#and play you some music until you pass out and she draws on your face

[d1sc0-1nfern0]

Mei. My beloved. I love her so.

[nereidprinc3ss]

weber's law

in which spencer reid comforts fem!reader when she's having a panic attack at the rossi mansion

fluff warnings/tags: panic attack lol, spencer is really cute and sweet my little perfect cutie pie angel baby, classic spencer info dumps bc they're pretty much his love language, established relationship, cheesy and sweet at the end a/n: this one is for my queens with panic disorders who are triggered by literally nothing and everything i see you have this ilysm

When Spencer had invited you to a small get-together at Rossi’s, you’d imagined a small get-together at Rossi’s. 

And maybe that makes you a complete idiot. 

Or maybe Spencer is just so used to FBI work functions that to him, this really is small.

But now you’re sitting on an expensive couch in a very nice house, and you’re surrounded by FBI agents who are all milling around and talking and laughing, and you’re worried maybe your outfit doesn’t look as nice on you as you’d thought it did, and you keep having very vivid visions of spilling your drink all over a furry throw rug that probably costs more than your rent does. 

Music that could reasonably be considered relaxing or at the very least not objectionable plays over the sound system throughout the whole house and thus is inescapable—not that you’d get up from the couch even if you could, because Spencer is sitting to your right and he has his hand on your thigh and it’s the only thing that has until this point been keeping you from a full blown panic attack.

Maybe that makes you a complete idiot, too.

Regardless, you try to focus on nothing but the weight of his hand as it travels slowly up and down from knee to hip over the jeans you’re not so sure about, and the feeling of your breath coming and going, as slow as you can possibly summon it without passing out. 

Spencer is laughing at something JJ is saying as she stands next to the couch with Will and you really like JJ but her voice seems so loud right now, and nothing is going particularly wrong but everything feels so, so wrong it’s scary. 

All the buzzing tension in your body telling you to run away because you’re unsafe and at the same time locking you into place builds until you have to express it somehow. So you revert to an old habit—bouncing your leg rapidly like a rabbit thumping its foot. It’s not entirely conscious, but it feels better than being completely still. That is, until Spencer’s hand strays inward and cups just above your inner knee, where he begins fanning his thumb back and forth over the fabric. 

“What’s this?” he murmurs, head angled toward you and voice low enough to not draw attention. You force yourself to plant your heel to the ground even though it worsens the feeling of gears crunching in your chest. 

“Nothing. Sorry.”

That gets his attention. 

Because of course it does. He’s always telling you to stop saying sorry so often. 

His tone solidifies, still quiet but committed to this conversation now and no longer the whispery apparition of a quick aside. 

“Why are you sorry?” 

“I don’t know, it wasn’t—it’s nothing.”

You barely avoid apologizing again. 

For a moment he doesn’t speak, just watches you—and you make the mistake of raising your gaze to meet his. He has that curious, analytical look about him, concern tightening his eyes and knitting his brow. He’s doing that annoying mind-reading thing again, and as soon as he actually sees your eyes, he’s figured you out. 

“Do you want to go outside for a minute? Get some air?”

After examining his face for any clues that he’d rather stay in here, (not that you’d really know what to look for), you nod hesitantly. Spencer mirrors your nod and stands, holding out his hand for you to take as you follow suit after setting your drink on a side table (without spilling.)

JJ is now wrapped up in conversation with another agent and the two of you manage to abscond without attracting unwanted attention, which makes you feel slightly better as Spencer leads you deftly through rooms with high-vaulted ceilings and big windows and heavy, expensive looking oak furniture. It seems like you’ve been wandering through a maze when you arrive to a quieter part of the house and he opens a french door for you—which leads out onto an empty patio. 

A cool breeze immediately sinks into your skin, and your nervous system is so hyper-alert that it gives you chills. Spencer notices the way you shiver and steps closer after closing the door behind him, his hand finding the small of your back immediately. 

“You okay?” he asks, intentionally avoiding impeding your view of the sweeping backyard and the trees beyond. Sometimes focusing on something stationary is less overwhelming, but they’re so tall they seem imposing. Threatening, even. 

But then again, everything feels threatening right now. 

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

Spencer seems unconvinced by your monotone—when you glance over at him he’s still watching you like you’re a puzzle to be solved. 

“Are you sure? You can tell me if you’re not.”

“Why are you so convinced something is wrong?” you laugh, but it comes out too manic. You cross your arms. He looks pointedly at the motion. 

“For starters, that. Often times crossing your arms is a subconscious way of comforting yourself when you feel defensive or threatened. And you could say it’s because you’re cold, but—” he pauses, reaching out to touch your cheek. “I can feel how hot your face is, and you shivered when we came outside even though it’s 71 degrees because your nervous system is overreacting to external stimuli. The leg-bouncing is also often indicative of an activated parasympathetic nervous system. Is me touching you okay?”

Again, you nod—unsure how to deflect when he calls you out so efficiently. 

Spencer’s hand slides down to just beneath your jaw, where he rests two fingers. Each second that passes has him looking progressively more worried. You wish you weren’t quite so catatonic—the fairy lights hanging from the pergola shine through his hair and make him glow so appealingly you want to kiss his cheek. 

“Your heart rate is really high, honey.”

That would be due to the sense of impending doom. Thanks for pointing it out.

But you’ve lost your words, and along with them has gone your sense of humor. All you can manage for a 30 second span is a meaningless shake of your head as you avert your eyes, staring at the sprawling carpet of blue-green grass soaked in night as each blade doubles with your tears. 

“I think I’m dying,” you finally croak.

“Technically, we all are. Very slowly.”

Ah. There’s that social tact he’s so well known for. 

“Spencer.”

“Right,” he kisses your cheek as you stare up at him, affronted, and pulls you into his chest. “Sorry. I was actually trying to be helpful. Changes in brain chemistry and hormonal activity associated with panic attacks change your perception of time and make things feel really fast which can contribute to feelings of anxiety. But in reality time is moving just the same as it always is. One second is always one second. Sometimes remembering that helps me to slow down. Not literally, of course. My gravitational pull isn’t great enough to have any discernible effect on the passage of time.”

You sniff, pressing your cheek to his tie. His words make your head spin, seeing as you hadn't been prepared for a lecture in psychophysics—but it spins in the opposite direction than it had been going previously. It's nice.

“Change your perception of time?”

“Weber’s law of perception. Stimulus sensitivity will increase proportionally with increased stimulus intensity. You’re only perceiving time to be going faster because your cortisol and adrenaline levels are making you hyper-vigilant and sensitive to all the markers of time passing.”

“Like what?”

Spencer hums, the bass of it a comforting resonance against your ear, and strokes your hair unhurriedly. 

“Like… your internal clock. Your body measures time with your heartbeat, so when your heart rate increases, time seems to go faster. Also environmental cues, which lead you to understand that the world is not stagnant and thus is not frozen in time. Like the sound of the wind chimes…” he pauses, long enough for you to realize that indeed, you can hear the gentle, sonorous ringing and tinkling of steel chimes bouncing against each other. “And the wind itself, which is coming all the way from the Gulf of Mexico. Some studies actually suggest that wind direction can affect your energy levels and mood.”

It’s a gentle breeze more than it is full-blown wind. It feels cool against your hot skin. 

Spencer’s hand on the back of your head, still rhythmically smoothing your hair, seems to slow down the passage of time as well. You focus on that, and the sound of the wind chimes and the breeze on your skin for a few minutes, until your breathing and your heart rate slow and soon you regain your footing in the temporal dimension, exactly sure of where you stand on Rossi’s patio and in your boyfriend’s arms. 

“You tricked me into doing a grounding exercise,” you mumble into Spencer’s jacket. 

“I did not trick you,” he defends, voice quiet to match yours. “I just wanted to make you feel better. Did it work?”

You pull away from him and he lets you, watching on as you sniffle and wipe your tears on your sleeves. 

“Yeah, it did. Thank you.”

For a moment, neither of you speak as you gather yourself. He leads you by the hand to a cushioned hanging bench at the end of the patio, taking a seat next to you and gently rocking the swing. 

“Do you know what triggered that?” Spencer asks, over the gentle creaking sound. You shrug, observing the dance of the fireflies in the grass. 

“Nothing. Sometimes I just feel like everything’s wrong and scary but I didn’t want to tell you and ruin your night.”

“Hey,” Spencer murmurs, pulling you into him with an arm around your shoulder. “You are not ruining my night. I don’t want you to worry about that.”

“But all your friends and coworkers are inside, and you’re out here with me.”

He angles his head down toward you and you look up to meet his eyes, even warmer than the sticky summer night. 

“I am. Do you know why?”

“Because I suck,” you sniffle, more hot tears rolling down your cheeks as you attempt to look away. But Spencer’s not having it. He encourages you to sit up again so you can look at him properly, before wiping tears away gently with his thumb. When he speaks, it’s in soft, soothing tones. 

“No. I’m out here because if all my friends were inside having fun, and you were outside having a panic attack, I would choose you every time.”

You manage a laugh through the crying. 

“I don’t know if that’s healthy.”

“Whether or not it’s healthy is an entirely different discussion,” Spencer smiles wryly, before it melts into something softer and more sincere. “All that matters is that it’s true.”

For a while after that, you simply lay your head on his shoulder. Spencer controls the speed of the swing with his much-longer legs, kissing your head and rubbing your arm as you admire the expanse of Rossi’s lush yard bathed in moonlight and the black silhouette of the forest beyond. 

Eventually, Spencer speaks again, likely to make sure you’re not spiraling alone in your head. 

“Can I tell you an extremely classified secret that I've been trying really hard to keep to myself for three days?” he asks, and the mischievous edge to his voice catches your attention. You hum in assent, already wondering what kind of information Spencer would have a hard time keeping to himself. It could be anything. 

“Anderson is sleeping with Childers from Operational Tech.”

“What?”

Despite not working for the FBI yourself, Spencer and Penelope have you so filled in on the drama that you know exactly why that’s shocking. 

You pick your head up to look at him like do not fuck with me right now. 

His eyes sparkle as he nods.

“Yep.”

“Didn’t you tell me Childers was dating that girl in sex crimes?”

Spencer raises his eyebrows. The corner of his mouth twitches. You gasp. 

“No! What? Does Anderson know?”

“I don’t know. I certainly didn’t want to be the one to tell him.”

“Wait—Anderson told you this?”

“Yeah!” He laughs incredulously at your complete disbelief. “People tell me things! I’m an excellent confidant!”

“If you’re relaying all of this information to me then you’re a terrible confidant,” you chuckle, still watery—but feeling light years better. 

Spencer brushes your hair away from your face fondly, leaning a fraction of an inch closer. 

“You don’t count. Telling you secrets is basically the same as keeping them to myself.”

“Basically,” you tease, angling your head up by a few degrees in invitation. Spencer says nothing, does nothing for a long moment—just studies you with soft eyes, continues stroking your cheek. When he takes too long to kiss you, you get impatient. “I’m still kinda anxious, you know.”

He smiles knowingly.  

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you nod, looking pointedly at his lips. “You should kiss me better.”

“I think that would take more than just one kiss,” he murmurs through a smile, leaning ever closer until your noses are bumping. “I think I would have to devote several hours to that. Maybe even a whole day.”

“How does tomorrow look for you?” 

He’s laughing as he finally presses his lips to yours. The kiss is sweet and lingering. 

“For you? It’s wide open.”

[flwrstqr]

𓈃 ★ PRINCESS DIAIRIES | PARK SUNGHOON

synopsis you are a shy, awkward teenager living with your artist mother. your life is turned upside down when you discover you are the heir to the throne of genovia. at first, you're reluctant to accept your new identity. as you face challenges at school, with the media, and within yourself, you struggle to balance your normal life with your royal duties. sunghoon, who has secretly liked you for a long time, finds himself falling even more for you as he sees you grow into your new role. as you navigate your new life, you and sunghoon grow closer, sharing quiet moments and, most importantly, falling in love.

word count 6.8k+

meet the cast best friend's brother!sunghoon x quiet kid/princess!fem reader (feat haneul from kiss of life + other ocs)

genre high school au, royal au, angst, fluff, romance, best friend brother au, unpopular to popular, crack, princess diaries based

warnings swearing, kissing, small grammar errors, everyone being mean to yn at first, some annoying characters, mentions barfing, yn being played by a boy at one point, some second hand embarrassment scene 😓,

danielle's note 𖥔 so i just watched like princess diaries yesterday and i ended up falling in love with it so i wanted to write a long ass au for this. plus like i had to cook up a good plot so 😈 sorry if this is ass but anyways i hope u guys enjoy this (this fic is for my fav hoon stan ><)

﹙⠀ PLAYiNG . . . ⠀good luck babe by chappell roan, feather by sabrina carpenter, saturn by sza, i love you so by the walters, obsessed by olivia rodrigo, xo by enhypen, break up with your girlfriend by ariana grande

YOU WAKE UP TO THE SOFT CHIMES OF YOUR ALARM, gradually getting louder until you reach over and silence it. You fumble for your glasses on the bedside table. Once they're on, the world comes into focus: your room adorned with vibrant art pieces that was made by your mother.

You stretch and get out of bed, your feet touching the cool floor. Your school uniform is laid out neatly on the chair by your desk: a skirt, a crisp white blouse, and a blazer. You put on the uniform, the fabric feeling stiff but familiar. As you stand in front of the mirror, you run a brush quickly through your hair. Makeup isn’t part of your routine; you prefer to keep things simple.

Heading downstairs, you hear the familiar sounds of your mom humming along to music in her studio. You grab your backpack from the hook by the door and slip on your shoes. The house smells of fresh paint and coffee, a comforting mix you've grown up with.

“Have a good day at school, sweetheart! Also, don't be nervous during the speech!” your mom calls from her studio, not looking up from her canvas.

“Thanks, Mom. I will,” you reply softly, even though she can't see you.

Stepping outside, the morning air is cool and crisp. You take a deep breath, adjusting your backpack on your shoulders, and start walking to school. You keep your head down, not wanting to draw any attention to yourself.

YOU ARRIVE AT SCHOOL, spotting Haneul leaning against the bike racks, her face lighting up as she sees you. She's waving enthusiastically, and you can’t help but smile back. Haneul, like you, is considered one of the "losers," known for being a "nerd." But she’s your best friend, and that label doesn’t bother either of you much.

“Hey,” you greet her, adjusting your backpack.

“Morning! Ready for another thrilling day of high school?” she jokes, rolling her eyes.

You both laugh and start walking towards your first class. As usual, you pass the popular girls, Eunae and her two "minions", who are gossiping loudly by their lockers. Your eyes dart towards your crush, Siwoo, who’s with them. His blonde hair is always perfectly styled, falling just above his eyebrows in a way that frames his sharp, expressive eyes. Those eyes, a deep shade of brown, seem to hold a confident, almost teasing glint. His smile is captivating, often described as a blend of boyish charm and genuine warmth, making him instantly likable to many (such as you). Your heart sinks as you see him kissing Eunae. You roll your eyes, trying to forget it.

“Ugh, seriously?” Haneul mutters, noticing the scene as well. “She’s so fake.”

You nod in agreement, but your attention shifts as you catch sight of Sunghoon, Haneul’s older brother, standing nearby. His dark hair, slightly tousled, falls naturally around his face. His eyes, a striking shade of hazel, are often focused.

You give him a small wave. Sunghoon notices and waves back, his smile warm and genuine. The bell rings, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Come on, we don’t want to be late,” Haneul says, tugging at your sleeve.

“Yeah, let’s go,” you reply, falling into step beside her as you make your way to class.

CLASS TIME BEGINS, and your heart races as you try to focus on the lesson. When Siwoo stands up to give his speech, you can't help but be mesmerized. His blonde hair is perfect, shining under the classroom lights, and his confidence radiates as he speaks. You know Siwoo isn’t the brightest student, more of an athlete than an academic, but that doesn’t matter to you. He’s cute, and that’s enough.

As he finishes his speech, Eunae and her two friends erupt into loud cheers, their high-pitched voices echoing in the room. You roll your eyes internally but feel a pang of nervousness as you realize your turn is coming up. Public speaking has always been your weak point.

When your name is called, you stand up, feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes on you. Your legs feel like jelly as you walk to the podium, your heart pounding in your chest. You hear Eunae giggling with her friends, and it only heightens your anxiety.

"Look who's next," Eunae whispers loudly to her friends, making sure you hear.

You take a deep breath and start your speech, but the words come out in a stutter. "S-so..."

You push up your glasses, hoping it will give you some confidence, but it only makes things worse. The giggles turn into outright laughter, and you can feel your cheeks burning with embarrassment. Your stomach churns, making you feel like you’re going to be sick.

"Oh my God, she can't even talk properly," Eunae says, loud enough for the whole class to hear. More laughter follows her comment.

In the far corner of the room, you notice Sunghoon watching. His eyes are calm, and there's a hint of concern in his expression You feel like you're about to barf and, in a panic, you rush out of the classroom. The laughter follows you, echoing in your ears.

Once outside, you lean against the wall, taking deep breaths to calm yourself. Tears prick at your eyes as the embarrassment washes over you. You feel utterly defeated, wishing you could just disappear. You were always the invisible one, what should you expect?

AFTER SCHOOL, you walk home, the events of the day replaying in your mind. When you step inside, the familiar smell of your mom's cooking greets you. You head to the kitchen, where she’s stirring something on the stove.

"Hey, sweetheart," she says, looking up with a concerned expression. "I heard you barfed in class today. Are you okay?"

You sigh, dropping your backpack on the floor. "Yeah, it was just… really embarrassing."

Your mom walks over and gives you a comforting hug. "I'm sorry that happened. Kids can be really mean sometimes."

You nod, feeling a bit better with her support. "Thanks, Mom."

She pulls back and looks at you seriously. "There’s something I need to tell you. Your grandmother is coming over for tea next week."

You look at her, confused. "Grandmother? But we never talk to her."

"I know," your mom says, her tone softening. "This is the first time we’re going to meet her. She’s your father's mother. After your father passed away a few months ago, she reached out. She said she wanted to speak with you specifically."

You blink in surprise. "Me? Why me?"

"I don’t know," your mom admits. "But I think it’s important to hear her out. She might have something to share that’s meaningful to you."

You take a deep breath, feeling a mix of curiosity and apprehension. "Okay. I’ll talk to her."

Your mom gives you a reassuring smile. "It’ll be fine." You nod, trying to push aside any other thoughts on your mind.

YOU WALK INTO THE CAR MOTOR PLACE, the familiar scent of oil and rubber filling the air. Your heart races as you see your Mustang in the garage, a little closer to the dream car you’ve been saving up for. It still needs a lot of work, but you’re determined to have it ready for your 17th birthday.

As you approach the car, you hear the final notes of a performance. Sunghoon finishes his set and the crowd disperses, girls whispering excitedly about how hot he is. But he pays them no mind. Instead, he walks straight toward you, his eyes lighting up with a genuine smile.

"Hey," he greets, his voice smooth and warm. "Checking on the car?"

You nod, unable to help but smile back. "Yeah, it's coming along slowly but surely."

He glances at the Mustang, then back at you. "It's going to look amazing when it's done. You've been saving it up for a while,"

You blush at the compliment, feeling a flutter in your chest. "Thanks, Sunghoon."

His smile widens, and he leans a bit closer. "If you need any help with the car, just let me know. I'd be happy to lend a hand."

"Really? That would be amazing," you reply, feeling a warmth spread through you at his offer.

Sunghoon's eyes twinkle "Anything for you," he says softly, before giving you one last smile.

YOU STAND AT THE ENTRANCE OF THE GRAND MANSION, your eyes wide with awe. The sheer size and elegance of the mansion are overwhelming. Fancy maids and butlers bustle around. You clutch your cheap, simple backpack, a gift from your mother three years ago, and adjust your school uniform nervously. Your hair is a bit messy, and your glasses keep slipping down your nose.

As you step inside, the grandeur of the place hits you like a tidal wave. The floors are polished to a gleaming shine, intricate chandeliers hang from the high ceilings, and every piece of furniture looks like it belongs in a museum. You can't help but feel out of place, a small figure in this space.

Just then, you hear the soft click of heels on the marble floor. You look up to see her, your grandmother, a woman you've never met before. She descends the grand staircase with an air of grace and authority, her posture perfect and her gaze steady. She's dressed in an elegant gown, a deep shade of blue that compliments her dignified demeanor. In contrast, you feel even more self-conscious about your plain school uniform.

"Hello, dear," she greets you with a refined smile. Her voice is smooth and cultured, a stark contrast to your own uncertain tone. You mumble a shy greeting in return, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Please, sit," she says, gesturing to a plush armchair near the grand fireplace. You sit down cautiously, feeling the softness of the cushion beneath you. A maid approaches and places a delicate china teacup in front of you, the steam rising in gentle curls.

Your grandmother takes a seat across from you. She reaches into a small velvet box and retrieves a necklace and charm, the gold catching the light in a mesmerizing way. "Here's a gift," she says, handing it to you, "has been passed down through our family for generations."

You take the necklace. The charm is intricate, a tiny masterpiece that speaks of history and legacy. You swallow hard, feeling a lump form in your throat. You play around with it nervously as your grandmother eyes you quietly.

As you sip your tea, you can't help but make a bit of noise, your lack of manners showing. Your grandmother eyes you critically but says nothing about your manners. Instead, she clears her throat, the sound resonating in the quiet room.

"I have some news for you," she announces, her tone serious and measured.

You stop stirring your tea and look up, pushing your glasses up your nose in a nervous habit. "What is it?" you ask, curious.

She takes a deep breath, her gaze steady and unwavering. "You are the Princess of Genovia."

For a moment, the world seems to stand still. You choke on your tea, coughing violently as you try to process her words. "What?" you exclaim.

She nods, her expression grave. "Your father was the Prince of Genovia, which makes you the next heir."

"No, no way," you stammer, shaking your head, "I'm just… an invisible me. There's no way I'm a princess."

Your grandmother's gaze softens slightly, "It's true, my dear. Your father never had the chance to tell you, but this is your birthright."

The weight of her words presses down on you, a crushing force that makes it hard to breathe. Your life, once simple and predictable, has been changed.

"No," you whisper, your voice trembling. "This can't be happening."

Your grandmother is about to explain further, her lips parting to speak, but the overwhelming reality hits you like a freight train. You stand up abruptly, your chair scraping against the floor with a harsh sound that echoes in the grand room. "I need to go," you say, your voice breaking.

Without waiting for a response, you turn and rush out of the mansion, your footsteps echoing in the vast hallway. you push the door open, the bright sunlight outside momentarily blinding you. You stumble down the steps.

You walk quickly, almost running, trying to put as much distance between yourself and the mansion as possible. How can this be real? How can you, an quiet girl with a simple life, be a princess? You are the Princess of Genovia. And your life will never be the same again.

THE NEXT DAY, the reality of the previous day’s still hangs heavily over you. You can hardly focus on anything, your mind constantly drifting back to the shocking news. You try to go about your usual routine, but everything feels different, surreal.

As you sit at the kitchen table, pushing your breakfast around your plate, you hear a knock at the door. Your mother goes to answer it, and you strain to hear the conversation. Your heart skips a beat when you hear your grandmother’s voice.

“Hello, my dear,” she greets your mother politely. “May I come in?”

“Of course,” your mother replies, sounding a bit nervous.

They walk into the kitchen together, and your grandmother’s presence fills the small room. She’s dressed impeccably, her elegance stark against the worn, cozy surroundings of your home.

“Good morning,” she says to you with a gentle smile. “I hope you’re feeling a bit better today.”

You manage a nod, but the tightness in your chest doesn’t ease. You notice your mother looks anxious, avoiding your gaze.

“Please, have a seat,” your mother offers, gesturing to a chair. Your grandmother sits gracefully, folding her hands in her lap.

“Yesterday was overwhelming, I know,” your grandmother begins, her tone soft but firm. “But we need to talk more about this. There are important things you need to understand.”

You remain silent, feeling a mix of resentment and curiosity.

“There’s a royal ball in two months,” she continues. “It’s an important event where you’ll be formally introduced as the Princess of Genovia. It’s crucial for our country and for you.”

Your mother takes a deep breath, finally looking at you. “I know this is a lot to take in,” she says. “I should have told you earlier, but I wanted to protect you. I wanted you to have a normal life.”

You feel a surge of frustration. “You knew? All this time?” you ask, your voice shaking.

Your mother nods, her eyes filled with regret. “Yes, I knew. I’m sorry, honey. I thought it was for the best.”

Your grandmother reaches out, placing a hand on yours. “I understand that this is a lot to accept. But you have a duty, a responsibility to your heritage. This is your birthright.”

You pull your hand back, feeling overwhelmed. “I’m just a normal girl. I don’t know anything about being a princess.”

Your grandmother’s expression softens. “You may feel that way now, but you have the potential to be a great leader. We will help you every step of the way. You won’t be alone in this.”

Your mother’s eyes plead with you. “Please, sweetheart. Give it a chance. We’ll support you in any way we can.”

You sit in silence for a few moments, the weight of their words pressing down on you. The idea of being a princess, attending a royal ball, and stepping into a completely different world feels terrifying. But there’s a small part of you that’s curious, that wonders what it would be like to be this new identity.

Finally, you let out a shaky breath. “Okay,” you say reluctantly. “I’ll do it.”

A FEW DAYS LATER, the sun casts a warm glow over your grandmother’s mansion as you arrive. You clutch your simple backpack, feeling out of place yet again as you step into the grand foyer. Your grandmother greets you with a kind smile, her eyes twinkling with anticipation.

“Today’s the day,” she says, leading you to a large room filled with mirrors and high-end beauty products. “I’ve arranged for the best stylists to give you a makeover. They’ll help you look the part of a princess.”

You nod, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. As you take a seat, a team of stylists and beauticians file into the room, each one carrying various tools and products. They begin their work, chatting amiably as they discuss your transformation.

For nearly four hours, you sit patiently as they work their magic. Your hair is trimmed and styled into a sleek, elegant look that frames your face perfectly. Your eyebrows are shaped, making your eyes look bigger and more defined. They remove your glasses and fit you with contact lenses, giving you a clearer view of the world without the barrier of frames.

As they finish up, you catch glimpses of yourself in the mirror, hardly recognizing the person staring back at you. Your skin glows, your features are more defined, and you look… different. Beautiful, even.

Just then, your grandmother walks back into the room. She pauses mid-step, her eyes widening in shock as she takes in your transformation. You stand up and turn to face her, feeling a rush of nerves.

“Oh my,” she breathes, her voice filled with awe. “You look absolutely stunning.”

You blush, feeling a mix of pride and embarrassment. “Really?”

“Really,” she confirms, stepping closer to take a better look. “Your hair, your eyes, everything… You look like a true princess.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through you. The stylists beam with pride, knowing they’ve done an excellent job.

Your grandmother reaches out to gently touch your hair. “This is just the beginning, my dear.”

As you walk through the grand halls of the mansion, you feel different. Lighter. More confident. You catch a glimpse of yourself in a large, ornate mirror as you pass by, and for the first time, you see not just a girl, but a princess.

THE NEXT DAY, YOU SIT NERVOUSLY IN THE BACK OF THE LIMO, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your skirt. You’ve been riding in this luxurious vehicle for a few days now, but it still feels surreal. The thought of people judging you for your sudden change in appearance and status makes your stomach churn. Today, you’re picking up Haneul and Sunghoon.

As the limo pulls up in front of their house, you take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. The driver opens the door, and Sunghoon steps inside. His jaw drops as he sees you, his eyes widening in shock.

“Y/N… you look…” He’s completely speechless, his gaze fixed on you.

Before he can finish his sentence, Haneul appears, her voice breaking the silence. “Sunghoon, get in already—” Her words trail off as she sees you, her eyes widening in surprise.

Sunghoon finally finds his voice. “You look amazing,” he says, blush creeping up his cheek.

Haneul, on the other hand, doesn’t share his enthusiasm. She crosses her arms, her expression turning sour. “So, what’s the deal? You get a makeover and now you’re one of those popular girls who’ll ditch us?”

Your heart sinks at her words. “Haneul, it’s not like that…”

“It sure seems like it,” she snaps, her voice filled with hurt. “You think you’re better than us now?”

Sunghoon, sensing the tension, tries to intervene. “Haneul, that’s not fair. Let’s hear her out.”

You feel a mix of frustration and sadness. “I haven’t changed on the inside. I’m still me. There’s just a lot going on right now.”

Haneul raises an eyebrow. “Like what?”

The limo moves closer to the school, and you feel the pressure mounting. “I can’t explain it all right now, but you need to trust me.”

As the limo approaches the school, you grab a hat from your bag and put it on, hoping to avoid drawing too much attention. You quickly get out of the car, pulling Haneul aside while Sunghoon steps out slowly, still in shock.

“Haneul, listen,” you whisper urgently, glancing around to make sure no one is overhearing. “I need to tell you something. Please, just hear me out.”

Haneul crosses her arms, still looking skeptical but nods for you to continue.

You take a deep breath, lowering your voice even further. “I’m a princess. The Princess of Genovia.”

“What?” Haneul whispers, her anger dissipating into surprise.

“It’s true,” you say, your voice trembling. “I found out a few days ago. My grandmother told me. My father was the Prince of Genovia, which makes me the next heir.”

Haneul’s expression softens as she processes your words. “Really?” she asks, her voice filled with wonder. “You’re a real princess?”

You nod, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “Yes. And it’s been overwhelming. I didn’t mean to hide it from you.”

Haneul’s face breaks into a smile, and she reaches out to squeeze your hand. “Why didn’t you just say so? That’s amazing! I’m sorry I was so harsh.”

"I'm sorry, I couldn't tell anyone." I say, shrugging.

Haneul giggles. “So, does this mean we get to visit a castle?”

You laugh, “Maybe one day. But for now, I need you both to keep this a secret.”

Haneul nods “Absolutely. My lips are sealed.”

YOU SIT IN CLASS, your hat pulled low to avoid drawing attention. Your fingers tap nervously on your desk as you try to focus on your work. The day has already been overwhelming, and the last thing you want is more eyes on you. But as the class progresses, you hear a familiar, smug voice from across the room.

“Sir, Y/N is wearing a hat, and I think that’s against the school dress code,” Eunae says, a smirk playing on her lips.

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment as the class turns to look at you. The teacher glances up from his desk, adjusting his glasses.

“Oh, well, that is true,” he says, his tone regretful but firm. “Y/N, unfortunately, you have to take your hat off.”

Taking a deep breath, you reach up and slowly remove your hat, letting your hair cascade down your back. You can feel everyone’s eyes on you, and you brace yourself for the inevitable laughter or teasing. Instead, you hear a murmur of whispers filling the room.

“Oh my god, Y/N, you’re so pretty! Can we be friends?” one girl exclaims.

“Your hair is gorgeous!” another student adds, their tone filled with genuine admiration.

You look up, seeing the mean girls from your class suddenly smiling at you, their previous disdain replaced with a strange, almost predatory friendliness.

“I think it’s a wig,” someone whispers, a hint of skepticism in their voice.

Before the whispers can escalate, Haneul’s voice cuts through the noise. “I think her hair is gorgeous,” she says loudly, her tone firm and supportive. “But let’s get back to class. We have more important things to focus on.”

Her words have the desired effect, and the classroom falls silent. The teacher nods approvingly and returns to the lesson. You glance at Haneul, gratitude evident in your eyes. She gives you a reassuring smile, and you feel a sense of relief wash over you.

YOU'RE WALKING TO SCHOOL ON AC RISP MORNING. Sunghoon is beside you, his hands tucked into the pockets of his uniform.

"So, YN," Sunghoon begins, his tone casual, but there's a hint of something more beneath it. "Do you have any plans for Saturday?"

You glance over at him, raising an eyebrow. "Not really. Why do you ask?"

Sunghoon hesitates for a moment, then looks at you with a mix of hope and excitement. "Well, my band is performing at this new place downtown. It's kind of a big deal for us, and I was wondering if you'd like to come."

You stop walking, "Really? That sounds amazing! I'd love to come."

A grin spreads across Sunghoon's face, and he looks relieved. "Great! It starts at seven. I'll send you all the details later." As you start walking again, the conversation shifts back to lighter topic.

"You know," you say after a while, "I've always wanted to see you perform. This is going to be so cool."

Sunghoon chuckles, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "I'm glad you're excited. It means a lot to me that you'll be there."

When you reach the school gates, Sunghoon turns to you, "Thanks, YN. For coming on Saturday. I know it's going to be awesome with you there."

You smile, giving him a gentle nudge. "Wouldn't miss it for the world. See you later,"

A FEW DAYS PASS, and you're walking through the bustling school courtyard, lost in thought about what you might wear on Saturday, when you hear someone call your name.

You turn around to see Siwoo, the school's star athlete and the crush you've harbored for as long as you can remember. He's walking toward you with that effortless confidence that always makes your heart race. The chatter around you seems to fade as he gets closer, and you can feel a rush of butterflies in your stomach.

"Hey, YN," Siwoo says, his voice smooth and casual. "Got a minute?"

You nod, trying to keep your cool. "Sure, what's up?"

Siwoo runs a hand through his hair, looking almost bashful for a moment. "So, I broke up with Eunae."

Your eyes widen in surprise. Eunae, the queen bee of the school and someone who has made your life particularly difficult, is no longer with Siwoo? You can't help but feel a tiny spark of hope. "Oh, wow. I didn't know."

Siwoo shrugs, his usual smirk returning. "Yeah, it just wasn't working out. Anyway, there's this beach party on Saturday. I was wondering if you wanted to go with me."

Your heart nearly stops. Is this really happening? You, the one who has always admired him from afar, being asked to a party by Siwoo? Without hesitation, you blurt out, "Oh my god? Yes?"

Siwoo's smirk widens, and he gives you a wink. "Great. I'll pick you up at seven."

As he walks away, you can't help but watch him go, your mind spinning. The butterflies in your stomach are in full force now, and you feel like you're floating. You finally manage to turn around and head to your next class, but your thoughts are excitement and disbelief.

For the rest of the day, you can't focus on anything. You keep replaying the moment in your mind, wondering if it was all a dream. But no, it was real, and now you have plans for Saturday with Siwoo.

YOU STEP OUT OF THE LIMO, adjusting your school bag on your shoulder. You take a deep breath, ready to face another day of classes and the usual high school chaos. But today, something feels off.

Suddenly, there's a commotion. A crowd of photographers and reporters seem to materialize out of nowhere, cameras flashing and microphones thrust towards you.

"Is it true you're the princess of Genovia?"

"How long have you known?"

"What's your next step as royalty?"

You stand there, stunned and overwhelmed. Your heart races as the realization dawns on you: the secret is out. You glance around frantically and spot Haneul, your best friend and the only person you trusted with the truth. Her eyes are wide with shock, and you can't help but wonder if she was the one who let it slip.

Everyone around you is whispering, their curious and excited gazes fixed on you. Some are even reaching out, asking for your autograph.

Before you can fully process what's happening, you're gently but firmly guided through the crowd by school security and pushed towards the principal's office.

You sit in the chair, your mind spinning with a thousand thoughts and questions. Moments later, the door opens, and your grandmother strides in.

"YN," she says, her tone calm but serious. "We need to discuss the next steps for you. I've already spoken to the principal about the necessary procedures to ensure your safety and academic success."

You nod, still in a daze. "What's going to happen now?"

She sits down beside you, her expression softening slightly. "Things will change, my dear. There will be more security, and certain aspects of your education will need to be adjusted to accommodate your new responsibilities. But don't worry, we'll handle this together."

The principal enters, looking a bit flustered but maintaining a professional demeanor. "We've arranged for additional security measures starting today. Also, your schedule will be slightly adjusted."

You take a deep breath, trying to absorb everything.

THE SUN IS SETTING OVER THE BEACH, casting a warm golden glow across the sand. The beach party is in full swing, with music playing and laughter filling the air. You’re sitting with Siwoo by a bonfire, enjoying the feeling of the cool breeze and the warmth of his presence. He’s been attentive all evening, and you can hardly believe that you're here with him, the guy you’ve admired for so long.

He leans in closer, his voice low. "I'm really glad you came tonight, YN."

You smile, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. "Me too, Siwoo."

Just as the moment seems perfect, a sudden burst of light blinds you. You blink, confused, as you realize it’s the flash of a camera. Then another, and another. You look around and see a swarm of paparazzi emerging from the shadows, their cameras aimed directly at you.

"Princess YN, over here!"

"How does it feel to be the princess of Genovia?"

The questions come rapid-fire, and the crowd presses closer. Panic sets in as you realize your private moment is being invaded. You look at Siwoo, who seems just as stunned as you are.

"Come on, we need to get out of here," he says, grabbing your hand.

You run together, dodging through the throng of people and flashing cameras. He leads you to a small beach shed and pulls you inside, closing the door behind you.

Siwoo looks at you, concern in his eyes. "Are you okay?"

You nod, trying to catch your breath. "Yeah, I just… I didn't expect this."

He steps closer, his gaze intense. "Neither did I. But, YN, there's something I've wanted to do all night."

He leans in, and for a moment, you think he's going to kiss you. But something feels off. The reality of your situation crashes down on you. This isn’t how you imagined it, not surrounded by paparazzi and hiding in a shed.

You try to pull away, but Siwoo's grip tightens slightly.

Just as you're about to push him away, the door of the shed creaks open slightly, and the flash of a camera captures the moment. Realization hits you like a ton of bricks. This was all a setup. Siwoo purposely kissed you in front of the cameras.

"I can't do this," you say, your voice trembling as you push your way out. "I'm sorry."

Before he can respond, you slip out of the shed, the flashes blinding you once again. You hear the paparazzi shouting and the clicks of their cameras, but all you can think about is getting away. You run down the beach, tears stinging your eyes.

THE NEXT MORNING, you pick up the newspaper on your doorstep and your heart drops at the front-page headline:

THE DAILY BUZZ

PRINCESS OF GENOVIA HAS A BOYFRIEND?

Photos of the Princess in a Beach Scandal

Your stomach churns as you see the photos of Siwoo kissing you splashed across the front page. The headline is bold, the images intrusive and unmissable. The story details the scandal that erupted at the beach party, with paparazzi capturing every moment of your private exchange.

You arrive at school, clutching the newspaper in your hand. Whispers follow you through the halls, eyes lingering on you with curiosity and judgment. You can hear snippets of conversations as you pass by.

"Did you see the photos? I can't believe it's true!"

"She's really the princess of Genovia, and now she's got a boyfriend?"

The words sting, but what hurts more is the realization you have yet to face: Sunghoon. You had forgotten about the whole performance on Saturday. You scan the hallway and finally spot him by his locker, his face buried in a book. As you approach, he looks up, and your heart sinks further. His eyes are cold, filled with disappointment and hurt.

"Sunghoon," you start, your voice barely above a whisper. "I—"

But before you can continue, the bell rings, echoing through the corridor. You glance at the clock, realizing you have to get to your private class. You want to stay and explain, to apologize, but you know you can’t afford to be late.

"I'm sorry," you manage to say, but Sunghoon has already turned away.

YOU RETREAT TO YOUR ROOM, hoping for some quiet time. Hours pass as you lie on your bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying everything in your mind—the paparazzi, the headlines, Sunghoon's hurt expression.

As the night deepens, a realization slowly dawns on you, one that sends a jolt through your heart. You don't have feelings for Siwoo. The excitement and attraction were all lies, fueled by the thrill of being noticed by someone so popular. But when you think about Sunghoon, it's different. You remember all the moments you've shared, the way he makes you laugh, the way he genuinely cares about you.

Sitting up, you take a deep breath. It’s Sunghoon. It’s always been Sunghoon.

YOU PACE AROUND YOUR LIVING ROOM, your heart heavy with the weight of the misunderstanding. Mustering the courage, you pick up the phone and call him.

"Hey, can you come over? I really need to talk to you," you ask softly.

There's a pause on the other end before Sunghoon finally agrees.

When he arrives, he looks weary, the pain still evident in his eyes. You take a deep breath and begin, "Sunghoon, I'm so sorry. I need to explain what happened. Siwoo was using me, and I didn't realize it until it was too late. I didn't meant to skip your band performance."

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I… I believe you."

"I know, and I'm so sorry," you repeat, your voice earnest. After a moment, you look at him, your heart pounding. "There's something else. Can you come to the ball with me? It's the Genovia Special Ball, and I want you to come with me."

Sunghoon looks at you, surprised. "What?"

You smile a little and repeat yourself, "Will you come with me to the ball?"

After a few moments, he nods slowly. "Okay, I'll go."

THE DAY OF THE GRAND BALL HAD FINALLY ARRIVED, but instead of excitement, you were overwhelmed with stress. Your grandmother was incredibly upset about the whole situation, her stern words echoing in your mind. The pressure of becoming a princess was suffocating, and in a moment of desperation, you decided to run off.

As you hurriedly packed your things, you noticed a letter on your desk. With trembling hands, you opened it and began to read.

"Dearest Y/N,

If you’re reading this, it means the time has come for you to embrace your destiny. I know it seems daunting, but remember, you are stronger than you think. You have the heart of a lion and the grace of a swan. Being a princess isn’t about perfection; it’s about kindness, courage, and love. I believe in you, and I know you will make me proud. Trust yourself, and remember, you are never alone.

With all my love, Dad"

Tears welled up in your eyes as you read his words. You realized, you couldn't run away from reality and you had to face it.

Meanwhile, at the ball, Sunghoon was waiting anxiously. He felt betrayed and worried as you hadn't shown up yet. Your grandmother, too, was nervous, glancing at the door every few minutes, hoping you would walk through.

Sunghoon paced near the entrance, his eyes darting to the door every few seconds. "Where is she?" he muttered under his breath, clenching his fists. He felt a pang of hurt, thinking you had left him again.

Your grandmother, regal yet tense, addressed the crowd with a forced smile. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your patience. My granddaughter will be joining us shortly."

Determined, you dashed out into the pouring rain, hailing a taxi to the grand party. The rain soaked through your dress, but you didn’t care. You arrived, drenched from head to toe, but your resolve was unshaken. You rushed inside, interrupting your grandmother's speech. She was shocked to see you, but relief washed over her face as she motioned for you to come forward.

"Y/N, my dear," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. "You made it."

Soaking wet, you stood beside her, and she handed you the microphone. Despite your usual fear of public speaking, you felt an unexpected calmness. You began your speech, your voice steady and clear.

"Ladies and gentlemen," you started, taking a deep breath, "I apologize for my tardiness. Today, I was reminded of the true meaning of being a princess. It’s not about the crown or the title, but about the responsibility to lead. My father’s words reminded me of this, and I am here to honor him and all of you."

You paused, scanning the room filled with expectant faces. "Being a princess means embracing the values that truly matter: compassion, integrity, and dedication to our people. It's about standing up for what is right, even when it is difficult. It's about listening to the voices of those who cannot be heard and offering a hand to those in need."

You took another deep breath, feeling the weight of the crown yet also the support of your father's spirit. "My father taught me that true leadership comes from the heart. It's about being a beacon of hope and a pillar of strength for others. I promise to uphold these values and to be the princess that you all deserve."

The crowd listened intently, and by the time you finished, they erupted in cheers. Your grandmother placed the crown on your head, and you were officially crowned princess.

YOU SLIPPED INTO A BREATHTAKING GOWN OF SILK AND LACE , its intricate design accentuating your every movement. Your hair was swept up into an elegant chignon, adorned with delicate jewels that sparkled under the ballroom lights.

You took a deep breath, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement as you re-entered the ballroom. The music had started, and couples were already dancing. Your eyes searched the room until they found Sunghoon, who was waiting for you near the dance floor. His eyes lit up when he saw you, and he quickly made his way to your side.

"You look stunning," he whispered, offering his hand. You blushed and took it, feeling the warmth of his touch.

"Thank you," you replied softly. "Shall we?"

He led you to the center of the dance floor, and the music shifted to a slow, romantic melody. Sunghoon's arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer as he began to lead you in the dance. The world seemed to fade away as you moved in perfect harmony, your eyes locked on each other.

"You did amazing tonight," Sunghoon said, his voice low and sincere. "I'm so proud of you."

You smiled, your heart swelling with gratitude and affection. "I couldn't have done it without you," you admitted. "Thank you for believing in me."

As the dance continued, the room seemed to blur around you, leaving only the two of you in focus. Sunghoon's arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer.

"Y/N," he murmured, his breath warm against your cheek. "There's something I've wanted to tell you for a long time."

Your heart raced, and you felt a flutter of anticipation. "What is it?" you whispered, barely able to breathe.

"I love you," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "I always have."

Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you, his lips capturing yours. His hand slid from your waist to the small of your back, pulling you even closer, while his other hand cupped your cheek, his thumb gently brushing your skin.

You could feel his heartbeat through the closeness, and you melted into his embrace. Your hands instinctively reached up, one resting on his shoulder while the other gently tangled in his hair.

When you finally pulled away, you were both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other.

"I love you too, Sunghoon," you confessed, your voice trembling with happiness. "I always will."

[yeonzzzn]

everytime ; yang jungwon

pairing: drummer!jungwon x afab!reader word count: 2.2k synopsis: when jungwon and his bandmates are having a show in town, you can’t help but feel that magnetic pull towards him. warnings: swearing, suggestive content, kind of a bit angsty, jungwon and reader are toxic towards each other, wonnie is secretly down bad for reader, making out, finger sucking, reader licks won’s drumstick, MINORS DNI!!!!

You roll your eyes at his smirk, crossing your arms and facing away from him, staring at your best friend, “Out of all the things we could have done tonight, you chose this?!” 

She gives you a teasing smile, “What? Can’t handle seeing Jungwon?” 

As if the mention of his name could be heard from the crowd, Jungwon whistles out, clearly directing it to you. 

Some of Jungwon’s fangirls got their panties all wet and fanned their faces with their hands and giggled amongst themselves thinking that the whistle was for them. You groaned and rolled your eyes again, “I hate him and hate his fans even more.” 

Jungwon whistles again from the stage and you finally look at him, glaring. He continued his smirk at you, twirling his drumstick between his fingers, puckering his lips, sending you a kiss. 

You give him a fake smile and lift your middle finger at him, only for the corners of his lips to form in a smile, a small chuckle escaping his mouth as he looks down at his drum set. Jungwon loved the reactions he got out of you, mostly the reactions of pissing you off and being between your legs. 

It wasn’t always like this between the two of you, at least not at first. It was a random Friday night and your best friend dragged you out of your apartment and off to the club all because it was hosting a debut band's first showing. That’s how you met Jungwon. 

The moment you locked eyes with him from the front row, there was a spark that hit the both of you. Jungwon couldn’t keep his eyes off you and same to him for you. You found him breathtaking. Loved the crease of his dimple every time he smiled and was moved by the way he played the drums. He has such a talent and love for the instrument, you could see it in the way he played. With how the drumsticks beat against the drums and how he smiles and moves his body with each beat. He was born for music, it didn’t take a genius to see it. And after the show, Jungwon made it his mission to approach you and you both hit it off greatly. You danced close together all night and woke up beside him in his bed the next morning. You left his apartment that day with his phone number and the schedule for his band’s concerts and where they were playing. Your best friend also ended up hooking up with their guitarist, Jake. It seemed perfect, because you wouldn’t have to show up to these events alone and your best friend also would be potentially dating a band member too? How could it be passed up? 

Jungwon was perfect in every way, that was until…well…until he wasn’t. 

As time went on, the crowds grew bigger, the venues got bigger, and the more Jungwon stopped speaking to you. The everyday texting went to him only texting you only when he wanted to get his dick wet. You even had to get the information on their next shows from your friend. His attitude changed more and more as his follower count went up on Instagram. Jungwon showed his true colors and the next time you saw him, he had a flock of females in his arms, throwing out smirks, whistles, and blowing kisses your way as if to taunt you. 

And the rest is history. 

But every time you saw him, you still felt that magnetic pull. Every. Single. Time. He had a way of drawing you in, flirting with you, and trapping you in places you couldn’t escape, using any chance he could get to pin his body to yours. You have to admit, the sex is fantastic. It always left you giddy and folding like a fucking teenager. And that’s why you hate him so much. For making you feel things he doesn’t deserve to feel from you. 

And tonight wasn’t any different, except you’ve learned how to act like a bitch around him to conceal your deep-down feelings. The last you heard about Jungwon and his bandmates is that they went on tour. You forced yourself to not keep up and told your friend to keep all information to herself. So yeah, you had no idea they were even back in town, let alone playing at this club that started it all for them. 

Jake blew kisses out to your friend, her doing the stupid “grabbing” it and placing it to her heart. Honestly, it made you want to throw up, at how cute they are. You might be giving them the stink eye, but deep down you were truly happy for them. Jake never misses a chance to post her all over his socials. They were truly happy. 

“Hello, everyone,” Jay, their lead bass guitarist, smiled big, “It’s nice to be back in town after a tour!” 

The crowd cheered and you had to fight the urge to cup your hands over your ears. 

“You all ready for a fucking good time tonight?!?” Heeseung, the keyboard/pianist of the group, yelled into his mic, clapping his hands together. 

The crowd went batshit crazy. 

“Woah,” Jake smirked, leaning closer to his mic as he tuned his guitar, “That wasn’t loud enough, was it guys?” 

Sunghoon, their lead singer, leaned against Jake, bringing his mic close to his lips, “We sat, are YOU READY FOR A FUCKING GOOD TIME TONIGHT!?!” 

And the crowd went wild. Oooohh!!! Ahhh!!!

You felt like setting the venue on fire. 

“Jungwon,” Jay pointed at the drummer, “Set it off.” 

“Say less,” he smirked, lifting his arms above his head and slapping the drumsticks together four times, keeping direct eye contact with you until you finally looked away. 

You always loved their music, and tonight made you fall more in love with it. Even with all that love, the moment the concert ended and the lights came back on and the boys left the stage, you decided to take your leave, “I’m going to head out,” you said to your friend, preparing to dip before Jungwon could speak to you. 

“Nope!” she smiled, pulling two VIP badges from her bag, “You aren’t going anywhere!” 

You stared at her, confused as to why the fuck she thinks this is a good idea, “No.” 

She pouted, “YN, come on! It’s been a year!” 

Yeah, not long enough. 

“You know how I feel about this,” you cross your arms, hoping she’ll change her mind. 

But unfortunately for you, the badge was around your neck and you stood backstage with your nose scrunched being face to face with Jungwon. 

“I think your nose is broken,” he tapped the tip of his drumstick on your nose, “What is that sniffer smelling?” 

“You, obviously.” 

“I smell pretty great, don’t I?” 

You raised a brow, “If you consider shit good smelling, then maybe your sniffer is broken.” 

Jungwon laughed, “You never change.” 

You looked away from him, spotting your friend with Jake hand-in-hand as they smiled and made loving faces at each other. 

Jungwon stared off at them too, “I’m happy for them,” he whispered, twirling the drumstick, “They are good for each other.” 

You nodded, “They are good together.” 

Jungwon faced you, studying the curves and structures of your face, wanting nothing more than to reach out and touch you, but settled with, “Could be us,” in a teasing tone. 

You scoffed, tilting your head at him, “Why us? When you have a whole crowd of whores waiting for you to walk the floors of the club.” 

He smirked, sliding the tip of the drumstick against the side of your face, “Hmm, but weren’t you one of those whores at some point?” 

You pushed the drumstick away, “Fuck off, Won.” 

God he loved hearing his nickname from you fall out of your mouth, like it belongs there. 

“Such a dirty mouth,” he murmurs, once again touching the tip of the stick to your nose and moving downward, “What should we do about this mouth of yours?” 

He ran the stick to your bottom lip, pulling it down. The moment he saw the corners of your lips curl, he was done for. 

You push your tongue out, tasting the woody on your buds, and lick up, flatting your tongue against the drumstick the higher you get to the tip. Jungwon was fighting to not fold at this dirty act. His brain remembers the last time you went down on him and sent shivers down his spine. 

He didn’t even realize the soft moan that left his lips and jaw slightly slack until the noise came out. 

Jungwon might know how to tease you, but you sure as hell know how to play the game back. 

“Shit, YN,” he whispers, quickly pulling the stick off your tongue, “Don’t do that.” 

“Sorry, need me to go get one of your fangirls to do it instead of me?” 

Absolutely not. 

Jungwon chuckles, “Why do I need their mouths when yours is right here?” 

You roll your eyes, focusing them off towards the stage, “Still a fucking asshole.” 

Jungwon softened at those words. He hated himself more than you hate him. Hated himself so fucking badly for the shit he put you through. For letting the fame get to his head. For letting you go so easily and his actions that caused it. He remembers the night Jake busted down his door yelling at him because your friend called saying you were in tears because of his actions. It tore him apart. 

Truthfully, Jungwon was terrified to lose you. So scared you’d see his imperfections or how much he loved the attention his fans gave him that you’d run. You single-handedly were the best thing to walk into his life. He thinks about you every single day and wishes time machines were invented so he could go back and have a redo with you. 

But time machines don’t exist. And neither does his second chance with you. Jungwon accepted the only way he could have you was the hate sex or the aggressive make-out sessions when he saw you. Being on tour the last year was torture and he was one hundred percent sure you blocked his number and all his socials. 

Not that he blames you. 

“YN,” he calls for you, touching the tips of his fingers to your elbow, slowly wrapping them around your arm, “Please.” 

You knew what he was asking of you. To give in to him. And like an idiot, you leaned into his touch, giving in. 

Like a moth to a flame. 

Everytime. 

You go back to him everytime. 

It took one look into his brown eyes, seeing the feelings he has that he never speaks out loud. His hand finds yours, locking your fingers together and pulling you as he steps backward, you idly following behind him. 

You could feel your friend and Jake’s eyes following the both of you, along with Heeseung, Jay, and Sunghoon catching a glance as Jungwon pulls you out the back door, disregarding his drumsticks on a nearby table. 

One moment the cool night summer air hit your skin, the next you were straddling Jungwon in the back seat of his car. Lips moving against his and hands roaming up and down your back, squeezing your waist gently each time. 

A whole year without feeling you against him, a year without kissing you and he felt like was losing his mind. His body on fire just by having you pressed closely to him and your hands in his hair. Words stuck in his throat on all the things he wished he could say to you but settled with kissing you so deeply, tenderly, and passionately. The pull you always felt towards him, he also felt with you. Never being able to get away from you. 

Going back to you everytime. 

No one else was you. And never would be. 

Jungwon settles his hands on your hips, pressing you harder down on him and bucking his hips up. Your jaw went slack at the sensation of his length against your heat, Jungwon finding it the perfect moment to slide his index and middle fingers into your mouth, pressing down your tongue. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, wrapping your lips around his digits, “So dirty, baby,” he whispers, spreading the digits to feel your tongue move between them, “I’ve missed you so much.” 

He doesn’t know how the words managed to escape his mouth, but the soft moan that vibrated his fingers told him well enough you missed him too. Because you did, truthfully. 

The loss of his fingers leaving your mouth had you pouting, but his lips pressed back to yours, moving in perfect rhythm. You don’t know how much time has passed, how or when your clothes ended up in the front seat of his car, but you didn’t care. The warmth of his body, hands grazing your skin, and tongues dancing together were all that mattered. 

“Can I have you?” he whispers against your lips, never once taking what you didn’t want to give out. 

“Please, Wonnie,” you whisper back, “I need you.” 

And oh man, how badly he needed you. 

Neither of you would ever understand it, this pull towards each other. Or how whatever god keeps bringing you two back together. Never would understand truly how deep both your feelings run. 

But secretly, both you and Jungwon hope for a second chance. 

Everytime.

— tags: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @jwnghyuns

@in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi

@eneiyri @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty

@ladyartemesia @criminalyun @enhaverse713586 @wondipity @lhsvibez

@jaeyunq @rikizm @kaykay11sworld @vixialuvs @onlyhyunjin

@enha-cafe @ppanghoon @sunpov @zeeloveshee @hxxsxxng

@moonrisearies @brownsugarbaybee @nshmrarki @vveebee @teddybeartaetae

@kookify @abysofsteel @aileeeeeeeeeeeee @hee-lvrr @1309zip

@moon0fthenight @jakeflvrz @021894s @sendhelpiloveyeonjun @surrik-i

@heeseungsbm @niki-riki-nishimura-riki

[diorcities]

moon boy

pairing: haechan x fem!reader, afab!reader.

genre: fluff, smut.

content: breast groping, multiple orgasms, oral sex, breeding kink, unprotected sex, haechan overstim himself, lazy sex overall. enjoy !

an: hbd to my beloved @djxia0 ｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡

masterlist.

margaret atwood was right when she said «i exist in two places. here, and where you are» whenever your boyfriend was out of town. finding yourself looking for parallels of you in every romance. smelling fragrances that remind you of him. sounds. music. movies. books. overthinking. does he also remind you when he sees things? smiling for no reason other than your name showing up on his mind.

it's almost impossible not to look at him. his face calm, asleep peacefully beside you. the same hands that pinned you on the bed while making love to you after what felt like years away from each other, now lie lazily on your back, locking you in his chest, which slowly rises and falls. half-open fleshy lips, which make you want to kiss. a knot of limbs from the waist down.

you lose track of time. hours pass. minutes. or perhaps seconds until his eyes open, first waking up from his sleep, and then he watches you. he gives you a tired smile, before securing the grip and drawing you further towards him. “creepy woman,” he says, leaving a kiss on your forehead. “what you mean?” you ask, trying to play it cool. he hums. “you really have to love me to stare at me while i sleep.” little did you know that he did the same when you were sleeping a few minutes ago.

“i'm just afraid that someone will come and take you while i sleep.” he stops stretching his muscles to look at you, his hands caressing the skin on your arm. “i won't go anywhere.” haechan kisses you passionately, his lazy tongue playfully teasing yours. deepening the kiss as he hover over you, your hands go to his cheeks, while you melt at his caresses. feeling an entire galaxy explode within you. gently biting his puffy lips, trying to encapsulate the moment and make it infinite. he breaks the kiss and looks at you, searching for any other insecurity, but these have faded. “can you breathe with my weight on you?” he asks. nodding, you wish he knows that it's the only way to breathe you know.

your eyes move to the clock on the bedside table. he nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, spreading small kisses on your skin. you haven't dressed since the last time you made love. your skins touch each other unscrupulously, feeling each other's warmth. caressing each part already explored. knowing each other's favorite spots. tracing paths on his back, wide and soft, hearing him sigh with pleasure. “would like to eat now?” you ask after minutes of comfortable silence. he hums in agreement. “some pasta?” you suggest, feeling him shake his head. “what, then?.” he comes out of hiding, and looks at you. eyes gleaming and hinting something you don't take long to guess.

haechan smiles drowsily, before kissing you carefully. he leaves short, deep kisses on your lips, more and more sloppy, until he slides his mouth down your jaw and down. his head is lost under the covers, as he leaves a path of kissing to your crotch. you move the fabric away in one movement, wanting to get drunk from the view. “you look so heavenly right now, honey,” he states, watching your breathing increase. “let me have a taste of you, i bet you taste just like you look.”

a lash of pure euphoria invades you when his tongue licks your folds, before feeling it in your clitoris, rocking it up and down. silky. tasting you. when he hums with bliss on the exposed skin, it sends electrical currents to your senses. his hands hold your legs open while delighting in your taste, eventually going to your breasts, rubbing his thumb on your nipples and cupping them in his hands as his tongue twirl and lick you like a starved man. bobbing his head, and moving it from one side to another as he can't get enough of you. hands pulling his hair when he hits just where you want it. “there, hyuck...” you breathe, “there.” while blinking and moaning, letting him know how good he was eating you out. feeling your mind blurring, and your heart beating erratically.

you gasp for air. “oh, h-hyck,” he delights every time you pronounce his name. he swears it's the most beautiful sound in the world. your body shakes when he sucks gently, back arching and toe-curling, raising your legs on his shoulders, revealing a now reachable area that his tongue soon attacks. your hands make the sheets fists when the pleasure is unbearable, when your muscles tense and relax again as the sweet ecstasy bathes you whole. haechan enjoys the view of you, drinking your naked body and the few love marks he made in the previous encounters, before hovering over you. his weight is distributed in one hand next to your head, while his is buried in your neck.

you receive him by rubbing his back, pulling him to you, and leaving little kisses on his shoulders. his available hand caresses your hips and thighs, and his lips spread love in all the areas he can reach. he does it until he gets tired, and then, brushes his length at your entrance. your excitement causes it to slip into you with ease, gently. wanting to drink and feel every stimulus, every reaction of your bodies to coming together. “so pretty, moaning my name,” he praises you, “so fucked. shit, i'd love to breed you.”

“push it all inside,” you plead, aching for him. “so greedy.” you bring your hands to his butt and push him in. a high-pitched moan leaves his lips, as his length buries deeper in your pussy. a giggle full of pleasure runs through you that ends in a whimper. you bite your lip, wrapping your legs around his waist as he adjusts in the proper position before starting to penetrate you. he takes his pace, feeling you take him so well. he thinks he's going to lose his mind if you keep moaning like that. with slow, deep strokes that drives you crazy.

his hands seek yours, interlacing your fingers with his. lips going to lips. soft moans filling the air as he pumps you just right. legs trembling on either side of his hips, bringing him closer, causing him to grind against you, rocking his cock side to side, and up and down inside you, stimulating forgotten areas that make you twitch under his weight. he has always known how to find those spots, make you feel this good. possessing the perfect size to fill you, to light fireworks in your chest.

his moans are melody to your ears, caressing his hair, letting him use you as he pleases. hearing him struggle to keep the pace, because it's so hard when you're wailing in his ear and throbbing like that around his stimulated cock. no stamina left. both drained from past encounters. fucking each other senseless. yet not able to stop until you have the last essence of the other. until the sky runs out of stars.

haechan seeks your gaze. making eye contact, you bathe in the warmth of his brown eyes, like taking a shot of espresso on a rainy morning. like melted chocolate. as love would feel. burning and blooming inside out as the climax devours and leaves only quivers that shake your whole body. haechan curses. “where do you want it?” he wants to know. he holds it until you answer “inside.” resulting in spasms that shake his body as he releases inside you. filling you with his hot cum, until he empties himself. he keeps rocking his hips into you while pretty whimpers falls from his lips. even though you're still drunk from your high, you can't help but tighten the grip on his waist, and let him fuck you again. “fuck,” he says with a raspy moan.

he can't have enough of you. you both can't have enough of each other. and he's been far from you for so long, that your high arrives just by grinding into each other. your body quivers due to the euphoria draining you completely, while you sense haechan's legs trembling, “o-oh fuck, love.” yet he doesn't stop. when he gets up to lock eyes with you, you catch his face contracted in an unbearable look, with furrowed eyebrows and eyes glossy, thrusting you with a sloppy pace. his breathing, ragged and uneven, let out drawn-out groans. forehead creased and cheeks painted with the prettiest shade of pink. “you're so beautiful,” you whisper, “cum in me, hyuck.” you push him in with your hands, and it's the only thing that takes him to finally reach his climax.

you trap him in your embrace until his seed starts to come out of you along with your arousal, unwrapping your legs so he can slide out of you once he passes his high, resting his length on your stomach.

“give me a minute, baby, i physically can't move right now,” he states, dropping all his weight on you, nuzzling his nose in your neck. lips awkwardly leaving small, wet kisses. “just absorbing how good you felt.” his hand rubs circles on your thigh while he hums, melting under the caresses that your fingers leave on his scalp. a minute passes and haechan doesn't move. “hyuck, love,” you call his name softly, but there's no answer.

he has fallen asleep again.

[povlnfour]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ END UP HERE (LN4)

pairing: lando norris x f!reader

summary: a night out, a long walk home, and a pretty stranger happy to accompany you.

word count:

content warnings: mentions of alcohol/being tipsy, not proof read bc authors dyslexia won

“how did we end up talking in the first place?” — end up here, 5 seconds of summer

“do you even know who that is?” was the first thing your friend had said when she dragged you away from the group gathered around you by the bar.

of course you didn’t know the names and faces of the all people who scattered the club. all you knew was that this was one of the hottest places in monaco, and it’s guest list bolstered some giants of the motorsports world, a fact you were well aware of before agreeing to join your friends for the night. the group were ecstatic to have received a private invite to such an exclusive place from one of your more grander friends, the prospect of mingling with celebrities certainly playing on their minds — but you were more bothered about trying as many cocktails on the long menu that the place offered.

what you hadn’t expected was to be a point of attraction the moment you walked in. you knew you stood out in here, dressing nothing like the celebrities and trust fund babies you mixed with, but you certainly didn’t anticipate this drawing people towards you.

a man had approached you as you ordered a round for the small collection of friends you had come with, asking for your name. wanting to pay no mind to potential suitors, you told him trouble, before a sharp tug on your arm to drag you back towards the dance floor (drink now in hand) had you being reprimanded by your friend.

“am i meant to?” you hissed close to your best friend’s ear, straining to be heard over the baseline.

“you’re hopeless.” she had groaned, swiftly merging back in with the other girls in attendance. the group was growing with every hour, the alcohol running through people’s veins allowing for more socialising with strangers.

the music blared on, and you suddenly realised you weren’t half as drunk as you had intended to be. there was a nice buzz below your skin, one that danced through your fingertips and let you lower your guard on the dancefloor, but it was clear you’d remember everything in the morning (which wasn’t your initial intention).

with a swift glance around the room, you caught the eye of a handsome stranger. his face was recognisable, but not enough to put one of the aforementioned names to the sight. he was most likely another driver, as you recognised a few of his friends that milled to one side from the television.

the pretty stranger sent you a wink from where he lazed against a wall, your eyes grazing down his arms to the small glass of presumably whiskey he was nursing. you may have done something stupid, approached him on a whim, if it weren’t for your friend grabbing your arm once again and dragging you back into the action.

your bold decision had been interrupted, but it didn’t stop you from putting on a show. you were suddenly aware of the eyes following every move, ensuring that each roll of your hips was perfectly in his eyeline.

a few drinks more, and a lot of dancing later, people began to file out with each passing minute. one of the friends you had originally attended with left with a man she had met that night, another leaving to get food with a group you had met on the dancefloor, until it was just you and two others from the initial gang left. there were quite a few people fluttering around still, clearly determined to stay until doors closed.

you were tired by now, more than ready to call it a night despite the adrenaline still flowing through you. it was more that stage of just drunk enough that you could keep going if you wanted to, but sober enough to be somewhat responsible.

well, somewhat responsible.

when your remaining friends had expressed their interest in moving to a different club, you had politely declined the invite to join. it took some convincing that you’d be okay walking home to your apartment on your own, but once they were thoroughly convinced, they bid you adieu and left you alone.

alone, bar the presence of a certain handsome stranger still hovering in the guest area.

he was flanked by some of the same people from before, the crowd having dwindled enough that it no longer looked impenetrable. you recognised two of the men from the group who had approached you at the bar, confirming your suspicions the brunette from before was involved in racing one way or another. if you had half a sense, that information would have made you turn back and rethink your decision.

you were too far into your master plan now (also known as: not sober enough to make fully calculated decisions), and you knew what you wanted.

so with shoes noticeable tighter on your feet than they were at the beginning of the night, you took a heavy stride towards the collection of people chatting amongst themselves.

before you had even breached the small collection of chairs that held the strangers friends, they all seemed to notice your arrival and disperse as though commanded, leaving only you and your target. you barely had to look up to know his attention was all on you at the moment, and the alcohol in your system brought out an involuntary giggle at the thought of keeping him hanging all night.

“hello, trouble.” he spoke breezily, accent a lot more british than you were expecting.

“glad to know that got around.” you grinned, stopping just a foot ahead of him, distance close enough that he could touch if he really wanted to “wan’a keep calling me that, or should i put you out of your misery?”

the stranger was even more tanned up close, skin smooth and glowing under the club nights. his cheeks stretched with a smile under your attention, and you couldn’t help but mimic the action. “i could think of a few other things to call you, but your name would be nice”

“y/n.” you offered, taking the drink out of his hand and downing the remaining drop as a form of payment.

he laughed lowly, accepting the now empty glass back without batting an eyelid. “lando.”

“well, lando. it would appear all my friends are gone, and i have no one to walk me home,” you put on your best pout, jutting one hip out to the side to really emphasis just how distraught you were over the turn of events “care to do the honours?”

lando didn’t bother pretending to dwell it over, instead pushing himself off of the wall in one smooth action, and offering you an arm to lead. you took it gladly, expecting him to at least offer a goodbye to his friends. to your surprise, he did no such thing, leading you to an exit you certainly didn’t recognise.

when the fresh air hit you, your body relaxed in relief, entirely unaware just how stuffy the large yet crowded club had been for most of the night. the silence in the roads around your exit told you that lando had most likely guided you towards the back door of the club, a much easier escape into the main streets of monaco without the fear of the crowds. yet another sign he must be someone important. if you thought about it enough, you recognised his name from the world of motorsports, but you couldn’t entirely place him.

you didn’t care to ask for now, way too focused on tearing the heels off of your feet to feel the cold ground below. dangerous, yes, but well worth the relief you gained from the relief of release from such terrible choice in footwear.

glancing back at lando, you found him watching in amusement, leant against the doorframe with an eyebrow raised.

“i didn’t plan to be out this late.” you defended before he had even said anything.

lando raised his hands in a defence of his own “no judgement here. you were certainly putting in a shift on the dancefloor.”

humming, you began to step along the curb side that started your route home, passing lando a glance over your shoulder. “i knew you were watching.”

“yeah? putting on a show?” lando caught up with you despite your head start, probably made a lot easier by the fact you were practically pigeon stepping along the pavement, playing around with your own balancing skills. he was able to make up ground rather quickly.

the bars and casinos that littered the streets around you were still open and bustling, the bright lights of monaco all blurring together by now. you noticed a few cars go by, ones you didn’t recognise but could certainly admire, and it seemed your new friend was doing the same.

“yup!” you exclaimed, pointing down a street that held some of the now closed cafes “this way.”

lando turned easily, his hand coming up to rest on your waist as the stones dug into your heels and you stumbled as a result. you steadied yourself with a determined got it, but weren’t deterred at all — if you wanted to walk like this, you were going to walk like this!

… a thought that only lasted a few more seconds as you got fed up of such a slow pace. you took to skipping instead, hopping slightly in front of lando and turning to face him. you could see the amusement on his face mix with a certain fear, most likely over the fact you weren’t looking where you were going. you swung the hand up with your heels in it as you spoke again, narrowly missing hitting yourself in the face. “i like your shirt!”

lando laughed, quickening his pace to close the gap, and gently engulfing your hand in both of his. you were just about to ask him what he was doing when he cleverly dislodged your heels from your grip and took them himself. you would have pouted, poked fun at him not wanting to hold your hand, had he not slipped his spare one into yours, pulling both of your arms back to your side and leading you down the roadside facing the right way this time.

“boo,” you shoved at his shoulder ever so slightly “i thought you’d be more fun than this mr. lando.”

like anyone would with a petulant child, lando grinned and pushed you away, pulling you back suddenly via your fingers that were intertwined. the action made you squeal, gripping on to his shoulder when you returned to his side. you frowned at him, no real weight in the action, but it was worth it for the reaction when he poked the tip of your nose with a wide smile.

“you’re certainly living up to your nickname, trouble.” he added, and you began to swing your conjoined hands between your bodies, a pep in your step that he happily mimicked.

you giggled, pulling yourself back to briefly bury your face in the crook of his neck, cheeks heating up at the memory of what you had done tonight. “i’m so sorry to your friend who i entirely pied at the bar.”

lando laughed again, this time full bellied and hearty. you could feel him shaking his head in amusement, glancing up from where you hid your face to find him already smiling at you. “don’t be. george needs humbling.”

you stopped walking suddenly, face gone pale as you realised who that man had been, and why your friend was so shocked. lando got the memo, stopping in concern and prepared to help you out of any hypothetical crisis. “please do not tell me i told george russell my name was trouble, and ditched him at the bar.”

there was a beat of silence for just a second, lando keeping his composure, before he suddenly doubled over in violent shakes of laughter. you whined in instinct, pleading with him that it wasn’t that funny, but eventually humour won and you joined him in his joy.

“oh my god my friends are never going to let me live this down!” you shouted, leaning on his hunched over body for support.

you were getting a few looks from passersby, probably confused at to why two young people were practically keeled over in the middle of the busy streets in the early hours of the morning. it was funny, really, you hadn’t even noticed just how busy the streets around you actually were as others made their way home. you had been so transfixed on the man beside you for most of it.

“that’s— oh my god i’m not letting him live this down.” lando chuckled, slowly gaining his composure once more as he straightened up. you didn’t miss the way he had to wipe tears from his eyes, and you thought briefly you wouldn’t mind making him laugh like that again.

“well, now i’ve embarrassed myself thoroughly…” you began, lando grinning as he smoothly linked your hands back together and continued the route down the road, counting on you for guidance as to the direction of where you were staying.

you hummed to yourself as you kept walking, a tune that you had heard in passing at the club that night. lando recognised it almost instantly, head turning to look at you with a raised eyebrow “bon jovi?”

you smacked your lips together “is that who is by? i only know like three lyrics. something about living on a prayer.”

“that’s the one.” he smiled again, and you couldn’t help but notice the slight tooth gap that made his grin so adorable.

whilst this wasn’t the way you had initially seen your night going, you wouldn’t complain about being looked at like that. it was surprisingly easy to talk to the man, despite his obvious status and the fact that he was most likely famous. he hasn’t made you feel out of place, and it made you want the night to keep going.

so when you stopped in front of your hotel, building towering over you, there was a surprising ache in your chest that this could be it.

“well, this is me.”

lando looked just as disappointed as you, clearly hoping the jaunt would be longer. he didn’t fret, simply offering to walk you inside so that he could be sure you got in safe. you both knew he could simply watch you walk through the doors and be fine — what with the establishments security and all — but it was clear neither wanted the journey to end just yet.

you accepted, not one to turn down more time spent with a pretty person, and it was only when you called the elevator that you began to say your goodbyes.

“well, thank you for, uh, walking me home.” you shuffled, watching as the numbers decreased on the led screen to indicate the lift was getting closer.

“thank you for making my boring night a lot more interesting.” lando retaliated, hands slipped in the pockets of his jeans to feign nonchalance.

the telltale ding of the elevator doors opening made your heart drop. perhaps it was the remaining alcohol in your system despite how much you had sobered up by now, but a certain bravery was lingering.

“i’m gonna wonder where this boldness came from in the morning.” you started, barely registering the confused expression on lando’s face before you pulled him down and crashed your lips together.

lando reacted instantly, hands wrapping around your waist as your own tangled in the curls at the bottom of your neck. the heels he held in one hand collided with your body at the impact but you paid them no mind as he confidently walked you back into the elevator until your back was pressed against the large mirror. he wasted no time in pushing your bodies together, using his strength to tug your waist against his as he reluctantly broke the kiss, still remaining close enough to whisper against your skin, “what floor?”

“seven.” you responded, kissing him again within milliseconds of finishing. you could feel his hands fumbling around on the buttons, helplessly searching for your floor without turning his head before the doors closed and you were finally away from the prying eyes in reception. you had certainly given security a show.

that would be an embarrassment for the morning, for now you were significantly more focused on the way lando’s hands traced the curve of your ass. he gave a firm squeeze that had you gasping into his mouth, an action he took perfect advantage of.

any vertigo the elevator moving upwards may have brought you was grounded by the firm hold on your body and the tongue slipping into your mouth. he tasted vaguely of whiskey, dulled throughout the night, and you found yourself getting addicted to the feeling of his mouth of yours. you may have done something more scandalous right then and there had the lift not drawn to a stop and the doors beeped open.

the two of you turned, being met with a giant FLOOR 8 ahead of you — and that was when you lost in once more.

leaning on lando, you couldn’t help the uncontrollable giggles that slipped from your mouth as he selected the correct floor this time.

“in my defence, i was preoccupied.”

a/n: hello pals

i realise only now how similar this is to overdrive but,,, forgive me i wrote it in a meeting

me vs characters meeting lando on a night out and being obsessed immediately >>>

i also: heavily dislike this it just felt rushed so any comments appreciated as author is suffering. battling with my dyslexia every two seconds writing this

- gigi xx

taglist (found here): @idkiwantchocolatee @vellicora @alessioayla @bborra @crimeshowjunkie @paolexsstuff @champagnelovers101 @loxbbg @hobiismyhopeu @moonypixel @celestialpato @champagneproblems17 @ironmaiden1313

[evergone]

Misunderstandings

Ominis Gaunt x Reader (Jane Austen inspired)

Warnings: some angst, drinking.

Description: Ominis and the reader broke each other's hearts as teenagers. When they meet again as adults, the reader disguises herself as Natsai's cousin and they fall in love all over again.

Shoo-ing your friends away and promising each of them that you would not be long, you sat down in a quieter room adjacent to the ballroom to catch your breath. If you had to dance with one more minister or minister’s son you may well have danced yourself to death. You held your fan to your breast and fluttered it rapidly in the hopes to find some cool air in the cramped heat of the Minister for Magic’s yearly ball.

You reached for a glass of white wine from a passing server and allowed yourself the mercy of a long sip unfit for a gentlewoman of your blood. The glass came from your lips with a grateful and exhausted sigh as you turned into the table you were at and placed down your fan.

A man was sitting on the other side of the table with a distant look. His hair was bright, his skin fair, and when you attempted to catch his gaze (a fruitless action) you noticed his eyes were a cloudy sort of grey-white. He was sitting in bored silence beside a brunet man far too engaged in conversation with a woman in purple to notice his poor companion was nearly falling asleep.

“Sir, are you quite alright?” You inquired over the music being played by the young lady behind the pianoforte.

The man’s grey eyes searched for your face in vain, never landing and just moving quickly around your general space. It was an action that seemed quite familiar, and suddenly you recognised the man as Ominis Gaunt. During your Hogwarts days he had been one of your closest friends, and the object of your affection. You had ended your friendship on bad terms, and had your heart broken. On realising this, you were frozen with terror.

“Please, I suffer from blindness, my apologies that I cannot look at you when you speak to me,” said Ominis and you managed to squeak out a soft acceptance of these apologies, “This ball must be wonderful, but with my companion occupied there is not much for me to do. Never mind me, though — How is your night, Miss…?”

“Onai!” You lied, using your dear friend’s name to mask yourself from him, “I am Miss Onai.”

“As in Natsai Onai? Your voice is familiar, but I did not think…”

“Oh! She is my cousin,” you cringed as you said it, but anything to draw suspicion away from you, so you thought up the first Shona name you could think of and used that instead of your real name, “I am Tsitsi Onai. Natsai’s father’s brother’s daughter.”

Ominis’ brow creased with a frown, but he accepted her word as truth and you let some tension release from your shoulders. A quick glance to his side, and you gathered that his companion must have been Sebastian Sallow, a man whose sight was not so impaired that he could have mistaken you so easily for someone else. His presence was a danger to your lie.

“Well, I really must be going, sir,” you said as pleasantly as possible through the stress, then you stood up.

To your dismay, Ominis rose, too. It was manners and respect, is all, or at least that is what you tried to assure yourself as he circled the table to be slightly closer to you.

“You remind me so much of an old friend of mine,” he said, “Please, would you do me the honour of a dance?”

He held his hand out towards the direction of the music leaking in from the ballroom and you cursed good etiquette for forcing women to dance with every man who asked, and then you cursed yourself for ever leaving the floor in the first place. You obliged his request, and led him into the ballroom by slightly tugging at the cuff of his sleeve. He had not even bothered to tell Sebastian where he was going, and your heart panged with concern that they would never find each other again and you would end up stuck caring for Ominis until the end of the night.

The music slowed slightly as you reached the ballroom floor and his hands took their dutiful places. Dancing in itself was not a sensual touch, but even so, he touched you with such delicacy, such gentility, that you could not help but wish his hand was slightly firmer. It seemed it was not him touching you, but his shadow. Had he known who you were you would have teased him, and elbowed his hand until it was gripping at your waist as if you were the only thing stopping him from falling from a great height.

As you began to dance, conversation flowed somewhat freely. So far from anyone you knew, there was no fear of being exposed to him. You would enjoy yourself, you decided.

“You know my name, sir, but what is yours?” You asked, and he introduced himself, “I think Natty has spoken of you.”

“Goodness, you must tell me what she has said. If I have reflected poorly, I would be mortified,” he said with a flustered blush on his nose.

“Either she has not spoken at length, or I do not listen to her enough to remember anything of import. You must tell me of yourself so that I might build my own judgement,” you smiled.

“Truly, there is not much to tell,” he said modestly, “I was educated at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (this is how I know your cousin), and I am apprenticing to be a barrister currently.”

“And what of your hobbies? Do you fancy gardening? Music? A good game of whist?” You said.

“Recently, I have become a fan of the opera,” he explained, “My companion, Mr. Sallow, is learning Italian, so we saw Otello in London and he translated as best he could. I have seen the play, so I understood what he did not, and I much enjoyed it.”

“Molto bene! I love the opera!” You nearly grinned with excitement. “I am no enjoyer of Otello — It is regrettably muggle in its racial concerns… But I saw Faust in Paris and it was wonderful!” He nodded along as you spoke, hanging on to every word that left your mouth. “I think that performance is the magic of muggles.”

“How incredibly insightful, Miss Onai,” he said thoughtfully and you blushed, “I must agree. Wizards can perform, certainly, but we do not know art like they do.”

Soon after, the dance ended. You and Ominis exchanged bows, and you politely led him back to Sebastian. You left with a quick good-bye without much decorum at all so as to avoid being seen, but not before you gave him the address of the townhouse you were staying at with your “cousin” and friends. What did you intend to gain by giving him the address? Of this, you were not completely sure. But somewhere in the back of your mind, you hoped he would call on you.

The next day, Ominis awoke with three things: a start, a headache, and a realisation. The first of these things made him gasp and place a hand on his chest, the second made him groan and order his house elf to fetch him some water, and the third made him drop his water all over himself and run into Sebastian’s room without any warning at all.

The poor brunet squinted as his friend drew back the curtains and let the sun pound in through the window. There was no clock in his room, but Sebastian could tell it was much too early for him to be awake. He voiced this complaint, but Ominis cared not, so Sebastian dropped back into his pillows and let his friend speak.

“My good man, I think I fell in love last night,” he said with wide, unseeing eyes.

This made Sebastian sit up again, this time with a curious raised eyebrow.

“Ominis,” he started, “For the last — What? Three years? — For the last three years, you have been whining about how Y/n L/n from school broke your heart. I have not heard a man so adamantly declare that he would be a bachelor for life as you. Yet, today, on this eighteenth of April, you tell me you have fallen in love!”

There was a sense of disbelief in Sebastian’s speech that made Ominis sigh deeply. He sat down on the edge of Sebastian’s mattress, and tried his best to stare him seriously in the eye (Sebastian laughed at this, grabbed Ominis’ head, and positioned it correctly).

“She was just like Y/n,” said Ominis.

Sebastian rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, knowing he was safe from being seen, but Ominis felt the movement in the air and slapped Sebastian’s arm in annoyance. Sebastian hissed and slapped Ominis back. They were as immature in adulthood as they had once been as boys.

“Well, then it was good it was just one night!” Sebastian frowned.

“I have her address,” Ominis admitted in a state of pure bliss and Sebastian threw up his arms in defeat, “I am going to call on her.”

“Do not call on her!” His nose was scrunched up in disgust.

“You should have heard her talk, Sebastian! I was so entranced that I thought she was Y/n. She sounded exactly like her,” Ominis said.

“Are you sure it was not the ghost of loves past?” Sebastian teased, “Should we be on watch for a jolly bearded giant now? And what after that? The phantom of loves yet-to-come?”

“Do not jest,” Ominis scoffed, “This woman is a needle and thread. She has sewn my heart back together.”

“And what is this seamstress’ name?”

“She is cousin to Natsai Onai, her name is Tsitsi. Is not it as beautiful as she?” Ominis mused lovingly.

“I have not seen her, so I cannot attest to her beauty,” Sebastian said, unconvinced, “In fact, you have not even seen her.”

Meanwhile, in your townhouse, you were anxiously pacing in the parlour. You had been awake since you arrived home, the jitters not offering you a minute of sleep. One of your house elves, the first to wake, had found you writing in your diary in the earliest hour of the morning and suggested you take a bath and get ready for the day in a well-meaning, but ultimately unsuccessful attempt to calm you down.

Finally, Natsai, Poppy, and Imelda awoke, and the house elf ushered them into the parlour as quickly as they were dressed. Imelda carried a cup of tea in with her, a scowl already plaguing her otherwise handsome countenance. Natsai and Poppy, on the other hand, wore looks that only read as confusion.

“Have you not slept, my darling?” Natsai asked and you shook your head vehemently.

“Oh, dear! Y/n, go to bed, please! You cannot go about your life exhausted,” Poppy said, placing a hand on your back as she tried to lead you to your room.

“Girls, I am not tired,” you said and sat Poppy down on the couch, “I have the most exhilarating, horrible, interesting, wild information to share with you about my time at the ball last night.”

This made Imelda’s ears perk up and her scowl softened slightly.

“I danced with Ominis Gaunt.”

“What?” Imelda gasped, placing her tea in her lap, “And you did not immediately tell me this in the carriage home?”

“I was far too flustered to speak about it then, Imelda!” You exclaimed, “He did not know it was me.”

“How did he not know? He may be blind, but he is not stupid — nor is he deaf, he must have recognised your voice at least,” said Imelda.

“I disguised myself as Natsai’s cousin, Tsitsi—”

“— I have no cousin Tsitsi,” Natsai interrupted.

“Well, you do now, and it is I,” you said firmly.

“How did you fool Mr. Sallow? I assume Mr. Sallow was with him?” Poppy asked, her attention entirely encapsulated by the scandal of the conversation.

“Nay,” you replied, “He did not see me. I fear I have trapped myself in a terrible lie, for I have yet again fallen in love with Ominis and know not how to tell him.”

“Yet again?” Imelda cackled, “You never fell out of love with him, Y/n. This is a continuation of love!”

“This conversation is all for naught,” Natsai said matter-of-factly, “He does not know it was you, he does not know where you live, so you will not see him again. Do not forget how he broke your heart, Y/n. Do not allow him to take hold of it once more.”

“Natsai,” you said gravely and she frowned in concern, “I told him our address.”

Natsai scoffed in a mixture of disgust and disbelief, and circled to the back of the couch so she could stare at the wall behind it instead of at your face which appeared to her in that moment as the face of a traitor to your own emotions. She could not fathom how you could be so easily deceived by your own heart (the very same heart which had not three years earlier been torn to shreds) to fall once again in love with Ominis Gaunt.

Had you forgotten how he betrayed you? How he strung you along for years like a guitar stuck playing a sad song? Had you forgotten how you ran to her in tears? To Natsai, it was only yesterday that she held you in her arms as you wailed that he was leaving you.

“I will not watch you carry the pieces of your heart back to him,” she said in a stern tone.

“My heart rebuilt itself the moment I saw him,” you told her.

She opened her mouth to say something more, but there was a knock at the door that made all four of you go silent. Your eyes made contact with Natsai’s first, but then moved over to Imelda’s as she shouted for one of the house elves to go see who was there. A little elf scrambled to the door and you faintly heard her talking to someone before she returned.

“There is a gentleman here for Tsitsi Onai,” said the house elf.

The frown on Natsai’s brow deepened, but you ignored her and went to the entryway. Ominis stood there in his day attire, fiddling with his cravat like he used to do with his tie at Hogwarts. He looked absolutely spectacular. Beside him was Sebastian, who stared at you as if he had seen a ghost, and then quite loudly announced your name, exposing you to Ominis.

“Ominis,” you said and his brows furrowed as he put two-and-two together.

You and Ominis were given space in the study while the girls entertained Sebastian in the parlour. The silence in the room was so quiet and all-encompassing that it seemed to make the room sharp and cold. Ominis was seated on the big leather chair while you leant against the desk with your hands folded in your lap.

“You lied to me,” he said finally.

“I was scared,” you admitted, “We did not leave on good terms. And to be truthful, I tried my best to escape you last night, but good manners kept me shackled to you.”

“Shackled?” he scoffed, “Well, I apologise that you had such a horrible time with me.”

“It is just like you to take that personally,” you rolled your eyes, “You had the blessing of ignorance, but I had to pretend as though everything was fine. As though I was not dancing and conversing with a man who could not care less about me.”

“It was not I who destroyed our bond,” said Ominis.

At that, you laughed loudly and sarcastically. You could not think anything but pure rage at his audacity.

“It was not I who invited you to the most romantic night of your life just to tell you that I was moving hundreds of kilometres away,” you said with venom on your tongue.

“I was going to propose to you that night!” Ominis’ voice raised and he stood up so he was facing down at you, “You kept asking me if I had some lint in my pants because I would not cease shoving my hand into my pocket — the ring was in there! And I thought that if you loved me you would ask me to stay.”

“I do love you! That is why I could not ask you to give up your career for me!” You shouted at him, your arms thrown wildly to the side, and tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

All time stopped. It did that excruciatingly painful thing where it drew itself out like a rubber band so that one second became one minute and one minute became one hour and one hour became a whole day. And then, once it felt like a week had passed, time started again, and you were right where you left off — attempting to breathe through your sobs so that the blind man in front of you could not hear you crying, even though you could see the tears on his cheeks.

“You love me?” Ominis asked.

“You were going to propose to me?” You said.

[mci-writing]

My Life is Like a TeamStarkid Play, But Less Terrifying (Rise!Leonardo x Fem!Reader) 1/???

A/n: Hi. Just gonna preface a little with a general note that the reader is part alien. It is an integral part of the story for later and it will be brought up quite a bit. Just based on past tmnt iterations and their relation to aliens and space which Rise lacked up until the movie (and, even then, still lacked). The two songs used here are both from The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals: What Do You Want, Paul? and La Dee Dah Dah-Day respectively. I recommend listening to them so the flow of the scene sets a little better. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: language use, sexual references, musicals, some dark humor but like tastefully in a theater kinda way, this series is very reader-centric Word Count: 5.4k Kofi

Part 2

Fingers anxiously tap, tap, tap at a bedazzled binder, the label, ‘PLAY IDEAS’, is peeling at the corners. Teeth nervously nibble at the dry skin on the bottom of the owner’s lip, stopping when she inevitably draws blood again.  

“If you keep gnawing away at your lip like that, you won’t have one left,” The voice next to her spooks her out of her trance, a soft gasp leaving her lips as she straightens. (Y/n)’s face quickly drops as Leo pokes her cheek, her (e/c) eyes meeting his shit-eating grin. The accompanying red-eared slider happily slides into the metal chair beside her, arms resting on the backs of the chairs beside him, “You’re worrying too much, senora. Your drama teacher would be insane not to use any of the spicy ideas brewing in that mind of yours.”

“I wouldn’t say spicy…” (E/c) eyes slide down to the binder between her fingers only for it to be snatched by three long and slender, green fingers. They follow to a smirking Leo, the mischievous glint in his eyes sparkling a little brighter as he shakes it to and fro, which he stops at the slight sound of a paper plausibly tearing, “Though, I won’t get to share them if you mess them up, Leon.”

He purses his lips, blowing through them and making that weird horse whining noise, as he sets it in his lap and flips through the pages (which all luckily seem intact, thank fuck). He stops occasionally to analyze a few, his exaggerated faces giving her no true hint of what he’s thinking. His humming with each page doesn’t help.

It’s not like the pages are anything special or filled with over-the-top, never done before ideas, but they at least provide an idea of where to take whichever play they decide to pick for the semester. It’s filled with mainstream big plays, with hopes that the big names will draw more of the student body to join, and plausible proposed budgets that the school’s faculty would easily agree with (going off of her mother’s industry metrics-). There were also margins and pages filled with mathematical equations estimating probable costs that only Donnie or a very determined and a little too excited drama student director would notice. Leo is more than positive they teamed up on it in some way.

He lingers on a few pages, which she assumes to be the more eye-catching ones or the few musicals he actually knows (courtesy of the girl next to him). She doesn’t miss him quickly moving past the big number pages and extra gibberish that only those in “the business” would understand. It’s a rare instance of him being completely silent as he analyzes the pages. It only heightens (Y/n)’s worries about the quality, but she distracts herself as she moves her (e/c) irises to linger on other details and aspects presented to her at this moment.

A good bit of his features are obscured by his admiral blue winter hat and matching sweater while his jacket hangs over her chair (she isn’t sure when he managed to put it there). Not even the most perceptive of people would pick up on the exposed parts of his face being reptilian shades of green in his current getup. Then again, she’s more than positive the turtles could very easily pass as people when they cover their shells (something she has bared witness to so often), especially in the melting pot of NYC. She does miss his crescent moons, hidden away by the felt of his hat, but it’s a small price to pay to avoid lingering questions. Without the shit-eating grin, his face is mischievous enough that you would assume he’s always up to something, which isn’t necessarily an off assumption, but (Y/n) just knows when the wheels in his brain are turning from years of experience.

“Alright, done!” (Y/n) doesn’t realize how close she is until his head turns to face her, the two mere inches apart from each other as opposed to the slightly bigger distance they had. It definitely throws her off a little, but Leo remains unphased as he continues, “Looking through this thing only proved my point further. You possess the sauce-”

“The sauce?” (Y/n) asks with a tilt of her head, somehow managing to take the binder back into her arms and holding it close to her chest, “What the hell is the sauce?”

“I have no idea! But Mikey’s used it enough times for me to confidently say that you have got it, whatever it is! Mama Celeste will be so proud, (N/n),” She’s now 100% sure he mistook Mike’s cooking speeches as some new lingo, but she’s not allowed to dwell on that for too long as she hears the voice of her drama teacher calling her to his office, “That’s your cue. Go get ‘em, tiger.”

She stands to her feet, taking a deep breath as she turns her attention to the office. She stares for a moment, feeling the nervousness creep up her spine as the binder in her hands gains thousands of pounds. With a shaky step forward, the deep pit in her stomach reminds her of literally everything hanging on her gaudily designed book. Of course, any other time she’d be reminding herself that any of the musicals they choose is alright and that any of her ideas being turned down isn’t the end of the world, but she can only focus on the fact that this is her senior year and anything going wrong feels like the end of the world to her. 

She feels dizzy in worry, her throat going uncomfortably dry. Her breathing slows and, to any party outside her mind, she looks like a deer in headlights as she stands staring at the door. Her heart rattles in her chest-

“Heey, Mamacita! Chill out,” Green fingers settle themselves on (Y/n)’s shoulder, tugging her into Leo’s chest as a reassuring grin graces his features. Their cheeks touch as he stares straight towards the door, his fingers on his other hand softly gripping her chin and keeping her eyes on the door, “You know all the business insider secrets because of your mom. Don’t let them go to waste. Ya’ve got this, (N/n). Go in there and rock it like you know how.”

His words actually manage to calm her, her breathing evening back out as she slowly regains her confidence. The small feeling of nausea remains but is slightly tolerable now.

“Plus, as much as I love the laser light show idea for The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals, Hadestown will probably be a hands-down legend for this school with the right vocal lessons. But that’s just me.” Annnd now she knows his biases from her creative selections, “Knock ‘em dead, tigresa!”

He gives her a light push through the door, leading to her stumbling and falling on her ass in front of her teacher. He doesn’t pay her much mind, barely looking up from his paperwork. 

“Ms. Brown. Good evening,” He gives her a bit of a hand wave before finally looking up, “Ready to discuss this semester’s play?”

“Yes, Mr. Sherma” She quickly stands to her feet, suddenly very self-conscious of her grotesquely decorated binder as she holds it to her chest, “Yes, I am. And, this time, I brought an idea book to explain my ideas a little better!”

He holds his hand out for it, delicately handling it as he brings it to lay on his desk. His fingers are nimbler than Leo’s as they open the pages, flipping through them with careful precision. His eyes linger longer, the scene playing out similarly to earlier.

He occasionally brushes the parts of his brown hair back, his eyes, tired but curious, scanning each and every detail. She’s reminded of some of her classmates joking about him looking like a Renaissance version of a particular Twitch streamer.

The only time it’s obvious which ones he’s interested in is when he looks over the proposed budget pages a bit longer than others. He hums and mumbles, not shy from making noises of displeasure at certain pages. She’s pretty positive she hears him mumble ‘cringe’ at some point.

(Y/n) awkwardly sits in one of the many chairs in his office, her fingers lightly tapping against her knees while her feet make little kicks. Her brown orbs glance around the room when she feels she’s been looking for too long. Various awards line the walls, some for students whose names she recognizes and others she’s maybe heard in passing. She recognizes a few of her own, not fighting the small smile that comes to her lips at the acknowledgment of her work of the past few years. The walls are also decorated with pictures throughout the years of performances and practices past as well as the occasional goofy memory, some a little hard to make out with the dying light of the assorted lamps.

“This… idea binder is full of interesting ideas, Ms. Brown, but they don’t tell me what you specifically want to do,” Mr. Sherma sighs as he closes it. His blue eyes meet her brown ones, an intensity behind them that she can’t read, “Each page has a lot of detail and potential, but none scream with desperate want, you know?”

She grows nervous, feeling herself start to sweat under his gaze. She tosses his words around in her mind, but it doesn’t make it much clearer, “What do you mean by that, sir?”

“What do you want, Brown? Tell me what you desire to see. Your deepest intent, Brown,” She feels herself flinch when he suddenly stands, her back pressing deep into the chair as he leans forward and sings at her. She never knows what to expect from her drama teacher, but the operatic sounds that leave his mouth aren’t it, “What do you see for this production? I’m looking for someone with strong ambition, someone to sell their specific vision, someone to share with precise precision their thoughts. ‘Cause I want you to want… To want!”

She’s thrown off further once he begins walking around his desk. He stops once he reaches the front, comfortably leaning against the mahogany with little disregard for its old and thin nature. He crosses his arms over his chest as he stops, looking down at her, “So what do you want, Ms. Brown? What’s the one concrete goal that motivates all your actions?”

(Y/n)’s lost at his sudden questions, her head naturally tilting as she stares back at his determined gaze with equal confusion. Her face scrunches up, eyebrow lifting. He doesn’t elaborate, again, so she doesn’t even know how to begin to unpack all of what he’s pushing for.

“I don’t think I have one of those?” She finally manages to wrangle up, giving her teacher another one of her nervous, closed-eye smiles.

He remains quiet for a moment, staring her down for a bit. She opens her eyes once she realizes he hasn’t said anything, awkwardly maintaining eye contact as he doesn’t exchange immediate words. She can feel a grimace starting to form while his face remains stony.

“Well, then, how’s anyone supposed to sympathize with you, Ms. Brown?”

“Huh? I don’t know…” Her mouth gapes open at that, but she quickly closes it to think of literally anything she could plausibly list. Most of her current goals involve catching criminals and living to make another day? Understanding her powers a little better and maybe her family heritage some? But those aren’t necessarily things many of her peers could relate to and sympathize with, at least, not in the way she has to deal with her goals. She thinks hard about some common goals that most high schoolers have, “I want what anyone wants…?” She thinks really, really hard, “Money, a partner? Kids, someday, maybe?”

Mr. Sherma nods his head at that, turning to face his desk. (Y/n) relaxes a bit, thinking that maybe, just maybe, that would be the end of it-

HE JUMPED ON THE DESK?!?!

“What the fuck?!”

“I want you to want, Brown! A girl so vague just can’t be trusted! Something you pine for, maybe someone who keeps you lusted.  I’m just a boss, I’m not an idea guy! I hire you kids to keep our plays ripe. But if you can’t pin the point that’s in the skyyyyy!” 

He starts to dance with ease, ignoring the resistance of his desk’s legs as he does a smooth spin in the middle of the surface. His footwork is delicate, fancy, even. (Y/n) finds it hard to even focus on what’s being sung at her as her eyes glide behind his movements. He stops in the center, sliding to his knees and pointing his right index finger in her direction while his left-hand rests on his chest “Then I want you to want, to want!”

“Sir?!” She can’t fight the laugh in her tone as she calls out, equally amused and heavily confused at this turn of events. She literally can not pinpoint why in the known universe he is singing at her, especially this song of all things, but she can’t lie and say she isn’t severely entertained.

“D’you know what I want for myself? I’ve waited for so lo-ong to tell somebody else,” His tone drops, becoming more somber as he manages to rhythmically set himself down from his desk. He grabs the picture of his wife off his desk, his head tilting as a fond look comes to his eyes, “Carol, my wife, you’re my muse, my source of light. Carol, my love, I want you to choke me out at night…” He plops himself down into his chair, longingly staring at the photograph of his wife, “I want you to choke me… I want you to choke me… I want you to choke me while I jerk off… I want you to choke me while I… jerk off.”

(Y/n) sits up at those words, a discomfort settling in the pits of her stomach and sinking further down. She doesn’t fight down the look of shock in her eyes at the admission, nor is she able to stop the noise of confusion she makes, “Um, sir-,”

Without missing a beat, Mr. Sherma presses the call button on his office phone, the beep loudly sounding through his small office. He leans over, a dazed look in his eyes as he stares forward, “Melissa, get my wife on the phone for me.”

(Y/n) quickly gathers her bags, reaching for her idea binder, “Mr. Sherma, I think I should leave-,”

“No, (Y/n), I want you to hear this,” He tugs the binder closer to him, not sparing her a glance as he adds, “If you leave, you’re fired.” 

It rings a bit before Mrs. Sherma answers, “Carol! Yes, everything’s fine, I promise. I just wanted to tell you something…,” He freezes, his dazed expression growing horrified as he stares forward, past the expansion of the messily decorated walls of his office into the inner turmoil of his request weighing on him, “I, uh, I forgot what it was… Maybe someday I’ll remember. Goodbye…”

It remains quiet after that. (Y/n)’s gaze remains downtrodden as she contemplates and processes how she was thoroughly traumatized by the shame of her drama teacher, but also not surprised by his antics. Mr. Sherma, however, was mentally suffering with his inability to tell his wife his deepest desires…

She looks up in time for her (e/c) pools to meet with despair-ridden shades of blue, the latter widening as Mr. Sherma rises to his feet and dances around his desk.

“Ms. Brown, now you know what it is to want!”

“I want to go home!” 

“It consumes a man with a passion to drive the primary plot,” His verses speed up as he ignores her pleas, “So take up yoga or improv classes. Volunteer at shelters or twitch to the masses.”

(Y/n) takes her gathered bags while he’s distracted.

“There’s gotta be something to keep my hands off you. Off youuu”

She manages to slip around him and grab her binder, holding it close to her chest.

“‘Cause I want you to want!”

“I’m gonna get some… coffee? Do you want anything?” (Y/n) manages to ease to the door, her hand struggling to get a good grip on the door.

“No, I need you to want!”

“How about an iced caramel frappe? Nothing better-,” The door magically opens for her just as her hand gets a good grip on the door. It drags her forward, causing her to lose her balance.

“And if you don’t want…” He freezes, taking a deep breath before releasing the highest note he’s hit that (Y/n) has ever known him to, “We’re throughhh.”

A soft donk sounds as her forehead meets a hard plastron. Scaly, strong arms wrap around her waist, holding her up. She isn’t surprised to find Leo above her with his signature, though more slightly confused than usual, grin. She raises her hand as she shrugs, nudging her head towards their exit and grabbing his hand to drag him through it, “Have a good rest of your evening, Mr. Sherma!”

As the two leave, they hear her teacher call out for her, hitting one last high note as they push through the auditorium doors. It only encourages (Y/n) to pick up her pace, leading the turtle through the halls toward the exit.

Leo is rightfully confused, especially when (Y/n) doesn’t elaborate on it in the slightest.

“Are we going to talk about that orrrrr?” He attempts to nudge, his hands coming up and crossing behind his head. He leans back into the hold, his eyes never leaving her form as they walk the streets of the neighborhood around the school.

He feels his breath hitch when she turns to him, undeterred by the grimace on her face when the light escaping from the sun’s rays meets the color of her eyes. He hears her response, but he finds himself more focused on her mannerisms as she animatedly fumbles through explaining what went down. Her (h/c) hair bounce with every step, just as animated as her, but still relatively deflated from the exhaustion of her instructor and the heavy plush of her pink winter hat.

“This almost was not worth giving up my shift for,” She finishes, bringing her fingers up to her lips to breathe on them. A pout takes place on her plump lips as she digs in her jacket pockets, slipping her gloves on, “He started singing about wanting and wants when all I want now is to make back the tips from Run of The Mill. We didn’t even pick anything because of his weird song!”

Leo finds himself only able to nod as (Y/n) continues to grumble the rest of her rant. He had only really heard the last bit of what was going on, but that was due to him deciding to investigate after hearing some weird screeching and shouting. He didn’t actually expect to find her being held hostage by her singing teacher, but it aligned pretty well with the few things he’d heard about Sherma from (Y/n) and April. Even now, he feels the man is something unreal entirely.

He takes the binder out from between her armpit while she’s distracted, her ramblings turning into muttered gibberish that he can very much still understand. He starts flipping through the pages again, his face softening as he stops on a page of distracted doodles he hadn’t noticed on his first run.

(Y/n) was no artist, by any means, but she was damn good at creating a scene of stick figures. Some showcased plausible blocked scenes and others were silly little things like a chibi version of herself squashed under a rock labeled ‘Drama’ in her fanciest cursive or exaggerated versions of their friend group doing severely ambiguous poses.

As he goes to flip to the next page, the hums of people on the street reach his ears, but his companion has stopped her ramblings. She’s stopped altogether, staring ahead with a bewildered look.

 “Carolers caught your attention, (N/n)?” He asks as he looks up from the book to her, a smirk dancing along his lips as the quip readies itself from his brain cells, “You can’t judge them too harshly for being a tad bit pitchy, y’know. Not everyone can hold a note by ear.”

The teasing was worth it, especially with the deadpanned expression she gave him in response. However, she shakes her head as her thumb and index finger grip his chin, pulling him down to her level. Their faces are mere inches apart and Leo can all but feel all the warmth spread through his face, “They’re all perfectly dancing in sync.”

He doesn’t exactly process her words, his eyes going smaller as his lips form an O shape, “What?” The words do slowly jog back up with his brain processing, laughing at her statement, “I’d expect them to be dancing in sync if they’re all caroling. Would be a little embarrassing if they put a whole dance together and all ended up doing their own thing-,”

“No, Leo,” Her fingers turn his head forward as she speaks. Her hold is firm enough to keep him there, yet soft enough that he doesn’t feel like his skin is gonna tear off as she directs him, “Look at them all in sync. Everyone…”

And just like she said, everyone on the street had been humming and dancing in sync to the same tune. No one seemed to be a pitch-off or a step out of line as they filled the streets of midtown New York.

“Holy shit…,” He mutters out, eyes the size of saucers as he takes it all in, “Was there some block party announced that we don’t know about or something? Flash mob, maybe?”

“For it to be this big, impossible,” (Y/n) mumbles back, releasing her grip on his chin as she also continues to take in the sight of the sea of bodies.

“Yeah-yeah-yeah!”

The crowd separates down the middle, continuing to shimmy and sway in tandem. A lone girl remains, bundled up in a big puffer jacket with a green vest over the top of it. Her right hand rightly grips a clipboard and the recycle sign on the left breast of her vest is just barely visible through the crinkles of the uniform. She’s suddenly belting out words, the widest grin on her face as she bounces for a few beats, fist happily pumping in the air as she perfectly centers herself between the crowd.

“Just a typical day, that’s got me feeling in a beautiful way. No rhyme or reason,” She starts, pointing at some random person in the crowd, “We could sing a duet, dance a style or two. Or I’ll make you a bet, just a smile will doooo.” 

She does flawless chaines before going into a sly, Italian fouetté. The duo flinches at the precision, their eyes trailing her moves. It really does nothing to give them context, but they can’t really complain when they’re already so enthralled.

She ends by raising both hands towards the air, feet spread as she belts to the sky, “Sometimes I just wanna shout on top of roof and mountaintops. All the world is paved in goldddd.” She lowers her hands as she holds the note out, tossing her clipboard off into the crowd somewhere. She places her now free hands on her hips as she walks along the lines of the crowd, hips bumping to the beat of the music, “Yesterday was retroactive, got myself a new perspective. I strut it up and down the road.”

“If the fighting climate change gig doesn’t work, she’d totally rock Broadway,” Leo comments perfectly between verses as they get a little closer to the action on the streets.

The girl stops her strutting right behind them, both arms resting on one of their shoulders, “So I throw out my worries and my old skin away,” She gives them both a little shove forward, nodding her head before doing a pirouette en dehors, “Doing what I want to do on this la dee dah dee daaaaaaay!”

Both teens stumble with (Y/n) catching herself by setting her feet on the pavement and Leo grabbing his arm as she’s steady. The girl stops spinning as she holds out the note, the folks in the surrounding area joining in midway through. The crowd begins to form a circle around the girl, Leo, and (Y/n), joining hands as they skip around them for a bit before changing directions and skipping the other way.

“La dee dah dah, la dee dah dah, la dee dah dah day!”

“La dee dah dah day!” The crowd releases their hands in exchange for clapping on the beat, perfectly moving their hands in tandem with one another. High right, high left, low right, low left which each other word of the chorus and clapping on every word for each straight ‘La dee dah dee day’ 

The girl gives them both a high five before running out of the crowd as the circle disperses. Everyone on the street continues to hum and step on beat.

(Y/n) and Leo turn to each other, equally dumbfounded at the event transpiring around them. They still somehow manage to remain in the middle of the chaos, even as they attempt to weave through the crowd in search of the nearest manhole cover.

“What the fuck was that?” (Y/n) finally asks, turning to the blue-clad turtle as he fixes his ruffled clothes to hide himself a little better. 

Neither are really watching where they’re going when Leo accidentally bumps into a homeless guy on the street. He panics, straightening the guy before he can teeter much, “I’m so sorry, sir,” He quickly begins searching his pockets, “Here, let me see if I have any-,”

“Hey, man that’s cool,” The guy happily replies with a smile, seemingly ignoring the change that jostled out of his tin can, “‘Cause I may not have a home, but that’s way okay. ‘Cause I prefer to roam the streets all day.”

He sings in the same cadence as the girl from before. The crowd of people turns towards them, doing the heel-toe around them on the beat to the song, every other row going the same way while each row in between goes a different way.

“The world is my house, the dogs are my food,” A small dog scampers past, “Oh, look— a new blouse!” He lifts a newspaper from off the street, his face lighting up as he runs past them, “And a new trash can tooooo!”

(Y/n) steps closer to Leo, his arm immediately going for her shoulders and pulling her closer until she’s flush against him. Her hand immediately grips his jacket in an attempt to pull him closer. They’re unable to keep their eyes off of him and both are a little too petrified to move from where they stand. The guy skips around them, raising his hands into the air and lowering them the longer he circles.

“I used to want to kill them all while high on bath salt zombie drugs and snacking on a dead man’s face,” He stops and stares at them for a little too long, his glare shifting around to every person dancing around them as he does a little, slow spin in place. He stops before a bright smile lights his face, “But that just feels like yesterday! This song takes all the pain away. My politics and house views changed.” He does a little dancy dance to emphasize his point, “Dancing on the concrete used to hurt a lot, but now I got new feet and this jam’s just way too hot!”

“La dee dah dah day!” The crowd around them all lift their hands to the sky as they sing the chorus again, waving them to the beat with a small step every other note, “La dee dah dah, la dee dah dah, la dee dah dah day! La dee dah dah day!”

(E/c) orbs spot an opening, her mind counting each beat it opens up. She steps away from Leo a bit, getting a grasp on his arm as her narrowed eyes keep a close watch on her path of escape. Her compadre starts looking through his pockets again, a grin on his face.

“I have literally no idea what’s going on here, but this is so cool!” He manages to pull out a five, happily setting it in the homeless guy’s tin can, “That’s all I’ve got for right now, but I’ll totally keep more cash on me in case I run into you guys again tomorrow.”

“Leo, come on,” She manages to pull him through the crowd just in time. It’s almost comical how easily she tugs him along through the rows of dancing New Yorkians, “This is the second dance number I’ve been forced to sit through today-,”

They continue to weave through the crowd, the clear street beyond the dance mob seemingly beyond their fingertips. (Y/n) keeps a strong grip on Leo as she leads the way, while he remains amazed by the group's movements around them. 

Just as they reach the end, the girl from before lands in front of them. She’s regained her clipboard, which now rests tightly in the palm of her hand. She takes a deep breath before she sings out a call, “Do you wanna save the planet?!”

“Of course, you want to save the planet!” The crowd calls back, freezing in place to stop and look back at her.

“Do you wanna save the planet?!”

“Well, there’s just one way you can do it!”

“By singing a song!” Without warning, the girl begins cartwheeling toward the center of the crowd as they sing back at her. She stops a moment to sing with them, “Singing along!” Before immediately going back to her cartwheels. The crowd goes back to singing the chorus as she does, every other row overlapping with the other

“La dee dah dah, la dee dah dah, la dee dah dah day!” With each row she cartwheels by, the ensemble turns back towards the center. They continue to repeat it a few times, changing the lyrics up just as she hits the last row, “La dee dah dah, la dee dah dah, la dee dah dah day… Away…”

The girl does a flip in the air as she reaches the center, landing on her feet perfectly with her arms raised in the air and her clipboard intact between her fingers. She lowers herself to rest on one knee, belting out one final, “La dee dah dah”

Each row of the crowd falls to their knees one after the other aligned with each word she sings. It’s almost creepy how synchronized their moves are. They finish the song off in unison with a final, “Day!” Everyone holds the position for a few beats before getting up and moving along with their day like nothing just happened.

The two remain standing there after watching all of that happen, equally confused and mesmerized by the events that just transpired before them. Leo is by far more amused than (Y/n). He turns to her with a knowing grin as he takes in her face.

Her mouth is held open, has been since the girl cartwheeled and flipped back to the middle. Her eyes, while not the size of saucers, hold an intrigued gaze in them. Her grip on Leo’s arm loosened in the midst of that, her hand now limply resting on his inner forearm as opposed to tugging it forward.

“You’re gonna catch flies, (N/n),” Leo teases, his index finger hooking under her chin and slowly pushing it upwards. Once her mouth closes, he tilts her chin up towards him and their eyes meet. He doesn’t fight back his grin like he does the warm feeling in his cheeks and she doesn’t miss the way it rises as he catches sight of the soft flush in her cheeks, “You wish your classmates were that in sync.”

She huffs as she walks ahead of him into the alleyway, waiting for the streets to clear before pushing the manhole cover aside. She sits against the entrance, looking at him a little annoyed, “Yeah…” 

She jumps down into the sewer hole and activates her flight ability just in time to float to the bottom. Leo climbs down not too far behind her, touching the pavement a few minutes after.

[aestheticaltcow]

I Don't Love You, I Worship You

Summary: Billy Hargrove was enthralled from the second he met Anya Murlock and determined to make her his.

CW: There is smut in later chapters, some threats of violence, overall kinda wholesome...

Stranger Things Masterlist

Chapter 1: The New Girl

“Have a beautiful day, my gorgeous girl!” Anya smiled when she heard the sing-songy sound of her mother, Carly, saying her goodbyes that morning. She paused in the doorway and craned to glance into the kitchen where her mother stood drinking a cup of coffee, “Will do, Mommy. I love you.”. Carly responded with, “I love you more, baby!” resulting in Anya shaking her head with a grin. Carly always managed to get the last word in during the morning goodbyes.

Anya pulled on her backpack strap nervously as she walked down the street. She was nervous about starting a new high school her senior year, but it was okay. A new scene was always good; this move felt more permanent to her. She slipped her headphones over her ears to help the walk to school go by faster. 

As she walked into school, Anya felt eyes on her. She pulled her sleeves over her hands and quickly found the front office. “Excuse me?” Anya asked, attempting to get the receptionist’s attention to no avail. “Excuse me?” she asked louder. The woman finally turned to face her and asked, “What’s your last name?” “Murlock.” “Mmhm.” the woman turned to open a drawer. She dug through papers until finding what Anya assumed were student files. The woman turned to face her, “Okay, Anya, here is your schedule, locker assignment, and school map. If you have any problems, feel free to stop by the office at the end of the day, okay?” Anya nodded in response and quickly walked out of the office.

First-period English. Unproductive, boring, and simplistic. Anya was satisfied to pair up with a girl named Nancy for their first essay project. She seemed nice and had a soft face; as their teacher droned on the importance of Shakespeare literature for modern literature, Anya found herself distracted doodling in her notebook. She said goodbye to Nancy at the end of class.

Second-Period Math. Pointless, Anya couldn’t follow her teacher’s rambling and once again found herself doodling in her notebook. The bell couldn’t have rung any sooner.

Third-Period Social Studies. Anya was ready to go home at this point. Unlike the prior classes of the day, the teacher called on her. “Okay, Anna, when was the Mexican border war?” “Oh um, 1910-1919…. Also, my name is Anya, not Anna…” Anya swallowed, hoping she hadn’t pissed the teacher off. “Oh, my apologies. That was correct. The Mexican border war.” Anya turned her attention back to her drawing until the bell rang for lunch period.

Anya loathed the idea of needing to find a place to sit. Her eyes quickly scanned the large room until she found an empty table in the opposite corner. She maneuvered through a maze of tables and took note of the groups she’d passed; it was like any other high school. She was intrigued by a group of boys wearing shirts branded with ‘Hellfire Club.’

Anya sat down and put her bag on the table before slipping her headphones back on. She pulled her notebook out again and went back to her doodling. As the music played, Anya crunched into an apple and looked around the cafeteria for more people to draw. Her eyes settled on a guy a few tables away; she liked his soft blonde curls and blue bedroom eyes. She took a mental picture of him and turned back to her sketchbook.

Fourth-Period Science. Anya felt her eyes glaze over at one point.

Fifth-Period Gym. Thankfully, they didn’t have to do much that day since it was the first day.

Sixth-Period Art. Finally. Anya felt at home. She took her notebook out again and returned to the day's doodles. Art was the one thing Anya felt good at. Drawing, painting, photography, everything felt simple and homey.

The final bell rang, and Anya slipped her notebook into her bag before exiting class. She was distracted with thoughts of what she would do when she got home when she bumped into someone. Anya looked up to see the boy from lunch standing before her, “Oh, I’m sorry.” she apologized; she noticed his jaw clench as he looked down at her. She stepped to the side, but he continued to stare at her, “What’s your name?” he finally asked. “Anya. Anya Murlock.” he nodded. “I’m Billy. Don’t make it a habit of bumping into me.” his face was like stone, and Anya couldn’t help but admire his sharp jawline and high cheekbones. “Okay…” Anya said softly before walking away.

Billy watched Anya as she walked away. She was new. He noticed her breasts as they spoke and couldn’t help but stare at her butt as she walked away. He scoffed as he turned to head into the gym for basketball practice.

Billy slammed the front door as he left for school the following day, it was only 7 AM, and he was already pissed. Neil was yelling at him about taking care of Max and how he needed to be more responsible if he wanted to continue living under his roof after he graduated.

As Billy got closer to school, he noticed Anya walking. He slows to a crawl and rolls down his window, “Anya.” he called out to her. She looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Want a ride?” she shrugged in response, and Billy put his car in park before unlocking the passenger’s door. He watched her smooth the bottom of her dress as she put her backpack at her feet, “So you’ll get into any stranger’s car? Good to know.” he joked as he watched Anya shift in her seat. Anya shrugged before asking, “Are you going to murder me?”. Billy chuckled softly. “Maybe.” he put his car back into drive, and the two drove the rest of the way to school. Billy noticed Anya’s head nodding to the music as she looked out the window. New. Cute. Good taste in music. Billy was fascinated. 

When the two pulled into the school’s parking lot, Anya thanked Billy for the ride and walked inside. Billy stared at her as he also got out of the car. He leaned against the driver’s side door and fiddled with a cigarette before placing it between his lips. Anya would be his.

The first half of the day went by slowly. Billy noticed Anya walk into the cafeteria that day. He watched her sit in the corner and dig through her bag; Billy must have been watching her more intensively than he thought. Tommy H. hit his arm, returning his attention to the group’s conversation. “You tryin' to hook up with the new girl or something?” he questioned, silently wishing he could do the same. Billy shrugged. “She’s interesting.” as he turned his attention back to where Anya had been sitting, she’d left. Billy rolled his eyes and stuck a piece of gum in his mouth; she’ll be his.

[awkwardchaosposts]

Wildflower

Niragi x Fem!reader (Childhood friends? to enemies to lovers) pt. 1

TW!: tsun-tsun Niragi,mentions of an absent father,mentions of the sandal (if you know you know ༎ຶ⁠‿⁠༎ຶ)

/⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\/⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\/⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\/⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\/⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\/⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\/⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\

"Hey Haru come on!"

the bustling sound of the playground and giggling of little kids filled everyone's ears.

Niragi was busy playing Pirates with his friends. He was just about to 'win' the battle with Captain Haru when your plastic sword jabbing into his back made him pause

"Take that. I'm the captain now!"

He stared at you in bewilderment but his expression soon turned into anger.

"No you aren't!" the 7 year old boy was livid.

He looked to his friends for approval but they all agreed that you won fair and square.

"Yeah well...You suck!"

You crossed your arms,quite proud of yourself about being crowned the new captain of the 'pirate ship' that was in reality just a couple boxes that they stacked together on the playground.

*~*~*~*~

From that day on the little boy held a grudge.

He pulled at your pigtails, threw paper airplanes at you, basically anything that a childish bully could do to annoy you.

Until one fateful day you had enough. Punching him square in the jaw. Little Sugaru has never been so scared in his life.

~*~*~*~*~*

The fight resulted in a call from your parents and them scheduling a playdate with the two of you,hoping that their kids could hash things out.

"Hey that's mine!"

Niragi took the toy car away from you,clutching it possessively to his chest.

You huffed,sticking your tongue out at him which only added fuel to the fire of your childish conflict.

He didn't like you at all and you both played separately for a long time but Niragi was curious about something.

His mom and dad has been sitting with your mom in the kitchen for ages. So... "Is your dad coming too?"

The question made you pause,your gaze meeting his. "No. Why do you care?"

He huffed,crossing his arms. "I don't"

But something about your reaction intrigued him. But he was just too young to understand your situation

He was confused by that sad look in your eyes. He's never made a girl cry before that wasn't his little sister. Nor was he sure that he'd ever want to.

You were busy drawing shapes in the sand with a stick you found on the ground,trying to busy yourself to pass the time.

You were so distracted that it startled when some wildflowers were shoved in your face.

You frowned,taking them. You tried to look at Niragi but he refused to show his face,looking at anything but you.

You looked down at the flowers. A pretty yellow that grew from the weeds in the unkempt garden. "My mom says these are the bad kinds of plants"

The boy's little ego got bruised and he huffed. "You don't want it? then give it back"

But you held the flowers out of his reach. "No it's mine. You gave it to me"

"Yeah? Well I take it back!"

You continued to argue,at each other's throats but the moment Niragi grabbed your shirt the argument was interrupted by his mom.

"Sugaru cut that out!"

He glanced at his mother with fear when he saw she was already starting to take off her sandal to teach her rowdy son a lesson. Then he glanced at you. Smug as ever. It made his blood boil.

He reluctantly let go of you. "Yes Mama"

~*~*~*~*~*

"Y/N"

You were brought out of your own trip down memory lane combined with the lo-fi music you blasted in your ears.

You took off your earphones,making a mental note to hide them better next time.

"Give me that"

The teacher spoke coldly,giving you a stern look.

The class erupted in giggles. Despite most of the people in your class being 15-16 they still found such a simple thing amusing.

Miss Lovett tried to get the class to quiet down before resuming her nonsensical speech. You weren't paying attention,too busy trying to resume your daydreaming when-

"Sugaru Niragi"

That name was enough to make you look at your new transfer student.

What was he doing here?

/⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\/⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\/⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\/⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\/⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\/⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\/⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\

[alaydabug2]

@sparklenarniawizard

Broken heart/Broken mind

Chapter eleven

(Human AU)

Sophie and Keefe met in the children's hospital when they were little. Because of how long they were confined to the four walls of the hospital, they became very close during their stay.

As the years pass, they wind up being in the same classroom together due to their physical conditions. This makes their bond deepen.

But are they able to handle when life gets tough, throwing problems and complications their way?

This originally had a song with it

So use your imagination or play ot on your own 😅

The song is "Stand By You"

(Don't play song until said for best effect.)

Grady dropped Sophie off at the roller rink. She said goodbye and hurried inside. Tam and Linh were already waiting inside. She ran over to them.

"Hey!" Linh said. She tried to meet her half way, but lost control of her skates. Tam rolled over to her and grabbed her shoulders to stop her from spinning out across the floor.

Sophie walked over to her instead. "Ready?"

"Yup!"

"Alright, lemme go get my some skates."

Sophie went to the desk and got the skates. She strapped them on. She made her way onto the hardwood and tested her balance. Once she was good, she rolled to Tam and Linh.

They waited near the entrance for a few minutes while they waited for the others. Keefe came through the door next, Dex right behind him. They got their skates and went onto the floor.

Finally, Biana arrived with her brother trailing behind her. She quickly got situated and ran to join her friends.

"What's he doing here," Tam pointed at Fitz.

"Babysitting," Biana said with an eye roll.

"Hey, I'm not happy about third wheeling you and your friends either," Fitz said as he pulled out his phone. "I tried to see if Alvar would do it, but he's going on a date tonight." He propped his feet up on the armrest of the bench.

"Never mind," Biana muttered. "Let's just skate already!"

Sophie and her friends rolled around the rink. They rotated playing tag, dancing to the music, and trying to knock each other of their feet.

When some slower dances started to come on, they took it as their cue to take a break and get some water as couples invaded the floor.

(Play song.)

After a few songs, Keefe squeezed her hand. He motioned to the rink as Stand By You turned on. She took his hand, and he led her to skate around the edge of the rink together.

They rolled around in silence for a moment until Keefe said, "I know your birthday isn't until next week, but I wanted to give you your present now while we're here."

Sophie's eyebrows raised. He... almost looked flustered. She couldn’t tell for sure because of the dark room, but she could almost see a pink tint to his cheeks. It made one spread across hers, too.

He held out a little box. She took it from him, and gasped when she opened it. Inside was a charm bracelet. It only contained one charm. A small black swan. Alongside it was a tiny drawing of a black swan. On the back, it read in his hand writing:

"I hope you have a very happy birthday, Sophie. I know you've always liked how graceful swans are and how elusive the black ones are, so I figured you'd like this bracelet I saw when I was out shopping with my mom. I hope you like it."

"Oh wow," she breathed. She looked into his eyes. "I love it!"

He almost seemed to slump with relief as a tentative smile etched his lips. He helped her put it on. She tackled him with a hug and nearly sent them tumbling down from the skates.

Keefe was able to steady them. He chuckled a little bit, but wrapped his arms around her. "Thank you," Sophie murmured. "I really appreciate it."

"Of course." He held her a little tighter.

It was pretty much the same as any other time he hugged her. But somehow... this felt different for some reason.

Was it the way his grip was ever so slightly tightened? The way he almost seemed to be swaying her to the music? How her face was buried in his shoulder?

Whatever it was, she had to double-check herself to make sure she wasn't having a seizure with the way her heart seemed to do that same weird flip. That was surely a new development. Although she wasn't sure what it was. With the way her head was pressed against Keefe, she could also hear his heart beating fast.

They rolled around the rink again for ten more minutes. Neither of them had pulled their hands away. They didn't break away until they made it back to their friends and went to sit back in their seats.

Dex had suggested food, so they all made their way to the concession counter. Sophie made her way over to the table and sat down. Keefe took a seat beside her. She smiled at him. His pupils dilated and he looked away.

After eating, they spent the rest of the night horsing around. The dance music came back on, and they chased each other around.

Sophie stayed outside the rink after nearly everyone else left. Keefe still wasn't picked up yet. Thankfully, Sophie and her parents knew the drill at that point.

They waited until headlights drove into the parking lot. Ro rolled down her window and told Keefe to get in the car.

Keefe told Sophie goodbye and climbed into the vehicle. She could see through the tinted windows as he collapsed into his seat and started ranting to his sister about something. Except it seemed to be a good rant. When he finished, he had a smile on his face, and Ro patted him on the back.

Sophie got into her own car and her parents drove them home.

[filthyfluffyfantasies]

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . DL;DR - this fic is not meant for anyone under the age of 18 as it contains the following: casual sex with a stranger, one night stands, penetrative/unprotected p in v, oral sex, marking, handjobs/fingering, some dirty talk & the use of petnames. writer does not give permission for her works to be reposted, with or without permission. ✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

prompt nine - anonymous sex

character | fandom - rockstar!eddie munson | stranger things

reader | original character - female reader, one night stand /college coed & non -or vague, description.

words - roughly 4.9k

tagging - &lt; taglist here >

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . Eddie Munson is only passing through with his band. He plays a show at your favorite dive bar and the two of you hit it off, spending a sex-fuelled weekend together... ( Pt 1 of 2, possible series later )✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

Cleveland, Ohio, 1988

❝ This is a bad idea, Taylor.❞ - the local dive bar 3 blocks away from your college campus is ten times as crowded as it normally is. Up towards the front of the small bar, a makeshift stage is being set up and about the third or fourth time someone bumps into you and spills some booze heavy bastardization of a mixed drink down the front of your favorite shirt, you’re seriously tempted to find the nearest exit, a promise is a promise but to be fair, you didn’t realize that live music would draw more people in.

Especially live music from a band that literally nobody’s ever heard of before.

Taylor grabs you by the wrist and she’s pointing to the makeshift stage excitedly. To the drummer, to be exact. You laugh softly because now it makes perfect sense why she dragged you out tonight.

❝ He’s hot, right?❞ she asks. You laugh softly and take a sip of the drink she’s offering you and as you drag the back of your hand over your mouth, you see him.

He’s every bit of 6’2.. At least. The black jeans he’s wearing are so tight you ponder for a few good seconds as to whether they’re painted on and alternately, how the guy’s even breathing okay. 

Your tongue drags over your bottom lip as your eyes linger just a little too long to be decent on the outline standing out against the zipper of his jeans. You actually whine, you don’t realize you have until Taylor starts to laugh softly, watching you as she takes a few sips from the drink after she’s taken it back from you. 

Your entire face feels hot and honestly, you’re not sure whether it’s the booze you’ve barely consumed, the fact that the man you’re currently eye-fucking is apparently hung, if outlines are anything to go by and he’s certainly the most gorgeous example of the male species your eyes have ever set sights on.. 

After you finally manage to tear your eyes off of his lower body, as they drift upwards and you see the defined V of his abdomen -plus a few gnarly scars and a tattoo or two that look pretty recent- peeking out from below the bottom of his cropped black muscle shirt, you gulp. It’s a pathetic attempt to swallow down the lump that’s built in your throat at the sight of this man and also, a pathetic attempt to get your brain unfrozen, get yourself centered and focused again.

And breathing properly, there’s that, of course.

Taylor is standing back, watching you. She’s amused because she’s never seen you this dazed. Especially not over some bad-boy rocker. Preppy law student types, those are all you seem to date.

And it never really works out, she thinks to herself as she continues to watch you as you fuck Mr. Tall, Dark Clothes and Broody Handsome as he sets up for the show, tuning his guitar. Gee, I wonder why. Maybe the preppy law students she’s always hooking up with aren’t actually her type. 

By now, your eyes are drifting to his hands. The way long and thin fingers pluck sound out of a Warlock guitar. You’re doing it again, biting down on your bottom lip, which is now accompanied by your thighs clamped tight yet somehow, still they manage to slip and slide off of each other. Taylor clears her throat just as you finally manage to tear your eyes off his hands and the way he plays his guitar and look at his actual face, locking eyes with him.

He’s staring right back. Hard. When he catches you staring, dead to rights, his cheeks darken just a little and he swallows hard, teeth plucking at a very kissable bottom lip as he grins from ear to ear.

There’s something very familiar about him despite the fact that you know for sure you’ve never met him a single time in your entire life. You know it, there’s no way in hell you would’ve forgotten the man if you had met.

He gives this little wave and you want to dissolve into the floor of the bar. Taylor has gone from laughing a little bit to full-on, doubled over laughing. ❝ Girl.. The look on your face right now...❞ she shrugs off the dirty look you give her as you reach for the cup in her hand and shotgun about a third of the mixed drink left inside of it. 

The watered down 80 proof still manages to burn from your throat down to the pit of your stomach and you grimace because you’re not really a drinker by any stretch so the sips you’ve taken so far have the tips of your ears on fire.

❝ Oh hush.. He’s.. He’s gorgeous, alright? And I swear to God, I’ve seen him before...❞ you’re biting your thumb as you try to puzzle out whether it’s just him in general that feels so familiar -and why, or whether it’s just the fact that you’re a little tipsy now and he looks like an old god or a breathing work of art.

Taylor shrugs. ❝ They’re not from around here.. According to Nick, they’re from some little pissant town.. Uh.. It’s in Indiana.❞ she rubs her forehead as she tries to remember what the owner of the bar was telling her about the band he’d invited to stop in and play an impromptu live show. She grins. ❝ Hawkins! It’s Hawkins, that’s the town they’re from.. You moved around a lot when you were a kid.. Ever heard of the place?❞

You mull it over. The second it hits you, you laugh and nod. ❝ My grandma lived there. I think we visited her a time or two but we were never in town for long or anything.. Definitely not long enough for me to meet and forget that man up there...❞

❝ I call dibs on the drummer..❞ Taylor butts in and you laugh, shrugging. Swallowing hard as you just happen to glance up at the makeshift stage to find the black clad lead singer watching you. A heat spreads throughout your entire body as the two of you lock eyes. He smirks again, giving you a bold little wink. You give him a sassy wave.

❝ The drummer is all yours, girl. If I had t’ call dibs on anybody, I think it’s gonna be him. He’s as tall as a goddamn tree and I’ll be damned if I wouldn’t willingly die to climb him.❞

Taylor snorts in laughter. She writes it off to the mixed drink you’ve been slamming back since the two of you finally managed to get into the bar because normally, you’re real quiet. Real sweet but also, real reserved. You don’t really let loose a whole lot, this is a huge reason why she decided she was dragging you out to the show tonight, hell or high water.

You needed tonight. She definitely needed tonight. Some live music, a few drinks and a chance to relax, no studying or other adult adjacent bullshit on the horizon until around Tuesday.

❝ What’s so funny? I was being completely serious.❞ you ask, giggling as you reach for the cup again, a pout promptly forming just as soon as you realized that the cup was just about empty. Taylor offers it to you and you take it, finishing off the drink.

Your eyes settle on the makeshift stage all over again just as the lights in the bar go dim. And as soon as you hear that they’re opening with a lesser-known Black Sabbath song, you’re one thousand and one percent sure of it, as sure as each breath you’re taking.

You’re fucked when it comes to this guy. Absolutely fucked. Because he’s the antithesis to your typical type and yet, he had you dripping with just a stolen look or two. And sure, you could lie to yourself and pretend that the reason is simply that you haven’t gotten laid lately. But you know you’d be lying.

This cannot be the trait I share in common with my ma. It can’t! I mean, is it the same as her thing with small time wrestlers, minor league hockey and baseball players though? Oh god, you’re gaping in horror as soon as the thought fully forms and panic sets in as a result, I’m turning into my ma.. Only with bad boy metal musicians.

Regardless of the internal panic, you find yourself humming along, drumming the top of the bar along with Corroded Coffin’s cover of Luke’s Wall.

Taylor’s giggling, stumbling through the lyrics right along with you and at one point, during a pretty high-energy cover of Whole Lotta Love by Led Zeppelin, you lock eyes with the lead singer and he’s staring right back at you. Hard.

The band moves on to a slower ballad after an intro from Mr. Lead Singer that has you giggling and gasping just a little in the same breath because he looks right at you, offering only a shrug and a playful wink, ❝ Bare with us. I normally hate this shit, but..❞ you can feel that slow burning heat rise up from deep within all over again as you instantly recognize the opening part of Poison’s newest release, Every Rose Has It’s Thorn.. Which ironically, is what you’d been telling Taylor it’d be neat to hear them play. She’d been heckling you for the better part of an hour since, trying to get you to shout out the name of the song.

He chuckles as he abandons the stool he’d been sitting on for two songs now and he wanders over, sitting down on the makeshift stage right in front of you. As he smirks at you, you nearly choke on air. He speaks up, addressing the crowd again as the rest of his band continues to provide track backing, ❝ There’s this girl. She’s kinda hot and she apparently likes this glam rock bullshit, so.. We wanna make our girl happy, right?❞

As he sings the slower song to you, you’re squirming in place, thighs so wet they slip off each other even easier than they have been all night already. He’s smirking, you know your face is on fire, you don’t need a mirror to see it, you can feel it in your cheeks, all the way to the tips of your ears. Even your scalp feels a little hot.

He leans in real close when he delivers the last lyric. ❝ Just like every cowboy sings his sad, sad song..Every rose has its thorn.❞

That has you biting back a helpless whine before you can stop it. Because his voice is a whole other level of velvet, gravel and sex combined perfectly. You can feel it in your bones, you’re never going to hear this song on the radio again without hearing the mysterious lead singer of this little unknown band singing it dangerously close to your face, nearly nose to nose.

He was close enough as he sang to you one on one that you could smell the stench of cigarettes on his breath, mixed with cheap beer and cheap cologne. Maybe a hint of sweaty musk layered underneath. It’s a smell you have the feeling will haunt your dreams long after the show is over and his band has rolled out of Cleveland, onto their next stop of God knows where.

The second the band takes a little smoke break, Taylor’s decided that one way or another, she’s going to at least casually bump into her drummer and say hey. You want to do the same but truth be told, you’re not even a little bit Taylor’s level of brave. So you’re wandering back over to the bar to get yourself a new drink and as you stand elbow to elbow with other people waiting to be served drinks, you feel the exact second someone pushes up into you from behind, a hand resting at the small of your back and somehow, without looking over your shoulder, you know it’s him.

The metal rings on his hand feel cool, smooth and heavy against your heated skin. You swallow hard as your brain immediately forgets how to properly function but you do manage to at least turn so that you’re facing him, staring up at him quietly with your head cocked to the side.

You just thought he was tall up on the little makeshift stage. He towers over you up close and personal. The thought prompts slurring giggles, you’re pretty tipsy at this point. Maybe that’s how you end up grabbing hold of the front of his t-shirt to sort of hold yourself upright when a group of assholes shoves around the two of you and throws your balance off.

His hand settles more firmly against the small of your back and you’re pulled against him a little closer. Eddie’s nose fills with the sweet scent of your perfume and he bites back a groan. Gareth wouldn’t shut the fuck up about him at least introducing himself to you, he came over here with a half-assed plan to do that, figuring that he wouldn’t even get the shot. Now you’re melting against him, looking up at him with those big and pretty eyes of yours as you pop little bubbles with a piece of gum you’re chewing. 

❝ Hey..❞ you both blurt it out simultaneously, sharing a laugh right after, ❝ My name’s Eddie.. Uh, Eddie Munson..❞ he introduces himself. You repeat his name and if he thought he was harder than concrete when you were catapulted into him just seconds before, it’s nothing compared to the way his name rolls off your pretty little lips the way it does. Soft and sultry. Dazed as you stare up at him. He chuckles. Drags a hand through sweaty brown frizz, his curls have given up the fight in the heat of the stage lighting and the crowded bar. His fingertips dig against the small of your back when you manage to just barely rub against him because you’re swaying just a little. ❝ I’m __.❞ you introduce yourself and as soon as you’ve told him your name, he’s throttled all the way back into the first month of 6th grade.

Right after he hit Hawkins to live with his uncle Wayne permanently. You moved to town the week right after and for whatever reason, the two of you just clicked. He’d been wondering what happened to you lately.. 

She doesn’t remember you, man. Don’t bring it up. It’ll fuck up everything. It’s better this way. His mind taunts him with it. You’re staring at him intently, lost in thought. Trying to figure out why you feel as if you should know him, that you’ve somehow met before and yet, the more you try to determine where, the more your mind seems to draw complete blanks.

He chuckles quietly. ❝ It’s nice t’ meet you, __. I think I’m gonna help you back t’ your seat, if that’s alright? Kinda looks like you’re havin a little trouble.❞ he nods to the way you’re swaying as you attempt to stand still and smiles at you. 

And given the fact that you’ll do anything to feel his hand on your body again, you nod. Laugh as you pop a bubble with your gum. ❝ I don’t always do this. But yeah. I’m just a little bit tipsy.❞

He snickers. Promptly followed by a gulp or two when you melt into him dramatically, your forehead in the front of his t-shirt. He slips an arm around you and as soon as he spots your best friend chatting up his drummer, he gives Gareth just the slightest ‘I told you so’ smirk because Gareth had been wanting to talk to your friend all night, he just kept talking himself right out of going for it.

You’re settled on a stool in front of the stage and Taylor makes her way back over to you as the band begins to set up to continue the show. The rest of the night goes by in a fun blur, you’re at least 80 percent sobered up by the time they play  the last song of the night and sadly, you and Taylor are making your way out the door, assuming that you won’t see either man again.

Neither of you realize just how untrue this is going to prove to be until about five minutes later.

Eddie spots you and your friend as the two of you make your way past, laughing with your arms around each other. Moderately sober but still slurring your words and swaying just a little as you pass by. Eddie and Gareth share a look but neither were planning to do anything until Grant speaks up.

❝ Will you two idiots just fucking go? At least see if they’re gonna be okay t’ get home. Our flight out isn’t until 10 am on Monday.❞

Jeff chuckles, glancing from Gareth to Eddie. ❝ Go! Stop standin around here with your thumbs up your asses! I’ve got a hot phone date with the missus and all Grant’s gonna do is watch shitty hotel porn..❞

❝ Fuck you, Jeff!❞ Grant flips off his friend/bandmate and the two share a laugh. Gareth and Eddie share a look and then suddenly, they’re both running. Shoving through a crowd of late-nighters as they make their way out of all the bars that have just given the 2 am last call.

They spot the two of you before you both duck into the diner you usually stop in after a long night at the bar and they clear their throats from behind the two of you.

You and Taylor share a look before turning around, quick enough that you find yourselves body to body with Eddie and Gareth.

❝ Hey.❞ you mumble softly. He chuckles. Bites his lip as he steps up into you even closer, a hand migrating straight to your hip and gently flexing. ❝ Hey.. Where are you two headin? We uh..❞ Eddie stammers, at a loss for words temporarily. It’s Gareth that speaks up after a few seconds of staring at Taylor, ❝ It’s downtown Cleveland.. Pretty sure neither of you should be walkin back all by yourselves…We thought we’d walk with you, right Munson? Earth to Eddie..❞

He’s using the fact that Eddie’s all sorts of dazed, blitzed by you at the moment to poke fun and be a little shit. He can see Eddie’s eyes flash angrily and he chuckles. Eddie mouths that he’s gonna kick the piss out of him later and Gareth merely shrugs. As this is happening, you and Taylor have kind of backed away and you’re talking amongst each other about letting the two men walk you home.

❝ They’re not wrong, _. This place does get crazy around 3 am and it is two entire blocks back to the apartment.. Besides,❞ Taylor points out, ❝ We need to live a little. It’ll be fine.❞

You’re staring a hole through Eddie Munson. And you smile, nodding in agreement when she makes her point. ❝ We’re totally safe.❞ you observe quietly, eyes glued to Eddie Munson. Taylor laughs and nods. ❝ It’s not like this happens all the time and damn it, I wanna have this experience to look back on one day and cherish..❞

The four of you set off in the direction of your edge of campus apartment building, a steady conversation the whole way there.

Everything feels right. Natural. Like you’re exactly where you need to be in this moment.

You’re even a little excited.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ ･ ｡ﾟ ───

Bits and pieces of the night before - your bodies tangled together, his head buried between your thighs, the way it tasted when you let him cum in your mouth.. Or the way he held onto your hips while he was fucking you deep and slow, that all comes floating back as you roll away from harsh sunlight. Instead of your second pillow, your head settles against hardness and warmth. Your eyes pop open and as soon as you see Eddie lying there, his mouth open and snoring lightly, you’re wide awake. Trying to remember everything.

Ultimately, you give up and curl into him, slipping your legs between his as you go back to sleep. You’re just happy the night before wasn’t a dream and it really happened and Eddie Munson is asleep in your bed in the light of day. 

Eddie’s starting to wake up. At first, he’s content to lie there and watch you sleeping, but there’s only so long he can do that and a few minutes later, when you’ve rolled onto your back again, he decides that he’s going to try waking you up.

Rough lips latch against your neck as he settles himself down into you, soft kisses against your warm skin as he bucks himself against you. He knows exactly what he wants right now. He wants to be inside you again.

 ❝ C’mon sweetheart...❞ he coaxes, chuckling when it’s met with cute little whines as your eyes flutter open. You stare up at him and yawn. He presses himself down into you a little better. You can feel the way his cock is strained at the confines of his underwear. This makes you whimper, rock yourself up into him. ❝ Want me t’ wake you up?❞ he questions and you give him a sleepy grin, nodding.

The Corroded Coffin t-shirt he’d given you at some point the night before is pushed up over your body and it falls from Eddie’s fingertips to the floor. You fell asleep not wearing any panties, so when Eddie starts to work his way down your body, pausing briefly to drag his mouth over your nipples as he buries two fingers deep in your cunt, you moan his name against the shell of his ear, rocking yourself against the way his fingers move inside you with precision, prodding at your spongy soft spot because he thinks it’s cute when you’re about to cum and you’re pinned beneath him and moaning his name like some kind of prayer.

His mouth works it’s way down your abdomen and the closer he gets to your throbbing sex, the more you come alive underneath him, your nails digging into his shoulders as your legs fall apart willingly. Your other hand catches up in thick brown frizz, tugging, fingers dancing over his scalp. His teeth latch onto your mound and you moan out his name a little louder than you mean to seconds later when he turns his attention from leaving his initial marked in your soft skin to sucking your clit as his fingers fuck into you faster. You tense just a little, toes digging into your bedsheets as you rock yourself over his fingers and moan at the way he’s dragging his tongue in tight circles over your clit.

When his tongue joins his fingers inside of you, you gasp and arch upwards. You tug at his hair all over again, just a little harder and he laughs against your pussy. ❝ Pull harder if y’ need t’, princess.❞ he coaxes as he grabs hold of one of your hips, both holding you in place just a little better and angling so that his face is completely buried in between the soft dough of your thighs. 

Your head falls back and you’re begging for release. He pauses to look up at you, your juices dripping off his chin and at the corners of his mouth. Then he’s back at it, bridge of his nose bumping against your sensitive sex as he buries his tongue and fingers inside of you even deeper. You’re rocking your hips against his mouth frantically, seeking any friction you can get. Your orgasm is building real fast, you tense up as he mutters against your cunt ❝ Aht aht.. Not yet, sweetheart.❞

He wants to be buried inside of you again so badly that he’s bucking against the mattress because his cock is hard, it’s getting harder by the second and the more he thinks about how good it felt to be buried balls deep inside of you the night before, the more he wants to do it all over again.

And again. And then again.

He’s dreading the fact that the band has to leave town bright and early Monday morning because he doesn’t want to leave you. It’s dumb, it’s way too soon but something about being with you just feels different. 

❝ Jesus.❞ he breathes out against your cunt as his tongue drags over your folds before disappearing inside again, ❝You’re so wet f’ me, sweetheart. Fuck.❞

And he can’t take it anymore. He coaxes you into your first orgasm of the day and then he’s working his way back up your body, dragging the back of his hand over his mouth. He’s glad he fell asleep naked the night before, there’s less clothing to be mindful of. As he settles himself down into you, his mouth crashes against yours. You moan into the kiss as the taste of you fills your mouth. He bites your bottom lip, teeth tugging at soft flesh as the tip of his cock teases at entry, pushing against your sex.

As he buries inside of you, you cling to him, your arms around his neck. You meet his deep thrusts clumsily, whimpering when he starts to move faster and bottoms out, cock scrubbing perfectly against your soft spot.  You’re clenching around him, he can feel the way you’re shaking just to try and hold your orgasm at bay. ❝ Gonna cum f’ me, sweetheart? Gonna flood my cock?❞ followed by a chuckle as he noses some hair away from your neck and his mouth latches against your skin.

He’s gotten it in his head that if he has to leave you, he’s going to do it covered in his marks. He wants you to remember how much fun your little weekend was come Monday morning when you wake up to an empty bed.

He doesn’t want to leave, but he knows -or he thinks he knows, that if he stays, it’ll never work out. The two of you are a little too different. And maybe, deep down, he thinks you’re too good for him. Maybe he’s afraid that sooner or later, you’d see that yourself and leave him behind. Maybe he wants you to finish what you came to college to finish. Meet a better guy, settle down.

But the thought of you with anyone but him hurts. He’ll deny it with his dying breath, but he can’t stand the fact that he’s going to leave without goodbye come Monday morning.

He pushes it all out of his head. He’d rather focus on now, this perfect moment. You’re caged in below him, your pussy is clinging to his cock,  you’re kissing him so soft and those little whines and moans.. You’re repeating his name like a prayer, over and over. Like he’s the only god you want to worship. 

❝ – fuck, oh fuck. Shit, sweetheart.❞ Eddie growls out against your ear as he fucks into you slower and deeper, ❝ Takin me s’ good. Fuck.❞ and he breathes in the fading scent of your perfume before adding in a quieter tone, ❝ Wanna cum so bad, princess. So fuckin bad.. Can I?❞

He’s begging to cum inside you and it’s the hottest -and the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard. Your nails dig against his shoulders, crescent imprints left in their wake as you try to meet his hips with yours but you’re clumsy. Drowning in the orgasm that’s threatening to shatter you. ❝ Let go, sweetheart. C’mon, let me feel it. I need t’ feel you, sweetheart.❞ 

His coaxing is enough. Your orgasm shatters you, leaves you clinging to his body as he fucks you through it and down from the high, straight into his own orgasm a few seconds later. You can feel his hot seed coat your insides and his thrusts come to a slow stop as he melts down into you, pressing his forehead against your tits. Breathing heavy.

❝ Morning, sweetheart.❞ he chuckles as he looks up at you, takes in the fucked out daze you’re in, the way your lips are bruised and swollen from the way he’s been kissing you. And all the marks he left behind.

He’s staring at you as if he wants to commit the way you look pinned below him to memory. You want to ask if there’s any hope for the two of you, if you’re ever going to hear from him again after he leaves town on Monday but you don’t dare. You can’t bring yourself to hear him say this was just a fling because it feels like so much more than that to you.

Things felt too good. Too easy.

He feels like home and you’re filled with dread at the thought that you’re going to lose that when the weekend ends and he leaves town.

[fckinwild-kiwi]

Dec. 16th: Islands in the Stream

Day 16: Cute Aggression/Spontaneous Dancing

It’s time for day 16 of @comp-lady’s Domestic December writing challenge! Day 15 was a free day and I used it to travel for Christmas so there will be no fic on the 15th. :) The next ten days of stories will be shorter than I have been writing…this is because I’ll be with family and I’ll have less time for writing each day. Forgive me! <3

Warnings: Swearing, *Slight* Allusions to Smut (This is an 18+ blog, minors dni)  Word Counts: 0.7k+ Words Pairings: Eddie Munson x Reader

You had seen a TikTok earlier today of something called the “Beckham Test.” In this video, the woman began playing “Islands in the Stream” by Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers. As the song began to play, she began to dance and you quickly realize that if the man randomly began dancing with her, regardless of his moves, he ‘passed’ the test. You thought about how funny it would be to see Eddie’s reaction to hearing this song, a song that is very clearly not in his wheelhouse. So you set out to try the challenge discreetly, even if he didn’t dance, the challenge was so ridiculous anyway that it would give you both something to laugh about later.

With your mom and Macy still at your grandparents' until dinner, you had music playing all day as to not draw suspicion from Eddie. In preparation, you set your phone up on the window sill above the kitchen sink. As the music started playing, you started to hum and sing along as best as you could after only hearing the song a handful of times on TikTok. 

“What are you doing in here, baby?” Eddie questioned as he came into the kitchen causing you to turn and look at him. 

“Doing dishes and listening to some music,” You answered, as you turned back towards the sink to put your dishes down. This is the moment, you thought to yourself as you turned back to face Eddie while swaying your hips a little to the beat.

In the background you hear, Islands in the stream, that is what you are, there’s no in-between... and Eddie, your ever-confident and lovable boyfriend, grabs your hips and begins to sway with you. You giggled, knowing this reaction would be the one you’d receive but as you both began to lightly sing the lyrics to each other, your eyes grew misty. 

“You passed,” You whispered, breaking the moment as Eddie looked down at you with a soft smile. A second later he noticed your eyes full to tears and his happy expression faded into one of confusion. 

“What, sweetheart?” He questioned, his hands coming up to your face, thumbs swiping underneath your eyes to catch the tears that were beginning to bubble over your waterline. 

“I saw something this weekend on TikTok about knowing the person you’re with is your person based on how they participate in this test,” You began mumbling, looking up into Eddie’s eyes. “I expected you to dance with me but it just made my heart all mushy.”

“Aw, did my girl get too overwhelmed with looooove,” He said, extending the word love in a way that he knew would make you smile and (hopefully) giggle.

“Shut up,” You said, pushing at his chest with no effort as a smile lit up your face.

“I’m glad I passed the test I didn’t know I was taking,” Eddie said, releasing you from his grasp and doing a ballerina spin toward the sink where your phone was sitting. “How about we get this party started, huh?”

“What do you mean?” You asked, stepping towards him as he began typing into your phone. 

“I mean,” Eddie started as you heard the opening chords to the Black Sabbath song, ‘Paranoid.’ “We’re gonna dance, baby, but it is gonna be metal when we do it.”

Giggling, you began to headband while jumping up and down as Eddie pretended to shred on the guitar. Together, you started screaming the lyrics, your bodies jumping up and down with limbs flailing in all directions. You were so distracted that you didn’t hear the front door open and an excited Macy ran into the room.

“Metal dance party,” She screamed, causing you and Eddie to both stop your dancing, startled by the intrusion. 

“Macy Macy, you’re back!” Eddie shouted, grabbing the little girl and swinging her around. 

“Did you guys miss me?” She asked in between squeals.

“So much, sweet girl,” You said, ruffling her hair before walking over to your mom to greet her.

“What’s going on in here, my sweeties?” She questioned, as you pulled away from the hug. 

“Your daughter was afraid I wasn’t actually her person, so we had a dance party and then a metal dance party to prove it,” Eddie said shrugging, Macy still giggling.

“He’s ridiculous,” You argued, rolling your eyes with a smile on your face. Your annoyance was not believable in the slightest.

“Well?” Your mom said, nudging your hip with hers as you both watched the other two dance around. “Did he prove himself as your person?”

“He sure did.”

[francis-writes]

I WANNA BE YOUR SLAVE

A/N: this story is terrible, I know. But I started writing it about a year ago and I spent so much time I couldn't delete it, yet so much time I can't look at it anymore and I am too tired to try to make it any better.

Pairing: Alex Delarge x fem!reader

Summary: a quick story of your relationship with Alex.

Type: fluff, smut, angst, 3in1

Warning: s€x, also I can't use Nadsat because I read "Clockwork Orange" only in polish translation. So sorry but Alex speaks normal English.

In a moment you will hear „I Wanna Be Your Slave”, one of the greatest hits of Italian rockband radio speaker announced enthusiastically. Alex smiled and turned up the volume. Some time ago – felt as if ages passed since then but actually it were only a few years – he didn't like rock. To be specific, he didn't appreciate most of the modern music, convinced that it's all trash. For Alex the only music that was worth listening to were classical music and songs from the 50s. It was until he met you. You were obsessed with rock and as you began to see each other more often, he had no choice but get used to your music taste. At first he found it tolerable but when he started falling for you, Alex also began enjoying rock more and he couldn't say whether this genre was really so much better than he thought or it just reminded him about you. I Wanna Be Your Slave was especially important for him. Not only because you loved Måneskin (even though you did) but the lyrics always reminded Alex the whole story of your relationship.

„Come here” he called you „Our song is playing, lets dance”

You went to living room a bit surprised „So we have our song?”

Alex offered you his hand „Now you know”. 

I wanna be your slave

I wanna be your master

I wanna make your heart beat

Run like rollercoasters 

I wanna be a good boy

I wanna be a gangster

'Cause you can be the beauty

And I could be the monster 

Though usually when you visited Alex's house, you didn't stay there for long and left soon after the act, one particular night you were so tired that you both quickly fell asleep. When you woke up, you had no idea what time it was. Alex was still asleep (snuggled up against you like koala against tree) so you carefully crawled from under his arm and out of the bed. He didn't wake up so you took your clothes from the floor (last night there was... a fuss) and dressed up. You were going to leave the house but then you heard a rumble in your stomach and decided to visit the kitchen and - best without drawing anybody's attention - find something to eat.

Unfortunately, your plan failed and when you were putting butter on your toast, you heard surprised "good morning" from the back. You turned around just to see middle-aged woman in flashy outfit. "Can I know what are you doing here?" She asked.

You wanted to give her an intelligent and polite answer but you were so stressed that your words sounded like "uhm, I am... with Alex and I just... hmm, breakfast"

Woman smiled at you. "Oh, Alex never mentioned that he has such a beautiful girlfriend! But he's so secretive, he doesn't want to talk with his old parents about his life"

Before she managed to say anything else, a man - probably her husband - came to the kitchen, trying to discover the source of noise. But he stopped, seeing you. "Who's that?" He asked his wife. 

"You won't believe" she said cheerfully "but our Alex has a girlfriend "

"Well, well" man was observing you with emotionless face "what a news. But he should tell us before and not wait until we would find her in our kitchen"

Woman grunted, probably worried that her husband's words may offend you. "Will you eat a breakfast with us?" She asked "we would love to get to know you closer"

You wanted to find an excuse and avoid an awkward situation but woman already went to knock to Alex's door.

"Son, wake up and come to the kitchen"

"I can't, I have a terrible headache" Alex replied in a sleepy tone, unaware of the whole situation. 

"You can take a medicine" his mother said "but we want to eat breakfast with you and your amazing girlfriend "

It took a moment before meaning of her words got to Alex but soon there was a big noise in his room when he jumped out of the bed and tried to find some clothes. Then he stormed out of his bedroom and stood in the kitchen door, looking as you were sitting beside his father and calmly eating a toast. You awkwardly waved at him.

"Uhm, I just wanted to eat something before leaving and then I met your parents" you tried to explain the situation as you didn't want Alex to think that you deliberately decided to oficially throw yourself into his life.

Fortunately, he was an incredible actor (maybe in his case you should say: great liar) so he immediately put on his most charming smile.

"Oh yes, I hoped to introduce you more properly but in this case, mom, dad, I have honour to introduce you to the most beautiful, smart and incredible woman I ever met. Y/n, my girlfriend"

I love you since this morning

Not just for aesthetic

I wanna touch your body

So fucking electric 

Alex remembered the first time he saw you perfectly. Most of the times he couldn't differentiate one of his one-night-stand from another but you… you weren't like them. Usually he didn't pay attention to his lovers but in that moment when Alex noticed you sitting in Korova Bar, you got into his mind unexpectedly and posessed it.  There was something haunting and tempting about you and Alex at first couldn't say what it specifically was. But maybe the real purpose was that you were standing out from the whole setting. Yes, young girls often visited Korova looking for fun and finding mainly trouble. You were sitting with group of such girls, probably your friends, and yet you were looking different. You werent't giggling, only once when one of girls whispered something to your ear, you smiled gently. In opposite to other girls Alex met before, you weren't showing off your charms and trying to allure men around you nor you were unhappy about impression you made on men. Alex noticed the mischievous sparkle in your eyes and immediately decided to know you better. And that in his dictionary means exactly „to get in your bed”.

When Alex came closer, you didn't approach him but just fixed your gaze on him as if you were trying to guess hiss intentions. He smiled widely and sat beside you.

„What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?” he asked as he used to, flirting with naive girls. But you weren't naive. You sipped your dring and sized him up. After a moment of silence which felt like a eternity for Alex, you replied „I seek somebody to spend this night with”.

He grinned and said "well, it seems that you've already found one"

You were of the same opinion. 

I know you scared of me

You said that I'm too eccentric

I'm crying all my tears

And that's fucking pathetic 

At the beggining of your relationship, you weren't aware of Alex's other activities. You knew about drugs and his many lovers and you may suspected him about minor offenses but nothing strange for a teenager.

But one night you were walking through the streets of London and suddenly a car stopped next to you. Instinctively you wanted to speed up your pace but somebody called your name. You looked at the car and to your surprise, you recognized Alex and his droogies. You thought he didn't have a driver license!

"Where are you going?" Alex asked "Don't waste the night, get in and go with us"

You had some bad feeling about this idea but this was that thing about Alex: it was hard to refuse him.

You sat in the backseat, with Georgie and Dim. They were nice to you but you usually felt uneasy it their company even though you were sure that they wouldn't try anything when Alex is with them. 

So you were speeding through the London streets - real miracle you didn't have any accidents but the city was empty, most people were sensible enough to stay in their houses. You were terrified that later or sooner there will appear a car in front of you and the driver won't have enough time to get out of Alex's way but you knew that any suggestions of driving slower would only effect in a laugh. So to distract yourself from visions of a soon painful death, you asked your company:

"Sooo… what are your plans? Where are we going?"

Georgie shrugged. 

"We don't know"

"Maybe we will visit one hou-" Dim wanted to say something but Alex quickly interrupted him.

"Y/n won't stay with us for so long" he tried to yell over the noise of the car " We will just take you for a little trip around the town and get you back home"

"So early? You told me to don't waste the night" honestly, you really wanted to already be back in your home but the way Alex quickly changed the topic, worried you. 

"Don't worry, I will visit you later if you need some fun" you knew very well what Alex meant by "fun" and so did his droogies because Dim and Georgie laughed hearing his words.

I wanna make you hungry

Then I wanna feed ya

I wanna paint your face

Like you're my Mona Lisa 

I wanna be a champion

I wanna be a loser

I'll even be a clown

Cause I just wanna amuse ya 

I wanna be your sex toy

I wanna be your teacher

I wanna be your sin

I wanna be a preacher 

Alex lifted you from the ground and seated you on the desk. You embraced his waist with your legs while he was trying to unbutton your shirt. Unfortunately, everything he managed to do, was just ripping your shirt - hard to say whether it was effect of rush or alcohol and drugs he probably took before. Anyway your chest was exposed and it was the only thing that mattered then. Alex leaned over and started kissing your neck, then got a little lower and were trailing his kisses down until he stopped between your breasts. He put his lips on one boob and began to suck your nipple and caress the other one with his finger. Unexpectedly Alex bit the sensitive flesh which caused loud moan of pain slipping from your mouth. It was the most beautiful music for his ears. He quickly straightened up and helped you get off the desk. Without saying a world Alex turned you around so now he was standing back to the desk. He kneeled down and started taking off your skirt. You weren't protesting, especially that you felt tipsy after a few drinks Alex bought you this night, so you were just standing calmly and put a hand on his head and began gently stroking his golden hair. But quickly you felt firm grip on your wrist and Alex took your hand off. At the same time he stood up so he was again looking down at you. He released your hand and immediately pushed you so you landed back on his bed. Without wasting a second, Alex threw his clothes off. He kneeled between your legs, rested his weight on one hand and started to slowly trail his finger along your body. From your lips, through neck (you shuddered, being very ticklish in that place), he made a few circles around your breasts and then wandered down, to your most private area. 

"You're dripping wet" Alex noticed with a smirk "Maybe I should help you?"

You nodded and licked your lips, hungry for his touch, hungry for pleasure and relief it could bring.

He slipped two fingers into your pussy and began massaging your clit with his thumb. Alex really rarely was in the mood to pleasure you first, but when he actually did, it turned out that he had incredible skills. Soon you were writhing in pleasure, moving your body to help Alex hit the right spot.

You felt that orgasm is close but then he pulled out his fingers covered in your juice and brought them to your mouth.

"Lick them clean" he ordered.

You knew that complaining about refusing you awaited pleasure had no point so you obedietly started sucking on Alex's fingers and licking them. When you were done, he wiped saliva on your body and put your legs on his shoulders. In this comfortable position, he didn't wait any longer before he started thrusting into you. Alex wasn't known for his patience and he wasn't going to wait any longer for his pleasure.

Soon he pulled out and commanded you to lay on your side. He laid behind you and began to fuck you in this position. His pace was fast and he constantly hit some spot inside of you so you could swear you started seeing stars. The pleasure was too overwhelming and you wanted to beg him to stop but you knew Alex would be deaf for your pleas and cries.

I wanna make you love me

Then I wanna leave ya

'Cause baby I'm your David

And you're my Goliath 

For some time after Alex received a well-paid job and a new comfortable life from minister, he was having fun and he forgot about you. It was great to come back to his old habits, to be able to enjoy ultra-violence and new lovers everyday as before... at least at the beggining. But he felt that he was missing something. Sex and violence somehow weren't enough anymore, drugs couldn't satisfy him. There was an abyss in his life and Alex didn't know how to fill it.

More and more often he catched himself staring at happy families with children. But when he met Pete and his wife - that's when everything clicked in Alex's mind. He thought about the time he spent with you. How he enjoyed not only fucking with you but also talking with you over the cup of tea, watching movies together or even such mundane things like watching news or going for groceries. This was special, Alex never was so close to somebody in his life (maybe except Basil but he was like... a snake). He would never expected that one day he would say this but Alex enjoyed this domestic life.

The next day he knocked to your door, with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. When you saw him, you were surprised, to say the least. 

"Alex? What are you doing here?" You asked. 

"Actually I'm taking you for a date" he replied, giving you flowers "Take what you need and come with me, the car is waiting"

You looked at the flowers and then at Alex. You wasn't expecting it after he left without a word, but well, it was Alex, you were never sure what he's gonna do. You probably should have refuse after all he have done but you eventually  decided to go to this date. Well, Alex could be really convincing when he wanted to and to be honest - you deserved to have some fun.

And you were together since then. 

Because I'm the devil

Who's searching for redemption

And I'm a lawyer

Who's searching for redemption

And I'm a killer

Who's searching for redemption

I'm a motherfucking monster

Who's searching for redemption

And I'm a bad guy

Who's searching for redemption 

And Alex remembered the day your relationship changed. Until that you were meeting for sex and maybe some night adventure. Yes, you were closer to him than his other lovers and you talked with each other quite a lot but it all was just fleeting moments of fun. You were seeing each other in your free time out of boredom, because you had nothing better to do - and because you liked each other's presence.

It changed the day Alex was freed from prison, his parents kicked him out of the house and he had nowhere to go. When he was wandering lonely through the streets of London, wondering what to do with his life, he remembered about his old lover. There were little chances that you would shelter him - after all, you had no business in keeping in your house unemployed ex-convict who wasn't even able to have sex - but Alex was in hopeless situation and he had no other option so eventually he decided to give it a try. To his surprise, when you saw him at your door, you invited him to your house without a second thought. You knew what happened to Alex from newspapers but you also wanted to hear the whole story from his perspective.

[haraways]

Jonsa Halloween Event ~

~~For the prompt Magic - here is my entry~~

@jonsa-halloween

Magic -

There was a lady of Winterfell. 

Who had a gift.

Most parents are thrilled if their child is gifted; they may draw, play music, memorize books or fight with swords. 

But the girl's parents were scared. Scared of her and scared for her.

As it happens, the girl's gift is the gift of life. Life for the new dead, life for the long dead. Wounds would heal, and the body would be restored, but the mind is what stayed damaged. There is no natural way to have the dead rise again.

That emotion that you die with will come back will faster within your breast until it drives you to the madness once more.

A girl of ten and one discovers her gifs in the crypts of her family, Kings and Queens and Lords and Ladies long gone. 

She sings her sweet song of nonsense, and it wafts through the miles of Starks long gone from the world. The young girl is trying to be brave as she wanders between statues; her siblings and cousin have deemed her craven, and she would prove them otherwise; she would be brave like those ladies in the songs. 

She is to stay down in the dark until her candle is gone, a few hours at best. It wasn’t so bad; down in the dark, there was nothing here but an odd rat. 

Further, the little girl wandered. Until the faces of the statues began to fade, and their iron swords had near rusted to nothing. She had gone so far as to pass the Lords and come upon Kings. The Kings of Winter, on each of their heads, sits a circlet of bronze. Some have runes; others have designs of winter. All too big for little girls though she desperately wants to place it upon her own head. 

She wandered very far, down slopes and around corners singing softly and sweetly to her dead ancestors hoping the song finds them in the long after. It is down a narrow path that strangeness begins to occur. 

The girl heard a stone skipping on stone and the flutter of fabric. A terror rises in her throat, halting her sweet song. And slowly echoing footsteps fill the cavern. She raises the candle higher to see who lurks with her in the dark, but she does not dare call out. The shadows dance across the walls, and it is with a bizarre thought she thinks that if it is danger coming her way that, they will see her light. She snuffs it out with her breath. 

The footsteps stop.

 Her heart beats too loudly in her ears as she makes her way behind the wolf of a king whose name has been scratched away. She was too scared to think about the oddness of that. 

Her ragged breath began to calm after a few minutes of hiding. Perhaps it was her imagination, as it does tend to wander and get lost far away. It would not be the first time she had frightened herself of shadows.  

“Why are you crouching behind a wolf?”

Sansa let out a scream that echoed through the crypts, bouncing and reverberating off the walls. She was a lady, but she could not help it when she hit whoever was behind her, whispering in her era. She scrambled away from the person, falling on her bottom in her haste to get away. 

A light laugh followed her as her cousin, the Bastard Prince Jon, stepped out from behind the wolf statue. He was rubbing at his jaw where Sansa had managed to strike him. 

Her horror grew at the realization of her actions. She was but a girl on ten and one, but she knew not to ever raise your hand to royalty, bastard or not. 

She babbled out apologies, and she made to get up but stumbled. Prince Jon reached out to steady her as a true gentleman would. She stepped out of his reach and dipped into a plight bow.

“I’m sorry, my Prince. You frightened me.” 

Prince Jon turned his head and frowned a little. Before smiling slightly at her after turning back.

“It is no trouble, cousin. It is my own fault for sneaking up on you, and I should not have done so. Now I know it's as unwise as pulling the wolf's tail.” His small smile bloomed into a full grin, and Sansa felt her ears grow hot. It was nice to have her compared to a wolf rather than the fish of her mother. 

Sansa was glad that the Prince did not take offence to her assault, unladylike as it was. Perhaps he wouldn’t tell her mother and save her a thrashing. 

“My Prince,” now that the fright was gone, she did wonder as to why he was down here. “Why are you down here?”

“You were gone so long, My lady, your brother grew worried, and I’m here to escort you out lest we miss dinner.” he extended his hand out to her. She reached out but stopped to turn her head to look deeper into the darkness. Her brow furrowed.

“Did you hear that?” she whispered.

It was the sound of shifting stone. The deep scratch sound of heavy stone moving over heavy stone. Echoing around the crypts, bouncing off the wall down the history of the Starks and their Kings. Louder and louder still, it grew, and with it, a great shacking.

Sansa yelped as she pulled to the Prince. He had taken up a rusted iron sword in his hand, a King's sword of no name. The lid of the coffins beside them began to move, adding to the sound that was further down the passage.  It fell to the side and cracked.

Sansa left out a shrike as a body rose up slowly. The dead King's skin was dry and gray; some parts of him had no flesh at all but white bone exposed to the world. The deep frost that had permeated the ground of the North had kept the King from truly rotting away, even if he was a King of ages before the dragons.  

Jon pushed her back more as he followed her. Never turning away from the dead rising again. Sansa knew he was trying to be brave, but she could see his hand shaking as he held the sword out and pointed at the dead. 

But the dead batted the sword away and spoke.

“Watch your self boy. Don’ go paintin’ that sword at King's” 

All breath left them, and they both let out screams.

[alimak]

The Way You Care

MASTERLIST

It is always a new experience when I am with her.

Mommy Marj is my grandmother from my mother’s side. She is the most hard-working woman I have ever seen, aside from Mama (grandmother from father’s side). She works at PLDT and has currently opened a new business. Though she is my grandmother, there is yet for me to learn about her.

All my life I have been living on my father’s side of the family and I am mostly raised by my Mama. I was unsure what happened with my mother because I was young when she left. But, when I was six years old, I met her. At that time, I was unsure of who she was because my father never mentioned of her before, but she told me I was her Lola. It was before Christmas when she came to my house and invited me to their home. She gave me a toy called Paradise Series and I happily played it with my second oldest brother. After that day, I continuously met them and I also met my oldest brother, which made my life more sensible.

After years passed by I learned something from my brothers. They call her Mommy. It was quite new for me to have someone call their grandmother what you call your own mother. I am still quite getting used to it—though for now, I call her Mama, like how I call my grandmother (father's mother). She also calls me anak, whilst I am used to being called apo by my father’s parents. But, it does not bother me because it felt special. Moreover, it touched my heart after knowing that Mommy Marj has my birthday on her calendar. It made me feel that she really does care about me, despite not being raised by her or having any closeness whatsoever. Whenever my birthday arrives, she would call me and bring me cake or ask what my father and grandmother prepared for my birthday. I always feel thankful for having such a caring grandmother like her.

We went to Nagcarlan this year, after my recognition in eleventh grade. They had a farm there and we were to stay there for three days. In those days, I learned a lot from her–personality-wise. She is a very positive person. She also listens to K-pop and pop music. I was also surprised to see that she enjoys rap music too. She is the very opposite of Mama, and I loved every bit of it. I also found out that she speaks Bisaya and she speaks it with their helper. I wanted to ask her if she could teach me some, but I was too shy. On the other hand, she also made an effort to set up an inflatable swimming pool so we could freshen up from the heat. I admired her for all of that. I once wrote an entry in my journal with lists of goals that I would like to accomplish this year. One of those is to become more close with her. I reckon that the universe listened because she opened a new stall at the end of our street, which helped me to spend time and help her with her business. She was selling her preloved clothes and some Christmas decorations. I go there every weekend and do anything yhat could help her. She always greets me with a happy face and it makes my day even better.

When we were assigned a task to draw for our character sketch, I knew it would be a perfect gift to give to Mommy Marj this Christmas. I used her profile picture as a reference. It was apparently an old picture of her. As I look into it, her features have not changed at all. She had the same hair, the same smile, and the same aura. I wish I could grow old like her. Her Facebook bio also says, “A lover of the finer things in life…”, which explains everything about her. A very admirable person.

Indeed, Mommy Marj proves to me that lolas are the best.

I am so thankful to her for the day when she reconnected with me when I was six years

old. She filled all the roles that my mother never complied to, even to my brothers. Because of it,

I promise to spend more time with her until her bones weakens and when her memory begins to

fade. I will also make her proud when I become a psychologist and a lawyer.

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