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planetdream · 7 months

Text

STRANGE DREAMS !

CHARACTERS ! incubus/demon!hyunjin, reader

GENRE ! horror, smut [minors dni]

WORDS ! 7.8k [more or less]

SYNOPSIS ! sometimes, you meet a strange man in your dreams. this is one of those times.

THIS FIC CONTAINS ! edible-fueled writing. horror [gore—body horror: descriptions of blood and mutilated bodies. frightening figures and situations. description of drowning. nightmares and sleep paralysis. demons, and thus], references to biblical lore [christianity] and small references to milton's paradise lost [if you squint], and smut [dubcon—sexual manipulation and sex pollen, sorta. d/s dynamics—predator versus prey. possession/corruption. vaginal and anal sex. pussy and face slapping. teasing. fingering. spit. squirting. face fucking. degradation. strength kink sorta. sex with a demon—in demon form. monster cock. lots of cum]

⚠️ if you’re sensitive to gore, be advised before reading. i tried to be tame and brief with descriptions, and although i consider it to be light gore, i understand everyone has their limits. so proceed with caution.

💌 posting this earlier than originally planned cuz why not!! got the idea for this fic a year ago after an edible. it’s very weird n self indulgent but i’m glad i finally finished it !! i hope someone enjoys it <3 i always appreciate feedback !!

You’re certain that it’s the sky you’re gazing into—though, you’re unsure because your vision is unclear, a milky haze clouding your pupils—but the longer you look at it, the more it spins and distorts, bringing on nausea that rises in waves from the pit of your stomach to the top of your head. The nausea brings on a discomfort; dryness in your mouth and a straining in your eyes, and because of that, you’re left with no choice but to close your eyes and let your other senses take over. Darkness surrounds you, and it feels like you have risen into the sky, despite grass being beneath you, and it’s soft, comfortable; almost like you could sink deeper into it before reaching the hard, frigid dirt. You grab the blades of grass with a tight fist, tugging on it, but still unwilling to pull it out as if you would cause harm. Then, the grass all around you becomes apparent—alive—moving against your skin in a response back to you. It tickles all over, building the realization that you lay naked in the grass, though unwilling to get up or cover yourself; lost within the pure contentment of the situation.

There is a wave that sways over you—hot, heavy, and harsh, yet not too overbearing in its nature. You don’t know why, but there’s a sense of familiarity about when you are. It’s as if you’ve been here before, a distant memory that both chills and warms you.

Along with the burbling sound of water pouring into itself, the smell of water whisks in the cool breeze—slightly sweet, green and alluring; whistling your name, calling out for you to come over. The whispering is intriguing, full of temptation but slightly melancholic; no words need be said, yet you understand the language of the waters. The whispers are loud, blaring; not in the sense of volume, but by how jarring it is—unlike anything you’ve heard and yet, it’s something you feel so acquainted with, like a long-time friend. The water cries, begging for you to bathe within it or drink from it and promises a sweet taste that could be comparable to honey and lemons.

When you open your eyes again, everything is clear. The plants around you are breathing, communicating through the whistles of the wind; and just like the water, the plants cry out as well. Though, the cries of the flowers and trees are far different from the cries of the water. The cries of the water nearby sing a great harmony of promise and belief, whereas, the cries of the many trees screech of terror and agitation. They warn of what horrors can be witnessed here, of what great dangers are lurking within them. A sweet song of catastrophe. The flowers, however,—with captivating colors unlike anything you’ve ever seen, yet familiar; like the names of them are on the tip of your tongue, begging to be acknowledged and praised—cry differently. It’s a murmur most comparable to the feeling of silk against your hands, but also the feeling of goosebumps after a close encounter with something you shouldn’t have crossed paths with. A comfortable discomfort.

You look around, fully taking in the picture of what presents itself around you. There are butterflies varying in size and species—they sing as well, something similar to a war cry; morbid and haunting, though still beautiful and in great faith. Dragonflies buzz around, securing their place and status within the area. So much life here—at peace in this paradise. There’s some kind of haze or mist in the air, silent and still, tranquil. The sun is bright, blazing hot and practically piercing, yet despite the warmth, the air is slightly cool. The sight of your surroundings further cements your previous feelings of familiarity. Yet it also uncovers sheer discomfort. Yes, the area is familiar, but there’s something unsettling and distinctly different about it. A discomfort layering in the air, horribly beautiful and homely, but pandemonium is lurking, lurched and hidden within the shadows of this seeming paradise.

You roll over in the grass—laying on your stomach and lifting your head to see beyond what you could before. Not too far from your current position is a waterfall, continuing its whispers. The spring below is surrounded by unusual pink flowers and huge rocks covered in thick, green and yellow moss. Before you can process it, you’re on your feet and moving towards the spring. Once there, you kneel, gazing at your reflection in the waters. It’s almost too much to process but it’s you. It is you and yet it’s like the face you wear does not belong to you. Uncanny and off putting.

Movement. On your left, deep in the periphery of the spring. Your eyes shift, tracking whatever chooses to present itself. A swan. Elegant and pristine. It cranes its neck, beak pointing towards you in acknowledgment. You make full eye contact, and a chill runs up your spine causing your hair to stand on edge. An inflamed feeling of danger sparks within you, and before you have time to fight or run as far away as possible—“There you are!”

The voice comes from your right, but when you look in that direction, there’s nothing there. “So this is where you ran off to.”

The physical energy of the presence behind you is familiar, but strikingly overwhelming—it crawls up your skin like sharp nails, giving you goosebumps—you don’t need to turn around to recognize it. It’s Him. You’re unsure of what he is, exactly, but sometimes you meet him in your dreams. Though deep down you know that his existence and connection to you reaches well beyond the odd worlds of your dream realm. When he touches you, your surroundings change. The waterfall that you were once at is yards away, tiny in perspective. Despite having not moved an inch, it seems that every time you blink, you’re further and further into the woods; trees surrounding you and most certain to bury any noises emitted within their leaves.

The rustling of the tree leaves sounds like a screech, almost like sharp nails against a chalkboard—sinking deep and clashing, scraping out the porcelain enamel. The sound alone affects your brain, echoing in your mind, blaring enough to make you hold your hand against your head. The sound stops once he presses his hand against your cheek—so cold it feels like burning fire, almost scalding enough to melt off your skin; but you do not flinch, nor do you back away, frozen in place. The feeling of his skin against yours evokes an emotional aching so deep, you can feel it festering in the pit of your stomach, spreading to your organs and seeping into your veins—and somehow there is comfort in that.

He’s speaking, and while you’re unable to make out the words he is saying, you can tell that his voice is soft, pillowy like a cloud. Honey-laced words dipping from his tongue as if he’s trying to convince or ask something of you. You avert your gaze, unsure of if you actually want to meet his eyes.

His presence scares you just as much as it calms you. Intriguing, and homely but also frightening and domineering despite simply just standing there. Something about his demeanor feels off, or distorted, at the very least, as if he’s not actually in front of you. As if he was a result of your imagination instead of directly in your eyes view. He’s real, a hand against your skin, almost close enough for you to feel his breath lightly against your skin; and at the very least, he knows you. You know him, too, you think; of course, you’ve seen him in your dreams, but you’re inclined to believe you know him from somewhere else.

“Where are we?” You ask him, avoiding eye contact, shaking away from the contact his hand makes with you. Jarringly, it doesn’t feel like you said anything at all. Your mouth was moving and the words presented themselves in your mind and yet you can’t hear a single thing you’re saying. The familiar fire within your throat when you speak is no longer there.

“The Garden. It’s perfect here, isn’t it?” He gives you a small smile, seemingly understanding your indistinct confusion. Then, as he speaks up again, his voice drips with something resembling woe. “You and I used to live here a long time ago. I visit every so often, dip my legs into that spring back there, and then I reminisce on how pure life was back then before…”

You think he’s talking again, but once again, you’re unable to hear him. You’re too busy lost in his face. The urge to press your lips against his gets stronger as you’re next to him. Then you realize he’s naked as well, and your entire body gets warmer. There’s a budding ache inside you that’s all too familiar, growing at a rapid pace. It’s almost like your body is on fire as a result of being within his presence. Hormones floating, hair standing on edge, your more sensual and raw instincts ready to unveil and latch onto him at any time. Head hurting the longer you’re in his presence until it all just stops.

Everything stops. The trees are no longer rustling, birds no longer humming. There’s no splashing of the waterfall nor whistling in the wind. Just pure silence. The silence is uncomfortable, and causes you to stand still in your tracks like a deer, scared that if you make any sudden moves a predator might attack within the blink of an eye; jumping on you and tearing you apart in a bloody mess of flesh and organs flying everywhere, painting the fallen deep green leaves a perfect contrast of crimson.

“Run,” He says. There’s nothing in his voice; no emotion nor a slight hint at what he’s thinking. But the word echoes in your mind, and sends a chill down your spine, causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand on edge in either curiosity or total blood curdling fear.

“What do you mean?”

“You need to run,” His voice drops lower. “And don’t get caught.”

So you turn your heels and you run, not willing to ask him twice. Unsure of the direction you’re going in, but the further you seem to travel, the more that discomfort begins to settle in the pit of your stomach. You pick up the pace—one foot in front of the other, careful not to trip over yourself—but a small part of you isn’t sure if the danger that you’re sensing is real or just a part of a sick and twisted game. Instead of running away from the source of your terror, it seems as though you’re running towards it, no matter the direction you run. Twigs and leaves snapping and crunching beneath your feet, but it causes you no pain. In fact, the only thing you can feel in the moment is the thumping of your heart and every single milliliter of blood marching through your vessels.

You admittedly don’t make it too far before you’re cowering, ducking against a large tree. Heart racing with such speed that you’re almost positive it would break free of your ribcage, piercing its way out of your chest. The tree, however, as quickly as you found it, is no longer a place of solace, as you hear a long, loud, and deep growl to your left. The deep guttural sound echoing, slicing through the trees like machetes. You’ve got to move, but you fear that if you do, whatever it is that made that sound, might attack, ripping you to shreds before you’ve even got a chance to exhale. There’s a roar once again, this time uncomfortably closer to your hiding place. You stand still, and the surrounding area of the forest is suddenly extremely silent. No rustle of leaves or echoes of birds, but a loud silence accompanied by a buzzing noise; like a horde of flies marching their way towards you.

“Hyunjin,” You call out. The name slips from your mouth with ease, as if you’ve been calling him by that name all along. In the blink of an eye, just as you exhale his name, your surroundings change; suddenly submerged in water.

You emerge from the cold water, barely having time to register your surroundings before you’re being forced back into the water; claw-like hands scraping into your scalp, sharp and heavy against your skull. It’s hard to make your way above the water because of the forceful weight and before you know it, attempting to hold your breath is useless due to the water infiltrating your lungs. You’re flailing and thrashing around, arms lifting—hands curling into a claws, attempting to grab onto something, only to slash through the water—and legs kicking mindlessly, trying to escape what is uncertain; heart rate accelerating as panic fully sets in. This seems to go on for nearly fifteen minutes, being edged by death over and over; blacking out then awakening time and time again. Vision blocked by the salty darkness of the water, ensuring to agitate you with fright, unsure of when it’s all going to end.

Abruptly, you’re dragged upwards by your hair, back falling harshly against rock, helping you cough up the water in your throat. It feels like it takes minutes for you to learn how to breathe again, attempting to do that and calm down enough to assess your surroundings. You’re coughing so much you think you might cough up an intestine, throat burning with each assault, chest sinking and expanding and then sinking again. It takes many moments of coming back to yourself that you notice that there is no rough hand against your scalp. Alarmed, moving around frantically, backing up toward the closest stone wall. Scanning the area, there’s no human nor animal, nor creature of any nature in sight. Not even a single insect. Not even Hyunjin.

You lean over, though not too far in case history repeats itself, to peer into the water; there isn’t even a single fish, as far as you can tell, the waters quickly descending into a vast, black pit of the unknown. Overhead, the sky that was once shining brightly now dimming rather quickly, accompanied by dark, angry clouds. The winds pick up, swirling atop of the trees, emitting a drawn out whistle comparable to wind chimes; of which you can surprisingly hear over splashing and sputtering of the nearby waterfall. Large roars of thunder stomping in, but no lightning accompanies it. You begin to curl into yourself, attempting to shield yourself from whatever is out there, nature or otherwise.

You close your eyes for five simple seconds, and when you open them, Hyunjin is right next to you. He doesn’t notice you’re awake at first until you shift, catching his attention. He turns to you and you avert your eyes from him. He’s talking but it’s all inaudible, unimportant. Something about his presence in this moment is unsettling. Slightly off from the initially odd behavior he’d be exhibiting. You just nod to his words. “Found you like this about an hour ago. You shook so hard until you stopped and fell asleep.”

Hyunjin holds out a hand for you, which you’re hesitant to grab, but the next thing you know, you’re standing slowly; legs shaking as you attempt to regain strength. You hold onto his arm for extra support, slightly struggling in your steps as he leads you, hand in hand, towards a small cave hidden behind the pour of the waterfall. It’s hardly a hike, but Hyunjin makes sure you get to the other size carefully. “The rocks are slippery. You’ve had a few accidents here before.”

A lot of Hyunjin’s words are vague. Referrals to past events involving the two of you, all of which you cannot remember. There’s a feeling that you’ve been here before, but you’re unable to prove it, or make those connections other than your gut feeling and Hyunjin’s comments.

You’re hesitant to walk into the cave, the inside being pitch black. Hyunjin walks in before you, completely fearless, as if there is no potential danger. At the snap of a finger, there’s suddenly a fire going on within the cave. From you place you can see how the fire illuminates Hyunjin’s figure just a bit, and as you walk closer—finding a bit more comfort now that you can see, and because you know Hyunjin is there waiting for you, willing to guide you into and protect you from the unknown—you admire how the flames of the fire accentuates Hyunjin’s facial features. He was made by God, sculpted from the finest clay and molded into an individual with otherworldly beauty. Hyunjin holds a torch-like stick, fire blazing at the tip of it, used as momentary safety. “I know somewhere we can go.”

He then points into the deep darkness of the cave. You don’t want to go deeper into the cave. Right where you stand is just fine, and most importantly, it’s safe. Hyunjin reads the hesitant look that’s displayed on your face, but he urges you. “You’ve got me, there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

And his smile, as beautiful and perfect as it is, seemed crooked, faked for just a moment. He holds out his hand, and without even thinking about it, you take his hand in yours as if you had no choice despite the unease boiling inside of you. His smile curves up again and he turns his head, now guiding you down the cold, dark cave.

The entire time you’re walking, there’s nothing. Hyunjin doesn’t speak and neither do you. The walls on either side all appear the same, dirt colored and oddly smooth, with not even a small crater to make a difference. No matter how long you walk, nor how far, the dark pit continues into nothingness, an upsetting kind of emptiness. Despite Hyunjin being next to you, despite holding his hand, he’s like a stone wall. He makes no effort to speak, nor to even acknowledge you in the slightest despite leading you somewhere, it’s like you’re nothing but a mere bug, nothing to stress about or keep entertained. You feel nothing but loneliness at the pit of your stomach; the only things keeping you company are the thumping of your feet against the ground and the flickering of the flame Hyunjin holds.

It’s a long time of walking before you realize that this cave is actually a tunnel. The tiny white dot of light grows bigger and bigger with every step taken. It feels like forever until you and Hyunjin reach the end of the tunnel. When you do, you’re happy to see light again. The sky now bright and blue, prohibiting any angry clouds of heavy rain. Air fresh and inviting, free of any worry and apprehension. Whatever doubts or dreadful feelings once felt before are now completely an afterthought.

“C’mon let’s go.” Hyunjin discards the torch, dragging you with him by your hand, grip tight against you.

He leads you over to a flower field where flowers ranging in color, size, and species reside. The field is colorful, bright and happy, like a source of glee. Inviting you over by whisper—maybe it’s a honey-filled hum—so sweet and kind. The deeper you walk into the flower field, you notice how enticing the air smells—sweet like a pastry, yet fresh like petrichor. The longer you and Hyunjin walk, hand and hand, the more at ease and loose you feel, almost drunk, mouth welling up with excess saliva. The two of you eventually reach a point to rest, laying on the grass, no words exchanged between you two. Simply just basking in the sun, deeply breathing in the fragrance of the nature that surrounds you.

There’s a passage of time before you start to feel it; an itch that’s tempting you to scratch; a sudden burst in fire. A fire that begins at the pit of your stomach and continues to your core, flaring; spreading further throughout your body in static-like jolts. Your breaths change from relaxed and soft, quiet, to heavy and noticeable; and suddenly the atmosphere feels hotter, small beads of sweat collecting against your forehead. You shift, rubbing your thighs in effort to satiate your sudden cravings, wanting to grind your hips up in search of friction. Growing more desperate and needy by the second.

This is when you look towards Hyunjin, rolling onto your stomach, head resting in your hands as you gaze up at his sitting form; and you actually notice him. You notice his nakedness, every single inch of him on display. He’s like a god, with his honey-like skin that glows and glistens in the sunlight. Toned and defined arm and thigh muscles that flex with nearly every movement he makes. He was meant to be admired, made to be worshiped—having men and women alike kneeling at his feet and imploring him to fuck and defile them. If only you knew how much he agrees. These thoughts almost embarrass you, yet they feel so natural. And your eyes drip lower to admire Hyunjin’s more intimate parts. Cock hanging low, thick, and you’re not too sure if he’s hard or not but he’s big. Mouth watering as you admire his dick: the natural curve to it, how there’s three thick, prominent veins that disperse along his shaft (at least from what you can see at this angle) that are pulsing, just begging for your tongue to roll over them.

You’re pulled away from your fantasy when Hyunjin clears his throat. With an eyebrow raised and a glimmer in his eye, he gives a small smile to you, softly, “You need something from me?”

“Maybe,” You wink at him. You sit up to face him, hand making contact with his knee, fingertips trailing up and down his thigh in a teasing matter. You get a little closer to him, skin against skin, eyes fixated on his cock as your fingertips dance against his inner thigh.

That’s when Hyunjin kisses you, lips soft and plump; and when he presses them against your lips you feel like you're in heaven. At first, your lips barely touch, meeting in small pecks, sweet kisses that eventually deepen into something desperate. The kisses are open mouthed, wet and sloppy, Hyunjin’s tongue makes its way into your mouth naturally, exploring inside of you. The kiss only breaks a few times; when you place your hands flat against Hyunjin’s chest, pushing away slightly just to get air. Each time the kiss breaks, Hyunjin smiles with a small chuckle, licking his lips before leaning in again, forehead pressed to yours.

You break the kiss once more, now focusing more on Hyunjin’s cock. Spitting onto your hand and wrapping it around his shaft, squeezing lightly. Tight fist working up and down Hyunjin’s length, biting your lip when you feel him twitch within your hand. He bites his lip, holding back a moan. Hyunjin stops you before you get too deep into it, instead choosing to take the lead.

Hyunjin plants another kiss to your lips before kissing down your neck, trying his best to take his time to really savor you, but he soon grows impatient. Pushing you down flat against the grass. Quick, wet kisses in several places down your body before he plants one last kiss right above where he really wants to be. There, he wastes no time getting to work, tongue slithering out almost snake-like to lick against your cunt. He really takes in the first taste of his meal, wetness sitting against his tongue, practically melting in his mouth, he moans. He dives in once again, lips and tongue against your cunt, licking and sucking and moaning; fully savoring you.

“Taste so fucking good,” He breathes once to come up for air, not that he actually needs it. Continuing to lap at your cunt, lips kissing and sucking at your clit, moaning into your heat. Hands coming to your thighs to grip, fingernails piercing, spreading you open wider for him.

You grind against his face, hands instinctively going to his hair, fingers tangling within it and pulling with eagerness. Hyunjin groans into you at the slight sting of you pulling at his hair. Tongue not letting up against your clit, following your cunt with every movement you make, not letting you get a break from the feeling of him against you. His mouth domes around your clit, sucking you in, teeth lightly grazing against your bud, momentarily making your back arch. Mid arch, Hyunjin slips two fingers into you. Slight sting as he stretches you out, long digits buried to the knuckles inside of you upon initial thrust.

Soon planting open mouthed kisses against your cunt, fingers working their way in and out of you at an obnoxious pace, curling naturally. Between Hyunjin’s tongue and fingers, in combination with his lips planting kisses against your cunt in between sloppy licks, it’s all too overwhelming. Cunt clenching around his fingers, pulling them in to beg for more, which Hyunjin promptly gives. Fingers fucking into you faster, his other palm pressing down directly against your pelvis.

It’s all too much, but you don’t want it to stop. The feeling of your impending orgasm has you shaking, practically vibrating, unable to brace yourself for it. Tears pooling down the side of your face as you moan out for him. The tips of his fingers repeatedly hit the soft, gushy spot deep inside of you, biting his lip as he watches your face contort. Body stiffening within his hold, unallowed to thrash around, only able to take what he’s giving you. Though unable to completely relax into it, fighting off the feeling of eventual bliss.

Hyunjin lets out a breathy moan at your defiance. Thumb massaging your clit, slowly but surely dragging you further off the edge. Hyunjin finally gets you to relax into his touch, into the feeling of temptation fully engulfing your soul. That’s when it takes over. Your vision blurs, almost going black, mouth agape as you let out cracked moans. Chest getting hot, tightening as you cum, releasing all stress and tension, absolutely melting into this state that makes you feel like you’re floating. Yet your body is only laid out in the grass, legs spread wide for him, as your cunt spills all over his fingers, wetness squirting all over Hyunjin’s forearm and thighs. Tongue desperately trying to lap up whatever he can as his fingers slip away from your cunt. The palm of his hand coming down against your sore cunt once, making you moan out and close your thighs, back arching, pain stinging in the best possible way that leaves you aching for more. Not fully satisfied.

Hyunjin is kneeling over you now, a large hand around his cock. Angry red tip all pretty and glossed with precum that dares to fall onto your skin like delicious raindrops. His cock twitches in his hand, blood rushing, pulsing in the veins that decorate his shaft. It all just makes you think about finally having his cock in you. The burning of the stretch, the feel of him reaching places that haven’t been accessed before, not to mention the feeling of his warm cum filling you up, ounce by ounce.

When Hyunjin pushes into you, you nearly lose your breath, caught in a long inhale. He’s nice enough to push into you slowly, but it’s only because he wants to savor the feeling (though, Hyunjin fully intends to use you however he wants for as long as he pleases). His cock is thick, stretches you beyond anything you’ve experienced before; though instead of being painful, your body is laced, wrapped in pleasure, and the sensation of thrill rushes through your veins. You spread your legs further apart, welcoming more of Hyunijn, hoping that he pushes into you deeper; overcome with desire and want.

“So fucking wet,” Hyunjin pins his cock deeper into you, pulling out quickly, teasingly. “Need more of me?”

You nod frantically, bottom lip slipping away from the clutches of your teeth. When you look up at Hyunjin, his eyes are fixated on your cunt. Tongue peeking out of his mouth, swirling over his bottom lip, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead and into his eyebrow. He’s concentrated, breathing so heavily that he almost begins emitting an inhumane growl, but he dials it back quickly. Instead of pushing all of his length inside of you, Hyunjin pulls out completely, tapping the head of his dick against your cunt, sliding his cock from left to right against your clit. You watch as he does this, listening to the pornographic sound of your wetness, cunt clenching around nothing, just begging to finally be filled.

“Please…” You find yourself begging. Eyebrows strung together as you rock your hips up and down, trying to catch Hyunjin’s cock only for him to move away, preventing you from chasing your pleasure. His hand comes down harsh against your cunt in succession, serving as a warning.

“So cockhungry, can’t you be patient?” Hyunjin continues his tease, repeated light slaps against your cunt with his dick. His cock is replaced by his hand, two fingers dragging down from your clit to your slit, thrusting them into you quickly. Two fingers are replaced by three, and three, by four. He moves quickly, tips of his fingers curled and hitting exactly where you need them. He fucks your moans out of you, reveling in the way that your cries spill out just like the wetness of your cunt, and he’s barely doing anything but fingering you. And you’re this fucked up, melting into his fingers, giving him nearly everything he wants. “Always so pathetic and slutty.”

Agreements slip from your mouth, just in hopes that he’ll give you what you need if you’re good for him. Hyunjin just laughs at you, you’re certainly the cutest plaything he’s had—he knows he’s got to take his time with you. Almost wanting to slip his thumb inside of you as well, Hyunjin decides against it, continuing to fuck you with four of his fingers, still unrelenting in his pace. You, however, are lost for words; taking every ounce of what Hyunjin is giving you. A burning sensation rising in the pit of your stomach, hips rising from the ground, but Hyunjin never stops. Even when you’re leaking all over him, thighs shaking and threatening to close around his arm, he doesn’t stop fucking his fingers into you; not until he’s sure he’s got every ounce from you. Cum dripping down his arm as he takes and takes from you, forcing you to squirt all over him and yourself once again. Sliding his fingers out of you with yet another slap against your cunt.

His hand is around his cock again—wet with your cum, smearing it all over his cock—squeezing at its base as he brings his tip to your entrance. But he teases again, merely slapping his cock against your cunt. You arch into him, grinding your hips against his cock but Hyunjin makes no notice of you and your antics. Eventually getting bored, pulling his cock away from you.

“Kneel,” He speaks curtly, standing. However, you do not move fast enough for his liking. “Don’t make me have to do it for you.”

He does anyway. Grabbing you by the hair, dragging you up and forcing you onto your knees, skin grinding into the grass, sure to have bruises on them. Hyunjin’s hand stays in your hair, tugging as his free hand wraps around his cock. He yanks your head to the side, proceeding to slap his cock against your cheek, precum oozing from the tip.

“Open.” He says, and you promptly follow his instructions. “Looks like I’ve got a smart one.”

Hyunjin spits into your mouth, globs of saliva coating your tongue. His cock closely follows, dipping the tip in and out of your mouth quickly. He shifts, though, choosing to slide his entire length into your mouth, lips closing around him; but Hyunjin doesn’t allow it. Cock sliding out of your mouth, resulting in Hyunjin slapping you on the cheek with it again; saliva and cum sticking to your cheek. “Keep your mouth open wide.”

You adjust for him, just wanting to be able to take him and satisfy his cravings. He slides his cock back into your mouth, fully, giving minimum time to adjust to neither his speed nor his size. Mouth stretched to capacity, jaws aching and burning but Hyunjin is completely relishing in all the gagging and choking you do. You’re getting dizzier the longer his dick is in your mouth, tip kissing, nearly ramming, the back of your throat due to Hyunjin’s pacing. You feel like you’re on fire but yet you’re still able to relax into it. It isn’t long before you start moaning around his cock, absentmindedly rocking your hips back and forth whenever you taste a hint of the salty sweet substance. Hyunjin then pulls out, saliva spilling all over your chin and connecting in tiny stings to his cock. Smacking your cheek with his cock another three times, erupting in a full belly laugh, smiling at the way you’re just a completed fucked out mess, barely registering a thing he’s doing or saying to you.

“Look at that,” Hyunjin releases you from his clutches. He pushes you back by your shoulder, making you catch yourself from falling back with the palms of your hands. When you look down, you’re completely soaked, wetness dripping down your thighs and onto the ground, pooling messily onto a leaf, spilling off of its edges and soaking into the dirt beneath it. “Fucking filthy little mess you’ve made. Cunt just begging to be fucked, huh?”

The question is rhetorical but you still nod; even going as far as to whine a little bit, hips moving seemingly without your control. Hyunjin takes pleasure in this small action, kneeling down to your level. He licks his fingers, noting that he doesn’t need to at all, and swipes them over your clit, one, two times before his ring and middle finger are sliding into your cunt. Fingertips meeting the exact place you need them each time he slides them into you. You’re clenching around his fingers now, and Hyunjin licks his lips, pulling away from you.

“Turn around.” You obey, turning on your hands and knees, swinging your ass in the air. He continues with his teasing, and at this point you’re nearly sobbing, wondering if he’ll ever actually give you what you want. Pathetic chants and whines spilling from your mouth as you push your ass against Hyunjin, unable to control yourself; thinking with your cunt instead of your brain.

Hyunjin spits down onto you, and you can feel the glob of spit slide down from your asshole to your cunt, tickling its way down your clit. Hyunjin, though, slides the head of his cock from your clit, upwards, collecting his spit and your wetness in the process. He teases the tip at the rim of your tight hole, teasing at it. But when you push your ass towards Hyunjin, he pulls away, tsk-ing in the process.

“Silly little play thing,” Hyunjin gives a cold, almost threatening laugh. “I think I need to teach you a lesson on patience, hm?”

The threat has you pleading with him, repeated apologies dancing off your tongue, ultimately not acknowledged. Hyunjin loves to hear the sounds of your begs and pleads, but ultimately, the words you say do not matter to him—it all means nothing. Hyunjin marches at the beat of his own drum, and in situations like this, when he’s got a perfect piece of flesh like you beneath him, everything that he says, goes. And right now, he’s perfectly fine with teasing you over and over and over again.

Slapping his cock against your cunt once, twice, Hyunjin slightly pushes the head of his cock against the rim of your ass. He continues applying pressure, fixated on stretching out the perfectly puckered hole. You whine at the feeling, slowly inching away from it, but Hyunjin holds your hips still. Pushing and pushing, slowly, until finally he slides the head of his cock into your tight hole. Hyunjin moans out at how your hole tightens around him, welcoming him inside. He does nothing, just stays like that, moaning and ignoring your pleas for him to do something. It’s not until you feel the side of his hand brush up against you cunt that you realize Hyunjin has got a hand around his shaft, getting himself off while the tip of his cock is in your ass and you’ve got nothing to do except for lay there and accept it, with your ass in the air and your face against dirt.

His moans increase as he fucks his hand around his cock faster; and if it werent for his other hand holding you in place, you’d at least try to fuck back on him through the stretch of the pain. As Hyunjin exhales, letting out a deep groan of a moan, you feel the rush of warm liquid shooting into you. You moan in response as Hyunjin makes a mess of you with his cum, filling you up, trying to keep it all inside until he pulls out and it all, inevitably, leaks out of your hole, pooling around your cunt.

Hyunjin wastes no time, cock sliding into your cunt with ease due to your wetness and his cum; but the stretch is intense, more than you initially expected. You tighten up a bit, resisting, though you want to relax. You can’t hold your arch perfectly any longer but that’s the least of your worries—the only thing on your mind being cock. Hyunjin slides another inch into you. Maybe it’s because of all the teasing, or the fact that you’ve already cum twice, but he’s not even halfway inside of you and it feels like he’s reached the depths of your soul already. His hand reaches around, fingers coming in contact with your clit in hopes of helping you ease up.

“Created just for me,” Hyunjin breathes out, voice rough with possession. “Made just for me. Only me.”

He continues with his ownership of you, voice dipping deeper as his words become mostly obscenities. You don’t hear it. Or perhaps you can’t hear it. Maybe you don’t want to hear the vile things he’s saying. You’re overtaken, caught up by the intense, high pitch ringing that is worming its way through your ear canal, planting and fertilizing clashing waves of static all around your brain.

His hand wraps around your neck. It feels nothing like the soft, once heavenly hands that had been massaging all over your skin. These hands are rough, calloused and rigid palms that venture into freakishly long, boney fingers; with nails like claws that pierce into the side of your neck right behind your ear. Your eyes remain closed, fearing that if you open them that you’ll see something you shouldn’t, something that your mind would be unable to comprehend visually. A feeling of spiritual discomfort crawls up your back, causing you to arch, shivering at the same moment Hyunjin works his cock deeper into you, stretching you further; mentally and physically—of which he insists on doing, wanting to bend you to his will and break you beyond anything you’ve experienced.

Hyunjin pulls you back to him, hips unrelenting. Teeth, sharp like razors, piercing down into the flesh of your shoulders; nearly enough for blood to start trickling down your skin, but that does not occur. His teeth, however, do leave indents in your skin; that, if he’s lucky enough, will be permanent. His lips meet your ear next, a brief kiss planted to the lobe before whispering in a rather gruff voice, unlike that of his usual. “Inferior to me. Mine to claim.”

When he cums there’s an immense amount of it, sticky and warm. Hyunjin makes sure to be fully buried inside of you, cock seemingly swelling in size as he forces you to take all his cum inside. Hyunjin is selfish, not waiting a single moment, and barely pulling out before he begins to thrust back in. Cum coats his cock, almost daring to drip onto the ground in raindrop-like shapes. He refuses to allow that, however, fucking all of his cum back into you. His thighs, which originally felt like the silkiest, softest flesh, now coarse and dry—except for the sticky cum running down them, connecting in slightly thick, white lines against your thighs—and fuzzy; thick. “Mine to possess.”

You slowly come to realize that Hyunjin has taken a different shape completely. No longer possessing the body of a man, he has turned into some kind of beast, something inhuman. He’s grown abnormally in size and you can tell because he’s holding you up as he fucks you, toes barely scraping the dirt.

And as filthy and as frightening as it is, the line between fear and arousal is a very thin, blurry line. It leads you to come crashing down, partially due to the overstimulation, cunt spasming around Hyunjin’s cock, sucking in all his cum. You’re elated, completely delighted, mind elsewhere as you experience your high with Hyunjin fucking you through it. Hardly registering anything other than the feeling of Hyunjin’s cock stretching you out and the warmth of his cum—a sticky mess that’s leaking out both of your holes and staining your thighs.

When you come to, you’re laying on Hyunjin’s chest. It’s still daylight out, the sun beaming as bright as ever, nearly blinding when you open your eyes. It takes a few moments to shake away the pure, drowsy euphoria you’re feeling, completely ravished by bliss; almost hypnotized. You prop your head up to look at Hyunjin, and the moment you do, it’s like there are trumpets sounding off all around you. You have a realization—no, a revelation—that things aren’t as they seem as you peer up at the brown-haired man. As queasiness makes a home in the pit of your stomach, all within two mere seconds, the wind picks up; howling in the distance, bustling within the branches of trees.

“This is a dream, isn’t it?” For what might be the first time, your eyes meet his.

What words can be used to describe what you saw when you looked into the eyes of that thing? Petrifying? Nauseating? Surreal? It makes you want to close your eyes, however, when you do, the images you’ve seen seem as though they’ve been permanently printed against the black of your eyelids. Perhaps you can attempt to run away—and hide, praying to God that you’re not stalked and caught—but your muscles don’t respond to the neurons being sent by your brain. Perhaps you can find a way out of this dream, but your physical body seemingly refuses to acknowledge the call to wake up; only processing the utter fright in the images it created. The only thing you can do is stare into Hyunjin’s eyes, continuing to receive visions of which you hope you’ll be able to forget.

His irises are a deep pool of black, displaying a particular flavor not only of loneliness but utter wickedness. The longer you stare into Hyunjin’s eyes the longer you are disillusioned, fully snatched away from all delusion of this former fairytale. Vision clouded by a thick, murky fog; fully spotlighting the shocks of visions you see in his eyes.

A beast, creature unlike anything you’ve ever seen or imagined. The face of a man only oddly elongated with empty eye sockets and horns—covered in blood that only makes a mop of its fine hair—curled up into two spikes atop his head. A smile so wide it’s like it was carved in with a razor blade and charred, blackened and blood stained fangs hanging from its mouth. Its body, with its abnormally long limbs, is completely drenched in blood, dripping in pools all around the entity. Pieces of what you can only assume is a human—or even worse, you—discarded and littered around it without much thought or care.

Flesh. Human meat. Limbs and bones and the insides—intestines, livers and hearts and muscle—all around you as this vision becomes reality; suddenly finding yourself within one meter of this monstrosity. The pool of blood coming up to your ankles, rising steadily. Pieces and pieces of the now deceased all around you, entirely mangled and minced. The creature holds pieces of meat within its claws, sharp nails piercing into the gray flesh, bits of meat stuck between its teeth as it tears into its victim.

It is feeding.

The situation becomes all the more frightening when the creature raises its head towards you. Despite it being eyeless, you know that you’re making eye contact, getting lost within the empty abyss that seems to be staring into the corners of your spirit. It’s wide smile never fading as it lurches, sprinting towards you faster than the blink of an eye.

The transition from the dream world to the waking world is surreal, almost jarring. Especially since when you awaken, you’re paralyzed, body stiff with static crawling all over your skin. The darkness of your bedroom surrounds you, both familiar and completely unknown. You attempt to move around a little, opening and closing your eyes multiple times, attempting to raise at least a finger; though falling short of progress to escape this feeling, left to stare straight up at your ceiling.

Then there’s the boom. A loud, static-like noise; deep as if something really heavy had dropped—but you’re unsure if it’s coming from the dark corner on your right or elsewhere within your home. A thing that simultaneously occurred and did not happen. The speed at which fear rises within you is faster than the speed of light. Heart racing as the physical manifestation of dread drops to the bottom of your stomach—fear making its home in the back of your throat, tightening as your swallow, seemingly making it difficult to breathe. It consumes you, a heavy burden, too insufferable to support, unable to put up a fair fight against it.

Don’t Look.

Curiosity gets the best of you. You shift your eyes to the right and in the far corner of the bedroom is a space that’s significantly darker than anything else in the room; like a void. Perhaps it’s because the light from your plug-in air freshener doesn’t reach that area of the room. And perhaps you’re tired and still reeling from that strange dream, but you swear you see movement as you glance over. You want to look away, you have to look away, but curiosity sinks its claws into you. Hypnotizing and you're paralyzed with fear of what could happen. Then, the darkness in the corner grows, getting larger as if whatever it is has been expanding, standing up to greet you.

Then it disperses. Leaving you alone, shaking and sweating in the cold, unwelcoming darkness of your room, finally able to move and process things.

#🌑 — vivid dreams #🌑 — vividdream.skz #stray kids smut #skz smut #hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin smut

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justdavina · 1 month

Text

I LOVE Rainbows...Don't you?

Let's sing a song Darlings! Somewhere over the Rainbow.

A 1 and a 2 and a 3...GO!

Somewhere over the rainbow Way up high And the dreams that you dreamed of Once in a lullaby

Oh, somewhere over the rainbow Blue birds fly And the dreams that you dreamed of Dreams really do come true.

Someday I'll wish upon a star Wake up where the clouds are far behind me Where trouble melts like lemon drops High above the chimney tops, that's where You'll find me

Oh, somewhere over the rainbow Blue birds fly And the dream that you dare to Oh, why, oh, why can't I?

Well, I see trees of green and Red roses too I'll watch them bloom for Me and you And I think to myself What a wonderful world

Well, I see skies of blue and I see Clouds of white And the brightness of day Highlight the dark And I think to myself What a wonderful world

The colors of the rainbow, so pretty in the sky Are also on the faces of people passing by I see friends shaking hands Saying, "How do you do?" They're really saying, "I, I love you"

I hear babies cry and I watch them grow They'll learn much more Than we'll know And I think to myself What a wonderful world, world

Someday I'll wish upon a star Wake up where the clouds are far behind me Where trouble melts like lemon drops High above the chimney top, that's where You'll find me

Oh, somewhere over the rainbow Way up high And the dream that you dare to Why, oh, why can't I?

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revasserium · 2 months

Note

Ma’am your writhing is immaculate!!! If possible can we have a rafayel falling backwards?

falling backwards

rafayel; 1,670 words; fluff, fem!reader, no "y/n", slight!suggestiveness, fade to black, the slightest spoilers for raf's bday card, existential cuteness?

summary: the sky forgets, but the sea remembers

a/n: this is rly short and sweet, with a sprINKLE of spice in there for the bday boi!! happy belated my fav mermaid oi

lost and found.

He has waited for you for a thousand years.

And like, this he thinks he could wait for you a thousand more.

“Do you remember?” he asks, his thumb running along the thick rim of his coffee mug, the morning sun pouring thick and lemon-sweet through the endless windows of his vast studio.

“A little,” you say, your eyes fixed on your own coffee, steam still rising in faint, ghostly tendrils above the milky surface.

“Only a little?” Rafayel sighs, leaning back in his chair, his white shirt buttoned carelessly to the middle of his chest, revealing a strip of smooth, unmarred skin beneath. You lick your lips and take a sip of your steaming coffee, cheeks warming as you try to look anywhere else.

“I was just a kid…” you say, a little rueful of his disappointment, but Rafayel only laughs, leaning forward to dip a finger into the chantilly cream dollopped on top of the bowl of fruit sitting in the middle of the table. He reaches out and swipes a bit onto the tip of your nose, making you jerk back, going slightly cross-eyed as you frown.

“Hey!”

“There she is —” he nods, apparently satisfied as he sucks the remaining cream from the tip of his finger, eyes flickering up to meet yours, “There’s that laugh I love so much…”

You somehow find it in yourself to blush and look away, the abashedness of all your previous and younger years welling up inside you, only to crest up your neck and into your cheeks like the morning tide, staining your skin in the color of sunrise. Rafayel watches you with a pleased glint in his eyes, his tongue flickering out to wet his lips.

“You promised you’d come back for me,” he says, pushing his mouth up into a childish pout. You fight the urge to roll your eyes.

“That I don’t remember,” you say, petulant, as you wipe the bit of cream from your nose, scrunching your face to make sure there’s no more. But it’s a lie — though not entirely. You do remember, but only in the way the most important memories always fade with time, tucking themselves into the forgotten corners of your mind until they’re needed. And then up they come, floating to the top of your mind’s eye in flickers and goldfish flashes, like brightly colored fins caught in the morning light, just beneath the water’s shimmering surface.

“Liar,” Rafayel says, and you don’t refute him. He takes a long sip of his coffee and casts his eyes towards the distant horizon beyond his huge, studio windows. The air smells of burgeoning spring, of melting snow and drying paint. Of empty canvases and seafoam and the dewdrops lingering on the leaves of freshly budding flowers.

You press your palms to the warmth of the thick ceramic mug cupped between your hands.

“But… you found me again, didn’t you?”

a whole new world.

The entire world is 70% water. So you know this. So Rafayel tells you.

“The other 30% though, I had no way of seeing, of knowing —” his eyes are faraway as you sit, shoulders pressed against each other, a thick blanket wrapped around you both as the morning chill threatens to seep right into the marrow of your bones.

“I wanted to see the world — the whole world — not just the parts that were sunken under water.”

He says the words sunken like a curse, but you lower your eyes to your hands, clasped in your lap, and you wonder if things enveloped by the soft embrace of water might have it better than the bits of the world doomed to be above it.

“Y’know… I wanted to be a pilot when I was a kid,” you say, leaning back and casting your eyes far up towards the endless sky, the horizons brightening in silken steams of pinks and yellows. Still, the sky directly above you with color of a healing bruise, and a thick, unrelenting darkness simmers along the opposite skyline like a crouched cat, waiting for the sun to turn her head before leaping back up again.

“You did? I thought… well, honestly, I thought all Hunters would’ve wanted to become Hunters from when they were kids.”

You shrug, laughing, “You’re not wrong, but… I thought — how cool must it be to fly the planes that Hunters rode in for their bigger missions? How cool would it be to pilot something into Deepspace? I mean… there’s so much out there that we don’t know…”

Rafayel turns toward you. You flash him a soft, indulgent smile.

“So… in that sense, we’re not so different — we both wanted to see part of the world that we hadn’t before. Parts of the world that we didn’t have access to but… I was thinking about it and… isn’t that a kind of running away too?”

Rafayel stills, his breath going shallow as he turns back to watch the far horizon, where the dawn is rising like a great phoenix, feathers burning, her throat full of bright orange light, and suddenly, all the stories and legends make sense.

“The sea remembers everything the sky forgets…” Rafayel says, never taking his eyes off the rising sun, “That’s what my teacher used to tell me. Artists — we try to remember the things that the world tries to forget too — we paint moments and feelings, try to capture a second in time, even though we’re doomed to fail, over and over again.”

You turn to glance at him, and you catch him staring. Your eyes meet and it’s not so unlike the colliding of lost stars. He reaches out to trace a finger along the edge of your cheek and you feel your breath burning like sunrise in your chest, and suddenly, there’s an entire world caught in your belly, a rising dawn feathering its way out of your throat —

Kiss me, you want to say. Instead, you say, “Happy birthday.”

Thanks, it looks like he might say.

He leans in to kiss you instead.

calculations.

Later, when the sun has risen and set once more, when the tides have come and gone again, when the moon hangs high and envious in the late winter sky and he has his lips pressed to yours, the taste of your pleas slick and sweet on his tongue, he wonders if a lifetime under water has just been preparation for this.

He traces the seashell shapes of his fingers along the white sand beaches of your skin, dropping kisses into the moonlit pools caught in the dip of your collarbones.

“R-Raf —”

He savors in the way your breath catches and cuts, the way he can sever them with silver scissors as he laves his tongue across the midnight bruises blooming along your shoulder, your chest, your hips, the soft, plush insides of your thighs.

“Don’t you think you owe me at least this much?” he asks, his own voice a soft rasp as he pulls back, panting, “After leaving me alone all those years ago… making me wait for so long?”

You keen, head pressing back into the soft feather-down pillows of the mountain-top chalet, lips kissed pink, your cheeks flushed dark with color.

“I — please — more —”

“Mm…” Rafayel grins as he cocks his head, drinking in the sight of you spread out beneath him, “Since you asked so nicely…”

He figures that the human body is also made 70% water. Of salt and gravity. Of the mind forgetting while the body remembers.

Of oxygen and the stuff of lost and wandering stars.

“Tell me one more time,” he says, bending down to graze his lips along your earlobe. He savors in the way your body shakes with shivers, the slick of sweat, the soft break in your voice as moan his name.

“Raf - a - yel — please. I want — I want you.”

hiraeth.

“Do you… ever miss home?”

You try to think about how it might feel to miss a home you can no longer go back to, to come from a place that everyone around you has written off as legend — about the doubt and uncertainty, but about the freedom too.

It’s the morning after, except this time, you’re tucked into the bend of his arm, your ankles locked beneath the twisted sheets, his hair a tangled mess, haloed around his face against the soft white of the pillows.

“Home… doesn’t always have to be a place, y’know.”

“Yeah… I know that.”

“Oh? You do?”

Rafayel smiles, a thing of tenderness and salt, even as he tucks you close. Like this, you wonder if he knows that there’s an entire ocean locked beneath the dark of his gaze.

“Sure I do. Ever since that day — on the beach, my home hasn’t really been Lemuria.”

You swallow passed the dryness collecting in your throat like so much soft, white sand.

“Then…”

Rafayel lets out a puff of laughter, turning his eyes towards the ceiling.

“C’mon, I thought you had to be smart to pass the Hunter exams.”

You crinkle your nose and inch in closer.

“Maybe… maybe I just want to hear you say it.”

You don’t miss the way his ears go red as he makes a show of sighing, glancing back towards you with a helpless smile.

“Fine, fine — ahem… here it goes,” he says, clearing his throat with perhaps too much pomp and circumstance.

“Ever since that day on the beach… my home hasn’t really been Lemuria…” his voice trails off as his eyes soften and he turns to face you properly, the teasing lilt seeping from his voice until the only thing left is warmth and honesty and you can’t help but hold your breath.

“Since then… my home’s always been… you.”

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unboundprompts · 9 months

Note

Could you suggest some ways to describe unusual eye colors, like the kind that wouldn't exist in nature.

Different Ways to Describe Unusual Eye Colors

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

Silver/White:

Her eyes reminded him of the full moon, bright and constantly watching.

He had eyes like smoke and they followed her as she walked through the alley.

Their eyes were silver lightning: quick and observant.

She was certain that his eyes reflected the stars in the night sky, twinkling and mirroring his white smile.

He had eyes like snowflakes and they sparkled like freshly fallen snow.

Purple/Pink:

He had never seen eyes as beautiful as hers, and she wore a purple gown to compliment them.

Her eyes were young and vibrant, lavender in color.

They had noticed that his eyes were an unusual light pink color, but they were more aware that he had been glancing at their lips as they spoke.

Their eyes were the same shade of purple as the bruise that decorated the side of their face.

His eyes made her think of the sky at dawn, clouds of pink and orange stretching across the lavender sky.

The growing blush that spread across her cheeks were the same color as her eyes.

Red:

Her eyes were a fiery red, and they seemed to glow with the rage that welled in her throat.

His eyes were the color of blood, and they watched with a certain hunger that made her anxious.

Their eyes, a deep wine-red color, stared at him from across the table, utterly intoxicating.

His eyes reminded her of the old burgundy barn that sat in the backyard of her childhood home.

Her eyes were like roses, which told him that she may be pretty to look at, but she was not safe to touch. Sharp thorns waited for him beneath her skin were he not careful.

Yellow/Orange:

Their eyes were the first thing he noticed. They had oval slits-- like a cat's-- and were golden.

Her eyes were honey-glazed.

She thought his eyes held a hundred shades of gold.

Their eyes were like lemons, he decided. Just as sour as their personality.

He had eyes that could outshine the sun, and they couldn't help but to stare.

When he finally met [name] for the first time, he couldn't help but laugh. Now he knew why their friends called them "pumpkin."

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider buying me a coffee! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi! Become a member to receive exclusive content, early access, and prioritized writing prompt requests.

#ask box prompts #writing prompts #dialogue prompt #otp prompts #soft prompts #prompt list #rp prompts #writing prompt #romance prompts #dialogue ideas #writing ideas #love prompts #character description

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yan-lorkai · 4 months

Note

*vibrating in excitement for platonic yanderes*

Ok, so I haven't watched black butler in years, imma re-watch it soon tho, so if none of this makes sense it's cause my memories shit and you can just ignore this lol

Anyway, here's my idea/request, Obv platonic yandere Ciel with a young reaper reader (14-16)? Like maybe they meet through Grell who mentors the lil reaper. Or maybe like a young ghost reader, he meets during an investigation or smth.

Your free to pick which one obv, anyway. I hope you are having a wonderful day luv, make sure to eat and stay hydrated!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: Lemon, I made you wait a little but I finally finished this request hehe, despite having changed it a little and distorted some historical facts. Funfact: Ouija boards were created in 1891, but for the sake of this fic let's all ignore that Ciel was born in 1875; btw yesterday was his birthday. Congratulations Ciel <33. Also, many people have a hc that his real name has something to do with stars, hence the nickname present in the fic. Having said all that, I hope you enjoy Lemon, I loved writing this! Happy reading everyone!!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Platonic yandere content, spoiler about Ciel's brother in case nobody knows about it, ouija board and some typos probably!

Ciel likes to watch the sky. He likes to watch how the clouds race to overtake each other, he likes to watch the sun dancing alone in its place, twirling its colorful skirt of orange, yellow and pink during the hours that pass until finally the moon takes its place.

Quiet moments like this now, where he just sits in his armchair, his work all done and Sebastian far away, is when he can think about the things he's lost. But also the ones he won. If Sebastian had any knowledge about such thoughts, Ciel would certainly be subjected to his jokes and mockery.

The demon, while bound by the contract, could still make fun of his little master and he knew exactly how to embarrass the young lord. But Sebastian didn't need to know how the boy thinks about his twin brother, his parents, the employees and his childhood friend, Y/n; If they were alive now they would be maybe thirteen or fourteen, just like him and his brother. It was a fateful day, indeed.

The murder, the cult, Ciel hates remembering it, but he doesn't know how to let it all go. He's a child and there's no one he can ask for help - even if there was, perhaps his pride wouldn't allow it. He didn't ask for help when he was kidnapped, he didn't ask for help when he went through countless assassination attempts, nor did he ask for help with difficult tasks that the queen assigned him. He was the Phantomhive heir, the family's leader, he couldn't just simply ask for help.

The count narrows his blue eyes at the brooding darkness that has settled in his office, counting how many grains of sand fall into the hourglass and how long he has left in peace before Sebastian shows up to annoy him.

Maybe fifteen minutes.

With enough time for the boy to put his small plan into action, he pulled a wooden board from one of the drawers and placed it on the table. Ciel, by and large, was not superstitious, but recent events had left him puzzled. Moreover, he had a demon as his butler, a boy with super strength as his gardener, a sniper as his maid, and a soldier as his cook. In any case, he had even encountered death gods.

Therefore, if he suspected that the presence lingering over his shoulders while he worked or the entity hiding his items and making them appear in different places was something to be investigated, then he would investigate until his doubts were cleared. The giggles and whispers were becoming unsettling. Of course, he heard voices, but they were the voices of occultists, screams and cries from when they died at the hands of Sebastian.

But this particular voice was incredibly irritating and almost familiar.

Ciel scanned the wooden surface, wondering if he was a fool for buying it. The boy was almost certain that Sebastian knew about the board, but he decided not to comment; the butler had been rather distant since they returned from London that morning. Ciel didn't mind, quickly reading the rules and holding the pointer in his hands, trying to see something through it.

There was nothing… yet.

Ciel laid the pointer on the board and sighed, placing his fingers on it, ready to start. He hadn't said anything yet, but an aura already seemed to completely envelop his office. Or maybe he was anxious; he couldn't tell.

"Is there anyone there?" Ciel murmured, his firm voice echoing in the silent room.

For several moments, nothing happened. He really didn't expect anything to happen, judging this whole thing as something foolish that only became popular because of the horror stories that circulated in cities. He stared at the board intently, each letter in cursive, every mystical symbol adorning it, waiting for a response that would satisfy him. Impatiently, he repeated the question once more.

"Is there anyone there?" He looked at the pointer and then around. "If there is, give me a sign."

This time, the pointer began to move slowly across the board as if the entity on the other side was drowsy, gliding from one letter to another with a calmness that Ciel himself didn't possess. Ciel watched with intensity, his expression impassive. But inside, a strange feeling took hold of him.

It was real, after all. As real as shinigamis or Sebastian. He stifled another sigh in his throat.

"Who is there?" He asked, the words leaving his lips with determination.

Who behind the veil was tormenting him, holding on to him tightly so as not to be pulled into the forgetfulness of eternal sleep. He put more force on the pointer as if everything depended on the answer he would receive.

The letters came together to form words, and Ciel remained focused, but a hint of skepticism was present in his gaze when the words spelled out a name. Your first and last name.

"Y/N?" He wondered aloud.

Ciel may have lost a lot, but he also gained a lot. He gained another family, gained new friends allies, gained a new chance.

And yet… He hadn't gained you back. Or had he?

For a second, he let the pointer rest on the board, feeling a heavy sensation settle in his chest as he thought about the days when you used to stay by his side when he was bedridden with asthma, telling him your silly stories and jokes, all while holding his hand and looking tenderly at him. You were his best friend. And he missed you a lot.

And now you were here. You were here.

He placed his finger on the pointer again, still feeling doubtful if it was really you or some other spirit. Confidently, he asked something that only you knew. "What was the nickname that only you called me, and why?"

The nickname you used for him when it was just the two of you. Not for his brother, not for Ciel. If it was really you there, you would notice the small differences, as you did when you were alive.

The pointer moved, taking with each movement a beat of the young earl's heart. One by one, the letters formed a nickname forgotten by time and bitter memories of the only Phantomhive still wandering through this tedious world.

"Pleiades, that's what I used to call you." There was a pause, and Ciel felt his entire body trembling with the confirmation that yes, it was you on the other side. He straightened up in his chair, trying to show that he was calm — little did he know that you could perceive how surprised he was.

And you would tease him about it later.

"Just like your hair, they are blue, an optical phenomenon caused by the dispersion of light in the Earth's atmosphere." You explained, nodding as if he could see you. Ciel rolled his eyes but almost unconsciously smiled.

"I see you remain a know-it-all." He teased.

And you stuck your tongue out at him, moving your arms to make the chair he was sitting in slide backward. Ciel's cheeks immediately turned pink as a little yelp escaped his lips. He hadn't expected you to have more tricks up your sleeve, but soon he regained his composure and cleared his throat, watching you move the pointer.

"One of us has to be clever," You chuckled. "Obviously, I'm the smart friend."

Ciel let out a long sigh. "Your knowledge is all random, though."

You shrugged. What importance did any kind of knowledge have now that you were dead? You said nothing for a few minutes, running your fingers over the wood of the board and the supposedly mystical symbols. Being dead was boring, different for everyone, and you weren't even sure how your soul managed to escape the shinigamis for so long.

But you had one certainty; you were stuck in this world for some reason still. In many stories, there would be an unfulfilled desire or a want, and you had several, but you had made peace with the fact that you could no longer fulfill them. So what was still keeping you there?

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

Ciel nodded, gesturing with his hand for you to continue.

"Can you free me? Can you invite me out?"

Ciel had already broken some rules, especially the one that said he couldn't play alone and that the player should have a form of spiritual protection, whatever they had faith in — a crucifix, a talisman, anything. Ciel, however, had a mark on his eye, so you assumed that nullified this rule. Did that thing serve as a protective mark, though?

The boy remained silent for some time, seemingly weighing the pros and cons of taking such action. To bind a spirit to himself, to the world of the living, when he knew he should let you rest in peace, when he knew such agreements were dangerous.

But he was still the selfish earl who liked to monopolize your time; he was still that same sickly boy who needed a friend. And no one else could be his friend but you. Only you understood him, after all.

He nodded.

It was foolishness, but not even Sebastian could have stopped him. He pressed the pointer harder, desperate for it to work, but of course, it would work if you were already in front of him, the dead proof that there could be life in death.

"I invite you, Y/n, to leave this board."

A warm feeling flooded your chest, as if your skin were kissed by the sun again after so long. You savored it for a moment, smiling, feeling strangely more alive than before, and withdrew your hand from the pointer.

"Can you see me?" You asked, your voice hoarse from not speaking for months.

But Ciel didn't seem to understand, not yet at least. So you touched his cheek as you did when congratulating him on a chess victory, and he felt it, his eyes widening as he assimilated the situation. You figured that now that you touched him, he could hear you, so you asked the question again.

And slowly, he nodded. You could only imagine what he thought of your bloodstained shirt and disheveled appearance, so different from the one you once proudly preserved. Times change, and so do you, and you were like this now, a lost ghost that not even death seemed to want.

You smiled, squeezing both of his cheeks and watching him shudder. It was good to see him, good to be back, even if nothing would be the same. Nothing could ever be the same again, but being able to touch him again after so long, you didn't hesitate to hug him.

You were together again.

#yandere kuroshitsuji #yandere black butler #yandere ciel phantomhive #yandere ciel #ciel x reader #ciel phantomhive x reader #yandere ciel x reader #yandere ciel phantomhive x reader #platonic yandere #mutuals requests

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baileypie-writes · 4 months

Text

~I Want to Break Free - Part 2~

Velvet and Veneer + Younger Sibling!Reader

Part 1 here!

Fandom: Trolls 3: Band Together

Relationship: Familial

Synopsis: Velvet, Veneer and the trolls save you from Lemon Pop.

Warnings: Abusive and manipulative behavior(Lemon Pop), Reader being tortured, blood and a broken nose(Reader), Velvet swearing.

Story Requested By: @sweetheartturtle2007

Tags: @sweetheartturtle2007 @reizuuuu @dark-stars-and-the-moons-melody

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

You didn’t have any energy left to scream as your musical talent was painfully sucked out of your body once again. You were honestly surprised that you had any talent left to give. Your arms and legs were almost completely translucent, and your hair was more white than it was your natural color.

You flopped into the floor with a loud thud, making you groan. “Haven’t you had enough? This is the seventh time you’ve done this just today.” You asked Lemon Pop, your face being squished by the floor, muffling your speech slightly.

Lemon Pop laughed. “Aw, are you tired? Well, too bad. It’s a busy day, and the people want me to sing!”

“I’m sure they’d also like you to be honest.” You mumbled, but Lemon heard.

She stomped over to you, and grabbed your face harshly, forcing you to look at her. “Hey, at least I’m putting your talent to good use instead of posting stupid covers on the internet.” She mocked you. She let go of your face, making it fall to the ground, and bang your nose on the floor. You yelped in pain.

Lemon quickly checked herself in the mirror, before opening the door to leave. “You should probably put a bandaid on that or something.” She said, then left the room, slamming the door behind her.

You got up, with some struggle. You were so weak, you had to grab the wall for support. After looking at yourself in the mirror, you saw what Lemon Pop was talking about. Your nose was bleeding, a result from what happened just moments before. It looked pretty busted too, probably broken.

You grabbed some tissues from the vanity, and held them on your nose. You thought back to how this all happened. You would’ve never guessed Lemon Pop’s true intentions when you first met her. She was so kind. But despite this, you still called yourself stupid for falling for her tricks. You missed your freedom, and you missed your family and friends. Lemon truly proved how messed up she was by forbidding you from seeing them.

All the memories from before this mess flooded your brain, and you wished you could have your old life back. Then the reality sank in that in the next few days, you’d probably be dead. Lemon was using more and more of your talent each day, and there wasn’t much left. This broke you, and you crumbled to the ground and cried.

~~~~

Veneer accelerated the speed of his car, following the lights of what were obviously coming from Lemon Pop’s concert. The sky above it glowed of yellow, matching the yellow traffic light that Veneer sped past.

“Drive faster, Veneer!” Velvet pestered.

“I can’t! Any faster, and we’d crash! I’m surprised that we haven’t even been pulled over yet!”

Before they could argue anymore, Rosetta interrupted. “We’re almost there! I can hear Lemon singing!”

The twins became quiet to listen. They could hear her as well, and they hated how good she sounded. That was your talent. And she was using it for her own benefit. They new it made then hypocrites to be mad, but at least now they finally understood how Brozone felt.

Veneer pulled into the parking lot, not even bothering to find a proper spot. Everyone hopped out of the car, and started booking it to the concert. Only a few seconds after beginning to run, Velvet and Veneer heard tiny voices from a distance behind them.

“Hey! Wait up!” Branch complained. Velvet rolled her eyes, and she and Veneer walked back to the trolls. They scooped them up, each twin taking half, and resumed the rescue.

Mount Rageons were jumping and screaming. Velvet and Veneer could barely see Lemon Pop at all.

“Ugh! How are we gonna get to her?” Velvet growled. She barely heard herself over all the screaming.

“I have an idea!” Poppy exclaimed. “Velvet, Veneer and the bros, you focus on finding (name). Rosetta, Viva and I will get to Lemon Pop!” She said. Once everyone agreed, the three troll ladies stretched out their hair, and swung upwards to the ceiling. Then, the rest of them went to find a door to backstage.

~~~~

After Veneer created a distraction by making his car alarm go off, the guards were gone. The twins and Brozone made it inside, and began searching for you.

“Where do you think (name) is? This place is huge!” Asked Bruce.

“Well, when we had Floyd trapped,” Veneer started. Floyd huffed, annoyed by how causally he said it. “we kept him in our dressing room.”

“Ok, then let’s check there. And please, be quiet.” Branch reminded for the hundredth time.

They made it to the dressing room in little time, and were alarmed when they heard sobbing coming from inside. Velvet and Veneer rushed to the door, and flung it open.

You gasped, startled. Once you and your siblings locked eyes, your crying stopped. “Velvet, Veneer? Why are you here?”

“What does it look like, idiot? We’re here to save you!” Velvet said. She and Veneer rushed over to you, enveloping you in a bone-crushing hug. Brozone stepped aside, so you guys could have your moment. You were so happy to see them, and started crying again. The twins pulled away, taking a good look at you to make sure you weren’t hurt.

“Oh my gosh, what happened to your nose?! It looks broken!” Veneer asked, holding your face to examine it.

“Oh, that was an accident. I’m fine. I just wanna go home.” You said through tears. The twins looked at you, and gave you a reassuring nod. Suddenly, you heard what sounded like an angry mob coming from the location of the concert.

“What’s going on?” You asked.

“Our friends are handling Lemon Pop, so I’m guessing they broke the news. Let’s go see!” John Dory spoke up. Velvet and Veneer helped you up from your spot on the floor, and you all made your way to where the stage was.

~~~~

“Are you guys really believing a few trolls over me? They’re clearly lying!” Lemon Pop shouted in anger. Her ugly side was coming out, which was not helping her attempt to prove her “innocence”.

You and everyone else had made it to the stage. You, Velvet and Veneer hopped on, causing the audience to erupt in gasps.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you!” Velvet shouted, nearly launching herself at Lemon. But you stopped her.

“The trolls are telling the truth. My name is (name), and Lemon Pop’s been stealing my talent.” To prove yourself, you rolled up your long sleeves, showing the audience your translucent arms. Another wave of gasps flooded the room.

“She did the same to me too!” Rosetta chimed in. Now the audience was angry, shouting at the pop star they paid to see. Lemon Pop was backed into a corner, with no way out. At that point, the guards had decided to take action, and made their way to her with a pair of handcuffs.

You and your siblings smiled at each other in victory.

~~~~

(A Few Weeks Later…)

Your road to recovery has been nothing but successful. Your hair color was coming back, which you were very pleased about. You didn’t want to live the rest of your life looking like an old person. Your arms and legs were also not so translucent anymore. It’s gone down to your hands and feet.

Lemon Pop was serving her time in prison, which would be a few years. This made you feel relieved, to say the least.

“Hey kid! How’re you doing?” Veneer said, entering your room with Velvet.

“I’m good!” You said.

“Great! Look at that, your nose looks much better now!”

He was right. Your nose was almost fully recovered. You’d be taking off the bandage in a couple of days.

“So, what’re you doing?” Velvet asked.

“Oh, just working on a new song.” You said. Since being saved, you decided to become a singer. You’ve released a few songs already, and they’ve done really well. You already have a ton of fans, who’ve supported you after the whole incident. You’ve completely replaced Lemon Pop, and both you and your siblings are proud of that.

“Cool. Can we hear it?” Velvet asked. Veneer nodded, agreeing with her question.

“Sure!”

You’re forever grateful for your siblings and for the trolls. Because of them, you’re not dead, and you’re able to start a career. You’re using your own given talent to be successful, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

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

~~baileypie-writes

#trolls 3 band together #trolls 3 #trolls 3 x reader #trolls 3 velvet #trolls 3 veneer #trolls velvet #trolls veneer #velvet x reader #veneer x reader #velvet x reader platonic #veneer x reader platonic #baileypie-writes

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apoemaday · 10 months

Text

Catalogue of Ephemera

by Rebecca Lindenberg

You give me flowers resembling Chinese lanterns. You give me hale, for yellow. You give me vex.

You give me lemons softened in brine and you give me cuttlefish ink. You give me all 463 stairs of Brunelleschi’s dome.

You give me seduction and you let me give it back to you. You give me you. You give me an apartment full of morning smells—toasted bagel and black coffee and the freckled lilies in the vase on the windowsill. You give me 24-across.

You give me flowers resembling moths’ wings.

You give me the first bird of morning alighting on a wire. You give me the sidewalk café with plastic furniture and the boys with their feet on the chairs. You give me the swoop of homemade kites in the park on Sunday. You give me afternoon-colored beer with lemons in it.

You give me D.H. Lawrence, and he gives me pomegranates and sorb-apples.

You give me the loose tooth of California, the broken jaw of New York City. You give me the blue sky of Wyoming, and the blue wind through it.

You give me an ancient city where the language is a secret everyone is keeping.

You give me a t-shirt that says all you gave me was this t-shirt. You give me pictures with yourself cut out.

You give me lime blossoms, but not for what they symbolize.

You give me yes. You give me no.

You give me midnight apples in a car with the windows down. You give me the flashbulbs of an electrical storm. You give me thunder and the suddenly green underbellies of clouds.

You give me the careening of trains. You give me the scent of bruised mint.

You give me the smell of black hair, of blond hair.

You give me Apollo and Daphne, Pan and Syrinx. You give me Echo.

You give me hyacinths and narcissus. You give me foxgloves and soft fists of peony.

You give me the filthy carpet of an East Village apartment. You give me seeming not to notice.

You give me an unfinished argument, begun on the Manhattan-bound F train. You give me paintings of women with their eyes closed. You give me grief, and how to grieve.

#poetry #rebecca lindenberg #catalogue of ephemera #a personal favorite

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its-time-to-write · 1 month

Text

please don’t be - ch. 3

table of contents glow (so other things can)

“It’s the south of France,” says Julia. “No one’s allowed to be sad in the south of France.”

“She’s not sad,” Nicola corrects. “She doesn’t feel anything, and that can’t be good.”

You shrug and watch the lemon trees sway in the breeze.

You can’t be expected to feel something, not when you’re empty inside. You’d have to have something left of you.

But Jamie… Jamie liked to take. It wasn’t a problem because you liked to give, but at some point something changed and he took your entire heart before you noticed it was gone.

And you’d been so careful too.

It’s not a problem. It’s summer, you’re on vacation in the South of France, and life couldn’t be better. You’re in a sprawling villa with three of your friends, a gorgeous beach nearby, and some of the best food of your life.

You’re glowing.

And you’re going to some couture event that’s really just a party because Nicola’s technically here on work, so the three of you get to wear beautiful Versace dresses and mingle with Europe’s most beautiful and celebrated, all in a gorgeous chateau.

Your brain replays, you should go back to school, so you shake your head to clear it of that choppy, beautiful voice and pretend the sky isn’t the exact color of your eyes.

You take the tube of lipstick from Julia’s hand and decide it’s going to be smeared by the end of the night.

—

There’s nothing quite like losing your head in another country. It doesn’t count, in a way. The boy in front of you is nothing like Jamie and you don’t mind so much, except he doesn’t look into your eyes the same way, and he doesn’t quite know what to say in between kisses.

Not that he needs to say anything, god knows you and Jamie had your uninterrupted moments, but Jamie always knew exactly what you were thinking and exactly what to say. The buzzing in your head stops whenever he enters a room.

The buzzing has only gotten louder as the night progresses.

He pauses long enough to ask, “Can I get you a drink?” so you nod and smile and then knock your head against the nearest tree as soon as he’s gone.

It’s not working.

The whole point of this was to forget Jamie. To remove the last little shreds clinging to your memory.

He shouldn’t matter, he doesn’t, and yet…

You groan, and scrunch your eyes shut. It wasn’t supposed to matter, you knew better. But some floppy-haired pretty-boy prick-ass footballer had said the exact right combination of words to get you to fall so hard and so fast.

“You going back to school?” he asks one evening. You’re both bundled up and walking through Richmond, on the hunt for some coffee.

You shrug. “Don’t know. I’d like to go for a doctorate, but I’m not sure it’s necessary. Be fun, though”

Jamie throws back his head and laughs, pearly-white teeth glowing in the streetlight. “You’re the only fucking person I know who thinks a fucking doctorate is fun.”

He knocks into you, just a nudge, but it sets your arm ablaze. Every touch from him feels like fire.

You’re quiet, unsure what to say next. Jamie, though, Jamie knows what to say. Jamie always knows what to say. He knows where to go, what to do; you never have to think too much when you’re with him. He knows when to ask, and when to choose.

“You should do it,” he continues. “You should go back to school. Be fucking mint, like. I’d get to tell the lads I’m with a real fuckin’ doctor.”

And that was it. That was all it took for the tingling in your arm to shoot all the way to your chest. And sure, you didn’t have time at the moment, but you’d applied as soon as Jamie played his first match back on City turf.

He always knew the way to your heart.

Fuck him for that.

There was a part of you that always thought he wanted more but was too scared to ask.

But you were wrong, so wrong, so fuck Jamie Tartt.

You hear footsteps on the gravel, so you open your eyes, expecting your drink, but are instead met with a stupid Gucci button up, rolled to perfectly showcase a stupid tattoo on a stupid forearm.

“Oh,” is all you can manage. “Sorry. I- I didn’t know you were here. Where’s…?”

“Inside,” comes Jamie’s short response.

“Oh,” you say again.

There’s a part of you that wants to leave, and leave fast, but another, more idiotic part of you wants to stay.

Just for a moment, just long enough for him to apologize, explain, something, although you know he won’t. So you should leave rather than be disappointed.

But you pause for half a second, still blinking up at him (when did he get so close?) and just as you resign yourself to the fact that you’re going to have to walk away, he speaks and breaks your heart all over again.

table of contents

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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bettyfrommars · 1 month

Text

Ring of Fire

a biker Steve au

Part 2: More Than Words

masterlist playlist

18+ONLY, MDNI, longing, friends to strangers to lovers, mature themes, mention of sex work and violence, reader has secrets, so does Steve, eventual smut, dirty deeds, biker!Hopper. It's the mid 90's and Steve is in his early 30's.

word count: 4.3k

Summary: Getting to know the town of Hawkeye, including Munson's Garage and Patsy's diner. Steve has dreams of another life he never lived. Reader has dreams of Steve. Hopper spends his spare time looking out for Lorelei.

A/N: There will be references to I'm on Fire in the first part of this chapter by way of dreams, but it is not a crucial plot point to the story, just in case you are not familiar with the other series. I keep wanting to bring more of the places/people in from IoF, but every time I do, this Steve morphs into the old one, and I love the idea of exploring him this way, without the other backstory.

Morning cracked open through your blinds, a bright sun void of warmth. Rolling to face the wall on your floor mattress, you curled the lemon-yellow comforter up over your head, only to be bludgeoned by the onslaught of birds tweeting outside your window.

A motorcycle grumbled by on the street below and you were officially awake.

There was a kitchenette in your apartment, but you didn’t have a coffee maker or grounds yet. The diner opened at 6am on weekends, and that is where you planned to go. You considered throwing a coat on and shuffling over in your pajamas, but ended up pulling on a change of wardrobe that did not match and a shirt that was inside out.

7:30 was far too early for clever dressing.

The sky matched the color of the pavement by the time you stepped out onto the sidewalk, now that the sun had been obscured by hulking clouds. You pulled the hood of your sweatshirt up as a soft drizzle misted your skin, waiting for a big truck to pass before making your way across the street.

One block over and two blocks down was the red and white sign for Patsy’s Diner. You spotted it just as the rain fell unyielding, your feet picking up the pace.

There were three cars in the slant street parking out front, including a big black Chevy truck with a square body style from the early 70’s.

You didn’t see Steve until it was too late. Not until you locked eyes through the diner window.

—-----

Steve picked Robin up every Saturday morning to have breakfast at Patsy’s, which had been their ritual for almost a decade. There’d been a couple exceptions, including the months Robin was locked up for voluntarily taking the fall for the weed possession for one of her girlfriends, and a few when Steve had been out of town on a run with the Coffin Kings. Other than that, even with the worst head-splitting hangover, they never missed it.

Robin threw her leather jacket into the booth first before she slid in wearing paint-splattered overalls over a baggy tee with the band Heart on the front. Her warm golden hair was long, passed her shoulders, and worn in a low ponytail, exposing the “lover” tattoo inked in cursive just under her ear.

Their booth was right at the front corner of the L-shaped diner, next to the window. Steve had even carved their initials under the table at one point with his old utility knife. The booths were burnt sienna vinyl that were so worn at the seat that they were ripped in places, exposing the gauzy innards. The waitress Jeanette collected steaming plates from the kitchen hatch to carry to another table while Sharon, her co-worker, brought over a steaming pot of coffee and two stout, brown mugs.

Steve rolled a toothpick around in his mouth from side to side as he held open the laminated menu to look it over, even though he could read the whole thing with his eyes closed.

“Rough night?” Robin asked while she concentrated on stirring three spoons of sugar and a hearty dollop of cream into her coffee.

Steve didn’t look up from the menu. “How could you tell?”

Between the raw strawberry on his knuckles and the dark purple half moons under his eyes, he knew the answer was obvious.

“Your hair looks like it’s trying to evacuate your scalp.”

She waited for him to start combing the mess back with his fingers to give a soft chuckle.

Steve let the menu go flat on the table and palmed the rim of his black coffee to pull it closer. “I had another one of those dreams last night.”

His best friend’s eyes snapped up, but then Jeanette was there to take their order and the conversation had to pause while Steve got his standard hotcakes with bacon, and Robin her omelet with hash browns and sourdough toast. They exchanged a few pleasantries, since Jeanette had worked there as long as the two of them had been alive, and then Robin settled back in her seat with a weary huff.

Steve felt like he had to remind himself to blink, his eyes were so dry. He stared out the window as he spoke. “I had a kid, a little boy.”

Robin leaned forward to rest her forearms on the table. “Was I his mother in this one? These dreams of yours freak me out. I can’t imagine being someone’s mother, like, not ever.”

“You were a really good one though,” a hesitant smile quivered on his lips. “You helped me raise him even though he wasn’t biologically yours. But in the dream last night I—”

Every time he woke up from those particular dreams, he mourned the loss of a child he never had.

He cut off what he was about to say as the memory of the love he felt in his dream hit him like a wave. “Last night I was about to get married to some woman, and we had a baby on the way. My baby.”

She was about to crack a joke, but then thought better of it. “I know what it feels like. To have the kind of dreams you don’t want to wake up from. Who in the hell would want to wake up to our lives.”

“Wayne is healthy though,” Steve nodded to himself, trying to find the positives. “In these dreams he’s…sick or something, and I’m always worried he's not going to live much longer.”

“The apocalypse couldn’t kill Wayne,” she smiled. “Old man will outlive all of us.”

The food came, and the topic of conversation changed, until Robin shoved a bite into her cheek. “What was his name? Your son?”

“His name was Oliver,” Steve held a strip of bacon out, not ready to take a bite yet.

Robin bobbed her head a few times. “That’s a good name,” and then, “you want to talk about what happened last night?”

“Same old shit,” he huffed, slapping a few crumbs off his black tee while he chewed. “Hop and I were called out to the junkyard and—”

There you were again, like another dream he was bound to wake up from.

Robin was concentrating on shoveling a particularly big bite into her mouth, so she didn’t know why he’d gone so quiet, until she followed his line of sight.

You stepped inside, wiping the rain off your face, but you kept your hood on while you waited for a waitress to greet you. Inside the diner was cozy, wall to wall carpeted a teddy bear brown, and smelled of cooked meats, coffee, and syrup. It made your mouth water, and you wondered if you should splurge on something as frivolous as eating out.

Jeanette tried offering to seat you at the bar, but you were adamant that you’d take a brew and some sugars to go. Also a toasted bagel, you added that in at the last second.

“You want egg on that, honey?” Jeanette asked, nestling her pen in the curly silver hair above her ear.

Peeking out from the side of your hood, you noticed Steve lifting up to get a better look at you from his window booth. “No, plain is fine, thank you.”

“Who is that?” Robin asked, wiping her mouth as she turned around in her seat to get a look at you.

“No one. Someone I knew in middle school,” Steve mumbled, hacking into his stack of pancakes with the side of his fork. “She’s the new renter above Donna’s place.”

“Huh,” Robin turned her attention back to her plate. “Why do you look so flustered?”

You were standing at the door, watching the rain come down in sheets, when you felt a warm body sink in behind you.

“You need a ride back?” It was Steve with his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “It looks pretty…wet out there.”

When you turned to face him, you brushed some forgotten crumbs off of his chest with your hand. It was a very familiar gesture, one that neither of you thought too much about until much later that day.

You were about to decline, but it was the integrity of your bagel that concerned you. Jeanette brought you the big to-go cup and warm bread in a paper bag.

“I don’t mind getting wet, just as long as you aren’t here on your bike.”

—------

Steve ran over to tell his companion to sit tight while he drove you the 3 blocks home. His friend waved at you from her seat, and you gave a tentative wave back. More like just holding your hand up in the air actually, something of a Spok greeting.

“I don’t want to interrupt you—”

“She’s fine,” Steve assured, lifting his jacket up to hold over your head as the two of you pushed through the door and into the frey. “This will only take a minute.”

Hunkering down in your hood, you jerked the heavy metal door of his ‘78 Chevy pickup open, and then spread yourself long across the bench seat to reach over and pop the lock on his door.

Rain dripping down his face, Steve watched your two fingers pluck the lock up, and it was a small gesture to most, but a tender one for him. Even his ex-girlfriend hadn’t afforded him that, not once.

You weren’t his girlfriend though, you were barely a friend. An acquaintance he’d fantasized about in his formative years.

Once you were both under shelter in the dry cab, you glanced up through the windshield and saw Robin keeping an eye on the two of you from her place at the window. Even through the visual distortion from the rain, you could make out a soft smile lingering, perking up her cheeks.

The interior smelled like him: old leather, cigarettes, and the yellow, vanilla, tree-shaped freshener hanging from the volume knob on his radio.

“Sorry if it stinks in here,” he reached down to swat the ashtray closed that was full of smoked filters. “I need to clean that out.”

“Are you familiar with the dumpsters in the alley behind Donna’s place?”

He nodded yes as he put the key in the ignition.

“Well, they are right under my bedroom window, and I have no air conditioning. I’m looking forward to how my place will smell in the dead of summer.”

The truck grumbled to life and he anchored his arm around the seat to turn and see where he was going as he backed up. “You just need one of those air conditioning units that fits in the window. I know a guy, I’ll get you one.”

You hadn’t been fishing for help but, “that’s really nice of you, thanks.” His offer made you feel small for a second.

Less than a minute later, you were at your place. He pulled in as close as he could to the awning without crashing into the cement structure.

Not many words were exchanged as you got out, just a few mumbles of “thank you” and “good to see you”, but then you were out and slamming his heavy door shut to hurry inside. He waited out there for a few beats, wishing he would’ve said more before coasting back to the diner.

—---

Later that day, as the sun faded to a collage of pink orange behind the low hills, Hopper sat on his Harley in the parking lot of the Rosebud Motel.

The amount of time spent waiting there, watching the door to room 11 might have sounded absurd to some, but he knew that no one could look after her like he could.

He’d read about a trucker in the news who was paying women for sex and then hurting them. A few of the girls were missing, and foul play was suspected, but no one cared about the victims enough to investigate much. Most of Lorelei’s clientele were locals; lonely hired hands and married men, but there were always transient travelers looking for some company when they passed through town. Those were the ones he was concerned about.

The door to her room opened just as he lit a fresh cigarette. The guy that stepped out was pushing 70, adjusting his suspenders over his shoulders. She stayed in the doorway, covered in one of her satin robes, and kissed him on the cheek. Her appointments weren’t always about sex. Some were, for sure, and those he preferred not to think about, but a lot were touched starved hermits who craved conversation and a shoulder rub from a beautiful woman. A few liked to worship her feet. One guy preferred to feed her ice cream while they watched Cheers reruns on the bed together. Bottom line, nothing she shared surprised him any more.

The local customers knew that Hopper was her watchdog, and they’d be too afraid to cross a line with her, even if they wanted to.

Hopper had not yet been intimate with Lorelei though; not even a kiss.

For years, he’d managed to keep it platonic, ever since she hired him to be her driver and bodyguard for a date with a new customer she wasn’t yet comfortable with. He’d known that same night that he wanted to be with her, but he also knew he wasn’t special, that she saw him as a bit of a necessary evil to keep the bad man away.

But, Hopper was a bad man who had done many bad things. She deserved better.

He would protect her with his life at the drop of a hat.

Ned, the guy in the suspenders, shuffled to his Chrysler LeBaron, and then Lorelei turned to smile and wave at Hopper.

He fixed his hair, slicking it back on each side, squinting as he plucked the last of his smoke from between his lips, tossing it to the pavement before adjusting his Coffin Kings cut to wave back.

—----

The rain was off and on all day, until the night shadows snuffed it out, allowing only a damp mist to remain. Earlier, you’d found a coffee maker at the thrift store, and when you still couldn’t sleep at midnight, you decided to caffeinate yourself to see if it counteracted your awakeness and made you sleepy. Not much logic to it, but still, there it was.

Deciding to go out for a walk, you zipped your jacket up and headed out, down along the dumpster alley, and out into the street that led to the park. The playground equipment sat so ominously motionless, the empty expanse felt eerie for a moment as you made your way over to the swings, hands shoved deep into your pockets.

You grabbed onto the chain, sitting in the teal plastic seat. Beneath you, the ground was worn into a large divot where years of dragging feet had been. You remember sitting on the same swig when you were a little kid and your feet couldn’t reach the dirt.

“Do you want to be alone?” His voice came out of nowhere, making your head turn so fast you almost kinked your neck.

You saw the plume of cigarette smoke before you saw him. He was cloaked in darkness, but there was something about his shape, the way he sauntered forward.

“Steve?”

“Miss me?”

You took a deep breath, attempting to slow your heart rate. “What are you doing out here?”

“I was just wondering the same thing about you,” he came fully into view then, illuminated by the full moon through the tree boughs. “This is my park.”

“Oh,” you looked around with mock surprise. “You own this whole park? You did well for yourself.”

With a flick of ash from his cig, he sank down into the swing next to you, chains clinking against the aluminum bracing as he did so. His hair curled at the base of his neck, the thick top part flopping to one side as he raked a hand through it. He was wearing that same type of v-neck shirt under his leather jacket to give a peak of his chest hair and tattoos, as if he knew you’d be looking. As if he’d known he’d run into you.

He smirked. “When Eddie and I were kids, we lived in that trailer park a few blocks that way,” he nodded over his shoulder. “We spent a lot of time here. Any excuse to get out of the house.”

He extended the pack of cigarettes out to offer you one, but you declined that time. “What were you out here doing tonight though?” You pressed.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he grumbled a laugh. “Decided to go for a ride. You?”

“Same, with the not being able to sleep thing. In the city there is more to do but not many options here.”

“Tell me about it,” he scoffed.

You shared a silence then, one that did not feel empty or awkward, but then he looked up at the sky that was clear and bright with stars.

“Do you wanna get out of here? Go for a ride?”

It took you a full minute to answer, but it was not a hesitance based on uncertainty. It was hesitance based on wondering if Steve knew what he was getting himself into with a girl like you.

“Where are we going? New Mexico?”

He shrugged, making eye contact again. “We could. If that’s what you want.”

You ran your tongue along the tips of your teeth, waiting for him to come over and take your hand to help you out of the seat. He pulled you up so fast, your chests crashed together, your mouths inches apart.

“I want to show you something,” he said, brushing his lips against yours.

—-

When you blinked awake the next morning, you realized that meeting Steve on the playground had been a dream. You let the weight of its loss sink in as you rubbed sleep from your eyes, fumbling for the key around your neck as if you might’ve misplaced it in another dimension.

On the other side of town, Steve revved his bike to life in the garage of the picket fence house he’d been renting from Eddie Munson. Eddie’s ex Melanie left him high and dry with a mortgage on his hands, and he was quick to offer it to his friend when he had nowhere to go. Steve took care of the small lawn, and did any repairs with money from his own pocket. He didn’t really care about the quaint seaside bungalow look of it—the garage was all that mattered to him. He could keep his bike in there and fix up project cars when he had the means.

He was running late, so he took the shortcut through the back alleyways of town.

Or maybe he knew he’d be on time, he just wanted to cruise by your apartment and see if he could get a glimpse of you.

Coffee was brewing in the office at Munson’s Garage when he got there and from behind the desk, Robin looked surprised.

“You’re almost a half hour early,” she dropped her attention to the papers she was organizing. “Did you get any sleep at all?”

“I slept great actually,” he lied, pulling a styrofoam cup off the stack to fill it with steaming brew. “At least five hours.”

“No shit,” she returned under her breath. “If you’re ready to clock in, Eddie has that Plymouth up on the lift for you to take a look at. The owner wants to pick it up this afternoon.”

She stood to hand Steve a sheet of paper as she spoke. “A few vehicles are coming in to get serviced at 9. Eddie has to pick up a tow in Everett, so it’s just you and Hopper today.”

Through the window over Robin’s head, Steve could see the inside of the garage and Hopper leaning against a tall, red tool caddy to have a smoke. He bucked his chin at Steve when he caught his eye.

A few hours into the daily grind, Steve was murmuring the lyrics to the song More Than Words by Extreme while he was on the creeper under a car, thankful for Hopper’s presence since he really didn’t give a shit about the music. Eddie though? His tastes were very particular, and they usually had to flip a coin. When Steve won the toss, Eddie grumbled around the bay all day, rolling his eyes at Steve’s enthusiasm for Prince’s entire discography.

Hopper kicked Steve’s foot to get his attention.

“What’s up man?” Steve grunted, continuing to work.

“Protection run tonight with Bones and a few of the others. Are you coming?” Hopper had on cement gray coveralls and pulled a red rag from his back pocket to wipe carburetor fluid off his hands.

Steve stopped what he was doing and used his legs to inch out from under the Pontiac Firebird. He’d scratched his neck several times and wiped his eye, so there were dark smudges in those spots. A protection run was when members of the Coffin Kings went along to escort precious, most likely illegal, cargo across state lines.

Steve didn’t answer, so Hopper continued. “Sounds like we’ll each be getting a couple grand a head.”

A couple grand? For a few hours of work when he wouldn’t be sleeping anyway? Oh yeah, Steve was going on the protection run, no matter the risks.

“Steve?” The voice belonged to someone else at that time. Someone who sounded a lot like you.

Steve sat up on the creeper and fiddled with the wrench in his hand, sure that it was only Robin and he was just hearing things.

But, there you were, stepping into the garage from the parking lot with what appeared to be a casserole dish in your hands.

“Um, hi, you—um,” Steve got to his feet after a clumsy shuffle with the creeper, wiping his hands off as well as he could on his jeans.

“I brought you some lunch,” flustered, you realized it was past noon and surely he’d had lunch already. “Or dinner, whichever. As a thank you for driving me home yesterday.”

Hopper looked from Steve to you and then back to you again before excusing himself to the other side of the garage.

Robin hurried to spy on the conversation from the air conditioned privacy in the office.

“For me?” He wasn’t trying to be obtuse, he was genuinely confused.

“Well,” you steadied the ceramic dish in your hands, glancing around. “Or whoever else might want some. It’s lasagna. My mom’s recipe. I made some for myself earlier and just thought you might…um…do you like lasagna?”

“Sure,” he reached out to take it from you. “Who doesn’t like lasagna?”

The words were there, but you couldn’t read the expression on his face. The scowl lines in his forehead and the down-turned side of his mouth told you that he was repulsed by all of it: the lasagna, you, everything.

Steve was speechless. Not for lack of words, but more an abundance of them. The last time anyone had cared to make something for him was his grandmother before she passed. Robin had made him dinner a handful of times, but that was different. Still, all he could do was stare at the tin foil cover and wet his lips.

Your brain raced. “If it’s too much, I can take it back?”

“No,” Steve moved the dish away as if to protect it from your reaching hands. “I’ll make sure to clean the dish when I’m done and get it back to you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you shuffled back, turning on your heel to beeline for your car as fast as you could.

We were going to run away to New Mexico together, remember?

A few other Coffin Kings had just pulled into the parking lot, and with narrowed eyes, Steve noticed that they were all watching you walk away.

Fuckers.

He struggled to find a place to put the blue dish down, and finally settled on the concrete, so he could head off after you at a jog.

“Hey,” he caught your arm, moving with purpose to block their leering view of you. “Is that your car? Let me walk you over there,” pointing to the yellow Dodge Omni parked under the awning.

You moved a few steps, so did he, and then you eyed him suspiciously. “What’s going on?”

One of the Kings whistled their approval of you, and Steve gnashed his teeth.

“Nothings going on, I just wanted to make sure you know how grateful I am. For coming over here. With the food. For bringing me food.”

You tried to see where the whistle had come from, but Steve darted to the side to block your view.

God, he was blowing it. What a tool.

You wanted to tell him about the dream you had, but right then didn’t feel like a good time.

“I have to get back to work,” you looked at your hands, and then lifted them to the heartbeat in his tan throat, and eventually up to his full lips. “See you later?”

He reached out as if he might hug you, but then put his arms down again, slapping them to his sides. “Hey, are you busy tomorrow night?”

“I work during the day, but otherwise I’m never busy,” you swallowed, avoiding his gaze.

“Do you want to get out of here? Go for a ride?”

But then, your eyes snapped up at the familiarity of the questioning.

“There’s something I want to show you,” he added.

----

Thank you so much to my readers, I love you and love to hear what you think.

#Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington au #biker!Steve #biker Steve Harrington #biker!Hopper #Ring of Fire #Steve Harrington fic #Steve Harrington series #Steve Harrington smut #biker au

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pennyroks77 · 4 months

Text

made this a while ago and forgor abt it...

fnaf animatronic maker!

please rb if you use! I'd love to see y'all's results :D

(long post warning)

fav (human) character - animal

Crying Child - cat

Elizabeth Afton - hamster

Micheal Afton - spider

William Afton - bunny (ofc)

Vanessa Shelly - mouse

Mike Schmidt - dog

Abby Schmidt - raccoon

Henry Emily - panda

Charlie Emily - penguin

Gregory - tiger

Cassie (sb) - pig

other - gecko

fav fansong - style

FNaF (TLT) - original/blumhouse

Join the Party (JT Music) - toy

Die in a Fire (TLT) - withered

Afton Family (KryFuZe) - fredbear's family diner

Below the Surface (Griffinilla) - funtime

Stay Calm (Griffinilla) - rockstar

It's Been so Long (TLT) - nightmare

Never be Alone (Shadrow) - Balloon Boy/circus

I Can't Fix You (TLT, Crusher-P) - puppet

Stuck Inside (Black Gryph0n) - bonbon/bonnet

Run Run (CK9C) - freddy and friends

You Can't Hide (CK9C) - fnaf world

Lights On (Kyle Allen) - daycare attendant

Drop (CG5) - glamrock

I Got No Time (TLT) - fusion

Join us for a Bite (JT Music) - free choice

other - fusion or free choice

birth month - main color

january - white

february - red

march - teal

april - blue

may - coral

june - green

july - black

august - pink

september - yellow

october - orange

november - purple

december - brown

fav animatronic - accent color

freddy - tangerine

bonnie - silver

chica - lemon

foxy - rose

monty - turquoise

roxy - magenta

sun/moon - sky blue

ennard - lime

baby - mauve

ballora - indigo

mangle - scarlet

springbonnie - lavender

other - gold

everything else is up to you!!!

this is what I got! a toy/puppet fusion hamster named callie :)

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ddoxhan · 1 year

Text

that feeling when

baby's breath and lemon candies

word count : 2.1k words

genre : fluff in the season of spring; you were always bitter when spring came, but things changed when she came along; florist!hanni x fem!reader (a year older than hanni); hanni's a confident baby and reader fell for her at first sight but doesn't realize

t/w : none :) just cuteness overload

a/n : hanni just has the sweetest smile that can melt hearts (including mine of course) I wanted to portray that spring vibe and soft colors that are associated with it, hope I succeeded haha enjoy !

spring morning, pastel sky, chilly breeze. it was just like every other morning in this season of cherry blossoms, and that was the exact reason why you despised this time of the year. from the very first thing that greets you as you leave your doorstep, was the couple next door.

it was fine, no one was forbidding them from dating. but it was that they decided to dress tone-on-tone, to add that it was a couple look. (you were just bitter since you were the only one still single among your friend circle)

just as you make it out of your apartment building, you are met with another. at this point, you were sure that god was just making fun of you. (no, you were just bitter and single, so everything seemed to be against you, when in reality, yes you are just hella bitter)

'what a way to start my day,' as you thought to yourself. a cup of americano was exactly what you needed to refresh your day, as if whatever happened before that cup was just a dream. but soon, you do hope that it wasn't just a dream.

getting onto your bicycle, you pedaled away from your usual route, which was headed towards campus. you were on your semester break after almost losing your sanity from the dreadful event named 'finals'. (human physiology took away at least 10 years from your lifespan)

so where were you headed to so early in the morning if you were finally on that break you very much needed? to your beloved senior, chaewon's cafe. she and her girlfriend, minju, finally opened their dream coffee shop after they had graduated. (degree who? and you were so done with chaewon bringing this up whenever she was on the verge of rage quitting during her final year)

it wasn't too long ago so the shop was still relatively new to the area. that meant they neither had customers nor employees. you figured that you could lend a helping hand for the time being as they advertise their new cafe. your neighbourhood wasn't big so everyone knew everyone, therefore things weren't going to be too hard for them. yet, you wonder how you know everyone here, and still failed to notice her around.

as you were on the way there, the owner of blue rain called, pausing the music in your ears from your headphones.

"yes, ms. owner. relax, I'm on my way, no worries that I overslept."

"that's exactly why I called. I have all the right in the world to be worried cause you quite almost drooled all over your pillow while everyone in the hall was racking their brains over the final paper."

you rolled your eyes at her constant reminder of that particular 'incident' in your first year. it was a one time thing but she still brings it up whenever she gets the chance to. and like the mom she is, you're creeped out by how she knew.

"I can see you rolling your eyes at me, child. we all know you were to repeat your subject if I didn't barge into your place."

"alright alright, I made mistakes and learned from them. I'm on my bike right now, okay? continue your nagging when I'm there, bye."

"hey-"

you ended the call before she could even say another word. knowing she was going to give you an earful, all you could do is smile to yourself. the nagging can be annoying at times, but you know chaewon only meant good for you as someone older. it feels great to know that someone cares for you no matter where they are. (you're always a brat towards her, so she would cry happy tears if she knew this is what you thought of her)

making a left turn, you arrived at a road you weren't familiar with, mainly due to the fact that it wasn't the main road you usually ride past. just how did these two find a place over here? it wasn't somewhere people would drive past, not to mention that it was sort of secluded away from foot traffic.

although with that said, there were a handful of shops and a convenience store on the corner lot. this view feels familiar yet foreign, despite it still being part of the neighbourhood you knew. while the scent of flowers invaded your senses, you slowed your speed to a halt and got down, pushing your bicycle with you while admiring the scenery this street offered.

a noodle restaurant came into sight, and a laundromat sat right across it. further in, a tailor shop greeted you with a record shop beside, making you wonder if you really did travel back in time a little from all the shops. everything was so vintage until you reached the part where the cafe was supposedly located. but before that, the florist shop, blooming potion as it read, that was two lots apart caught your eye, which you still didn't know why. (flowers were always associated with spring, hence the same hatred for it)

as you approached, the sign on the glass door read 'open' but no one seemed to be in sight. maybe the owner was in the storage room, hence the unattended empty counter. the door wasn't locked either, perhaps nothing would happen if you invited yourself in, right? (you were just dumb, it's a shop, of course you can enter if it says it's open)

you looked around, finding yourself enjoying the scent of flowers, different from how it was earlier. something felt off but you couldn't put your finger on it, it just did. as your eyes laid upon a bouquet of baby's breath, a door swung open, however it wasn't the door that led to the back room, rather the one you entered from. strange, isn't it.

"I'm so sorry, miss! I didn't expect a customer so I left for some coffee real quick."

you should've known from the way you stepped into this florist shop, from the sudden fondness towards flowers. nothing could've prepared you for this sudden encounter with her. but at that moment, you didn't know.

a young girl, a little too young to be the owner, places her cup of coffee on the counter before rushing to put on her apron. she was slightly taller than you were, and probably the most beautiful girl you've ever met.

"oh, no worries. I was just taking a look around."

"is it your first time here? I've never seen you before."

she settled down a little, before flashing you that endearing smile of hers. you knew you were a goner when you noticed how your heart swelled at the way her eyes curled up into crescents. but still, you didn't know then, you couldn't have when it didn't come to mind that it was love.

"yeah, I was headed to the cafe down the road but something made me stop by."

the way her eyes sparkle every time you spoke, the glint of curiousness and attention within those orbs. it suddenly felt a little hot for you as the tip of your ears burned up a little (and it didn't go unnoticed by the girl).

"really? then it must have been fate for you to come in! feel free to choose any flower from the store, think of it as a first time gift."

you were an introvert, hence the awkwardness around people you first met. but she made you feel comfortable within this new space. so comfortable, you don't realize you were warming up to this stranger more quickly than you do with other people. (you took a total of 3 months before actually warming up to chaewon)

"oh no no, I can't possibly just get it for free."

"I insist, I left you unattended when it was my job not to, so let me make it up to you. besides, it's just a few flowers."

the attention of hers on you made your palms sweat, not that you didn't like it. you loved it, and again you just don't realize. as well as the fact that the girl don't just look at someone with such endearment.

"well, I guess I can't deny your offer if you insist, thank you."

it was already unusual that this girl seemed too young to be the owner, let alone offering a bouquet of flowers for free. you didn't question further and just accepted her kind act. not gonna lie, your heart might have skipped a beat from the thought that this was the first flower gift you received, regardless of it from a stranger. (later on, you found out that the girl didn't offer flowers to just anyone)

before the girl came bursting through the front door, you were admiring a particular bouquet of baby's breath. you remembered and decided to go with it, figuring it would be a perfect gift for the opening of the cafe. or it could be staged as chaewon's lovely thought for her girlfriend, you just knew she would do that.

"baby's breath? you must have a special someone you love a lot."

you choked a little when you heard that. usually if it came from someone like chaewon, you'd just glare at her and punch her (not literally, your punches are of a baby kitten). but when it came from her, you didn't want her to think you have a lover.

"me? not really. I've been single my entire life, it was flattering to hear that you were offering a free bouquet."

sometimes, you wanted to smack yourself when you try to impress someone with your humor but clearly, not everyone found your jokes funny. but to the girl, you were the funniest person she has ever met. (you didn't notice at that time, the girl had a small smile of victory when she heard that you were single)

"oh, that's unexpected."

"why's that?"

"I mean, you're pretty and funny, I thought you were taken."

chaewon knew you were annoying and dumb, but she didn't know that you were this dumb to not realize that the florist girl was very clearly hitting on you. the older is so glad that this little angel found you cute for being so clueless. (fun fact, minju was this clueless of chaewon's feelings that the older had to kiss her for her to realize. perhaps that was why you clicked so well with minju)

"you know, that's what I should be saying to you."

for the first time, it was the girl's turn to feel slightly flustered, but she maintained her composure. because you looked younger than you were, she thought you were her age or a year younger. which was why, she was slightly bolder than she usually is when someone interests her. (she enjoyed watching you get flustered a little, thinking you were a cute baby then)

"thank you for the flowers, really. I hope to see you around."

you didn't know where that ounce of confidence came from but you did say that, and that had the girl stifle a giggle at your attempt. you thought you were smooth, but when you heard about this interaction on another day, it happened while you were avoiding eye contact and stumbling a little over your words. as you finally got to know, you couldn't help but just cover your face with your palms as you drown in embarrassment.

"lemon candies? you really don't have to."

"I just happened to have some with me, think of it as me trying to make your day better with some gifts too."

feeling a bit overwhelmed by the flowers, you rummaged through your pockets, pulling out a few lemon candies for the girl. well, that was part of your reasoning, the part that you were mostly interested in her played a very big role. it wasn't something extravagant but they were your favourite candies, offering them to someone means they are someone important to you.

the girl brought her palm over the candies before picking it up, placing them in her apron. you swore, that smile of hers that she gives you is so contagious, you find yourself smiling along like an idiot.

"it was a pleasure meeting you too."

"if it's okay, can I get your name?"

"hanni, and I too, look forward to seeing you around."

placing the bouquet carefully into the front basket of your bicycle, you bid farewell to the girl. while you pedaled to the cafe, you couldn't figure if your heart was thumping from it, or the thought of hanni's smile.

hanni, even her name sounds lovely. if lovely and adorable was personified, it would be her. maybe this spring season was finally getting on your good side, because it was making you feel something. what was that feeling again?

that feeling when someone is in love? yeah, that feeling.

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#hanni #pham hanni #newjeans #newjeans fluff #newjeans imagines #newjeans scenarios #newjeans x reader #new jeans x reader #hanni x reader #Spotify

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