#he was captured when he was chilling in his own house | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ikeuverse · 10 days

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YOU'RE MY PROBLEM — l.heeseung

PAIRING: heeseung x fem!reader GENRES: angst, fluff, humor, suggestive WC: 11.6k+

WARNINGS: swearing, arguing, cheating, divorce, mention of drinking. slightly smut in that there is a section (albeit brief) describing almost – very almost – sex.

NOTES: idk what's going on, but heeseung's been on my mind a lot these days. 2nd plot in less than two weeks and he's the owner of everything! at first this was going to have a smut, but i felt it would be too long and idk if it turned out that well, so maybe it could happen in a second part that isn't even final. but that's it for now, i hope you like it!

masterlist

"What's your problem?" that intonation was already typical when directed at you, but it still never failed to send a chill down your spine.

Sighing, you got up from the living room floor and smiled at the little boy in front of you, trying not to focus your gaze on the man next to the sofa.

"Can't you do your job properly for once?" he said to you again as he followed you into the downstairs bathroom, and you tried to ignore him as much as possible to put the first aid kit away in the drawer and leave the room. But he blocked the door.

"Can you come out, please? I want to go through" you asked, looking at him for the first time.

"I asked you what your fucking problem is" he leaned over and gritted his teeth, now he could cuss since he wasn't next to his younger brother.

"And I asked you to leave" you leaned in too, almost touching the tip of your nose to his chin because of the height difference. This caught the man completely off guard and he took a few steps back, clearing the way for you to leave the bathroom and walk into the living room.

It wasn't a horrible accident, you weren't a terrible babysitter for nine-year-old Hajun. But his older brother, Heeseung, had been a pain in the ass ever since you first set foot in the Lee house.

And it wasn't as if you'd done anything because Mrs. Lee always praised your work highly and you even did a few extra periods just to play with Hajun or stay with him when there were family problems. These, more often than not, were your suspicions as to why the Lee family had hired a nanny for their youngest, and also why Heeseung seemed so down on life. Especially with you.

It was typical for him to make some sarcastic comment, and roll his eyes when you excitedly answered something his mother had asked. Or even mutter a swear word when Hajun chooses to go out with you instead of his own brother. Jealous? Or that intensified the anger Heeseung felt even more, you just didn't want it to be directed completely at you. In your mind, Heeseung was already like that because of something that happened in the family – and you'd always been curious to ask, you just didn't have the courage – so, because you were the only person who was easy to get along with apart from his mother and younger brother, the boy only had you to put it all out there.

You weren't such a bad listener, you could call Heeseung to sit down after your babysitting shift and tell him everything that was bothering you. Why he was so angry and, most importantly, why did he seem to hate you? Your memory tried to capture a moment when you could have given him a curt reply, a grimace or simply been rude, but no.

As soon as you arrived and introduced yourself as Hajun's new nanny, Heeseung just rolled his eyes and left the room.

"Don't worry about him, Y/n" Mrs. Lee smiled lovingly at you "Heeseung is going through a difficult process, I think he'll get better soon. He's sweet."

You hoped he would be. And you waited for months to see that Heeseung was still the same... Maybe his process would take forever and you would have been chosen to be his punching bag.

But one day it would get tiresome. Surely you knew that you would respond in full, even if you were afraid of losing your job because he might be able to get his mother's head around firing you.

Back in the living room, you smiled at Hajun when you saw the little boy smile at you too. Your gaze completely ignored Heeseung sitting in the armchair next to his brother.

"Come on Y/n, I was telling Seungie how I fell in the park earlier" the little boy had no idea what had happened minutes ago between you and Heeseung, and you preferred it that way. Your priority was always to protect Hajun and be with him.

You sat down next to him, feeling Hajun's small hands wrap around yours.

"So I went to play ball with some boys, but Y/n told me not to go barefoot because it could be dangerous for me" Hajun formed a pout on his lips as he looked away from Heeseung to his bruised knee, now completely clean and bandaged "And I didn't listen" Hajun looked at you now, showing his newly grown teeth "Do you forgive me, Y/n?"

"Oh, of course" you hugged him as he laid his head on your shoulder.

Heeseung huffed from the other side of the sofa, running his hand through his hair impatiently.

"Anyway, do your job properly next time" he got up and left the room, leaving you with Hajun as he climbed the stairs with his feet tapping.

You felt the younger man move beside you, looking into your eyes while still smiling. Hajun was an amazing child and you felt your heart sink every time you thought that, if it wasn't for you, he might be alone in this house.

Not completely alone, Heeseung worked in his room a few days a week and Hajun could ask his brother for help with anything, as he was extremely protective of the youngest. But if it wasn't for you, the little one wouldn't do his homework. He couldn't go out to the park in the next block, let alone go to the movies in the late afternoon because he was too bored to do anything indoors.

Thanks to you, Hajun had company every day. And that was the thought you had when Mrs. Lee hired you to keep him company.

"Ignore him" Hajun's voice brought you out of your thoughts and back to the reality you were in at that very moment. The little boy was already standing in the middle of the room "Heeseung is a pain in the ass when he wants to be."

"Hey, watch your mouth, young man" you laughed when he grimaced.

"Seriously, after—" Hajun sighed, looking at you "Never mind."

"You know you can tell me whenever you want, right?" you stood up too, walking over to him to ruffle the younger man's dark hair.

Hajun nodded, smiling at you and asking you to make him a brownie. Because he deserved it and he was hurting. This made you laugh because, although the mood changed drastically in that house, you knew that he always tried to take everything in good humor.

Hajun's slip in the previous few minutes only made you even more certain that something was going on, and your heart squeezed to see that he was aware of the problems within his own house even at his young age. So, more than ever, your determination to take care of him spoke louder. Because Hajun was your priority in that house. And that would always be the case.

With your head in your hands, you felt like screaming as you stared at the computer in front of you. Life as a university student was complete shit, even more so when you were forced to start a project and didn't even know where to begin.

Your two best friends were sitting right in front of you with their projects very well developed, but it was as if only your head was short-circuiting because nothing was good enough.

"You're going to tear your hair out soon" Jake leaned over the table to pull one of your hands away from your face, taking his attention away from his project.

"Can I rip my head off?" you almost cried as you looked at him, both of you looking away to Ryunjin sitting next to you.

"Why are you like this?" she asked.

"Is it because of the project?" Jake was already sitting properly in his seat, his eyes still on you and Ryunjin too. You nodded in agreement, swallowing dryly when the girl sighed.

"Or is it for someone else?" Ryunjin emphasized the question when she looked at you.

The table was now a little chaotic with Ryunjin peeking out with a smile on her lips, you trying to wiggle out of it and Jake looking between the two friends like a lost puppy.

"What the fuck is going on? Because I think I've lost something" the boy finally said.

"Heeseung, again" Ryunjin answered for you "He's still being an asshole to Y/n. Hasn't your little friend said anything worthwhile to let us know what happened?"

Jake opened and closed his mouth to answer but to no avail. He was a friend of Heeseung's, fortunately, or unfortunately, the boy went to the same university as you. Being Jake's friend, he once let slip that his mother was looking for someone to look after Hajun. And since you needed money... you could just combine the useful with the pleasant.

But your friend seemed to be as lost as you were, or at least he pretended very well. As one of Heeseung's best friends, it would be difficult for him to tell you if something was going on that could involve you. But he was also your best friend. This standoff with Jake could leave you confused and feeling bad on both sides, which is why you never pressured him to tell you anything.

"He's just having some problems" Jake tried to be vague on the subject.

"He's the problem, Jake" you closed your computer, giving up on working on a project you knew would come to nothing. Your head was full – unfortunately of annoyance about Heeseung – and nothing could make you concentrate on the moment "He was really rude to me last time, you know?"

He knew.

He listened to Heeseung swear for ten minutes about how you could let Hajun get hurt. Then he let his friend cool off and tried to argue that it wasn't your fault. Heeseung understood and even pondered whether he had been too hard on you.

"I... No, what did he do?" Jake nibbled his lower lip to suppress a sigh as he began to listen to everything he had to say.

From his perspective it wasn't your fault, Heeseung was too hard on you and anything you did. Sometimes Jake felt like telling you everything, telling you how many times he'd lost count by cursing Heeseung for his behavior. Or wanting to punch him just because his friend took out his frustrations on the wrong things.

"You need to talk to him to stop being like that with Y/n" Ryunjin caught Jake's eye, making him look at her "Or I'll shove some architectural material up his ass. Name one."

"A piece of concrete?" Jake frowned. He had no idea which materials were architectural, Heeseung did that course, not him. Jake was a computer scientist, just like Ryunjin.

She smiled with satisfaction at the answer and then looked at you.

"Now don't think about him and focus on your project, my love" Ryunjin reached out to touch your hand gently "I bet your designers are going to be amazing."

"We can't wait to see it" Jake also celebrated, taking your other hand and running his thumb over the back of it in affectionate contact.

Even with all the stuff going on in your life, the daily stress of dealing with the older brother of the little boy you were looking after, being in the presence of your friends seemed to cure everything and then some. Even though Jake was Heeseung's friend, that didn't change the way your friend treated you or how much he wanted to see you well.

Ever since these disagreements between you and Heeseung started happening, Jake made it clear to both parties that he didn't want to be a part of it. Ryunjin even complained once that she would be part of it and still defend you, but no one listened – thankfully.

After some time exchanging glances with your friends and smiling, you decided to focus on your project because, even if time was in your favor and the deadline was a month away, being prepared and ahead of schedule was your motto.

Taking advantage of a few vacant classes at college was perfect for going to a remote table on campus and working on whatever it was. These get-togethers with your friends were what got you out of stressful and bad times, even if you saw them on some weekends or in some classes. Just sitting there, chatting away regardless of the subject, made you feel a little better.

"Jake, dude, I finally found you" the voice took you away from your more peaceful thoughts and gratitude for your friends to focus forward. The boy whose name had been called stared after you with soft eyes, but as soon as he noticed your gaze on him, Jake's eyes widened slightly "Are you studying?"

Heeseung's voice was unmistakable to you. And at that moment you wanted to dig a hole and hide, or run out of there just so you wouldn't have the pleasure of bumping into the boy at his study table.

"Tidying up projects" Jake hissed, squeezing Ryunjin's leg under the table when he felt his friend move in her place. Her gaze was locked on Heeseung so angrily, yet the boy didn't notice, too distressed to find Jake.

"Can I join you here?" he asked "I need to finish some university homework and then we need to meet Jay for a game of basketball."

"Sure" Jake gave a small smile and beckoned Heeseung to sit down.

No. Not. Jake and Ryunjin were sitting next to each other, so the only vacant seat was right next to you.

Heeseung sat down without looking in their direction. He smiled at Ryunjin as a silent greeting, but she took it in her stride and ended up nodding at him politely after looking at you at the same moment Heeseung did.

The boy's eyes could come out of their orbs if it were possible, the way he opened them. Fidgeting uncomfortably on the bench next to you, he was in a bit of shock, even looking a little vulnerable given the circumstances that Heeseung always looked fierce when he was around you at his house.

"Y/n?" he asked, afraid that you were real.

"Hey" you said quietly.

He didn't know what to say, how could he forget that Jake was always with you on campus if you weren't with him? Why didn't Heeseung check out the people at that table before he sat down?

There were so many questions circling his mind that, as the boy saw you ignore him to open the computer and focus on your study, maybe he should do the same.

Focusing on his university homework while he waited for Jake to finish his project and then meet his other friends was what he had to do. All Heeseung had to do was answer a few questions that the teacher had given him in class and hope that his friend would finish as quickly as possible.

"Heeseung" Ryunjin called out after a while, her gaze flicking between him and you. You both looked very uncomfortable next to each other and it was so clear. Even more so after he arrived and didn't greet you properly, it wouldn't go unnoticed by your best friend.

"Hey, Ryunjin" he tried to smile amiably, almost feeling a shiver run down his spine when she leaned over the table, resting her elbows on the stone. She smiled strangely; he had seen it before when the girl was sarcastic or about to fight with someone. Was she going to fight with him?

"Is there concrete in your course building?" she asked.

Heeseung frowned in complete confusion. That question had no basis in fact, but at least she wasn't angry with him, so he could relax a little and not feel any more chills as the girl still stared at him.

"We have several, will you need them?"

"Yes" she said.

"Sure, but what for?" when Heeseung asked and Ryunjin was about to answer, you quickly closed your computer. Praying that everything was intact even with the small bang.

This startled the three at the table – even you – so you got up and grabbed your backpack.

"I remembered that I need to go with Ryunjin to the library, now" your emphasis was a complete answer to the fact that your friend would have to follow you. Jake was grateful that she obeyed, even if it was against her will, putting her things away as she picked up the backpack to leave.

"Why did she want concrete?" Heeseung looked at Jake after you and Ryunjin left, laughing quietly and focusing on the questions he needed to answer, missing his friend's gaze, which was a little shocked.

"I have no idea" Jake lied.

Or omitted, exactly. Heeseung didn't need to know the intentions of the girl who had ranted at him minutes before he arrived at the table.

Of all the things Heeseung wanted to put out of his mind, one was to know exactly where to find the person who had hurt him the most. Who broke up the perfect family he thought he had.

Heeseung wanted to be able not to remember the bar his father frequented, but here he was. Across the street watching the large glass windows, and inside the establishment, people were drinking and celebrating something.

He was drinking too. He was already on his third bottle and brought the glass up to his lips to finish off the bitter liquid which, at this point, no longer had any effect. Heeseung was focused on the male figure who was laughing and raising his glass of alcohol to talk to some other men. So this was how his father looked every Thursday night before going home. That's how Heeseung followed him one night, tired of seeing his father come home late only to catch him drinking in that damn bar, with a woman sitting on his lap who must have been Heeseung's age.

His father didn't see him he didn't want to cause a fuss and make his mother even more worried because, frankly, Heeseung was on the other side of town and late at night. But he couldn't hide it when he got home and told his mother. She was an amazing woman and didn't deserve the kind of thing that was happening right behind his back and that of the whole family.

Heeseung didn't know that he could feel as strongly repulsed by someone as he did by the man who, at that moment, staggered out of the bar with another woman hanging around his neck.

He felt nauseous, wanting to throw up the beers he had bought while his eyes stung and blurred. But the figure of the man on the other side who was dialing something on his cell phone was clear, waiting for the app car together with another woman. She was different from the woman Heeseung first caught him with, so his father was with a different one every time. That was even more disgusting.

"Let's go to my apartment, baby" he laughed out loud as soon as the car arrived, letting the woman get in first and him follow behind. Leaving Heeseung's sight as the car pulled away.

"Fucker" Heeseung kicked the glass bottle against the sidewalk to break it instantly.

The tears were already rolling freely down his face and he didn't care that he was crying, he'd held it in for so long since the last two days. He stayed in his room so that he could cry in peace without his mother or Hajun noticing. He didn't want to worry them because he was now the oldest male figure there. While his mother worked all the time at the company, Heeseung needed to be there for Hajun even if you were with him.

His thoughts were soon interrupted by the sound of Heeseung's cell phone, startling him briefly as he picked it up to see who was calling. His mother.

Involuntarily, a sad smile formed amidst the tears and he didn't think twice about answering the call.

"Hi son, where are you?" she asked on the other end of the line.

"I came for a walk" he struggled to keep his voice from sounding so sad and tearful, clearing his throat as he sniffled "Is everything all right? Do you need anything?"

"Everything's fine, don't worry" she laughed, making Heeseung laugh too. That laugh that he missed, knowing that it was slowly coming back "It's just that a great opportunity has arisen to close a deal with another partner in the company and I'm going to have to travel to the neighboring city for a week."

"And Hajun?" he asked.

"I've just spoken to Y/n, she's going to sleep at home" his mother just passed on the information, showing that the decision had already been made. And even if it wasn't, Heeseung couldn't do much since he knew that his younger brother needed the nanny's care. He couldn't be available to look after Hajun.

"All right" he said afterward, "I'm coming home."

"Okay, my son. Come back carefully, okay?" she seemed to be smiling as she spoke, which warmed Heeseung's heart "Be a good boy with the two of them at home, please."

"I will" he replied "Bye mom, I love you."

"I love you more, my boy" and saying that, she hung up.

Heeseung felt less bad about his mother's call, but he still couldn't forget the scene he had seen a few minutes ago. He knew that his mother was moving on and accepting the divorce as best she could, but Heeseung couldn't forgive the betrayal. The way his father had acted in the face of everything. He hadn't spoken to the man since he found out, choosing to ignore his calls and messages and telling his mother not to go to the university. Heeseung didn't want to see him. He'd rather pretend he'd never met or lived with a lying father than have to say anything to the man.

Maybe he needed to go home like he said he would. His head was already beginning to buzz with disparaging and angry thoughts, which he wanted to get rid of quickly.

A hot bath and a video game were all Heeseung needed at the moment to feel cleansed of everything he had witnessed that day. Not that it had been much, but he hadn't come home from university. He hadn't arrived at the same time as Hajun from school so that he could have lunch with him. Heeseung wandered around every familiar corner until he stopped at an app car and went straight to that damn bar. Now it was time to get another app car and go home.

Heeseung felt angry with himself for letting anger take over every fiber of his body, while he could do the same as his mother. Or even Hajun, who was already asking less about the man daily. Perhaps the younger brother wouldn't even remember his father if he wasn't mentioned, and the elder wanted it that way. He wanted his brother not to have the proximity he had to see how disgusting and untruthful the man who once lived with them was.

"Thank you" Heeseung thanked the driver as soon as he pulled up in front of his house, getting out of the car and waving quickly.

He took slow steps to the front door to see that everything was dark, you had probably already put Hajun to bed and that would be a relief. The two of you would be asleep and you wouldn't see the deplorable state that Heeseung had arrived home in.

In as much silence as he could manage, he unlocked the door and opened it, then locked it and looked around. Absolute silence inside the house. It brought Heeseung a little peace to think that the motherfucker he had seen earlier would never set foot in his house again.

He took off his shoes and the jacket he was wearing, throwing the garment on the sofa and feeling his body begin to tire. His throat was dry from the beers and from crying, his eyes would surely swell up because of it and Heeseung always forgot that fact. It was a pain. So maybe a little water would at least save his throat; he'd deal with his morning appearance later.

Heeseung walked to the kitchen only to feel a scream escape his mouth as the fridge door slammed shut.

"Fuck" he put his hand over his chest as he looked at your equally frightened figure. You had also let out a little scream, but he only heard his own because his ears were ringing "Why is everything out?" he asked when he saw you moving away from the fridge.

"I thought you'd already arrived, I didn't want to disturb you" you held up the bottle of juice, probably something you'd drink while you were there until you fell asleep.

Heeseung just nodded and walked over to the light switch, squeezing his eyes shut along with you when the brightness hit. It didn't take long to get used to it before he looked at you, swallowing dryly as you looked back at him.

"Is everything okay?" you asked. Heeseung was going to ask why but forgot that his eyes and the tip of his nose were probably red because he had been crying.

Shit. Continuing with the light off could have been better.

"I don't want to talk about it" he replied immediately, his nervous tone returning as Heeseung looked away from you.

"Heeseung—"

"You're here to look after Hajun, right?" turning to look at you, Heeseung felt his eyes misting up again. He didn't know why he felt like crying while standing in front of you, one of the only people he didn't want to show himself vulnerable to apart from his younger brother and his mother "So why don't you do your job, and stop asking questions?"

For a split second, Heeseung saw your shoulders slump, the bottle of juice resting on the sink and your lips parting to say something. He blinked a few times to keep the tears from falling.

"What's your problem?" you finally said to him, your chest aching and your heart beating fast from nervousness "I have no idea what's happened to you" with each word, you took a tiny step towards him because Heeseung was blocking the passage from the kitchen worktop to the main door to leave the room. You had no choice but to approach him "But don't take your frustrations out on me!" you wanted to shout the last sentence, but out of respect for Hajun and for him being asleep, all you did was poke his chest a little harder. Pushing your index finger in there.

Heeseung closed his eyes as he felt your finger pushing him, but before you could push him away, he grabbed your hand.

Your eyes widened at him because that was the first touch the two of you had shared since you started working at the Lee family home. His fingers were warm against your wrist and you wanted to struggle to get out of his grip, but without a doubt, Heeseung was stronger and faster. Pulling your body against his and wrapping his other arm around your waist.

It would be foolish to ask what or why, and even more foolish to try to get out of there because with every reluctant movement you made, he pulled your body even tighter against him. He tilted his face towards you, lowering it enough to touch his forehead to yours, and you took the opportunity to lean in and meet his lips halfway.

The touch of Heeseung's lips was soft, his tongue pressing against your bottom lip was electrifying and when he wrapped the muscle around yours, you could taste the lingering taste of beer in his mouth. It wasn't as if you'd never drunk before, but feeling the alcohol in someone else's mouth, Heeseung's had made your whole body shiver.

He pulled your body closer until his big hands and firm fingers pressed your waist to your butt. Giving small touches to your thigh, he wanted to signal you to jump into his lap, and without disobeying you did so, already knowing that your butt would be in contact with the cold marble countertop in the kitchen.

Your legs wrapped around Heeseung's waist and body to pull him closer while you lost yourself in his lips. It would be a lie to say that he didn't notice every detail of your face, and you would also be a hypocrite to say that you didn't look at him a little more closely when he wasn't looking at you. But feeling the softness of those lips that were always frowning in your direction was wonderful.

Heeseung lowered his lips to your chin and kissed down to your jaw, then down to your neck, and like a damn pro, he hit exactly the spot that made your whole body shudder. Your reaction couldn't have been different, letting out a sly moan and clamping your legs even tighter around him. When Heeseung's body tightened between your legs, he instinctively moved his hips towards your, thrusting his hips to give your better friction between his legs.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging at each strand while your mouth worked wonders on his skin down to his collarbone.

He moved his hips again, this time you could feel Heeseung's semi-hard cock pressing against your pajama-clad pussy. Moaning once more, you tugged on his hair as he lifted his head to kiss you again.

It was breathtaking how he felt between your legs, taken by your lips and touching your body with his fingertips. Your waist was perfect, fitting exactly between his palms as he pressed you even tighter against him. It was Heeseung's turn to moan against your lips when you planted your feet on his lower back to press Heeseung's hips even tighter against yours, nibbling on his lower lip to catch your breath.

"Y/n" he moaned your name and you almost whimpered and asked him to rip off all your clothes and fuck you right there. Heeseung would do it for sure, you wouldn't even think of denying it because of the way he was squeezing every curve of your body and chasing his lips to kiss you again.

If it hadn't been for the incessant crying upstairs. The two of you separated for a few seconds to see if you had heard the same thing. Heeseung's eyes traveled to yours and then to the kitchen door, hearing Hajun's crying again.

With great difficulty, he climbed out from between your legs, feeling the loss of contact grow cold between his fingers as he took a few steps back and took your hand to help you down from the worktop. Heeseung looked at you a little better this time. Lips reddened and the skin on your neck the same, a few bite marks he'd left while kissing there made him smile a little sideways as he saw your eyes go down to his cock.

"Oh" Heeseung threw his oversized blouse over it, even though it only covered half of his lower body, but he couldn't stop it.

You'd even tease him about how beautiful he looked with his hair messed up – by you – and his red mouth too inviting to keep kissing. But Hajun had called your name, taking you away from all the unholy thoughts you were having in the kitchen with Heeseung.

"Shit" you turned away from Heeseung and watched him throw his head back, as frustrated as you were to get it over with as the two of you ran to the top of the stairs. Climbing each step a little faster until you entered Hajun's room and were followed by his older brother "Hey, I'm here."

"I had a bad dream, Y/n" he was crying, hugging your body quickly as soon as you sat on the edge of the bed.

You kissed the top of Hajun's head and looked at the door, beckoning Heeseung to come in too. And so he did.

"Hey buddy, are you okay?" Heeseung knelt beside the bed where you were sitting with Hajun.

"Seungie" the younger man pulled out of your embrace, this time choosing to hug his brother, "I had a bad dream."

"Do you want to tell us what it was like?" Heeseung asked.

Hajun remained quiet for a while still hugging Heeseung, probably calming down from the fright he'd had as he got out of his brother's arms and lay back on the bed. You dried the stubborn tears from his face with such a gentle touch, that it made Heeseung wonder if you would have done the same for him if you had seen him cry earlier.

What kind of fucking thought is that, Heeseung? He pushed any thoughts of this aside and focused on the scene in front of him, seeing that Hajun looked a little calmer as he sighed.

"I dreamt about my father" the mention of the man, made Heeseung's jaw clenched, and he wanted to curse himself so much for seeing that your eyes were on him now. Surely this could come up as a topic of conversation or, worse, now you could find out about his father. And that was a subject Heeseung didn't want anyone to know about.

"And do you remember what it was like?" you asked.

"Never mind, Hajun's tired—"

"He fought with me in the dream" Hajun interrupted Heeseung who was already on his feet, he didn't want to pace around while listening to his brother's dream "And then I saw him beating up Seungie and leaving the house with my favorite teddy bear."

Before Hajun could cry again, you grabbed one of his hands and kissed it.

"It was just a dream, it won't happen, Junie" trying to reassure the little boy that it would never happen was easier than you thought. He smiled at you.

"Promise you won't let it happen? That you'll look after me, but Heeseung too?"

Hajun's eyes were so pleading and piteous. You wondered if Heeseung did the same thing when he wanted something. But also, you wondered why that had been said. Why had Hajun asked you to do that kind of thing?

Your lack of words made Heeseung restless, moving from side to side until he went to the bedroom door. Perhaps you had been clear in your attitude that you were only there to look after Hajun. He just didn't know why it was bothering him so much, leaving a slight tightness in his chest. It could be because of his brother's dream, of course! That was it, wasn't it? Or was it his lack of an answer?

Heeseung didn't want to think too much, he didn't want to let anything get to him. But he was completely wrong when standing in the doorway of Hajun's room, he heard you.

"I promise, Junie."

If before it was inevitable not to look at you while you were around, now it seemed impossible for Heeseung to look away from you. Even having to spend a whole week with just you, him, and Hajun.

The boy had the vivid memory of your lips against him in that kitchen every time he saw you say something. Your mouth moved to answer something his younger brother or talk on the phone to his mother because she called and wanted to know if everything was okay. Heeseung wanted to curse himself for remembering the sounds you made and how he felt when he got between your legs. It might have sounded pathetic to any guy who said it out loud, especially if it was about you.

He'd certainly heard half an hour of Jake's lecture about what had happened, especially as he didn't dare to say much afterward.

"She thinks I'm an idiot, then?" Heeseung asked.

"More than usual? Absolutely" Jake wanted to throw anything in his hand at his friend's head, especially after he saw the gleam in Heeseung's eye when he talked about you.

It was clear that all that denial was turning into attraction and Sim knew it would, he didn't read the silly novels that Ryunjin pushed at him for nothing, something would have to do and sure enough, it was the analysis he'd done on your – unofficial – relationship with Heeseung. Something he kept quiet until his older friend opened his mouth and told him everything.

At first, the kiss had been something that had shocked Jake, after all, Heeseung couldn't spend two seconds next to you without an argument breaking out. But as he went on to tell you about the events and how he had been acting around you during that week, something in Jake clicked. It wasn't necessarily a crush, but something in Heeseung about finding you attractive or starting to take a romantic interest in you.

"That's got to be a joke, doesn't it?" Heeseung turned to Jake and then looked at Sunghoon, another friend of the two of them who always listened to the lamentations and frustrations about how Heeseung had argued – again – with you.

"Firstly, you didn't deny it at any point when Jake talked about you being attracted to Y/n ever since we arrived" Sunghoon leaned back even further in the café chair, holding back a smile when he saw his friend's eyes go wide "Secondly, you kissed her, like, do you do that with someone you can't stand?"

Heeseung wanted to say yes, that was exactly it. It would be normal to kiss someone he can't stand, right? But the question would be... Why can't he stand himself?

After keeping quiet for a while, he tried to forget how right his friends were because he didn't want to dwell on something he was struggling to forget, especially since his mother's week away was over and that meant you'd be going back home. No more seeing you at home all the time, at least not alone. This would give him time to think more calmly and put all his thoughts in order, which could make him even more confused if it were possible.

Sighing heavily after returning from university, Heeseung just wanted to throw himself on his bed and forget about all that mental confusion for the next few days. Isolate himself, do his homework, and pretend you weren't downstairs in his house. Maybe that would be easy. Maybe he could ignore it a little and try not to run around looking like an idiot in front of you because he's had a whole week, uninterrupted, to say a single word to you. But no, Heeseung couldn't.

At least he said good morning and smiled at you every day while you were with Hajun, right? You shouldn't smile back, you shouldn't make him almost scream internally because you were being nice to him.

Shit, Heeseung. You sound like a teenager, you idiot. He might even have continued talking in his head if it hadn't been for the voices coming from the living room.

Heeseung didn't want to think that he had arrived at his house after you and that he would see the scene of you fooling around with Hajun. He tried to run as far as he could when Jake gave him a lift so he wouldn't have to wait for you to get home and have lunch with you. At least not that day. But to the boy's surprise, the voices were much more different than his own.

And he knew – unfortunately – who it was.

"Look, you're here" in the old days, Heeseung would have given anything to hear that voice cheerfully after coming home from school, perhaps if he were in eighth grade again. But coming home from university with a sick feeling in his stomach, he just wanted to throw up as he looked at his father.

"Son" his mother got up from the sofa where she was, not so close to his father, and they both seemed to be having an amicable conversation before Heeseung arrived.

"What are you doing here?" he asked directly to the man who was trying to smile in his direction.

"Your father called me yesterday, he misses you and Hajun" his mother had the sweetest voice of all, and on any occasion. Heeseung wanted to ask her how she was feeling in the presence of that man. It was impossible to have such a beautiful smile and calm voice after everything he had done.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he knew that his pent-up anger would come out somehow, he just didn't want to explode in front of his mother. At least Hajun wasn't there.

"I asked your mother to spend a weekend with you and Hajun" he took a step forward to try to get closer to Heeseung. The boy did the same, mustering the only ounce of sanity he had not to slam his fist into the man's face. Unfortunately, it was still his father.

"I won't, and you won't get Hajun out of this house."

"Heeseung" his mother called out.

"What's your problem, Mom? Really?" Heeseung turned away from his father and walked to the middle of the room to approach his mother. It was almost like a plea when he let out, "After everything he's done, you still have the nerve to let him in and allow this? No!"

"He's still your father, my son" she smiled weakly "And it's only a weekend..."

"No" he said.

The protests could continue, Heeseung knew that this discussion would be so long that they would spend hours in that room. They shouted and protested that they wouldn't leave, but the door opened quickly.

Hajun's hurried footsteps and the conversation he was having with you were the reason the three of them shut up immediately.

"I can't do without this ice cream, Y/n. Please" Hajun whined. When you laughed, it was the only thing that could make Heeseung relax his shoulders, even if he didn't want to admit it. The sound of your laughter so close up awakened something in him.

"We can go to the other side of town after you've done your homework" you said, making the little boy giggle. Okay, maybe you were right, but he'd still convince you to go across town to the best ice cream parlor you and he had visited last week.

"Dad?" Hajun was the first to enter the room, looking at the scene before him. Upon hearing this, you took a few more hurried steps behind the little boy to be equally shocked by what you were seeing.

The father of the Lee family was there, for the first time since you started babysitting Hajun. Mrs. Lee had a small smile when she saw the little boy go towards her to hug him affectionately. But what caught your eye was Heeseung's furious look. That look you knew because it was the only thing you saw all that time, except when he looked at Hajun or his mother.

So Heeseung was angry at his father, the man who was smiling at you at that moment.

"Hello, you're..." he tried to make conversation when he saw that no one would say anything.

"Oh, I'm Y/n, Hajun's nanny" you approached to greet the smiling man, smiling too. But as soon as your hand almost touched him, a strong tug on your wrist made you stagger backward.

Your eyes quickly searched for the reason to find Heeseung already looking at you.

"Come up with Hajun, please" he ordered.

"Heeseung..."

"Not now, just go up with him" he whispered when he saw that Hajun was engaged in an awkward conversation with his father and mother "And stay there as long as you can."

"Are you okay?" Heeseung didn't want to have another clash of feelings at that moment, especially with your gaze so intensely on him. So he just nodded quickly and looked away to the other three.

"Junie, go upstairs with Y/n. I heard you need to do your homework..."

"But I wanted to meet the babysitter and, well, spend some time with your brother" the older man seemed quite nice, but if that was the reason Heeseung was clenching his hands into fists, it was certainly a false front.

"Hajun, go with Y/n" was the older brother's final word, and from the way the little boy didn't even question it, you knew it was something much more delicate.

As a silent apology, Mrs. Lee waved to you and Hajun before going upstairs to the youngest's room.

"Do you want to take a shower before you start your homework?" you asked, going to his closet to get some clothes that were more comfortable than his school uniform.

Searching for some sweat shorts and a T-shirt, you turned towards him to see Hajun's eyes redden and shine. Running up to the little one, you knelt in front of him before feeling little arms encircling your neck.

"Hey, hey, hey... Are you okay?" you whispered as you hugged him, sitting down on the floor to welcome the little one into a tight embrace.

"I don't like it, Y/n... I don't like it."

"What? What don't you like?" as you asked, your hands went straight to the little one's hair to stroke it as you let him cry in your embrace.

Hajun cried silently for a few minutes, sobbing softly as he felt a little safer in your arms.

"The last time Dad was here..." he sighed between whimpers, lifting his head a little to meet your face "He and Heeseung had a nasty fight, but neither of them knows that I know."

"Your mother knows?" you asked, Hajun agreed.

It was the night the betrayal came to light that Heeseung didn't want to put his mother through all that lying to sustain a marriage that was only for her. His father had been gone for a long time, or at least trying to maintain an appearance that didn't exist.

Hajun was supposed to be asleep that night, but Heeseung's furious shouts woke him up, causing him to get out of bed and open the bedroom door with a crack. Hearing the swearing and shouting, he also heard something. It sounded like a struggle. Mrs. Lee's crying aroused Hajun's despair and he almost went downstairs to see what was going on, why Heeseung was cursing his father. Hajun had never heard his older brother swear like that.

But before he could go downstairs, his mother stopped midway with watery eyes and a silent plea for him to go back to his room.

"Stay here, okay? And don't tell them about it" Hajun knew something was very wrong because he had never seen his mother cry. And after a few minutes, the fighting seemed to stop.

The front door slammed hard and then Hajun tried to forget what had happened for so long until he only remembered after seeing his father's figure standing there in the middle of the room. They were flashes of the small event that was much bigger, and it made you even more curious because Hajun's words were few, even though they contained a lot of information since you were left in the dark when you arrived.

At least there was something to know, but it wasn't as if you needed to ask him everything either. You just wanted to protect him and you would do that, the questions could come later.

"God, dude, stop drinking" Jake whined as Heeseung poured himself another glass, ignoring his friend's protests.

"Why?" he asked "As far as I remember, we came here because I'm sad and I need to get drunk."

"Drunk is fine, but not to the point of vomiting" Jake took another glass away from Heeseung "I'm taking you away and I don't want anyone vomiting in my car."

It was a fair point, but Heeseung didn't want to make a big deal out of it. He wanted to forget the last few weeks.

He wanted to forget that, unfortunately, his father had had a shitty, friendly talk with his mother, agreeing that he would take Hajun away for at least one weekend to go for a walk or do something nice. Even if the boy's fights and constant swearing came to nothing. He knew he couldn't stop it, not legally, so as long as nothing happened to the little boy, Heeseung vowed not to speak a word to his father.

Then he became even more frustrated by your presence in his home, and this was because, as the days went by, he realized that he could feel something. Not even the slightest something for you. But what he didn't count on was the fury that went through his whole being when he saw you laughing with a boy in the university cafeteria. Heeseung hardly ever saw you there, or if he did, it was always with Ryunjin, so why did it bother him so much?

The last fact had been a state secret, none of his friends knew anything about it. So they attributed Heeseung's bad mood and sadness to the events with his father and how powerless he felt to let Hajun meet the man he hated most on the face of the earth.

"I might as well go home alone" Heeseung flashed all his pearly teeth in a childish grin when Sunghoon arrived with a few more glasses.

He was such a savior of the fatherland, making his sad friend, who just wanted to get drunk at that moment, happy.

"So why did you ask me for a ride?" Jake raised one eyebrow, smiling "Why did you say you wouldn't drive and I was supposed to take you back home?"

"Because you love me and would do anything for me" Heeseung picked up another glass and turned away from Jake to drink.

There was no point in arguing or stopping the tallest boy from drinking that night, not even Sunghoon could do it. The only way out was to surrender and let Heeseung enjoy as much as he could, even if Jake sneered every time the glass was against Lee's lips.

He wondered what the car would look like if it swayed too much while he was taking Heeseung home, or what he would look like in the back seat or even in the back if he had to take Sunghoon too.

And it was this scene that Jake found himself in, a few hours later, as he carried his two best friends out of the bar. Sunghoon was in the driver's seat to guide the way while Heeseung sat in the back seat, his legs wide apart and his head resting against the back of the seat.

Jake looked in the rearview mirror, afraid that some fluid would come out of Heeseung's mouth or that he would have to stop abruptly so that his friend would run off and vomit. But no, the journey continued normally until the three of them stopped in front of Lee's house. Meanwhile, Heeseung's mind was far away. Closed eyes had been a plague on his life for the past few weeks because every time it happened, your face would appear in his mind. It was something Heeseung tried at all costs to ignore. Something he swore to himself that if it happened again, he would have to take action.

And it was impossible not to think about you after the last scene he saw, your smile at that other boy still played like a memorized movie in his mind and even if you hadn't meant it, Heeseung had no right to feel that way. He was the one who had been a jerk to you all along, you couldn't be expected to be sweet to him about it.

"Heeseung" Sunghoon called out, turning back to touch his friend's knee. He opened his eyes slowly, getting used to the idea of seeing his friend's face and not his own in his thoughts.

"What's up?" he asked as soon as he was off the bench and sitting properly.

"We're here" Jake said, turning off the car "Do you want us to go in with you?"

A while of silence was enough for Heeseung's mind to wander even further and, without realizing it, it had already come out of his mouth without giving him a chance to regret it.

"Take me to Y/n's house."

"What the fuck?" Sunghoon almost shouted. Jake turned around abruptly, almost hitting Sunghoon head-on.

"Dude, what the fuck? Why are you asking me this?" he asked.

Really, why was he asking this? Heeseung didn't have an effective explanation for it, much less did he think he should. He just felt like it.

"I don't know, I just need to see her now and..." a long sigh came from his lips, Heeseung allowed himself to run one hand through his hair as he looked at Jake and then at Sunghoon "I need to make up for the shit I've done and tell her that I can't stop thinking about her."

"Oh" the two friends said at the same time, Jake swallowing down the urge to shout and say that it was all part of the little novel he'd written in his head about you and Heeseung. But that would be something for future conversations.

"Only if you tell me something" Jake said.

"Whatever you want to know" since everything was screwed up, there was no point in hiding anything from his best friend.

"Your father wasn't the only reason we were at the bar hours ago, was he?"

The shy smile that Heeseung tried to hide by biting his lower lip said it all, he didn't need a specific word for Jake or Sunghoon. It was clear how exactly that said that you had also been a reason, even if neither of them knew what it was.

Seeing Heeseung like that was new for the two boys sitting in the driver's and passenger's seats, so all that was left was for Jake to start the car again and drive to your apartment. Without asking Heeseung any questions about it.

But nothing stopped Sunghoon from making fun of him the whole way.

Words of encouragement were a mantra in the boy's mind who, with every step into the building where you lived, felt his whole body tremble. It was strange to be feeling this way, even more so for him who had never been this attached. Heeseung had never really thought that a girl could make him so nervous that he almost tripped over his own feet as he entered the elevator.

What could he say to you when he knocked on your door? That he wanted to see you? That would be something you wouldn't believe, even if it was the only truth he could tell you.

It made Heeseung rethink everything he'd ever said to you and the way he'd treated you since he met you. He didn't mean to be rude and he knew that it was all a reflection of what he had experienced with his father's disagreements. You, unfortunately, were the only person around and he didn't want the sight of someone new coming into his house. Because the last person to come out from under that roof had made a huge stranger in his life.

Heeseung didn't want to give in to someone like you, who came so easily into the Lee family's life and won over even his mother. The way she talked to you, the way she treated you like a member of the family. Heeseung rolled his eyes every time his mother brought the same candies, but not just for him and Hajun, she brought them for you too. Or how affectionate she was with you when you were at his house, chatting like old friends and laughing at things he didn't understand. He didn't want to understand why his mother was so happy after finding out she had been betrayed while Heeseung was suffering and disgusted by his father's image.

It was something he hadn't understood until recently. Maybe all the answers were right in front of his eyes, he just didn't want to accept it yet. So he needed to throw his hands up in the air and knock on your door right then and there, and that's exactly what he did.

He didn't know how you would react and he didn't want to, just looking at you would be enough for him to smile and walk away. Maybe apologize and say some lame excuse the next day and hope you believed his words.

Heeseung heard footsteps from inside the apartment and some mumbling that you were already on your way, indicating that you weren't ready for visitors or were far enough away to answer the door. Apprehension gripped his entire body as he took a few steps closer to hear what was going on inside.

As soon as you opened it, finishing putting on one of the sleeves of your long coat, Heeseung's world seemed to stop right there.

You were beautiful. More beautiful than he'd ever seen you before. Sharing the same roof with you for a week when his mother went away gave him the right to see you in your pajamas practically every night, but he didn't know that you looked even more beautiful in light silk pajamas and wearing a wool coat to cover your exposed arms.

"Heeseung?" your voice snapped him out of his thoughts as he looked at your face, the shock and curiosity screaming in your eyes making him feel euphoric. He didn't know what to say as he saw that you were still standing there, slightly startled by his presence.

He opened and closed his mouth for a few seconds to say something, but nothing seemed to come out. It was as if Heeseung had unlearned how to say anything because your gaze was making him shy.

When you took a step towards him, as if to get the attention of the boy in front of you, Heeseung didn't reason enough. He just raised one of his hands to touch the wool of your jacket and pulled you forward. The slow thud of your body against his made you let out a startled cry, which soon calmed down when Heeseung looked you in the eye.

"Jake gave me your address," he whispered "I needed to come here."

"Why?" your low voice sent all kinds of sensations through Heeseung's body and he wanted to be able to run away, but he limited himself. Squeezing his fingers against the wool of your jacket and loosening the fabric little by little.

"Because I want to talk to you, can we?" it was your time to deny it, tell him to go home and carry on without talking to Heeseung because a conversation with him would never end well.

But it wasn't like you to do anything you really should, so you gave him the go-ahead to enter your apartment and guide him to the sofa. Asking him to sit down before disappearing down the corridors. Just long enough for Heeseung to take off his jacket and put it on the armchair next to him, then sit down on the larger sofa and look around. Trying to get as many details as possible in case one day you asked him what he thought of your apartment.

Not that it mattered, he could say he'd need to go there more often to notice anything different. But remembering the first time you were here could be something useful and nice, perhaps.

"Here" you came back into the living room with a glass of water in your hands, walking over to the sofa where he was sitting and handing him the glass.

"Thanks" he said after taking the glass, drinking almost all the water in a matter of seconds. This was an indication of how nervous he still was after feeling your weight next to him on the sofa, the closest you'd been since the kiss you two had shared in the kitchen at his house.

Heeseung placed his glass on the coffee table and continued to stare at his own feet as he sighed slowly, clasping his hands together and playing with his fingers.

"My relationship with my father is the worst of all, and you've realized that haven't you?" you mumbled when he asked, albeit rhetorically, letting him continue his train of thought when he looked at you straight away "He cheated on my mother and ruined our family."

Oh. So that's why Heeseung was so harsh in his father's presence. And you couldn't understand how someone could betray Mrs. Lee, even if she was such an incredible woman.

"When my mother hired you, it was because she wanted to keep Hajun entertained most of the time and she knew I wouldn't be able to do that because I signed up for everything the university offered. Just so I wouldn't stay at home and have to deal with my father showing up."

Heeseung hated to lie that he had been neglectful to his younger brother about this, but he also couldn't risk bumping into his father and ending up fighting with the man in his younger brother's presence. That's when Mrs. Lee hired you as a nanny. Having someone to give the little one the attention that neither she nor Heeseung could be her priority. Someone you knew – even if you and Heeseung didn't speak to each other at the time – made the woman feel relieved because you seemed to have hit it off with the little one straight away.

"Seeing you integrate into the family made me feel angry because no one could like such a broken family with a false front" Heeseung was still looking at you, but his thoughts were a little more distant when he rambled "My mother wasn't happy when she hired you as a nanny. Hajun wasn't so happy when he met you and he only did it because my mother asked him to be nice to whoever was going to take care of him" a long sigh came from Heeseung's lips, looking away from you. "And I didn't accept that someone would be so nice to us because the last person who treated me, my brother, and my mother, so well, betrayed all of us."

You listened intently, seeing how broken Heeseung was inside your home. Opening his heart to you and asking for nothing in return.

He spoke for the first time about what it was like to have caught his father that night at the bar, how he felt the anger consume his body, and how he fought so many times until the man finally left the house. The divorce proceedings were kept under wraps because Hajun couldn't have known that something bad was going on, and your role was important in distracting him.

Heeseung admitted everything. And all the bad treatment he's given you since he met you was because he didn't know how to separate what was bad with his father, and that it shouldn't show to anyone. You wouldn't be like his father to anyone in the family, but amid the whole divorce process, you were there. Doing good for the Lee family without even knowing it.

And he didn't think he deserved it. I knew that Hajun deserved everything wonderful because he would spare his brother any bad feelings, but when you started being nice to Heeseung, he only knew how to be defensive.

You weren't supposed to greet him every time you were at home, you weren't supposed to flash smiles in his direction, let alone wave after a short answer he gave. Heeseung was rude – even for no reason – and you were still nice to him. Or at least polite. He wanted to believe that it was out of pure politeness and because Hajun was almost always around.

"I know I was a complete idiot and you never deserved that anyway" he slid his hand up to rest on your knee, feeling the slow touch of your fingers against his. Hesitantly, you took Heeseung's hand to intertwine your fingers in each other's "And that day in my kitchen..."

"We don't— Don't need to talk about..."

"I want to talk about it" he interrupted you, squeezing your fingers lightly and looking at you. This forced you to look at him too and maintain eye contact as you listened to every word Heeseung had to say "It was the day I saw my father in the bar, I left very angry."

You wanted to ask why he had gone after his father because Heeseung liked to beat himself up about it. But perhaps that was a conversation for another time, his gaze was so intent on you that all you could think about was every word he said.

"When I got home and you were in the kitchen, arguing was so unbearable that I acted on impulse when I kissed you and..." Heeseung's gaze dropped to your mouth, his Adam's apple bobbing with a dry gulp as he swallowed his saliva nervously "I didn't regret it, because I wanted it again."

"You—"

"I don't know what you did, Y/n, but I can't stop thinking about that day" neither can I, you wanted to answer, but hearing you say everything without a hint of pressure was wonderful. Maybe you'd confess later, but hearing his confession first was much better "You make me nervous, and want to kiss you every time we're near each other."

It was your turn to swallow. Heeseung was still staring at your mouth as if he were mesmerized by every detail of your lips when he felt your hand break away from his and go to the face next to you. You pulled him by the chin and felt Heeseung's breath against your skin from the sudden contact.

"We're too close now, what can you do?" you whispered.

He knew very well what to do and he wasn't going to waste any more time as he had done in previous weeks. Heeseung allowed his lips to touch yours slowly, but showing the urgency he had to feel you like that again.

You completely surrendered to the moment of having to kiss Heeseung again, this time knowing the exact moment when he asked for permission to enter your mouth with his tongue and how much slower his lips were now. Each movement was well appreciated as his hands slid down to your waist and yours ran to the back of his neck. Pulling Heeseung close, almost as if he wanted to fuse him against your body. And he would certainly do that if necessary.

But all he did was lay you back against the sofa while still maintaining the slow rhythm of the kiss, sighing against your lips as you spread your legs to accommodate Heeseung's body between them. It was a scene from heaven to be there again and in a slightly better position than sitting on a kitchen worktop. Heeseung could have sworn he cried in the middle of that kiss at being so close to you again.

Like a memory from last time, as soon as you both felt the need for air and he slid his mouth over yours, a moan came out of his throat. As sly as if he was really inside you when Heeseung kissed a specific spot on your neck.

That sound triggered something in him that, at the same moment, Heeseung pressed his hips against yours so that you could feel the full effect that just one kiss had on him.

"Hee..." you whispered as he returned with kisses all over your skin until he reached your earlobe, nibbling the skin slowly before aligning his face with yours again.

"You wouldn't be able to stop me now, would you?" he whispered back, kissing your mouth as slowly as he moved his hips against yours. It was torturous and at the same time sensual to feel Heeseung's tongue slide against yours at the same pace as he pressed his hard cock between your legs.

You moaned once more, anchoring your legs and holding his body there. Helping with the pressure and making him moan this time, biting his lower lip to break the kiss.

"You're going to be the death of me, Y/n" he gasped as he looked into your eyes. The fucking beautiful expression with the disheveled hair and droopy eyes, red mouth and chest rising and falling to normalize breathing.

"My room isn't too far from here" you pulled him back to you, feeling his lips hover over yours. Heeseung's smile widened even more.

"Good" he sealed his lips to yours "I haven't stopped wondering how this would end since the day I kissed you in that damn kitchen."

He wrapped his arms around you, lifting you off the sofa to pick you up and carry you to your room with your instructions along the way.

Heeseung just didn't know that you were also thinking about it, about to unravel all that thought.

#enhypen smut #heeseung smut #enhypen #enhypen fluff #heeseung fluff #enha smut #heeseung #enha fics #lee heeseung #enhypen heeseung #heeseung x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen masterlist #lee heeseung fluff #lee heeseung smut #heeseung fanfics #lee heeseung x reader #heeseung imagines

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 8 months

Text

Little Warrior

Pairing: Sigtryggr Ivarsson (The Last Kingdom) x F!Reader Warnings: Canon typical violence and death, kidnapping, slight Stockholm syndrome, attempted sexual assault, sexual tension, coercion, corruption kink, talk of religious beliefs, female masturbation, loss of virginity, smut. Word count: 4.6k

Summary: When Sigtryggr and his men seize Winchester he takes a special interest in one of their captives (I have essentially yeeted Stiorra from the story and adapted the storyline of how her and Sigtryggr become an item to suit my own). Based on this request.

Author's note: No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

They come in the night. As Winchester sleeps, the Danes descend upon it.

She is woken by the blood curdling shouts and screams of the townspeople, accompanied by the acrid stench of smoke from nearby burning buildings.

Her heart lurches in her chest, panic causing bile to rise in her throat as she acts purely on instinct, scrambling from her bed and out of the house wearing just her nightdress. The only thought in her mind is that she doesn’t want to die trapped in her home as it’s burned to the ground.

Once she is outside, she watches wide eyed with horror at the destruction around her. Buildings are ablaze, people lay dead and dying upon the ground, the thick coppery scent of blood makes her want to vomit.

It’s only when the coolness of the night air begins to chill her skin that she realises just how perilous her situation is - a thin layer of cotton is all that separates her flesh from the horrors around her. She worries about what these Heathens will do to her if they see her in such a state of undress.

She trembles at the thought, dread gnawing at her insides. It’s too risky to go back inside, her only option is to hide. She takes her chances beneath an overturned farmer’s cart, crawling beneath the gap and cowering, waiting for the chaos around her to die down.

Clutching the cross around her neck, she sends up a silent prayer to God to keep her safe. Her destiny is in his hands now.

The aching in her joints for having been crouched for so long is beginning to become unbearable when the noise eventually quietens. She wonders if the Danes have left, if King Edward will return to rescue Winchester or if they have managed to capture it in his absence. Where are the Wessex guard?

She freezes when she hears the sound of approaching boots upon the ground, her heart hammers wildly against her ribcage when they come to a stop in front of the cart she’s hiding under.

“I can see your feet, Christian”, comes the voice of a man. He speaks softly and quietly, and it sends shivers down her spine.

Too paralyzed by fear to do anything, she remains as she is, her breaths coming quick and shallow, a rapidly dying hope in the back of her mind that he might give up and leave her alone. But there is no such luck.

“You will come out,” he commands, “or I will drag you out, the choice is yours.”

She clamps a hand over her mouth to muffle the frightened whimper that escapes her, attempting to force herself further back against the wooden confines of her misguided hiding place.

A large hand appears beneath the cart, reaching towards her before wrapping itself around her ankle.

She shrieks, thrashing against the hold it has on her as she’s dragged out. She lays wide eyed on the cold earth, her breathing erratic, as she looks with terror upon the Dane that towers above her prone form.

His long brown hair is wild and unkempt, half of it pulled back, and a ragged scar runs the length of the left side of his face. He regards her with mild amusement and she becomes aware again of her state of undress.

The thought that he might rape her sends her senses into overdrive, pure adrenaline driving her decision making. She knows she’s in no position to run, her only other option is to fight him, so as he crouches down towards her, she lunges upwards, slapping and scratching at his face and shoulders.

He is quick to overpower her, pulling her to her feet and twisting her arm behind her back.

“A fearsome little warrior, she is,” he chuckles, keeping her arm taut behind her as he gently urges her forward.

He guides her towards the front steps of the King’s estate, where several people are kneeling before a group of Danes. As they draw closer she recognises a few of them; King Edward’s sons and a few of the Wessex guard.

She is certain she’ll be killed. The man presses on her shoulder, urging her to kneel beside the other captives. She takes up her position, the stone step is hard against her knees, and she is all too aware that she is the least valuable of everyone gathered there.

“Send them to where they keep their dead King,” the man says, looking at Edward’s children and then nodding towards the chapel.

“We need to send a message to Edward,” a dark haired, heavily pregnant woman says, as two of the Danish men pick up the boys and carry them off. “We must force him to yield Winchester to us.”

It makes her shudder to think that this woman will be a mother, when she is capable of such atrocities.

“And what do you propose, Brida?” He responds.

Brida regards her with a look that makes her blood run cold. She has never seen anyone look at her as though she is worth less than nothing, her brown eyes are filled with utter contempt. “Send him her head,” she tells him, “it is more shocking to Christians when you are prepared to kill women and children alike.”

She gasps audibly, stricken by terror at the notion that they intend to behead her, until she feels his hand upon her shoulder.

“You will not touch her,” he says cooly, “slaughter the men, but she stays with me.”

“And what will you do with her?” Brida asks, raising an eyebrow.

“That is for me to decide,” he responds dismissively.

He makes a cut throat gesture at the Danes that flank Brida, then nods towards the kneeling guards, before pulling her back to her feet and directing her inside of the King’s estate.

She winces as she hears the sound of blades making thick, wet impact upon flesh, followed by dying screams of agony. Despite her shock and disgust, she cannot help the twinge of relief that lightens the feeling in her chest that that is not what destiny has in store for her, at least not yet.

The room that he brings her to is what she assumes is a study. It is filled with books, maps and writing materials, the space is occupied by a wooden writing desk, a chair and a settee.

As her eyes travel around the room, taking in her surroundings, she’s startled out of her reverie when her gaze settles back upon him. He is standing so close, silently observing her, his expression unreadable.

Once more she is reminded of how little she is wearing, and now that she is alone with him, fear of what he might do to her returns in earnest.

“S-stay back,” she stammers, backing away, eyes scanning the room for something, anything, that she can use as a weapon.

He smirks, unmoving, as he looks her over from head to toe. “Be calm, little warrior. Do you know who I am?”

Her face contorts in confusion. “No…”

He straightens, tilting his head slightly, clasping his arms behind his back. “I am Sigtryggr Ivarsson. I am a Dane. If I wish to hump a woman I do not need to do so by force.”

She softens slightly, fear does not grip her heart quite so icily as before. His name is meaningless to her, but she is relieved that he means her no harm.

Sigtryggr leans in, his breath tickling the shell of her ear. “But make no mistake, little warrior, I will have you, and you will beg me for it.”

She draws back quickly in disgust - not at his words, but at the reaction they elicit from her. The way warmth pools in her lower belly fills her with immense guilt. This man has invaded her home and killed people she knows, people she loves, she should despise him.

Swallowing thickly, unease prickling at her, she elects to change the subject. “What have you come here for?”

“To take what I am owed,” he says simply.

“And what is it you believe you’re owed?”

“Land. Your people drove me from mine,” he explains, anger lacing his tone, “your boy King will give back what he stole, or I shall keep Winchester and send him the heads of his children.”

She inhales shakily, feeling like she wants to cry. “A-and…how do I factor into all of that?”

He softens, shrugging slightly. “You don’t, but I can’t imagine your King will yield quickly, and it is always nice to have company. You are brave, for a Christian.”

“So I am your prisoner?”

“No, little warrior. You are free to leave any time you’d like, and take your chances with Brida.”

The implication is not lost on her. Her freedom is an illusion when the alternative is death. Sigtryggr is her only guarantee for safety.

“Shall we find something else for you to wear?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

She looks down at the thin material of her shift, seeing how dirty it is from having been crouched beneath the cart, dragged out and then forced to kneel on the steps of the estate. Her cheeks heat up with embarrassment.

“Yes, please,” she whispers.

He nods. “Wait here.”

Sigtryggr leaves her alone in the study, not bothering to lock the door behind him - a sign of his confidence that he knows she won’t try to escape.

He returns a few moments later with a white cotton shift that is similar to the one she is currently wearing, She assumes it belongs to Ælflæd, something he has found within a bedchamber.

“Where is the rest of it?” She asks.

“What do you mean? It’s the same as what you have on, and it’s clean,” he says simply.

“Yes, but this is meant to go under–” she sighs, “nevermind.”

She takes the shift from him and begins to change, noting the way that he turns from her, keeping his eyes fixed on the shelves of books that line the walls of the room. The small mark of respect makes her smile. She had not anticipated such manners from a Heathen.

He pulls a book from the shelf when she is finished, flipping through its pages. “Can you read?”

She nods and he hands the tome to her.

“Read to me.”

“Can you not read?” She asks with a raise of her eyebrow.

“I can,” he says with a smirk, “but where’s the fun in that?”

She sighs, settling into the chair in front of the writing desk, while Sigtryggr sits upon the settee a few feet away, and she reads to him.

Over the next few weeks their days are spent much like this. She reads aloud to him, though none of the books are particularly interesting, mostly religious texts and historical records of Wessex. She’s not convinced that he pays any particular attention to the words, but he seems to enjoy the sound of her voice.

They find a Hnefatafl board and Sigtryggr teaches her how to play. They while away hours strategising ways to remove each other's pieces from the board. He has a sharp mind, is calmer and more analytical than any other Dane she’s ever met. He bests her with his cunning multiple times, until she finally begins to get the hang of it and he begins to lose to her.

“Another game?” She asks. “How many have I won now?”

He shoots her a sideways glance, a faint smile upon his lips. “I am not keeping count.”

She giggles. She is beating him, but he does not seem to mind.

They sleep upon furs and blankets that Sigtryggr has brought down to the study and fashioned into a makeshift bed. Her stomach flutters at laying in such close proximity to him, but true to his word he never touches her. Shame blooms hotly in her chest as each of the days pass and she finds herself yearning for it.

He brings her food, and the hopelessness of the situation looms over her as with every meager meal the bread tastes more stale.

“Read to me, little warrior,” he requests, reclining on the settee, his forearm slung over his forehead.

She grouses, hunger pangs causing her stomach to rumble painfully. “I cannot concentrate,” she whispers.

“What is the matter?” He asks, sitting up to look at her.

“I am hungry. I’m always hungry.”

He nods, stepping towards her and offering her his share of the bread.

She looks from his outstretched hand to his face uncertainly. “What will you eat?”

“I will manage, and you will read to me,” he tells her, as she takes the offering and he settles back down.

She smiles to herself at the gesture, warmth spreading throughout her. So she eats, and she reads to him.

Sigtryggr disappears each day, leaving her alone in the study. She only leaves to bathe and to relieve herself, but she is perfectly happy to stay put and await his return, especially when she is all too aware of the alternative.

Each day when he returns he brings news of the continuing siege. King Edward and the Wessex guard surround the walls of Winchester, but will not attack as his sons are being kept captive in the chapel. They have yet to yield to Sigtryggr’s demands for land.

She fiddles with the cross around her neck, eyeing the Mjölnir that sits around his carefully. “Can there not be a peaceful resolution?”

"It is more difficult to live peacefully with enemies than to fight them,” he tells her.

“But we live peacefully,” she retorts.

“We are not enemies, little warrior.”

The sentiment makes her heart flutter, though there is the lingering question in the back of her mind; what are we?

He leaves her alone again as usual one morning and she busies herself poring over maps to pass the time.

She turns when she hears footsteps, expecting to see Sigtryggr but instead it is a man she does not recognise. He appears Saxon, so she cannot understand why the Danes have allowed him to move around the estate so freely.

The stench of ale upon him as he draws closer is nauseating. His eyes hold malicious intent as he advances towards her, and her blood runs cold at the sight.

She stands, backing away from him. “Whatever you are planning to do, please reconsider,” she pleads, “Sigtryggr will punish you if anything happens to me.”

“I have allied myself with the Danes,” he slurs, “but at what cost? They treat me like a dog, while Sigtryggr coddles you. Tell me, whore, is your cunt really that good? Perhaps I ought to find out for myself.”

She yelps as he lunges for her, grabbing her and pinning her against the desk. Fury flashes through her as she struggles against him, attempting to free herself from his hold.

“Whatever treatment they give you, you have brought upon yourself, traitor,” she spits.

Her head snaps to the side, a sharp sting spreads across her cheek as he strikes her.

She barely has time to adjust her focus before she feels him forcefully being pulled off of her.

“Eardwulf!” Sigtryggr snarls angrily. “Fucking coward!”

His fist makes impact with Eardwulf’s face knocking him to the ground, before he is dragged away.

She curls up on the furs, shaking as tears stream down her cheeks, waiting for her heart rate to calm. What could have happened to her if Sigtryggr had not returned when he did doesn’t bear thinking about.

She is unsure of how much time has passed when he returns.

“Are you alright?”

She turns towards the sound of his voice, gasping when she sees he’s covered in blood. Rushing towards him, she places her hands upon his face. “You are hurt…”

Softly he grasps her wrists, keeping her hands where they are. “This blood is not mine, and Eardwulf will not hurt you ever again.”

Her lips part in shock at the thought that he has killed for her, saved her life twice now. She studies his face, taking in the stormy blue of his eyes, the fullness of his lips.

She allows her gaze to linger there for just a moment too long, embarrassment making her hot, eager to distract herself. She traces a finger over the scar that runs the length of the left side of his face.

“How did this happen?”

“A man tried to take my eye during battle,” he explains softly, “so I took his life.”

“But you were hurt.”

“Injured, yes. Left with a scar, yes. But very much alive.”

“As am I, thanks to you.”

She drops her hands from his face and he steps away from her, pulling off his blood soaked light armour and clothing.

She feels her throat run dry at the sight of his bare torso, all lean, lithe battle hardened muscle, adorned with scars. She longs to trace her fingers over each of them.

Looking away, she feels ashamed for harbouring such thoughts and desperately tries to ignore the throbbing ache in her core.

As night falls and Sigtryggr lays asleep beside her, the feeling that lingers between her legs has yet to subside. It is maddening, robbing her of rest. Every time she closes her eyes the image of him stood bare chested before her enters her mind.

She has never touched herself before, it is impure to do so, yet she needs relief or she is sure she will go mad.

Sparing a glance in the darkness towards Sigtryggr, she makes sure his eyes are closed before reaching a tentative hand between her legs. She lets out a shaky sigh as her fingers make impact against the sensitive flesh.

She is not quite sure what she is supposed to do, but finds that a combination of rubbing the area and bucking softly against her hand feels most pleasurable, so continues to do that, holding her free hand over her mouth to muffle the sounds she makes.

There is a feeling that builds within her, a zenith that she feels she must press towards, so she continues in earnest, until finally she feels something within her release and her entire body shudders, a soft moan stifled against her lips as white hot pleasure rolls through her body.

Laying there afterwards she does her best to calm her breaths, feeling guilty for having done something so depraved.

She is startled by Sigtryggr’s voice beside her. “If only you’d beg, little warrior, I could do that for you.”

Her breath hitches and she quickly turns away from him. Not knowing what to say, she feigns sleep, clutching her cross and praying silently that he’ll forget.

She is grateful when he speaks of it no further, and life goes back to normal, or at least what normal is for them.

That is until a couple of weeks later when Brida storms her way into the study, clearly having grown impatient with the lack of progress being made.

“It has been more than thirty days since we captured Winchester, and your negotiations with the Saxon King are not working, Sigtryggr,” she glowers at him, “the time for talking is over. We are killing more captives.”

She does not miss the way that Brida’s eyes linger upon her as she says this, a shiver of fear causes her skin to break out into gooseflesh.

“I will choose who we execute, not you,” Sigtryggr tells her.

“You cannot protect this Saxon forever,” Brida retorts.

“Oh, but I can,” he says, placing himself protectively between her and Brida. “She is mine, and I will decide what happens to her.”

Brida scoffs, turning and leaving. Sigtryggr follows, leaving her alone to ponder the fact that he has once more saved her life.

When he comes back several hours later, he looks so tired. The expression he wears is one of defeat and she feels her heart ache for him.

“Read to me,” he says softly, sitting heavily upon the settee.

She regards him quietly, she wants to comfort him. She wants to comfort herself. She has grown weary of denying him.

Before she has time to think about what she’s doing, she crosses the room, and places herself upon his lap, her thighs astride his.

“What are you do–”

His words are cut off as she presses her lips to his eagerly, before pulling away. “I’m begging, Sigtryggr, please. I–”

He surges forward, kissing her again, his mouth possessing hers hungrily as he grasps her hips, lifting her as he stands to deposit her onto the makeshift bed upon the floor, his body caging hers in against the furs.

“I knew you’d give in, little warrior,” he whispers against her neck, kissing his way down her throat to her collarbone.

His fingers toy with the hem of the shift she wears, a silent plea for consent in his eyes as he looks at.

She swallows thickly and nods, nervousness and excitement fluttering ceaselessly in her stomach.

He pulls the garment over her head, throwing it to the side before sitting back on his haunches to admire her.

“Gods…you were worth the wait. So beautiful,” he whispers reverently.

She squirms beneath his gaze, turning her head away at the intimacy of the gesture, feeling shy and uncomfortable.

“Look at me,” he tells her softly. His fingers grasp her jaw, turning her face back to him.

Slowly he undresses, until he is as naked as she is. She feels the familiar ache between her thighs as she drinks in the sight of him, chiseled and battle hardened.

“Now we are equal,” he reassures her.

He reaches for the cross around her neck, toying with it between his fingers, before giving a quick, hard tug, causing the cord to give way. “What we are about to do is no business of your nailed god,” he tells her, tossing it to one side.

He kisses her once more, slower this time, their mouths saving the feel of the other’s against it. Trailing featherlight kisses down her body until he reaches her breasts, he wraps his lips around one of their hardened peaks, sucking gently.

The sensation causes her to moan, a pleasurable sensation shooting through her body, pooling into wet warmth between her legs as she arches against him.

Sigtryggr repeats the motion on the opposite breast, before descending further down, leaving wet kisses in his wake.

She freezes up when he grips her thighs, placing them over his shoulders so that his face is level with her most intimate of parts.

“What…what are you doing?” She asks anxiously.

“I’m going to taste you,” he says matter of factly, making pointed eye contact.

“You cannot do that,” she protests weakly, “it is an unclean thing to do.”

He grins at her, shaking his head slightly. “Christian,” the word leaves his mouth as a half hearted insult, before he presses forward.

The first swipe of his tongue against her folds causes her to gasp, her hands burying themselves in his hair as he uses his grip on her thighs to pull her closer, his tongue moving against her firmer, deeper, faster.

A groan of satisfaction rumbles in his throat, the vibrations causing her insides to clench as she bucks against his face, chasing the edge of oblivion that his tongue is pressing her towards.

He sucks at her pearl, before laving his tongue over it and she cries out as she spasms against his mouth, ecstasy numbing all of her senses as he continues to lap at her.

Once she relaxes, he pulls away, sitting back between her legs, his chin slick with her juices. His fist runs over the length of his cock as he takes in her blissful state and her eyes widen as she sees the size of him.

He is thick, long and slightly curved. She has never looked upon anyone’s manhood before and she trembles as she wonders how it will possibly fit inside of her.

Sensing her trepidation, Sigtryggr caresses her cheek with his palm. “Relax, little warrior, I have prepared you well.”

He presses the head of himself against her entrance and she braces herself, but then he stops. Her eyes flit to his questioningly.

“Beg for it,” he whispers.

She whines, wanting to hide her face in furs that they lay upon.

“Beg,” he says again, more insistently.

“Please,” he pushes forward, aided by her arousal and release, “please,” he pushes forward again, more of her swallowing him up, accompanied by the sensation of stretching and the slightest of stings, “please,” he pushes forward once more, finally sheathed fully inside of her.

She realises as he settles on top of her, giving her a moment to get used to the feeling of him, that this was merely a means to distract her so that she wouldn’t focus on the possibility of it hurting and grow tense. She smiles, stroking the wild tresses of his dark hair. Always so cunning.

He withdraws his hips slowly, before carefully pushing forward again. He repeats the motion several times, watching her face carefully.

As her breathing quickens, her brow relaxing as her jaw begins to slacken, he increases his pace, hips snapping against hers faster and faster, their kisses frenzied as they pant into each other’s mouths.

She feels him throb inside of her, the sensation pushes her back towards the precipice she’d fallen over earlier, but before she reaches it he is pulling out, spilling pearlescent ropes of spend across her belly.

He wipes her clean with a blanket, discarding it before laying down beside her and pulling her into his arms. A satisfied ache settles within her, she feels she could fall asleep like this, but his voice lulls her back to full consciousness.

“I have released the King’s sons back to him,” he tells her quietly.

“What will happen now?”

“He is sending a warrior named Uhtred into Winchester to negotiate terms, if I accept those terms then my men and I will move on.”

Her heart sinks. She cannot bear the thought of him leaving, not now she knows what it’s like to be in his arms. “Oh,” is all she is able to muster, pressing tighter to him.

They fall into a quiet doze, until he gently squeezes her shoulder. “I must go and speak with Uhtred.”

She watches sadly, quietly, as he dresses. He leans down to kiss her before he leaves and she pushes her lips eagerly to his. If he is to abandon her then she will cling to every last moment until he does.

When Sigtryggr returns later, she is dressed in her shift again, though her cross remains discarded. She is seated by the window, staring listlessly out of it.

He carries a bundle of clothing in his arms and she looks at him curiously.

“To keep you warm,” he explains, deepening her confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“I have discussed terms with Uhtred and we have reached an agreement. I will leave Winchester, on the condition that you accompany me…not as my prisoner, but as my woman.”

She grins, running into his arms and wrapping her arms around his neck.

As they ride away from Winchester, side by side on horseback, she does not feel as though she is leaving her life behind. On the contrary, it has just begun.

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sirenmoth · 2 months

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Monster Mash - Vampire

CW: blood, blood marking, marking, blood kink, blood as lube, biting, bruises, hickies, sleepy sex, soft sex, brief oral sex, praise

AO3 Monster Mash Masterlist <- Previous || Next ->

Late night or maybe early morning was when one of them decided they needed you and your daily activities began. Being woken up no longer feeling the warmth of the blankets over you, the feeling is replaced by a set of cold arms carrying you, bridal style, into the house. You got a few good hours of undisturbed much needed rest, the Satyr let you stay in his hut to heal and help with anything while you stayed in bed, recuperating from tending to your werewolf mate with his rut the prior week. Your whole body ached and was sore all over, muscles tense and bruised, so sleeping in a warm and comfy bed was a dream come true. Now you're being placed down on a set of satin silk beddings and the welcoming chill of the room, two telltale signs of where you are and who you are with.

The cold air that drifts around the room like a sprite and the dim lighting make it seem like the candle flames cast shadows of dancing figures across the walls.

"Sorry if I woke you, my love, just you looked so peaceful and etherial while you slept, I should get a painting done to capture it." Your vampire lover whispered in your ear, "Though I don't think it would do your beauty justice."

Cold, corpse-like hands wandered over your body, up your thighs and rested on your hips, massaging and kneaded the flesh like a cat as he left butterfly kisses on your neck, pulling the shirt up to reveal your lower half bare. His hands moved towards the faded marks in feather-like touches, tracing the barely visible bites and bruises that decorated your skin, tracing them like he is admiring his work.

The shirt didn't last long, whose shirt was it? Was it yours or one of your partners? Either way it was now nothing but a pile of scraps, ripped from your body with a growl, it probably smelled like one of your mates anyway. "Stupid piece of fabric," he muttered, "smells vile, it ruins yours, can't have that now, can we? Not when you're with me." He nipped at the flesh on your neck with his fangs, softly prying your legs open. Slotting himself between them while he caged you with his arms around your waist.

Small nips and bites on your jugular, drawing the tiniest amounts of blood, like he's taste testing his meal to come while he worked you up, teasing you by rubbing your thighs, kissing and biting down your body until his head was between your thighs, he placed a kiss to your inner left thigh. Looking up at you as he started to nip at your legs, before biting down on your left thigh, causing you to yelp from the sudden pain and feeling, watching as he held a tight, bruising grip on your leg as he drank.

Moaning out softly at the vampires actions and the sensation of him feeding, you let your head fall back on the soft, plush pillows, flinching ever so slightly as he bites down at a new area, switching between them as he feasts, briefly stopping to mouth at your slit, the blood from his meal dripping down on to you and the bed below. Using his tongue to lap up as much of missed blood as possible, using it as a way to show you are his. Running his tongue up and down to your hole and back up to your clit, in long-drawn-out strokes, "You always taste so good." He speaks, muffled, as he buries his face into the flesh of your thigh once more.

More nips and bites as he makes his way back up your body to your neck, stopping to spread more of your blood on your skin, kissing it to leave bloody kisses in his wake, marking you in your own blood even more. Your lover removes his cock from his cock from his trousers, grinding between your legs, collecting your wetness, blood and your werewolves leftover cum, being mindful of the marks and open bite wounds he recently just left on your skin.

Humming you spread your legs wider for him, giving whatever form of verbal conformation your sleep idled, recently fucked for a whole week brain can manage, the vampire lines himself up to you before slowly slipping the tip of his dick in, "oh, loot at that, you're so wet, that mutt opened you up nicely, stretched you wide," leaning over your body, he places kisses to the side of your mouth, passing some of your own blood to you, staining your lips red, "Bet I can slide right in."

He was right, one quick thrust and his pelvis met yours, your gummy walls welcomed him with no issues. He started with small bites on your neck once again, little grazes of his fangs here and there, barely functioning the soft tissue. Lazily grinding into you, enjoying the warmth of your walls and skin, draping his cold body over yours as he held you by the hips.

Then he started to leisurely fuck you, mindlessly while he ate, fixated on feeding off you, sucking on your neck to stake his claim knowing the other would see and take it as a challenge, pulling orgasm and orgasm from you as he humped, stimulating that small bundle of nerves. The skin around your neck and shoulders, as well as your inner thighs, are scattered in bright red marks that will soon bloom into a garden of blemishes and bruises for you to admire.

He always says your blood taste better, more savoury, when lust and arousal coursed through your veins like a forest fire. Like a drug, a drug he never wanted to quit or give up, even if he tried to. Feasting on you while you lay there and look pretty, not even in a sexual way, was a sight your vampire loved more than anything, except maybe his love and devotion for you.

Getting slowly fucked while your mind balances on the tightrope between unconscious and conscious. Was there any way better than spending your time?

A few drops drip down the valley between your breasts, the vampire smirks, bowing his head down to a lick a few up, running his fingers over the rest, smearing the blood over your skin as he picks it up. Watching with half-lidded eyes as he brings his fingers up to his mouth to devour the liquid meal that tried to escape, making a show of weaving his tongue between his fingers to ensure nothing is missed, not once breaking eye contact, leaning his body back over you once done.

"Delicious, so sweet." You moan softly at his words, half drunk off orgasms and the overstimulation from last week's ordeal, half off bloodless. Another orgasm is pushed from you when he grinds his hips against you again, his thrusts speed up to the point where your overly tired body can't keep your legs or eyes open. Reaching for his left hand, intertwining your fingers with his, holding his hand while your free arm wraps around his neck, playing with his hair while he drinks from you.

Several bites litter your pulse points, bright red and wet with saliva from where he's been recently feeding. His grip tightens around your hips, nails digging into the flesh, drawing out more pin prickles of blood, finally spilling his cum into you as he takes one last mouthful of blood, stilling his hips and he laps up what's left as you catch your breath.

You lay there in each other embrace, he cradles your head with his free hand, not letting go of yours, giving short kisses as his undead body cools down your overheated one. Slowly removing himself to get up and grab a wash cloth while you lay there on his bed, cleaning you up and tending to the bites and bruises with a healing cream the orc brought back from one of his travels a while ago. Pulling you close, his ear close to a vein so he can hear your heartbeat, it was something that calmed him, hearing your heart rhythmically beating, you had a feeling it was because he missed his own, but he was defensive when asked. He let you sleep, regain some energy and catch up on the sleep he disturbed a few moments prior, before your other lovers came knocking and asking for a turn.

#vampire x reader #vampire x human #monster smut #monsterfucking #monster fucker #monsterfucking cw #monsterfucking nsft #monsterfucker #monster boyfriend #monster lover #terat0philliac #terato #teratophillia #exophelia

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fayes-fics · 2 months

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When The World Is Free: Chapter 15 - La Vie En Rose

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, romantic vaginal sex, a brief reference to oral sex. Also features time jumps and the war coming to England.

Word Count: 2.4k

Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl. Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. This is the last chapter, and our pair finally have their idyllic home together in Wiltshire. There will also be an epilogue for this story that will be posted shortly after this chapter. Thanks as always to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!

Wiltshire, UK, December 1939 - December 1940

The early December chill creeping under the hem of your wool coat instantly evaporates as your husband carries you over the threshold into your new home, warmth radiating from the roaring fires that blaze in each room.

“Welcome home, Mrs Bridgerton,” Benedict smiles, placing you gently onto your feet in the hallway, even as you do not relinquish the loop of your hands around his neck.

“Kiss me, Mr Bridgerton,” you appeal, pushing up onto your tiptoes and capturing his lips with yours.

Living in Aubrey Hall for the autumn was lovely, but a challenge to find privacy. Yes, time well spent as you were able to triage your friendship with Eloise, but tempered by a yearning to be with Benedict alone in your own home, impatient for the purchase to go through. It is three weeks before Christmas when you are finally able to take the last drive down to Wiltshire—this time for good rather than just a fleeting visit.

“I can't believe we are finally home,” you breathe happily over his lips, both of you breaking into matching grins.

“We are indeed,” he assures, withdrawing from your embrace to shuck his coat and help you out of yours.

“Are we alone?” you whisper as he hangs both in the hallway cupboard.

“I told the two staff we have here to take the night off once we arrived, to return in the morning. They are in the little cottage down the lane, so yes, we are indeed alone, darling wife. What on earth do you have in mind?” He teases, sauntering back to you, that beguiling crooked grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

“I would like to christen our house,” you declare, raising an eyebrow suggestively as you slide your hands up his biceps and hook them around his shoulders, pushing your body into his, your intent more than obvious.

“Which room, my love?” his voice is like velvet.

“All of them, husband,” you declare, loving the way his pupils dilate and his breath hitches. “Absolutely every single one…”

—

Refracted flames dance across his glassy pupils as he moves over you, taking you with him, dewy skin from the heat of the fireplace you lay next to. The rug is a slight burn under your shoulder blades, not that you would ever ask him to stop, wanting marks on your body from this magical night, so long overdue.

“What are you thinking of, my darling?”

His voice resonant as your nails scratch lightly along his spine, your toes running down his calf muscles, squeezing him between your thighs as he gently thrusts into your body.

“I am thinking…. I am thinking how free I feel,” you confess breathily, pushing your breasts into his broad chest, undulating your hips to meet his, wanting him so deep inside you are altered in some way. “I can scream your name like I have wanted to for months…”

He groans loudly, capturing your lips in an artless, open-mouthed, desperate kiss, his hands hooked around your shoulders, using his forearms as leverage to pull you into his rhythm. “Please do, my love, please do…. I have longed to hear you let go completely….” he admits stutteringly.

“I cannot believe I had to sneak around for weeks with the man I was married to,” you giggle, recalling those heady weeks in summer when all was a secret.

He huffs a laugh into your throat, kissing there. “And I cannot believe my wife had to sleep in a separate bed from me for so long…” After his proposal, admittedly, you had moved to sharing his bedroom, but seeing as it was right next to Eloise’s, it has been many months of quiet intimacy. The autumn night being too cold to spend in the unheated summer house by the lake.

Your hands grab his shapely bottom and encourage his movements, harsher now, chasing that moment of bliss for you both.

“Never again….” you counter emphatically, twining yourself around him like a vine, never wanting to be separated from his naked body, for him to be inside you always, always….

“Never indeed….” he concurs, his voice gravelly and cracked with emotion as he spears deeper and makes you cry his name, the sound echoing up your living room walls.

—

As the winter months slip by, The Cottage, as you have both taken to calling it, is your constant refuge. And thanks to its smallholding farm, Anthony is able to pull strings and secure Benedict's status as exempt from military conscription, a relief you are thankful for every day.

Your home is a welcoming embrace when you step in from a rewarding but chilly day working in the drafty local village library—your insistence on wanting a job something Benedict never disputed. And his artistic career blossoms, too, each piece he completes becoming a hotly contested item at auction in London. A small conservatory attached to the back of the house transforms into his art studio, where he works most days crafting beautiful, lyrical landscapes that steal your breath with their scope and beauty.

And as much as your home is a place of peace, tranquillity and creativity, it is also filled with passion; many hours are spent in joyous lovemaking in any and every room of the house, the novelty still not wearing off for either of you, even months later.

Indeed, your staff, a benevolent, older married couple who become more akin to family, soon learn to turn a blind eye to any amorous activities they may unintentionally encounter. Including one unseasonably mild and memorable evening when they returned from dinner to find you upon the lawn, screaming at the dome of stars above—your nails scraping across Benedict’s scalp as he feasted between your legs.

—

It is a cold February morning when you blink awake to the melodic trill of a robin outside the dining room window. Benedict is fast asleep as you lay cocooned in his embrace under a blanket, embers glowing ashy white in the fireplace beside you. You must have fallen asleep here after a rather vigorous late-night session on your sturdy dining table—a nightcap becoming so much more, two drained whiskey tumblers still sitting upon the gleaming mahogany.

You smile at the memory, then turn your attention to the man wrapped around you, following your compulsion to map the raised veins on the back of his hand in front of your face. Your tongue trails those contours to the constellation of freckles on his forearm that you kiss. He is so fast asleep that he does not even seem to stir…

“Maam, a telegram has just come for you,” a tentative voice calls from the doorway as you startle.

You look up to see Mrs Crabtree, sweetly averting her eyes.

“Thank you, Mrs Crabtree,” you breeze, trying to conceal your slight embarrassment at having been caught red-handed kissing your slumbering husband’s arm rather covetously first thing in the morning.

She politely bustles over and drops the envelope next to you before making herself scarce. You peel open the message, then emit a wracking sigh as a warm pair of lips slide across your shoulder.

“What’s the matter, my love?” Benedict queries, voice rough from sleep.

Wordlessly, you hand him the telegram, his eyes scrunching slightly, attempting to read it without his glasses.

In it, your parents tersely remind you of the money outstanding to the vendors for your cancelled nuptials to Stanley and request you to send additional funds as soon as possible.

“You have been sending them money?” Benedict looks appalled.

“Yes,” you sigh, sheepish to confess to the one thing you have been keeping from him for a while now. “I have been using my income to wire back money in instalments.”

“Darling, they should not be asking you to do such a thing!” he argues, getting slightly agitated. “They were plenty rich enough to pay for their daughter to travel to Paris a few months ago! This feels rather too close to extortion…”

“I do not wish to be beholden to them, Benedict,” you answer fiercely, “for anything.”

He sees the fire in your eyes, and his face softens, nodding in understanding, always your greatest advocate. “May I at least pay them instead?” he offers. “I am the reason you are not marrying that man after all,” he reminds you with a dry chuckle, nuzzling your cheek before twisting to discard the telegram into the fireplace.

“I knew I was not marrying that man the moment I dropped that damn shoe,” a light-hearted giggle bubbling up as you push onto your hands to hover over Benedict, recalling with perfect clarity the moment you first clapped eyes on the man lying beneath you now.

“You did?” he lilts, a demure smile claiming his handsome features, a hand landing warm on the curve of your bottom under the blanket, encouraging you to settle on top of him.

“Even if nothing had ever happened between us, I suddenly knew what desire truly was,” you concede, a nostalgic pang to return to Paris with him, to experience its beauty mirrored in his hazy eyes again.

He chuckles warmly, looking up at you with gentle, hooded eyes as you feel something swelling between your bodies. “It was love at first sight for me,” he confesses tenderly.

“It was?” you gasp softly, smiling broadly, staring down at the man you cannot imagine your life without, touching his cheek reverentially.

“As I said when I proposed, I would marry you a hundred times over,” he enunciates slowly, assuredly, every cell of his being radiating his sincerity and desire.

“And I would to you, Mr Bridgerton,” you grin, leaning down to capture his lips and claim him for yourself, his breath a shocked staccato as he slides into your body for the first time without protection, so much heat and skin.

“Mrs Bridgerton,” he moans, his voice a symphony of wrecked and potent desire.

“Call me your wife,” you say breathlessly, pushing up to sit upon him, the blanket falling away from your back, your naked bodies glowing in the early morning light as you begin to move.

“Wife,” he calls, hands clamping firmly around your hips as you rise and sink upon him.

“Husband…” you call back and pull his left hand up to your face, sucking his wedding ring finger into his mouth as you stare down at him challengingly, knowing how aroused he gets when you use that word, the metal clinking against the ivory of your teeth as you shudder lightly around his stretching invasion.

This. This is all I want.

—

The following spring, May 1940, Paris is invaded.

You manage to reach Solène and are grateful to hear she is well, the occupation for the most part peaceful, if not odd and jarring. Life for you in rural Wiltshire, on the other hand, is idyllic, spring bringing life to your gardens, a riot of flowers, herbs and vegetables growing, beehives buzzing with life—a wondrous time that is indelible in your mind, even in your later years.

But, as with all things that are perhaps a shade too good, that temporary peace is shattered a couple of months later, an air and sea blockade beginning in July, followed shortly after by the Luftwaffe bombing military targets on the mainland. A resolute but stoic fear gripping the nation as summer drew on, knowing civilian targets would inevitably be next.

At the end of August, Anthony commands the rest of his family to evacuate Aubrey Hall, the location far too close to the French coast for his liking, knowing as an insider that matters could escalate within a matter of days rather than weeks. You receive word that the family are moving to stay with Daphne and Simon further north in Yorkshire. Well, all except one key person. Eloise.

Ever the rebel, she telegrams to tell you she has eloped with Phillip to Gretna Green, much to Anthony and Colin's (and now Benedict’s) chagrin, moving in with him defiantly, his home not far from Aubrey Hall. Instantly becoming a stepmother, too.

“Eloise, are you certain?” you implore into the telephone, September 4th, sitting in the office of the village library.

“About Phillip? Of course I am, you idiot!”

“Not that,” you wave an unseen dismissive hand. “I knew from that first night in Portsmouth you were as gone for him as I was for your brother…” you argue, her sneer at that evident even down the phone. “I meant remaining in Kent. It seems dangerous. Why don't you and Phillip come here to Wiltshire? At least for now? We have spare rooms, and you are most welcome to stay…” you appeal, chewing your cuticle nervously.

Last night, you and Benedict had agreed she would more likely take up an invitation extended by you than him.

“I’ll talk to Phillip,” she sniffs, which is the closest you will get to a thank you for the offer.

Two days later, Eloise, Phillip and his twins are at your doorstep, and not a moment too soon as the period, latterly known as The Blitz, begins the following night. Their home in Kent is spared, but the village school suffers some damage the following week and even without her saying a word, you can see the gratitude on her face as she watches the twins play safely in your back garden.

—

“Here you go, Amanda,” you smile down at the little girl, handing her a shiny metal star to hang on the Christmas tree.

Her toothy grin is adorable as she places it on a branch, giving herself a round of applause before running off to crawl into Eloise’s lap, who is busy making festive paper chains.

It is early December 1940, and the Cranes have been living with you for four months now; you imploring them to stay as the Blitz drags on. There has been bombing all over the country, primarily larger cities, but rural Wiltshire feels as safe of a bet as anywhere, not under the Nazi flight path to London in the same way that Kent is.

Strong, warm arms wrap around your waist from behind, and you smile to yourself as Benedict crowds into you, admiring your handiwork on the tree.

“It looks beautiful, y/n,” he opines sweetly, bussing a kiss onto your temple.

“Thank you, my love,” you reply, swaying gently in his arms, watching the children giggle as they throw strands of paper in the air; Eloise’s appeal to them not to do so falling on deaf ears, her expression one of fond exasperation.

“I never thought I would see the day…. Eloise Bridgerton, a mother,” you chuckle quietly as he joins in.

“Believe me, as her brother, I feel sorry for those children every day,” he jests. “But even I have to admit she has taken to it better than any of my other siblings, to be honest,” pausing before pulling you tighter into his embrace. “And what say you to children, Mrs Bridgerton?” he queries, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice suddenly silky, that tone that has a frisson running down your spine.

“I say maybe, Mr Bridgerton, just maybe…” you respond breezily over the strain of carol singers from the wireless Phillips flips on, feeling the lightness of hope in your being - that one day, just one day, this war will be over, and the world will be free again.

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#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton smut #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n

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wisteriagoesvroom · 1 month

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18 & 63 for the trope mashup please! <3

18. Circus AU and 63. Everybody knows, mistaken for a couple ^from the prompt mash ups game!

This is a Cirque du Soleil AU where Norris and Piastri are two trapeze artists who made huge names for themselves in their individual countries. They get paired up for new show, and it involves a really tricky sequence that people are convinced is not possible and has never been done before, let alone by two guys.

They have a couple of near misses on the attempts to nail the trick, and the whole gang is watching carefully from the safety nets. People are biting their nails, and george is totally double checking the insurance papers and trying not to freak out.

Anyway, Oscar hangs upside down on the bar, totally chill. on the platform, Lando shakes the last of his nerves from his fingers. he slides a firm grip down his own bar, the one place that’s been so familiar for so many years, and he takes a breath. It’s beyond conscious thought, it’s just muscle memory, stepping into the air. With faith that the other man will meet him, in that millisecond between complete connection and the plummet.

Hands. It’s all in the hands. Lando's own fingertips moulding to the floor the first time he nailed a handstand, someone else’s careful hands that taught him his first few balances and tucks. The way his hands bled bloody and blistered, until he worked up the requisite strength.

Now, Lando grips the bar steady with both hands. Now, the steady rhythm in the pit of his stomach. Once, three times, four — the pendulum hits the peak of the apex.

Lando jackknifes through the air, and he’s twisting, house lights blurring in his vision.

Oscar waits, hands outstretched.

Then, a firm clasp from a smaller hand. Callouses pressed against his own. Years of practice, leading up to this point of contact.

His body knows before his mind does. The snap of gravity into the right place, when moving object meets opposing force. It’s Oscar’s counter-rhythm that stops him falling, Oscar’s nimble strength that matches his own. The way they do this in silence, carefully cultivated trust. In that moment, their bodies are a marvel of physics.

Below, the cast erupts in whoops and cheers. Lando wants to run around, wants to scream, but in that moment there’s not really an option - he just clasps Oscar’s forearms, and lets himself be swung.

“Well.” Oscar says, wry. “That was easy.”

Lando looks up. “Yeah. Only took fifty four tries.”

Lando can tell Oscar’s trying not to laugh. Oscar's hands stay steady though.

Someone captures the footage and it takes a while to get going, but then they’re doing numbers on socials. Cirque marketing figures this could get momentum and gradually shares more behind the scenes footage of them both: heads bowed together to talk about the tricks, tightening their wrist wraps, dusting chalk off each other, and laughing as they sip their energy drinks. They even get a portmanteau: landoscar.

The final show is obviously a massive hit. Lando and Oscar’s segment ends up being a lyrical interpretation of the life of a papaya or something. It’s Seb Vettel’s show about the lifespan of plants and bees so they’re just rolling with the vision.

When Pride comes around, the two of them step out to get coffee and a snack at their regular spot. The barista waves at them and says: “a year's free coffee for the happy couple! thank you so much for repping queer excellence in the arts.”

And Oscar’s like, “oh, uh. I mean. I am. But we– we’re not…”

Then Lando turns to him. The morning light looks good on Oscar. Oscar who always lends him sports tape, always lets him order lunch first, and always, always leans forward to catch him. In or out of the ring, he is the partner Lando trusts more than anything in the world.

So Lando tugs on Oscar’s hoodie sleeve, and is like: “actually, I’d meant to ask you…”

#landoscar #oscar piastri #Lando Norris #op81 #ln4 #mctwinks #814 #twinklaren #814m #prompt game #yeeting this before i crash to sleep #thank you leaf for always sending such fun prompts for my silly bean brain #thank you for forgiving my bizzare capitalisation throughout btw cus i wrote this on a plane #wiz.HCs

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guess-my-next-obsession · 7 months

Text

A Soft Place To Land

pairing: frankie morales x gn!reader

rating: F (this is really just 579 words of fluff, frankie strips but it’s not sexual)

a/n: the autumn chill is making me romantic for my fictional husband and this is what came of it

frankie masterlist

It was late into the evening when the headlights of Frankie’s truck shone into your living room window. It had been raining all day, autumn finally settling in with an icy chill. You knew how tired he must be, spending his day in the cold, damp body shop he co-owned with Santiago, dealing with cold, damp, impatient customers for the last ten hours.

You, on the other hand, had the day off and never once had to step foot outside the warm and cozy confines of your home. You busied yourself with chores, cleaning the house more deeply than you had in a while, maybe even since you and Frankie first moved in a year and a half ago. Now, fresh out of a warm-vanilla scented bath, you laid reading on the plush sofa Frankie insisted on buying despite it’s hefty price tag, feeling cozy in a pair of soft, fleece-lined sweatpants and a white, cotton long-sleeve.

When Frankie walked in, he looked just as glum as you predicted, a deep sigh leaving his lips as he kicked his boots off by the door while meeting your eye.

“Fucking cold out there,” he said, earning a frown and a nod from you. “You look cozy.”

“I am cozy,” you smiled, curling your finger at him to beckon him closer. Frankie obeyed, walking over to you and bending down to capture your lips for a sweet, icy kiss that left you shivering. “You’re freezing.”

“Let me in, then,” he said, yanking on the blanket covering most of your body.

“You’re dressed in your work clothes,” you giggled, batting his hand away.

“Fine,” he said, standing upright. You watched him with amusement as he started to peel off his clothes layer by layer until he was left in just a pair of black briefs and his socks. “Can you let me in now?”

“Fine,” you sighed, pretending to be burdened by his need to be close to you, when in truth it was what you loved most about him. Throwing the blanket open, you spread your legs to give him room to lay between them, Frankie’s head resting on your chest. You threw the blanket back over him and set your book aside to hold him for a minute, your fingernails lightly grazing the plains of his toned back while he slipped his icy hands underneath the dip in your back, hugging you closer to him. “How was it today?”

“Shitty,” he mumbled sleepily, his cheek squished against your sternum. “Got yelled at.”

“Cunts,” you spat, earning a chuckle from your husband.

“Missed you, baby,” he mused, turning his face to press a kiss over your heartbeat. “So warm…n’ soft.”

You couldn’t help the cheesy grin that spread across your face at the sound of his sleepy voice, your fingers lifting to lightly scratch at his scalp.

“Mm,” he hummed, squeezing you tighter. “Could fall asleep like this.”

“Go ahead,” you murmured, lightly tracing the ridge of his brow with your fingertip.

“Okay,” he said, nestling into you. “Wake me up if I get too heavy.”

“Mmkay,” you smiled, scratching his scalp once more before picking your book back up and resuming your place, Frankie’s soft snores the only sound in the world to you.

Though you wished he never had to face the cold at all, you couldn’t help but admit that you adored being the warmth he came home to every night.

A soft place for him to land.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #triple frontier fanfic #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales oneshot #frankie morales x y/n #frankie morales triple frontier #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales

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the-dumpster-fire-of-life · 8 months

Note

I’m begging on my knees rn for bill kaulitz daughter reader anything. Like I imagine they’re super close and he had her at like 16 and she’s his baby. When he goes live with the band she’s right next to him, they have self care days where they just chill and do face masks and stuff, hugging and cuddling all the time. She def goes to Heidi and tom’s house at least twice a week to hang with them and texts Georg and Gustav every day just to talk to them. The fans would adore her, edits galore. Thanks sm pook 🫶🏻

Bill Kaulitz's Daughter #2

He definitely has adores you ever since you were born

Sure you were born when he was young but he didn't care

It was a little stressful though

Especially with just starting out with being famous

He didn't know how to deal with that and especially with paparazzi

When it came out he was a teen Dad already when he was just famous and sixteen he got a bit of hate

It didn't matter though as the fandom back then was amazing and didn't care about Bill being a dad

They just loves him more and they loves you as well

Whenever fans would see you they would swoon, especially with seeing you on your dad's hip

You were always with Bill and the band every single time they were on tour, photoshoots, anything

The boys loved you and in photoshoots you were practically a prop

You were once sat on a fancy chair in that one photoshoot with them all kneeling and bowing down for jokes as the cameraman just let them take the pictures

Fans would always want your little autographs as well and they were just as valuable to them as Bill's were

When you were little there were so many pictures of girl fans holding you and kissing your cheeks with your little smile and laugh being captured

You were a really loved and cherished baby

Tom definitely used you to get girls but he also loves his niece

He loved taking you from Bill, walking you or taking you out anywhere and everywhere

Georg would steal you when Bill slept and took you everywhere with him and Gustav

You were once in a club somehow and drinking soda while on the bartenders hip and Georg serving drinks while Gustav was having the time of his life

Nobody knew how and Bill almost killed them but it was a fun time

You were always taken on stage and got to throw stuff in the crowd as well

You loved the attention and the spotlight as well

Bill kept you away from the hate and the bad things, especially when your house was broken into and you guys were moved away to LA

Bill did a very good job at being your dad even if he was young and not so mature yet

He made it very known that you were the best thing to happen to him, you're why he was still there when he was going through stuff and you're the best kid in the world

He would always post your accomplishments, went to any games or recotald or plays you had and be proud

He made sure you had everything and anything you needed as well and didn't care what people thought of him

When you get older your dad and you just get closer

You're always hanging out with him, and proud to be his kid

He wants to relax with you a lot so you guys have little pamper and relax sessions

Skin care, watching movies or stuffing your faces with anything you could want

You always want a hug from your dad, probably still sleep in his bed like your little from time to time

You are a guest in his lives, in photos and videos and hugs all the time

There weren't a lot of edits though because it was in the early 2000's

But when the band got popular again in 2023?

YOU HAD YOUR OWN TAGS, VIDEOS AND EDITS

You saw videos and edits of you from years ago and stuff that you didn't even remember and just reminisced all over again

It was like a fever dream and the fans loved you just as much still

You definitely always go to Heidi and Tom's house as well

You're very close with your uncle's still and Tom's step kids and Heidi

You steal Tom's clothes and shit and still tease him like your a kid still

He's the uncle trying to keep you out of trouble but somehow gets into trouble with you

So many pictures of you around his house as well as your like his own baby even when you're his niece

He loves letting you stay over and lets you all the time

You're constantly texting Georg and Gustav even if you're not living as close to them anymore

You miss those times on the tour bus everyday with them and being so close to them

But you manage and you still visit them and they visit you

You were probably a flower girl in Gustavs wedding and were so happy to meet your cousin, Gustavs daughter, as well

Georg and his fiance are also so close to you as well

You once snuck literally out to Germany somehow and crashed at Gustav's place and somehow Georg was there

Nobody told Bill until he called Gustav and freaked because he couldn't find you and Gustav just passed the phone to you

You weren't even mad, just wanted to see your cousin and uncles

Bill just stopped and stared at you with a deadpan

He has accepted it and loves you but you definitely got grounded

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@billsjum6ie @bigbootahjudy @ilovebill-and-gustav @kiwitsune @v4mpyboyy @novaaisstupid @billybabeskaulitz @yas-v @iischafer @dilfverz @ahswhore0 @graciegizmo3184 @sweetpuffy12 @80s-tingz @ryiana @yuriayato5 @bunnysenpai31 @banshailey @bellastoner420 @victryzvv9 @stxngnr @killed-kiss @stilesandjames @m00nzyblogs @sylisan @lyzit @Cyb3rlex @laylasbunbunny @5hyslv7 @limaswife @nyxwritesshit @papichulo120627 @fullw0rld @Cheristarr

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel imagine #tokio hotel x reader #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz imagines #bill kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz imagines #tom kaulitz x reader #tokio hotel georg #gustav tokio hotel #tom kualitzs #tom kaulitz x you #gustav schäfer x reader #gustav schafer x reader #gustav schäfer #georg listing x reader #georg listing

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bagopucks · 1 year

Text

N. Hischier - Comfy

✄————————————

Nico Hischier x Reader

Requested✨

Word Count: 3.3k

Warning(s): Flirty seductive Nico, copious amounts of fluff

Had this one in the notes app, was saving it for an occasion where I might not have had inspo or requests, but seeing as somebody wanted some Nico content and it’s too late/early to be coming up with a story line- here it is!

—————————————

Post-game evenings had always been my favorites. The nights Nico and I lay curled up in bed while he held me, or talked my ear off while I tried to sleep. Nights when Nico came home with so much energy, I never exactly knew what to do with him. Energetic post-game Nico was alright.

But calm, relaxed, content, post-game Nico? It was like hitting a gold mine. Those nights when he came home, dropped his duffel inside the door, and forgot the world to be in my arms. Those were the nights I specifically looked forward to. I always anticipated them. I loved Nico no matter what mood he came home in, but I preferred some over others.

I sat on the couch, my kindle in my lap as my feet rested on the wooden coffee table. Despite the cool weather outside, it was warm in the house. When Nico and I got a place together in the suburbs, I insisted we share custody over the thermostat. So far, we have not come to a comfortable compromise. Our days were often spent adjusting the temperature as we walked through the house doing our own thing. It became a subconscious action. I’d turn the heat up. Nico would walk by hours later to turn the AC on.

Then I’d go back later on to turn the AC off and the heat up higher because of the chill in the house.

Then Nico would come back looking like he was dying of a heat stroke, turn the heat off, and the AC on.

When he was away for games? I always had the heat on.

The game had been playing on the tv, an oddly scheduled middle of the afternoon event. By the time it had ended, the time was nearing 6:00. Prime time for a good sunset. I never really watched it, but I enjoyed the glow it cast through the open curtains of the living room.

My foot tapped occasionally, impatient to get to the good part of a book I began to lose faith in. It was bad enough I couldn’t physically see my progress, but not being able to flip to a whole middle page and read ahead was even worse.

I heard a key jingle in the lock, a smirk formed on my lips as my attention was easily distracted from my book.

“Baby?” Nico’s voice called before it stopped short. He spotted me on the couch, and when I looked up, I knew tonight was one of those nights. My heart fluttered.

Nico stood there with a grin on his lips, his damp hair hidden beneath a ball cap. His suit looked like he barely even got it on before walking out the arena door.

I shut my kindle off and set it to the side, stood from the couch, and met Nico by the door. He dropped his bag so both hands could capture my hips.

“Nic.” I leaned up onto the tips of my toes and pressed a kiss to his lips. Nico hummed as he pulled away. I quickly slipped his hat off his head and tossed it on top of his bag.

“I was thinking about an ice bath?” Oh how delightful it sounded, but I was in no mood to sit down in the bath. Perhaps a bit too lazy to know I’d have to wash myself when I already got a shower that day.

“I’ll sit with you.” I whispered and pressed a kiss to his collar bone. “Wine too?” He couldn’t tell if that meant I was joining him or not, but he didn’t ask.

“Try one of our unopened bottles.”

I smiled to myself, whisking away into the kitchen to find what I needed. I snatched up mixing bowl for the ice, going to the freezer to scoop out a hefty amount. Then I grabbed a bottle of unopened wine, and two glasses, before I had gone to meet my lover in the master bathroom.

I passed the thermostat without taking note of the fact that it had been turned down.

“Ice and Wine.” I showed off the bottle as I entered the bathroom and set them aside. Nico was seated on the lip of the bathtub, having moved the shower curtain out of the tub. He was trying to find a good chilled temperature for the bath water. I smiled at the sight of him and approached slowly, my hand on his shoulder brought his gaze up to mine.

“I’ll sit in here with you, but Nico I don’t think I’m getting in the bath.” His face fell. I pushed a strand of his beautiful brown hair from his forehead.

“You’ll be okay without me. I told you I’d sit right here. You can tell me all about your game.”

“You always get in with me.” Nico rested his hands on the backs of my thighs. “Is something wrong?”

Amusement flashed across my face in the form of a smile and an eye roll.

“I get in the warm baths with you. Not the ice cold muscle relaxing baths.” I pulled away and Nico huffed before plugging the drain so the tub could fill.

“I still relax your muscles in the warm baths.” His comment was sly. Spoken with a straight face, but he knew what he was hinting at. As did I.

I turned back to him and chuckled softly.

“Not tonight Nico.” We were both too physically exhausted to have any fun, and I didn’t particularly mind. My mind wasn’t in that headspace anyway. His didn’t seem to be either, despite the comment that was made.

Nico turned to face me, parting his legs as I stepped between them. I slipped the suit jacket from his shoulders, careful to grip the fabric and pull it up swiftly before a sleeve hit the bottom of the tub.

“Good hands.” He decided to be cheeky. I smiled and ruffled his hair.

“The best hands.” I confirmed playfully as I tossed his suit jacket toward the counter. Half of it landed there before the heavier portion hanging off dragged it to the floor.

“Hands that could-“

“Hands that will not.” I cut him off as I unbuttoned his shirt. Perhaps he was in a bit of a friskier mood than I first thought.

“Fine, I give up.” Nico sighed out. I abandoned the few buttons left, not wanting to bend over and give him any more ideas. He must have caught on to the fact that I wasn’t going any further, because he moved to finish the job before I had turned to grab the bowl of ice from the counter top.

I heard his shirt drop to the floor, and I caught a bit of the fabric on my toe to drag it away from the tub as I turned back around.

Nico shirtless was always a sight to behold. When he was standing, his abs were on full display. Not the most toned, but also not lacking in definition. He was a strong guy, but by no means ripped. I loved the way his body looked. Not chiseled to perfection, but smooth like a marble statue. And comfortable to lay on.

I pursed my lips at the sight and shook my head in the process. Nico’s lips pulled into a bright smile. He knew what I was looking at. He loved to be admired as much as he loved to be touched. Not in an egotistical way, but more so in a rewarding way. He worked hard on his body, and to know his girlfriend loved it.. well that was all the gratification he needed.

“You’re sure you don’t want to come in with me?” His words were taunting, as if he tried to clue me in on something I was missing out on. I shook my head at his antics, stepping forward again and leaning sideways over him to dump the ice into the bath. A few of the chilly drops splashed up and landed on his back. Nico jolted at the feeling, one of his hands clasped my leg out of sheer surprise.

“You sure you wanna get in there?” I returned the attitude, stepping back and leaning forward, leaving space between us but still eye level with him.

“It’s good for the muscles.” His words weren’t exactly a yes, but I reached out and placed a hand on his chest. I gave a firm shove, and Nico about had a heart attack as he tried to catch himself from falling back into the water.

“That’s mean!” He let out a laugh as he sprang up. He hadn’t wanted to be anywhere near the water after my little trick.

“Teasing your lover is meaner.” I set the bowl back on the counter. I leaned back against the cabinets and reached for the wine bottle, only to pause when I noticed the cork. Nico made his way over. He went to grab my hips before I raised the bottle in between us. His mischievous eyes lowered to the bottle, pursing his lips before sighing.

“You wanna be useful?” Caramel brown irises meeting my own. He looked offended, but I knew he was only playing a part.

“Brutal.” Nico took the bottle from my hands, and quickly disappeared from the bathroom. I shut the lid of the toilet in the meantime, and grabbed two towels. One that I put on the counter for Nico, and one that I laid out on the floor by the bath tub.

When Nico returned, the bottle was open and a prideful smile resided on his lips.

“My hero,” I fawned as I snatched the bottle from his hand.

“I try.” I turned back to the counter and grabbed the wine glasses, setting them both on the edge before filling them with a generous amount of the hopefully sweet alcohol. I heard Nico slip off his pants. When I turned back around, I realized he hadn’t bothered taking the time to take off his pants and his boxers one after the other.

I choked on my own breath. Caught off guard, but also amused by the way he stood there, hands held out by his sides with that smirk on his face that just said, ‘you’re sure?’

“Get in the bath tub before I lock you outside naked.” Nico huffed, his head dropping to look at the floor as he stomped his way over to the bath tub. It was a short distance, but he made due with the time he had to throw his little tantrum before stepping in.

I watched his whole body tense, my gaze lingered on his backside. “Take your time, Captain.” Nico’s head whipped around, but my gaze hadn’t moved. He knew I was flirting. Still, he went back to the task at hand. He lowered himself carefully into the tub, and released a shaky breath as he leaned back, his head falling back against the wall of the shower.

“I don’t understand how this is supposed to help with sore muscles.” I mumbled, turning the bathroom light off and flicking the switch on the wax burner I had plugged into the outlet by the mirror. Something to emit a soft orange glow and hopefully burn the lavender scented wax cubes I had in there. I sat on the towel outside the tub, leaning against the porcelain as I rested Nico’s glass on the corner where there was a bit more surface area. His head turned to look at me, dark hair falling over equally dark eyes. A look of fondness flashed across his features.

I took a sip of my wine, patient for him to speak as he got comfortable. Or as comfortable as one could in an ice bath.

“I love you, so much.” Nico’s soft whispers landed on my heart, making it skip a beat.

“I love you too, Nico.” I took another sip of my wine before Nico grabbed his own glass. He shifted his body and rested his elbows over the edge of the tub, smiling all the while as he taste tested the new flavor of sweet wine we had yet to drink. Until now of course.

I eyed him. Nico’s features contorted as he tried to decide his thoughts on the flavor. He nodded his head, before giving a shrug. Then he looked up at me.

“Not bad.” I couldn’t help but laugh. Nico wasn’t exactly high maintenance, but he wasn’t casual either. He could be a little picky with things sometimes. Especially his wines.

“I happen to think it’s great.” I leaned in closer and rested my head against the wall. “Which means we’re getting a second bottle.”

Nico pushed his hair back as he rolled his eyes at me, trying to contain his own smile.

“You need to try Swiss wine.” His subtle excitement was everything to me.

“You need to take me to Switzerland.” I countered softly. Nico leaned forward, and I met him in the middle for a quick kiss.

“I will. I will.” He settled back into the bath tub, his hair falling into his eyes again.

“No rush though, baby.”

“I know…”

Nico tried to push back his hair, but after another failed attempt, I swiftly stood up. He watched me curiously as I walked toward the cabinet and opened it, digging through until I found one of my hair clips. When I returned to the side of the bath tub, I sat on the floor and rested my wine glass beside me. Nico seemed to catch on to what I was doing, as he dipped his head and allowed me to gather his hair back and clip it to the top of his head. He looked a little funny, but at least he could see.

“Better?” I asked, and he nodded.

“Better.”

Nico’s head eventually rested against the lip of the tub. He let out a long sigh as I took in every detail I could. His big brown eyes watched me as I studied him. Like an intricate work of writing. But I wasn’t looking for misspellings or wrong punctuation. I was looking for the well worded phrases and strategic uses of figurative language. The beauty. Not the flaws.

We spent god knows how long in the bathroom. We talked and giggled and laughed, but the energy levels had depleted significantly as time went on. Nico was still in the bath well after the ice had melted and the water adopted a room temperature feeling.

Sometime along the way, our conversations had ceased and Nico’s consciousness had slipped from him. I quietly stood up, slipping the wine glass from the edge of the tub where he’d set it. I finished off whatever he’d left, placing our glasses on the counter before I looked back at him.

His arms were folded one on top of the other on the lip of the tub, his head resting on top of them. His upper body was awkwardly turned on his side, while his lower body still laid flat. It looked uncomfortable. I grabbed my phone to check the time. Only a little past midnight. I pulled up my camera and snapped a few photos of my sleeping lover’s peaceful expression before I walked back into our bedroom. He needed a change of clothes, though I knew most nights he usually preferred to sleep in only whatever loose shorts he could find. He didn’t believe in sleeping in boxers, and quite frankly I didn’t blame him.

I grabbed a t-shirt out of our dresser, just so he’d have the option if he wanted one. I set the shirt and shorts on our bed and tossed my phone beside them. I waltzed back into the bathroom, knelt by the tub, and carefully pulled the clip out of his hair.

“Love,” I whispered before moving my hand from his hair to lightly pinch his arm. Nico shifted uncomfortably at the feeling, then tried to move his arm.

“Nico, your body’s gonna be sore, come on.” I continued to speak softly, but I did raise my voice slightly. He groaned, but eventually his eyes opened. “There we go.” I stood up and grabbed the towel I had set out for him.

Nico yawned and took a moment to wake up before he lifted his head. He eyed me as I unfolded the towel and held it open for him. He rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless.

“Sorry.” His voice was quiet and deep as he slowly got up. Nico stepped out of the bath and shivered before I closed the space between us and wrapped the towel around his lower body, making sure it was tight before I tucked the loose corner in.

“Don’t apologize for falling asleep.” I reassured before stepping past Nico. I leaned over the tub and unplugged the drain. “You’re cute when you sleep.”

He chuckled softly as his cheeks turned red. Something I didn’t take note of until I was facing him again.

“I grabbed a shirt for you.” I left the bathroom, and Nico quickly followed.

“Might need a sweatshirt. It’s freezing.” I immediately turned around after I reached the bed, glaring at Nico.

“You just took an ice bath! Of course it’s gonna be cold!” His lips pulled into a smile.

“Don’t bullshit me, Nico. Walking around here talking about how cold you are,” I rambled playfully as I turned back to the bed and grabbed his clothes. The moment I looked back at him, Nico was giggling. I threw his clothing at him and tried not to smile.

“Change, you loser.” I teased before going to find my own sleepwear. I settled on a pair of satin shorts and a matching shirt.

Nico was dressed far quicker than I was. I changed facing away from him, but when I turned back around, he was certainly staring at me.

“What is your deal tonight?” I finally asked, laughing. Incredulous.

“I don’t know,” I could recognize the bashful tone in his voice. It’s one I don’t hear often. Not since we got together. Nico had always been a quiet guy. I wouldn’t venture as far as calling him shy, but more so easily flustered. Still, I hadn’t seen him look that nervous around me in a long time. “You’re just so pretty.. I just wanted to look at you.”

Usually I was skeptical about Nico’s compliments. All of them were genuine, but sometimes it was hard to tell when he was trying to flatter me because he wanted something or not. But this one was so innocent I simply knew it was genuine. He didn’t want anything other than a smile.

“You’re so cheesy.” I grinned as I made my way around to my side of the bed. Furthest from the door because Nico insisted I was safer there in case somebody broke in.

His thoughtfulness never ceased to make me happy. I was satisfied knowing he was willing to protect me. Once upon a time, I might have claimed to be independent and happy in taking care of myself. Nothing beats being able to find the right person to surrender that job to. Maybe not full time, but Nico was certainly my protector when he was around.

“Come on, Icepop.” I spoke as I pulled the blankets back and climbed in bed. Nico didn’t have to be told twice. He was quick to join me, slipping into bed beside me and laying down with me. He pulled the blankets up over us, and I quickly found my spot curled into his side.

“Comfy?” Nico whispered. I nodded, resting my head against his chest. I lifted one of my legs to rest over his waist, and wrapped an arm around his torso. He wasn’t really that cold, but I decided not to give him grief about being a baby.

“Always comfy with you.” I spoke softly in response, pressing a kiss to his side.

✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩

#nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nico hischier #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier x reader #trevor zegras #jack hughes #quinn hughes

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watercolorfreckles · 5 months

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The Pretty Prince of Avenglow

This is a secret santa snippet for @thepenultimateword ! Thank you for arranging this fun event for everyone, and for entrusting me with your prompt. I've been in a long writing rut, so this was really tough for me to finish on deadline. But I did it! I know this is far from the best thing I've ever written, but it is something! Hope you like it!

Her prompt was: "Fragile pretty boy x strong/buff lady. He is super smitten with her. This can be a hero x villian universe thing, or a prince and a lady knight, or a captured sailor/aristocrat/etc. and a pirate queen, or whatever you want, I just really love this type of relationship dynamic"

“Well, now, you must be the prettiest piece of treasure I’ve found all year.”

The prince coughed and spluttered, thrashing at the coils of fishing net that entangled his limbs. His clothes, sodden and leaden, seemed to weigh him to the deck.

“Shh, hush now,” the pirate captain before him spoke again, crouching to his level, balanced deftly on her booted heels. “I take excellent care of my belongings.”

The prince stilled, dragging his gaze up to meet hers. He nearly choked again, though all seawater had since been purged from his lungs.

The stories he’d heard, the wanted portraits pasted on village walls, paled in comparison to the figure leaning over him: Vespertine Crow, captain of the Evening Star.

His insides swirled.

She was a unique kind of beautiful, with long black hair twisted into a braid loosened and tousled by the sea’s salty breath. The contour of her silhouette struck him as statuesque, strong and muscled and gracefully carved. He imagined that she might be as impenetrable as stone, too.

“H-Hi,” he said dumbly.

Vespertine’s lips spread into an amused smile, sharp as the glittering knife twirling between her fingers. She wiggled her free hand in greeting. “Hi, pretty thing. I have to say, I hardly expected my nets to scoop up the Spare Prince, Evrin of Avenglow, soggy and half-drowned in the middle of the Tempest Sea. How serendipitous.”

As he swallowed, the prince's mouth felt abruptly dry. Though he couldn't see past the railing, he cast a nervous glance over his shoulder toward the sunken wreckage of the ship he'd spent days on, cooped up in a damp and creaky cell.

Captain Vespertine followed his gaze, then tilted her head. “Poor thing. Taken and held for ransom, were you?”

The memories flashed behind Evrin’s eyes. It was while he'd been visiting the village to check on his people that he'd been ambushed near the docks, plucked away from the fragile safety of land to be thrown on board the traitors’ ship.

He'd been helpless, no better than a spoiled house cat tossed into the bath.

Evrin managed a nod.

Vespertine made a pitying sound. “Sweet thing. Sinking that vessel was my doing. Aren't you going to thank me for saving your life?”

The knife in her hand moved and the prince jerked back.

Vespertine paused and tutted. “Now Your Highness, I could have nicked you. ‘Can't go risking that pretty face of yours, you should know better.” Her voice was a balm against the aching burn of him. Soothing, though the chill of it still had enough bite to nip at his nerves.

He stilled once more.

Unpicking the tangles of net with the edge of her blade, Vespertine cut him free.

It reminded him of a bird he'd freed once, legs and wings knotted up in fishing line. The mental comparison warmed his cheeks.

“That's better.” She tugged the shed netting over his head, tossing it aside and straightening onto her feet. A calloused hand extended out to him. “Up you get, pretty.”

Evrin hesitated, eyeing her hand. His limbs felt terribly heavy. He wasn't sure he'd be able to stand if he tried. “Thank you, for….saving me.” The end of his sentence lifted into something more like a question.

That startled a soft laugh from the captain. Her eyes glittered with mischief, holding a Tempest Sea of their own. “My pleasure, Highness.”

When he didn't take her hand, Vespertine reached down, hands locking under his arms, and hauled him to his feet as if he weighed nothing at all. Wobbling on weary legs, he caught the pirate's sleeve, looking up at her.

His attention snagged on the fact that she was a few inches taller than him, and certainly far stronger. His belly did a stupid swoop.

“What are you going to do with me?”

“Mm… That is the question. Let's discuss it in my cabin, shall we?” Draping an arm around him, the pirate captain swept him away, leading him down below deck and into her quarters.

Her will was as irresistible as the moon's will over the tides.

Vespertine gave his chest a light shove and the prince buckled back onto her bed. Catching himself on his hands behind him, his fingers curled around the woolen blanket atop it. It scratched lightly at his fingertips.

Evrin put up no fight, dazed. She drew his gaze with the same allure as the sky and the bottomless sea. Beautiful, dangerous, powerful. Graceful in its dance of crest and fall.

He watched the captain as she rifled through her closet, pulling out a white, long-sleeved shirt with ties to lace the top, as well as a pair of gray trousers. “Here. I'm sure you'll feel much better when you're out of those clothes.”

The prince's cheeks warmed again. “You…want me to wear your clothes?”

“You're a delicate, skinny little thing, I'm sure you'll fit. Besides.” She unsheathed her sword, leveling it with his chest and using it to lift the fabric above his heart where his crest was attached. The prince's breath caught. “I'll need this from you to prove you're alive if I'm to collect the reward.

“Re…Reward?”

Vespertine shrugged. “I assume they prefer ‘reward’ to ‘ransom.’ One comes with a multitude of fewer threats and scandal. Which do you prefer, Highness?” She pressed the blade a fraction harder into his chest.

The prince itched to skitter away but kept still. “Reward is good,” he breathed.

“Good.”

She wielded her sword like an extension of her being, fluid and quicker than his eyes could track. There was a slash and then his princely crest was in the captain's hand. His eyes darted down to the bare square on his chest, in the spirit of every novel he'd read where the protagonist had been stabbed or harpooned and was too shocked to process the fatality.

His skin was unmarred.

Vespertine threw the clothes at the prince. “Get dressed, unless you're waiting for me to do it for you. I could be persuaded, if you say pretty please.”

Evrin’s cheeks burned at the thought, casting his gaze away from her and down to the clothes in his hands. Awkwardly, he peeled his shirt over his head.

“Smooth, pampered skin.” Vespertine tutted, sheathing her sword and stepping closer to trace a finger over the soft curve of his shoulder. “You've never seen a day of hardship, have you?”

Prince Evrin shivered, shrugging the clean shirt on. Its weight rested warm and gauzy against his skin. Embarrassed, he shucked his trousers off next, replacing them with the clean pair as quickly as he could manage under the pirate captain's stare.

“Not many, not of the physical variety, anyway,” he answered.

He straightened the clothes which fit surprisingly well, picking at the laces.

When he looked up again, she was grinning, blatantly pleased. “There, now. isn't that better? You look like a proper pirate. Very pretty.”

“Like you? I mean-” the prince squirmed, shifting to stand, then changing his mind. Submissive. “Sorry.”

She laughed again. “Sorry? For thinking I'm pretty? I'm flattered, sweetheart. You're quite lovely yourself. Now. Back to business.”

“...business?”

“Well, if I'm to return you safely, I expect a reward of… proper proportions. There's the money, yes, but I want something more from you.”

“O-Oh?”

Vespertine plopped onto the bed beside him, turning to face him. “Firstly, I want a pardon. A clean slate I can dirty all over again when it suits me.” She winked at him, and his heart fluttered between his ribs. “Secondly. Your brother took something from me. I want it back. You will get it for me.”

Transfixed, Evrin studied her face. “What did he take?”

She leaned closer to him, her gaze sharpening into something a fraction more dangerous. “My child.”

Evrin’s eyes widened. “Your child? Who–” He paused. “Iara? He said that she was an orphan; that he took her in to spare her a life of hardship and inequity.”

“Your brother lied.” Her voice was the crack of a whip; lightning striking water. When the prince startled, she softened only a fraction, looking him up and down. “You are…kinder than your brother, I can tell. Mousy, certainly, but. Sweet.”

“He is better fit to be king,” Evrin whispered. “Bolder and stronger and braver.”

“But crueler. Are you cruel, Prince Evrin?”

It seemed, suddenly, as though he was balancing on a very thin wire. He watched her face, tracking her every underlying thought.

“No. No, I’m not.”

Captain Vespertine smiled, the flash of a victory banner, and sat back. “Good. Tell me, Pretty. Spare Prince of Avenglow. How would you like to be king?”

Merry Christmas!

General Taglist: @pinned-to-the-wahl, @valiantlytransparentwhispers, @distance-does-not-matter @redbircl, @lilaccatholic, @crazytwentythrees-deactivated @thelazywitchphotographer @chibicelloking , @lolafaiy , @thinkwrite5 , @putridghost @tobeornottobeateacher @sunflower1000 , @bouncyartist , @feyriddle , @yet-another-heathen , @silverwhisperer1 , @distractedlydistracted @pensivespacepirate , @appleejuicee , @deflated-bouncingball @maybe-a-cat42, @m0chik0furan, @mercurymomentum, @fairysprinkles , @vuvulia , @amongtheonedaisy , @rose-pinkie, @trappedgoose-in-a-writblr-room , @scorpio-smiles , @inkygemuwu , @wolfeyedwitch , @thewhumpmeisterx3000, @ikiiryo , @lem-hhn , @fanastywhump , @smallangryfish , @ladybookworm @freefallingup13 , @acaiaforrest , @a-blue-comedy , @puppyaddict , @talkingsperm , @qualitychaoslover , @deckofaces ,@7eselt , @annablogsposts , @lunatic-moss-studio , @medusas-hairband

#writeblr #writers of tumblr #my writing #pirate x prince #royalty romance #hero x villain #heroes and villains #secret santa 2023 #writers on tumblr #writblr #writerblr #creative writing #pirates #flash fiction #short story #writing snippet

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xxladyballadxx · 2 months

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The Moon That Shines

𓆩♡𓆪 Vincent Valentine x (Fem) Reader 𓆩♡𓆪

Warning: N/A

𓆩♡𓆪 Note : I couldn’t be arsed writing a summary for this.. :// 𓆩♡𓆪

☾ dividers by : @saradika-graphics ☾

You were wandering off deep in the forest, chasing the deers that you captured with your eyes. As they leapt over a log and disappeared into the thin air, a roaring howl alarmed the place. Scaring the birds and other creatures, scurrying off into their hiding places. You heard another roar, a howl chilling you to the bone. Sounded like a wolf but it was more ‘beastly’ in some way.

As the fog swooped through the forest, you ran off scared and bumped into a tall, monstrous figure standing in your way. You held your head up, examining the figure that you crashed into. It was a beast who appeared out of nowhere, a very big one. His claws were sharp and long, his fangs were like werewolves, gigantic curled horns of a devil and his face…looked very demonic. You tried to use your magic to blast the beast away but you were too shaken by fear. It leaned in close to you, staring deeply into your soul as it growled. Instead of screaming for her, you fainted after seeing so monstrous and dropped to the floor…

After that unexpected event, you woke up in a strange place that looked like an abandoned house. You were lying down on a bed comfortably with a blanket over you. You gasped, getting up from the bed. You couldn’t recall what happened for some reason as it became hazy to you. Your eyes wandered the place, glancing around as you spotted a glass of water and a piece of bread on a plate left out for you on the table at the side of the bed. As you drink the water and stomach a piece of bread , you take another glance around the room, seeing how messy it looks. A bit empty except there were papers and books scattered around the floor. Even strange marks on the wall….

“You’re awake..” His voice sounded deep and somewhat hollow, like there was no sense of emotion in it. There appeared a man entering the room, wearing a red cloak with black leather attire. He was even wearing a golden gauntlet on his left arm and golden sabatons. Crimson fiery eyes and black hair like charcoal. You nearly choked on your last piece of bread when he entered the room out of the blue, crawling back in fright. “W-who are you?”

“I’m not here to hurt you...”

You calmed down a bit, putting your legs out of bed wanting to stand up, “A-alright. Tell me, do you know how I got here? I really can’t remember anything that happened, it’s all a blur to me..”

“I found you passed out on the ground and decided to take you here so you can be safe…” He simply put, walking up to you. You gave a slight nod, believing his words without saying anything in return. Although you couldn’t stop wrapping it around your finger as you were still trying to figure out why you passed out. “Why were you out in the woods at this late hour?” He asked with such firmness coming from his tone. “I was just taking a stroll, that’s all.” You responded. He cocked an eyebrow and tilted his head, “What if some monster attacked you?”

“I can protect myself.”

“Really?”

You lit a fire on the palm of your hand with a bitter smirk, “Yes.”

Vincent lifted his head back in a normal position, you honestly can’t tell if he was concerned for your safety. His expression looked so…emotionless.

“What’s your name if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Vincent Valentine. And you are?”

“(Y/n) (L/n)..”

After the introductions, Vincent escorted you outside his home and only walked with you halfway to your village, “Will you be alright heading straight home on your own?”

“Yes, thank you for um…before.”

“Take care.” He turned around and started walking back to his place.

“Wait!”

Vincent turned his face back on you once again, “What is it?”

“I was thinking if we could see each other again..”

“Why?”

“To get to know each other better. Besides you don’t seem to have a lot of friends by the looks of it and honestly…you look lonely.”

Vincent didn’t look very offended when you said that about him, “I’m used to it.”

You pointed your finger at the lake, “Let’s meet over there tomorrow by noon.” lowering your hand and flashing a smile towards Vincent. He gave a slight chuckle and turned his back around, walking off without saying in return.

You weren’t seen to be pissed by his response for some reason, you tittered and waved him goodbye as you began to walk home to your village, “I hope to see you again, Vincent!”

As the mysterious man continued to walk down the path to his home, he wondered why you were so interested in him. Vincent didn’t wish to upset you so he actually turned up and headed up to meet you by the lake at noon the very next day. You brought a picnic along with you, hoping to share some with Vincent. He appreciated you offering him food but he wasn’t very hungry which clearly made you visibly sad but you don’t seem to be very upset about it. So you sat down with him and just talked. You realized that Vincent wasn’t much of a talker, he listened to you chatting about your life. Just slight nods and a few head tilts. All these little responses from him. You weren’t expecting him to speak a lot because you’re not really bothered by it. The day goes on when the fiery sun lowered down as the pearl white moon rose in the deep dark sky.

You set your eyes on the moon, watching how it beautifully shines, “Quite pretty, isn’t it?”

“It really is..” Vincent responded simply, agreeing with you.

“I dreamt that one day, I could go there…. to the moon..” You added, lifting your hand to the gleaming light of the white pearl, “I know it’s quite cold there but I want to experience it and just sit down on the solid ground, looking at the whole galaxy..”

Vincent’s expression changed completely when you began to talk about your dream, your dream about heading to the moon. This led him to believing that you truly love the moon very much. His face softened as you continued to dream and talk about the moon. This is when you realize you were getting ahead of yourself. An innocent laughter slipped out from your mouth, “I’m sorry, it’s quite silly, isn’t it?”

The man in red shook his head, his expression becoming more soft, “No…no, I don’t believe it’s silly at all.” Although Vincent tried his best not to show it but he actually likes the dream you have, if that’s the way of putting it. You light a smile across your lips, “You know, we should see each other more often.”

“We..should?”

“Yes! I know you don’t like talking much but I was hoping we could spend some time together and get to know each other. We can sit here all day watching the moon if you would prefer that. We don’t have to talk, we can just watch the moon together.”

Vincent stood up with a little surprising smile and gestured his hand to pull you up as you smiled in return, “You know, (Y/n)...I think I might like you.

a/n - this felt so rushed omfg, I was struggling so much and couldn't think straight since I haven't been writing for a while. I also struggled with writing Vincent so he was actually quite difficult to capture but I think I did okay with him I guess?

Sequel to The Moon That Shines ⤵

No More Secrets ↩

#final fantasy vii x reader #ffvii vincent x reader #vincent valentine x reader #vincent valentine #final fantasy vii #ffvii

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ayacokeandpepsi · 3 months

Note

can I do a request with jungwon maybe coming to ur apartment after a tried day and all he wants is some pleasure? And being his best friend you give him that~

💭ˎˊ˗ That’s what roommates are for- Jungwon drabble ✧☁☂︎

Cw: smut, male masturbation, roommates to lovers, kind of dominant reader if you squint, protected sex, dry humping, fluff if you squint

You were playing a new video game on your pc at around 11pm on a Saturday night when you heard your roommate unlock the door to your apartment. Jungwon and you were roommates since 3 months ago, both in college and you saw there was an opening listed and a second roomie needed, so you applied and were accepted. Jungwon was pretty chill, he cooked dinner for the both of you and was fairly quiet around the house, didn’t have people over that much and was always talkative to you. Although you had been living together for a few months, you were still sort of strangers to each other since you were both so busy and didn’t get to talk much other than small talk and chit chats.

“Hello, I’m home,” he yelled from downstairs. You took off your gaming headphones and crossed your legs on your chair. You heard him come up the stairs and greet you before telling you he would make dinner again and disappearing.

You usually hear the sounds of pans and sizzling or water boiling when he cooks, so it was weird when it was about 10 minutes later and you only heard silence. You got up from your chair and peered downstairs through the upstairs balcony, not seeing any sign of Jungwon. You heard a noise, which made your head turn. It was barely audible, but you could hear it. It sounded like small whining noises, you walked closer to his room and it grew more audible. Your ears heated at the realization. Through the crack of his door, you could see him, but he back was turned to you. He was on his bed, and his baggy sweatpants pulled down just enough for his cock to slip out, his right hand was slowly stroking it, going up and down, playing with the tip, causing him to throw his head back in pleasure and see you standing there. He immediately pulled up his pants and stood up, embarrassed and anxious.

“Did you-did you see anything?” He panted nervously at you.

“I uhm-no! Not at all!” You lied, not trying to make him more embarrassed than he already was. His face was red and he was looking everywhere but your eyes. The way he was panting, how he sounded just now, how his face contorted in pleasure just a few seconds ago, you couldn’t help the growing smirk on your face. You pushed open the door, causing his eyes to go wide. You closed the door behind you, trying to hide your wide grin.

“I did hear .. noises..” you start. He instantly started stuttering, denying anything.

“No no I mean me? No it must have been the neighbors upstairs! I don’t know what you’re implying but I was just working, I wasn’t doing anything like that,” he stammered. You giggled which made him confused. You walked toward him as he walked back until he couldn’t and was against his bedroom wall.

“Did you… need any help?” You whisper seductively. His eyes widened and he swallowed, his heart was beating faster and faster.

“H-help? I mean, if you wanted to, I-I guess so..” he mumbled shyly. You smiled and closed the distance between you two, capturing his shaky lips with your own. You grabbed his jaw with your hands, causing him to sigh into the kiss. He was hesitant at first but soon followed your lead, eagerly kissing back more passionately than before. His hands wandered up to your waist, holding you in place. He panted when you pulled away, grabbing his wrist and pulling him to his bed.

“Are-are you sure?” He asked, his eyes filled with lust. You simply nodded and giggled, sitting him down on his bed and straddling his lap, causing him to let out a small groan. His hands pulled your waist in closer to him, his tongue gently slipping between your lips. You pulled away from the kiss to take off your shirt, exposing your naked breasts, having not worn a bra after being home all day. You could have sworn you saw him drool a bit when he saw your tits. His hands instinctively moved up and cupped your tits, massaging your nipples sensually, he was so focused. You slowly grinded against his already hard cock, eliciting a moan from him. You were surprised when he grabbed your hips and started moving your body against him, causing both of you to moan. He kissed you desperately, sloppy but in the best way possible. He was panting and whining like he had been in heat for months. His toned arms sped up their pace, rocking your hips back and forth on his clothed dick. He took off his shirt, exposing his slim but muscled chest and abs. You hadn’t noticed his happy trail before, but it was so sexy. Your thumbs pulled at his sweatpants, encouraging him to take them off, which he did rather fastly. You also slid down your tiny lounge shorts, along with your soaked panties, causing him to stare with hunger in his eyes. You giggled as you moved his hand toward your pussy, his fingers experimentally rubbing your clit. He whined at the feeling of your wetness on his fingers. You straddled him again, dampening his briefs as you grinded on his clothed cock. He whined, moving his hips into yours.

“Lemme get something, babe,” you whispered in his ear as you got off him, his face confused as you went to your room to get a condom. He pulled down his briefs, exposing his stiff cock leaking with precum. You resumed kissing him and gave him the condom for him to roll down his naked cock, groaning at the bare sensation on it. He lined it up against your folds, moving it up and down and teasing your clit. He was a mess by this point. You sank down on him finally, causing both of you to moan. He hissed in pleasure as you went up and down on his dick, squeezing him. You felt amazing, both to him and to yourself. He held your ass and thrust into you, the sound of skin slapping and whining filled the air. He brought a thumb down to circle your clit, his cock twitching at each moan you made. His eyes were starry, starting to roll back in pleasure as the pace speeded up, vulgar words coming from him which surprised you but made you squeeze around him even tighter.

“Ah fuck baby,” he whined into your neck as you were above him, his strong thighs thrusting into you. “Gonna-gonna cum soon babe,” he moaned loudly, his hips got fast and his thrusts deeper before he filled the condom with his warm essence, his thrusts coming to a stop and tired moans escaping his lips as he kissed you.

“Let’s just stay like this for a bit,” he whispered before kissing your neck, his softening cock still inside you.

“Maybe you can help me again sometime?” He softly chuckled, stroking your back with his thumb, humming as he pressed a kiss to your jaw.

End<3

This was inspired by JaeAsmr’s roommate audio 😭 omg I realized I didn’t really follow the ask tho so sorry!

#enha smut #enhypen smut #enhypen hard thoughts #jungwon smut #jungwon #enhypen imagines

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your-honor-im-zesty · 1 month

Text

April Fools' Prank

"It was all her idea! Honest, Chiron!"

Annabeth arched her eyebrows as the centaur turned towards her, frowning. She schooled her face into an expression of bemusement and annoyance. "I have no idea what he's talking about," she lied, her heart hammering against her chest. Keep calm, keep calm, keep calm...

Behind Chiron, Cecil Markowitz looked enraged. "Liar!" he cried. Oh, he was one to talk, the little shit. He probably ate lies for breakfast.

Chiron sighed and thumbed his temples- that seemed to be becoming a regular occurrence as of late. Poor Chiron. She felt a hint of remorse. He was getting far too old for this. "Annabeth," he said wearily. "You may leave."

"What?" Cecil's voice went up an octave- Annabeth internally grinned. "Yes, sir," she replied, and as the centaur turned around, she flashed a wink at Cecil, who looked downright outraged. Oh, the look on his face- she wished she had a camera to capture the moment and laugh about it later.

As she left the room, she could hear him protesting, "That's not fair! You can't seriously be letting her off scott-free!"

She heard Chiron respond something along the lines of "she's our most responsible camper" which made her snort. "Responsible camper". The hell she was. She was just as impulsive and reckless as the next person- she just hid it better, while everyone else went around waving it in Chiron's face.

Outside the Big House, the weather reflected Annabeth's mood- sunny and pleasant. It was the first day this week without a storm- Zeus must've calmed down at last. She had hardly walked a few feet down the stairs when a voice hissed, "Psst! Chase!"

Almost instinctively, her hand siezed the dagger strapped to her side- she raised it, wielding it just the way Luke had taught her. Fingers wrapped around the hilt, strong; angled a little to the side, to allow flexibility. She scrutinized her surroundings, but there was no one else around.

"Chill out, girl! It's just me!"

Connor Stoll popped up from a nearby bush, nearly scaring the living daylights out of her. "Immortales," she hissed, jumping a little. She lowered her dagger warily. What on Earth was he doing, hiding in a bush?

Connor appeared perfectly unabashed by her surprise; he'd always had a talent for sneaking up behind people for his own amusement. Annabeth could name at least four different occasions off the top of her head. "How'd it go? Did he catch you?" he asked, in a voice too loud for her comfort.

Scowling, she beckoned him closer. "Keep it down." She glanced around for any potential eavesdroppers, then leaned in. "No. But your brother's a snitch."

Connor cursed in a colorful mixture of English and Ancient Greek. Travis had taught him all the swear words in existence, growing up. "He swore he wouldn't tell!"

"He got cold feet once Chiron mentioned the possibility of stable duty." Which was understandable, she supposed. But still.

Connor wrinkled his nose- if there was one thing he hated, Annabeth knew, it was betrayals, however small or big. Ironic for the son of the god of thieves. "I'll talk to him," he promised. "Everyone in the Hermes cabin knows to say mum about our deal."

Annabeth was pretty sure that wasn't the case, given that half the Hermes cabin was filled with big mouths and gossips (not nearly as bad as the Demeter kids, though) but instead of voicing her opinion, she held out her hand expectantly. "Speaking of our deal- you need to hold up your end of the bargain."

Connor obliged, hand fishing in his pockets. It resurfaced with a few golden coins- drachmas. He placed them in her palm. "Good working with you, Chase." His next words held a hint of apprehension. "We'll keep this up next year?"

"Of course," she said, surprised. They'd been doing this for years- using Annabeth's intellect to execute an annual April Fools' prank, in return for a couple drachmas, give or take. It was a custom now, tradition. She felt a sudden rush of affection for Connor. "College couldn't ever stop Camp Half-Blood's legendary April Fools' pranks."

Connor grinned, looking relieved. "You're the boss," he said, saluting her. He skipped off happily, probably to inflict another April Fools' horror on some poor camper.

Annabeth slipped her drachmas in her pocket and strolled away too, her mind already brewing ideas for next year. Perhaps she and Connor would team up against Cecil as a way of revenge.

#percy jackson #pjo #pjo fandom #annabeth chase #connor stoll #cecil markowitz #chiron #april fools prank fic #based on my hc that annabeth would secretly collaborate with the stolls annually for april fools #this is horrible ik #im bored so i wrote this #2 weeks late to the party but i think it's still acceptable??#annabeth chase fic #annabeth chase centric fic #annabeth is the best liar you will ever meet

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yallemagne · 1 year

Text

Once more have I seen the Count go out in his lizard fashion.

Ben Galpin truly captures the defeat Jonathan's feeling here. When you've seen something so incomprehensibly unsettling that the life is drained from you, and you can only think "okay, but what the fuck am I supposed to do with this? Oh? Is this normal? Is this normal? Can I ever financially recover from this?" It's a funny line for how bizarre it is, but it's hard to laugh when you hear Jonathan so dispirited.

Just, mwah. But, in contrast, Jonathan doesn't give up. He takes the opportunity that is presented by Dracula being away and tries all those damn doors again.

And then... he comes to the Room...

Dracula... warned him not to go into the locked rooms... but this room isn't locked. The door is stuck in such a way it would only open if Jonathan put his back into opening it. Now, one could say Dracula simply wasn't diligent enough in locking all the rooms that were off limits... or he anticipated, in some way, Jonathan finding this room by himself. He anticipated that Jonathan would put in the effort to open this one unlocked door. Either way, technically, Jonathan is breaking no rules, but technically, Dracula could still get away with this incompetence if someone were to try to hold him to it. Which, no one can or will.

Then, there is the latter half of Dracula's rules... he told Jonathan he may not sleep anywhere but his own room and the rooms they have both occupied. It, too, feels like a trap: reverse psychology. Jonathan is already weary to be where he knows Dracula goes, especially asleep. And then, Dracula, under the guise of caring for Jonathan's wellbeing, tells him he will only be safe in the rooms that he himself has occupied? Of course, it feels like leaving himself out as bait for the Count.

My lamp seemed to be of little effect in the brilliant moonlight, but I was glad to have it with me, for there was a dread loneliness in the place which chilled my heart and made my nerves tremble. Still, it was better than living alone in the rooms which I had come to hate from the presence of the Count, and after trying a little to school my nerves, I found a soft quietude come over me.

This is the first time that Jonathan is really harsh about the Count. He hates him. He hates his presence, and he hates how it lingers after his absence. But once he can put away his hate, he finds peace:

Here I am, sitting at a little oak table where in old times possibly some fair lady sat to pen, with much thought and many blushes, her ill-spelt love-letter, and writing in my diary in shorthand all that has happened since I closed it last.

He calms himself by imagining himself as a lady writing a love letter. Anxious - pen shaking and fumbling with some of the spellings - but not fearful. Not scared. Not in danger. He then remarks on the decor. Apparently, it is modern.

It is nineteenth century up-to-date with a vengeance. And yet, unless my senses deceive me, the old centuries had, and have, powers of their own which mere "modernity" cannot kill.

Even with the redecoration, Jonathan can sense the difference between what Dracula would call a new house vs an old one. This room has been done up to fit better with the current era, but nothing could strip away the history lying dormant underneath. Nothing can kill the spirits who linger. No place old enough to have a history is safe, not even London, which prides itself on its cutting-edge technology and its abandonment of the old and backward.

EDIT: okay so maybe I'm wrong about the decor being up-to-date. What if shhhh just enjoy the post.

#dracula #dracula daily #re: dracula #jonathan harker #may 15

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thelukesalvez · 1 year

Text

Luke Alvez x Reader: Snow Day

Description: After a one night stand with Luke, you find yourself snowed in at his house.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: very mild smut

A/N: Another repost!!

When you first wake up, the first thing you notice is the heavy arm that is draped across your stomach. You turn your head lightly, wincing at the light stinging your eyes, to find a man sleeping on his stomach beside you. His mouth is slightly parted and you can hear each, deep breath as it leaves his lips. His bare, muscled back is only partly covered by the blanket you had likely been hogging.

It would be endearing if you weren’t so hungover- or if you had known his last name.

You sit up, careful to gently remove the man’s arm from around your torso, so as not to wake him, and glance around the bedroom you were in. It was neat- way neater than your own. The bedding beneath you was a deep burgundy color, you run the palms of your hands along the soft fabric, collecting it your fist. The feel of it brought memories back from the night before-

You remember the noise of the music. It was loud pop, with a bass beat that shook your entire body. And you remember the chill that ran up your spine when you heard the deep drawl of a man’s voice as he greeted you with a polite hello. He had introduced himself as Luke- and you had been fixated on the way the tip of his tongue pressed up against his two front teeth as he spoke. You remembered being worried he’d notice the way you stared at him- almost as if you couldn’t look away.

There was a subtle, but ever so present twinkle of light that sparkled in his warm brown eyes when he smirked at you. He had a crooked smile that had you hooked before you could even realize what was happening.

You were barely even buzzed by then, and you were already completely enthralled by Luke. How could you not be?

It didn’t take long for things to fall into place- the two of you completely lost in your own little world. You’d found a booth in the back of the building. The smile on your lips stayed, as long as Luke was talking. Luke’s brown eyes never left yours, not once. Knees knocked underneath the table, the extra contact sending electric shocks through your body. You try not to shudder when you feel a soft, but firm hand rest lightly on your thigh. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his perfectly plush lips- and the way they moved as he spoke.

Luke buys you more rounds, the two of you growing closer the drunker you got- until you found yourself completely crowding Luke’s space. His hand had found the side of your waist, his fingers had dug into the soft flesh poking out of your jeans.

“Wanna come back to my place?” he had asked.

You didn’t even let the question fully sink into your brain before you had nodded yes. You loved the smile that your response brought to Luke’s lips. Your heart was in overdrive, beating rapidly out of your chest, when Luke laced your fingers together.

Your cheeks had been practically burning by the time you got outside, the cool, night air offered a nice relief. You had been nervous- you didn’t do things like this. One night stands were completely out of character for you. You knew how reckless you were being- but between the alcohol limiting your intuition and the way Luke squeezed your hand reassuringly, you couldn’t help but feel safe.

You remember your fingers being loosely entangled in Luke’s curls the minute you got back to his house. Your heart felt like it was being set ablaze when Luke looked into your eyes closely, his mouth capturing yours in soft, sweet kisses. You remembered your bodies moving, collapsing back onto his bed- clothes being torn off and thrown throughout the room. You remember tangled limbs and soft moans echoing throughout the room, the soft sheets clutched tightly in your hand as you joined as one …

You rub your eyes harshly, pulling yourself away from the memories, before scooting to the edge of the bed.

When your feet hit the hardwood floor beneath you, you shiver. Upon standing up, you realize that you’re naked, aside from your panties. Lovely, you thought. You rub your eyes in an attempt for them to adjust to the light, and silently tiptoe around the room, hastily gathering up the remnants of your clothes strewn across the floor.

You peer over at Luke’s sleeping frame again- you touch your lip lightly, hoping the taste of him might still be lingering. You shake the thought away and force yourself to tear your eyes away from Luke.

You fumble down the hall, appreciative of the fact that the small apartment prevented you from getting lost, since you had a very vague recollection of arriving here in the first place. When you get to the living room, you start hastily pulling on your clothes from the night before.

“Shit,” you mutter as you pull your sweater down over your chest, noticing the giant stain covering the entire front of it. You only vaguely remember spilling the entire contents of your vodka lemonade over yourself.

You shake your head, cursing yourself for being such a clumsy drunk. You make a mental note to bring a jacket the next time that you went out. However, judging by the searing pain in your head and the horrible hangover that lingered- you doubted that would be anytime soon.

As you made your way towards the front door, you pull your phone out of your purse, quickly opening the map app on your phone. You wondered just how far you had ended up from your apartment. The GPS says it’s a thirty seven minute walk home. You groan. It was doable- but certainly undesirable, given your current state.

You cringe at the thought of how many strangers would see you amidst your walk of shame from here to home, but realize you had to suck it up. With a groan, you unlatch the lock and open the front door.

You’re immediately taken aback by the wall of cold air that hits you. You turn your head to the side in an attempt to escape the gust of wind that sweeps forward, causing something freezing and wet to sprinkle along the side of your face. When the wind stops, you’re able to look outside at the heaping pile of snow blocking you in.

Your eyes widen and your face drops at the sight of it. There must be two feet of snow piled up in the driveway- preventing you from leaving.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you mutter under your breath, looking down at your outfit- of which was not equipped for trudging through the snow. You’d die of hypothermia before even making it out of the driveway. The sight of it sends a feeling of dread through your entire body.

Just then, a voice behind you startles you.

“Sneaking out, huh?”

You turn around sharply to find Luke standing in the doorframe of the hallway. He had thrown on baggy sweatpants and a worn, gray sweatshirt. His sleepy eyes still sparkle as he gives you a smirk.

You stand, speechless, realizing how bad this looks. After a moment, you sigh. “That was the plan- yeah,” you admit. You take one last look at the blizzard outside before shutting the front door in defeat. “But I think Mother Nature had other plans.”

He chuckles lightly before walking into the adjoined kitchen. You take a step inside the house, feeling awkward and out of place. You watch as the man retrieves two mugs from a tall cabinet and places them on the countertop.

“Coffee?” he asks, nonchalantly, holding the cup up as an offering.

You sigh a breath of relief at the thought of coffee- your one true love during a hangover. “Yes. Please.”

Luke rummages around the kitchen for a few minutes, putting the coffee on before peering into the fridge. He pulls some items out, placing them gently on the counter behind him. His back is turned towards you and you can’t help but watch him as he moves. It’s a nice view, you think.

“Do you like eggs?” Luke’s words interrupt your staring. “I have some sausage links, too.”

“You’re making breakfast?” You ask, your tone sounding sharper than intended through your disbelief. You were fairly inexperienced in the realm of one night stands, but you were pretty confident breakfast wasn’t usually involved.

Luke nods, “Unless you’re not hungry,” he retreats, backtracking quickly. “I don’t always eat breakfast either, most days I’m not hungry. I just thought-”

You can sense the panic in his voice, almost as if he’s as nervous as you. You quickly speak up to reassure him. “No- I love breakfast. I just wasn’t expecting any, is all.”

Luke sighs a breath of relief. “Scrambled okay?” he asks, motioning towards the eggs.

You nod and set your purse down on the floor near the door before making your way closer to Luke in the kitchen. “Scrambled is perfect,” you tell him. You pull out the seat positioned at the island in the middle of his kitchen and sit down.

Luke continues to work with his back to you, his arms moving a bit as he scrambles the eggs that are cooking in the pan.

After a few minutes of silence, you clear your throat awkwardly.

“I’ll text my friend to come get me,” you tell him. “She lives not far from here-”

Luke turns, his face contorting in confusion. “What? In this?” he points the spatula towards the window- motioning towards the blizzard raging outside. Luke shakes his head. “No way. She shouldn’t drive in this.”

Luke holds the pan in his hand over a plate and dumps the contents on top. A steaming pile of eggs join a piece of toasted bread and sausage before Luke pushes the plate across the island in front of you.

“Just stay here.”

“I don’t want to intrude-” you admit, cringing at the thought of over-extending your stay.

But Luke’s shaking his head before you can even finish your sentence.

“You’re not,” he assures you. “Besides,” he remarks as he makes his own plate. “You’re not dressed to go out in this.” He nods his head towards your stained sweater, a grin on his face.

You look down embarrassed at your appearance.

“Yeah, I guess I got a little carried away last night…”

Luke chuckles before gripping the hem of his sweatshirt. He pulls the material over his head, shedding the layer in one, swift motion.

You can’t help but gawk at the sight of Luke, shirtless in front of you. His dark chest gleaming under the kitchen light, every detail of his sculpted stomach illuminated before you. His sweatpants hang low on his hips, a defined ‘V’ traveling towards his lower abdomen. Clearly Luke’s fit form was something you had missed in your drunken haze last night.

Luke chuckles as he catches you staring, your fork stopped in midair with a heaping pile of eggs falling off of it and back into your plate.

“You know it’s not polite to stare…” Luke teases.

Your face reddens immediately and you feel your entire body grow hot with embarrassment. You try to retaliate- to think of something clever to shoot back at him. But all you can do is mutter a quiet, “Shut up,” before you go back to eating your eggs.

Luke travels to your side of the island and hands you his sweatshirt. “Here,” he says, smiling still. “So you don’t have to spend the day covered in alcohol.”

You take the sweatshirt from his grasp, “And here I was thinking you were just stripping for the fun of it,” you say cheekily.

Luke flashes his teeth in a wide grin and laughs. “In your dreams.”

“Thank you,” you tell him. Your hands travel down to the base of your shirt. You’re about to peel off your sweater when you catch Luke’s eyes hovering on you. You immediately release your shirt from your grasp. “Turn around,” you instruct him.

Luke’s jaw drops. “You’re kidding, right?” he asks. “I’ve seen you naked, remember?” He says, the pitch of his voice rises slightly.

You continue to stare at him, shaking your head slightly, indicating that you most certainly were not kidding and that you didn’t care.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “You are something else,” he mutters, but he turns around anyway, turning to face the cabinets like he was placed in a time out.

You quickly shed your sweater, discarding it to the floor, before pulling Luke’s sweatshirt over your head.

It fits largely on you, engulfing you in its soft, worn fabric. Luke’s sweet scent suddenly washes over you, ensnaring your senses. You inhale the sweet and comforting smell for a moment, trying to trap it in your memory forever.

“You can look,” you instruct him when you’re covered.

Luke turns around, still shaking his head in disbelief.

The two of you finish breakfast, your conversation never faltering. Luke’s kind of beautiful, you find yourself realizing. Not that you hadn’t noticed how attractive Luke was before- of course you had. But Luke smiles this giant smile as he talks to you about the last time he remembers it snowing this much in D.C.- and it’s all big and wide and brighter now that he’s not under all those neon lights at the bar.

You suppose you could blame your fluttering stomach on the vodka still coursing through your system. Your skin felt electrified. But you know that the alcohol has nothing to do with it. You know it could only be Luke that was making you feel this way- in a way that you hadn’t felt in a long time. And you’ve only known the man for the lesser part of twelve hours now, but you can’t deny the feelings you already felt for him.

It felt easy with Luke, you quickly realized. You didn’t have to think or pretend, you didn’t have to worry. That’s what you supposed you liked the most so far. There was no room for being self conscious, or worrying if Luke feels the same about you. All you can focus on is the way his lips move when he smiles and how his eyes crinkle when he breaks into a fit of laughter.

You find yourself curled up in the living room shortly after breakfast, back pressed against the arm of the couch. You’re facing Luke, who’s found a new shirt, since giving his other one away to you. You tuck your feet underneath the flesh of his thigh, causing him to hiss.

“Your feet are freezing,” he gasps, but he doesn’t pull away.

You laugh in response, digging them further underneath his legs.

“I can feel them through my pants,” he says, laughing with you.

You talk about any and everything underneath the sun that day- and you quickly start to feel like you’ve known Luke all your life, not just a day.

You get to know one another further through sips of coffee. Your cup grows cold and you realize you’ve done more talking than drinking. You don’t remember a time where you’ve laughed as much as today- you haven’t smiled this much or felt this good in so long.

It felt too good to be true, but you don’t allow yourself to question anything.

Luke finds a movie on the television that evening when the sky outside is dark. The snow had finally subsided and the sound of plows clearing the streets could be heard every so often. Luke grabs a blanket and drapes it over the two of you as he sits noticeably closer to you on the couch. Luke says it’s one of his favorites, but the truth is, you can’t pay attention to a single thing that happens once he grabs a hold of your hand.

His fingers lace with yours, the warmth from his palm radiating to your skin. You lose even more focus when you finally gather up enough courage to lean into his side, resting your head against his shoulder.

You hold Luke’s hand with both of yours in your lap and study it with intent. You let your fingers trail across his skin, before coming across a large, white scar stretching from the base of his thumb all the way to his palm.

You ask about it, tracing along the mark.

“It was a knife- a guy cut me with a knife,” he says. Luke stretches out his hand as he recalls the story. “Eight stitches.”

“On the job?” You had asked. Luke had told you about his work as an FBI agent. It had piqued your interest, but now, staring down at the scar- you acknowledged how dangerous it probably was.

Luke nods.

You’re not sure when you drift off, but as soon as Luke had wrapped his strong arm around your shoulders, pulling you tighter into his side, you knew you didn’t stand a chance. You didn’t fight your heavy eyes and instead closed them, succumbing to a deep sleep.

When you stir awake, the credits for the movie on the screen are playing. Luke’s shifts slightly, trying not to disturb you. But you sit up, groggily rubbing your eyes.

Luke offers to let you sleep in his bed, while he takes the couch, but you shake your head. You didn’t want to intrude. You’re just a guest, and you’d feel weird sleeping in Luke’s bed while he wasn’t in it.

“Are you sure?” he asks, trying to gauge your face for your true feelings.

You nod, letting out a sleepy yawn.

Fifteen minutes pass before you and Luke lay down next to one another in Luke’s bed. You waste no time before curling into his side again, wrapping your arms around his bicep and using his chest as your own personal pillow.

It makes you smile a bit at how natural being around Luke felt.

You fall asleep against him with ease, a faint smile lingering on your lips.

You leave Luke’s house the next morning, a sinking feeling settling in your bones and weighing heavy on your heart. You try not to show Luke how disappointed you are to leave.

It almost feels like an end, and you start to worry that you’ll never see him again. Isn’t that how hookups usually went?

Luke’s eyes have endless depths of brown in them. They’re warmer than you remember as you stand in front of him. You’ve got your shoes on and your purse clutched in your hand, ready to go. You’re wearing Luke’s sweatshirt- the one he insists on letting you keep because it ‘looks better on you than it ever will on him’.

“I had a really nice time,” Luke tells you. He leans into you, so that you’re almost touching.

“Mhm,” you hum in affirmation. You lose all train of thought when Luke was this close to you. You’re surprised you’re still breathing, honestly.

“I’m going to kiss you now, okay?” Luke mumbles lowly, bending down so that he’s only inches from you.

You nod harshly, like the lovestruck idiot you were, before Luke surges forward, pressing his lips against yours.

He hums at the back of his throat, like a breath of relief once your lips meet. His lips are soft and gentle as they move against your own, his fingers finding a place at your hips. It feels so natural, so effortless. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

You let your hands rest against Luke’s strong, hardened chest, before letting them wander up and across his shoulders, locking your fingers in place at the base of his neck. Luke breathes in sharper as you let your fingers fumble through his tight curls. He pulls you closer, holds you tighter.

You kiss for, God-only-knows how long, until Luke finally pulls away and rests his forehead against your own.

“I’ll take you out on a real date next time, okay?” he promises, touching his finger lightly to your lips.

You nod, finding yourself already counting down the days until when that will be.

And then Luke’s opening the front door for you, and you’re walking yourself outside, just like you’ve been dreading all morning.

You take one last glance at Luke’s soft smile, taking notice of the uncontrollable flutter in your stomach and let out a content sigh.

For the rest of the day, you think of nothing but caramel eyes, tight curls, and soft lips- and you really can’t think of anything else better. You keep yourself wrapped up tightly in his sweatshirt, every so often, letting yourself inhale the scent of it- the scent of him. There was no one else like Luke in your mind, now that you’d had a taste of him. There was no turning back now.

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