#I have seen the past and I foresee the future

[wizzard890]

I'm very sick so I of course watched this movie about the french revolution:

I didn't expect much, it's a mostly-forgotten movie from 1949. How wrong I was. I was shaken to my core. Is it good? Oh God no. But it. Has. Everything.

A goth Robespierre who works icily on his letters while a guy is getting thumbscrewed two feet from his desk.

Lafayette hiding out in a windmill in the middle of the countryside in full dress uniform, in 1794, presumably so we the audience would believe him when he said he was a general.

A protagonist who seems to have been beamed in from an entirely different movie, who trades film noir barbs with The Woman Who Walked Out On Him Ten Years Ago only they're both wearing wigs.

A Thermidor night cameo from Napoleon, who is shot from behind with the same reverence as Christ in Ben-Hur.

Fouche telling Robespierre that he can't put a law in front of the Assembly that makes him special all time ultra dictator and Robespierre sits back on a big fancy chair with his hands on the arms like a demon and says "but I want to. :)"

A special aside where a nightmarishly butch Saint-Just makes sure we the audience know that Robespierre Isn't Into Women but that he, Saint-Just, crushes puss 24/7.

Thermidor but it's this:

and honestly I can't think of a more worthy 90 minutes of your life.

Oh also the actual meat of the plot is that Robespierre's Death Note has gone missing. His dog helps them find it.

[untimelyambition]

OHOHOHOHOHO I FUCKING LOVE GENERATION LOSS

[luveline]

𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

you and miguel accidentally move in together when the girls in the spider society dorms are mean to you —a ficlet featuring a reluctantly infatuated miguel and a carefree, ditzy spider-girl. pre across the spider-verse but contains spoilers. requested here. fem!reader, 1.5k

cw mature themes. mdni

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You're laying in Miguel's bed when he gets back to his dorm room. Or, just his room. He'll be living here for the foreseeable future. It took him some time to calibrate to seeing you among his things, in his bed, but worst of all without your suit —it's like seeing you naked. It catches him off guard every time. 

You look oddly quiet, though you aren't asleep. He knows that doesn't make any sense, that quiet isn't something you can see, but without your suit it's like stripping back a layer of chaos. In a pyjama pack from some Nueva York department store, you've little cartoon characters on your shorts, and a bigger one across your chest, the lilac purple background pretty against your skin. Your hand is tucked under your face, your phone in the other. You're swiping through a match three game with a small panda mascot that cheers, "Wā sāi!" every time you clear a line. 

You smile and click another button. Miguel bites back his own, letting the door close with a metallic shushing. 

"Hey," you say, without looking up. "Are you okay?" 

"Why wouldn't I be okay?"

"I thought asking that would get me a better answer than, 'how are you?'" 

"I'm fine." 

You laugh under your breath as he makes a beeline for his closet. "See," you say, like it's very funny, "what a useless question."

"How are you?" he asks.

He turns off his suit. Abruptly naked, Miguel is past caring if you see him. He wasn't shy to begin with, and it's nothing you haven't seen now. 

Finding you a room to stay in away from the mean girls in your dormitory turned to letting you stay with him until he had a chance to find one, which then turned to you sleeping in his bed because you'd already kissed, so what use was having you on a futon? Which turned to kissing in bed, which turned to other things. Peace, for once. Sweaty hours spent with his armed wrapped around your shoulders, your front, his face pressed into your neck. The hours after, your hands in his hair, your lilting murmuring against the shell of his ear. 

He didn't mean for it to happen.

He can't say he regrets it, either. Though it scares him. 

"Cariño?" he prompts, stepping into a pair of sweatpants.

"Sorry, what did you say?" you ask, setting your phone down on the bedside table. 

He can't be mad at the phone for distracting you. That's the whole reason he got it for you, purple and shiny and foldable, something he knew would draw and keep your attention when he's not around. You're having a hard time making friends, and there's not always stuff for you to do within the Society. It was a gift for himself as well as you, he wanted to know you weren't sitting alone in your room (his room) with nothing to do. 

"How are you?"

"I made you a charm for you phone," you say. 

You insisted he have a phone too so you could text him. He groaned, complained, grumbled, but it is the very best part of his day when he gets to turn on his stupid pink phone and see you've texted him a photo of the bedroom floor, one of your crafts in front of you, a socked foot and naked ankle in the corner of the picture. 

"That's not how you are," he says after he's pulled on a t-shirt. Miguel treks back into the main part of the room and sits at the bottom of the bed. He pulls your feet into his lap because nobody can tell him not to, quick to press a thumb into the arch of your foot. You're wearing fuzzy socks. "That's what you did. How are you? You didn't come and see me today, what's with that?" 

"Sorry, I made such a huge mess earlier I had to clean and it took hours and by the time I was done I thought I better shower." Your smile is magnetic. 

"It doesn't have to be spotless." 

"It's not my room. I'm not an asshole." 

Miguel's not used to this… anymore. And things are different with you than they'd been before: you know him for who he is, this version of him, the mean, short-tempered, spiky him, where Gabri and her mother had known someone else. Still him, still real, but different. His head aches whenever he remembers —and he remembers all of the time— but being with you helps that. You're not her, and you don't have to be. 

You know Miguel at his worst, and you like him anyway. It has to count for something. 

"It's not not your room," he says carefully, hand running up your leg to your knee. He strokes back down, a lazy back and forth. 

"I know I've overstayed," you say, "but that's your fault."

"That's my fault." 

Miguel pulls your legs down enough to make your head flop off of his pillow, hoping for a disgruntled grunt or a whined, "Miguel." You stay flopped on your back and don't say anything, to his displeasure. He sighs and pulls you bodily into his lap, scooping you up with little energy expelled. 

"I forget how strong you are," you say, in his lap like a princess carry, eyelashes kissing the skin under your brows as you look up at him. 

"How can you forget?" 

"I don't know, especially when you toss me around like a half full sack of flour. I think I have a bruise from your hand last night," you say, pulling your leg up across the other, knee away from him where you're in his lap to show him the underside of your thigh. Miguel tries not to blush at the memory, but the ghost of a dork at his core knows how salacious it is to have your girlfriend in your lap with her shorts pushed down, showcasing skin you bruised during a particularly rough moment. "Can you see? It feels sore." 

A mottling of wine-stain contusion in the shape of his hand indeed takes station at the base of your thigh. It's not bad. If you had better enhancements you'd have healed by now, but your particular spider wasn't anything special.

"Perdóname," he says under his breath, brushing over it lightly with his thumb. 

"It doesn't matter, don't be sorry, I was just wondering if it was really real." You let your leg drop heavily on top of his. Nothing but adoring shines in your eyes as you smile. "I don't care, Miguel."

"I didn't mean to–" 

"I know." 

He lifts his chin as you sit up in his lap. You kiss his neck, his jaw, and the skin below his ear, your smile audible as you murmur, "I liked it. I kind of like having the bruise, too. Don't feel bad." 

He'd felt the opposite of bad in the moment. "You're sure I didn't hurt you?" he asks quietly. 

He doesn't look down, can't, not until he knows. You comb your fingers through the hair at the back of his neck. "I'm sure," you say. "As if you could." 

"Oh, is that how it is?" he asks, trying hard not to laugh. 

"That's so how it is." 

He finally faces you again, pretending like he might gear up for a fight. He holds your gaze, brows set, eyes severe. "Show me the charm you made me," he demands. 

You laugh through your nose and climb out of his lap. "You're gonna love it. It looks like a jellyfish." 

He can't imagine how having a jellyfish charm hanging from his phone will go down with the girls, but he finds he doesn't mind. Having something you made with your own two hands is too special to pass up. 

“I made one for myself, too,” you say, digging through your box of beads to find the charms you made. You turn around holding both to your chest, your pride endearing.

“Yours isn't on your phone.”

You flicker with an uncharacteristic bashfulness. “Well, I only wanted to have them if we both had them, and I don't know if you’re okay with having one. It’s sort of loud.”

“If loud bothered me, you’d know by now,” he teases. He holds out his hand, gesturing when you don’t take it. “Come on, come back. Show me how to put it on my phone case.”

All his added sweetness is worth it to feel your smile as you clamber back into the space between his thighs and duck your face into his neck, hugging him quickly, arms thrown around his neck. “You’re the best,” you say quietly. 

He really doesn’t feel like it, but hearing you say it is a load off. He relaxes under your weight, thinking your shared cohabitation might be one of the best accidents he's ever had. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed!! if you did and you have the time, please think about reblogging <3

[lowkeychenle]

See My Sea [ZCL] (M)

Description: You never expected your lab partner to be the captain of the basketball team...or a decent human being, but you get proved wrong twice. Despite a rocky past of your own, you find yourself falling for him faster than you thought. Maybe, with his help, you can finally find your way home and see your sea.

A/N: this is inspired by Marine Turtle sort of ??? it just gave me these vibes oops. HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!!!!!! I hope u take this fic with u into 2024 lol

Genre: Fluff/Smut/Angst (College AU where Chenle is captain of the basketball team like he DESERVES)

Content Warnings: SLOW BURN! Drinking, alcohol, intoxication, some instances of friends being shitty, verbally abusive ex-boyfriend appearances, mentions/instances of anxiety and insecurity, a panic attack Smut warnings: This might be some of my mildest smut omg, usage of pet names 'baby' and 'sunshine,' oral (f & m receiving), slight dirty talk? there's not much rip

Word Count: 20,040

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x fem!Reader (feat. Mark & Jisung, a male OC named Woojin, and three female OCs, Soobin, Jiyoon, & Heewon)

Juliet's Masterlist | Tell me what you think? :)

Taglist: @carelessshootanonymous @thisisnotjacinta @soberhani @fullsunstrawberry @midmourn

“I think your answer’s wrong,” the boy next to you says, leaning over your shoulder to look.

You blink in frustration, already hating the new seating arrangement your college professor forced upon you. When you turn to give him your best glare, you hesitate for a brief moment when you see the genuine concern on his face.

His black hair is draped like a curtain over his forehead, just a bit too long. Soft brown eyes stare back at you, unblinking for several seconds as he scans over your expression. His lips are slightly parted as if he wants to continue, but isn’t sure what to say.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “It’s just…if you get it wrong, it kind of affects me now, too.”

“Why would it affect you?” You recoil and slide your paper farther from him.

“This…is a lab.” He frowns. “And that makes us lab partners for the foreseeable future.”

“Ah, great.” You close your eyes and drop your head into your hands.

“I’m trying to help,” he replies.

“Well, I actually prefer to work alone.”

You don’t know exactly where your snippiness is coming from, but you don’t appreciate this random ass guy trying to correct your work. He could’ve at least introduced himself first instead of immediately selecting the douchebag category.

“I don’t think we really have a choice.” He taps his fingers on top of the table. “Sorry if I pissed you off, I was just…”

He clicks his tongue, presses his lips into a thin line, and his eyebrows jolt up quickly before he turns away from you and back to his own work. You take a deep breath, your heart sinking at the idea of snapping at him when he didn’t deserve it.

It’s taken you a long time to get used to people genuinely trying to help you, and your brain sometimes doesn’t get the memo that not everything is a derogatory comment.

“Sorry,” you say softly, inhaling deeply. “You were being nice. And I’m being a bitch.”

“I wouldn’t use that word.” He snorts as he scribbles down some words on his paper.

“Seriously?”

“I don’t like using it in a bad way.” He sets his pencil down and runs his fingers through his hair to push it back.

You laugh. “Don’t men find things like that funny?”

“What kind of guys are you talking to?” The boy scrunches up his nose and shakes his head.

“I…” You pause, pursing your lips. That’s a good question. “But really, I am sorry. I hope we can rewind and work together.”

“Luckily for you, I don’t hold grudges.” He grins and holds his hand out to you. “I’m Chenle. I’m a senior getting a degree in music theory and I’m the captain of the basketball team.”

You think about the information for a second—he seems like a nice person from what you’ve seen thus far, but the basketball team makes him lose a couple points. Most boys in college sports don’t have the best reputations.

Your palm meets his as you take his greeting. “I’m (Y/N). I’m also a senior, but my degree is in Fine Arts. And I’m the captain of embarrassing myself and my friends.”

He chuckles at that one before brandishing his paper over to you.

“What?” you ask.

“I’m gonna help you figure out the right answer.” Chenle beckons you closer.

You hesitate for a moment, but eventually decide nothing will happen in the middle of your science lab. Scooting your chair over to his, you allow him to lean toward you. You ignore the nervousness gathering as the scent of his cologne invades your nostrils. It smells smoky, but in an artificial way. You doubt the man has ever touched anything bad for him in his entire life.

“This one is easy to fuck up,” he murmurs, his pencil scratching against the paper as he leads you through it.

You attempt to pay attention, but as much as you hate to admit it, the smell of him is intoxicating and him being near you has every single one of your senses on edge. Sweat starts to form on your skin, and you almost curse under your breath.

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, looks back at the paper, and then his gaze rests back on you, like whatever he saw during his first sweep caught his attention.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

You blink, frowning at him. “Why are you asking me that?”

“Uh.” He wets his lips, his cheeks reddening slightly beneath fluorescent lighting. “You’re staring at me instead of the answer I’m giving you.”

Embarrassment rushes through you like a wildfire in a dry forest, and you immediately snatch the assignment away from him and move your chair away. Disbelief wracks your body, because you only realize at that moment that he’s right—you were much more interested in his facial features and the softness of his skin instead of the only reason you let him around you in the first place.

It’s been a long time since anyone has distracted you in that way. All it does is make you want to run away at full speed, but there’s still a few minutes of class left.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to offend you or anything.”

“Just…forget it.” You shake your head. “I’ll figure this out so you don’t lose points.”

“And then what?” He raises an eyebrow at you.

“Huh?”

“It’s not only this assignment.” Chenle taps his fingers against the desk. “It’s all of them. And I don’t want to be a dick, but I’m kind of used to people staring at me.”

You laugh incredulously, dropping your head into your palms. “The universe has fucked me.”

He doesn’t respond, seemingly waiting for you to continue whatever’s on your mind.

“That was kinda douchey.” You fidget with your pencil.

“It’s not douchey if it’s true.” He scoffs. “And I haven’t even done anything to you, so I don’t understand where this hostility has come from after being around me for ten minutes.”

“I just don’t like—”

“Men?” he interjects.

“You.” 

“Okay, well.” He rolls his eyes, inhaling deeply. “I don’t know what your problem is. Did I breathe incorrectly in your direction? I’m trying to help you and you’re not being nice at all. You were the one staring at me, I feel like I should remind you of that.”

“I was not star—”

“Alright, class, your lab assignments have been finalized. You’ll be working with your partner for the rest of the semester, and if there are any issues, you’re adults. Figure it out. The first set of problems will be due tomorrow at the start of class,” the teacher interrupts your thoughts, and leaves both you and Chenle gaping.

“Professor, I have a basketball game tonight—”

“Well, then you’d better finish the worksheet early, Mr. Zhong,” she insists.

“For fuck’s sake,” Chenle murmurs under his breath, running his fingers through his hair. Stress melds through his expression as his brows pinch together, and it almost makes you feel bad for him.

You know next to nothing about basketball. In fact, you weren’t 100% aware your school even had a team.

After he takes a second to calm down, he turns to you. “What are you doing for lunch?”

“I meet my friends every day.” You shrug.

“Oh, great. I’m coming with you.” He starts shoving things into his bag, not giving you a second to comprehend what he’s saying.

“It wasn’t an invitation,” you say.

“I’m not failing because of you.” Chenle sets his bag down on the table. “I don’t know what I did to give you such a bad impression, but you haven’t done much better yourself, okay? The sooner we get this done, the sooner I can worry about getting to practice on time.”

“Practice? I thought it was a game.”

He stares at you blankly, blinking slowly. “I…I practice before my games.” His tone is sharp, as if he expects you to know that already.

“You’re the captain.”

“No shit.” Irritation sparks in his gaze. “Which means I have to be good. And prepared.”

“Now who’s being a dick?” you shoot back. “Am I supposed to just know everything about you already?”

“This…is going to be fucking impossible.” He massages his forehead and takes a deep breath. “We’ll try to finish it in the next ten minutes before class ends, then.”

Spoiler alert, you don’t finish by the end of class, which means, unfortunately for you, you drag Chenle in tow with you to lunch, where your three friends wait for you. The girls are distracted in their conversation as you approach, and you already know what their reaction will be.

“(Y/N), you’re finally here—who’s this?” Alarm flares in Jiyoon’s brown eyes as she glances back behind you at Chenle as if you don’t know he’s there.

“You don’t know him?” Heewon asks. “Pretty sure that’s Zhong Chenle, you know, the captain of the basketball team. He’s friends with your boyfriend.”

“I’ve never seen him before.”

“Yeah, he’s right here.” You nudge Soobin’s arm so she’ll scoot over. “So if you could maybe not act like he’s not.”

“Why is he with you?” Soobin asks.

“It’s not by choice,” you grumble, dramatically gesturing to the seat next to you. “Did you guys eat yet?”

“I’m invading,” Chenle says. “I’ll go buy lunch, alright? Pizza good for everyone?”

“What? You don’t have to—”

“Just answer the question,” he says.

“Pizza’s good.” Jiyoon grins. “Thanks, Chenle.”

He presses his lips together, grabs his wallet out of his backpack, nods at you, and then heads in the opposite direction. You know the second he’s out of earshot, the girls won’t let this go. They apparently know more about him than you do, which isn’t all that surprising.

Jiyoon started dating Jisung a few weeks back, and while you’re happy for your friend (and the fact her boyfriend isn’t the worst man ever), you could never justify wasting your valuable time on anyone else right now.

“Yeah, just walk in with Zhong Chenle and don’t warn us first—”

“I didn’t even know he was a big deal. Or that he’d be coming for lunch,” you defend yourself. “We’re lab partners, and apparently, we’re being forced to work together.”

“He’s not a bad guy,” Jiyoon says. “From what I’ve heard from Jisung, he’s really passionate about basketball and stuff. So like, he takes it seriously. He’s not an ass.”

“That’s not what I’ve experienced.” You roll your eyes, wishing more than anything they would stop before they’re ahead.

“I get you’re in your ‘I hate men era’ or whatever, and I respect it, but you’re allowed to be friends with good guys. You’ll be hanging out around the team soon, anyway. Jisung wants to get our friend groups together.”

“Maybe Jisung isn’t awful, but you know how sports guys are.” You almost shiver involuntarily at the thought.

“Jisung wouldn’t hang around assholes, (Y/N),” Heewon interjects. “You haven’t met him. The kid’s an angel. You morph into the people you’re around, and if he was around dicks, he’d act like one. Or have a single red flag, at least.”

“And, to be honest, some of the team has been mentioned in some sketchy situations, but I’ve heard good things about Chenle, Jisung, and Mark. They’re not man-whores, and they—”

“Glad to hear that’s a criteria for being a good guy.” Chenle’s voice nearly sends Soobin’s soul out of her body.

Her cheeks and the tips of her ears turn bright red, and she quickly mutters out an apology.

He puts the box in the middle of the table, a small chuckle passing by his full lips as he takes a seat next to you. “No worries. I’ll pass the message to Mark. He’ll get a good laugh out of it, considering he’s probably got the highest body count on the team.”

You shift away from him slightly, this topic of conversation not entirely helping your situation with him.

“Mark?” Jiyoon snorts. “Mark Lee?”

“Surprisingly, I don’t know any other Mark.” Chenle grins. “But not every guy is vocal about how much he gets laid. Girls throw themselves at him—”

You tense, wanting nothing more than for the conversation to stop. Chenle cuts himself off, a minuscule glance in your direction making his eyebrows pinch before his poker face returns.

“Anyway, pizza.” He clears his throat, gesturing to the box.

“Wow. Mark Lee.” Heewon runs her tongue over her teeth. “And what does a girl have to do to get on that donation list?”

Jiyoon elbows her, nodding in your direction. An odd silence fills the table before Soobin opens the box and grabs the first slice. Your appetite has oddly disappeared, and none of your friends seem to realize it.

Chenle continues his conversation with Jiyoon—something about Jisung and the practice dates—but while he does that, his pen scratches across the paper on the table in front of you, and when he slides it in your direction, it’s almost unnoticeable.

you should eat

You nearly scoff, grabbing a pencil out of your bag to write your response while your friends still cluelessly converse.

not hungry

“You know, we’re having a party after the game,” Chenle mentions. “You guys should come. Assuming we win, it’ll be time for celebration.”

“Oh, you’ll win.” Jiyoon’s eyes widen. “I’ve seen clips of games online and stuff. Mostly Jisung’s. But if you’re all that good, I can’t imagine you’d lose.”

“Glad to see you’re as obsessed with him as he is with you.” He chuckles and runs his fingers through his hair. “You should all go.”

His gaze rests on you, and Soobin laughs outwardly.

“(Y/N) doesn’t go to parties.”

“Why not?” He frowns.

“It’s a long story,” you interject before any of your friends can spill your secrets. “But maybe it’s time for a change. I’ll go. If Jiyoon is going and if she promises not to ditch me for Jisung.”

“Oh, please, you haven’t been to a party since before Wooj—” Heewon stops herself with a hand over her mouth. She cringes as your chest deflates.

Leave it to your friends to rehash old wounds. You already had a shitty day between your random argument with Chenle, him tagging along with you for lunch, and now Heewon is basically telling him your secrets buried deep.

“Um,” you say, sighing. “We have an assignment to do. Do you want to go to the library or something?” When you turn to look at Chenle, he’s already gathering his things and shoving his materials in his bag.

“Yeah, sure.” His eyes scan over the table. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“(Y/N), I didn’t—”

“Not now, Heewon.” You shake your head, slinging your bag over your shoulder and heading off without another word.

It’s been many, many months since Woojin was in your life. The man who essentially tore your life apart little by little until there wasn’t anything of the real you left. You were a shell of who you used to be, and it took you much too long to realize it. Hell, you’re not 100% sure if you’ve even brought yourself back from that brink. It’s hard to figure out who you are when the person who’s supposed to love you not only drags you down to the bottom of the ocean, but buries you beneath the sand.

But none of your friends get it. They see who you are now—a mask of confidence shielding the gaping open wound—and assume you’re normal again.

Healing isn’t a straight line. You don’t wake up one day and decide to be okay, and admittedly, there are some mornings that are better than others. For most, you find it hard to come up with a reason to pull yourself out of bed.

Chenle follows you silently as you walk across campus for the library. He walks side-by-side with you and stops once he sees the cafe come into view.

“Hey, I’m gonna get some coffee,” he says. “Come with?”

“Uh, yeah. We can just do the work in there, if that’s okay.”

He gives you a half smile and nods, gesturing toward the building for you to lead the way. Once you make it to the door, he opens it for you. You frown, but walk in regardless.

“I’ll get it. What do you usually order?” he asks.

“Oh, no, that’s okay.” You wave him off. “I can get my own—”

“Tell me.” His tone is soft, yet firm, as if you don’t really have any other option but to tell him what coffee you want.

With a sigh, you tell him your order and he walks off with a smug smile on his face. You set all of your stuff up on one of the tables, deciding which questions you need to work on first while you wait for Chenle.

He places a cup in front of you before clasping both hands around his own. Standing there, he doesn’t move until you look up at him, wondering why the hell he isn’t sitting down.

“Can we start over?” he asks. “We clearly got off on the wrong foot, and I don’t want you to hate the entire semester if you’ve got to work with me.”

You pause, clearing your throat. “I’d prefer it that way, I think. If we started over, I mean. I was kind of a bitch, and it wasn’t even your fault, I just…have some issues with trusting people.”

“I noticed.” He chuckles, a grin plastering on his face as he takes his seat across from you. “And I still don’t like that word.”

“Sorry. I was being an ass. Is that better?”

“Yeah, it is. You were an ass.” He sips his drink.

You press your lips together to stop your laugh, but it doesn’t prevent your eyes from rolling.

“And I’m sorry, too. If I made you uncomfortable earlier. Or if I did, indeed, do something to make you hate me randomly.” His fingertips tap against the table. “It really wasn’t my intention.”

“It’s not you. At all.” You scoff to yourself, flipping through the stack of papers before you. “I don’t want to talk about it. But I’ll try to remind myself people are innocent until proven guilty.”

“So…you’ll come tonight?” Chenle hesitates briefly, wetting his lips. “You could come to the game, too. I’m sure Jiyoon would like someone to sit with besides Jisung’s parents.”

“I know nothing about basketball,” you reply, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“Well, yeah, but you could always learn. And now you have friends on the team, so it doesn’t matter if you know or not.” He grabs the first assignment to look at it, pretending as if your answer doesn’t impact him.

You think about it for a moment. After all, maybe you were wrong about him—maybe he’s not some awful guy, and you were wrong to assume that after knowing him for five minutes. The longer you spend time with him, the more genuine he seems. You could use more friends, but you can’t help but wonder if Chenle is the type of guy you should entertain.

Woojin had you fucked up. Between the sports teams and friend groups and everything that went wrong with him, it was so hard to even imagine being friends with Chenle or any of the other guys on the basketball team.

“I’ll think about it,” you mutter. “Don’t get your hopes up about the game, but I’ll be at the party for sure.”

“Party’s a strong word, by the way. It’s just the team and our close friends, so it won’t be like…a rager or anything.”

You nod, chewing the inside of your cheek. “Alright. We should get started before we run out of time again.”

You weren’t planning on going to the game. Not in the slightest. But when the time got closer and closer to seven, you realized there was an odd urge within you that made you want to go. You made the split second decision to text Jiyoon and tell her to pick you up.

Jiyoon brought you a shirt to wear—a simple school T-shirt that said the basketball team’s name on it—and insisted you change before the two of you left. You did as she said, and by the time you got to the gym, you were almost regretting your decision.

You and Jiyoon sat in the bottom row right in the middle. There goes the opportunity to pretend you weren’t there. Maybe he wouldn’t see you. He’ll be too focused on the game, and he won’t even give you a second glance. You’re not sure why the idea of him knowing you’re here makes you so God damn sweaty, but you choose to ignore it.

“What’s wrong with you?” Jiyoon asks, nudging your arm.

“Huh? Nothing.” You shake your head. “I’m good.”

She clicks her tongue. “I’ve been your friend for years, (Y/N). You look nervous.”

“I don’t think I should really be here, I guess, like…I was an ass to him earlier, and now I’m sitting here like I know what I’m watching and like I belong here when he probably doesn’t even like me at all—”

“Dude, you’re rambling,” she cuts you off, placing her palm on your shoulder. “You said he was the one who told you to come. So I don’t think being unwelcome is your problem. Everything’s gonna be fine! I promise. I give you full permission to stare at Jisung the whole time if you have to.”

“He’s not my type.”

“Is anyone at this point?”

“I…” You purse your lips. “I guess you’re right.”

You’re surprised to see the seats fill up quickly, and despite Jiyoon only dating Jisung for a few weeks, she seems really friendly with both of his parents as they sit down in the two spots next to her. Jiyoon leans close to you.

“The couple that just sat down next to Jisung’s parents are Chenle’s parents. Ji and Chenle have been friends since they were really young, I guess,” Jiyoon explains.

Curiosity gets the best of you, and when you look at them, you try to figure out which one he resembles the most. His mother turns and meets your gaze, and you quickly avert it as your face burns. What the hell are you doing?

You wait in anxious silence with Jiyoon until the game begins, and your eyes immediately seek out Chenle. At first, you think you’re looking for Jisung so you can point him out to Jiyoon, but you’re still watching the boys enter the court long after Jisung is already out.

When Chenle makes it out on the court, the wide smile on his face takes you off-guard. There’s no denying the truth—he’s attractive. That’s the extent of what you know about him at this point, but you see plenty of attractive men every day. It’s not like they’ve ever garnered your attention in a way that made you want to watch them.

Unlike earlier, his hair is part down the middle now, probably from running around in practice and preparing for the game. He runs his fingers through it as he walks up to Jisung. The taller man was already standing with their other friend, who you can only assume is Mark. Chenle’s jersey has his last name printed in big letters on the back, along with the number 30.

You try not to study him, but somehow he’s like a damn magnet. No wonder he said he was used to people staring at him.

Jisung glances once in your direction, and then he nudges Chenle and gives him a nearly non-existent nod. He turns, and the second he sees you, his brows jump up in some sort of surprise. Then he grins at you.

“You’re being weird,” Jiyoon mentions, breaking you out of your trance.

“Huh? How am I being weird? He looked at me.”

“Yeah…because he invited you. And you’re here.” She snorts, running her fingers through her hair. “Speaking of which, I think he’s coming over here.”

Your eyes widen, and your head shoots up just in time to see Chenle jogging over to you. You have to crane your neck upward to look at him when he’s right in front of you, and you’re sure the shock on your face is what causes laughter to drop past his lips.

He pulls a simple bracelet off his wrist—one made with blue and gold thread—and holds it out to you. “Wear this for me?”

You blink up at him. “Why?”

“If you wear it and we win, you’re our good luck charm,” he states simply.

Your cheeks burn (hopefully unnoticeably) as you gently take it out of his palm. Your fingertips brush against his skin despite how hard you tried to avoid touching him, and once it’s completely in your hand, he backs away from you as Jiyoon helps you tighten it around your wrist.

“Are we gonna—” Jiyoon starts.

“Say nothing,” you cut her off. “Not a single word about that.”

She giggles to herself. When the game is about to begin, Jiyoon leans forward, hyperfocused on Jisung and the way he carries himself. You want to make fun of her for it, but you know she’ll come back tenfold with jokes about Chenle.

“Also,” Jiyoon whispers, getting closer to you without removing her gaze from the court. “He was totally fucking with you. He just wanted you to wear it. They haven’t lost a game this entire season, so.”

“Why would he do that?” you ask.

This time, she does look at you. She clasps her hands together and stares expectantly.

“Oh, come on. Don’t be ridiculous.” You scoff.

“Dude. His parents are five feet away and he just asked you to be his good luck charm. For a game everyone already knows they’re going to win.” She shakes her head. “Maybe he’ll be good for you.”

“It’s been a day. One day. And I didn’t like him at all for most of it.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t usually like any man on the first meeting, so cut him some slack.” She pats your knee. “But also, the game’s starting, so watch.”

Honestly, you’re not sure what you were expecting. It’s been a long time since you’ve been to a sporting event—especially so for a man, but you try to convince yourself you’re here to spend time with Jiyoon.

But you have to admit, watching Chenle weave around the court is intriguing. He moves with unmatched grace. It looks effortless despite the amount of work you know goes into it. You fiddle with the bracelet on your wrist, chewing on your bottom lip as you concentrate on the way he blocks shots from guys much taller or how he never misses when he passes the ball.

“Told you he was good,” Jiyoon says.

“Sh.” You wave her off.

At one point, Chenle attempts a shot from the middle of the court. You’re hanging onto the details like a lifeline, afraid to even blink and miss something. Much to your surprise, your heart thuds in your chest.

And when the ball goes straight into the net, something launches you to your feet next to Jiyoon as you cheer. Thankfully, the entire section stood, so you didn’t look ridiculous by yourself, but Chenle looks over at you, almost like he’s checking if you saw the points he scored.

You didn’t realize how wide the smile on your face was until you made eye contact with him. Clearing your throat, you brush off your jeans and sit back down in your seat.

“Come on,” Jiyoon whispers. “He’s like…ugh. You should see where it goes.”

Your face burns. “I just like sports, Ji, okay?”

“You dirty liar.” She snorts. “You guys are lab partners anyway, so good luck trying to avoid him. He’s a good guy, he plays sports, he’s smart as hell, and I heard he can sing, actually—”

“I get it,” you grumble. “I’m not interested.”

“You just screamed and cheered when he made the half-court shot. You’re interested.” Jiyoon laughs. “Whatever happens…just let yourself have it, okay? Have a good time. You deserve it.”

Chenle’s team absolutely dominated the other one. They barely scored a couple points the entirety of the game. He didn’t have time to talk to you right when the game finished, as he went back to the locker rooms with the team, but you figured you’d see him at the party anyway.

Mark, Chenle, and Jisung rent a house together near the school, so that’s where their get-togethers take place. He didn’t lie when he said it was more of an intimate get together—only a handful of people were there when you arrived. As much as you would deny looking for Chenle, you spent half an hour doing so, scanning the room back and forth to find his presence, and you were completely lost. On the bright side, Jisung was also MIA, meaning Jiyoon stuck by your side in the kitchen as you made yourself a drink.

You sigh quietly to yourself, the sound almost lost in the music from the living room as you brace your palm on the counter.

“You good?” Jiyoon asks.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been to a party,” you remind her. “You know what happened last time. It just feels…out of place, I guess.”

“Yeah, well, nothing’s gonna happen like last time,” your friend reassures you. “Regardless of who it could be, the guys would never be okay with something like that.”

You tap your fingers, resuming your scan of the room. “They’re not even here.”

“(Y/N).” Jiyoon’s tone catches you off-guard, almost like it’s a bit sharp and pricking at your skin. “I know you don’t know them, but they’re good, okay? They’d never let anything happen to anyone. Let alone someone like you.”

You tilt your cup to your lips, taking a big sip of the fruit punch. When you set it back down, you make eye contact with Chenle, his back pressed against the door frame with his arms over his chest. Your breath hitches at the sight of him. His hair is damp, forehead exposed as the strands stick to the sides of his face. He wears a simple black T-shirt, but something about the way it fits him has every logical thought racing out of your head.

You hated feeling this way. Like you were intimidated by him and the softness of his presence. He made your palms sweat and your mind whirl.

“I’m gonna go find Jisung,” Jiyoon speaks up, bolting past Chenle before you can stop her.

“I didn’t think you’d come.” Chenle pushes himself off the wall, walking over to the counter opposite of you, gaze soft as he looks you over. He hones in on the bracelet on your wrist before flicking his eyes back to yours.

“I probably won’t stay long.” You wet your lips and sigh. “I just feel off.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asks.

“With you?” You blink at him.

He chuckles, running his fingers through his damp hair. “Yeah, with me. There’s a swing out on the patio if you’d feel better away from people. It’s kinda stuffy in here.”

“It’s your party, though,” you remind him. “You just won a game, Captain. That’s a big deal.”

“My lucky charm was there.” He glances down at your wrist again.

Your cheeks burn, and you clasp your hands together behind your back. “The patio sounds nice.”

He gives a small, satisfied grin, and makes his way toward the door to your left. He opens it and waits. You get the hint, shuffling past him to the backyard. His scent—a graceful blend of vanilla and sandalwood—wafts toward you, fresh and strong. Once again, your face reddens at the realization of how much attention you’re giving him.

The porch is wooden, the slats beneath your feet slightly creaking as you walk to the swing. You watch Chenle closely as he follows you, equally relieved and disappointed by how much distance he leaves between the two of you.

You sit in a comfortable silence for a moment, you crossing your legs and Chenle using his feet to propel forward and backward without ever leaving the ground.

Breathing in the night air, you relish in how fresh it feels filling your lungs. Inside, your worries swarmed you, but out here, you’re alright.

Chenle closes his eyes and leans his head back, allowing you a moment or two to appreciate more of him. Your gaze sweeps down his face and over his neck, and you wonder why you’re even paying attention to such things.

“Why don’t you like parties?” he asks.

“It’s not that I don’t like them.” You shrug and pick at the seams on your jeans. “A couple bad experiences just…makes you weary, you know?”

“Sure.” He pauses. “Thanks for coming, by the way. To the game. And the party, too. We didn’t really start off on the right foot, but I’m glad we didn’t leave it there.”

“Oh, speaking of which.” You push your wrist toward him, the blue and gold thread wrapped around it reflecting the light from the opposite side of the window. “You can have this back now.”

“What’ll I do without my good luck charm?” He quirks an eyebrow at you.

You chuckle quietly and roll your eyes. “Jiyoon told me you guys don’t lose either way. I don’t think you need me.”

He tentatively wraps his fingers around your arm. Your gaze darts to his, the breath caught in your throat. You hadn’t expected the warmth from his touch, or the way you swore sparks just whizzed through your skin.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, giving you a gentle tug. “I’ll take it off if that’s what you want.”

You shuffle closer, and without much thought behind it, you’re nearly pressing against him, with your feet planted on the opposite side of his lap. You’re somehow not touching him still, but you’re engulfed in the body heat radiating off of him and the smell of his cologne.

He places your hand on top of your knee and twirls the bracelet around until he finds the knot. “Was it someone I know?” he asks, concentration taking over his tone.

“Who?”

“The guy that somehow convinced you not to go to parties anymore.” Chenle doesn’t look at you when he says it, he continues working away at the thread on your wrist.

“I don’t think so,” you reply, gulping as you pull away until the bracelet is out of his reach. “Not sure you really hang out with that crowd.”

He rests his hand on your knee, his face scrunched as he debates with himself what he should say. “I don’t know the full story, but nobody should control you. Especially not some dude who clearly is a prick. Whatever habits you picked up from him, I really hope you’re able to forget them and be who you want to be.”

“Thanks,” you mutter, not expecting the surge of emotions to hit you until your eyes start welling. You laugh at yourself, shaking your head and taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry. For class today. I’ve learned it’s always better to assume the worst.”

“I noticed.” He smiles, tapping his fingers.

His feet keep the swing moving even with you positioned over him like this. You try to pretend you don’t feel the movement of his sweats against your jeans. What the hell’s gotten into you today?

“Keep the bracelet,” he says. “Can I give you my number? In case you ever need anything?”

You grab your phone out of your back pocket, unlock it, and hand it to him. “Just send yourself a text.” You lean closer while you watch his thumbs dance over the keyboard. His shoulder brushes yours, and when he finishes his text, he looks over at you.

You’re much nearer to him than you anticipated, gulping once you see the swirls of brown in his irises. He wets his lips, fingers splaying out further around your knee. Shifting toward you, he turns ever-so-slightly, his face only inches away from yours.

You’ve known him for less than twenty-four hours, but somehow, you find yourself wanting to kiss him. Maybe it’s from the way his full lips are parted, fresh mint on his breath, or perhaps it’s that odd craving of intimacy you’ve missed since you left Woojin in the first place.

“If you need anything,” he whispers. “Anything at all. Call me, okay?”

You nod, entranced by the little details of him that come together to make him who he is. The cologne. His finally-dried hair parted in the middle. The softness of his touch. His sympathetic stare that doesn’t feel at all like pity, but you can’t place how someone you just met could actually care about you.

“Sorry, for some reason, I just really, really want to—” He’s interrupted by the door opening, the music loud enough to make both of you freeze as if you’re doing something wrong.

“(Y/N), are you out here? Jiyoon said she left you alo—oh.” Soobin halts as soon as she sees you and Chenle. She blinks a few times, like that’ll change the sight in front of her.

“Where’s Heewon?” you ask.

“She went upstairs with Mark.”

Chenle snorts, scratching his forehead. “Girl knows what she wants, huh?”

“She’s not shy,” you reply.

“Are you ready to go?” Soobin asks. “Pretty sure Jiyoon plans on staying with Jisung, so I’m ready if you are.”

Disappointment floods your chest at the thought of cutting your conversation with Chenle short. You look at him to ask what he’d prefer.

“I’ll see you in class tomorrow?”

He smiles softly. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

You not-so-gracefully swing your legs over his lap to reach the ground, stopping once you’re on your feet to glance back at him. “You sure you don’t want the bracelet back?”

“I like how it looks on you,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s all yours.”

You give him one last smile, and then you walk past Soobin inside. She leads you through the house to the front door, and it’s only when you’re in her car that she looks at you expectantly.

“What was that?” she asks you.

“What was what?”

She glares at you. “Oh, come on. You were on top of him. Your faces were so close I thought I was about to witness you kissing a man.”

“I was not about to kiss Chenle.” You give her a pointed look.

“Oh, my God, and now the man has a name?” Soobin’s face scrunches up. “First, Jiyoon starts dating Jisung, second, Heewon is hopping on Mark’s dick, and I really thought I’d be safe with you, but Chenle?”

“There’s nothing going on between me and him,” you remind her. “He’s my lab partner. And I’m allowed to have friends.”

She opens her mouth to speak, but your phone dings obnoxiously in your lap. You look at it, and when you see the contact name Chenle gave himself, you chuckle.

“Who is it?” Soobin asks.

“Oh, it’s…” you trail off, annoyance creeping in when you realize the reaction you just had to him. “It’s Chenle.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” She lets out an exasperated groan. “I’ve already lost the war.”

The next few weeks pass by. You see Chenle in class every day, and he somehow convinced you to go to the games he had over that span of time. Jiyoon hadn’t lied to you—they simply do win every game they have.

It became normal for not only Chenle to eat lunch with you, Heewon, Jiyoon, and Soobin, but Mark and Jisung, too. Seeing Mark actively talking to and hanging out with Heewon shocked you, but you were pleasantly surprised.

You’d grown quite accustomed to Chenle and his friendship, to the point where he always sat next to you, so close that your legs touched. His bracelet was still latched around your wrist. You rarely took it off, and when you did, the second you were able to put it back on, you did.

Jiyoon rests her head on Jisung’s shoulder, and his arm loops around her waist and pulls her tight. Mark whispers something to Heewon, who giggles and pushes his shoulder gently. Soobin sits next to you and Heewon, but the more the latter giggles, the closer to you Soobin scoots.

“(Y/N), you’re coming to the game tonight, right?” Mark asks from across the table.

“Unfortunately, you’ll be without me tonight,” you tell him, bumping your knee against Chenle’s. “I have a big test on Friday. But I’ll be at the party.”

Mark salutes you and gives you an apparent nod of approval. “Don’t know what Chenle will do without his good luck charm.”

“He’ll do just as well as he did before he knew I existed.” You laugh and run your fingers through your hair.

Chenle grabs your hand to look at the thread, gaze darting over to yours as a tiny smirk forms on his lips. “As long as you don’t take this off, I’ll be fine.”

“Right, because if I do, you’ll be so sad you can’t play.” You fake a pout, and his smirk turns into a full-blown grin.

“Broken hearts kill people, (Y/N). Be considerate.”

“Wow, they’re flirting in real time,” Jiyoon says, nodding.

“Weird, because Chenle doesn’t do that in front of us usually,” Jisung mutters back to her.

You crumple up one of the papers in front of you and throw it at your friends, and it bounces right off Jiyoon’s forehead. 

“Nice.” Chenle high fives you, and you laugh at Jiyoon’s narrowed eyes.

Neither of you deny what’s happening, and it makes your stomach twist and turn with something you can’t recognize. Whatever’s happening to you, you don’t hate it, but it makes you nervous. Your heart races in his presence, and any time you’re alone with him, you want to kiss him.

Soobin and Heewon have another class to attend, so Mark offers to walk them there. The three of them stand and say their goodbyes. Mark loops his arm through Heewon’s and watches her fondly as he walks away with her.

“I thought he was a player,” you muse. “Now he’s all over her.”

“No, no,” Chenle replies. “I said he has the highest body count. But when he likes someone, he takes it seriously. He’s not a player or anything, he just happens to like sex.”

You nod in understanding and shrug. “I guess I didn’t think that was possible.”

“I mean, no offense to Heewon at all, but we were surprised he wanted more. Not anything to do with her, but he was just planning on going with the flow for the last couple semesters,” Jisung adds, chewing the inside of his cheek.

“Surprised on behalf of Mark, I get it.” You hold your hands up before dropping them back in your lap. Grabbing your bottle of water, you sip from it.

“And what about you two? You seem awfully close lately. Anything happening behind closed doors?” Jiyoon wiggles her eyebrows, and you full-on choke on your drink.

“Classy,” Chenle says to her, putting his hand on your lower back. “Are you okay?”

“Yep.” You try to clear your throat, your face burning at the realization he hasn’t vehemently denied or confirmed anything. Like he’s not going to answer until you’ve made yours clear.

“It’s a pretty simple question,” Jiyoon replies. “And you guys have been hanging out a lot. And I don’t really think he can say he doesn’t want to—”

His touch is now burning a hole right through the small of your back, and when you tense up, he’s quick to remove it.

“I don’t think we should talk about this,” Chenle interjects, resting his elbows on the table.

“See? That wasn’t a denial.” Jiyoon grins widely as if she’s proud of herself.

Your friend seems acutely aware you haven’t said anything either, and you know this is her way of trying to push you out of your shell. Chenle’s not denying his attraction to you, and you almost prefer it this way. Most people would jump to the ‘no, we’re just friends’ much too quickly for comfort, but it’s clear he’s not going to do anything to confuse you.

“I’ll see you after the game, right?” he asks, gaze soft despite the topic Jiyoon brought up.

You smile at him. “Yeah, of course. If I finish my homework at a decent time, I’ll try to make the game.”

“Cool.” He nods and stands up. “Jisung and I have a class, so I’ll see you later.”

Jisung kisses Jiyoon, placing his hand on the back of her neck. It lasts too long for comfort, which leaves you and Chenle to exchange awkward looks. Jisung pulls away first, pressing another quick peck to her cheek before he stands up and walks away with Chenle.

“I feel like that wasn’t really necessary.” You scrunch your face at her.

“The second you kiss Chenle, you’ll realize how necessary it really is.” Jiyoon grins, reaching into her backpack for a bag of chips. “It’s been a while for you. Live a little. Not that you’ve ever really…had a good experience with that kind of stuff.”

“Ah yes, thank you for the reminder.” You snort, looking over your shoulder to see Chenle and Jisung in the distance. “I will not be kissing Chenle.”

“Why not?”

“Why would I?” you counter.

“Uh, because you like him?”

“Kissing requires both parties wanting it, Ji.” You shuffle through your notebook, absentmindedly looking at your notes.

She frowns at you in silence.

“What?”

“You think that man doesn’t want to kiss you? Or get you undressed?”

“Okay, maybe. But just because we want to doesn’t mean we should. Or that we will.” You close your book and sigh as you look at your friend. “I’m not ready for something like that.”

“Not ready? That’s such a sad excuse and you know it. He’d never treat you like Woojin did.”

“It’s really only been a few months, okay? If he really likes me, he’ll give me time. If not, he’ll move on, and we’ll be the same way we have been for the past few weeks. We’re friends, Ji.” You gather your things to put them in your bag.

“I think you’re just scared he doesn’t want you.” Jiyoon narrows her eyes at you. “Try it. Literally try to kiss him tonight and see what happens.”

“You’re crazy. I will see you at the party.” But as you finally move away from your friend, images of kissing Chenle flash in front of your brain, and you realize how much that really is everything you want.

You were gonna kiss him. After the rest of the afternoon debating with yourself, you decided that was the best course of action. The past be damned, you deserve good things—and if Chenle is one of those things, then so be it.

You’ve been at his house for an hour, hanging out with him, Jisung, Mark, and a handful of other people you didn’t really know. You sat next to him on the couch, his arm loosely thrown over the cushion behind you.

Shifting closer to him, you rest your head on his shoulder, and his grip tightens naturally, his fingertips brushing the skin of your forearm. There’s no way you’ll kiss him in front of a group of people, but you’re not sure how to pull him away. He talks animatedly with his friends, laughing and celebrating their most recent win.

After a few moments, he leans close to whisper in your ear. “You okay?”

“Hm?” You blink at him, turning and nearly forgetting how to breathe when you see how easy it would be to press your lips to his. “Yeah, I’m good.” You lift your drink, but as soon as you do, someone hits Chenle’s arm behind you, and it makes you jolt as well, half of your alcohol pouring down your front. You gasp at the chill, gaping as you stand up.

“What the fuck?” Chenle sits up to put his drink down, throwing a glare over his shoulder to whoever ran into him.

Before you say anything, he’s right next to you with his hand on the small of your back. You allow him to lead you to the stairs, your face hot with embarrassment.

“Sorry, Chenle, I should go home and change—”

“You can just put something of mine on,” he says, opening the first door on the right and allowing you to walk in first.

The room is somewhat bare, beige walls and dark flooring. There’s nothing really showing someone lives here despite the sweatshirt haphazardly thrown over the desk chair. His bed isn’t made, the gray comforter bunched in the middle.

The music fades to background noise when he closes the door behind him. He goes into his dresser and pulls out a black T-shirt. When he hands it to you, you timidly take it from him.

“You can change, I’ll wait for you downstairs,” he tells you, already turning.

“Chenle, wait,” you call out, cringing at how quickly you said it. “Stay. Just…close your eyes or something.”

“Okay.” He frowns in confusion, but nods, facing the opposite direction.

Without wasting any more time, you pull your ruined shirt over your head and exchange it for his. It’s the school’s logo on the front, and even though you don’t look, you know his jersey number and last name are on the back.

Nerves eat away at your stomach as you approach him. Logically, you know he won’t reject you. He likes you just as much as you like him, but something still has you choking on the thought.

You put a hand on one of his shoulders. “Chenle.”

He gulps as he turns back to face you, but you don’t give him the time to say anything. Your hands move from his shoulders up to his face, cupping his cheeks and pulling him toward you. He allows it, gaze meeting yours once before his eyes flutter shut and your mouths meet.

His lips fit so perfectly with yours, it has you sighing against him. He wraps his arms around you, fisting your shirt as if he needs to ground himself. The pace is slow, his body flush to yours as your touch slides into his hair. It’s softer than you imagined it to be, and you just can’t get enough of him.

“Fuck, wait.” Chenle pulls away. “You’re not drunk, are you?”

You slap a hand over your mouth, face on fire as you turn away from him without an answer.

“Don’t go,” he says, reaching out for you. “Look at me and tell me you’re sober so I can kiss you again.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you allow him to pull you back until your chest bumps into his. You put your hands flat on his chest, surprised to find his heart thumping just as hard as your own beneath your palm.

“I think you forgot you made me the one drink I had…half of.” You peer at him through your lashes, the shine of your lip gloss reflecting off his lips.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he groans, his hand finding the back of your neck.

As soon as his mouth is on yours, your body arches into his, molding into him like you’re an extension of him. You’re not sure exactly what you’re doing, but you know you’ve never felt so comfortable with anyone else before. You move him backward until the backs of his knees press against his bed.

“(Y/N),” he whispers as you push him down until he sits on the mattress.

“Is this okay?” you ask him.

“Yeah,” he mutters breathlessly, pulling at you. “C’mere, Sunshine.”

A shiver runs down your spine as you climb onto his lap, staring right into his eyes while you crave his kiss. You reach up and swipe your thumb across his bottom lip, entranced. “Call me that again.”

“Sunshine.” He presses you as close as possible by the small of your back. “My Sunshine.”

You kiss him, and when you shift on top of him, you gasp at the feeling of him hardening beneath his sweatpants.

“‘M sorry,” he murmurs. “We can stop—”

“Is that what you want?” you ask him, leaning back to look at his face.

He shakes his head, and it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him so nervous. For the most part, Chenle’s a confident man, so seeing him with even the slightest bit of hesitation warms your heart. His vulnerable side is on full display for you, and you’ll be damned if you’re the one who stops this moment.

“But, (Y/N), I need you to know that—”

“Chenle, can you come help? This fucking guy won’t—Oh, shit. My bad.” Mark stands in the doorway, and instead of flying off Chenle’s lap, you bury your head in his neck. He cradles the back of your head as he looks at his friend.

“What’s going on?” Chenle asks.

“Some dude is refusing to leave but he’s been making a couple girls uncomfortable, and I have no idea where Jisung is.”

“Probably in his room with his girlfriend.” His chest rumbles as he narrows his eyes at Mark. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

You move off his lap and sit next to him on his bed. He presses a quick kiss to your cheek.

“I’ll be right back.” And then he’s gone, following Mark downstairs.

You lie flat on his bed, patting your cheeks and fighting off a smile at the thought of what you just did. Amidst your happiness cloud, you don’t realize your phone is vibrating in your pocket until it’s on the last ring. You grab for it, unsure of who would be calling you at a time like this when all of your friends are downstairs.

When you see the screen, you immediately shrink in on yourself. The contact name has been labeled as “don’t answer,” and by that logic, you already know who it is. As soon as you see it, the call stops, and it turns into a notification instead. You anxiously wait for the second call, knowing Woojin better than you’d like to.

Your breath catches in your throat and anxiety sprouts at the base of your spine, and sudden guilt smashes into you when you process what you’ve done with Chenle. Your hands shake as you get a second notification, one that notifies you that you’ve received a voicemail.

You unlock your phone and immediately play the message.

“How fucking stupid do you think I am? Like I haven’t heard what’s going on with you and Chenle. Seriously, (Y/N)? You gonna let the whole basketball team get in your pants, too? He’s not as good as me. I bet every time you’re on his dick, you wish you were with me. You’ll come back when you realize he doesn’t really want you. The second you stop putting out, he’ll drop you so fast, just wait. The thought of you with him makes me so fucking—wait ‘til I fucking see him, and you’ll see. Do you know what you’ve done? You’re such a bitch, you’re pitting people against each other. I’ll get you back.”

The voicemail ends abruptly, and bile rises in your throat. Your eyes well with tears, and you cradle your knees up to your chest, your phone falling onto Chenle’s mattress. You become acutely aware of the way his shirt feels on your skin, and your guilt rages on. You’re not sure how long you’re sitting there before Chenle comes back.

But it doesn’t matter, because you’re hysterical—you can’t understand a word of what he’s saying, and you fight against his grasp like he’s suddenly not the same man you know.

“Hey.” He cups your cheeks, stopping your abrupt movements and forcing you to look into his eyes. “Breathe, talk to me. What the hell just happened?”

Your chest heaves and you stare at him in shock. You’re sure anyone else would have sent you away at the sight of the mess you became in seconds.

“Was it me? Did I do this?” he asks, thumbs stroking your skin.

Your heart pangs in your chest, and you quickly shake your head, unable to open your mouth to explain. Chenle’s face scrunches in relief as his chest deflates.

“Come here.” He tugs at you until you practically fall into his lap. You curl into him, and he lets you cry on his shoulder.

“Sorry,” you choke out, gripping onto his sleeve. “I wanted tonight to—”

“Don’t do that,” he says. “You don’t need to apologize to me. Can you…please tell me what happened?”

You’re almost too embarrassed to tell him about the message. He’d find out things about your past, and it might change his opinion of you. Although, the concern in his gaze as he wipes your tears away becomes enough convincing. This is Chenle. You trust him, inexplicably.

“Voicemail,” you whisper, jaw quivering all over again.

Chenle kisses your forehead and reaches for your phone. You feel queasy as he finds what he’s looking for and puts the device up to his ear. Faintly, you hear it play. You watch Chenle’s face closely, waiting for the disgust to show like you expect.

Instead, as the recording finishes, his jaw clenches, fire raging in his brown eyes. He tosses your phone to the side and tugs you closer to his chest. You sniffle, and his grip tightens on you. He’s rigid, unmoving except for his hand that runs through your hair.

“Chenle, I haven’t said anything about you to anyone.” You look up at him. “I don’t know where he heard any of that from, ‘cause I’d never spread rumors.”

“I didn’t think you did,” he says, tone soft. “I don’t think any part of that is your fault.”

“You’re not mad?”

“At you?” he asks incredulously. “Of course, I’m not mad at you. His actions can’t be blamed on you.”

For the first time since you received that call, your heart calms. You stare at him, lips parted in shock, and wait for the other shoe to drop. Wiping the rest of your tears, you clear your throat. Fear creeps up your spine, and the only thing on your mind is not scaring him off. Not doing anything to rock the boat so you can keep him, because you’ve already unknowingly fallen for him.

You sniffle, readjusting yourself on his lap so you’re straddling him again. He looks at you in confusion, but his hands find purchase on your hips. You tangle your fingers in his hair, swallowing the reproach you feel toward this situation, and kiss him like the past half an hour doesn’t exist. He returns the gesture, but it’s not like it was earlier. The passion has all but drained, and his touches are tentative.

He pulls away, eyes scanning over your face. “What are you doing?”

“What we were supposed to do in the first place,” you mention, grinding down on him.

He opens his mouth to speak, but a quiet curse comes out instead. Your hands shake as you reach down to the hem of your shirt and tug it over your head. Like Woojin said, as long as you’re giving Chenle what he wants, he won’t leave you.

“Stop,” Chenle breathes out, making you freeze above him.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t do this right now.” He drops his head into his palms. “Is this about the voicemail? You think you have to do this for me?”

Your silence is the only answer he needs.

“God, what the hell?” He removes you from his lap and stands up, tugging his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“Don’t go. Please.” Your voice is so small, you barely recognize it. “I’ll do better. Whatever you—”

“No.” He strides over to you and helps you to your feet, hands cupping your face as he kisses your forehead. “No, baby, I’m not going anywhere, promise. I just need a second, okay?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Let’s get your shirt back on.” He leans down to grab the black fabric off the floor and helps you pull it back on.

“Chenle,” you whisper.

“Yeah?” His eyebrows pinch together as he looks at you.

“Did you…want to?” You cringe at how small you sound. “Earlier, at least. You wanted me?”

“I did. I do. But I want you to want it, too,” he explains. “You shouldn’t ever feel like you have to do something you don’t want to, especially not things like that. No real man would ever ask you for that.”

“Thank you,” you say, taking a deep breath. “Can I stay with you tonight? Please?”

“I’d prefer it that way, actually.” He chuckles. “I’m gonna be right back, okay? Gonna tell Mark to end the party now, and I’ll be right back. You’ll be okay by yourself?”

You nod, and surprisingly, you actually mean it.

“If you don’t want to sleep in your jeans, you can get a pair of sweats from my dresser.” He kisses your cheek before heading downstairs.

While he’s gone, you change out of your jeans, a dull ache in your head from the sobbing. After you have his sweats on, you climb into bed and slide beneath his comforter. You’re surrounded by his scent like this. You want to melt into the sheets and never leave, surrounded by everything he has to offer all the time.

When he comes back, he locks his door behind him and lays down next to you. He doesn’t make any moves to pull you close, so you take the initiative and bury your head in his chest, wrapping an arm around his middle.

“Get some rest,” he whispers. “I’m sorry you have to deal with that piece of shit.”

“I’ll be okay,” you tell him, sighing. “I have you now.”

His grip is firm on you when you wake up, the steady rising and falling of his chest telling you he’s fast asleep. You sigh in content. You’d never really understood what people meant before, when they said things about not being able to get close enough. He’s pressed flush against you, but you feel as if it’s not enough.

You have no idea if your friends are here, but you carefully crawl out of bed so as to not disturb Chenle. Rubbing your eyes, you grab your phone to check your notifications. Jiyoon texted you a few times to ask if you’d gotten home okay. She’d been upstairs long before you, so it doesn’t surprise you she has no idea you stayed with Chenle.

He stirs with a short groan, but doesn’t open his eyes. You bite back a smile at the softness of his face. His cheek is smooshed into the pillow, and you’re surprised by the odd urge to kiss all over him. Instead, you opt to go into the kitchen for some water.

When you walk in the room, you’re met with Jisung, Jiyoon, and Heewon. Your friends blink at you in surprise, and Jisung laughs to himself.

“Think we found her.” He nudges Jiyoon.

“You could’ve just responded to my text and told me you got dick last night.” Jiyoon throws her hands up in exasperation.

“Nothing happened.” You shrug. “Jisung, water bottles?”

He points to the fridge, you give him a thumbs up, and then you grab one, twisting the cap off and sipping from it.

“You dirty liar, you’re in his clothes.” Heewon narrows her eyes at you. “His last name is on your back.”

“I spilled alcohol on my clothes,” you reply. “Mark was there, ask him.”

“Nothing happened?” Jiyoon asks. “Nothing at all? Not even some light petting or you know, head?”

You glare at her. “You’re such a perv.”

“Mark said he saw something last night,” Heewon blurts out. “And then I said, what? My sweet, innocent (Y/N) would never do something like that. But then I thought about it, and it obviously had to be you because Chenle wouldn’t randomly take another girl in his room.”

“Oh, my God.” Your face heats up. “Yeah, we kissed, but that’s it. Let me breathe before you start interrogating me.”

Jiyoon exclaims in excitement, shaking Jisung’s arm. “They finally fucking kissed!”

You grab a second bottle for Chenle, and then you make your way back toward the stairs.

“Wait!” Jiyoon calls. “You have to give me the details. You can’t just drop that on us and then leave!”

You turn toward her, giving her a pointed look. “Not telling you anything. I’m going back upstairs.”

“Yeah, go kiss Chenle again.” Jiyoon snickers.

“Maybe I will.” You whirl around, gasping mid-laugh when you smack right into Chenle’s chest. Embarrassment shoots through you as one of the water bottles tumbles from your hand. “Oh, I was just about to—”

“Kiss me again?” His lips form the tiniest smirk.

“Water. For you. But—”

“It’s okay, I’ll do it for you.” His palm finds the back of your neck, pushing you closer to him so he can connect your lips. You immediately melt into him, the other bottle falling as you wrap your arms around his shoulders.

The only thing that pulls you away from him in that moment is the obnoxious sound of Jiyoon and Heewon cheering behind the two of you. Your face burns, and you put your palms flat on his chest.

“Good morning.” You clear your throat.

“Would’ve been better with you in my bed instead of the kitchen,” he whispers in your ear.

“Hey, hey! No secrets.” Jiyoon pouts.

“Sorry, she’s very convinced we’re…you know.” You purse your lips. “Did you want to stay down here?”

“Came to see if you were still here,” he admits. “I’d much rather be upstairs with you right now.”

You glance over your shoulder at your friends and Jisung, glaring at them before returning your attention back to Chenle. “My peaceful attempt to get water was thwarted by my loser friends assuming we had sex.”

“You’ve got some nosy friends.” He grabs the water bottles from the floor and gestures back up the stairs. “Exactly why we lock doors in this house.”

When you get to class the next day, you’re surprised that Chenle’s nowhere to be found. He hadn’t mentioned anything to you, so you grab your phone and send him a quick text. Half of the class passes by before you start to worry. He hasn’t messaged you back, and he’s still not here.

You walk up to your professor, fidgeting with your hands. “Excuse me, sorry if this is weird, but did Chenle email or anything about not being here?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” she replies. “But I do think the basketball team had something planned for today. If you’re looking for him, he may be in the gym.”

You nod at her to thank her, and then you do exactly as she says. It’s unlike him to be MIA all day, and you’re sure he wouldn’t be upset seeing you, so why not?

You’re not expecting the room to be so full when you walk in. You don’t see him immediately, but you see Jiyoon and Jisung, so you approach them.

Jiyoon spots you first, confusion sprouting on her features. “(Y/N)? What are you doing here?”

“Um.” You blush, suddenly embarrassed that you came all this way to find Chenle. “Have you heard from Chenle? He wasn’t in class and he wasn’t responding, so…”

“You’re so cute when you worry,” Jiyoon says, nudging your shoulder. “Yeah, the captains of the sports teams do this once a year or whatever. He’s been here all day.”

“Oh, okay, well, I’m gonna head to lunch. Are you coming?” You tilt your head and adjust your bag.

“Heewon’s here, too. You didn’t know about this?”

You frown, taken aback by everyone knowing what’s going on but you. It gives you an uneasy feeling, your stomach twisting.

The door on the far end opens, and Chenle walks through, clearly frustrated at whatever he just witnessed back there. His anger melts the second he sees you, and he makes his way over.

He pulls you into a hug. “What’re you doing here?”

“I…” You pause, throwing one of your arms around him. “You weren’t in class, and our professor said you might be here. I’m a little confused.”

Chenle glances around before he gestures toward the door. “C’mon, I’ll explain.”

You let him lead you away from Jiyoon and Jisung. Once you’re far enough from the crowd, he grabs your hand.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about this,” he tells you. “I just…I figured you knew, but this is a schoolwide event. Which means everyone on a sports team is here, and I didn’t want you to feel pressured to come knowing—”

“Zhong, not inviting your girlfriend to things? Isn’t that frowned upon?”

You freeze at the sound of that voice, and suddenly, everything makes sense. Chenle runs his tongue over his teeth, immediate irritation sparking on his face.

“Didn’t we just have a conversation about you being around her, Woojin?” His body tenses as he turns toward the other man. “Don’t make me get us both in trouble before such an important week.”

He stands directly in front of you, blocking your view of the man. You hold onto the back of his T-shirt and tug gently to tell him it’s not worth it.

“Well, if she’s over me, what does it matter if she sees me? Are you scared you’ll lose out to a better man?” Woojin’s tone seeps with misplaced confidence. “C’mon, she’s not that good to where you have to get so defensive.”

Chenle quickly moves forward, making you lose your grip on him. Fortunately, Jisung and Mark jump in, hands on his shoulders to push him back.

“Hey, calm down,” Mark says in his ear. “We can’t play without our captain.”

Jiyoon and Heewon shuffle past the boys over to you, but you’re focused more on Chenle than yourself at this point.

“C’mon, let’s go,” Jiyoon says, tugging at your arm. “Let Chenle handle it.”

“What? No, he’s clearly not handling it. I’m okay.” You move around Mark to stand in front of Chenle, not sparing Woojin a glance. Despite the uneasiness you feel, you care more about calming him down than giving Woojin the satisfaction of a response from you.

You put your hand on his chest, and his anger all but dissipates when he looks at you. His eyes soften, and he nods at his friends so they’ll let him go.

“I’ll be back,” Chenle says. “I’m gonna take her home.”

“You don’t have to leave for me.” You grin up at him. “I’ll make it fine by myself. I shouldn’t have come.”

“Trust me, I need a walk.” He brushes his pants off and puts his arm around you, guiding you in the opposite direction. The glare he throws at Woojin would be enough to send chills down your spine if it was directed at you.

Once you’re out in the fresh air, you finally feel like you can breathe. Chenle’s still tense as he walks you through the courtyard.

“Are you okay?” you ask him. “I’m sorry, I should’ve just waited to hear from you, but I was worried.”

“Don’t apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for, you’re not the one who’s an asshole.” He pulls you tighter and kisses the side of your head. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” You nod, looking down at your feet as you walk.

He pauses, fingers tapping against your skin. “I’m really not mad at you. I wanted you there, but I didn’t want you to be in a situation like that. So, if anything, I should’ve told you about what I was doing today. I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

You stop, frowning at him. He tilts his head at you and raises his eyebrows in confusion.

“You did that for me?”

He gives you a small smile. “It definitely wasn’t for me. If I was being selfish, I would’ve brought you.”

Instead of responding, you tangle your fingers in his hair and kiss him. He finally relaxes and rests his hand on the small of your back.

He drops his head on your shoulder, sighing. “Don’t wanna go back. Do you care if I just stay with you for the day?”

“Well, you missed our assignment directions, so I think you probably should.” You intertwine your fingers with his and resume your journey.

You and Chenle end up in your room, and he sits next to you on your bed while you shuffle through your papers from today. He shifts, spreading his legs to pull you between them, his arms squeezing around your middle.

“He makes me want to commit murder. I can only imagine how you feel.” He breathes you in.

You chuckle, leaning back on his chest. “Honestly? I just wanted you. I didn’t care about him or whatever he was saying. Plus, he has no idea what he’s talking about. He sucks.”

“Oh, that’s working,” he murmurs. “Tell me all about how he sucks, please.”

“He never let me go to parties. Couldn’t have a simple conversation with any man that wasn’t him. Always hung out with his friends instead of me. I had to ask permission if I wanted to do anything. Even if it was with Jiyoon or Heewon.” Your face heats up, and you’re glad he can’t see you. “He talks about being this great man but he never actually…took care of me.”

Chenle tenses all over again. “What?”

“Uh.” You clear your throat and shake your head. “Nothing.”

“No, no, sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” he says. “I’m just…I guess I shouldn’t really be surprised, huh? Any man that talks like that probably doesn’t even know how to use his parts.”

“Yeah, he kinda sucks.”

“I’m stuck between wanting to kick his ass or showing you what it feels like.” He kisses where your neck meets your shoulder. “Is he the only guy you’ve been with?”

Your thighs clench together at the sudden heat you feel, and you gulp, nodding. “I mean, I’ve…done things to myself. But yeah. He’s the only one.”

“I…” His eyelashes flutter against your skin. “God, I could kill him.”

You turn your head until you meet his gaze, heart pounding in your chest as you work up the courage to say what you want. His eyes dart down to your mouth before he wets his lips.

You trace your finger over his cheekbone, shifting back against him. “Why don’t you stop thinking about him and show me?”

He kisses you hard, hands clenching at the fabric of your shirt. You try to move so you can straddle his lap, but he tightens his grip instead.

“Relax, baby,” he murmurs. “You don’t have to do anything. Just lay back and let me take care of you, yeah?”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“Do you want me to touch you?” Chenle’s hand slides down to the button of your jeans, and your breath catches in your throat.

“If you want—”

“Do you want me to touch you?” he repeats. “I’m not doing it if you don’t want it.”

“Yes.” You look into his eyes. “Please.”

“There you go.” He gives you a small smile as he pops the button and unzips the zipper. “Lift up for me for a second? Wanna get these off of you.”

You do as he asks, and he pushes the fabric down to your knees. With anyone else, you’d feel embarrassed to be seen this way, but Chenle’s lips against your neck and fingertips exploring your bare thighs has you forgetting all about it.

You lean back on him, already panting at the thought of him so close to where you want him. He traces along the hem of your panties before tracing down to your core, ghosting from your entrance to your clit. You bite your lip to stop yourself from making a sound.

“You can stop me whenever if you want to, okay? Don’t think you have to do this because you already said yes.” He rubs tentative circles on you with just enough pressure to have you squirming.

“I want it,” you tell him. “I want you.”

“I know, baby. I’m letting you know it’s okay if you change your mind.” His cock is hard already, digging into you back as he presses a little harder.

This time, you can’t hold back the moan fluttering past your lips. You put your hand over your mouth, and he uses his other hand to pull at your wrist.

“Let me hear you.” His voice is deeper than you’re used to, thick with want for you. “Tells me if I’m doing a good job.”

He stops his movements to slide his hand beneath your panties. His fingers move to your entrance, and he curses under his breath and the feeling of your wetness. You cry out when he slips them inside you, not sure what to do with your hands as your eyes roll.

“Good?” he asks, kissing along your neck. His body radiates heat. It pours into you, your chest heaving while you reach up to tangle your fingers in his hair and kiss him hard.

“More,” you whimper.

His tongue enters your mouth, delicately wrestling with yours. He pumps his hand faster, his palm finding your clit with every thrust. You’re embarrassed by the way your legs shake, but you don’t break the kiss. Your hips buck up, a knot forming in your stomach that you’ve only ever felt by yourself. It’s more intense when it’s Chenle, the butterflies swarming around the closer you get.

He curls his fingers, finding your spot. You squirm and moan as your high takes you, your grip on his hair tightens while you grind down. While you float on the cloud he created for you, he moves slowly to bring you back down to earth, and he kisses all over your face. He gently removes his fingers and wipes them on his shirt.

“God, I wanna fucking eat you out so bad,” he pants. “Fuck.”

You push your jeans off the rest of the way and turn around to straddle his lap. His hands find your hips, holding you away from the noticeable bulge in his shorts.

You frown. “What about you?”

“Baby, I’m good. I’m just gonna go take care of it in the bathroom.”

“You don’t want me to—” Your chest deflates.

“That’s not it.” He chuckles breathlessly. “I promise you, the only thing I want more than being inside you right now is making sure you know that me doing things for you doesn’t mean you have to for me, too.”

You’re silent for a moment, blinking at him as he traces shapes on your hips.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“I—I think I’m in love with you,” you say it so quietly, you barely hear the words yourself.

His eyes widen, and within seconds, he’s pulling you in for another kiss. He cradles the back of your head as he flips you over. Resting between your legs, his lips work on yours like he’s never kissed you before.

When he pulls away, your face is still on fire from your confession.

“I’m so sorry,” you tell him. “I don’t know why I’d say something like that, and you don’t have to—”

“I love you, too,” he cuts you off, smiling. “Give me, like, five minutes, Sunshine. I’ll be right back.”

Before you protest, he’s jumping away from you and heading into the bathroom. You splay out on your bed, giggling to yourself as you replay what happened in your head. The thought of him taking care of himself in there has your imagination wandering dangerously. You start to wonder what would happen if you offered to help him.

You finally decide to get up and grab a pair of sweatpants from your dresser. As soon as you have them secured on you, Chenle comes out of the bathroom. He wraps his arms around you, pulling your back to his chest.

“Sorry you had to do that,” you murmur, taking a deep breath.

“It’s not the first time,” he admits, chuckling.

Your jaw drops and you turn to look at him. “Seriously?”

“The world will fall to its knees when you finally accept how fucking perfect you are.” He kisses the tip of your nose. “Come lay down with me. We’ll worry about homework later, yeah?”

You curl into his chest when you join him on your bed, legs tangling with his. He runs his fingers through your hair, pressing his lips to the top of your head. A giddy feeling runs rampant in your chest, and all you want is to stay here forever with him.

“Thank you,” you whisper to him, squeezing his waist.

“You don’t have to do that.” His reply makes his chest rumble. “I promise I’ll always treat you the way you deserve.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” you hum, closing your eyes.

His heart thrums in his chest, the sound filling your ears and calming you despite how fast it is. You make him as nervous as he makes you, and that thought alone puts a smile on your face.

He gives you a sense of calm you haven’t felt in a long time—you’re safe.

For a week, you don’t see Chenle except in class. It disappoints you, but as his championships approach, he’s been practicing nonstop. He offered to come over after his practices, but he’d be stumbling in past midnight, so you declined.

You’re getting ready for bed when you hear a knock on your door. Hesitating, you’re not sure who would be at your place, let alone knocking. You check your phone to make sure you didn’t miss any texts, and then you look out the peephole.

You recoil at the sight of Woojin, stumbling back until you bump into your table. What the hell was he doing at your house.

“(Y/N), open the door.” He has to be shouting. His voice is much too clear. “I just wanna talk to you. I know Chenle’s not here, babe, let me in.”

Your first instinct is to grab your phone out of your pocket, but you’re not sure what you plan on doing.

“Let me in or I’ll find a way in without your help,” Woojin warns.

You turn away and bolt back to your room, closing it and locking it before your first instinct is to dial Chenle’s number.

“I was just about to call you,” he answers. “We got out early so I was gonna see if—”

“Woojin’s outside.” Your voice warbles as you try to stand steady, tugging your fingers through your hair. “He said he’s gonna find a way in, and I don’t remember if all the windows are locked or—”

“Hey, hey, listen to me, okay? I’m on my way. Go to your room and lock the door. I’ll be before you know it. He’s not going to get to you.” His tone switches from lighthearted to dead serious, but somehow still comforting despite the situation.

“Chenle—”

“I know, baby. Make sure your door is locked.”

Woojin pounds on the front door more, and you drop your phone.

“If you think he’ll make it before I get to you, you’re wrong. This could’ve been fucking easy, (Y/N)!” A cold edge takes over Woojin, and tears well in your eyes.

This man was forcing his way into your house, and fear paralyzes you from head to toe. You can’t move, no matter how much you try. At least the noise alerts you to where he is, but when the silence sets in, you feel bile in your throat.

You sit on the floor, cradling your knees to your chest as you rock back and forth as your only option for response. Nothing changes, and suddenly, you hear a familiar voice through your bedroom door.

“(Y/N)? It’s Mark, are you okay? Chenle’s outside.”

It’s not enough. You can’t speak or move to unlock the door, and you don’t want Mark.

“He’s taking care of it,” Mark continues.

After more silence, he seems to get that you’re not going to respond to anyone but Chenle.

A few more minutes pass, and a light knock sounds.

“(Y/N), open the door,” Chenle says softly. “I’m here, Sunshine. Come see me.”

You pick yourself up off the floor and make your way over to the door, unlocking it but not having enough energy to open it. As soon as he hears it, he’s in your room and wrapping you up in his arms.

“Are you okay?” He kisses the top of your head, his heart pounding in his chest. Pulling back, he grabs your face, wiping away the tears you don’t recall shedding.

“He tried to—” You choke on your words, opting to bury yourself in his grasp instead.

And then you see his hands, some of his knuckles split and bleeding. You gasp and grab his wrists, gaping at his injuries.

“Chenle, what did you do?”

“Just taught him a lesson is all,” he tells you, shaking his head. “I want you to come stay with us for a little while, okay?”

“Huh?”

“I want you to pack a bag and come stay with me, Sungs, and Mark for a while.”

“I can’t do that.” You put your hands on his shoulders. “You said you handled it, right?”

“Please?” He cups both your cheeks. “It’ll make me feel better. I know he won’t try anything there.”

Reluctantly, you agree, and he helps you gather your things. He insists on carrying it for you, and he leads you through your house. When you make it outside, you see a handful of people you don’t know and Mark and Jisung. You turn to look at Chenle.

“Is…is this the whole basketball team?” you ask.

“We were all leaving when you called. They offered to help.” He shrugs.

You’re exhausted by the time you make it to Chenle’s. Jiyoon and Heewon are already there, and when they see you, the looks on their faces tell you everything you need to know. Chenle guides you upstairs without a word.

“Chenle,” you mutter after he closes the door.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it, okay?” You fight your tears and grab his hands. “Let me help you clean up, and then I just want to go to bed.”

“Anything you need.” He kisses your forehead.

“Do you have a first-aid kit?” You sniffle and wipe at your eyes.

He leads you into his bathroom and grabs a plastic case from under the sink and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. Sliding onto his counter, you spread your legs to allow him room close to you. You don’t say another word, you just get to work. He flinches when you wipe his wounds, and you sigh at the amount of damage done. All of it for you? It didn’t make sense.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you, staring down at your movements. “It just makes me…so mad that he thinks he can get away with trying to hurt you. So, I’m sorry if I hurt you by doing that, but I’m not sorry for protecting you.”

“You brought the whole team.” You chuckle and kiss his cheek.

“You’re important to me, and by definition, that makes you important to them, too.” He shrugs and pulls his hands away from you to grip the edge of the counter. “You’re safe with them.”

“I wasn’t done,” you scold him, but you enjoy his warmth anyway.

Chenle shakes his head. “Just let me look at you for a sec.”

You’re sure your face is puffy, eyes bloodshot from tears you barely remember, but he stares at you so fondly you forget all about it. He gives you the faintest smile.

“Come to bed with me?” His voice is so soft, like he’s afraid of any louder octave breaking you into pieces.

You cup his cheeks, stroking his skin with your thumbs. “What if it gets infected?”

“It won’t,” Chenle reassures you. “I’m exhausted. And I have class in the morning.”

You nod, and he takes a step back to allow you to get down. Following him into his bedroom, you feel how heavily sleep tugs on you, too. You sit on the edge of his bed as he moves his comforter so he can get under it. Watching him over your shoulder, you appreciate how soft he looks. All you want is to be close to him at all times. Whenever he’s away from you, the air is so much colder.

Chenle wraps his arm around you and pulls you to his chest so you can curl into him. “I love you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

“I love you, too. And you got to me in time, that’s all that matters.” Your mouth brushes his gently at first, and then you allow him to part your lips with his tongue. 

Despite that and the way he holds you so tightly, there’s no real heat behind this. You wrap your leg around his waist, and his hand moves down to your ass. Sighing, you shuffle again, getting lost in his kiss and the feeling of his hands all over you.

He squeezes you, making a short moan escape your lips. Resting his forehead against yours, he closes his eyes.

“We should stop.”

“You’re the one touching me,” you point out, tracing your thumb along his bottom lip. “We can stop if you want to, but I want it. So, don’t stop on my behalf.”

He rolls his hips toward you, pressing his hardening cock against your clothed entrance. “Does it feel like I want to stop?”

“I want you so bad.” You sigh as you grind on him. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since—” Your face heats up at your confession, but he smiles.

“I let you cum one time, and now this,” he teases you, biting back a wider grin.

You smack his shoulder. “It felt good.”

“It’s supposed to,” he retorts. “And if you’re ever with me and you don’t finish, you’d better tell me. Because I’ll make it happen.”

“I haven’t finished yet.” You continue grinding on him, his hardness sliding perfectly against you.

He massages your ass, the pressure of it slotting him firmly between your legs. You kiss him hard and let out a shuddering breath at the stimulation of your clit through your pants and underwear. His teeth sink into your bottom lip, and he tugs until you let out a short whine.

“God, I don’t wanna have you for the first time while Mark and Jisung can hear,” he groans, burying his head in your neck. “Need to hear how I’m making you feel.”

“So let me just take care of you.” You move your hand down his body until you squeeze his bulge.

“You don’t have to,” he says, voice strained.

“If I want to?” you ask.

He inhales sharply, but doesn’t exhale. “Whatever you want, Sunshine.”

“Close your eyes and relax.” You kiss him gently before moving beneath the blanket.

He shifts onto his back, and you pull his pants down enough to palm him over his boxers. A short gasp leaves his lips. That’s enough for you to decide to slide your hand inside and grip his length. He throbs as your thumb rubs over the tip.

You're more nervous than you’d care to admit, but when you put the head in your mouth and suck, his low curse is all you need. You sink down further, attempting to relax your throat to take him deeper. He struggles to keep quiet, his moans sending bursts of wetness to your core.

You grab his hand, finding it fisted into the sheets, and bring it to your hair, hoping he’ll get the message. He immediately starts guiding your head up and down on his cock, and the slight sting from his movements has you moaning around him.

“Gonna cum,” he warns you. “Fuck, baby, your mouth is so good.”

You dig your nails into his thigh, sinking all the way down until your eyes water from gagging on him. With one last groan, he spills down your throat. You swallow what you can, climbing out from under the blanket while he readjusts himself in his pants.

“You’re fucking killing me,” he groans, reaching up to wipe the corner of your mouth. Before he moves away from you, you take his thumb in your mouth and suck.

“Feel better?” You quirk an eyebrow at him.

He shifts, laying you on your back so he can settle between your legs. You’re a little surprised when he kisses you hard, tongue and all, considering you swallowed his load, but he doesn’t seem to care about that.

“Your turn,” he mutters, kissing and nipping along your neck.

“You shouldn’t.” You run your fingers through his hair. “Your hands are—”

“Oh, baby.” He chuckles. “I don’t need my hands for what I’m about to do to you.”

“What happened to not having to do things just because the other person did?” You chuckle as he plays with the hem of your pants.

“You fucking earned it.” He nips your collarbone. “Plus I’ve wanted to taste you for so long. So, really, this is for me, too.”

“That feels backwards.”

He lifts your shirt up so his lips can graze your skin on the way down, tongue dancing along. Your breathing becomes uneven from the anticipation. With him between your legs, you can’t move to create the friction you crave.

“Is this okay?” he asks you.

You nod, helping him remove your panties. His gaze darkens as he sees your core, surely slick with your arousal. The pause he takes is minimal, and within seconds, he’s licking a broad stripe up your core. Your hand flies to his hair, whining as your back arches. He sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue flicking it fast. His arms wrap around your thighs to stop them from clenching around his head, and his nails digging into your skin amplifies your pleasure.

You squirm beneath him, moaning as he dips into your entrance. His nose nudges your sensitive bud, and you wonder how you’ve gone this long without feeling this kind of pleasure. Lewd sounds emanate from where he’s attached to you as he works your entrance like he’s done it a hundred times.

You look at him, at the sight between your legs, and feel a whole new burst of heat between your legs. It feels like a rubber band is being pulled tight in your stomach, and you know damn well how soon it’ll snap.

The second his gaze flicks up to yours while his mouth is attached to your core, your orgasm hits you hard. Your back arches as your hips buck, and you tug hard on his hair until he’s moaning against you.

He doesn’t let up, helping you ride out your high before he starts to slow his pace. When you’ve come down from it, he separates from you, sitting up on his knees to get a good look. His lips glisten with your arousal, and you wet your lips at the thought of the evident bulge in his pants.

“Not tonight, baby.” He wipes his face with the back of his hand. “Not with them in the house, and not after everything.”

He grabs you a clean pair of panties, sliding them up your legs before he kisses you deeply. You moan at the taste of yourself.

Once you nod, he practically collapses on top of you, his head resting on your chest. You like feeling the weight of him and his warmth, so you wrap your arms around him and hold him while you will your heart to calm down.

In the morning, Chenle kisses all over your face to wake you. You groan, pushing at him despite only wanting him closer.

“I have to get to class,” he tells you. “And I have practice later, but I’m gonna leave a little early.” His lips trail to a sensitive spot below your ear.

“Leave practice early?” You fake disappointment. “Why would the captain leave early?”

“Because the captain is tired of his roommates being home when all he wants is alone time with his girlfriend. So, he’s gonna take some time to do the things he’s been dreaming of the past few weeks.” He drops his weight on top of you, resting his head on your chest. “If that’s okay with her, of course.”

“Oh? What things?”

He smirks up at you. “I’m gonna take you on a date, and then, if you’re up for it, I really, really wanna be inside you all fucking night.”

Your face heats up at the bluntness of his confession, but you nod.

“Just for bonus points, I’ll tell Mark and Jisung not to come home tonight, yeah?” He lifts himself up on his palms until he’s hovering over you.

“Why don’t you stay here, and we can be without them all day?”

“I have a test.” He sighs, placing one last kiss on your collarbone. “If that were an option, I’d’ve already picked it.”

Chenle pats your hip before rolling out of bed. He’s already changed into jeans and a T-shirt, but you admire him anyway. You turn to your side and curl into the blanket, planning on staying in that very spot until he comes back.

“I’ll see you later.” He grabs his backpack and heads for the door, glancing once more over his shoulder before he disappears. Even though he closes the door behind him, it doesn’t take long for it to open again, Jiyoon poking her head through.

“Hey.” She gives you a nervous smile. “How are you feeling?”

“I’ve been worse,” you reply, sitting up. Pursing your lips, you remember your pants are on the other side of the room. Jiyoon notices at the same time you do.

“Y’know, I thought I heard something last night,” Jiyoon jokes, sitting at the foot of the bed. “But then I was like, no way. (Y/N) is celibate.”

“Oh, come on. Celibate?” You glare at her.

She holds her hands up in mock surrender. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me the second it happened.”

“It hasn’t. That’s why you haven’t heard about it.” You shrug.

“That explains why it’s only your pants.” She frowns. “Why’s it taking so long?”

“It’s only been a couple months, Ji.”

“Yeah. That’s like six years in guy time.”

“We’ve done…stuff. Just not that.”

“Oh, my God, wait! I have to get Heewon before you spill.” Jiyoon squeals in excitement and runs out of the room.

You fall back against the pillow and sigh. As much as you want to tell them, you also want to keep it to yourself. It feels…private. Magical. Something only shared between you and Chenle.

They’ll ask you questions about him—and you’ll only ever be able to answer in one way. He’s perfect, and every second you spend with him makes you want more.

You end up in the living room with them after changing your clothes for the day. Jiyoon ordered pizza, and shortly after Chenle left, Mark and Jisung head out for practice.

But Chenle comes back a lot earlier than you expected. You, Jiyoon, and Heewon share an awkward glance. It must be right after his class, considering it’s only been an hour and a half.

“I thought he said he was still going to practice?” Jiyoon whispers.

You shrug. “Yeah, he did.”

He exchanges a look with you, and you realize immediately that he’s not happy. Shaking his head, he turns and immediately heads upstairs.

“Did he look upset to you guys?” you whisper.

“I think he wants you to go with him,” Jiyoon replies, pushing your arm.

“I’ll be right back.” You wipe your hands off on your napkin before following him to his bedroom. He’s on his way back out when you make it up there.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Checking on you,” you tell him. “You’re back early and you don’t seem happy, so I wanted to make sure you’re good. Why aren’t you going to practice?”

“Why would I practice if I can’t play in the game?” He raises his eyebrows at you.

“What do you mean you can’t play?” you shoot back, eyes widening. “Is this because of me?”

“No, it’s not your fault.” He wets his lips. “I don’t really wanna talk about it right now. Let’s just go downstairs, yeah? If I don’t get to hold you, I might go crazy after everything today.”

You nod and intertwine your fingers with his. “Yeah, of course.”

When the two of you take your seats, you motion at Jiyoon to tell her not to ask him any questions. You sit next to him with your legs over his lap, and his thumb rubs your thigh through your jeans.

You rest your head on his shoulder, listening to whatever story Heewon is telling. When you look over at him, he’s relaxed back on the cushion, eyes closed. You know something’s bothering him, but you don’t want to push or make him feel uncomfortable by prying. Instead, you shuffle closer to him.

He pulls you onto his lap, squeezing his arms around you and letting out a long sigh. It worries you more than you’ll admit, and when you glance over at your friends, they’re talking to each other in hushed voices.

“We’ve got a class,” Jiyoon says, standing up with Heewon. “We’re gonna head out. Talk to you later?”

“Yeah, of course.” You smile at her, and then quickly mouth ‘sorry’ before she waves you off like it’s no big deal.

Once they’re out of the door, you look back at Chenle, shifting so you’re straddling his lap to allow you a good view of him.

He runs his fingers through his hair, gaze traveling over you. “Would you hate me if we took a rain check on the date day?”

“I could never hate you.” You frown at him. “Whatever you need. Just tell me and I’ll make it happen.”

“Come take a nap with me?” he whispers, eyebrows furrowing slightly. “All I want is to hold you and forget today exists.”

You give him a soft smile. “Of course.”

You’re not sure what it is exactly that has him so upset, but he said he didn’t want to talk about it. He guides you upstairs, fingers intertwined, and closes his bedroom door behind you once you’re both in.

Rummaging through his drawers, he grabs a shirt and hands it to you. You take it without question before going to your bag to get a pair of shorts. Without a second thought, you take your own shirt off and drop it on his floor, glancing over your shoulder at him to see him changing into a pair of sweatpants. You secure his shirt on before unbuttoning your jeans, pushing them down your legs until you can kick them off.

His arms snake around your waist, pressing his chest to your back. He kisses your cheek. “This was supposed to be a good night. I’m sorry, Sunshine, I’ll figure it out soon, okay?”

“Hey,” you murmur, turning to him. “You don’t have to apologize to me. We have all the time in the world for dates.”

“Thank you. I’m fucking exhausted.” Chenle moves toward his bed, and you follow without hesitation. When you’re both settled beneath the comforter, you curl into him like you can’t get close enough.

You’re not sure who falls asleep first, but you wake up before him. The dim lamp in the corner is now the only lighting, the sun no longer illuminating the walls in orange. A door opening and closing downstairs followed by Mark and Jisung laughing together is what stirs you.

Reluctantly pulling yourself away from Chenle, you grab your shorts from the edge of the bed and slide them on before heading toward Chenle’s friends. You rub your eyes to help you adjust to the brightness of the kitchen, and Jisung and Mark stop their conversation as they notice you.

“Hey,” Jisung says, fingers tapping on the counter.

“Don’t let me interrupt.” You chuckle, your voice still heavy with sleep. “I just wanted to ask you guys something if that’s okay.”

Mark nods. “Yeah, of course.”

“Why wasn’t he at practice today? He said something about not being able to play?”

The two boys share a look, and for some reason, that makes you feel as if you already know the answer.

“It’s because of me, isn’t it?”

“Not you,” Jisung replies. “But…”

“But what?” You cross your arms over your chest. “Come on, if there’s something I can do, I want to help.”

“Woojin reported Chenle for kicking his ass. And Coach asked him why he’d do something like that, but he wouldn’t say anything. He didn’t want to air your business or whatever, and he’s pretty much banned the rest of us from defending him. Honestly, he didn’t even want us to tell you. But we’re gonna lose without him, and this is the last championship before graduation.” Jisung pauses, pressing his lips together. “Not that we blame you, because what happened wasn’t your fault at all, but it’s just…”

“No, I get it,” you tell him. “Don’t tell him I know. I’ll fix it.”

“That’s not exactly what I meant by that, either.”

“I’m not letting myself be an inconvenience to him, Jisung.” You chew on the inside of your cheek, contemplating your next move. “Where is the coach at after mine and Chenle’s lab?”

Jisung and Mark explain to you where to find him, and then you make a mental note of it before you thank them and go back upstairs to Chenle. He’s fast asleep when you make it back, and you already know after all of the things he’s done for you, telling the truth is the least you can do for him.

Like nothing happened, you climb back into bed and resume your place against his chest.

After your lab, you make an excuse as to why you won’t be at lunch that day. You kiss Chenle’s cheek quickly, and then you’re off in the opposite direction to find his coach. Luckily for you, Jisung’s directions were foolproof, and you made your way to the office easily.

You told the truth—everything about your past with Woojin, how he’d been harassing both you and Chenle, and how he was attempting to break into your house when Chenle came to help you. It was hard to get through the story, but you knew he deserved to play in the championships. There wasn’t anything that could convince you otherwise.

You told the coach to verify the story with any of the rest of the team, and they’d corroborate it. Once you left, a weight felt like it’d been lifted from your shoulders, but you could only hope it was enough to get him his spot back.

Soon enough, you're back in Chenle’s room, sitting at his desk doing your part of the assignment from the lab. Practice starts an hour after lunch, which means you weren’t expecting him for a while yet, but when the front door opens downstairs, you’re sure it’s him.

“(Y/N)?” Chenle calls up to you.

“Homework,” you respond, nervous for his reaction.

You stand up as you hear him approaching. He opens the door, and within seconds, he’s right in front of you, tangling his fingers in your hair and smashing his lips to yours. Your surprised gasp gives him the opportunity to slide his tongue in your mouth, his other hand finding the small of your back to keep you pressed firmly to him.

He rests his forehead on yours, panting. “As much as I should kill Mark and Jisung for opening their big fucking mouths, I can’t believe you did that.”

“Are you mad at me?” you ask. “I didn’t want you to get in trouble and lose out on your games because of me, and when I—”

“No, baby, I’m not mad at you. I’m just so fucking in love with you.”

“I love you so much,” you tell him. “Are you playing next week?”

He nods, grinning. “Yeah, but I told Coach I’d come back next practice. And I also told Mark and Jisung not to come home tonight.”

You don’t respond, instead kissing him once again. He moves softer this time, his hands moving down to grip your ass. Mind whirling, you sigh into his mouth.

“I like this better than the idea of finishing homework.” You chuckle, gripping his shoulders.

“I want you so bad,” he continues, kissing up your neck. “I can’t believe you did that for me.”

Your body heats at his words, images of the ways he’s made you feel before flash across your mind. “I’d do anything for you.”

His lips are on yours again, walking you backward until the back of your knees hit the edge of his bed. You tug on his hair, and the groan he lets out sends shivers down your spine. This is what you’ve been waiting for—and when he pulls away to ask you if it’s okay, you take your shirt off in response. Both of you pause for a moment, him to look you over and you to gain the courage to keep your confidence up.

Turning the two of you around, you gently push him until he sits on the mattress, and then you climb onto his lap. He immediately grips your hips, fingers digging in hard.

His touch ghosts along your skin, making a shuddering breath escape you as every brief second of contact has you on fire.

“I love you,” he says. “Absolutely fucking everything about you.”

“Lucky me,” you murmur, reaching down for the hem of his shirt. He helps you take it off of him, pulling you closer. You gasp at the feeling of his hardening length against your core, and you start to grind down on him.

His eyes darken as he leans forward until his lips brush yours. “No. I’m the lucky one.”

You lift yourself up to push your shorts down, trying your best not to be too awkward with getting them off your legs in your current position. Chenle uses it to his advantage, kissing along your chest and nipping until marks form on your collarbone.

You pull at his pants, the way you need him so desperately making him chuckle as he moves to assist you. After he kicks them off, you continue moving your hips, his bulge rubbing right on your clit through your thin panties.

“Are you sure?” he asks, palms sliding down to your ass so he can squeeze it. “We can wait, Sunshine.”

“If I wait any longer, I might implode,” you tell him breathlessly. “I need you.”

He watches you closely as he reaches the clasp of your bra. You give him an encouraging nod, and he quickly removes it from you. He guides you on top of him, but he wets his lips before putting his hand on your back and lowering his mouth to your nipple. You groan, feeling the knot forming in your stomach at the stimulation on your clit. Whining, you move faster to reach your high, your grip on his shoulders tightening as you get closer.

His gaze meets yours briefly, and then he kisses you hard. Your pleasure becomes so overwhelming that you can’t focus on kissing him, instead a moan escapes you, and he swallows it. He holds you tightly as you practically spasm on top of him, euphoria spreading through every inch of your body.

“I can already feel how wet you are,” he mutters, inhaling sharply. “Let me make you mine, baby. Let me have you.”

“I’m yours. You’ve had me since day one.” You cup his cheeks and kiss him, heart racing.

You’ve never wanted someone as badly as you want him, but it’s only at this point that nerves start to sweep you up in their whirlwind. Like he can read your mind, he pauses, blinking up at you.

“Just relax,” he says. “Whatever you need, tell me.”

“You.” Sitting up again, you try to push your panties down. He takes the opportunity to lift up as well to take his boxers off.

“Do I need a condom?” Chenle asks, cursing under his breath when you wrap your fingers around his length.

You shake your head. “I’m on birth control.”

He gulps, lining himself up with your entrance. You sigh at the feeling, preparing yourself to sink down on him. As he slides inside, you throw your head back. The moment the two of you really connect, you realize you must’ve never been in love with someone before. There’s something about the way your heart beats for him that increases your pleasure. You’ve never felt this good before.

“Good fucking God,” he groans, grip tightening on you.

Once he’s fully in, you pause to look at him, finding his lips parted and his eyebrows furrowed. He kisses you gently and wraps his arm around you. You don’t waste anymore time and opt to set a steady pace, unafraid to let your sounds escape as his length drags slowly against your walls.

“That’s it.” His voice is strained, like he’s holding something back. He works his hips up gently every time you sink down. “You’re so fucking tight, Sunshine. You feel so good.”

You whimper at his words. The only thing you want is to pleasure him—so you pick up your speed, rolling your hips as you sink back down. When he squeezes your ass, your body jolts.

“How you feeling, baby?” he asks, massaging your butt as you work on top of him.

“Good.” Actually, like you’re on a cloud of pleasure, and every time you take him deep, you think how you want him to be inside you forever. “So good.”

He secures his grasp on you before flipping you over onto your back. You immediately wrap your legs around his waist and lock your ankles together. He moves faster, thrusting at a steady but mind blowing pace. Your eyes roll, and you can barely think coherently with his cock throbbing inside you. His chest presses against yours, the closeness making your body so much hotter.

Sweat forms on your skin, and you tangle your fingers in his hair to lead him down to kiss you. You moan into his mouth when his tip kisses your spot. Every vein in your body is on fire, every thrust brings you closer to Chenle. Sounds of your arousal sound with each movement, joined in harmony with both yours and Chenle’s moans.

He snakes his hand between the two of you, his finger connecting with your sensitive clit. Your pleasured cry is louder than you anticipated, but it pulls a similar sound from Chenle.

“You gonna cum for me?” he mumbles against your mouth. “C’mon, Sunshine, squeeze my cock.”

Your back arches into him, nails digging into his shoulders as your walls clamp down on him like a vice. Euphoria bursts throughout you, and you swear your vision blacks out for a second as Chenle’s thrusts pick up in pace. He fucks you through your orgasm until he lets out a string of curse words.

“Fuck, baby, where do you want it?” he asks, voice tinged with desperation. “I’m so close.”

“Inside. Cum in me.” You lift your hips to match his thrusts, dazed from your own orgasm. All you want is to feel him fill you up.

He drops his head on your shoulder, thrusting one last time before his warm cum coats your walls. Both of you lay there, unmoving. He kisses the base of your neck, panting as he tries to regain his breath.

You pull him up to kiss him, lips working gently on his. He hums against your mouth, nails scratching up and down your thigh.

“Was that worth missing practice?” You grin up at him.

“I’d miss a whole lot more than practice for this.” He smiles, shaking his head as he slowly pulls out of you. “Take a bath with me?”

“Only if you carry me there.” You push his shoulder. “My legs are a little…”

“Just the way they should be.” Chenle winks at you before he gets up to head into the bathroom to start the water. 

Once it’s filled, he scoops you up in his arms and places you in the tub, somehow the perfect temperature, and climbs in behind you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you flush to him.

As you relax with him, allowing him to wash your body ever-so-delicately, you realize this is how it always should’ve been. You feel free, like you’ve been unshackled from your past just by loving Chenle and being loved by him.

It’s as if you’ve made it to your destination—like the journey matters just as much as the end. You look at him over your shoulder, and he kisses you so softly, you let out a sigh of content.

The teams were tied—Chenle was visibly irritated by the way the scoreboard had yet to change with minimal time left on the countdown. This has been the closest game all season—most of the others had been clean sweeps—yet here he is, during the last one of his college career, and he’s close to losing for the first time.

You and Jiyoon sit with Jisung’s parents and Chenle’s parents, leaning forward in deep concentration. Playing with the thread bracelet on your wrist, you watch in earnest as you see the time ticking down. Chenle blocks the ball from going into the net, effectively taking it and running across the court til he gets to the middle. The other team basically bombards him, but as he lines up to take his shot, you grab Jiyoon’s arm and squeeze it. The countdown hits three seconds when he throws it, and it’s like the ball moves in slow motion.

Your jaw hangs open, and right as the clock hits zero, the ball sinks into the net, putting Chenle’s team one point over the other. You and Jiyoon both launch up, shouting and cheering. He turns to you, as if to make sure you saw that, and when he finds you grinning at him, he moves toward you like it’s a reflex.

You leave your spot in the bleachers and meet him in the middle. He picks you up as you wrap your arms around him, and you laugh as you hold on tightly. His smile is wide as he sets you back on your feet, kissing you hard. You giggle against his mouth, and an overwhelming sense of pride settles in your chest.

“You did so well,” you praise him and press your lips to his cheek.

“It’s all ‘cause I had my good luck charm.” He squeezes you tightly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you reply.

The words had never left your mouth so easily, nor have you ever meant them as much as you do now. You’ve only just hatched into the person you’re supposed to be, and with Chenle by your side, you know it’s only going to get better from here.

But you love here, too, because in the distance, finally you see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Finally, you see your sea.

[illyrianbitch]

Beneath the Ashes of Our Broken Oaths

Pairing: Morrigan's Sister!Reader x Azriel

Summary: After abandoning the refuge of Velaris, you, Morrigan’s twin sister, returned to the forsaken Hewn City fueled by a vision for a better future. Now, your estranged family seeks your help when rumors of rebellion spread at a time of utmost inconvenience. Torn between your anger and a desire to protect the good, you begrudgingly agree and are forced to face memories of a past life and the unsettling presence of Azriel– the first man you ever loved.

Warnings: ANGST, Helion being compassionate and its sexy, Inner Circle slander (sorry feyre baby), Y/N is kind of a bitch (but its warranted and a slay), family trauma.

Word Count: 2.9k

Part Two

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

It was Helion, the High Lord of Day, who had seen the flicker of hope in your eyes. A man of discerning wisdom, he recognized your yearnings of a better world. He knew you, he knew your heart, and he trusted your vision— with the promise of your support shall he need it. You knew that your support, in the grand scheme of things, meant nothing to Helion. He had always held a heart of gold, of understanding, and he would have helped you without anything in return. But you had insisted, declared that you needed to give him something to thank him. Your support, he had agreed on. It was all you had left, anyway. 

Now, you stood before him, pleading. Your chest was tight and a calm panic filled your veins. You needed to act. You needed to keep things in place.

"Helion, please," your voice, normally composed, now carried a tremor, a plea that hung in the air, reeking of desperation. Low light poured through stained glass windows as the sun slowly set, painting a kaleidoscope of muted colors on the marble floors.

His eyes, usually filled with warmth, held a regretful sympathy. 

"Y/N, I wish I could," He replied, his voice caressing the air,  "But with the current state of affairs and your father’s growing paranoia, it's too risky. I can't jeopardize my people. My help is needed elsewhere."

Approaching you, he extended a large hand, gently cupping your chin, his touch reassuring and pained. "Give me some time, sweetheart."

Desperation deepened in your eyes, and the intensity of your plea swelled. Aching with fear and worry, your gaze remained locked on his. "I don’t have time. Hewn City corrupts swiftly. You know this.”

Helion sighed, a sound filled with a blend of both compassion and helplessness. "Perhaps you should reach out to Rhysand. His influence might help, now more than ever."

Yor felt a bitterness surface, like bile rising through your throat. A soft scoff left your mouth as you roughly pulled Helion’s hand away from your chin, withdrawing from his touch in offense. "Rhys had a chance to help. He didn’t. He couldn’t care less. I won’t go crawling to him."

Helion's gaze softened, a tender response to your rough tone. He let out a sigh and pulled you close to him once more. His touch sent a wave of comfort through you, something that happened often when you visited him to discuss these things. Helion was a man who loved physical connection— you didn’t mind it. It made you feel seen, understood. Now, you craved that feeling more than ever.

 "I don’t understand this contempt you hold. Surely they will want to help you. They miss you."

You rolled your eyes at this. Of course Helion would think so. As much as you trusted him and his admiration for you, he always did love your family. Your sister and your cousin would always be in your life, tied to you in one way or another. Frustration tinged your voice. 

"It's too late. Going to Rhysand now would draw unwanted attention or, worse, he’d halt my efforts because of some perceived danger."

There was a moment of silence, and your eyes bounced around the room, searching for somewhere to land that wasn’t Helion's burning gaze. Once more, he moved a hand to gently cradle your face.

"You cannot foresee every outcome. You're not a mind reader, Y/N."

A bitter laugh escaped you, and you looked up at him through your lashes. "I might as well be when it comes to family."

 "You've accomplished so much. Allow yourself a reprieve. You can't bear the weight of the innocents lives in Hewn City alone."

You blinked away the tears that welled in your eyes as you admitted, "I can't afford to stop. If I do, they'll think I've given up." 

"No," Helion asserted, his voice unwavering. "Your dedication is commendable, but you need to care for yourself. Let me help you."

You bit the inside of your cheek as you stared at him, his brows furrowed slightly and a sad smile on his face. He moved his hand once more, gently tucking stray strands of hair behind your ear. Then, he ran a finger along it, a soft caress carried by a weight of understanding. You shuddered at the lightness of his touch. 

 "Stay, Y/N,” He suggested, his voice smooth and low, “Let me be a distraction. You take care of others; let someone take care of you."

You leaned slightly into his caress, feeling the warmth radiating from his hand. A fleeting sense of comfort teased at the edges of your weary soul. Yet, reality swiftly reasserted its grasp, and you gently withdrew, a soft sigh escaping your lips.

"I appreciate the offer," you murmured, your voice tinged with regret. Your hand delicately intercepted his, guiding it away from your cheek. "But I can't afford the luxury of distraction right now."

He acknowledged your decision with a small nod. 

“I wish I could do more for you."

A tender smile found its way to your lips and you held his gaze for a fleeting moment of gratitude.

“I know.” You replied before you winnowed away, leaving the luminous embrace of the Day Court behind.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

You were on edge. You had been for the last few weeks. Now, after failing to convince Helion, you could feel it catching up to you, a dark hole forming in the pit of your stomach. It felt like you were being swallowed alive, eaten by your own anxieties and fear. But you didn’t have time for this. You couldn’t risk falling apart, becoming vulnerable. No, not at a time like this.

You had mastered the art of drowning your thoughts, of discarding the weight that threatened to pull you under. Tonight would be no different. The impending storm would be weathered, as it always had been. You would begin to drink your worries away, give them time to manifest, and then shove them away into the crawlspace of your mind, free to collect dust and rot away.

You moved toward a small table where a simple platter of dark amber liquid awaited. Your fingers tightened around a small crystal glass as you poured. As the first sip touched your lips, you felt the familiar burn, a welcomed distraction. The amber liquid offered solace, if only for a fleeting moment.

And then, you stilled. The creak of the floorboards behind you announced their presence, and you felt it—a pricking at the base of your neck, the subtle disturbance of the air as someone entered, no, appeared. Your body tensed instinctively, shoulders rigid, as you ceased your movements. You took a moment to compose yourself, closing your eyes and inhaling deeply-- a futile attempt to ground yourself.

You downed the drink, the warmth spreading through your veins, and set your glass down, a definitive thud echoing in the silence as it met the table. You turned around slowly, the ever-present undercurrent of anxiety beneath your skin momentarily masked by a face of composure. The simple décor of your home surrounded you—the tattered tapestries, broken furniture—all a testament to a life you had built in the aftermath of your return. One that lacked the color that you once held.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” Your voice, laced with both mockery and a hint of something darker, hung in the air.

In front of you, Rhysand stood tall and proud, a figure of authority. His eyes, once familiar and comforting, now held a look determination. His gaze held yours strongly, and for a swift moment, you saw them soften. But the tenderness quickly dissipated, his eyes narrowing with a slight tilt of his head. You ran your eyes along his face, then down his form, taking in the detailed and intricate patterns of his clothing— an embodiment of Night Court royalty. Then, you looked at him again, your jaw clenching. It had been a while since you looked into his eyes, a violet color deeply embedded into your mind. For a moment, his presence consumed your thoughts, distracting you from the other man that you felt in your home.

From the corner of your eyes, you could see the dark figure stepping out from the corners of your room. A darkness licked at your skin.

"Hello, Azriel," you acknowledged him, your eyes remaining fixed on Rhysand.

Azriel's presence was a dark whisper. The edges of your room seemed to blur with shadows as he stood there, a silent observer.

"I’ve come to request your help," Rhysand's voice cut through the stillness, his words carrying the weight of urgency.

Your response was swift, dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, that's rich."

The corners of the room seemed to darken further as Rhysand's frustration manifested in the clenching of his jaw. The subtle play of shadows accentuated the lines on his face, revealing the strain of a desperate plea.

"Please hear me out."

You shook your head. They shouldn’t be here. This was risky, dangerous. You needed them to leave. They needed to disappear, to let you go and never find you again. That was the only way you would be able to survive.

But every fiber in your being was screaming to do the opposite, to embrace your cousin and explain to him, tell him everything. You wanted to get on your knees and beg for the kindness he always showed you, to ask him about your sister. For him to tell you about his life, his love, his child. But you couldn’t. And from inside you, your heart tugged you to Azriel, his stoic form. You couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bear to catch his gaze. It was all so wrong. This disconnect, this anger you felt for them, for your situation, for yourself… it was eating you up. But this wasn't the time. So you pulled your thoughts together and focused on the one thing that had never let you down: your fire.

You reminded yourself of the resentment you held, deep down. Reminded yourself of how they had failed you, separated themselves from you, your vision, and the suffering of the good people here, in Hewn City— your city. Rhysand's city.

Ignoring his original words, you looked at Rhysand with the hint of a wicked grin on your face.

"Where’s your child bride? I heard she’s reading at the same level as your babe. You must be overjoyed."

Rhysand's expression tightened, anger simmering beneath the surface. The mention of his mate touched a clear nerve, and for a brief moment, you reveled in the discomfort you had caused. It was a twisted satisfaction, a way to regain some sliver of control in this unexpected encounter.

His temper flared, a fleeting glimpse of vulnerability replaced by a presence of anger that you knew all too well. He bit down on his frustration, attempting to maintain a semblance of composure. But you pressed on.

“I’m only kidding, take a joke, Rhysand. 500 years and you still have the emotional regulation of a teenager. Nice to see some things don’t change."

Rhysand's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and confusion, observing you and your wall of icy nonchalance. His name sounded foreign on your lips, spoken with such malice and distaste. Even the last time he had seen you, during a bloody war against Hybern, you had not been so venomous. This was a fact you both thought of as you stood here, now, in front of one another again. You moved gracefully through the room, ignoring their presence, and opened a small box that sat on your table. The delicate aroma of sugar wafted through the air. You took a seat.

Azriel and Rhysand exchanged glances. Your fingers idly played with the box, an ornate creation that held delicate, candied treats. With an almost casual indifference, you brought one of the sweet confections to your mouth, savoring the taste as if the weight of their presence meant nothing to you. You could feel the tension building in the atmosphere, heightened by their growing sense of agitation and frustration. It radiated off of them like heat. You welcomed it with open arms, like a freezing child in the cold.

"These are the loveliest desserts,” You explained, bringing the candy close to your face with an examining eye, “Hard to come across here. But I know a guy.”

“Want one?" you offered, dropping your candy back into the box and extending it toward Azriel, whose stoic expression remained unchanged.

"What? Doggy can’t take a treat?" You taunted with a measured smile. You didn’t miss the slight flare of his nostrils, or the way his shadows began to snake up his arms, angry and riled up.

A tense silence lingered as Azriel remained perfectly unmoving, his eyes holding a depth of attentiveness that made you uncomfortable. But the discomfort within you sought distraction, and you continued with your mockery. You waved your hands in the air as a dismissal.

"Bah, you guys are no fun."

The room felt charged as you baited them, your attempts to deflect the gravity of their visit becoming slowly evident in every casual gesture.

Rhysand's frustration reached a boiling point, and he took a step forward, shifting the conversation.

"We didn't come here for sweets and jests. We came for you."

You chuckled, a sound that held a bitter edge. "Me? You must be desperate, Rhysand."

A flicker of hurt crossed his eyes, swiftly replaced by a steely resolve. "There are rumors of rebellion here,” He took a pause, glancing around the room as if he was contemplating continuing. He spoke again, “But, I'm dealing with a larger threat that has me on the defense. I cannot afford an uprising."

Your laughter cut through the air like a blade. "Is the idea of civil unrest among your people an inconvenience? My, what an issue, must be terrible."

Rhysand's patience waned, his features hardening. "Stop this, Y/N. We need your help to prevent a disaster."

You leaned back against your furniture, your eyes narrowing as you regarded him with a chilling indifference. "I've heard nothing about any unrest. You've wasted a trip."

Rhysand's gaze bore into yours, an unspoken challenge. "Azriel has been in Hewn City, gathering information. He's heard the rumors. I know you're lying."

In that moment, a silent battle waged within you. The desire to help, to make a difference, warred against the fear of exposing yourself to the dangers lurking beyond your sanctuary. The memories of the past, the reasons you returned, echoed in your mind. You wanted to help, but you knew their presence could unravel the delicate life you had crafted.

Rhysand's voice softened, a genuine plea beneath the layers of frustration. "Y/N, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t serious. Why do you refuse to acknowledge that?"

Then, his eyes softened, sensing a crack in your facade. Inner turmoil clouded your eyes as you locked gazes with him. The conflict within you played out in the subtle tremor of your fingers, a telltale sign of something bubbling beneath your icy exterior. But as quickly as it manifested, you shut it down, fast enough to resolve Rhys of his attentive eyes. He swallowed and fixed his composure.

"Azriel has gained information that it's not just a rise against me. There are whispers of a rebellion against Keir himself. I need you to listen for information from your father."

Your father. A wave of nausea rippled throughout your body and you clenched your jaw in response. The title sounded strange coming from Rhysand, a stark reminder of your place here, of your place in his family. No, no. You thought. I will not let them see me falter.

Rhysand continued, "Azriel has gathered intelligence, but we need someone on the inside. We need you."

A cynical smile now played on your lips as you taunted them, "Maybe it's time for a change. The mighty High Lord struggling to keep control – how novel."

Azriel, who had maintained a cold silence until now, spoke up for the first time, taking a heavy step forward towards where you sat.

"We both know you do not mean that."

You turned your gaze to him, eyes dark. "And what do you know about what I mean, Azriel? You don't know anything about me."

Rhysand put a hand out in front of Azriel’s form, biting back his retort. The room hung heavy as you finally declared, "You've overstayed your welcome. It's time for you to leave."

Rhysand's eyes met yours with a determined glint.

"I will be back. Family does not give up."

His words pulled out a surge of anger bubbling within you. Family? Without a second thought, you stood up, your chair scraping against the floor. "Family, huh?" Your voice dripped with bitterness, and you moved toward him, anger etched on your face.

But before you could reach him, Rhysand winnowed away with a controlled fury, leaving Azriel lingering.

Azriel stood still, his eyes slightly narrowed, his brows furrowed at you. You met his gaze and felt a wave of guilt through your body, filling the hole where your fury once was a second before. If you didn’t know any better, it seemed as if Azriel was….. Disappointed? Hurt? But you stabilized yourself, pushing the observation away. Your anger, raw and unfiltered, had an intensity that took even him by surprise. He held your gaze. Then, like a wisp of darkness, he too disappeared, leaving you alone with the remnants of unresolved tension and the taste of bittersweet candied treats lingering in the air.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

a/n: hello hello!! welcome to my lil new fic!! im new here and i have no idea what im doing but i hope at least one person enjoys what has become my creative fictional baby. when i tell you this story has a place in my HEART....y/n here is multilayered and complex and flawed but that is why i love her!! serving cunt 24/7!!!

tumblr scares me so any feedback is so very loved and any advice is great too!! mwuah

[astrojulia]

Hello! How are you?

I want to Ask what are the placements which makes people intuitive,clairvoyant, healer, sense energies or becomes spiritual leader?

Really sorry if that was much just curious to know😅

Thank you❤

Placements that indicates Psychic Abilities in the Natal Chart

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      Sources[13][15][16][21]✦Paid Readings

"A psychic is a person who claims to use extrasensory perception (ESP) to identify information hidden from the normal senses", Wikipedia. In this small part, I would like to remind you that before becoming an astrologer, I am a witch and my contact with the mystic is very different and unique. In case you're wondering "what do you mean by different?", I’ve possession and werewolf storie in my family. I say this, because for me psychic abilities goes much deeper than most posts I’ve seen. I WILL NOT BE WRITING "POSSIBLY/LIKELY" IN ALL ASPECTS!!

Remember tha psychic abilities are highly individual and may not be entirely influenced by astrological factors. It's important to approach such concepts with an open mind and respect for the beliefs and experiences of others.

Clairvoyance: The Ability to See Beyond the Ordinary Senses

✧⟶ Neptune in Pisces: Individuals with this placement possess a natural affinity for clairvoyance, allowing them to access glimpses of both the past and the future without the need for divination tools or instruments.

✧⟶ Neptune Dominant: Similar to Neptune in Pisces, but even more pronounced, individuals with a dominant Neptune have an effortless and heightened clairvoyant ability. Their intuition and psychic insights are readily accessible, guiding them through life's mysteries.

✧⟶ Uranus Dominant: While clairvoyance is not the primary focus for those with a dominant Uranus, their unique gift lies in foreseeing the outcomes of various actions. Their non-esoteric intuition enables them to predict reactions and events with ease, even in non-spiritual contexts.

✧⟶ Moon in Pisces: The Moon's placement in Pisces grants a visionary and mystical aspect to an individual's emotional nature. If this aspect remains unafflicted, their clairvoyant tendencies may come to the forefront, enhancing their intuitive perception.

✧⟶ Venus in Pisces: People with Venus in Pisces possess an extremely psychic disposition. Their empathetic and sensitive approach to relationships allows them to tap into psychic energies, providing profound insights into the emotional dynamics between individuals.

✧⟶ Neptune Conjunct, Sextile, or Trine Ascendant: When Neptune forms harmonious aspects with the Ascendant, it bestows a heightened level of psychic and intuitive awareness. These individuals possess an innate ability to perceive and understand the subtle energies and emotions of others.

✧⟶ Neptune 12th House: In the 12th House, Neptune's influence deepens, making individuals compassionate and highly sensitive to emotional nuances in their surroundings. Their "psychic" abilities come naturally to them, and they may experience profound intuitive insights and spiritual connections.

✧⟶ Pluto in Scorpio/8th House: Though not directly related to clairvoyance, Pluto's placement in Scorpio or the 8th House can contribute to the ability to see beyond the surface, uncover hidden truths, and delve into the mystical and transformative realms.

✧⟶ Mercury in Pisces: Psychic and visionary minds, highly intuitive and telepathic on an unconscious level. These individuals possess a unique capacity to access information beyond the ordinary senses.

✧⟶ Moon Sextile Neptune: A potential for developing keen psychic sensitivity, facilitating a deeper connection to the intuitive realm and fostering an understanding of emotions on a profound level.

✧⟶ Moon Trine Neptune: Those with this aspect experience heightened psychic sensitivity, allowing them to tap into the emotional energies around them with ease and offering guidance through their empathetic nature.

✧⟶ Sun Conjunct Neptune: Psychically sensitive and mystically inclined, these individuals possess a profound understanding of the intangible, making them natural seekers of spiritual truths and insights.

✧⟶ Mercury Sextile Neptune: With an aptitude for psychic and mystical fields, these individuals can benefit from dreams and visions, allowing them to access higher planes of consciousness in sleep and meditation.

✧⟶ Mercury Trine Neptune: Possessing a natural gift for psychic and mystical pursuits, these individuals can easily tap into higher realms of consciousness, receiving guidance and instruction from the unseen world through dreams and meditative states.

Clairaudience: The Ability to Hear Beyond the Audible

✧⟶ Uranus in 1st House: Individuals with Uranus in the 1st House possess a unique and heightened sensitivity to astral travel and spiritual experiences. This placement allows them to easily detach their spirit from the physical body, enabling them to explore other dimensions, connect with the dead, and even journey through time.

✧⟶ Moon Sextile Neptune: With the harmonious aspect between the Moon and Neptune, individuals have the potential to develop keen psychic sensitivity, including clairaudient gifts. They possess an intuitive attunement to the subtle energies around them, allowing them to hear messages, guidance, or insights from the spiritual realm.

✧⟶ Moon Trine Neptune: The Moon's trine aspect with Neptune deepens an individual's clairaudient sensitivity, granting them a natural inclination to hear and perceive messages from the spiritual realm. They possess keen psychic awareness, particularly when it comes to emotions and intuitions.

✧⟶ Mercury in the 3rd House: With Mercury positioned in the 3rd House, individuals have a natural aptitude for communication and mental agility. This can extend to clairaudience, where they may hear inner guidance or receive messages from the spirit realm with clarity and precision. Their mind acts as a receptive channel for clairaudient and intuitive thoughts.

✧⟶ Gemini or Mercury Dominant: Individuals with a dominant Gemini or strong Mercury influence in their birth chart possess heightened clairaudient abilities. The communicative and curious nature of these signs and planet facilitates an open channel to receive messages and auditory guidance from the spiritual realm.

✧⟶ 9th House Stellium/Chart ruler in 9th house: When multiple planets cluster in the 9th House, it creates a powerful focus on spiritual exploration, higher knowledge, and intuitive understanding. This concentration of energy may lead to clairaudient experiences, where individuals receive divine messages and insights through auditory perceptions.

✧⟶ Pisces Moon: A Pisces Moon fosters a deep emotional connection to the spiritual and intuitive realms. Individuals with this placement may experience clairaudience as they hear messages from their higher self or spiritual guides, gaining profound insights through auditory sensations.

✧⟶ Neptune in the 3rd House: Neptune's influence in the 3rd House can enhance clairaudient abilities, making individuals more attuned to psychic messages and inner guidance. They may receive auditory impressions from the spiritual realm, tapping into the collective consciousness and higher wisdom.

Clairempathy: The Profound Ability to Sense Emotions

✧⟶ Moon in Cancer: Individuals with the Moon positioned in Cancer possess a powerful and innate clairempathic ability. This placement grants them an extraordinary sensitivity to the emotions and feelings of others. Like a receptive sponge, they absorb and understand the emotional currents surrounding them, making them natural empaths. Their empathetic nature allows them to attune deeply to the emotional needs of those around them, providing comfort and support during times of distress.

✧⟶ Pisces Sun or Rising: The influence of Pisces in the Sun or Rising sign can amplify the clairempathic abilities of individuals. Being ruled by Neptune, the planet of intuition and sensitivity, Pisces imparts a deep emotional understanding and empathy to those with this placement. These individuals can feel the emotions of others on a profound level, often experiencing the emotions of others as if they were their own. Their compassionate and caring nature draws people to them, seeking solace and understanding in their presence. Their clairempathic insights can also extend to the spiritual realm, as they may receive intuitive guidance and emotional impressions from higher planes.

✧⟶ Venus in Scorpio: Venus in Scorpio enhances an individual's clairempathic sensitivity, adding depth and intensity to their emotional perception. They have the ability to sense the hidden emotions and desires that others may not readily reveal. This placement grants them an almost psychic understanding of the emotional undercurrents in relationships and interpersonal dynamics. They can be profoundly attuned to the emotional needs of their loved ones, providing unwavering support and empathy.

✧⟶ 4th House Stellium/Chart Ruler in 4th house: When multiple planets cluster in the 4th House, it creates a concentrated focus on emotions, family, and home. This stellium can enhance the clairempathic abilities of individuals, making them acutely sensitive to the emotional dynamics within their family and domestic environment. Their empathic nature enables them to be natural caregivers and nurturers, creating a harmonious and supportive atmosphere for their loved ones.

✧⟶ Water Dominant: Individuals with a dominant Water element in their birth chart (Cancer, Scorpio, or Pisces) possess heightened clairempathic abilities. The Water signs are naturally empathetic and sensitive, attuned to the emotional frequencies of others. This dominant influence enables them to be emotional conduits, absorbing and understanding the feelings of those around them with ease.

✧⟶ Pisces Moon in the 8th House: This powerful alignment combines the clairempathic nature of Pisces with the transformative energy of the 8th House. Individuals with this placement have a profound ability to sense the deepest emotions and spiritual energies. They may experience clairempathic insights as a gateway to spiritual transformation, gaining intuitive knowledge and understanding through emotional connections.

Clairsentience: The Remarkable Ability to Sense Emotions and Feelings

✧⟶ Neptune in the 9th House: When Neptune graces the 9th House of an individual's birth chart, it bestows a mystical and spiritually attuned nature. This placement fosters a deep connection to the higher realms of consciousness, allowing the individual to tap into their clairsentient abilities with profound intuition. Their clairsentience may manifest as a heightened sense of inner knowing, where they can tune into the emotional states of individuals and sense the energy of different environments, offering profound guidance and understanding to those they encounter.

✧⟶ Moon in Pisces: With the Moon nestled in the ethereal sign of Pisces, individuals possess an innate clairsentient gift. Their emotional sensitivity and intuition are deeply interconnected, allowing them to feel and sense the emotions of others as if they were their own. This empathic nature extends to their surroundings, enabling them to detect the energy and moods of different spaces.

✧⟶ Cancer Sun or Rising: The nurturing and empathetic energy of Cancer, whether it appears in the Sun or Rising sign, enhances an individual's clairsentient abilities. Being deeply connected to their emotions, they effortlessly sense the feelings of others, offering a safe space for people to express themselves without judgment.

✧⟶ 8th House Stellium: A concentration of planets in the 8th House intensifies an individual's clairsentient awareness. This stellium fosters a profound understanding of the hidden emotions and psychological depths within themselves and others. Their clairsentience enables them to penetrate the emotional layers of individuals and recognize the unspoken feelings and desires beneath the surface.

✧⟶ Water Dominant: Individuals with a dominant Water element in their birth chart (Cancer, Scorpio, or Pisces) possess heightened clairsentient abilities. The Water signs are naturally empathetic and emotionally attuned, making them exceptional clairsentients. Their intuitive perception extends beyond the realm of logic, allowing them to grasp the emotional undercurrents and energies around them effortlessly.

✧⟶ Sun Sextile Neptune: The harmonious aspect between the Sun and Neptune enhances an individual's clairsentient potential. This alignment facilitates a deep connection to the spiritual and intuitive realms, making them more receptive to emotional energies and subtle feelings. Their clairsentience may manifest as a heightened sense of intuition and inner knowing, guiding them through life with spiritual insights and emotional understanding.

Clairalience: The Unique Ability to Sense Smells Beyond the Physical Realm

✧⟶ Venus Sextile/Trine Neptune: They may possess a natural inclination to appreciate and notice different scents, finding great joy and inspiration in the world of aromas.

✧⟶ Neptune in the 2nd House: People with this placement may find that their sense of smell is highly attuned to the ethereal and mystical, allowing them to pick up on scents that others might overlook.

✧⟶ Moon in Taurus: People with this placement have a heightened ability to perceive and enjoy different aromas, and they might find comfort and emotional solace in familiar scents. Their clairalient experiences are grounded in the physical realm, with a strong connection to nature and the elements.

✧⟶ Moon in Virgo: Their clairalient abilities may manifest as an acute awareness of different scents and a talent for detecting even the most subtle changes in their environment. This placement can make them highly sensitive to the cleanliness and purity of their surroundings, as well as the effects of various aromas on their emotional well-being.

✧⟶ Moon in the 2nd House: Their sense of smell can be deeply connected to their emotional responses, with certain scents triggering nostalgic feelings or memories from their past. They may seek comfort and emotional satisfaction through pleasant aromas, and their clairalient experiences can be a source of emotional grounding and pleasure.

Telepathy: The Remarkable Ability to Communicate Beyond Words

✧⟶ Mercury Sextile Neptune: Their telepathic abilities may be enhanced, allowing them to tap into higher planes of consciousness during sleep and meditation. They can receive vivid dreams and visions, and may even bring back profound insights and instructions from the subconscious or spiritual realms to their conscious mind. This aspect bestows a natural receptivity to non-verbal forms of communication, making them more attuned to subtle cues and messages from others.

✧⟶ Mercury Trine Neptune: They can effortlessly access higher planes of consciousness during sleep and meditation, receiving profound guidance and insights from the spiritual realm. Their dreams and visions may offer valuable symbolic messages and spiritual teachings. As skilled telepaths, they have a natural ability to connect with others on a deeper, soul-to-soul level, transcending verbal communication and understanding the unspoken emotions and thoughts of those around them.

✧⟶ Jupiter Sextile Neptune: They may find themselves drawn to religious, spiritual, or philosophical groups where they can explore and nurture their psychic gifts. This aspect fosters a sense of faith and trust in their intuitive perceptions, making them open to receiving and interpreting messages beyond the ordinary senses.

✧⟶ Jupiter Trine Neptune: They are encouraged to follow their inner guidance and lead a life guided by spiritual truths. This aspect enables them to tap into higher realms of consciousness with ease, receiving divine inspiration and mystical insights. They may be naturally drawn to religious or philosophical pursuits, seeking deeper meaning and understanding in the mysteries of life.

Mediumship: "I see dead people..."

✧⟶ Moon Sextile/Trine Pluto: Their mediumistic abilities are enhanced by their emotional sensitivity, allowing them to connect with the subtle realms and receive messages from spirits. They may experience vivid dreams and intuitive visions that offer guidance and comfort to themselves and others.

✧⟶ Sun Sextile/Trine Pluto: They may have a natural talent for mediumship, as their connection with the spiritual realms is harmoniously aligned with their core self-expression. They radiate a sense of empathy and compassion, attracting others seeking solace and messages from departed loved ones.

✧⟶ Venus Sextile/Trine Pluto: They can forge deep connections with both the living and the spirit world, facilitating communication with grace and compassion. Their mediumship may be a source of healing and inspiration for those seeking closure and understanding.

✧⟶ Jupiter Sextile/Trine Pluto: They are drawn to spiritual exploration and may seek to develop their mediumistic abilities through study and practice. Their optimism and faith in the unseen world open them to profound spiritual experiences and insights.

✧⟶ Mercury Conjunct Pluto: When Mercury, the planet of communication, is conjunct Pluto, the individual's thoughts and perceptions are deeply influenced by intuitive and psychic insights. They possess a natural gift for receiving and interpreting messages from the spirit world, making them adept mediums and channels for spiritual guidance.

✧⟶ Venus Conjunct Pluto: They possess a deep sensitivity to spiritual energies and may experience strong psychic impressions. Their mediumistic abilities are intertwined with their sense of aesthetics, making their connections with the spirit world artistic and emotionally resonant.

✧⟶ Mars Sextile/Trine Pluto: This aspect provides individuals with the ability to channel spiritual energies into action. They may find that their mediumship is most effective when combined with healing practices or spiritual service. Their compassionate and gentle approach to mediumship enables them to provide support and solace to those seeking to connect with the other side.

✧⟶ Neptune in the 12th House: This placement grants them the ability to tap into the collective unconscious and the deepest layers of the human psyche.

Healing: Channeling Energies for Restoration and Well-being

✧⟶ Pluto in Scorpio/8th House: Individuals with Pluto placed in Scorpio or the 8th House possess a unique capacity to heal supernatural illnesses, such as curses and "quebranto."

✧⟶ Mercury in Virgo/6th House: Ability to heal the physical body through magical, non-scientific means. Their intuitive understanding of the human body and its subtle energy systems allows them to access healing energies and apply them to support well-being. They may excel in practices such as energy healing, herbalism, or other alternative therapies.

✧⟶Moon 6th house/ Sextile or Trine Neptune: Ability to heal anxiety and fears through magical, non-scientific means.

✧⟶ Uranus Sextile/Trine Mercury: Their intuitive and psychic potential is heightened, enabling them to tap into higher levels of awareness and wisdom. With an innovative approach to healing, they may explore unconventional methods that lead to transformative and profound healing experiences for themselves and others.

✧⟶ Mars Sextile/Trine Neptune: This aspect provides individuals with the opportunity to work with psychic forces without being adversely affected. They have earned spiritual merits in past lives, making them adept at channeling healing energies and aiding others in their journey towards well-being. Their healing practices may involve a combination of intuition, energy work, and physical efforts to promote healing.

✧⟶ Venus Sextile Neptune: This aspect bestows a potential for a strong sixth sense, which is intuition. Their natural compassion and intuition can guide them towards healing practices that involve empathy and understanding, making them intuitive and nurturing healers.

“Meany” aka Manipulation and Curses:

✧⟶ Neptune 3rd House: Hypnotic. Manipulating people for their benefit should be effortless.

✧⟶ Venus or Mercury trine/sextile Neptune: They really know how to allure people.

✧⟶ Neptune 9th House: Very easy to manifest and make this person's wishes come true; they have the ability to shape their reality.

✧⟶ Neptune 12th House: They have the ability to cast irreversible curses.

✧⟶ Pluto 12th House: They have the ability to discover people's secrets without even trying, using these secrets for their own benefit.

✧⟶ Uranus 12th House: Can manipulate the others memories and view of reality.

(CC) AstroJulia Some Rights Reserved

[boba-beom]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ forever valentine | CHOI YEONJUN

pairing: bsf!yeonjun x gn!reader

genre: drabble; fluff

wc: 900

warnings: yeonjun being cheesy, lowercase intended, not proofread

a/n: 1/2 of my entry for @matchaxmatcha's valentine's event <3 have a cozy valentine's day guys!

it's been a while since you've exchanged songs with yeonjun, knowing that your best friend has influenced majority of your music taste to this day.

the first time you met, you recommended songs then made each other playlists, and every end of the month you would use a specific website to compare your top ten most played songs from the past month.

your usual hang out consists of sitting around and talking while playing music from your blended playlist, introducing more songs that the other potentially hasn't listened to yet. sometimes you're doing work on your laptop and yeonjun's either playing the music aloud or through his headphones to limit distracting you.

the latter happening right this moment.

your fingers are typing away on your keyboard, thinking face strong, and he's sitting beside you on the couch. from your peripheral vision, you see his black curtain bangs swaying in the same direction he bops his head to the music.

intrigued, you tap on his shoulder and watch him lift the left ear cup, turning his body slightly to give you a yes? expression.

"what song are you listening to?"

"I think you'll like this one, it's best part by daniel caesar." he takes off the headphones and places it over your ears, your hands brush as you adjust it to your ears.

you nod your head from the soothing blend of the artists' voices, a smile appearing on your lips, and when you look over at yeonjun, he's mirroring your expression.

taking off the headphones from your ears, you give them back to yeonjun, and your fingers brushing against each other again.

"connect to the speaker, I don't mind listening." you insist and he does.

"I've been having issues with the app lately." he states, stretching to rest his arm on the back of the sofa behind you.

you scrunch you brows softly, not noticing any issues with yours.

"how so? you gonna complain to them?"

he nods slowly, feigning a confused expression.

"I ought to complain to Spotify for you not being this week's hottest single." he says with full confidence.

you roll your eyes and shake your head at him, laughing at his corny joke. and he joins you.

"that sucked, jjun." you pinch his side in jest and he retracts with a higher pitched laugh.

"but it's true." he whines, "why are you still single?"

his question stops you for a second. he wasn't joking around anymore, if anything he picks up your laptop and places it aside.

"I believe the right one will arrive in due time, is all." you answer him honestly.

he slowly nods.

again, your confused expression returns when he stands up and walks over to the dining room table, carrying out a bag and a small bouquet of flowers.

the muscles in your face relax, your small frown turning into a pout. you've never seen yeonjun so romantic — to anyone else, or to you.

"I didn't know how to come about this, but ___," he takes a breath mid sentence. "will you be my valentine? not just for today, but for next year, and the one after that until the foreseeable future?"

he goes down on one knee with the bouquet of flowers in one hand and the other holding the red gift bag, while you're leaning forwards on the couch.

"yeonjun.." your hands envelope his with the bouquet and he smiles once he feels your thumbs caressing the back of his hand. "I would love to be your valentine."

"forever my valentine?"

"forever your valentine, jjun." you wrap your arms over his shoulders, bringing him to move and sit back on the couch with you.

burying your face into the crook of his neck, you sigh pleasantly in his hold. you weren't in a rush to find a significant other and neither was he, but you always spent time with each other. who knew you the way he did, and vice versa?

you were willing to go the mile with him.

"I have one more thing for you." he places the strings of the gift bag to intertwine with your fingers. "now, you genuinely might think I'm being so corny after this but it's fine." he laughs.

fiddling with the strings, you remove the tape securing the bag and peep inside. you reach into the bag, pulling out what seemed to be an engraved acrylic sheet with the first song yeonjun introduced to you. the song that made you realise just how much you cherish him.

"it is quite corny, but I love it."

you smile up at him and he has that beautiful grin on his face again. the one where his eyes hold so much love and affection, and his grin adorned by his pretty teeth to the point it could be contagious in the best way possible.

"I'm just glad you didn't turn me down." he chuckles sheepishly.

"I'm surprised you even asked in the first place." you place the gifts and flowers aside.

you both lean back on the couch, hands against one another and your fingers fiddling with each others. a new song plays, one that either of you haven't played before but you can tell yeonjun likes it as much as you do.

it was fitting to say the least. a new song to associate this significant moment, and you love it. and so does yeonjun.

[callmelyc]

Back thinking about Oracle Lance but this time it's him foreseeing Keiths betrayal to him and instead of trying to stop it he aids him in secret bc lance trust Keith more than anyone else and if his betrayal is lurking it must be for a reason (it is)

Lance is an oracle for the empire, his job is simple and to the point: have visions and make sure they're as detailed as possible.

He is to be alone, to be nothing but a tool in hopes he can turn the future to their favor. That all changes when Keith comes into the picture.

Keith is Lances new guard, his servicer if you will. His job is to keep eyes on lance 24/7, make sure he shares every vision he has, every inkling of divine intervention and wisdom.

But to Lance, Keith is so much more. He's his confident, his first real friend here and though Keith has never seen his face due to the veil magicked onto his face, Lance is so sure he feels Keith looking right into his eyes everytime they talk. Usually people will look past him, a select few will even look down in respect. But Keith? Keith has never feared meeting lances eyes even though they're hidden away.

It doesn't take long for Lance to fall in love with him. The realization hits like a tidal wave and with it his visions become clearer than a sunny day. They grow in power, in detail and lance has never felt so much pure quintessence race through his veins.

He doesn't tell the empire his visions have changed in strength least they take Keith away. Because if they discovered he did the one thing he was never to do, they'd have hell to bring down upon him.

Lance was never to be in love. He was never to hold lust in his heart. Yet here he was lusting after a man sent to guard him and keep him in check.

The day he accepts his love, Lance is sitting with Keith in his private gardens. The vision that hits him is harsher than anything he'd had so far.

In it he foresees something that leaves him gasping for breath: Keith's betrayal.

There's fire, the smell of smoke and screams for an intruder.

/"Capture him!"

"The emperor is dead!"

"Kill him"/

Blood on a blade, blood on pale hands, blood seeping through the slice on lances back....and purple eyes looking at him with a fierce determination

/"I'm sorry"

"No ....you aren't"/

"Lance?" Keith voice sounds so far away and concerned but lance can't break free from the cold taking over his veins.

/"You're right ....I'm not."/

"lance! Lance what's wrong-"

Lance chokes as he snaps free from it all, reality bringing him back to earth in a snap. He knows he's shaking, he knows Keith is concerned but all lance can think about is this:

If Keith is here for a reason, if Keith is to take this empire down then all Lance can do is give his aid. Because above all else he trusts Keith more than anyone, including the empire.

"I'm ok- just a vision"

Keith's hands grip his arms, it's steadying in its own way though it has no right to be after lance learned Keith would kill him.

"what did you see?"

If lance didnt know any better, he'd almost think Keith was genuinely concerned. "I saw the emperor, leading all to glory."

Lance watched Keiths face force itself into neutrality hoping the lie was enough

"Is that so?"

"Yes..." He takes Keith's hand squeezing it "in three full moons, everything will change."

He hopes it's hint enough, that Keith will understand that's the time he has left.

and their evening ends with Lance aware that his remaining moments with this man will be all he has left to love him.

+ lore notes 🎉 bc I've really thought about this ver alot (I have a second ver in my head somewhere this one's winning out)

-It's fantasy vld au

-Keith is a blade/part of the resistance that goes undercover to get Intel and ends up with the job of taking down the empire from the inside (he is not the only one planted there)

-lance doesn't have a family because the empire scopes out people born with the Oracle talents and scoops them away to raise them brainwashed from the start.

-lance was trained by the empire druids and is one of the only oracles not regularly punished by them bc he stays in his lane

-lance learned very early on to always say exactly what they want to hear so he always words his visions in just the right amount of vague details that it satisfies them and also isn't a full lie

-when he tells Keith the emperor will lead all to glory he purposefully leaves out who will be the one to do so bc he knows Keith will be the one the ppl look up to once all is said and done even if he refuses to be an emperor

-shiro having been a prisoner of the druids long ago, does not trust Lance bc he sees the oracles as extensions of the druids

-oracles are just quintessence sensitive beings that can't control it. Druids have tried and failed to turn them into proper alchemist and those they try have died.

-lance is heavily watched bc of this also, he's the remaining one with enough strength to be of interest. Had Keith and the rebellion not come he'd have been the next experiment attempt

[ghostsvacuumcleaner]

Shades of Red

art in the cover by @ave661 and @shkretart !

chapter one | chapter two | ao3 | masterlist ✦ Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x civilian f! reader ✦ Summary: The sole survivor of a terrorist attack that killed over a hundred. The soldier responsible for saving her. He wants to help you, but his own trauma make him withdraw when he wants to get closer and intoxicate when he wants to remedy. He kisses your scars and hopes you'll runaway. He wants you to run away. But you won't. ✦ TW: NSFW, explicit, f!reader, little to none f! physical appearence descriptions, canon typical violence, mentions of abuse and trauma/PTSD, bit of gore, mental illness mentions, slowburn;

A/N: Hello girlies! This is the very first time I get the courage to actually post something I wrote. I've been reading y'all fics behind my screen for so much time now I figured I could start postingggg; so please be gentle with the feedbacks, but be also sincere ♥ also, English is not my first language and although I'm fluent, there might be a mistake or two along the way. Don't feel shy in pointing it out if you see any! Moreover, this will be a long ass one I'm pretty sure, but I might get myself some more courage to post my smut oneshots in some near future. Hope you enjoy! x

Chapter 1 - The Incident | 3.3k

There was ash in the air everywhere. That scenario didn’t frighten him – in fact, Ghost was absolutely sure that at that point in his life, almost nothing could fright him. He had seen much worse things before, he thought silently as he walked towards the building completely destroyed. There was debris everywhere – the building had not collapsed completely, but some parts did not survive the flames and now there seemed to be not even a little bit of life in that place. There were still small portions of flames spread through a few heaps of debris, a terrible smell of wood and burnt concrete; but nothing of that could be worse than the smells of dead, flattered human flesh that once or again invaded his nostrils.

His eyes rolled around in search of any record of life. In vain, he knew: there was no chance that any civilian had survived that. A cruel, dark bombing, a violent and destructive terrorist act. The only goal was to destroy any form of life that could inhabit there, and possibly it had been obtained without any further circumstances. When Price sent the radio search order to all members of the 141, he made it very clear that those efforts were in vain. They would find nothing. We lost today, he said. We could not foresee this, nor can we remedy it. It was a burden they had to cope with on a daily basis - the often inability to do something, to act, was a burden that a soldier should carry. It was part of the job.

Ghost pressed the point button in his ear. “Is anyone listening?” He asked, his eyes checking the entire perimeter of the building behind the skull mask that covered his face. “Have you found something, LT?” Soap answered, his voice hushed by the efforts. “No. I’m making an entrance, there’s nothing out here.” the lieutenant stated, kicking off a few remaining pieces of concrete from the front of his feet and laying the rifle in his hands. Ghost stood in front of the main entrance to the building – that place that should have looked like a reception at some point in the near past - and the movement of his boots against the ground caused the roof above his head to shake a little, and some ash particles fell onto his helmet. He observed the movement, standing still for a few seconds, only for warranty; he did not want to end up becoming one more of those burial victims. 

When the concrete whisper finally stopped stirring his ears, he entered. The lamp of his helmet lit up, and he looked around. His eagle eyes did not lose an inch of that entire perimeter, his ears attentive as those of a bat. He was looking for a sign, whatever it was: a presence, a scream, voices, calls for help. Anything. Anyone.

All he could hear were the sounds of the structure of the building, apparently ready to give in. Ghost tried to enter one of the apartments; his boots sole hit the semi-destroyed grinded surface of the door, and he broke in. He looked around. An enormous smashed chandelier rested violently against the bloody body of a child. 

Many people said Simon was the type of man to have no feelings anymore. That time, scars and trauma had taken from him all and every kind of humanity. He had become a soldier—one of the good, one of the invincible, but nothing aside from that. Nothing but a soldier.

Perhaps that sentence became so repetitive that at some point, he, himself began to believe it. His face remained motionless. The sound of the blood drops hanging on the floor filled his ears, and he snorted for a moment, pressing the point into his ear. “First floor, apartment 102,” he said, coordinating other operators to head to start collecting the bodies. 

His eyes went up to the ceiling, facing the huge blunt in the structure that caused the luster to fall. Maybe the parents' bodies were still there somewhere to be found, he thought. But that wasn’t his job, and unfortunately he didn’t have all the time in the world. He then traced his steps out of the apartment, looking around. As he kept going upstairs, the lantern lit up one hand or another thrown out of a pile of debris. Broken legs, the kinds of horrors that haunt the dreams of ordinary people. 

As Price had said and as he imagined to be fact, there were no survivors. Even when he reached the last floor, without any hope that he would find any movement that were not spasms of lifeless bodies, he tried. He tried to find someone, to do his job with all the mastery he could. His voice echoed through the entire floor, looking for anyone who could answer, but as expected, there was no response.

All that was left was the subsoil, the garage. When he came down the lobby again and found a portion of the staff dragging out some bodies, placing them in black bags, one of the doctors caught his attention. “Lieutenant. Have you finished checking around? Nothing up there?” The man asked, pulling his glasses from the tip of his nose. Ghost is negative. “No, nothing,” he said bluntly.

The doctor seemed to bite his own jaw with some strength, in disappointment. He has baffled. “You don’t even have to check down there. If those above didn’t survive...” he said, giving on his shoulders. Ghost watched him in silence for a few seconds, before finally answering, “Focus on your work, doc. I’ll finish my own.” He said in a nod before starting to push with his crude hands the stones that covered the entrance to the stairs that led to the garage.

His steps echoed. Ghost walked through the parking lot, passed pillar by pillar, checked every car. There were bursting pipes releasing hot steam, a gas leak as well he could tell – and he didn’t want to be there to see what would happen if some kind of ignition occurred. He hastened his steps. He took a deep breath; he was about to press his point and give up, claiming that there were no survivors, but a stifling sound interrupted his action. He looked around, looking for the source of the heavy breath and the little grumbling of pain he heard. His eyebrows cracked almost instantly and he turned around himself, looking around. All his senses were activated at that moment – he began to walk through among the few cars there, following the sound he had heard and then, a hand hitting the air dropped debris to the side of what seemed to be a body. He approached cautiously, throwing the light from his helmet’s lantern in the direction of the sound, and to his surprise, although not perceptible, there was the only survivor of the bombing: you.

A small, female frame shrunk from a pile of debris. Your hair was covered in ashes, your face - the dirty cheeks with the blackness of the material, your arms painted in the scarlet of your blood flowing freely to the ground, glass blades attached painfully to your soft skin. There was a cut down from the top of your forehead until the beginning of your left eyebrow. The completely messy strands of your hair fell against your face, opaque, bright. The expression of fear on your eyes turned into pure terror the moment they met his own, those small cold orbs inside the mask. You instinctively tried to move away from him, push your body away from those debris, away from that huge and frightening man.

When you threw your body to the side, all you could feel was your back against the cold floor, your left leg refused to work. You felt nauseous, stupid, your head turned. Your mouth trembled in a failed attempt to say something, the silence already lasted for seconds enough for you to fear his frame standing ever so tall and quiet. “Please don’t hurt me.” You managed to say, your voice engulfed in a cry that refused to go out. It wasn’t as if it was going to work; if he was one of the terrorists who caused this incident and really wanted to hurt you, then you were at his mercy and there was little you could do about it.

Maybe, if you were in a better mental and physical condition, you’d be able to identify that the rifle in the hands of the man in front of yourself was of a military model. That all his gear pointed out that he was an operator, someone willing to help. Your mind could not process all the necessary information about him at the given moment, although.

“I will not hurt you, lass.” He explained, and for a moment you felt your chest swell in air and it was hard to contain the immense desire to cry. The heavy steps of the man were made against your small, wounded body. He lowered himself, letting the rifle rest next to him quietly. You gulped in dry, still nervous with your eyes raised to his, now a little closer to you. He wasn’t looking at you — he was looking down, seeming to assess how hurt you were. “I’ll tell you what’s happening now. Okay?” He asked, slowly and calmly, his cold eyes now facing your own, visualizing your soul behind the cover of this hurt shell of yours. You stumbled, and he continued. “I’ll take that away from you, and I need you to help me helping you. Alright? You will be well. I just need you to hold your leg and when I push it over, you roll. Understood?” The man asked, his firm and deep voice being the first source of human contact you had since the lightning caused you to wipe out unconscious hours before. You came in for confirmation.

Ghost nodded back and raised his fingers, counting to three. Contrary to what you might have imagined, he didn’t need to do much to lift the huge concrete block that blocked his left leg from moving — he even had some ease in doing so. He held the concrete above his body, his arms backed over you, he sat down. “Roll.” he commanded, and you obeyed as you could. You leaned her hands on the ground and gave a boost; one of your hands instinctively went to the wounded leg, in an attempt to warm up the pain now felt by finally having released it from the rubble. You couldn’t hold a moan of pain, but he was quickly stifled by the sound of concrete hitting the ground when Ghost let it fall back.

You mentally begged that you could endure that. Your eyes were filled with tears, and a certain despair arose through your throat, your mouth. The anguish of finally feeling the unpleasant smell of the environment, the nervousness of realizing that very possibly, few other people survived that disaster, it was overwhelming your already troubled mind. 

Ghost didn’t lose a second in time; he finished positioning the rifle around his body and you felt his arms wrapping you by the waist and the folds of your knees, and he lifted it up with immense ease – it was as if you were featherweight. The gloves in his hands were rough against the sensitivity of your skin, but his touch was as cautious as possible. You could say without a doubt that this soldier of at least twice your height was doing his best not to hurt you any more than you’re already wounded.

“What is your name?” He finally asked, his rifle resting on his back, and you resting over his arms. He wasn’t looking at you – his eyes were fixed ahead, in the direction he was carrying you to, the exit. You answered, and he nodded in acknowledgement. “You can call me Ghost. I am a soldier, yes? We will take care of you.” He said in a clear tactical attempt to calm your nervousness down.

You sat down with your head. “Amelie Miller... Did you find her? My friend, she... did you find her?” You asked, your body trembled as you came to realize his eyes were now boring into yours.

He seemed to look for words that would not hurt you as much as the ones he had to say, but he for one, was not good with words or comforting.

“I’m sorry, girl,” he whispered, in a sigh. “there are no more survivors. You were the only one.”

~ x ~

Your head hurt. Everything hurt; body, arms. There was a blanket around your shoulders and a bottle of water still sealed in your hands. The look in your eyes was empty, blurred; there were a lot of people there. Many doctors, many operators - soldiers like Ghost. One of them wore a mohican, the other had thick eyebrows. The captain was talking to them in an isolated corner, the doctors were talking to each other about your condition, about what should be done from now on. There were agents from the British intelligence surrounding the site, and there were about hundreds of black bags stretched on the floor, closed. You still felt pain, although the healings now prevented blood from flowing freely through your forehead as before. The glass pieces had been removed from your arms, your face was clean now and even so, you never felt so dirty in your entire life.

Every time you dare to blink, you could swear that you would faint. Your hands were getting weaker, loosening around the bottle. The sudden sound of the bottle falling to the ground caught the attention of one of the men there – the captain. As far as you could realize, he called himself something Price.

“Miss.” He said, coming closer to you. Suddenly, there were eyes on you from every angle possible; all of the other soldiers turned to the ambulance where you were sitting now. You slowly raised your face to look back at Price, and he continued. “I’m not going to ask if it’s okay, this question is rhetorical. You need to be hydrated.” He was bowing down in front of you, taking the bottle he dropped and opening it, offering it to you. Your eyes checked at the bottle for a few seconds and your trembling hand finally grabbed it, drinking until the last drop you could - all at once. You could feel your throat burning, your skin seemed to be in living flesh. The appearance of your wounds was not as unpleasant as the feeling of having them, but you knew that all that would leave you some ugly scars.

You could not care about it now – in fact, couldn’t care about anything at all. Your mind was empty and you never felt so apathetic in such a distressful situation. 

“What am I going to do now?” You asked, in a whisper, your eyes completely lost. “I—what am I going to do...?,” you repeated, and there was nothing but an absolute feeling of raw pain and loss in your voice right at that moment, for as much as you tried to hide it.

Price swelled his chest, and his lips compressed into a line. “You don’t have to worry about anything now. We’ll take care of everything,” he assured. “The government has a great defense program for disasters like this, you won’t be without a roof,” he finished, trying to calm you down. You closed your eyes and shaken your head, but you did not respond. There was nothing to say, nothing to do; what could be done besides trusting that everything would go well? Trust that they would have a plan for you, a shelter, doctors, a chance of living after you were supposed to die in such a horrific way?

You didn’t even know if you wanted all that. Didn’t even knew if you wanted to be the only survivor. Surely not: at that time, you would rather have died among the other more than a hundred people who were now in black bags scattered on the floor in front of you. You felt so much - you felt gratitude for their work, for saving you, but at the same time you couldn’t help but to feel like a fraud for surviving while other died. Others that, somewhat, deserved more than you to live. There was so much in your mind now, but little that you could really synthesize and make sense of.

You drowned your face between your hands, unable to cry, but wanting so deeply to hide from them, from those men, from doctors, from the press, from everything. Wanting to be away from everything, wanting to be dead for once.

A little further away, Ghost observed you. His broad arms crossed, his posture relentlessly perfect as always. His eyes looked at your gestures, scanned your body —all those wounds, poor girl, he thought. Although he was sure there was no more of a heart in his chest, he felt comprehensive towards your emotions. The horrors you had lived in such a short space of time, the unbearable consequences that that meant for your poor mind. The trauma. The pain.

He could not help but think that he saw a bit of himself in you. Not a bit of Ghost – a little bit of Simon. A little bit of the little Simon who felt an immeasurable strain in his chest, a void that could not be filled. 

When the doctors finally helped you to get up in the ambulance and sit on one of the available chairs, your face turned over your own shoulder and you found his eyes stuck to yours. It felt intimidating in some way; perhaps the way his confidence didn’t allow him to look away while you stared at him, or something in the way he seemed capable of reading right through you like a good book of his. He was a savior to you, and somehow it still seemed his persona was conflicting with the one of a savior. He was something else, perhaps still a benefactor, but somehow, a very dangerous man.

There was not a single feeling in his eyes, quite the opposite. There was pure coldness, and yours on the other hand carried some gratitude and ingratitude at the same time. You felt grateful that he had saved you, but at the same time, felt angry at him for not having let you die. You entered the ambulance, and your eyes continued to lock a gaze against his until the moment someone closed the car door from outside.

Ghost turned his eyes at last, and saw Price approaching.

“Fuck.” The captain whispered, laying his hands on his waist, looking at all the misfortune that the incident had caused to that place. “How many bodies?” He asked, looking at Simon with the corner of his eyes.

“A hundred and two so far.” Ghost answered quietly.

“And have you found the bodies of the sons of bitches who did this?” Price said with some disgust and hatred attached to his voice. Ghost assented positively, which made Price crack the dust almost instantly into a distressed expression.

“Motherfuckers.” He grunted, turning to the rest of the team. Soap, who had been remaining in silence for thorough all the search, dared to finally speak.

“We have a lot to report, hm?” He raised his eyebrows, and received a Price assent in response.

“To the headquarters." The captain ordered, making his way to the helicopter that awaited for them, and they left.

[rainbowsky]

I just want to address this because I've seen a lot of international turtles freaking out and getting all excited about it - the supposed movie GG and DD are set to star in together.

I'm a bit surprised that anyone takes this even remotely seriously. Just a reminder that Douban is a user edited site just like IMDB and Wikipedia. Don't be sucked into ridiculous things like this. I put the chance of GG and DD starring in a film together at about 0.05%.

As I have said in the past, GG and DD are highly unlikely to ever work together again - at least not in the foreseeable future. Their fans wouldn't stand for it - and we should all know this by now. The fan wars would be horrible, unprecedented and potentially career-destroying on both sides. The arguments over which got higher billing than the other - that alone would burn down the internet.

They're also both top stars, so it's unlikely a production could afford them both, or that their schedules would coincide in such a way as to make a collaboration like this possible.

If they were to take a chance on working together again - and for countless reasons it would be a huge risk for them both - I doubt they'd do so unless the project and the production team were so high profile and undeniable that fans on both sides couldn't help but be excited for the opportunity and couldn't help but accept that it was a good choice for them. Wong Kar Wai, Ang Lee and the like. Even then, I'm not sure fans would accept it.

Never lose sight of how deeply the hatred runs between their two fan groups, or of how massive an impact that's going to have on their future choices, or on any chance of their appearing together.

All that aside, GG and DD are individuals who've worked hard to forge their own separate careers and build their individual successes. I don't think they'd be eager to throw back in together on a project so that they can be further lumped together and so there can be further public speculation about them and their relationship.

We're 5 years out since the Untamed and GG and DD STILL can't even appear on the same stage at an awards show, and turtles seriously think they're going to appear in a film together?

Please wake up and stop setting yourselves up for disappointment. Such ideas are nothing more than a wild fantasy, no matter how appealing they may seem. I urge every fan to try to come down to earth, take care of yourselves by being realistic and not buying into ridiculous rumors.

We're unlikely to even get a statement about this fake project. At most it will quietly disappear from Douban.

Remember: Melons are to be enjoyed but never believed.

[wizzard890]

who do you consider to be the definitive "your guy" of yhe french revolution?

oh buddy you must be new here

[captain-hawks]

Happy spicy, sweaty sleepover!

I just know you’ll write something so, so delightful for band!AU Jean with a broken AC. Like, I know know it.

💋mojogojocasahouse

jean kirstein x f!reader

c: 18+ only, exes to lovers speed run, band!au jean, masturbation, fingering, oral sex, anal fingering, squirting, unprotected p in v, creampie

SPICY SLEEPOVER WEEKEND — HEAT WAVE EDITION

There has to be correlation, somewhere, between one’s innate penchant for masochism and the subsequently terrible, irresponsible, downright terrible decision to call one’s ex-boyfriend to help fix a busted appliance.

But alas, here you are, sweating to death in the midst of the worst heat wave the city’s seen in years with no qualified, local repairman available any time in the foreseeable future—because clearly your broken air conditioner is somehow considered fucking trendy right now. 

The thing is, it’s not the first time the machine has let out an ominous death rattle before the motor inside fell into an ominous silence. It’s not even the second time it’s happened, or the third.

But every other goddamn time it did, Jean still lived here in your shared apartment. And his deft fingers, paired with years of tinkering with guitars, amps, speakers, and pedal boards, somehow led him to find the fix time and time again. 

It’s been three months since your messy breakup, three months of deafening silence and empty space in your one-bedroom apartment. He’s been living with Eren and Conny, though half of his clothes are still strewn about in your closet—until he finds his own place. 

You have half a mind to drag the pile out shirts out and toss them at him one by one, if only to cover up the torturous sight you’ve been subjected to for the better part of an hour.

Jean Kirstein, for all intents and purposes, is an attractive man. And you were prepared for it, the slight inconvenience of the sight of his soft brown hair, sharp jaw, intense eyes, and tall form standing in the hallway when you opened the front door.

But Jean Kirstein standing in the middle of your living room, muttering a string of expletives under his breath as he swiftly bats a hand against the temperamental air conditioner before standing up straight to peel off his soaked t-shirt? The reminder of the way the tattoos covering his arms and chest and back look when they’re coated in a slick sheen of sweat? The ripple of his muscles as he twists a wrench? 

That’s another fucking problem entirely.

“You don’t look too hot.”

Jean’s voice spears through your thoughts, and you look up from where your hands are folded in your lap to see him standing in front of you in the kitchen. Seated atop the kitchen counter if only for the relief of the cool marble beneath you, one of your idly swinging feet nudges his knee. 

His voice is a bit rough, and you can only assume that he came right to your apartment from band practice. 

(You try not to think too hard about how he knows exactly what that voice does to you—the way you barely made it past the entryway most times coming home after his shows, your skirt shoved up as he fucked you up against the wall beside the coat rack.)

(The way he’d call you late at night while he was away on tour, his voice a low rasp as you hung on to his every word and touched yourself for him.)

“I’m very hot, actually,” you reply with a raised brow, though you’re well aware you probably do look like an overheated, exhausted mess—you’ve hardly gotten any sleep all week, even with a fan right beside your bed. 

Jean steps closer and leans in, standing between your spread legs, and your heart feels like its lodged in your throat as he holds your gaze. Slowly, he brings his hand up to rest against the side of your neck, fingers easing their way against your damp skin one by one in a way that makes your breath catch. 

“You should take a cool shower,” he suggests, his thumb ghosting over the front of your throat before he swiftly steps back and walks away, heading back into the living room.

Fingers clasping the edge of the countertop, you inhale sharply.

Admittedly, Jean was right about the shower—you feel a bit more steady on your feet as the water washes over your face and trickles down your naked body, washing away the uncomfortable, sticky layer of sweat. 

Maybe it’s a little misguided, the way you let your thoughts get away from you as you glance down at your soapy tits, remembering how much Jean used to love how sensitive they are. How he’d groan and curse over the way you’d writhe when he toyed with your pebbled nipples, the way you’d whimper and moan as he sucked on them.

Running your hands over the swell of your breasts, you sigh, letting your back rest against the cool tiles as you stroke and tease the tender buds until they’re rock hard beneath your touch. You grope and caress yourself, imagining that it’s Jean in the shower with you.

You're tempted to make a mad dash for your room, to lock the door and stuff the fat dildo in your bedside table into your wet cunt, to quickly fuck yourself on it until you’re sated enough to face the shirtless man in your living room without being distracted by stray thoughts of laving your tongue against the hollow of his throat.

It’s a half-baked plan seasoned with nothing but the delirious power of your lust-driven thoughts.

It's stupid.

It’s reckless.

And it almost fucking works, almost, until Jean suddenly comes barging into the bedroom in the middle of you face down on the bed, frantically humping the dildo like your life depends on it, the slick silicone lubricated on nothing but your gushing arousal. 

Jean stops dead in his tracks and stares at you, speechless for what may very well be the first time in his life.

You stare back at him, shaken from your stupor only when the dildo suddenly slides out of your pussy with a lewd popping sound. 

“Jean, what the fuck are you doing?” you ask, some part of you almost proud of how steady your voice comes out.

He blinks several times. “I needed a new shirt,” he gestures toward the door, “and the bathroom door is shut, I thought you were still in there.”

You blink back at him, all too aware of the filthy, slick arousal dripping down the inside of your thighs. “Oh.”

He glances up at the ceiling for a moment, toward the closet, and then back to you. “Do you…” he trails off.

“Do I…”

“—need a hand?”

You could probably blame it on the heat, the way you almost robotically nod. The way you hardly bat an eye when Jean climbs up on the bed behind you.

It’s surely a symptom of heat exhaustion, perching on all fours atop your mattress as your ex-boyfriend presses a hand into the small of your back while he thrusts a dildo in and out of your sopping wet cunt.

That stupid fucking air conditioner is definitely, absolutely, without a shadow of a doubt to blame for what happens next—when you flip over onto your back and spread your legs wide, gazing up at Jean’s lust-blown pupils as he continues to fuck you with the toy.

Your breakup was so goddamn stupid and petty and shortsighted—and you were both too stubborn to admit it in the aftermath. 

“Please let me eat you out,” Jean exhales, dragging a hand through his messy brown hair to push it out of his face.

You nod, fervently, though you’re still tempted to drag his hips flush against yours, to tell him how badly you need to be fucked instead. 

But when he laps a broad, firm stroke through your slick, creamy folds with his dexterous tongue, your mind goes blank in a haze of pleasure. 

Jean has always been far too good at this.

He alternates between lapping at your slit and licking his way into your tight entrance, and sucking on your clit as he plunges two long digits in and out of your wet hole, one hand splayed across your abdomen to hold you down as you whimper and buck your hips.

“You taste so good,” Jean groans, his own hips jerking into the mattress as you gasp, your entire body arching up off of the bed when one of his slick fingers slides beneath you and begins to stroke the rim of your ass.

He eases your other tight hole open, saliva and your sticky arousal running down his chin as he messily fucks your cunt with his tongue.

“Jean,” you gasp when he finally sinks a finger deep in your ass, your gut engulfed in a wave of white-hot pleasure.

“Come for me, baby,” he murmurs, tongue tracing firm circles against your clit while he curls his fingers and strokes the spongy, sensitive wall atop your tight channel.

You come with a shout as the coil of pleasure inside of you snaps, clear liquid spraying from your cunt as you tremble and shake and gush all over Jean’s fingers and face. 

“Holy shit,” Jean groans, hips rocking even harder into the bed—it always did drive him out of his mind when you squirted.

As you come down from your orgasm, Jean leans back into a sitting position, unzipping his pants and letting his throbbing, hard cock spring free from the confines of his boxers. He crudely spits into the palm of his hand, groaning your name as he tosses his head back and begins to fuck his fist, spreading the precum leaking from his tip with his thumb. 

You don’t think twice about the way you scramble forward and climb into his lap, nudging away his hand and wrapping your fingers around his length. 

Waiting a beat, you meet his gaze, somehow still not entirely sure if he actually wants to fuck you.

Jean chokes out a laugh, reading the uncertainty in your eyes and reaching up to cup the side of your face before he leans in to rest his forehead against yours.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, words he stubbornly couldn’t bring himself to say months ago.

“I’m sorry, too,” you murmur, and you mean it.

And then all it takes is the familiar grip of his hands on your hips to guide you down onto his cock, your cunt rapidly pulsing and contracting at the searing, intoxicating stretch, and both of you moan in unison.

Jean kisses you hard, his mouth engulfing yours and swallowing down the gasping, whimpering sounds you make as he fucks up into you, bullying his cock as deep as your greedy, needy pussy will take.

“I fucking missed you so much,” he rasps, catching your bottom lip between his teeth, one hand reaching up to grasp your tits.

It’s so goddamn hot in your bedroom, and it’s downright filthy, the slick slide of Jean’s sweat-soaked skin against yours, the way his hair is damp with it, the salt you taste on your tongue as you press hot, open-mouthed kisses against the tattoo that wraps around the side of his neck.

It’s hot and filthy and sweaty and you’re not sure if you’ve ever been so turned on in your life, so ridiculously wet, each plunge of Jean’s cock punctuated by the lewd squelch of your soaked pussy. 

“Jean—” you whine, dizzy with desperation and need.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, cradling your body as he switches your position, laying you down flat on your back as he continues to thrust in and out of you.

And maybe it’s the way he begins to toy with your clit again.

Maybe it’s the sight of the creamy ring of your arousal coating the base of his cock.

Maybe it’s the look in his eyes as he stares down at you beneath him.

—either way, you’re helpless to do anything but cry out and moan as another orgasm breaks through the heady dam of pleasure flowing inside of you, your vision nearly going black as he fucks you through it.

And you can tell he’s close, too, you can feel it in the way his thrusts suddenly grow sloppy, the way his breathing goes ragged.

“Inside,” you breathe out.

Jean’s answering groan is absolutely wrecked as he slams his cock in you to the hilt, spilling rope after rope of thick, hot cum in your fucked out cunt until it’s overflowing and dripping onto the sheets below.

When he eventually collapses beside you on the bed, you’re not sure if it’s intentional—the fact that he ends up on the side that was always his. 

But you don’t question it, not now.

Not later when the morning sun is peeking through the blinds and he’s snoring softly beside you.

Not even when you wake again to the sound of the air conditioner sputtering to life in the living room, the mattress dipping beside you as Jean pulls back the sheet and tugs you back against his chest.

[bobgasm]

camera shy | b.f

pairing: robert “bob” floyd x f!reader word count: 2761 warnings: smut, nsfw [18+ only], sub!bob, blowjob, filming the blowjob, aftercare,

summary: in which bob wants something of you to take away with him on his latest deployment

author’s note: i’m leaving for work in 15 mins but the urge to post this was more important than getting ready 😅

oneshot | masterlist

“Go get the camera.”

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen Bob move so quickly. A small laugh fell past your lips as you watched him trip over the pile of laundry in the basket by the door.

Bob had seemed off all night. You’d chalked it down to the fact that he’d be on deployment for the foreseeable future, and that you weren’t going to be able to talk often. He’d been pouting all day. Antsy, like he wanted to tell you something – ask you something – and that he was just chalking up the nerve to do it.

You’d been playing with his hair for the better part of an hour. It had recently been cut again, and honestly, you wished he could grow it out. You liked the curls, but you understood the Navy were strict.

You’d thought he’d finally drifted off with his head in your lap as you watched reruns of some shitty sitcom on the tv in his living room. You hadn’t been paying attention to it, because your boy was struggling with something. You’d tried to ask him what was wrong, tell him that he could talk to you, but he’d brushed it off and laid his head in your lap without so much as a second thought.

Then he’d whispered it, so quiet you almost imagined it. If it hadn’t been for the silence from the tv, you probably would’ve missed it.

“I want to film you sucking my cock.”

And there it was. Out in the open. You’d kept playing with his hair, mulling it over. Letting him think you hadn’t heard him.

Then he’d repeated himself louder, and turned his head to look at you. His bright blue eyes were wide as they watched your reaction. Eyebrows pulled together in questioning. And his cheeks, god, they were so flushed it took your breath away.

“That’s what’s got you all worked up?” You asked, not bothering to hide the teasing tone from your voice.

He coughed to clear his throat before sitting up, nervously playing with his fingers as he wrung his hands together.

“I–yes,” he admitted. “I just…I’m going to be away from you for a while. If it was okay, I mean, I’d like to have something of you–of you telling me when I can and can’t cum. When the timezones interfere an–,”

“Okay,” you cut him off.

You’d never seen him this highly strung before, and you wanted to make him feel better. Release the tension he was holding in his body. Let him live out this fantasy. Because, after all, he was a good boy. Good boys deserved to be rewarded every now and then.

You waited patiently for Bob to join you again, mumbling to himself along the lines of “flat fuckin’ battery, typical.” You watched him plug it in to charge with an amused look on your face. When he caught you staring, he ducked his gaze and tottled over to join you on the couch again.

“What?”

You shook your head as he sat down and ran your hand through his hair. “Nothing, you’re just so cute.”

He smiled shyly, eyes fluttering closed as you lightly scratched at his scalp. “You’re so good to me.”

“You deserve it, baby boy,” you told him, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. When he turned his head slightly, trying to find your lips, you obliged. He kissed you back slowly, languidly. Savouring the taste and feel of your mouth on his.

Before he could start whining, you gently pulled away. You refused to kiss the pout off his lips like you usually did.

“Let’s wait until your phone is charged,” you suggested lightly, combing his hair back from his face.

He really was a pretty young thing. From his striking blue eyes and the glasses that adorned them, to his soft tousled hair and shy personality. He was your pretty little boy, and you couldn’t imagine him any other way.

“O–kay, yeah,” he agreed with a stammer. You cupped his face tenderly. “Thank you for agreeing to do this for me.”

“Anything for my good little boy,” you praised. “You’ve been so good lately. I was going to ask if there was anything you wanted me to do for you that we don’t normally do.”

Bob hummed softly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agreed lightly. “How long do you think that phone is going to take to charge?”

“Not long, I hope.”

You smiled as he cast a glance to where he’d plugged the phone in. He ran a hand through his hair before leaning back against the couch and throwing an arm around your shoulders. You cuddled into his side, throwing your legs over his lap and nuzzling your face into his neck.

He tilted his head just enough, baring the skin of his neck to you. You pressed a kiss to the soft spot behind his ear, flicking your tongue against his earlobe before leaving hot, open mouthed kisses down his jaw.

He’s behaving – too nervous that you’ll decline the idea he propositioned earlier. That, instead, you’ll leave him with only his memories of the two of you to last the entire month he’s gone. He knows the memories are good, but he also knows that actually hearing your voice guiding him through an orgasm is ten times better.

His hand fell to rest on your back, mouth parted as you continued your wordless assault on his neck. Kissing, licking, and sucking bruises into the skin. You wanted him to flush whenever he saw them, for as long as they tainted his skin. Even if you couldn’t see the deep red flush they caused, you knew he’d ask for more the second he got back home.

“How are you feeling, baby?” You asked, lips brushing against the shell of his ear.

“Good,” he said breathily. “Can you sit in my lap?”

“No touching,” you warned him, shuffling as he tucked his hands beneath his thighs. Eyes hooded as you straddled his lap, your hands resting on his chest. “Your heart is racing, baby. Are you sure you’re good?”

He nodded quickly. “So good. Don’t want you to punish me and take away the phone.”

You cupped his face, thumbs stroking his cheeks. “I’m not going to punish you today, baby. Maybe when you get back, depending on how many times you watch the video and cum. But that’s later. This is now.”

His next breath came out ragged and the potential future punishment, and his dick stirred to life in his pants.

“Are you thinking about your punishment?” You teased, shuffling in his lap and feeling his growing erection pressed tightly at your clothed core. “Naughty boy.”

“Tell me what’s going to happen if I cum from watching the video,” he pleaded.

You chuckled lowly and slowly slid off his lap, crossing the room to check the battery charge on the phone. You heard him cough, likely to hide a moan – you knew him too well. Satisfied with the seventeen percent, you unplugged it from the cord and walked back over to Bob.

“Are you going to be able to hold the camera still?” You asked him.

“Yes.”

“Good boy,” you praised, watching his eyes gloss over as you handed him the device, opened to the video option. Sinking to your knees between his open legs, you snatched a cushion from the couch for extra comfort. You weren’t sure how long the battery was going to last, but you wanted to make sure Bob was thoroughly spent when you were done with him; whether the phone lived that long or not.

With shaky hands, Bob trained the phone on your face. You gave him a sweet smile, hands resting on his open thighs. Slowly inching up towards his clothed cock desperately straining to be freed.

Bob exhaled shakily, the hand not holding the phone gripped the couch cushion tightly. His knuckles were white, and you hadn’t even started yet.

He groaned as you roughly palmed him, your eyes trained on his face the whole time. Watching his eyebrows draw together, the bottom lip getting taken between his teeth, nostrils flared as he breathed. Doing everything he could to stay calm, to not reach out and touch you.

He wanted this, he reminded himself. He needed to behave.

“Hips up, baby boy,” you said slowly, popping the button of his pants through the hole and sliding the zipper down.

He did as you requested, lifting his hips enough for you to tug his pants and underwear over the curve of his ass and down his thighs, leaving them bunched together at his ankles.

Bob took a ragged breath as he kicked his pants out of the way, the cool air hitting the tip of his cock in a way that made his toes curl. You ran your hands up his thighs before raking your nails back down towards his knees. He hissed at the slight pain, legs opening further for you.

His cock rested against his stomach, thick and heavy, and beautiful just like him. You almost forgot you were on camera as you ran a finger lightly down his cock. Starting at the tip and gathering a bead of precum from the slit, down the sensitive ridge, over the prominent vein that wrapped around his cock. Taking his heavy balls in your hand and lightly fondling, squeezing, expecting him to beg for more.

His mouth opened like clockwork, “please, more. I need more,” and his pleas were as beautiful as ever. Light, breathy and so full of desperation.

“More what, Bobby?”

His head fell back against the couch when you used his nickname. Quickly springing back as he felt your mouth on his inner thigh, sucking a deep bruise right beside his cock.

“Touch me more, please,” he whimpered, struggling to keep from jerking his hips up. Desperate for any kind of friction. “I need your hands on my cock.”

You hummed and pressed your hand against his cock. Keeping your palm flat as you ran it up the underside of his cock, the silky skin pushing over the tip.

“Like this?”

He whined. “Yes–no. That’s not what I mean.”

“Then how? Tell me how, Bobby,” you prompted, feeling his cock twitch beneath your palm.

“Wrap your hand around my cock, please.”

He was such a good boy. He never forgot his manners. Not when there was so much on the line.

You did as he requested and wrapped your hand around his cock. And that’s all you did.

“Stroke my cock, please,” he begged.

You slowly dragged your hand up his cock, watching the tip disappear beneath the excess skin before slowly dragging your hand back down. Watching the tip reappear as your hand reached the base of his cock.

“Like this, baby?”

“Y-Yeah.”

So he wanted to be teased a little longer, you mused to yourself. He moaned softly as you luckily cupped his balls with your other hand, working both in tandem with your slow strokes of his cock.

He whimpered at your torturous pace. “So good. It feels so good.”

Your mouth was salivating in anticipation of finally tasting him. His cock was slick with precum you were desperate to lap up. He was being such a good boy, that you didn’t wait for him to ask before your mouth was on him.

A heavenly moan rumbled in your throat as you lapped up the precum from his cock. Bob gasped as your tongue flicked and delved into his slit, your hot, wet mouth enveloping his tip.

“Oh, fuck,” he moaned, the sound like music to your ears. Your eyes flickered up to watch his face contort in pleasure as you started to bob your head. Never taking more of his cock in your mouth than just the tip.

He needed to ask for more.

You unwrapped your hand from his cock that had been squeezing at the base to lightly dig your nails into his hip. The other did the same on his other hip, because he had a tendency to get lost in the feeling and his hips thrusting to meet your mouth.

He whimpered as your nails dug into his flesh, and your gaze flitted to the camera lens of the phone.

You left sloppy kisses down his shaft before you reached his balls. Tongue flat against the base of his cock as you licked back to his tip.

“Please, please,” he begged, no, he whimpered. You knew what he wanted. He needed to articulate his thoughts.

“Please what, Bobby?”

He whined, cock twitching as his hips jerked up. You held them in place as best you could.

“I need your mouth; your throat. Fuck, please.” He was a mess and you had him exactly where you wanted him. “I’m a good boy. I’m your good boy.”

You gave him a sweet smile before wrapping your mouth around his tip and sucking. He hissed, and whined, and fisted the couch even harder than he was before. You heard his knuckles click, and let go of his hips to grab his hand. Prying it from the couch and tangling your fingers together as you took him into your mouth. Slowly taking more and more, jaw aching as you tried to accommodate his size.

He squeezed your hand tightly, and you squeezed back, fighting back a gag as you opened your throat to his cock.

“Ohmygod.” He groaned loudly. Your throat contracted slightly, desperate to swallow, and he moaned loudly. As you pulled back a bit and started bobbing your head, you made eye contact with the camera lens once again. Knowing it would drive him crazy when he watched it back.

Yyou knew he’d try to hold out as long as possible before watching the video, and when he did, he’d get a nice surprise from your sultry gaze. And any thoughts of a punishment would fly out of his mind.

“You taste so good, baby,” you praised, wrapping your hand around his spit slick cock to give it a few teasing strokes. “So heavy and thick in my mouth. God, such a pretty cock for a pretty boy, hm?”

He panted, struggling to meet your gaze and hold the phone steady. You saw how gone he was. How lost he’d become to the pleasure. You’d told him about the place he disappeared to once before – sub space, you’d called it. The place he’d entered when he was completely at your mercy, which had only happened a small handful of times.

It was a surprise every time, because it didn’t always happen. When it did, you knew he was truly yours. That he’d never do anything to lose you, or what the two of you had.

“Your good boy,” he mumbled. “Your pretty boy. All yours.”

You hummed, wrapping your lips around his cock again.

When he was in sub space, it usually meant he was close. That he wasn’t going to be able to delay his orgasm even if you requested it. You didn’t want to this time. You wanted him to cum, just as badly as he did.

You played with his balls while taking his cock as deep into your mouth as you could. Each time his cock hit the back of your throat, a gasp would fall from his lips. Each gasp getting a little breathier and higher pitched.

“So close.”

With his cock deep in your mouth, you hummed. Watching his head fall back, and feeling his balls tighten in your grasp.

“Feels so good, oh fuck, please. Please,” he begged. His cock twitched once, then twice, and when you didn’t stop your blissful assault, he came. Thick ropes of cum hitting the back of your throat and coating your tongue. You kept sucking the tip of his cock, milking his orgasm the best way you knew how.

He gasped as you pulled off him with a soft ‘pop’ before looking down the lens of the camera and showing the cum you’d collected. Only then did you swallow, but not before shutting off the phone.

“Bobby,” you said softly, taking his face in your hands. “Hi, baby. You did so good for me, you know that?”

He hummed, eyes unfocused as you pressed soft kisses to his face. His breathing was ragged, but he was slowly coming back to you. Your boy. Your good boy.

“Hi,” he said breathily, leaning into your touch. “Thank you.”

“Any time, baby. Just wanna take care of you.”

[moonlightspencie]

Two Headlights

Chapter 1 of ‘treacherous’

Pairing: Remus Lupin x fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.7k

You sighed, screwing the last leg of the coffee table on before setting it upright in front of your couch. Your new flat wasn’t anything special, but it felt like a whole new start. And, most importantly, it was yours.

After years of childhood lived with your parents or spent at Hogwarts, and then living with your grandparents in America for months after you’d graduated, it was a nice change of place to have somewhere that was entirely your own. Your parents had helped you move in for the most part the day prior, but you’d been working on some of the finishing touches yourself since you’d woken up that morning. It was nice to be alone, listening to music and setting everything just how you liked it. Your cat, Dumpling, was also quite pleased with the new space. He made himself at home immediately, especially once you set up his favorite cat tower.

You stood up from the ground, looking over everything you’d done with a proud smile. It was coming into place nicely, you thought.

You were also joyful for another reason: you’d promised yourself that as soon as you were finished with the living room you’d finally go and see what Fred and George Weasley were up to in their new store. You’d been in the year ahead of them, but they were some of your closest friends in school.

The past few years had been a mess, to say the least, but leave it to them to open a joke store. A successful one at that, from what you’d heard.

Nobody but your parents knew you were back, and you were looking forward to seeing friends you hadn’t seen in almost a year. You took a drink of water in your kitchen, pulled on your shoes and jacket, and set off for town after a brief goodbye to Dumpling.

You’d apparated into a nearby alley, not needing to walk far before it came into view: Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. You chuckled to yourself at the huge red-headed statue coming out of the top of the store.

Walking in was a bit overwhelming, to say the least. Business was clearly booming in the space, and your attention was drawn every which way by various items. You started looking at a wall filled with chocolates that promised less-than-exciting results if you ate them. It reminded you of the products they’d bring to school when you were all there. Nosebleed nougat and puking pastilles were never something you were terribly interested in trying, but from the looks of the picked-over area, they were quite popular.

You startled at the sound of your name being called out in stereo. You whipped around, a smile on your lips as soon as you saw the two familiar faces grinning back at you.

“Hey,” you greeted simply.

Fred was the first to step forward, crushing you in a hug until you were sure you’d been nearly squeezed to death.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, just barely letting you go.

“Heard you two opened a shop. Did you think I’d miss out on this?”

George pushed his brother away, wrapping his arms around you in a much less bone-crushing way.

“Thought you moved to America,” he mumbled, not yet letting go.

“Yeah, went ahead and ditched us as soon as we were out of school,” Fred added in.

You detached yourself from the second twin, taking a step back.

“Well, I’m back,” you stated with a shrug and a small smile.

“For how long?” George asked.

“The foreseeable future,” you stated. “I really only went to stay with my grandparents, but they’re doing well. I think I can get by with vacations whenever possible rather than staying there.”

“You’re staying?” Fred asked with wide eyes.

“I’m staying.”

“Wicked,” they said in unison, matching smiles on their faces.

You laughed, about to ask how business had been since they’d opened, when another familiar voice cut in.

“Fred, George, if you sell Ron one more—” she started, though she paused soon thereafter. “Is that who I think it is?”

You smiled when she recognized you. It had been quite a while since you’d last seen Mrs. Weasley, but she had always been a favorite of both yours and your parents. She was practically a second mother to you whenever your parents were gone. It was just her nature, you supposed, but she always went the extra mile when it came to being kind and nurturing. She wrapped you in a hug not dissimilar to Fred's; if the red hair didn’t tip you off to the family resemblance, the surprising strength certainly would have.

“Oh, dear, I haven’t seen you in ages,” she gushed.

“Ah, Mrs. Weasley,” you said back, arms wrapped around her nearly as tight. “I know, I’ve been away for a while, but I’m back now! I was just telling Fred and George that I’m going to be staying around again.”

She pulled away, though she kept her hands on your arms. “What have I told you? You call me Molly, love. Oh, it’s so wonderful to see you. We’ve missed you.”

“Right, sorry,” you laughed. “I’ve missed you all too. It’s been far too long.”

Just as she was about to reply, she heard a crash behind her, noticing that the boys were showing off some destructive gadget to a girl who looked vaguely familiar.

“You boys,” she started scolding, then shook it off, turning back to you. “They get older, but they never grow up.”

You laughed. “That’s why this is the perfect place for them, isn’t it?”

She smiled softly, shaking her head as she watched her boys now crowding a young boy looking at some contraption.

“Yes. It is.”

You looked after her in the direction of the twins, your own smile forming as they hammed up the product, making the boy laugh at their silly jokes. If anything, they sure knew how to bring a sense of joy into even the worst situations. They always did.

“Well,” you started, letting out a breath. “I should really be off. I’ve got to feed my cat before she starts going crazy. I only dropped by to say hello since I’ve gotten all settled in my new flat.”

Molly turned back to you with wide eyes and a hand on your arm to stop you from getting away so quickly.

“Oh, dear, before you go,” she said, giving another smile to you as she spoke. “We’re having dinner at the burrow tonight. I would love if you could drop by. I’m sure Fred and George would love to have you, Ron will be around, and Harry and Hermoine will be coming along as well.”

You lit up a little. “Oh! I would love to. I haven’t spoken to them since I left for the States.”

“Then it’s settled. You just come by any time tonight. I’ll be serving dinner at six, but we would love to see you before then,” she nodded along as she spoke. “Any time, dear.”

“Wonderful,” you grinned. “I’ll see you in a few hours, after I feed my cat and change out of these clothes.”

She pulled you in for a brief hug, wishing you well before you left the shop. You smiled to yourself on the way out, excited to see everyone again and even more excited for Molly’s cooking. She made the best desserts, especially.

You arrived home to a meowing cat, as expected. You couldn’t leave for more than ten minutes without him getting all riled up.

“Dumpy, you’re insufferable. You know that?” You told him, receiving a loud meow in response.

You shook your head, fixing him some dinner as he rubbed up against your legs. You scratched his chin, then set down his bowl of food next to his water dish.

“You ought to be jealous,” you began, watching him eat. “You’ll be stuck here eating this slop, meanwhile, I get the treat of eating with the Weasleys.”

He ignored you with his little head buried in the food dish, as per usual, and you walked off toward your bedroom with a shake of your head. A warm shower was altogether too tempting to deny, so you took a quick one before getting ready for dinner. You changed into a clean pair of pants and a comfy sweater, spritzing on a little perfume for good measure. You certainly didn’t need to impress anyone at the burrow, but it still felt nice to get ready to see anyone besides your own family for the first time in a while.

You tugged on your favorite boots at the door, double checking that Dumpling had plenty of water, and then you were off once again.

You knocked on the front door, waiting with baited breath to see everyone. A cheery, rosy-cheeked Mr. Weasley smiled brightly as he opened the door.

“There she is,” he said, opening his arms.

“Mr. Weasley,” you greeted warmly, stepping into his embrace.

His hug was brief and as fatherly as ever. He ushered you inside immediately, helping you out of your jacket.

“Molly has been going on about your arrival since she came back home,” he said with a laugh. “It’s wonderful to see you again.”

“Great to see you, too. How’s work been?”

“Oh, just fantastic,” he said, nodding along. “You know, I still haven’t quite been able to wrap my head around the idea of zip ties.”

“Well, it’s really just a tool used to fasten things,” you said, looking around the space. Nothing had changed, not even a smidge.

“Hmm,” he nodded thoughtfully. “I’m still curious—”

“Arthur, leave the poor girl alone,” Molly said, stepping into view. “Hello, dear. I’m so glad you could come by.”

“As am I. Thank you again for the invite,” you said, giving her a warm smile as she ushered you towards the living room.

“You know I love to have you,” she said, waving you off. “Plus, we have a bit of a full house tonight. A few extra guests have decided to come along.”

“Oh?” you questioned, though you went without an answer as Fred and George approached.

“Left us in the dust again,” Fred started.

“At our own store…” George continued.

“And now, you show up at our home.”

“It’s a shame, really.”

“Terrible shame.”

You quirked a brow, giving them a mockingly disapproving stare. “If you want me to leave..."

“No!” they exclaimed together.

“Come on,” Fred said, slinging an arm around your shoulder to usher you ahead.

“You know we love to see you,” George said with a smile from your other side. “Even when you’ve snuck off in the middle of a visit.”

“You two are just as delightfully ridiculous as always,” you said with a sigh.

“You hear that, George?”

“I did. She thinks we’re delightful,” George responded to his brother, nudging your shoulder.

“Funny, you seem to have forgotten the ‘ridiculous’ I threw in right afterwards,” you replied with a laugh.

“Didn’t forget,” Fred began.

George picked up where he left off, “Just didn’t care for it.”

You laughed again, glad to be back in their company, despite yourself. Though, once they got you to the couch and tried pulling you down to sit between them, you finally got a good look at everyone else. A few of them broke away from their conversations to recognize you right back.

"Hey!" Harry exclaimed, popping up from his spot on the floor and launching himself at you. “When did you get back?”

“Just a few days ago,” you said, breaking away to accept another hug from Hermione.

“We had no clue,” she said, smiling widely at you.

“Molly invited me this afternoon,” you explained. “She convinced me by telling me you lot would be here.”

Harry smiled, opening his mouth to say something else, when Ron interrupted with a call of your name and yet another hug.

“What are you doing back?” he asked you, prompting you to explain your situation once again.

They all listened intently as you told them all about your time in the States and what you’d been up to since deciding to move back home. It wasn’t until you felt a tap on your shoulder that they stepped back to allow you a smidge of space again.

“Darling,” he said, and you could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Sirius,” you responded before turning around.

He smiled softly at you, pulling you into his chest. You rocked along with him as he took you, smiling when he pulled away briefly.

“What happened to you?” he asked, a joking tone in his voice. “Last I saw you were just a girl, walking around Hogwarts and causing trouble. When did you turn into a beautiful young woman?”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Always the charmer. It's only been…”

“Well over a year, now,” he said, raising a brow. “Letters don’t count.”

“Mmm,” you hummed, nodding. “How else will you tell me about all your adventures?”

He chuckled, tugging you into his side, looking at the others.

To be fair, it had been quite a long time since you’d seen him. After his escape from Azkaban and the resulting relationship he’d formed with Harry, you’d also become somewhat close after your parents had taken him in for a while. They weren’t officially part of the Order, but Dumbledore trusted them well enough to keep Sirius hidden under the radar when he needed someplace to lay low.

It had been over a year since he was around often, and almost as long since you’d casually seen him.

“My point is that letters aren’t enough, sunshine,” he said, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “I hear from Molly that you’re back to stay?”

You nodded. “I am.”

“Then we’ll have to see one another more, yes?”

“Absolutely,” you reply with a smile, squeezing his side a little. “So, I am terribly curious…”

“Oh?”

“Molly said there’d be a full house tonight. Obviously, you’ll be my favorite surprise guest…”

“Obviously,” he smirked.

“But,” you continued, a smile on your face, “who else is coming around?”

“Well, I think the eldest Weasley boys will be coming home tonight. At least Bill,” he starts. “You’ve already seen Harry and Hermione, so I think the only one left will be Remus.”

You stood up a little straighter. “Professor Lupin?”

He quirked a brow. “Professor Lupin? Remind me, how long has it been since you’ve had him as a professor?"

You roll your eyes. “That’s the name I came to know him by, you can’t blame me for it.”

He hummed, tightening the arm around you a little. “At any rate, I believe Professor Lupin will be our last guest.”

“Well, alright,” you nodded. “Seems like a good group.”

“All the better for you being here with us, darling.”

You pulled him along with you as you finally took your place on the couch, scooting Fred to the side with your hip to make room for Sirius. Fred, of course, playfully protested but ultimately gave in. You nudged Sirius’ shoulder as he watched his favorite young trio talking animatedly with one another. He looked at you with raised brows.

“How have you been?”

He sighed softly. “Just fine. We’ve been spending a lot of time with the Order.”

You hummed. “Right. How has that been?”

“Well enough, but knowing what is to come has started putting many of the members a bit on edge,” he said quietly. “Harry has started taking an interest. He wants to be more involved, and I agree that he should be, but…”

“He’s still a kid.”

Sirius nodded. “He’s a strong kid, but I know that the others aren’t very keen on his involvement.”

“I understand why. They don’t want to put him in harm’s way.”

“He’s already in harm’s way simply by existing,” Sirius retorted. “I want him to be safe as much as anyone else, but we can’t leave him out of something when he’s really been involved his entire life.”

You nodded wordlessly, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry. I wish things could be easier.”

He sighed. “So do I. But it will all work out in the end, won’t it?”

You lifted your head, giving him a sure smile and a brief nod.

“Absolutely.”

He was quiet for a moment, then perked up again, tossing his arm around your shoulders.

“Have you been to Grimmauld Place since we started operating from there?”

“Where you grew up?”

He nodded.

“I don’t think I have, no,” you said, shaking your head.

“I’ll have to invite you soon. Being in the States didn’t change your tastes, did it? You still like your lavender earl grey?”

You snorted. “I wasn’t even there for a year, Sirius.”

“You never know,” he smirked.

At that point, you heard the door opening and closing and Molly emphatically greeting someone. Curious as to whether it was Bill or Lupin, you turned your head over your shoulder and waited.

Though, as soon as he walked into your field of vision, talking with Arthur, you sat up a little straighter.

Professor Lupin had been a favorite when you were still in school. He was always quite kind, a bit funny, and a phenomenal professor. But you’d always seen him as a professor, never as a man, regardless of Sirius’ stories about their younger days. Now, however, you became acutely aware that you weren’t looking at Professor Lupin. You were looking at Remus. Remus, who is still kind and funny and likely as caring as ever, but who is also shockingly handsome.

You didn’t realize you’d been staring until you felt a poke at your side, turning to Sirius, who stared back at you with a raised brow and the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

“What?”

He snorted. “I should be asking you that question... ‘What?’ she says.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Right,” he replied, not convinced. Then, his smirk only grew as he waved at his dear friend. “Remus!”

“Sirius,” he greeted with a smile, politely excusing himself from the conversation with Mr. Weasley.

Sirius stood, hugging Remus as he drew nearer. You watched their interaction with a small smile, noticing how they both looked entirely comfortable together. It was nice to see them look so at peace.

“Of course,” Sirius began, “you remember my sunshine girl.”

Both men turned to you, though you snorted at Sirius’ title for you. Remus greeted you with a soft call of your name. You smiled, though you tried to reign it in as you were acutely aware of how Sirius was watching you now. You were already overdue for some teasing, no use in making it worse.

“It’s good to see you again. It’s been a while,” you said, leaning over the back of the couch.

“It has. Though I’ve heard a lot about you from Sirius. You know, he really enjoys those letters you send.”

“Aww,” you cooed, laughing. Sirius looked on, trying to put on his unamused face. “You tell all your friends about my letters, Siri?”

“Merely to make fun of you, don’t take it to heart,” he said, a barely contained smile on his face.

“To be fair,” you started, looking back to Remus, “I’ve also heard quite a lot about you from Sirius as well. Though for some, it has been quite hard to believe, I must admit.”

“Oh? Why is that?” Remus asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Well, the differences between ‘Professor Lupin’ and Siri’s beloved ‘Mooney’ are pretty significant.”

He smiled softly, nodding his head slowly in response. “I see. So, you know of all my sins, now.”

“I didn’t tell her the worst of it,” Sirius responded. “Only the times you embarrassed yourself.”

“And I’m not sure how much to trust out of hismouth, so who’s to say I even believe what I’ve been told?" you added.

“If you knew Remus better, you wouldn’t doubt the things I’ve told you for a second,” Sirius said, leaning next to where I was on the couch. “I think you would have liked him back then.”

Remus laughed quietly. “Right. I’m afraid I might be too boring to stand a chance, now.”

“Oh, so you’d like a chance?” Sirius teased.

Remus’ smile faded slowly, his cheeks tinting pink when he realized his mistake. You huffed out a laugh, feeling a little shy yourself after that particular line.

“Quit teasing,” you said, gently slapping Sirius’ arm. “He just got here.”

“He’s been dealing with me for years, he should’ve known to be prepared,” Sirius said, then leaned in to speak only to you. “And don’t think I didn’t see how you looked at him. I won’t say anything now, but be ready to have a storm come later.”

“I’m not coming over for tea.”

He scoffed, hand over his chest in mock offense. You shook your head, then looked back at Remus.

“How on earth have you dealt with him for as long as you have?”

He sighed, clearly a bit grateful for a slight change in topic, though staring daggers at Sirius.

“Unfortunately, the good of being around him usually outweighs the bad. Can’t lose that, now.”

You laughed. “Usually?”

“I’m hurt, Mooney,” Sirius said, the smile on his face saying something else.

“Well, how have you been?” Remus asked, turning his attention to you as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Are you just here for a visit?”

“No, I’m back for good now. I wanted to be back home, so I just started renting a flat in London.”

“That’s wonderful. How is it so far?”

“It’s only been a couple of days, but I love it,” you smiled. “It’s nice to have someplace that’s completely my own. I’ve also started considering what I’ll do for a job now that I’m back, but I just don’t quite know yet.”

“How are you affording your flat, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Of course not." You waved him off. “My grandparents on my father’s side of the family passed away a few years ago. I never knew them very well, but they left me an inheritance. It should help me get by for the next year or so."

“I see. Have you considered becoming a teacher? You were always a phenomenal student and a tutor, if I remember correctly."

You nodded. “Yes, I did some tutoring. I have considered teaching, but I probably need some more experience before they’ll accept me. I have always loved herbology, though, so I’m hoping I might find something in that field.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “Whatever you choose, I’m sure you’ll be brilliant. Always have been.”

You felt a heat in your cheeks. “Thank you. I can only hope others will hold the same opinion.”

Sirius cleared his throat at that, and you glanced up, catching his eye. He still wore that stupid smirk.

“I’d love to stick around, but I think I’ll go see if Arthur needs any help with anything.”

“Oh, I should probably see—” you started, though you were quickly cut off.

“No, no,” Sirius said, shaking his head. “Stay and catch up. You two seem to be having a good conversation, yeah?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, knowing the game he was playing. He’d do just about anything to get a reaction. He patted the couch next to you as he stood straight.

“Take a seat, Remus. She doesn’t bite,” he said, ushering his friend towards the couch seat he’d previously vacated. “Hard.”

You opened your mouth to snark back at him, but fell short as he scurried away. Remus slowly lowered himself into the seat as you turned back around.

“Sorry about him,” he said quietly.

“I’m used to it by now. I think one of his greatest joys in life is messing with people he claims to love.”

He laughed at that. “You do know him well, don’t you?”

“I do,” you confirmed. “Practically lived with him for a few months a while back, you know?”

“I know,” he nodded. “He really does speak highly of your family. Especially about you.”

“He better. I’m a delight, and he knows it.”

He laughed, his eyes crinkling as he looked at you. You had to remind yourself not to stare too long.

“I don’t doubt it,” he said, still smiling. “You were always one of my favorites to teach, which comes as a bit of a surprise in hindsight.”

“How so?”

“You’re friends with Sirius, and Fred and George. How were you not a terrible troublemaker?”

I snorted a laugh. “I could ask you the same thing, ‘marauder’. You don’t seem like the type of person who would be relatively mild-mannered as you were as a professor.”

“Time changes things.”

You hummed. “I suppose. There has to be some of that wild streak left in you, though. I’m sure of it.”

He adjusted in his seat, facing you a little more to give you his full attention. He narrowed his eyes slightly, though it couldn’t hide the amused sparkle in them.

“How can you be so sure?”

“I’m not. Just taking a guess,” you said with a self-satisfied smirk. "But the fact that you still hang around Siri, and he certainly has a… robustpersonality, tells me that you must be more than a kindly professor.”

“You’re very wise.”

“Comes with age, I guess,” I joked, stretching my legs.

“Age,” he repeated. “What do you know about aging?”

“I’m twenty-three years old, I’ve practically got one foot in the grave already.”

He groaned. “If you’re old, then I ought to be dust by now.”

You laughed. “Oh, come now. You’re not so old.”

“You just said you had one foot in the grave at twenty-three,” he said, his voice raising in a way you’d never heard from him. It made you laugh again.

“Maybe I was exaggerating a bit.”

“Maybe,” he nodded along.

You let a silence fall over you for a few minutes as you observed the others around you. Everyone seemed so happy despite the heavy circumstances everyone was living under. It was nice to see. You let your eyes drift to Fred and George, who spoke with Harry about some silly product they were developing. Then, you saw Ron and Hermione, still pretending they weren’t interested in one another despite the ever-obvious signs of young love. Finally, you settled your gaze back on Remus. He was looking over his shoulder at some of the photos laid out around the room. You took a moment to really study him. The scars on his face that somehow only made him look more handsome, his hands, the way he relaxed into the cushions so casually, the way he looked at you—oh.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to…” You drifted off, feeling embarrassed at getting caught staring. “Just haven’t seen you in a long time. You look a little different, you know?”

“I do?”

“You do,” you nodded.

“Tell me,” he said with a brief nod. “What’s so different?”

You shrugged. “Well, the way you carry yourself is a bit different. You’re more… relaxed, I suppose. You look less worn-down and more comfortable. Your hair is also different. It’s a bit longer now. Obviously, your clothes are different from how I’m used to seeing you, but they look nice.”

He quirked a brow, hiding a smile. “I see. I suppose I have changed some, haven’t I? Though, so have you.”

“Yeah?”

“Definitely.”

You paused a moment, then, “Well, if I told you what I noticed, I think it’s only fair that you do the same for me. I’m curious.”

“Well, you’ve obviously moved up in life. You’re a full-fledged adult now, living on your own. You seem more confident than you did a few years ago. At minimum, you’re speaking your mind more than you did back then,” he said with a smile. “Physically, you’ve changed as well. Your face has changed a little, though I can’t quite place how. I just know that it has. You carry yourself in a way that feels more... Like you.”

You smiled to yourself a little at that. “Alright, I’ll take it.”

“Are you two all done with your flirting, now?” Sirius’ voice came from behind you.

You let out a sigh. “If you think this is flirting, I feel sorry for the women you talk to.”

Remus laughed, his eyes widening at the comment. Sirius merely looked shocked, an amused look on his face.

“Sassy,” he said, still a little bewildered.

“You should expect it at this point.”

He snorted, looking to Remus. “And you’re not going to say anything?”

“She seems to have covered it quite well,” Remus responded, nodding towards you.

“Hey,” you heard a voice behind you call, and turned to see Fred. “Can I ask you a question?”

“What about?”

“I’ve… I’m thinking about a birthday gift for Angelina. Do you think you could help me?”

You smiled, nodding, then turned to the other two you’d been talking to.

“If you two will excuse me, I have some productivethings to do now.”

“Ouch,” Sirius said, still grinning. “We’ll see you soon. Watch your back, because I do plan on getting you back for all that snark of yours.”

“I’d like to see you try, Siri.”

He hummed, moving to take your spot on the couch as you walked off with Fred to discuss his ideas away from prying ears. You conversed about it for a while before you’d ultimately convinced him to get her the nice necklace he’d been considering. He let out a sigh of relief after finally voicing that he knew what he was going to do, thanking you profusely.

You smiled to yourself, always finding it so strange and sweet any time either of the twins were entirely unsure of themselves. They usually had a grip on who they were, but watching Fred have a small crisis over making the right decision for his girlfriend was oddly heartwarming.

You hadn’t realized how much had really changed in the time you were away from everyone, but being around all of them at once certainly highlighted it. It was odd. But nice. Like remodeling the kitchen of a childhood home. It’s still home and still what you knew best, but things were new and exciting to discover. Mom got a new rolling pin for the old family cookie recipe, and you were cutting carrots on a new counter as you looked out the window at the tree you’d climbed as a child. You figured you could get used to it all easily.

Even going back into the living room and seeing Harry and his dear friends talking showed it. They were still young and still silly, but they were noticeably older and more mature than they’d been even two years ago. Your heart felt entirely full.

Before long, your stomach was even more full. Molly had called everyone to sit for dinner, and she went above and beyond for the meal. You were certain you’d explode if she put another tart on your plate for dessert, and had to adamantly tell her so when she tried for the third time. She laughed, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head, moving on to do the same to Ginny and George, who shared the same sentiment. Ron, of course, took another.

“Do you think you’ll be around more often, now?” Hermione asked from next to you.

You nodded. “Yeah, I will be. I’ll have to invite you over to my flat sometime. Maybe our cats can have a play date.”

She smiled. “I’d like that.”

You sat another half an hour or so before everyone started to stir from their places. You stood from your seat, saying goodbyes to everyone with the note that you probably needed to get back home to your cat before he started to throw a fit.

“He can’t stay alone for a few hours?” Ron asked.

“He’s still adjusting to his new home. Things should be back to normal for him in a week or so, I’m sure,” you said, giving a slight shrug.

"But you’ll come visit me real soon anyway, won’t you?” Sirius asked, nudging your side with his elbow.

“You bet,” you said with a laugh. “Owl me about it, yeah?”

“Mhm,” he hummed his response, pulling you into one more hug before you started away from the group.

“Thank you again, Molly,” you stated, a hand on her shoulder. “It was delightful, as always.”

“I’m so glad you could come, love,” she said, holding your hand with a warm smile. “I hope I’ll get to see you again soon.”

“As do I. We’ll have to make plans soon.”

“We will,” she nodded. “You let me know if you need anything at all, okay?”

“I will.”

You said your goodbyes, then started towards the door, almost making it before one more person stepped in your way.

“It was nice to see you again,” Remus said, giving a soft smile.

“Nice to see you, too. I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of each other, what with Sirius being so sappy and wanting to hang around me more, now,” you noted with a snort.

“Right,” he nodded. “Well, I hope we do. You’re great company, you know?”

“Thank you.”

He nodded, then perked up. “Oh! You said you’re interested in herbology, correct?”

You tilted your head. “I am.”

“I might have a job opportunity for you, if you’d like me to pass on a good word for you. An old friend named Nemora is a great herbologist. She works with all sorts of plants, but really has an interest in the health-related aspects of herbology,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Wow,” you said, delighted. “Yes! I mean, I would love if you could talk to her for me. That sounds incredible.”

“I can’t make any promises it will go anywhere, but I can have her contact you if so.”

“That’s incredible. Thank you so much,” you smiled brightly.

He nodded. “Well, it’s been a pleasure. I hope to see you again soon.”

You said your goodbyes once more, then finally headed out the door and back to your flat. You’d expected a good time, but for your first week back home, you decided it couldn’t have gone better.

Chapter 2 ->

[employee052]

Hey everyone, gotta make an announcement that I'll be taking a bit of a break from posting for a while.

The Road Trip prompts will be posted on May 27th as scheduled, and I'll reblog any posts pertaining to the thread and event regardless. However, posting art, or anything else besides the event, will come to a slow on my end temporarily across all my blogs. My RP blog @mrthenarrator will be in an indefinite hiatus for the foreseeable future as well.

In short, someone has been stalking me for the past few months, and is refusing to leave me alone despite countless attempts to block, report, and outright ignore her. Not only has it been a big tank towards my mental health overall, but all of her attempts have made me feel uncomfortable, paranoid, and downright disturbed. My boundaries have been broken, I have been manipulated, I have been seen as an object of hyperfixation and not as a real living person, and I have been threatened.

I'll be taking my time off tumblr to spend with friends and family who have been supporting me through all of this and have been helping me deal with the emotional turmoil that this has caused. I'm sorry for the hassle this may cause especially towards the event, however i will do my best to rest emotionally, and come back healthier and better. I hope you all understand.

And to this stalker in particular: Please, leave me alone. I have been as patient as i can with you, but this has been the breaking point. Please, leave me alone, and please stop messaging me.

[obliqueblade]

A Post from a Friend

Hello, everyone. I am not Obliqueblade, and for those who have been here before, I’m sure you know what that means. For those unaware, or those stumbling across this blog in the future, I will explain. 

The original owner of this account, my best friend, has died. 

I didn't even know that she had a Tumblr, nor that she had planned to leave it with me after everything. It breaks my heart a bit to see her updates and talk about her prognosis as she did. 

I’m sure I’ll have more to say, eventually, I do plan on doing as she asked, completing her work the way she wanted- but for now, I want to grieve my friend. Then, I want to talk about who she was, explain just how much this community meant to her, and generally just talk about one of the greatest people I’ve known. 

She did leave a message she wrote a month ago, about a week before she passed, and I would like to share it with you all now. 

Feel free to leave comments, I’ll be back to answer soon. 

Thank you. 

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I have been putting this off for quite some time, but I fear I have no more time I can delay. Despite everything, I’m still a procrastinator at heart. I have spent far too much time thinking of how I want to address those who have stumbled onto my account and on my writing, but I fear for all my writing I am not sure how to word what I feel. 

Rather than continuing to wait, I have decided to write what I have collected of my thoughts thus far. I deeply appreciate those who have left likes, comments, and reposts of my writing- even those outside of “Who are you, really?”. When I started this journey, I had not anticipated it taking as long as it has. I also did not foresee what would occur at that time. I had thought I would live to see the end of my fic, but that can no longer be the case.

But that is the way life works, I suppose. Most people are not dealt the hands they deserve, nor are they given nearly enough time. 

I have always wished to help people- I had hoped that I would be able to achieve that in my life, but I am not sure I can say I have. Regardless, I am grateful for those who were able to contribute to my happiness these past few years. 

Recently, I have to admit I took a step back from writing, as well as watching Hermitcraft. I fear my heart may not be able to take not knowing what I will be left never to know. Waiting on those cliffhangers of “what’s next”- when I do not know if I will wake up tomorrow. 

I am satisfied with what I have seen so far, and as of writing this, Joel has announced his own TCG common card. I have asked the friend I have left this account for to get one on my behalf to join the others I have. I would like them, as well as all the merch I have to be with me. It feels important that even though I will no longer be here, those stay with me. 

While I may not be watching Hermitcraft as I wait, I am pleased with the memories I carry—the joy they bring me. The edits, art, and stories this community has created supported and distracted me in some of my darkest moments, and I truly regret that I will not be able to finish this story, with my own words, the way I had intended. 

Finally, I want to say, thank you. Even if you are discovering all of this after my passing, I am grateful to all those who have stumbled into my little corner of the internet. Just because I am gone, the things I have gotten to create will forever remain as moments captured from a different time.

This was truly the happiest few years of my life and in the words of Technoblade himself

 “I hope you all go on to live long, prosperous, and happy lives because I love you guys”

~ObliqueBlade Out