#and then it is silent for THAT split second

[amnxp]

Thinkin about you

Pairing: Jason todd x fem!reader

Summary:Jason just came home from a long mission and he just can‘t seem to fucking find you in your apartment.

Warning: panic attacks, kissing yk the usual

Wordcount: 2.1k

A/N: had to pump something out since ill see you in a minute is taking a little backseat also abril dont use Frank Ocean songs as your title challenge GO all aside guys i have 100 followers thats insane!!the other day i was just celebrating having 20??? Now100????TYSM:^^

Aight Toodles!

Masterlist

ENGLISH IS NOT MY NATIVE LANGUAGE BE AWARE!

Jason kicked the door shut behind him, the weight of two weeks undercover in Narrows scum clinging to his shoulders like a second skin.

He was still in his tactical gear, boots scuffed, knuckles split, lip blood red and rse from him biting it too much and helmet hanging from his fingertips. All he wanted was a goddamn shower and to find you curled up on the couch, half-asleep in one of his old shirts, perhaps waiting on him even when he clearly told you he didn‘t know when he would return, something playing low on the TV that you weren’t really watching.

But the apartment was silent. Still. Too still. He frowned.

“Babe?” he called, his voice hoarse. Nothing. Not even the sound of you rustling around in the tiny-ass kitchen that barely had space for both your bodies when he pressed you against the counter. “You here?”

No answer.

He dropped the helmet onto the couch with a dull thud, scanning the living room- small, lived-in, your touch on everything. Blanket thrown over the armrest. Mug on the coffee table. One of your socks under the edge of the couch. The place looked like you'd just stepped out for a second. But his gut told him otherwise.

Jason moved fast when he was worried. But now in your way too small apart he was bumping into the walls. Bootsteps heavy as he checked the bedroom, the bathroom, the closet you both swore you'd clean out last week. Nothing. No bag missing. No note. No message on his phone, not that he’d had service the last two days. "Goddammit..." he muttered, raking a hand through his hair. The apartment barely fit him on a good day — hell, it barely fit both of you, and that was half the charm. But now it just felt... empty. Wrong. Where the fuck were you? He felt his heart start to race and his breaths start to leave him in short, quick, strong breaths that hurt. Before he could start ripping the walls off of your apartment because maybe-just maybe-you were hiding underneath them as a prank a new thought entered his messed up brain. Maybe joker got to you. Maybe Joker got to….you. And he swore to whatever entity above if joker got his hands on you he would tear Gotham from limb to limb until there were ashes left in place of the godforsaken city. His shaking hands fiddled with his phone to try and call Dick. Dick was still on patrol sround the area maybe he could go out and search for you as Jason gets every weapon known and unknown to mankind to torture any of Joker‘s goons for information because any other explanation wouldn‘t make sense to him.

He has you. He has you. He has you.

And maybe you were already dead.

His phone fell from his trembling hands as he tried to pick it up again but his heart was beating too fast his hands were shaking too much snd they were too sweaty snd everything just fucking hurt and why the fuck weren‘t you here? On his knees now his hands found his hair as he digged into the strands.

„Jay?“

His head snapped over his shoulder towards the door and there you stood. Key in hand and your eyebrows furrowed and not a fucking worry in sight about maybe perhaps being captured by the Joker. If Jason couldn‘t breathe before right now he certainly couldn‘t.

His eyes glossed over and he parted his lips to speak but before he could even think of saying anything you quickly close the door behind you, mindful not to actually slam it shut, and rush towards him as you land on your knees before him. His face contores into a small grimace as your knees scrape against the rough hard wood floor you had. Your nimble hands cradle his face and he can see your mouth moving but he can’t hear anything. His ears are ringing and everything around him was going in and out of focus. All he could actually focus on was you. Your thumbs brushed over the stubble on his cheeks as you tried to get him to look at you- really look at you.

“Jay. Jay, baby? Baby, breathe. It‘s Okay.” Your voice cut through the white noise like a lifeline, soft but urgent and in a whisper, your fingers slipping into his hair replacing his rough ones that pulled at the strands just to ground him.

His lips trembled. You were warm. Solid. Alive. And he was going to throw up.

Jason surged forward, his arms wrapping around you so tight it knocked the air out of your lungs, but you didn’t care and you were quite sure that he didn‘t either. You held him just as tightly, if not more. He buried his face in your shoulder and breathed. In. Out. In again. It was messy, shaky, and uneven, but the scent of you — familiar, grounding — was enough to make the world tilt back into focus. Slowly.

"I thought-" His voice cracked. “I thought he had you.”

You felt it then — the wet heat of tears hitting your skin. He had cried in front of you before. Many nights where his nightmares were just too real for him to bear alone. He would softly wake you up snd you would hold him as he silently weot into you and you never judged him. Not him or his past. You closed your eyes and pressed your lips to his temple.

“I just went outside for a second,” you whispered. “We were out of coffee. You always want coffee when you get back from a job. I wanted to get you some but i forgot my wallet. Kinda glad i did right now“ a soft chuckle escapes you.

Jason shook his head against you, still holding on like letting go might undo you, might unmake you and all the fragile peace you brought into his chaos. “Didn’t see a message. Nothing. Place was too quiet. I-I thought…”

“I know.” You combed your fingers through his hair again, slow and soothing, like you’d done on the nights the nightmares were too loud. “You’ve been out there too long. Everything feels wrong when you come back.” You place your chin ontop of his hand as you keep ranking through the back of his head.

“It wasn’t just that,” he choked out. “I felt it. That...in my chest. The panic. I couldn’t breathe. You weren’t here. I thought it was like that time. I thought-fuck, I don’t even know what I thought, just that it was happening again. I was there again with him..”

In that warehouse.

With death.

You tightened your grip around him.

“I’m not going anywhere, Jay,” you said. “You hear me? You could raze Gotham to the ground looking for me, and I’d still come home to you.” He laughed then, but it was hollow, cracked down the middle, his forehead pressing hard against the crook of your neck. “Don’t say that. You shouldn’t have to come home to this.”

You didn’t say anything for a beat. Just held him. Let him collapse without shame. Because you knew better than anyone that Jason Peter Todd was the strongest man known. But even steel buckles under enough pressure.

Eventually, you pulled back, hands moving to cup his face again. His eyes were bloodshot. His skin, pale. His lip, cracked. He looked wrecked. Destroyed. “C’mon,” you murmured gently. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He shook his head in a frenzy. “I don’t want to move.”

“We don’t have to go far,” you promised. “Just the bathroom. I’ll draw you a bath. And we can sit. That’s it. Just sit me and you.”

You guided him up slowly, carefully, mindful of how unsteady he was on his feet, when you realised you wouldn‘t get another answer out of him. His grip never left you — one hand tangled in the fabric of your hoodie, the other on your waist. Like if he let go, the floor might open up and swallow him whole and he would be back there.

In the bathroom, you flicked the lights on and turned the faucet. The water hissed into the tub, and the steam quickly filled the room. Jason stood behind you, leaning against the sink. You turned and reached for the hem of his suit. Only now did you realize that he still had it on.

He flinched.

“Hey.” Your voice was soft, coaxing. “It’s me.” Jason closed his eyes. Breathed in again.

Bruises, fresh and healing, littered his torso like a road map of violence. The jagged scar near his ribs — the one that never fully faded — was red around the edges. You didn’t ask if he’d reopened it. You already knew. He had this tendency when he got anxious that he would just sit and scratch away at all of his scars as if it would make them dissapear. He didn’t speak, not for a long while, until your fingers ghosted too gently over one of the deeper cuts.

“I thought I lost you,” he murmured, eyes distant, fixed on the tile.

“You didn’t,” you said. “You won’t.”

“You say that like it’s a guarantee.”

You met his gaze. “You’re not the only one who fights to hold on, Jason. I may not be out there on rooftops or in back alleys, but I fight every day to be here. With you. You think I’d let some clown-faced asshole take that away from me? Take you away from me? I wasn‘t there the first time and i won‘t let it happen a second time.”

He let out a shaky breath, “I love you.”

The words didn’t tumble from him often. Not because he didn’t feel them, but because he felt them too much. Too deeply. Like they were fragile, and precious, and terrifying all at once.

You stepped closer and pressed your forehead to his.

“I love you too,” you whispered. “Now get in that tub before your muscles lock up like last time.” He groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

You helped him in and sat nearby, cross-legged on the bathroom floor. The bathwater lapped gently at the porcelain as Jason let himself sink deeper, the tension in his shoulders finally starting to bleed away.

A long silence stretched between you.

Then,

“You really went for coffee?”

You smiled. “Yeah. And those snacks you like.”

He blinked. “The spicy cheese ones?” You nodded. Jason tilted his head back and let out something between a sigh and a laugh. “I really do love you.” “You better. I’m the one who’s gonna be dealing with the tub drain full of your blood and war grime.”

He huffed. “Romantic.”

“Always.”

Afterward, wrapped in a towel and wearing the old hoodie of his you’d swiped years ago, Jason slumped onto the bed. You curled up beside him, throwing the blanket over both your legs.

Your head rested on his shoulder, and his arm wound around your waist, hand brushing against your side absently, like he still needed to reassure himself you were real. That you were there.

“I hate what this city does to me,” he said quietly.

You looked up. Jason frowned.

“How it makes you feel, Jay. How it makes you scared. That’s not weakness. That’s love. That’s being human.”

He was quiet again for a moment. “I couldn‘t stand living without you here. I think i would have gone mad.“ You shifted in his hold.

His eyes met yours.

“You don‘t have to worry about that.,” you said. “You came home, Jay. To me. Snd i will always be there for you..”

He leaned down and kissed you then. Soft. Barely there. But it lingered.

“Don’t ever disappear on me again,” he said against your lips. You pulled back just enough to smirk. “Only if you promise not to assume I’ve been Joker-napped every time I step out.”

Jason exhaled slowly, the ghost of a smile on his face. “Can’t promise that.”

“I’ll settle for a text next time you’re off-grid.” “I’ll try,” he said. And for Jason Todd, try meant more than most people’s swear.

You both layed there for a long while, tangled in each other and the quiet aftermath of panic. And while the city outside still breathed with crime and chaos, in this tiny, too-small apartment, with your heartbeat steady against his side, Jason felt maybe for the first time in weeks that he wasn’t losing everything.

That maybe, just maybe, he was allowed to have something.

Someone. You.

[cameronsbabydoll]

BASIC TRAINING — CHAPTER TWELVE

WARNINGS — Public PDA, yelling/family conflict, slut-shaming from others, possessive behavior, power imbalance, emotional intensity, references to sexual content, 18+ only.

You don’t know when it happened, when you stopped caring about the rules, the whispers, the consequences. Maybe it was the moment Rafe kissed your tears away in his bunk, his dog tags cool against your skin, his voice promising you were his forever. Maybe it was before that, when he stood silent in your dad’s office, taking the hit for you, his eyes raw with something you’d never seen before. Or maybe it was always going to happen, from the second you stepped off that van and he looked at you like you were his to ruin.

Whatever it was, you’re done hiding.

It starts small, quiet, almost accidental. You’re in the mess hall at dawn, your sundress swaying against your thighs, your hair loose because you know he likes it that way. You’re carrying a Styrofoam cup of coffee—black, no sugar, the way Rafe takes it—because you noticed he didn’t sleep last night, his eyes bloodshot when you left his bunk at 3 a.m. You shouldn’t know that. You shouldn’t be here, weaving through tables of soldiers, their forks pausing mid-bite as you pass. But you are, and when you set the coffee in front of him, his hand brushes yours, deliberate, lingering.

“Thanks, sunshine,” he says, loud enough for the table to hear, his voice low and smug, his eyes glinting with that cocky playboy charm that makes your stomach flip. He takes a sip, his lips curling into a smirk, and you feel every eye in the room on you, the whispers starting before you even turn away.

“Captain’s daughter’s got it bad,” someone mutters, not quite enough.

“Cameron’s gonna get his ass sent to the brig,” another says, louder, and there’s a snicker, sharp and mean.

You don’t look back. You don’t need to. You can feel Rafe’s gaze on you, burning through your dress, claiming you without a word. You sit at your own table, picking at a muffin, your cheeks warm but your chin high, because you’re his, and you want them to know it.

It doesn’t stop there.

By noon, you’re bolder. Reckless, maybe. You’re outside the training yard, watching Rafe run drills with his squad, his shirt clinging to his sweat-slick skin, his dog tags swinging with every lunge. He’s barking orders, all sharp edges and authority, but when he catches your eye, his mouth twitches, just enough to make your heart race. You wait until he’s done, until he’s wiping sweat off his brow, and then you walk right up to him, in front of his men, in front of everyone, and kiss him.

It’s quick, just a press of your lips to his, but it’s electric, public, undeniable. His hand grips your waist, pulling you closer for a split second before you step back, your lips tingling, your breath shallow. His men stare, some grinning, some looking away, but Rafe? He’s smug, his smirk wide and unapologetic, like he’s won something bigger than you’ll ever understand.

“Careful, sunshine,” he murmurs, loud enough for the others to hear, his hand still on your hip. “You’re gonna start a riot.”

You smile, small and defiant, and walk away, your sandals kicking up dust, your heart pounding with something like victory. You hear the murmurs—“She’s fucking Cameron,” “Captain’s gonna lose it,” “Slut’s got no shame”—and they sting, sharp and ugly, but you don’t care. Not anymore. You’re his, and he’s yours, and you’re done pretending otherwise.

The base is buzzing by evening. You feel it in the stares, the hushed conversations that stop when you walk by, the way soldiers nudge each other, their eyes flicking to your neck, your wrists, like they’re looking for more proof. You’re carrying a stack of files to the admin building, your dad’s orders, when Private Daniels—the kid who saw your hickey last week—leans against a wall, smirking.

“Moving fast, huh, Captain’s kid?” he says, loud enough to draw eyes. “Didn’t peg you for the type to spread your legs for a grunt like Cameron.”

Your face burns, and you clutch the files tighter, your voice low but steady. “Shut up, Daniels.”

He laughs, mean and sharp, and steps closer. “What, you think you’re special? He’s had half the girls on this base. You’re just the shiny new toy.”

You don’t get to respond. A shadow moves fast behind you, and suddenly Daniels is against the wall, Rafe’s forearm pressed to his throat, his eyes dark and dangerous. “Say it again,” Rafe growls, his voice low, lethal. “Go on. Talk about her like that one more time.”

Daniels chokes, his hands scrabbling at Rafe’s arm, but Rafe doesn’t budge, his grip unrelenting. “I’m sorry,” Daniels gasps, his face red, his eyes wide with fear. “I didn’t mean—”

“You don’t get to mean anything,” Rafe snaps, leaning closer, his voice dripping with venom. “You don’t get to look at her, talk about her, think about her. You understand?”

“Rafe,” you say, your voice shaking, your hand touching his back. “Stop. Please.”

He doesn’t move for a moment, his eyes locked on Daniels, but then he lets go, stepping back, his chest heaving. Daniels stumbles, coughing, and scrambles away, disappearing around the corner. The soldiers nearby are watching, silent, and you feel their judgment, their whispers—“She’s got him wrapped,” “Poor bastard’s done for.”

Rafe turns to you, his eyes softening just enough to make your chest ache. “You okay, sunshine?” he asks, his voice low, his hand brushing your arm.

You nod, but you’re not okay, not really, because you know what’s coming. You’ve pushed too far, been too bold, and your dad’s not blind. He’s the Captain. He hears everything. And when you see him storming across the courtyard, his boots slamming the ground, his face red with rage, you know the breaking point is here.

“You!” he roars, pointing at you, his voice echoing across the base. Soldiers stop, turn, stare. “Get to my office. Now.”

You freeze, your heart in your throat, but Rafe steps in front of you, his body a shield. “With all due respect, sir,” he says, voice calm but edged with steel, “she’s not the one you should be yelling at.”

Your dad’s eyes narrow, and he steps closer, his voice low and venomous. “You’ve got some balls, Cameron,” he says. “You think you can parade my daughter around like some trophy? You think you can touch her, kiss her, in front of my men, and I won’t bury you?”

Rafe doesn’t flinch, doesn’t back down, his smirk faint but there, arrogant and unyielding. “You can try, sir,” he says, and it’s not a challenge, it’s a fact, like he’s daring your dad to do his worst. “But she’s mine now. You wanna reassign me, court-martial me, do it. I’m not letting her go.”

Your dad’s face twists, and for a second, you think he’s going to hit him. His fists clench, his jaw tight, and the air crackles with tension, soldiers watching like it’s a show. “You’re a disgrace,” your dad spits, his voice shaking with rage. “A lowlife grunt who thinks he can take what’s not his. You’re done, Cameron. And you—” He turns to you, his eyes blazing. “You’re my daughter. How could you let him turn you into this? Into some… some slut who throws herself at trash like him?”

The word hits like a slap, and you flinch, tears pricking your eyes. The soldiers murmur, some laughing, some muttering—“Told you she was easy,” “Captain’s kid, my ass.” You want to disappear, to run, but Rafe’s hand finds yours, his fingers lacing through yours, grounding you.

“Don’t you talk to her like that,” Rafe says, his voice low, dangerous, his grip tightening. “You don’t get to call her that. Not now, not ever.”

Your dad steps closer, his face inches from Rafe’s, and you’re sure it’s going to end in blood. “You’re finished,” he says, voice cold. “Pack your bags. You’re out of here by morning.”

He turns to you, his eyes hard. “And you’re coming with me. You’re done here.”

“No,” you say, your voice small but steady, the first time you’ve ever defied him. “I’m not.”

Your dad freezes, his eyes widening, like he can’t believe you’d dare. “What did you say?”

“I’m not leaving him,” you say, louder now, your hand tight in Rafe’s. “I love him.”

The words hang in the air, raw and exposed, and you feel Rafe’s hand twitch, his breath catching. The soldiers go silent, the whispers stopping, and your dad’s face goes white, then red, like he’s going to explode.

“You don’t know what love is,” he says, voice shaking with fury. “You’re a child. He’s using you, and you’re too stupid to see it.”

Rafe steps forward, his body tense, but you pull him back, your hand on his chest. “Don’t,” you whisper, because you know he’ll fight, know he’ll bleed for you, and you can’t let him. Not now.

Your dad turns and storms off, his boots echoing, and you’re left standing there, Rafe’s hand in yours, the base watching, judging. You hear the whispers again—“She’s done for,” “Cameron’s fucked,” “What a slut”—but you don’t care. You’re shaking, tears streaming, but you’re still holding Rafe’s hand, and he’s still smirking, smug and proud, like he’s won.

“You meant that?” he asks, voice low, his eyes searching yours. “What you said?”

You nod, your throat tight, your heart full. “Yeah,” you whisper. “I meant it.”

He pulls you close, right there in the courtyard, in front of everyone, and kisses you, deep and possessive, his hands on your waist, his lips claiming you. The soldiers whistle, some jeer, but he doesn’t care, and neither do you. You’re his, and he’s yours, and the whole world can know it.

[diabolikwriter]

Sarang/Love

Part I - Meeting

Tags: Creeps being Creeps, protectiveness, mates, poly! Relationship, crying, first meeting,

This is a short first part, I’m still kinda rusty (It’s been a couple of years since the last time I wrote something non-academic). I hope you guys find this satisfying, I might do some changes here and there, but hope you enjoy!

Running through the streets, you were wondering how your day had ended up like this:

The day had started as it normally did, you awoke to the sound of your alarm going off at 7 AM. You got out of bed, brushed your teeth and got dressed before going out to the nearest cafe and getting your morning coffee and some breakfast.

After you had enjoyed your breakfast, you went to the library and studied for your university class for a couple of hours before you decided to get some fresh air and lunch.

Though that was when it had gone down hill. Upon leaving the library you had bumped into a normal looking business man, except there was something off about him.

“Oh sorry I didn’t see you” you apologised,

“It’s fine darling, but if you want you can apologise for it by coming home with me and entertaining me and my friends.”. Slowly a couple of other guys had started creeping up, their grins making chills runs down your spine, thoughts were racing in your head as they closed in on her, until instincts as old as time kicked in and you ran.

Now as you were running through the streets, you couldn’t help but feel thankful for the years you had spent playing handball. Your stamina was good enough that you could just about keep the men away, but if you didn’t find somewhere to hide and rest soon, then you didn’t dare to think about what those men would do to you.

Turning around the corner you ran into something warm and solid, and hands cradled you close. The scent surrounding you was warm and comforting, embracing you and making you feel safe. When you looked up at the source of the scent, you were met with a pair of brown eyes, which shockingly seemed to shine gold for a split second.

“Are you alright?”, the voice asking you made warmth coil in your stomach and making you clench your thighs together.

“Y-yeah, sorry I’m kinda in a hurry”, growls and groans broke out from both sides of you, which alerted you to the four other guys near you. Guys she had seen before… oh. The Saja Boys.

You looked back at the person you had bumped into, and yep it was Jinu, the two guys right next to him were Abby and Baby, and beside each of them stood Mystery and Romance.

“Hey! There she is!”, the voice of the man you had bumped into earlier, and desperately were trying to get away from, cut through your realisation.

“Oi! We found her first, go find another girl, this one is coming home with us.” The group of men which had chased you was closing in on you and the Saja Boys, all of which growled at the approaching men.

Abby and Baby stepped towards the men, while Mystery, Romance and Jinu prevented you from seeing them, and shielding you from their view at the same time. “We don’t care about some shitty idols, just give us the girl, man!” One of the men said, even though he could feel the charged energy from the Saja Boys. The very fragile calm was ruined the moment a sob forced itself out of your throat, the air became charged with something dangerous, and it felt as if time stood still and the arms around you tightened. You could see looks being passed between the members of the boy-band, and it seemed as if they came to an agreement because shortly after pained shrieks could be heard before it went silent.

“Shh, don’t cry sweet girl, everything is okay now.”, Abby gently said, which made you cry even harder from the realisation that if you hadn’t bumped into these guys, you would probably have been taken by the men chasing you and had to be put through unspeakable things. “It’s okay, you’re safe now”, assured Romance, but before more could be said, a whine came from your lips and your legs gave out from underneath her.

“It’s starting now, we need to get her somewhere safe.”, noted Baby.

“Yeah, you’re right, we need to get her to safety, keep her hidden, healthy, we must protect her, make her ours in all ways.” Growled Abby, his eyes glowing golden and his lilac marks became visible, the other guys weren’t faring any better, but then Jinu interrupted their various fantasies playing in their heads, “stop. Calm down, all of you. This isn’t just some random woman, she is OURS and we will treat her with the utmost respect and care.” His voice was stern and left no room for discussion, “we will take her with us, put her in my room and get her through the first wave, without anything untowards being done, before we ask for her consent.” With that final statement Abby gathered you in his arms and carried you back to their apartment.

Taglist: @gremlinartstudio @permanenceimp @faerie-soirxx @cottonheadedninnymugggins @amery-benson-cvii

[bronzealchemy]

⋆˙⟡ falling for xavier

at first you didn’t know what to think of xavier. he was too mysterious, too quiet … until he wasn’t. the quietness turned into hour long talks. or time which you spent in each others presence without talking. you never had someone who you could be silent with. it made all the talks with him more special. it took you time to fully trust him. but he understood – and kept your trust close to his chest like the most precious treasure. 

one night, the two of you sat on his balcony, watching the stars. xavier laughed about something you said … and that was the moment in which it clicked. you looked at him, at his beaming smile, at his beautiful eyes, his melodic laugh in your ears, and you realized: you loved him. you were in love with him.

xavier raised his brows. „what is it?“, he inquired.

heat crept into your cheeks. you avoided his gaze, looking up at the stars again. „nothing.“ 

he poked your cheek. „tell me.“

you shook your head. „I can’t.“ 

„you can tell me anything.“ 

you looked at him again. there was a little wrinkle between his brows, his eyes full of curiosity. your heartbeat fastened. „not this time, I fear.“

hurt crossed his face, only for a split second, but you didn’t like it one bit. your body acted on it’s own – you reached for him, softly grazing the space between his brows, making the worried wrinkle disappear. his eyes took on a look you never saw before: dark and full of promises you didn’t think were possible. heat flooded your whole body. 

„don’t look at me like that.“ the words left your lips way too breathless. 

he cocked his head to the side. „like what?“ 

„like … you know exactly how you look at me!“, you exclaimed, gesturing to his whole face and body. xavier grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers with his. your breath hitched at the sudden contact. his thumb caressed the back of your hand. warmth spread from where his skin touched yours. 

„I look like that“, he said, raising your hand do his face and nuzzling it softly. „because I like you.“

your heart skipped a beat. „you do?“

„yes“, he answered matter of factly. „I like you very much.“ 

you decided to be brave then and there. a moment later you leaned forward and kissed him. it was a small peck, not particularly skilled. but when you leaned back again, xaviers smile was brighter than the whole sky full of stars.

next thing you knew, he was the one kissing you. and he didn’t stop for a long time, drinking all the unspoken words directly from your lips. 

[gyubakeries]

𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗺𝗲 | k.sy

a/n: i kid you not. this fic was busted out in like 24 hours. dont ask how im capable of this sorcery bcs idk myself. on a much more angsty note, soonyoung im so sorry ilysm :( writing angst is my default mode, and i had literally no other ideas. writing this fic was a wild journey, and a little part of me broke because of all this angst, but maybe im just dramatic

thank you ro ( @shinysobi ) for telling me i should twin with our fics, because writing angst is like second nature. thank you rae ( @nerdycheol ) and yuki ( @eclipsaria ) for jumping onto this shipwreck with me and helping me save it (also for being my personal google throughout this fic) major shout-out to kirsten ( @naniwatig3r ) for coming in clutch with the finishing touch i needed to end this monster of a fic.

lastly, thank you bella ( @bella-feed ), sana ( @sanaxo-o ) and catalina ( @dokyumms ) for hosting this event and giving me a chance to write this fic! im usually always writing mingyu, so this was a good challenge :)

word count: 7.8k contents: soonyoung x f!reader , idol!au , idol!soonyoung , designer!reader , inspired by the song if you leave me by seventeen , angst , lots of angst , two (2) angsty rain scenes because rae encouraged me , friends to maybe lovers to wtf is happening dawg , reader is not likable , reader lives in self destruct mode , hurt no comfort , no happy ending , sorry hoshi my tiger baby

soonyoung is never the first one to leave the practice room. he’s the one that stays back after everyone’s gone home, practicing every step of the choreography down to it’s finest details.

lately, however, jihoon has been noticing the way soonyoung is the first to pack his things and leave the practice room, and it confuses him.

he doesn’t probe into this unusual behaviour. the smile soonyoung has on his face as he runs out is something he hasn’t seen much of either, so he lets it slide.

today, too, jihoon sees seungcheol walk up to soonyoung to invite him over for dinner and drinks, but soonyoung barely gives much of an explanation before he’s shaking his head, grabbing his bag, and leaving the room.

“weird boy,” seungcheol mutters to himself, and jihoon couldn’t agree any less.

. . . . .

“y/n! wait up!” a loud yell stops you in your tracks, and you turn to see someone run towards you, their hair covered with a cap, and a mask hiding their face.

other people walking past you on the sidewalk wouldn’t be able to recognize the person, but you could easily tell from the worn-out pink flannel shirt and the expensive sneakers that it was kwon soonyoung, a.k.a hoshi from seventeen, calling out your name.

“you idiot! why are you yelling in the middle of the street,” you whisper-yell when soonyoung is close enough to hear you. “what if someone recognizes you?”

“don’t worry, i’ll take care of it,” he replies, as enthusiastic as ever. “i’m sorry i’m running late, dance practice took a lot of time to wrap up. shall we go?”

it takes you a split second too long to realize that soonyoung is now holding your wrist and gently tugging you along with him towards the restaurant you both are now very familiar with. any other day, you would’ve told him to stop instantly, but today for some reason, you let your hand be held by the person you want but can’t have.

seokmin is sure he’s never seen soonyoung like this: prescription glasses hanging off his nose, new tablet clutched in his hands, and his tired body sprawled across the couch in his apartment. even his flatmate, hansol, shrugs his shoulders when seokmin silently gestures towards soonyoung.

“dokyeom-ah, i need your help with something,” soonyoung calls out, and seokmin warily approaches him, taking a seat on the couch and leaning over soonyoung’s shoulder to take a look at his screen.

“what are you doing?” seokmin asks, thoroughly confused by the poster displayed on soonyoung’s screen. “don’t tell me you’re leaving seventeen to become a graphic designer.”

“and leave you in BSS with seungkwan? no chance,” soonyoung laughs. “you have a good eye for designs and stuff, so i needed your opinion on this. doesn’t it look like it’s missing something?”

“what is this even for?” seokmin questions, eyes running over the words on the poster. “do you have a side hustle at a magazine?”

“it’s…. for a friend,” soonyoung says, not revealing much. “i told them i’d help them out, and i need you for that. i’ll buy you dinner tomorrow if you help, please?”

seokmin agrees easily, but he can’t help but wonder which friend of soonyoung’s is so close to him that they have him designing posters. he also can’t stop thinking about how soonyoung’s face had turned pink at the mention of this ‘friend.’

seokmin wonders if soonyoung’s friend is just a friend.

. . . . .

“this is genius,” you say, looking at the file soonyoung sent you. in the seat across from you, soonyoung squirms with happiness, his chest swelling with pride. “you really didn’t have to do all this, soonyoung. i thought you said you were only going to look for inspo pictures on pinterest.”

“i just had a random stroke of creativity,” soonyoung shrugs. “it’s not that big of a deal. besides, i haven’t forgotten about our deal.”

your shoulders deflate with the sigh you let out. “soonyoung, i never agreed to that deal. you know we can’t— we can’t be like that. and if you’re getting the wrong idea from all this, we can’t keep meeting anymore.”

you don’t think you’ve seen this much fear in soonyoung’s eyes, not since his trainee days, when he wasn’t sure if he’d even debut. but today, he looks scared, almost desperate, when he places his hand over yours just as you’re about to leave the table.

“don’t. don’t leave,” he shakes his head. “i’ll stop with the deal and everything, i promise. just don’t say you won’t let me see you anymore.”

you don’t hesitate to agree, not when every muscle in your body keeps you rooted to the chair at the restaurant that has seen you more than your parents have.

when soonyoung walks you home later that night, you almost blurt out an apology, but you know that apologizing for your own cowardice only proves that it’s real.

“are you done taking what you need?” junhui asks, looking down the aisle to see soonyoung waddling towards him, arms full of snacks and drinks.

“yep! all done,” soonyoung nods, carefully placing all the items in his arms in the basket junhui is carrying.

“when i said i’d pay for you, i didn’t intend on buying out the entire snack aisle,” junhui sighs, carrying the basket over to the cashier and placing it on the counter with a loud thud.

“you love me, and so does your wallet,” soonyoung replies with a cheeky grin, making exaggerated pouty faces at junhui.

junhui only rolls his eyes at soonyoung. he watches the cashier scan every item, when he notices something unfamiliar.

“wait, did you accidentally get the sour lemon gummies? i thought you didn’t like sour stuff?” junhui asks, and soonyoung’s eyes widen like he’s been caught stealing food off mingyu’s plate.

“it’s not for me,” soonyoung replies awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. he’s saved from further questioning when the cashier reads out the total bill amount and junhui fishes his wallet out from his pocket.

later, when they’re outside the convenience store, junhui reaches into the grocery bag to retrieve the lemon gummies. “so, who is this for? is it your token of appreciation for me?”

“you wish,” soonyoung scoffs, snatching the packet out of junhui’s hands. “it’s for someone else.”

“and is this ‘someone’ the ‘friend’ you were helping out last week?” junhui raises an eyebrow at him. “seokmin told me about it.”

“how does it matter even if it is?” soonyoung crosses his arms defensively. “they’re just a friend, that’s all.”

the sigh that leaves soonyoung’s mouth after that sentence makes junhui think that maybe a friendship isn’t what soonyoung wants from his ‘friend.’

. . . . .

“wait, you remembered i like these?” you gasp, seeing the packet of lemon-flavoured jellies in soonyoung’s hands when he meets you at your usual restaurant. 

“well, friends remember things about each other,” soonyoung states matter-of-factly. “good friends do at least, because you don’t seem to remember a thing about me.”

“i never said i was going to be a good friend to you,” you retort, holding back a laugh at soonyoung’s unconscious pout when you tease him. “anyway, i didn’t say i needed any help today. why did you ask me to meet you for dinner?”

“you came, didn’t you?” soonyoung challenges. “it’s a routine for me now, anyway, and i didn’t feel like breaking it.”

you feel taken aback momentarily, realizing that no matter how much you’re always shutting down soonyoung’s advances, you almost always say yes to him. clearing your throat, you say, “since you called me, it’s your treat.”

“i don’t mind paying,” soonyoung chuckles. “go on, order whatever you want.”

after dinner, and after soonyoung has walked you back to your house, you lay in bed and stare up at the ceiling. your phone is lazily clutched in your hand, fingers itching to pull up soonyoung’s contact and text him, i remember. i remember things about you. i remember the way you scrunch your nose when you want to stop yourself from sneezing, the way you push your hair back with your hands when you feel frustrated, the way you smile at someone when you’re in love with them.

—

to: kwon soonyoung

i remember how much i loved you| i remember how much|

i remember|

dinner on monday? need to design the monthly magazine’s cover page

sent at 2:46 a.m.

from: kwon soonyoung

i’ll be there :) 

sent at 2:47 a.m.

“what are your dinner plans?” minghao asks soonyoung. the fitting for their upcoming tour outfits just got over, and all the members are leaving in groups for dinner.

“nothing much,” soonyoung shrugs. “want to go get kimchi jjigae?”

there’s a good restaurant at a walking distance from the hybe building, but the heavy rain pouring down when they’re about to exit the building makes minghao and soonyoung take one of the company cars to the restaurant instead.

they’re in the elevator alone, going down to the basement, when minghao decides that it’s a good time to interrogate soonyoung on his recent behaviour.

“you know, everyone’s been thinking you’re acting… different,” minghao starts casually, not wanting to alarm soonyoung abruptly. “is everything alright?”

“what? i’m still the same,” soonyoung laughs. “more importantly, why have you all been discussing me?”

“we’re not discussing,” minghao shakes his head, the elevator doors opening to the basement. “you’re just acting unusual, and we’re noticing it. if you wanna talk about it, you can—”

“wait, what date is it today?” soonyoung interrupts him just as they’re about to open the doors to the car. 

“uh, the twenty-eighth,” minghao says, checking his phone, and he watches how soonyoung’s face drains of all color as he realizes something important.

“shit, i need to go,” soonyoung mutters to himself, pulling out his phone and rapidly typing something on his screen.

“go where? i’ll drop you off,” minghao offers, but his words fall on deaf ears. soonyoung is already running back to the elevators, which take him up to the lobby of the building, and out on the street.

the rain doesn’t let up in the slightest, but soonyoung doesn’t seem to care much about it as minghao watches him run like a madman when the car pulls out on the street.

he should lower his window and yell at soonyoung to get in the car, but he’s never seen him this frantic to get somewhere. minghao decides to trust soonyoung’s crazy antics this time, and silently shakes his head at the driver when he asks if soonyoung needs to be picked up.

. . . . .

“is this what good friends do?” a scoff from you has soonyoung’s heart crumbling. “you left me waiting here in the rain, on my birthday, and you couldn’t even call, or text—”

“it’s not like you’re waiting for it!” a cornered soonyoung isn’t a rational one, and the words leave him before he can process them. “you’re always telling me how i shouldn’t be meeting you, have feelings for you, or contact you, yet you’re the one giving me shit for not texting you?”

“i just—i assumed you’d show up,” your voice is considerably softer, now that you really understand what soonyoung is saying. the loud rain doesn’t do much to mask your voice, however, because soonyoung hears you loud and clear.

“well, that’s where you’re wrong,” soonyoung chuckles mirthlessly. “you’ve just taken me for  granted all over again, y/n. you think that you can get me to do whatever you want just because i like you and you know i’ll never say no. i’m really fucking tired of all this.”

“soonyoung, it’s not like that—”

“i don’t want to hear another stupid explanation from you, not when you’re always deflecting whenever we get close to being something real,” soonyoung cuts you off. “you’re always the one making decisions for me, for us, and i’m done with that. my feelings for you are my own, and you can’t tell me i’m wrong or that i can’t have them.”

at this point, the salty tears running down your face can’t be differentiated from the raindrops hitting your skin, but you keep your head bowed down, so that soonyoung can’t see your tears. despite not looking at him, you can still tell that soonyoung himself is crying, if his choked voice and hurt tone are anything to go by.

“you’re not going to say anything?” soonyoung tries, and he sounds like he’s giving up now. “why can’t you just take the chance with me? why won’t you trust that i’ll do anything to keep you safe?”

“go home, soonyoung,” is all you say, gathering the courage to look him in the eye. “you’re going to get sick, and with the tour—”

“you don’t give a fuck about the tour, and you certainly don’t care for me either, so cut the crap,” soonyoung sounds angry, and you know he has all the right to. “if i go home now, without anything from you, it’s the last you’re going to see of or hear from me.”

those words have you snapping your head up. you look at soonyoung, fists clenched and teeth gritted together. the image of an younger, much happier soonyoung is superimposed on top of the version of soonyoung you see in front of you, and he looks entirely different. 

you don’t see the carefree, happy, and silly soonyoung anymore. you see a man who you’ve managed to break with how much you’ve pushed him away. you see a man who’s scared to love you, even though that’s all he’s done for all these years.

you see the results of your own cowardice, and you know that the bravest thing you could do is end things, right then and there.

“goodnight, soonyoung,” you say, not caring that you’re letting your facade finally slip in front of him when your voice cracks under the weight of your emotions. “i won’t bother you anymore.”

you don’t have to look at him to visualise the look of betrayal and heartbreak on his face, but you sneak a glance anyway, and it’s just as heart-wrenching as you expected it to be. still, despite every inch of your body wanting to stay here, with him, you force yourself to turn around and walk away.

you’re not sure if soonyoung sees the way your shoulders shake when you finally give in and sob loudly. you’re not sure if soonyoung hears the thousands of apologies leaving your lips in broken whispers. but you do hope that soonyoung doesn’t; you’ve already hurt him enough.

“where have you been?” seungkwan gasps when he sees soonyoung at his front door, soaked in water from head to toe. “minghao-hyung told me you suddenly ran away, and all of us have been trying your phone but you—”

“seungkwan-ah,” the tremble in soonyoung’s voice makes seungkwan pause his rant. “i’ve lost her for good, this time.”

“lost who?” seungkwan furrows his eyebrows. “i don’t know what you’re talking about, just come in quickly and shower. i’ll get you some dry clothes.”

within fifteen minutes, soonyoung is now seated on the couch, clean and dry, and seungkwan hands him a cup of warm milk. he sits down next to soonyoung and notices how soonyoung just stares off into space, eyes filled with a kind of sorrow he hasn’t seen before.

“is it her?” seungkwan asks, and soonyoung turns his head to meet his eyes. “the girl you were talking about when you came here?”

“y/n, yeah,” soonyoung nods. “i didn’t know you guys were talking again,” seungkwan says. “i mean, we all thought that during the break when we were trainees, she randomly disappeared without a trace.”

“i thought so too,” soonyoung admits. “but we happened to bump into each other a few months back, and—god, i feel like such an idiot for thinking that we could ever go back to the way we were before.”

“wait, backtrack,” seungkwan holds his hand up. “you’ve been seeing her for the last few months? is that why the members keep saying you’ve been acting different? tell me the whole story, kwon soonyoung.”

the last thing soonyoung wants to do is recount the details of everything that’s happened, but he doesn’t stand a chance against seungkwan’s inquisitive gaze, and so he caves.

. . . . .

you’re definitely going crazy. it’s the only rational explanation for the situation you’ve found yourself in. 

three days ago, after you left soonyoung in the rain, you had received a text from an unknown number, which went like: this is seungkwan. hyung is down with a fever. i thought you should know.

you wanted to reply and argue that you shouldn’t know about soonyoung’s health, not when your heart and mind were both ready to drop everything at once and meet soonyoung, no matter how stupid the excuse. instead, you left the message on read and spent the next three days driving yourself crazy while contemplating if you should go and apologize to soonyoung.

in the end, the part of you that craved the comfort soonyoung brought you with just his presence won, and you found yourself in front of soonyoung’s house, plastic bag filled with medicine gripped tightly in your right hand.

you raise your left hand to ring the doorbell, but something in you makes you pause. what if soonyoung doesn’t want to see you? you wouldn’t blame him, after everything you’ve put him through, but seeing disgust or hatred for you in his eyes might just be the thing that shatters your heart for good.

the thoughts running in your head are chaotic, and you wish you just had the courage to knock on his door, face him, and apologize so that he actually hears you, but you’re a mere slave to the crippling fear that fills you at the thought of wanting something real with soonyoung.

you decide against facing him. you place the bag of medicine by the door, ring the doorbell, and run towards the end of the hallway as fast as you can, hiding behind the wall to make sure soonyoung won’t see you. it’s childish and immature, but you’ve come to realize that you’re never rational when it comes to soonyoung.

you need to cover your mouth to muffle the cries leaving you when you hear soonyoung open his door, step out, and call seungkwan to ask him if he sent him any medicine.

you take that as your sign to leave, but the burning question doesn’t leave you: what would soonyoung think if he ever finds out that you were the one who brought him medicine but didn’t even have the courage to hand it over to him yourself?

your relationship with soonyoung had started many years ago, when you both were still in middle school and trying to understand long division.

back then, soonyoung was your best friend. he was the boy who always asked for an extra serving of rice at lunch, because you were too shy to. he was the boy that made sure you walked on the sidewalk when you were going back home after school. he was the boy who choreographed silly dances to make you laugh whenever you were sad.

he was the first boy you fell in love with. 

it all had happened very quickly; all the girls in your grade had started discussing crushes and boyfriends, and soonyoung was the only boy in your life who made you feel ‘butterflies in your stomach’ and ‘fireworks whenever he’d touch you.’

after that revelation, it felt like the entire world had become much sweeter. you had exchanged your glasses for rose-tinted ones, and with every moment you spent with your best friend, you only fell in deeper.

one evening, under a starry night sky, fifteen-year old you had taken the leap of faith and pressed your lips against his. it was clumsy, and his nose bumping into yours hurt, but it was the best thing to ever happen to you.

what had followed the kiss was the worst news you’d ever receive.

—

“i’m moving to seoul,” soonyoung says, his hand holding yours gently while he drops a bomb.

“what for?” you ask, and you feel a lump forming in your throat. although soonyoung hadn’t revealed much, you could tell from the way his eyes were welling up with tears that the news couldn’t be good.

“i’m leaving taekwondo for good,” he starts. “i recently got into dancing, and i love it. i want to get better at it.”

“there’s dance studios in namyangju,” you point out. “why seoul?”

“i…. i auditioned for a few companies,” soonyoung confesses, the words spilling out after weeks of being kept secret. “i got into some, and i want to…. train professionally.”

you might just get an award called ‘worst best friend in the world’ for your reaction to soonyoung’s words. you barely stop yourself from saying, “that wasn’t our plan. we were supposed to stick together, even if we got sick of each other.”

what you do say is, “oh. that’s… that’s really cool.”

“you don’t look too excited,” soonyoung’s smile falters a bit. “why aren’t you excited?”

“i mean, of course i’m happy for you,” you laugh, although there’s nothing you find funny in this situation. 

“i feel like there’s a ‘but’ that’s going to follow,” soonyoung looks at you warily. “what is it?”

there’s so many things you want to say, but you bite your tongue. you just shake your head with a smile. “no ‘buts.’ i’m happy for you, i really am.”

“really?” soonyoung asks again, just to be sure, and you nod. he seems convinced with the act you’ve put up, because he smiles brightly at you, and your heart skips a beat.

you try to bring up the kiss, and what it would mean for the both of you, but soonyoung says, “i should go home, it’s getting late.”

“yeah, it is,” you reply, swallowing down the urge to tell him to stay. “goodnight, soonyoung.”

—

for years to come, you regretted everything you did that night. you regretted letting him go that easily, not telling him how you felt, even the fact that you kissed him.

this regret had such a chokehold on you, that after soonyoung had packed up his things and moved to seoul, you cut off all contact with him.

you didn’t reply to his emails and didn’t answer his calls. whenever his parents visited your house, you’d lock yourself in your room, scared that they’d ask you about soonyoung and you’d have nothing to say.

it was your first heartbreak, and it was messy and painful. you would cry yourself to sleep every night and wake up in the morning, fighting the urge to call soonyoung and ask how he’s doing.

you had managed to convince yourself that now that soonyoung had left, there was no chance of him coming back, much less to meet you. it took you a year to make peace with it, and another year to try and move on, but one night set you back on your progress and had all your walls breaking down.

—

it’s a rainy night and you’re alone at home. your parents are out of town for your dad’s colleague’s wedding, and you couldn’t be bothered to join them.

you’re on your phone, watching pixelated figures on your screen laugh and scream. you’d never admit this to anyone, but you had secretly kept up with soonyoung’s activities ever since he’d left for seoul. for the last few months, he’d been part of a tv show along with other trainees, practicing in a room with green walls and awaiting the day their names would be picked to be a part of a new boy-group.

seeing him dance and goof around with other trainees always made your heart sink a little, but you were glad that at least one of you were enjoying their youth.

you’re in the middle of a compilation of funny moments from said tv show, when your doorbell rings. you’re skeptical as to who would show up in front of your house in the middle of the pouring rain and this late in the evening, so you equip yourself with a tennis racket and head to the front door.

you slowly twist the door knob and pull the door open, but when you see who’s standing at the door, the tennis racket slips from your hands and clatters loudly against the floor.

“what—what are you doing here?” you ask, suddenly feeling weak in the knees.

“did i do something wrong?” soonyoung fires back. he’s completely drenched in rainwater, and his shoulders seem to droop, not just with the weight of the wet clothes clinging to his body.

“soonyoung, that’s ridiculous. what do you mean?” you sputter. “i think you should be telling me why you’re miles away from seoul, in front of my house, soaked in rain. what were you thinking?”

“it’s been two years, y/n,” soonyoung scoffs. “two years since i left and you never called, texted, nothing. did you really not care about me leaving?”

“i just got busy,” you lie, looking away from him. “school got tough, and unlike you, i need to actually focus on—”

“wait, pause,” soonyoung cuts you off, and you wish you could slap yourself for letting those words slip out. “what do you mean ‘unlike me’? what, you think you’re better than me because you’re going to school and i’m training to be an idol? is that why you cut off all contact with me?”

“i didn’t mean to say that, and you know i’d never do anything like that,” you deny. 

“do i? do i know you anymore?” soonyoung runs a hand through his damp hair, just like he does whenever he’s annoyed. “i thought we were best friends, but all of a sudden, you go radio silent and give me no explanation at all.”

“i was having a hard time too, okay?” you raise your voice, and you hate how shaky it sounds. “it was tough for me to get used to living without you here, and—”

“don’t give me that bullshit,” he says, voice cracking near the end. “i needed you too, and you completely abandoned me. just like how you kissed me that night and never said anything afterwards. why do you always leave me in the dark?”

you’ve relived that first, innocent, clumsy kiss, multiple times in your head for the last two years, and hearing soonyoung bring it up makes the memory sting even more. 

“soonyoung, i—i tried to, but i didn’t think that it was the right time to bring it up,” you sigh, defeated. soonyoung’s gaze softens at that, and he inches forward to be closer to you. he raises his right hand to cup your cheek, and the contrast of his icy fingers against your warm skin makes you shudder.

“you think too much,” he says, looking into your eyes. “it’s just me; you can tell me whatever you want the second the thought crosses your mind. you know i’d always listen.”

“i know,” you nod, and the air between you two feels charged with tension that has been simmering for the last two years. your brain is working at full speed, trying to decide what your next move should be, and soonyoung seems to pick up on the hesitance in your eyes, because of which he exhales loudly and whispers under his breath, loud enough for you to hear, “fuck it.”

before you can predict what he’s about to do, soonyoung leans forward to crash his lips onto yours. you can feel soonyoung shivering in his wet clothes, but the kiss feels warmer than anything you’ve felt before. you give into your temptations and kiss him back. 

it’s not as awkward as last time, but it does take you a second to realize that in the time he’s been away, soonyoung has grown up from the lanky and lean boy he used to be. his shoulders seem to be broader, and arms considerably more firm from the constant, rigorous training he’s going through.

you take your time in running your hands up his arms, until they finally wrap around his neck, pulling him in close. the wet material of his hoodie meets your dry t-shirt, and the foreign cold sensation is what snaps you back into reality. you’re kissing the boy you tried so hard to move on from, and you’re kissing him despite knowing that you’ll never really have him.

pulling away from soonyoung hurts a lot more than you expected. he looks disoriented for a few seconds, but then his eyes focus on you, and he knows something has changed.

“we should talk about—”

“no,” you shake your head. “let’s just call this a weak moment, and forget about it.”

“are you being serious right now?” soonyoung huffs. “why are you doing this? am i just a mistake to you?”

if you were it wouldn’t hurt this much, you think to yourself. to soonyoung you say, “i think we’re better off as friends, soonyoung.”

soonyoung walks away again, but this time you’re the one who pushed him away, and he’s the one that wanted you to stay.

—

you didn’t think you’d ever meet soonyoung after that night. for months after, the pain you felt every time you thought of soonyoung was fresh and raw, but over the years, he moved to the back of your mind as you got busy with trying to cope with the real world.

you had decided to major in design in college, and with your degree, you managed to land a job at a famous magazine publisher as a designer, and you’re somewhat happy with it. it’s tough to get recognition in a creative field, especially as a new employee, but earning money easily outweighs the need for validation, which is why you gritted your teeth, plastered on a smile, and continued working for people who never acknowledge you.

that’s when life decided to give you another unexpected surprise.

—

you just got off work, and it’s almost midnight. you haven’t had much to eat the entire day, not when the company is downsizing and you need to work your ass off to keep your job.

your stomach grumbles loudly, and you feel frustrated too. you’re sick of eating convenience store food for most days of the week, but there’s not a single restaurant open at this hour in your area, and you may just have to settle for ramen again, when you stumble across your saviour.

it’s a hole-in-the-wall joint with a small LED sign outside it, displaying the name of the restaurant. there’s not more than four tables inside the restaurant, yet the aroma of delicious tteokbokki is enough to lure you in.

you push the door open, and an elderly lady with a kind smile welcomes you. “oh, my child, you look absolutely famished,” the lady coos. “come, take a seat, i’ll get you food.”

“thank you so much,” you gush, bowing deeply before sitting down at a table. while the lady brings you food, you take the time to rest your tired feet and exhausted eyes. you’re rubbing your aching forehead, when the door to the restaurant opens, indicating that another customer has entered.

out of curiosity, you look to the side to see the new customer, but when you see his face, you’re considering that the universe thinks you’re a joke. because, sitting at the table across from you is none other than kwon soonyoung.

memories from the past crash into you like a truck, and you’re almost ready to sacrifice a decent meal and flee from the restaurant, when the lady approaches your table with a huge tray in her hands.

“here you go, sweetheart,” she says, setting down bowl after bowl on your table. “enjoy your meal.”

you’re not sure how much of an appetite you’ve got left after you’ve literally faced your past. the shock on soonyoung’s face still hasn’t faded, and you’re debating if you should just avoid any further eye contact, finish your food, and leave the restaurant as quickly as possible.

it seems like that plan needs to be abandoned as well, because after a very awkward meal and paying for your food, the second you step out of the restaurant, soonyoung calls your name.

“y/n, wait,” you can tell that he feels awkward just from the way he’s fidgeting with his shirt, and it only makes you feel even more uncomfortable. “it’s… been a while.”

“it has,” you reply casually, as if he didn’t go on to become a worldwide sensation, while you’re stuck being mediocre. “it was great to see you again, but i really should—”

“let’s catch up some time?” he asks, chest heaving with anticipation.

“i don’t know if that would be a good idea, soonyoung,” you say, vaguely gesturing at the distance between the two of you. “after what happened last time…”

“you said we’d be better as friends, right?” he tries, still enthusiastic, and it makes you want to cry. “we should try again. to be friends, i mean. what do you think?”

—

agreeing with him had been simultaneously the best and worst decision of your life. meeting soonyoung nearly every night after work, eating dinner at the same table in the restaurant you both met at again, and spending hours listening to him talk about everything and nothing was something you never thought you’d get to experience again.

it had started to feel like he was your best friend all over again, just like all those years ago when you both were naive teenagers who could never imagine that their relationship would change this much.

the downside to all this was that your old feelings for soonyoung, feelings that never really faded away, had come to life again, and soonyoung smiling at you like an idiot in love, like an idiot who didn’t choose to run away from you the first time you hurt him, wasn’t helping either.

having to shut down his constant flirting, his abrupt confessions, ‘deals’ he’d strike with you to make you go on a date with him whenever he helped you with work, all of it was killing you slowly, and you didn’t know if you could tell soonyoung to back off without hurting him more than you already have.

as the weeks fly by, you started letting your guard down around soonyoung. he held your hand as he walked you home, carried your work bag even if you weren’t that tired, and even texted you first thing in the morning. you had promised to yourself that you wouldn’t let soonyoung get that close to you again, because dealing with the fallout was something you didn’t want to deal with again.

still, like icarus, you let yourself fly close to the sun that is soonyoung’s affections, selfishly hoping that the day your wings of wax melt didn’t come too soon.

it was all just wishful thinking, and the fragile bubble you had started to live in burst on the day of your twenty-ninth birthday. like every other day, you had expected soonyoung to meet you at your usual restaurant for dinner, but hours passed, and there was still no sign of soonyoung.

when soonyoung finally did show up, and after you left him alone in the rain, you couldn’t help but curse yourself for believing that something so flawed from the start could ever work out, no matter how much you tried.

“is it weird that i still feel nervous before concerts?” mingyu sighs, massaging his legs after their last rehearsal on the stage. 

“i don’t think that feeling will ever fully go away,” wonwoo chuckles, panting as he lays sprawled out on the floor of the green room some of them are gathered in. its the day before the first concert on their world tour, and backstage is buzzing with various members of staff running around, making sure everything is perfect.

“i don’t think soonyoung gets nervous, though,” wonwoo teases, nudging soonyoung’s leg with his foot.

soonyoung, too engrossed in his own thoughts, doesn’t even hear the jab. he’s busy staring off into space, and it puzzles the other members.

“hey, what’s on your mind?” mingyu asks, shaking soonyoung’s shoulder to snap him out of his trance.

“i don’t know,” he sighs. “i have a bad feeling about today.”

“hey! don’t jinx our concert with your negativity,” seungcheol quips. “whatever has you distracted, you need to get it out of your head. we need tomorrow to be perfect.”

the restless feeling that has been bothering soonyoung all morning finally makes sense when his phone buzzes with a notification.

it’s a text from you, after radio silence since your birthday, and soonyoung hates how he’s sprinting out of the green room towards the company cars at the drop of a hat.

in his rush, soonyoung leaves his phone behind, and when mingyu picks it up from the couch, the text displayed on the screen reads, can we talk? one last time, i promise.

everyone has a feeling that soonyoung doesn’t want to be meeting you for the last time.

. . . . .

soonyoung feels a little foolish for standing outside the restaurant alone, frantically looking around. he’s forgotten his phone at the concert venue, leaving him with no way to contact you to find out if you were even coming to see him.

but when he sees your figure at the end of the street, walking towards him, the anxiety he’d been feeling gets multiplied by ten.

when you come to a halt in front of him, you seem a bit surprised. “i didn’t expect you to come. not after…”

“i know it was you who left the medicine outside my house that day,” he says. “i decided to come so i could thank you for that.”

“you don’t have to,” you shake your head. “i didn’t do that as an apology.”

“so, you’re not going to apologize for any of it?” soonyoung tilts his head. “why’d you call me here? for your own amusement?”

“i called you here to tell you that i’m leaving for good, soonyoung,” you have to force yourself to blurt the words out, because the lump forming in your throat is slowly starting to choke you. “i got a new job, and i’m leaving korea. i’m not coming back.”

“what?” soonyoung doesn’t sound like he believes you. “what do you mean you’re leaving?”

“i need a fresh start away from all this, away from you,” you can’t hold your tears back anymore, and the thought of never seeing soonyoung again is a comforting yet terrifying thought. “this thing we have, whatever we’ve had for all these years, it hurts to live with. i know i was the one who went and messed everything up, but i—i didn’t know how else to deal with you leaving. i do apologize, soonyoung, for every time i’ve made you feel like i hate you, or i don’t want you, and i want you to know i didn’t mean any of it.”

“if you didn’t mean it, why did you do it?” soonyoung’s face is red with anger and the look of realization that he can’t do anything to salvage this situation is heartbreaking. “i told you, y/n, you don’t have to think so much when you’re with me. you don’t need to worry about everything that can go wrong, not when i’ve got your back. why could i never earn your trust?”

“how could i trust in something that was doomed from the start?” you let out the thought that has been gnawing away at you for years. “the moment i realized i loved you, you left, and i couldn’t do anything about it.”

“is that what the first kiss was about?” soonyoung asks. “you loved me since then?”

“i did,” you nod. “and don’t you dare try to apologize for leaving, because it’s going to make me feel even worse. there was no way on earth i would’ve asked you to stay for me, and you wouldn’t have listened anyway.”

“what about after that?” soonyoung says, and you notice how it’s his left hand rising up to push his hair back. it used to be his right hand before, and you will every cell in your body to stop thinking about what the difference means. “i came back to you, why didn’t you tell me then?”

“you had enough on your plate back then, soonyoung,” you shake your head. “i’ve always kept up with your journey, since before your debut, and i know that expecting a relationship from you then wasn’t right of me. it would’ve made things worse.”

“why not now, y/n?” soonyoung yells, tears of frustration running down his face. “do you have an excuse for that too? what, i’d be too busy touring the world which is why you never said anything? if you love me, and i love you, why couldn’t we just let that be the reason? was love never enough for you?”

“i can’t—i can’t answer that, soonyoung,” you sob. “all i do is hurt you, don’t you see that?”

“there you go, making decisions for me again,” he scoffs. “you can’t be the one to decide if i want you, even if you’ve hurt me.”

“i’m deciding for myself,” you sniffle, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. “we’re too far gone to fix things, and i don’t want you to get your hopes up for me. i don’t think i’ll ever be ready for anything real with you, and i feel like it’s the best way to leave things.”

“you’re leaving without even trying to fix anything,” soonyoung seethes. “your apology is just another slap to the face, and i can’t believe that i’d still do anything for you, no questions asked.”

“i’m asking you to let go, soonyoung,” you choke out. “it’s what’s best for us, and you know it too.”

“you make it sound easy,” soonyoung’s laugh is dry and hollow. “letting go of you means letting go of my heart. it’s not that easy, y/n.”

“i’m sorry,” you let your head hang low, too ashamed to look at soonyoung. you’re surprised once again when you feel his hands reaching forward to hold your trembling ones.

“is there nothing i can say to make you stay?” soonyoung tries again. his anger seems to have dissipated, and the look of desperation on his face matches the one on yours.

“i’m leaving tomorrow night,” you let yourself savor the feeling of his rough hands enveloping yours. “i can’t stay, you know that.”

“i’ll try anyway,” he exhales. “come to the concert tomorrow.”

“soonyoung, i can’t—”

“please.” he sounds dangerously close to begging. “i need to see you one last time, please. if it’s the last time i’m seeing you, i want it to be tomorrow.”

“i can’t make any promises, soonyoung,” you shut your eyes. 

“don’t make any,” he says. “i’ll get you a ticket, but if you don’t want to come, don’t. just know that i’ll be looking for you in the crowd.”

“don’t expect me to be there,” you say, looking up at him. he’s close enough for you to see his eyes glittering with tears, and the knife in your chest twists in deeper.

“can’t make any promises,” his words come out in a whisper, and before you can remind soonyoung of the consequences of kissing in the middle of a street, where anyone can recognize him, he pulls you in. 

the kiss doesn’t last long, but it makes you feel like your body is on fire. it makes your heart ache at the thought of losing this warmth forever, and it takes everything in you to stop yourself from pulling soonyoung closer to you.

he pulls away first this time, and you can see it in his eyes that he knows you won’t be there tomorrow. still, he says, “come tomorrow, please.”

he leaves before you can respond. which might be better for him. because you don’t know if you can handle the fact that the last thing you’ll tell him is no.

the opening notes of the song play, and now that all the members are finally sitting down after hours of dancing, soonyoung takes a moment to scan the crowd.

he thinks about the ticket he’d sent you through text, and how the message hadn’t even delivered. he thinks about the flight that’s about to leave the airport soon, taking you far away from him.

if you leave in the distant future i probably won’t be able to live

he thinks of the last kiss, and it’s enough to make his eyes water.

chan finishes singing the first two lines, and with a shaky hand, soonyoung lifts his mic to his lips.

it’s not in the distant future i just don’t want to think about it

you’re not in the crowd tonight, and even though you didn’t make any promises, the last look he had at you felt like a promise in itself. a promise that said, i won’t be there, no matter how hard you look.

still, soonyoung feels like you’re watching. he wants to imagine that you’re in the waiting room at the airport, waiting to board your flight, clutching your phone and watching the livestream of this concert. he wants to imagine that the tears in his eyes make you want to cry too.

if you leave me (what can i do?) all my days (you’re the reason i’m alive and breathing)

fans recording clips of this concert are going to share this particular clip of soonyoung singing the chorus of the song with tears streaming down his face. they’re going to say things like, who hurt him? and soonyoung is really professional; he pours so much emotion into each song.

they don’t know the truth behind the tears. they don’t know that soonyoung was once a boy, who was, and still is, in love with a girl. and they’ll never know, neither will you, that soonyoung will always continue to love you, even if you’re oceans away from him.

soonyoung won’t ever know this: you do watch the livestream of the concert. you’re sitting in the airport lounge, and soonyoung’s eyes staring straight into the camera feels like he’s really looking at you, after he failed to spot you in the crowd. 

he won’t ever know this, but ever since that first kiss at fifteen, you had doomed your own fate. even if you ever found love in any other person, you’d never love them as much as you love soonyoung, and you decide to continue being selfish and keep this secret locked away in your heart for good.

the airport speakers announce that passengers flying to new york may start boarding their flight, and you shut your phone just as the song ends.

i want to hold your hand, just stay with me.

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[rainrot4me]

Headcanons of how the pastas would kill reader? Like they still love reader but orders

I know not everyone here is under Slender’s control, but for the sake of this little thingy imagine some higher power is forcing them to… or whatever you want lol

๑ Warning: Murder, weapons, death, talking to a corpse

── .✦

✦ . JEFF THE KILLER

Jeff is trembling the second Slender orders it. He tries to grin, to hold up the knife with the same wild confidence, but his hands won’t stay steady. He gets close enough to smell you, to see your tears, and he’s talking fast, nervously, trying to make sense of it.

“C’mon… don’t look at me like that, okay? Don’t. You know I— I can’t say no. I can’t say no, baby.”

He pulls you in, practically hugging you while the blade kisses your ribs, whispering how sorry he is, how much he wanted to keep you safe. Jeff’s kill is usually violent and showy, but for you, he makes it quiet. Fast. He covers your mouth with his hand, not to silence you, but to soothe you, voice shaking the whole time, telling you “go to sleep” like a final goodbye. He’ll bury you somewhere only he knows.

✦ . TICCI TOBY

Toby is a wreck. He paces, tears as his skin and clothing, tries to argue with Slender, tries to argue with himself, but there’s no escaping the command. He apologizes before even lifting his hatchet, tears running over his cheeks in silence.

“I’m s-so sorry, I’m ss-so, so sor-sorry. I swear I— I didn’t wa-want tt-this.”

He holds your face, touches your hair, kisses your forehead. Then he takes one precise swing, practically as easy as cracking his knuckles, because he refuses to let you suffer. Afterward he’ll stay with your body, rocking back and forth, pressing his hands over the wound like he can somehow fix it, repeating “I’m so-sorry” until his throat gives out.

✦ . EYELESS JACK

Jack is cold on the outside, but you’d see it in the way he stalls—every second of hesitation is a silent scream. He lays you down gently, like a doctor preparing a patient.

“Forgive me. I need you to forgive me.”

He’ll do it with the least amount of pain possible, working with almost a surgeon’s care, but you’d see his shoulders shaking. After you slip away, he closes your eyes, stitches you back together, trying to make you look peaceful. He’d keep a lock of your hair tucked away, a tiny relic of what he couldn’t protect.

✦ . MASKY (TIM WRIGHT)

Masky goes dead silent. No quips, no growling, just a low, haunted stare as he fights the urge to refuse. But Slender’s commands eat away at him, leave him no room to think his own thoughts. His brain is a loud bang and siren of command.

“Don’t make me do this. Please… don’t make me do this.”

He puts you against his chest and cradles you, one last soft moment before he presses the knife in. He does it from behind, so you don’t have to see his face. He’ll hold on tight, feeling your heartbeat stutter against his arms, refusing to let you fall. After, he’d drag himself outside and sob until he’s hoarse, clawing at the dirt and mud and ruining the hands that ruined you.

✦ . HOODIE (BRIAN THOMAS)

Hoodie’s hands physically shake as he loads the gun, wishing he could put it to his own head instead. He gives you one last chance to run, even if Slender is watching, even is his head is splitting and his limbs feel like mush as he moves.

“Look away. Please… just look away from me.”

He takes the shot quickly, with perfect aim to end it clean, but his knees buckle afterward, your name spilling from his lips like a prayer. He won’t let anyone else touch your body—he’d wrap you in a blanket, bury you with his own two hands, and visit the grave every chance he gets.

✦ . KATE THE CHASER

Kate is stiff, hyper-focused, her trauma responses screaming as she tries to stay obedient. Her voice breaks as she gives you an order to lie down, tears hot and relentless on her cheeks.

“I don’t want to hurt you. You know that. I… I have to.”

She’ll hold your hand through it, blade sure and unhesitating once she starts—trained, efficient, but completely shattered inside. Afterward, she’d hide away for days, refusing to speak, replaying the moment over and over until it breaks her.

✦ . BEN DROWNED

Ben tries to glitch out of it, tries to break free, but can’t. He’s sobbing, shaking, every pixel of his corrupted heart in agony. Every time he teleports away, he’s immediately snapped back right in front of you, held down by an unnatural pressure.

“I love you. Please, please, please— I’m sorry.”

He takes you under, a digital drowning—he glitches your senses until you simply fade, sparing you pain. You’d hear his cries echoing even after your mind goes dark. Later he’d code an entire secret shrine in your honor, hidden inside a ROM no one else can find.

✦ . CLOCKWORK

Natalie is silent, face blank, but her hands tremble. She tries to talk you through it like a nurse with a dying patient, stuttering and rambling on and on to try and buy you both some time.

“You’re… gonna feel a pinch, sweetheart. That’s all.”

She knocks you out first with the hilt of her knife, makes sure you won’t suffer. Then a quick stab of the serrated blade through your heart. She’d sob after, nearly vomiting, and carve your initials into her own thigh as a way to punish herself, never letting herself forget. You’re all she draws for a year, until she starts to forget your face.

✦ . LAUGHING JACK

Lj tries to joke, to keep it silly, but you’d see the cracks. Tears run through his face paint, dripping down his chin, ruining his makeup.

“Come on, sugar, let’s make it a game, yeah? Don’t be scared…”

He gives you a balloon, a final silly gift, before using one of his razor-sharp claws to end it. He’ll cradle you after, weeping, pressing your lifeless body against his chest, promising you he’ll never let anyone forget how sweet you were.

✦ . NINA THE KILLER

Nina is shaking violently, smearing her eyeliner, screaming at Slender in frustration before she even comes near you, clawing at her chest and pulling her hair. It’s reminiscent of a tantrum.

“No. No no no no. Please, I love them, don’t do this to me!”

When she has no choice, she’ll hug you tight, bury her face in your shoulder, and do it as gently as she can, a quick stab straight through the ribs. She cries against your body afterward, swearing she’ll find a way to see you again.

✦ . HOMICIDAL LIU

Liu is eerily quiet, resigned, voice trembling. He fists his hands into his pants and drags his nails across his skin, leaving himself disheveled and shaking.

“I love you more than anything. That’s why I’m making it fast.”

He’d embrace you, press a soft kiss to your temple, and slide the blade into your back, so you never see it coming. He holds you until the end, breathing your name like a final prayer, then goes catatonic for days after.

✦ . JANE EVERLASTING

Jane stands still for a long time, tears spilling over her cheeks, as she tries to reconcile orders with her heart. She tries to talk herself down, to convince everyone and herself that this isn’t the answer. There’s no point.

“They don’t own me. But… they own you.”

She gives you a gentle push to lie down, brushes your hair away, and slides the blade into you quickly, whispering “Thank you. Thank you for loving me.” She’ll bury you somewhere beautiful, with fresh flowers every week.

✦ . X-VIRUS

Cody acts cold, but his face breaks right before he does it. He tries to hide his fear, his remorse, but you’ve always been able to see right through it all, so what’s the point. Maybe it’s a final act of defiance, trying to prove a point that things aren’t really changing.

“Don’t cry. Don’t… don’t do that, I can’t… I can’t stand it.”

He’d inject you with something to knock you out first, so you’d never feel the blade going in. Afterward, he’d keep your necklace, or a scrap of your clothes, and absolutely lose his mind in secret, breaking down in a way no one ever sees.

✦ . SLENDERMAN

Slender approaches you without emotion, but you can feel the anguish radiating off him like a pulsing heat. He holds you close, enveloping you in those shadows, almost as if to shield you from what he is about to do.

“It was never meant to be you,” you hear in your mind, his psychic voice fracturing, distorted with something like guilt. “Forgive me.”

He will make it painless. The tendrils slip around your throat and heart, still gentle, cradling you almost lovingly. You feel a moment of weightless cold, a pressure, then nothing. The forest takes you, its roots cradling your body, almost as an act of mercy.

꩜ .ᐟ

[sfblah]

More Big Nose Dragon GF

[Previous Chapter]

I had some more writing juice left in me so I did some more of the thing. Also I'm so attached to Aster that I just had to have @debachoory do a portrait of her. Love how it turned out, friggin huge nose dragon gf.

Female sneezes, nose play, micro/macro, various causes

-----

Aster has gotten herself into a bit of trouble. She’d been tasked with keeping track of the university’s alchemy supplies, and she had the misfortune of sneezing into a jar of pixie dust. Not wanting to call attention to her little accident, she instead chose to replenish the reagent herself. And with the next alchemy lab session happening tomorrow, she doesn’t have much time.

Pixies live in the woods, right? Aster can only hope that at least one does as she pushes her way through the trees. Normally her long strides would enable her to cover a lot of ground quickly, but in a forest where she’s almost as tall as many of the trees, she’s not quite so lucky. Her short wolf cut hair has picked up a few sticks and leaves after only a few minutes, and despite her rough exterior she flinches away from every branch that swings too close to her face. It seems her only stroke of luck is that hay fever season hasn’t rolled around just yet.

A sudden wave of dizziness washes over the draconata. Aster stops in her tracks, closing her eyes and lightly pinching the high bridge of her big nose. An aroma she can’t describe tickles her nostrils, and when she opens her eyes, the scenery around her feels the same as it had been a moment ago, but also just slightly different. The inconsistencies become more unsettling the longer she looks around, and she can only hope this means a fae creature of some kind is nearby.

“Hello?” Aster calls out, slowly spinning in place. She knows she could easily handle any physical danger, but fae are not to be trifled with. Or so she’s heard. Aster’s never actually met one before.

Ugh, this is a stupid idea. Just fess up to sneezing in the jar, surely the alchemy professors will understand. Even if they don’t, whatever punishment they mete out is guaranteed to be more reasonable than a deal with the fair folk. Aster shakes her head and turns around, hoping to simply go back the way she came. But, just as she takes a single step, she feels something perch on the wide, upturned tip of her nose. She crosses her eyes to look, and she’s hit with a surge of fear and excitement when she finds herself face to face with a pixie.

“Golly, you sure are a pretty gal.”

Aster’s mouth opens wordlessly, and eventually she manages a dumbfounded “you really think so?” Her cheeks flush once her brain catches up. The pixie lifts off from her nose after giving it a reassuring pat on the bridge.

“Why, of course I do! Just look at your cool hair, those beautiful eyes, and this lovely big nose.”

Words escape her. Aster’s blush deepens, and she can’t hold back a bashful smile. The pixie gives a twirl and a giggle, speaking up once more when Aster is clearly too flustered to.

“Now, what can a humble pixie do for you this fine evening? Is everything alright, sugar?”

Eyes widening for a split second, Aster finally recalls her task. She digs an empty jar out of her bag and fidgets with it, not wanting to thrust it at the pixie too abruptly.

“Oh, I, um.”

The draconata clears her throat and gathers herself, earning a silent chuckle from her host.

“I was hoping to obtain a jar of pixie dust,” Aster announces plainly. It’s an ordeal to resist a long-winded explanation, but she knows it’s best not to give a fae any unnecessary details. Plus, she doesn’t want to bore the little thing. Or embarrass herself by speaking the tale aloud. The pixie flutters around the jar, taking a closer look.

“Hmm, I see, I see,” she says, a hand on her chin. “And what would you offer in exchange? A pixie’s dust is not something to be given away freely.”

“I am prepared to offer some of my scales,” Aster replies. She lifts her shirt, partially exposing her midriff. Shiny purple scales cover her body from her belly to her hips, and the pixie swiftly moves to inspect them.

“Ah, draconata scales. Not as large or as hard as a true dragon’s, but almost as magical, and perhaps better suited to one of my stature. A tempting proposition indeed.”

An unexpectedly long silence passes. Just as Aster is about to ask the pixie if she’s willing to make a deal, she suddenly feels… Upside down. To be clear, she hasn’t moved, and her feet are still planted on the forest floor, but even though she isn’t falling into the sky, gravity seems to be pulling her in the opposite direction.

“But, I think I’m craving something more immaterial today,” says the pixie. Aster feels a little pitter-patter on the underside of her nose, and what she’s unable to see is the tiny fae taking a stroll up and down her wide, spacious septum. She scrunches her face in response to the tickle, and then the world returns upright. Aster wavers slightly as she regains her balance, and then she slowly rubs an outstretched finger back and forth under her nostrils. The pixie flutters up before her once more, smiling brightly.

“Dragonkin, if you would allow me to play with your nose, I will gladly fill your jar with pixie dust.”

“Play with my nose?” Aster queries. The pixie nods enthusiastically.

“You won’t turn it into a snout or anything like that, will you?”

“Would you like me to?”

Aster wordlessly shakes her head.

The pixie giggles until she snorts, rolling head over heels in midair.

“You’re wise to be exacting, but don’t you worry your pretty little head. Cross my heart, I have no desire to alter your state of being. Simply, that nose of yours has charmed me. I wish to become acquainted with it.”

Somehow the pixie’s choice of words makes Aster blush all over again. She rubs her nose, not even to stop a tickle this time, more to cover it up and preserve its decency. But, all things considered, this seems more favorable than any deal she’d expected to get from a fae. Provided the pixie is being truthful, that is. And if not, then Aster supposes she’s already beyond saving.

“Alright,” she says, holding off a sigh. “How long is fair for a jar of pixie dust? An hour?” Not about to let this little thing live in her nose for the rest of her life. The pixie gives her a pitiful, exaggerated frown before straightening and holding up a finger in revelation.

“I, Bixu of the Summer Court, will spend the remainder of this evening with your nose in exchange for two jars of pixie dust,” she proposes, holding out a hand to shake.

Aster hesitates, though not for long. The alchemy professors would likely notice that a second jar had appeared from thin air, but Aster is Aster, not Aster the Wise. Bixu’s entire body is smaller than her little finger, but she too extends her hand. She feels a tiny pinch on her skin, and then the pixie disappears beneath her nose before she can blink.

“My, such elegant nostrils,” sighs Bixu, staring up at the underside of Aster’s nose. She delicately traces a fingertip along the edge of Aster’s left nostril, then her right, leaving them both encircled in a golden glitter. The nostrils flare outward and then gently suck in as Aster unconsciously sniffs up the pixie dust. Her lips part and she emits a low “hheh…”, but any urge to sneeze passes as quickly as it arrives.

“Such power in your breath,” the pixie continues. Aster isn’t sure how to respond to any of this. All she can do is focus on keeping her hands at her sides, not wanting to interfere with the pact.

“Would you be a dear and sniff again, please?”

Aster stammers incoherently for a second before obliging Bixu’s request. She inhales sharply, the suction again thinning her nostrils for a brief instant.

“Good girl. Sniff, sniff!”

Unsure if that was meant to be another command or just a casual remark, Aster sniffs twice rapidly. Bixu gives another giggle snort, and then she climbs over the tip of the draconata’s nose to sit atop it. She straddles across the bridge, splaying her arms, legs, and wings.

“You truly do have a lovely nose, darling,” Bixu moans, nuzzling her face into the soft gray skin.

“Thanks?” Aster replies, one eyebrow raised. If she had a nickel…

A moment passes while Bixu continues to hug Aster’s big nose. At least an hour, but no more than a few seconds. Aster isn’t sure if the sun is beginning to set, or if it’s simply circling around the same point in the sky. Eventually the pixie relaxes her grip and slowly slides down the long nose, coming to rest on the upturned tip. Then, she rolls over the end and disappears beneath it once more. From the light fluttering on her skin, Aster surmises that Bixu is drifting back and forth between her nostrils.

“Which of your nostrils do you prefer? Left or right?” the pixie asks, her tone completely earnest. Aster frowns.

“...I have no idea,” she states flatly. Bixu again traces the outline of her left nostril, then the right, prompting Aster to sharply wriggle her nose.

“Well, the left is slightly narrower,” Bixu observes. “I suspect it becomes stuffed more easily, though it may be less susceptible to irritants.”

Aster can’t begin to guess as to the veracity of such a hypothesis. Probably best not to say anything. Before she can decide what not to say, she feels something, presumably Bixu, shoving its way into her left nostril. Aster snorts, scrunching her nose to the side.

“Well? Is it stuffed?” the pixie asks, her voice echoing inside Aster’s head. Aster tentatively opens one eye.

“It’s a little blocked up, yeah,” she answers, fighting the urge to stick a finger in there and dig the pixie out.

“Only a little, that’s good. I must say it’s quite spacious in here. Your right nostril must be even more so.”

“I guess,” says Aster with an irritated sniff. 

Bixu shifts around, taking in the sights. The draconata’s nostril is protected by a dense forest of hairs, and every surface is coated in a soft, powdery soot. Grains of pollen and specks of dust dot the landscape, trapped in the layer of ash. Bixu turns her attention to the closest hair, reaching up into the distance like a mighty tree. Unable to help herself, she gives it a push.

A tickle shoots up Aster’s left nostril, making her scrunch her face yet again. She ponders asking Bixu to get out, but before she can…

“Ah-CHOO!!”

The pixie sneezes shrilly, blasting a puff of soot from Aster’s nostril. She coughs once, then manages a choked “gesundheit.” Bixu crawls back out of the draconata’s nose and pats herself off, leaving a little dark cloud in the air.

“Goodness, excuse me. It’s awfully dusty in there. Doesn’t it make you want to sneeze?”

“Not really,” Aster says, casually rubbing a finger under her nose. Bixu grins as curiosity takes hold of her.

“What happens when you do sneeze? Does it get blown out?” she interrogates, fists clenched with excitement. Aster glances off to the side and scratches behind one ear.

“Uh… Some of it, yeah.”

Bixu clasps her hands together and twirls.

“Oh, that I must see!”

Uh oh.

The pixie disappears under Aster’s nose once again, this time gathering a mound of pixie dust in her palm. She takes aim right between those big, long nostrils, draws a deep breath, and then lets the glittering powder fly free. Moving like a creature all of its own, the stream of dust splits in two before surging up both nostrils. Aster’s face immediately goes slack as the pixie dust reaches deep into her sinuses, tickling everything along the way like a thousand tiny feathers.

“hh… heh…”

Aster’s chest rises and falls as she feels her soot and ash begin to roil in the depths of her nose. For better or worse, Bixu is certainly going to get an up close and personal example of a draconata’s sneeze.

“I… Ohgods… hh-heh!”

One hand still clutching the empty jar, the other raises to hang limply in the air. Hitching breaths turn to gasps, and then gasps turn to intermittent snorts that release preliminary tendrils of smoke. This is going to be a big one.

“heh-hhh-! G-get bahh… ahh… haahh…!”

Bixu ignores Aster’s wispy warning, continuing to hover in place barely more than a foot away. With one final shrieking gasp, the draconata throws back her head, and…

“HRAAHHSHHHOOOOO!!!!!”

Aster unleashes a monstrous sneeze, bending fully at the waist. Thick, dark smoke blasts from both of her nostrils, engulfing not just Bixu, but the entire little clearing around them. At a glance the whole incident must have looked like a small explosion. Aster sits up as the haze dissipates, having stumbled and fallen on her butt in the chaos. She rests against one arm on the ground, while her jar hand firmly scrubs an outstretched finger back and forth under her nose, a bit of smoke still puffing from her nostrils.

“Oh bless you!” chimes Bixu, seemingly no worse for wear after the deluge. “What a big sneeze!”

“Yeah, that was a doozy,” grumbles Aster. She sets the jar down on the dirt beside her and gives her nose a slow, upward wipe with her palm. Her nostrils stretch against her hand as she presses on her nose, but the tickling continues.

“I hope it didn’t hurt your poor nose,” Bixu continues, giving Aster a gentle pat on the bridge. She shakes her head, still scrubbing at her nostrils.

“Nah, just tiih… T-tickles! hhRAHSHHUH!!!”

The draconata suddenly sneezes again. Smaller this time, and with a smaller cloud of soot to match, but it’s still a loud and messy affair.

“Bless you twice!”

“Thanks,” snorts Aster, wiping her nose down the length of her forearm. Later she’ll look back and wonder why she handled this whole fiasco so calmly, but at the moment, what else is she going to do? Well, for one, keep rubbing.

“Ugh, itchy nose…” Aster complains, swiping her fingers back and forth under her nose with gradually increasing speed. Eventually she lets her hand fall away, and she tips her head back to stare up at the sky. The sun is nowhere to be seen, though the forest is still bright and colorful as ever. Aster gives a start when she feels Bixu touch down on her philtrum, best let the pixie do as she pleases. Mercifully her host provides only a cathartic scratching under her nose.

“Scritch, scritch!” Bixu chirps as she kneads the soft skin of Aster’s septum with both hands. Such tiny fingers, but they work wonders on Aster’s big nose. After just a few seconds, the draconata’s nostrils are good as new. She takes a deep breath and sighs, tipping her head back down to gaze at her strange companion.

“That… Actually felt really good,” Aster admits with a shy smile. She slides an outstretched finger across the underside of her nose to chase off any lingering tickles, and Bixu curtseys in mid air.

“Much obliged, dragonkin,” she says, clasping her hands behind her back. “But alas, I believe time is near for us to go our separate ways.” Aster is almost disappointed. Well, she’s not fond of sneezing or having her nose invaded, but this has been… Fun? Maybe? Almost.

“Well, I, uh…” Aster mumbles, avoiding eye contact. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Bixu.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” replies the pixie, extending a hand. “One last thing.”

Bixu does her best to cradle Aster’s vast nose with her tiny palm, and she gives it a long, tender kiss right on the tip. A fleeting tickle swirls into both of Aster’s nostrils, making her scrunch up her face, and when she opens her eyes again, Bixu is nowhere to be seen. After giving her nose an upward flick with the side of a finger, she turns to find two jars of pixie dust on the ground beside her, as promised. Aster picks them up and returns one to her bag before spying a small note attached to the second.

My Dearest Dragonkin,

I was in such a rush to make a dramatic exit that I forgot to give you a final warning. Some of my friends can be quite jealous, and they may wish to take you for themselves now that we’ve parted. Hurry on home quick as you can, silent as a very quiet pixie.

Nasally yours, Bixu of the Summer Court

p.s.: Don’t sneeze! Now that you’ve sneezed for me, I might be the one to get jealous if you should happen to sneeze for them…

Aster blinks.

“That’s the scariest thing I’ve ever read in my entire life,” she mutters to herself, staring into the distance. The forest feels darker already. Aster yanks the note off of the second jar and drops it to the ground, and once she’s secured her bag, she begins to retrace her steps. Or at least, she thinks she’s retracing her steps.

Despite the distressing note, Aster soon forgets her worries. Just a brisk walk in the woods back to the university. No problem. No…

Aster stops in her tracks, a chill running up her spine. It wasn’t a noise that startled her so, but rather the complete lack of any. The forest has gone utterly silent, as if the animals and even the wind itself have fled. With no time to think, Aster quietly jogs toward the biggest bush she can see. Hopefully it’ll be enough to obscure her tall form. Aster dives into the foliage with a deafening rustle of leaves, and then stillness sets in once more.

The only sound Aster can detect is the thump of her own heart, but something is passing by. She can’t hear it, see it, or smell it, but she feels it all the same. Has it noticed her? As long as she’s still coherent and in one piece, she can only assume that it hasn’t. The imperceptible presence continues on its way, and Aster remains motionless for what seems like hours compressed into minutes. Eventually the invisible weight lifts from her soul, and a bit of ambient noise returns to the forest. 

Aster allows herself a quiet sigh and she peeks her head out of the greenery. But, when she tries to take a breath of fresh air, the air is anything but refreshing. Unlike the fierce, feathery tickle of the pixie dust, the aroma of the undergrowth leaves her feeling sluggish and stuffy. 

Oh no.

“Really? Now!?” Aster grumbles under her breath, giving her nostrils a slow, firm rub with her fingers. She glares daggers down at her big nose, and already she can see a few flecks of yellow on her gray skin. Of course she hadn’t brought any allergy potions. Just water, a few snacks, and the jar for the pixie dust. Not even any tissues. Normally she wouldn’t need them for another month, but it seems spring has come for her early.

Still haphazardly rubbing her nose, Aster takes off through the trees. Eventually she wipes her nostrils across her forearm and turns to a full on sprint, trusting that she’s headed in the right direction. Unfortunately she doesn’t get far before her foot snags on a thick root and she stumbles. Aster throws out her arms to steady herself, but still she crashes to the ground. She props herself up on her elbows, ready to leap to her feet…

A colorful flowering shrub bars Aster’s path. That hadn’t been there before she fell. It couldn’t have. Why would she run toward it? Whatever, no time to worry about that now. Aster holds her breath as she tries to back away, already feeling the pollen tickling its way into her nostrils.

“heeh-!”

A minuscule hitched wheeze is enough to halt the draconata in place. Eyelids fluttering, she clumsily maneuvers one hand to rub her fingers back and forth under her nose. The pollen continues its onslaught, and Aster can only slow its advance.

“hh… ghih…”

She snorts softly, her flaring nostrils releasing a small puff of smoke. A gentle breeze clears it away, but the gust is suddenly cut short.

‘Don’t sneeze,’ Aster pleads with herself. She gives one last swipe left and right across her nostrils, slow and firm, and then she presses her fingers up as hard as she can. The aching tickle recedes ever so slightly as her nose compresses on top of her hand. Not enough. Still need to…

“Don’t…! Sneeze!”

She’s too far gone to realize that she’d said the words out loud. The silence zeroes in on her, and if it needs any more help…

“heh-! hHRAAHSHOOO!!!”

Smoke and pollen spew from Aster’s nostrils as she sneezes. Small by her standards, but by no means quiet. She pushes through her disorientation and surges up to resume her sprint.

Nothing.

No shrub, no forest, no ground, no sky. She is nowhere. But not alone.

“Dragonkin!”

A discordant symphony of tiny voices calls out to Aster. Too terrified even to scream, all she can do is wait. Cacophonous fluttering fills her ears, and after a single blink she finds herself surrounded by what must be a hundred pixies, all swirling around her in a mad vortex.

“Hello!” “What’s your name?” “Play with me!” “Where are you from?” “Tell me your name!”

Aster can only recognize an occasional word among the chaos. She keeps her lips tightly sealed. No matter what she says, she knows she’ll regret it. Whatever rational part of her mind remains desperately wants to find a way out, but where can she even escape to?

The air soon grows thick with pixie dust, and more than a little finds its way into Aster’s long nostrils. They begin to flare and wriggle almost immediately, giving her little time to react. She unconsciously lifts one hand toward her face, but she’s unable to make any use of it.

“ha-haa-haaa-! RAAAHCHOOO!!!”

Aster doubles over with a sharp, loud sneeze. The smoke expelled by her nostrils is immediately swept up in the tornado of pixies and carried away, though some of the tiny creatures still take notice.

“A sneeze!” “She sneezes!” “How cute!” “I want to try!” “Do it again!” “She sneezed!” “Sneeze!”

Now she understands Bixu’s warning. Sort of. This is still beyond what Aster could have imagined. She barely has time to straighten before she feels at least a dozen pixies trying to scramble into her nostrils. As vast as they are, they’re not quite big enough for all the pixies to fit at once. Her nose is completely plugged before any of them can get fully inside, but that doesn’t stop them from raising all kinds of havoc.

The pixies fill Aster’s head with glittering dust. They kick up a storm of ash and soot in her sinuses. They play with her nose hairs, tugging on them and tying some together. It’s unlike anything Aster has ever experienced before. All this to say, she really, really needs to sneeze.

“hah… hh-hih…!”

Smoke begins to seep out of the draconata’s nostrils, blocked as they are. None of the fae seem to care, and they continue with their mischief. Swirling soot, quivering nose hairs, it’s all too much.

“ghhah… hih… nnheh!”

Aster’s knees buckle. She would have fallen to the ground if there was any beneath her feet. One pixie finally manages to shove its way past the rest and it soars deep into Aster’s nose, leaving a trail of dust in its wake. The little intruder gives a happy twirl, sending the surrounding nose hairs all aflutter. Aster has reached her limit.

“haahh… Hhaaahhhh…!”

The pixies don’t let up. Soot pours from Aster’s nose, nearly as much as if she’d already sneezed. Plenty of pixie dust is mixed in with the ash, seemingly more than should be able to fit inside the poor draconata. Her besieged nostrils give one last great flare, and her final gasp for breath is more akin to an inward scream.

“HHRAAAAHHHSHHHHOOOOOOOOO!!!!!”

An enormous cloud of smoke rises above the treetops. Every inch of the clearing below is blanketed in soot, including Aster herself. She lays flat on her back, somewhere between unable and unwilling to move. Some of the dryer plants around her have been singed. She snorts out a pair of smoke rings in the shape of her nostrils and finally sits up with a weak cough.

“hih… hehh… hHREHSHHUH!!”

Another sneeze, another cloud. It’s a wonder she has any smoke left in her. With an exhausted whine, Aster slowly rubs her outstretched fingers back and forth under her nose. She scrubs away until her tickly nostrils are sufficiently numbed, and finally she opens her eyes. The devastation all around her doesn’t surprise her half as much as the fact that there’s anything to see at all. Aster shakily stands, checks her bag and jars, and gives her nose another much needed rub.

“Uh… Excuse me,” she mumbles, her voice tired and congested. She lazily turns her head from side to side, and the pixies are nowhere to be seen. Her big sneeze must have scared them off, or blown them away. Aster frowns, her cheeks warming. Not sure which possibility is more embarrassing.

With no energy left to sprint, she slowly trudges forward. The trees begin to thin, and the university buildings gradually come into view. The campus clocktower reads just after 4:00 in the morning, hopefully the same night and plane of existence from which Aster had set out. She drags herself to the alchemy building, deposits both jars of pixie dust in the store room, and promptly collapses into a chair in the atrium.

“Next time I’ll just tell them I… I… hih… hRAHCHUHH! Ugh…”

Aster lets her head fall back over the top of the chair. She drifts in and out of sleep, exhausted but still too wound up to fully doze off. Eventually a long, pointy nose comes into view from behind, followed by a familiar face staring down at her.

“Aster?”

The draconata blinks slowly.

“Hey, Milly. What’re you doing up?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” the elf counters, resting a hand on her hip. “I was prepping for my lab later today, then I heard you sneeze. I swear, you’re so loud.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m amazed it’s just me. You probably woke up half the campus with-”

“Yeah. I got it.”

Milly pouts, her slitted nostrils flaring in frustration.

“What happened to you?”

Aster sighs, snorting out two thin wisps of smoke.

“Allergy season came early.”

Milly gawks.

“You expect me to believe this is all because of hay fever? I…”

She trails off, her expression softening almost imperceptibly.

“Do you want a massage?”

Aster grins, slowly rubbing an outstretched finger under the tip of her nose.

“Yes please.”

Milly slaps Aster’s hand away, then she delicately places her fingertips on the draconata’s forehead and nose. A classic Milly sinus massage. Aster’s nose lets off a long, gentle puff of smoke, easing her congestion. Milly frowns at the messy display, but she continues unabated. At least, until…

“M-Mih.. I… heh…”

“Aster, no! Don’t-!”

“hrEHHCHOOO!!!”

“...Sneeze.”

[tanushreeistumbling]

Sylus | Boxer

[Scene: Sylus, the new boxer you have to fight, in front of all of your fans in the stands right now. watching with suspense. You never met Sylus before, but you were confident you were going to defeat him]

Tags | creampie, vaginal penetration, NSFW (smut), KO punch, gym sex.

Sylus entered the ring, his gaze falling upon you. A smirk growing on his face, an ignorant and confident one. He and you both sat in opposite corners of the ring, your guys' teachers putting mouth guards in your mouths.

You narrowed your eyes towards him.

Sylus leaned back on his stool, crossing his arms over his muscular chest. He deliberately flexed, knowing his body was a weapon - both inside and outside the ring. His smirk widened as he spoke to the ref. "She's cute. I'll break her pretty face." The crowd gasped.

You chuckled.

The bell rang, signaling the start of the fight. Sylus immediately launched himself at you, throwing a powerful jab. You easily dodged, countering with a quick uppercut that caught him off guard. He stumbled back slightly, his eyes widening in surprise and admiration. "Not bad...

"You better watch this", you counter a straight punch towards his jaw.

Sylus's eyes narrowed as he saw the punch coming. Instead of blocking, he leaned into it, allowing your fist to connect with his jaw. The crowd gasped, but Sylus just laughed, feeling the adrenaline rush. He used your momentum against you, grabbing your arm and pulling you in.

You pushed your elbow in a smooth swap backwards to his abdomen to make him fall on his knees.

Your elbow connected perfectly with his stomach, forcing the air out of his lungs. He went down on one knee, his face contorting in pain. The crowd was on their feet, cheering for you. Sylus looked up at you from the ground, his eyes blazing with a new kind of fire.

You swap back and forth to counter the next attack from him.

Sylus pushed himself back up, shaking off the pain. He charged at you again, throwing a flurry of punches this time. You danced around the ring, expertly dodging and weaving between his blows. The two of you moved like a deadly ballet, each step calculated and precise.

You keep pushing your luck as you dodge every punch but not able to give him another, so you force yourself, not to miss any chance to make him fall on his knees again.

Sylus was getting frustrated with your constant evasion. He was used to knocking opponents out quickly, not playing cat and mouse. When you finally left an opening, he saw it and took it—a powerful hook aimed straight at your ribcage. "Gotcha," he muttered confidently.

I fell on my knees this time, gasping.

You hit the ground hard, clutching your side. The crowd fell silent for a moment, waiting to see if you'd get back up. Sylus stood over you, panting heavily, his fist still clenched. He expected you to stay down, but instead, you slowly pushed yourself back up.

This is the last time if any of you touch the ground would be disqualified, you regain your composer as you calm your mind to not to fail your next move. In a split second you counter his attack, by your right knee you hit his left leg as he falls forward a bit you straightly gives a punch on his abdomen again.

His leg buckled from your knee hit, and your second punch landed squarely on his stomach, forcing out what little breath he had left. He fell backwards, struggling to maintain his balance and avoid hitting the ground. The crowd was on their feet again, cheering louder than ever. "Fuck..."

The referee started counting from backyard giving him time to get up again, within this 10 seconds if he can't get up again then you will be the victor.

The ref started counting loudly, "Ten... Nine... Eight..." Sylus gritted his teeth, trying to push past the pain. "Seven... Six..." He pushed off the ground slightly, testing his leg. "Five... Four..." He growled softly, pushing himself fully back up. "Three...Two" and "One", you won.

The ref's hand slammed down, the crowd erupted in cheers as the ref raised your hand high. You had won by knock out. Sylus stood there, panting heavily, his face a mask of disappointment and anger.

You smirked widely, "I won", you screamed louder.

You screamed in victory, your voice ringing out over the cheering crowd. Sylus's jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists. He hated losing, especially to someone as infuriatingly good-looking as you. The referee approached you, holding the victory belt high. "The winner by knock out..."

"Thank you so much", you smiled widely towards the referee.

The referee tried to wrap the belt around your waist, but Sylus suddenly stepped forward, interrupting them. He stood inches away from you, his breath still heavy from the fight. His usual confident smile was nowhere to be seen, "You fucking cheated..."

"Me? Cheating? Excuse me? The audiance are here and the referee too. Whom are you asking?", you ask Sylus.

The crowd hushed slightly, sensing the tension. Sylus's face was red with anger, his voice low and dangerous. "I said you cheated. You hit my leg when I was down. That's a dirty move."

"In boxing you can use your leg towards your opponent only to make them lose their composer and it's in the rule. Do you forget?", you said confidently.

The referee nodded confirmation, "She's right. It's a legal move. You can use your legs to sweep or trip your opponent as long as you're not kneeing or kicking their head or groin." He looked at Sylus. "She didn't break any rules."

Sylus's face turned even redder with embarrassment and anger. He knew he was wrong, but his pride wouldn't let him back down. "Fine! You won fair and square! But mark my words - next time we fight, there won't be any rules."

"Why do I fight with you without any rules?", you step forward.

The crowd held their breath as you stepped forward, closing the distance between you two. Sylus's eyes flashed with anger and something else - something intense and dangerous. He leaned down until his face was inches from yours. "Because I'm going to break every one of your pretty little bones."

"Ohh really", you chuckled.

His eyes narrowed, and a smirk played on his lips as he heard your chuckle. He knew you weren't intimidated, and it only made him more determined. "Yeah, really. You think you're tough? Let's see how tough you are when I don't have to hold back."

"You mean to say that you hold back yourself? Ohh c'mon", you taped on his shoulder, "I'm not showing you that I'm tough or not it's a game and I played well, that's it. And it doesn't make you a loser tho. In every game there is one winner, one loser but it doesn't certify your whole strength, so calm down."

His smirk widened at your words. You were right - he was a champion boxer, and one loss didn't define him. But god, you were infuriatingly smart and beautiful. He grabbed your wrist suddenly, pulling you closer. "Then prove it to me." His voice was low and challenging.

"What do you mean?", you snatched back your hand from his grip.

He ignored the snatch and stepped even closer, his hand reaching out to grab your chin and tilt your face up towards him. "I mean fight me again. No rules this time. Just you and me in the ring until one of us can't stand anymore." His thumb brushed over your bottom lip roughly.

You pushed on his chest as you looked around to the audience, "I came here for the match within the rules and I won. I'm not gonna do any other stuff on your behalf", you stepped out from the ring, grabbing your trophy.

His eyes followed you as you stepped out of the ring, holding your trophy with a proud smile. He clenched his fists at his sides, still seething with anger and something else - desire. He jumped out of the ring, ignoring the crowd's cheers and boos, and followed after you.

You walk fast to your dressing room to give the trophy to your coach.

Sylus caught up with you easily, his long legs eating up the distance. He grabbed your arm and spun you around, pressing you against the wall outside your dressing room. "I'm not done talking to you." His voice was low and dangerous.

You struggle, "what do you want, stubborn opponent?"

He pressed his body against yours, pinning you to the wall with his muscular frame. His hand moved from your arm to wrap around your throat, not squeezing but holding you in place. "I want you to fight me again. Tonight. In my gym. No rules, no audience, just raw strength."

"And I refuse your offer", you slammed his hand back from your throat.

Instead of letting go, Sylus tightened his grip on your throat slightly, not enough to hurt but enough to make you feel his strength. He leaned in closer, his lips nearly brushing your ear as he whispered, "Refuse all you want... but I'll be waiting for you at my gym tonight."

"I won't come", you grit your teeth.

Sylus released you abruptly, stepping back with a smirk. His eyes followed you as you turned and stormed into your dressing room. He knew you were stubborn, but he was even more so. He would wait for you at his gym tonight.

You close your eyes thinking of this incident, of course there is no need to meet your opponent outside the ring but somehow it's challenging to your self-confidence of being a boxer, your opponent calling you to test your strength again and you won't hold back, but why?

Meanwhile, Sylus was already at his gym, the lights dimmed and the heavy bag swinging. He punched it repeatedly, each hit fueled by his determination to break you down tonight. He couldn't understand why he was so obsessed with this fight, with you. "Why won't she just come?"

After thinking a lot, 'i won't backup, he was challenging me and I won't get defeated that easily' , you showed up in his empty gym.

He stood facing the heavy bag, his back to the door, punching it rhythmically. When he sensed your presence, he stopped suddenly and turned around slowly. The gym lights cast dramatic shadows across his face. "Took you long enough." He removed his gloves, letting them drop to the floor.

I look at you from head to toe, watching your sweaty body dripping down insanely, 'he is hot', your mind says. "Ahemm--- or what I thought you might hurt others in anger instead", you chuckled giving a lame joke.

A smirk played on his lips at your joke, but his eyes remained intense. "Funny. I wasn't planning to hurt anyone." He stepped closer, closing the distance between you two. The gym air was thick with tension and the scent of sweat. "No gloves tonight."

You arrowed your eyes, "will you do boxing with me or are you up for another kind of fight?"

His smirk grew more meaningful, catching the double meaning in your words. He crossed his muscular arms, staring down at you with challenge in his eyes. "Depends... which fight would make you sweat more?" He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Boxing or something else?"

You stepped back, "what do you mean?"

He took another step forward, closing the gap between you again. "You're a smart woman... you know exactly what I mean." He reached out and gently caught your wrist. "A real fight... where we test each other's limits. No rules. No holds barred." His eyes darkened.

You try to take your hand back from hid grip.

His grip on your wrist tightened as you tried to pull away, his other hand suddenly moving to grab your other wrist, pinning both of them above your head against the gym wall. He pressed his body flush against yours, trapping you. "Too late to back out now."

You struggle in his grip but you suddenly realise it's not that kinda fight his is pulling you in.

His face was inches away from yours, his breathing heavy. He wasn't trying to hurt you or overpower you in a boxing sense... instead, his grip was possessive, dominant. His eyes flickered to your lips briefly before meeting your gaze again. "This isn't a boxing match."

"Then why the fuck you called me here?", you said bluntly.

His expression darkened with desire at your blunt words. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered huskily, "I called you here because I want to fuck you. Hard. Against this wall. Right now."

sudden shiver gets down through your spine for his words as you breath heavily, "what? Are you crazy? What are you saying?"

He chuckled lowly against your ear, the sound sending another shiver down your spine. His hands released your wrists to slide down your arms slowly, intentionally touching you more than necessary. "I'm dead serious. I've wanted you since the first time I saw you in the ring."

You look up to meet his gaze, "nah nah Sylus you can't do this".

His eyes locked onto yours, burning with intensity and desire. "Watch me." His voice was a growl as he suddenly lifted you up by your thighs, pressing your back against the wall. Your legs wrapped around him instinctively.

"Uffff let me go.... I'm not...." You stutter.

He cut you off with a searing kiss, his lips claiming yours with a fierce hunger. His hands roamed over your body possessively as he kissed you, silencing any protests. He broke the kiss only to trail his lips down your neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin. "Shh..."

"Syl... Ahhhhhhhh", you moan a little.

He ignored your moan of protest, taking it as a sound of pleasure instead. His hands gripped your hips tightly as he grind his obvious erection against you through his gym shorts and your boxing shorts. He captured your mouth again in a deep kiss, his tongue pushing past your lips. "Fuck..."

"Sylus stop", you push him hard catching your breath, your eyes roaming on his body as you feel you are losing control too.

His abs contracted with your push. He watched you intently. Your eyes were dark, dropping down to his body then back up again. He saw your chest rise and fall rapidly, like you were trying to control something. He realized you were fighting your own desires too. He carried you to the gym mats, laying you down gently despite his aggressive actions. He quickly removed his shirt, revealing his chiseled abs, He hovered over you, his hands slowly pushing up your boxing shirt to expose your stomach. "Lift up." His hands continuing to push up your shirt until it was off completely. He threw it aside and leaned down to capture your lips again, this time with a hunger that left no room for argument. His hands moved to your shorts, slowly unbuttoning them as he kissed you deeper.

You're melting by his touch as his intensity eats you up.

Feeling your resistance fade away, he growled against your lips and quickly removed your shorts and panties in one swift motion. He broke the kiss only to trail open-mouthed kisses down your body - neck, collarbone, breasts, sucking your hard nipples - marking you with bites as he went lower.

You breathe heavily as you moan, "Sylus".

He ignored your whimper of his name, his hands spreading your thighs apart roughly. He buried his face between your legs without warning, his tongue pushing inside you suddenly. You arched off the mat with a loud moan, your hands gripping his hair tightly. "Shit..."

"Ahhhh fuck Sylus".

His tongue swirled inside you, making you curse again. He realized how easily your body reacted - your moans were loud, your hips lifted to meet his mouth, your fingers tightened in his hair. He spread your thighs wider apart and pushed two fingers inside you while sucking your clit. "Damn..."

You cry out louder.

"Fuck I'm gonna..... Cu.....ufff", you screamed.

He felt your walls clench around his fingers as you came hard against his mouth. He didn't stop - he kept licking and sucking until you were riding out every wave of pleasure, your body trembling beneath him. "That's it..." He whispered against your sensitive flesh before finally lifting his head.

After catching your breath, you get up from the mat as you clench his throat, "you bastard", you press your bare breast on his chest as you breath heavily.

He let you pull him by his throat, his fingers still glistening with your juices. A dark smirk played on his lips as he felt your naked breast pressed against his chest. "What are you gonna do now, huh?" His hands gripped your hips possessively. "Hit me?"

You smirk, "you pushed your opponent too much Sylus. I won't back up", you kissed him mercilessly.

He kissed you back with equal ferocity, his hands sliding up to cup your bare breasts. He broke the kiss only to lift you up effortlessly and pressed you against the wall, his hard length pressing between your legs. "Then fight me,"

"Ummmm in which way?", you push him on the mat again to sit on his lap this time.

He fell back onto the mat with a grunt, his hands automatically gripping your hips as you sat down on his lap, feeling his huge bulge pressing against your bare pussy. "In every fucking way." He leaned up to capture your mouth again, his hands squeezing your ass possessively.

You dig your nails on his bare chest as you murmur, 'damn'.

He hissed as your nails dug into his chest, his hips bucking up involuntarily, grinding his erection against your wet folds. He bit your bottom lip hard, making you yelp. His hands suddenly moved to grab both of your wrists and pin them above your head against the mat.

You don't fall behind as you roll up on him.

He tightened his abs as you tried to roll on top of him. He smirked darkly as you managed to flip him easily - you were a boxer too, after all. His length jumped against your belly as your naked bodies wrestled. Your breasts bounced with your movements.

Seeing his big cock that pressing against your belly you smirk widely, "fuck".

He saw your wide smirk as you felt his hard length against your belly. He smirked right back, his hips pushing up again intentionally, letting you feel every inch of his thick cock. His abs flexed with every movement - he was built like a fucking wall. "Like what you feel?"

"Yes", you whisper as your wet folds make a fiction on his cock, you haven't let it in you yet as you stimulate the pleasure.

He groaned loudly as your wet folds slid up and down his length, teasing him mercilessly. He could feel himself getting even harder, the head of his cock throbbing with need to be inside you. His hands gripped your hips tighter, trying to pull you down onto him.

"Aha not so fast, mah boy", you pulled him up towards you "kiss me".

He kissed you deeply, hungrily, his tongue invading your mouth as he tried to pour all his pent-up desire into the kiss. His hands roamed over your body, squeezing and caressing every curve. He could feel himself leaking pre-cum onto your belly as he kissed you, desperate for more.

"Fuck me....", you spilled the command, desperate to conquer your desires.

His eyes darkened dangerously. "There she is." He muttered softly. He flipped you easily without warning, making you yelp. He spread your thighs roughly, his huge body positioning between them. He slapped his length on your belly twice - teasingly - before pushing just the head inside your entrance slowly.

"More. Please." You moan.

He smirked at your pleading, holding himself still just barely inside you. His hands gripped your thighs roughly, opening you wider. "You want it... beg properly." He teased, though his breathing was heavy with restraint. His massive dick throbbed with anticipation, ready to fill you completely.

You still plan to tease him again, "If I won't, will you not fuck me? Huh?"

His smirk dropped, replaced with a dangerous glare as he pulled out completely, making you whine at the sudden loss of contact. He chuckled darkly, his hands moving to pin your wrists above your head again as he settled between your legs once more. "Oh really? You think you can win?"

"Yes I can", you whisper in a husky voice.

His eyes narrowed, and he pressed his cock against your entrance again, teasing you with just the tip. "Is that so?" he growled, his voice low and challenging. He moved slightly to rub against your clit with each word for added torment.

You moan louder, "you tease".

He chuckled darkly, his movements becoming more deliberate as he rubbed himself against you, avoiding pushing inside completely. He knew exactly how to drive you crazy without actually fucking you - he was a boxer, after all. His body was trained for endurance and control. "I am."

You read his expression as you lift your left leg on his waist, and move your other leg too, to move around his waist.

He froze as you suddenly moved your legs around his waist, his arms automatically wrapping around your thighs to keep you steady. He was now completely exposed between your legs, his huge cock trapped between us. He looked down at you, his eyes filled with surprise and something darker - arousal. "Smart move."

"You are playing with fire. Mr. Crow", you wink at him.

His control snapped at your wink. He gripped your thighs tightly and slammed his hips forward, burying himself deep inside you in one powerful thrust. He filled you completely, his massive length stretching you wide. "Fuck," he groaned, losing all pretense of teasing. "I know."

"Ahhhh gwwwaadddd, there you are", you moan louder.

He began to move inside you, his thrusts powerful and deep as he finally released all the pent-up desire and frustration. He grabbed your legs and pushed them back, holding them open wide as he pounded into you mercilessly. "And you're playing with fire by being so damn fuckable."

You giggle as you enjoy the each thrust.

He watched your face as you moaned and giggled, his arousal reaching new heights. He loved the way your body wrapped around his, the way you took every inch of him like a pro. He leaned forward, his face hovering above yours as he continued to thrust into you. "You little..."

You kiss softly on his lips, "little what?"

He kissed you back, his thrusts not slowing down for a moment. "Little tease," he growled against your lips, his voice rough with lust. He broke the kiss and looked into your eyes, his hips moving faster. "You know exactly what you're doing to me."

"You are doing the same to me".

He chuckled deeply, his hips moving in slow, deep thrusts suddenly. "True." He admitted softly, watching your body closely. He saw how your chest rose and fell rapidly with each thrust, your breasts bouncing slightly. He lowered his voice, "Let me ask you something honest?"

"What?", you asked.

He maintained his steady rhythm, hitting that spot deep inside you that made your breath catch. "If I stopped moving right now..." His voice dropped even lower, "Would you beg me to keep going?" He paused his movements entirely, leaving just the tip inside.

You lean forward, "and you won't even stop, I bet, you smirk.

He smirked back, his eyes glinting with mischief and desire. "You're right." He suddenly snapped his hips forward, filling you completely again in one swift movement. He started moving again - fast and deep - proving his point. "I couldn't stop even if I tried."

"ohhh I love it", you said in a shaky voice.

At your breathless confession, he felt his control slipping again. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head with one hand, while the other gripped your hip, driving into you harder. "Fuck, don't say things like that."

You narrowed your eyes in pleasure, "Sylus more. Harder".

His entire body tensed at your command, a primal sound escaping his throat. "Demanding little..." He pulled almost all the way out, then slammed back into you so hard. "Is this what you wanted?" He sped up his pace, completely losing control now.

"Just don't stop", you keep panting.

He didn't stop. He couldn't stop. He was too far gone, too consumed by the feeling of being inside you, hearing you moan and beg for more. His movements became almost violent in their intensity, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. "I won't stop".

You feel each thrust as you moan louder, echoing the entire gym.

He watched your face contort with pleasure, your moans growing louder with each thrust. He felt your body tightening around him, your nails digging into the skin on his back where you were holding onto him for dear life. "That's it," he encouraged breathlessly.

"Cum in me", you said out of your mind, "please".

At your desperate plea, he felt his release approaching rapidly. He buried his face in your neck, his hips stuttering as he spilled himself inside you, filling you completely. He bit down on your shoulder to muffle his own loud groan of pleasure. "Fuck...fuck..."

His hot cum makes you fall apart as you feel your own orgasm mixing up together.

He felt your orgasm hit you like a truck, your body convulsing underneath him, your inner muscles tightening around him like a vise. He swore again, pushing into you deeply again and again, releasing more hot streams of cum inside you. He watched your chest arch, heard your loud moan, "Jesus..."

You hold your breath just to feel the pleasure of your pick.

He noticed your breath hitching and your body trembling beneath him. He slowed his thrusts slightly but kept moving, drawing out your pleasure as long as possible. His cock pulsed inside you, still leaking cum with each movement. "Feel that?"

You bite down your lower lips as you nod in satisfaction.

He watched your lips part and your tongue dart out to wet them. His hips moved in slow circles, grinding his hips against yours and pushing his cum even deeper inside you. "You like feeling my cum inside you, don't you?" His voice was low and rough with satisfaction.

"Specially when I'm fucking my handsome opponent", you smirk.

His heart skipped a beat at your words. He leaned down and kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth while he continued to grind against you slowly. "And I love fucking my beautiful enemy." He whispered against your lips before kissing you again.

You bit your lips hard as you pull a little to say, "don't fall in love with this enemy then", you wink at him.

He laughed softly, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled you back into the kiss, biting your lip back harder this time. "Too late," He murmured against your mouth before capturing your lips again aggressively. "I'm already fucking obsessed with you."

"Dang me too", you murmur under your breath.

He wrapped his arms around you tightly, holding you close as he continued to kiss you slowly this time. "So what do we do now?" He asked softly between kisses. "Keep fighting each other?" He pulled back slightly to look into your eyes.

"Yes, inside the ring and outside of it, we will fuck each other like this", you grin mischievously.

A slow, dirty grin spread across his face as he chuckled. "Deal." He tapped your nose playfully before kissing you softly one more time. "Inside the ring, we're enemies. Outside the ring..." He spread your legs wider and thrust slowly inside you again.

You whimper and arch your back to add more.

He obliged, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back in deep and slow. He watched your expression carefully - the way your eyes rolled back slightly, how your lips parted in a whimper. He repeated the motion, driving deeper each time. "Outside the ring...we fuck like this."

You giggle, "and what?"

He smirked, his movements picking up pace but still slow and deep. "Or I pin you against the locker room wall and eat you out until you can't stand." He leaned down to bite your neck softly. "Or I take you in my car, right there in the parking lot."

"And fuck again and again", you breath heavily.

He chuckled, his breath hot against your neck. "In my bed, in your bed, on the floor, in the shower..." He thrust especially deep, hitting that spot inside you that made you gasp.

"You are so my type, you bastard." You laugh as your muffled breath echoes the gym.

He growled possessively, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he continued to fuck you slowly and deeply against the cold gym floor. "And you're mine. My enemy inside the ring...my obsession outside of it." He leaned down to capture your lips in a fierce kiss as he came inside you.

You feel your wetness dripping down from your thighs, his cum leaking from your drenched pussy.

He noticed the wetness and groaned softly, pulling out slowly to watch his cum leak out of you. He rubbed the head of his cock against your clit gently, spreading his own release. "Fucking hell," He muttered, pushing back inside slowly.

"Ummmmm", you moan again as you feel your orgasm hitting you again.

He felt your walls clench around him tightly as you came again, his name escaping your lips in a moan. He kept pushing in and out slowly, drawing out your orgasm until you were shaking and sensitive. Then he pulled out completely, his cum dripping out of you onto the gym floor. "Mine".

"You are mine too", you kiss him possessively for the last as you both fell on the floor, finally exhausted.

He kissed you back deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth one last time before he finally pulled away, panting heavily. He looked down at you, both of your bodies glistening with sweat and his cum leaking out of your pussy.

"Let's go...", you added after catching your breath.

"Where?" He asked curiously.

"Let's get some food", you kiss him again softly. "I'm hungry".

He laughed softly, taking your shirt and helping you put it back on before grabbing your shorts and holding them open for you to step into. He pulled them up slowly, his fingers brushing against your sensitive pussy as he adjusted the fabric. "There," He said, smacking your ass playfully. He wrapping an arm around your waist as you walking out of the gym together. His fingers brushed against your hip gently, his mind still on the sex what just had. "Starving?" he agreed, giving you a quick peck on the lips as you exited the building.

"What do you wanna eat?", you ask him as you both walk together to the parking lot.

He thought for a moment. "I'm craving something heavy," he said, looking down at you with hungry eyes. "How about we get some burgers and fries? And maybe a milkshake?" He paused, then added, "Or..." He leaned in closer and whisper.

You furrowed, "what else?"

His eyes darkened slightly. Then he dropped his voice lower, "Or I could eat you out again instead of dinner." He watched your reaction carefully, smirking slightly.

"outside the ring, remember?", he smirked.

[cottoncandylesbo]

pigs look quite dignified eating slop. i don't know anyone who could eat slop better than a pig. could you? probably not. i know i couldn't. and yeah, i get it, pigs are sort of made to eat slop. (stirs my coffee and stares at it silently for a moment or two. my forehead wrinkles for a split second) they're better than us at eating slop. who can blame them? if i had a snout like that i'd be thankful i had slop to eat it with. yeah. i would be so grateful for my slop snout.

[vxnillabxn]

𐙚˙⋆.˚ xavier x gn!reader ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ as fluffy as xav's hair! ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ sfw! ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ do not translate/copy/repost! ꒰੭

﹙♡﹚this man makes me so soft. xav is unintentionally cute ♡ ꒰ˆ◞⸝⸝◟ˆ ꒱੭ﾞ

you were mindlessly scrolling through your phone when a subtle knock on the door made you look up. a bit reluctantly, you stood up. you didn't really feel like having guests over, especially not when you'd just been so comfy a few seconds ago.

however, when you opened the door, you saw him —holding a brush and a hairdryer, a towel draped over his shoulders, dressed in loose yet warm clothes.

no other than your cute neighbor, xavier.

“hi,” he mumbled softly, smiling sheepishly.

you returned his smile. “hey, xav. everything okay?”

he sighed and gestured toward your apartment, silently asking if he could come in. you stepped aside to let him in, obviously. since you two were in this… “we like each other but haven't confessed yet” sort of situationship, even small visits like this felt intense.

he shifted nervously before sitting down.

“there was a power outage in my apartment and…” he lifted the hairdryer a little. “i can't dry my hair.”

you giggled, sitting next to him. “you forgot to pay the bill or something, xav?”

he shook his head, smiling.

“no. i accidentally… tried to plug in too many things at once, and it obviously didn't work out.”

miraculously, he hadn't burned down the entire building.

“well, then i'd rather handle things… just to be safe. allow me.”

you reached out for the brush first and the hairdryer. after plugging it in, you knelt behind him on the sofa and gently got to work.

at first, you rubbed his head with the towel resting on his shoulders. his hair looked so fluffy, almost like a puppy's after a bath. he closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh as you brushed and dried his silky strands, occasionally combing them through with your fingers too.

then, you turned on the hairdryer, keeping it on low so you wouldn't burn his scalp —or your hands, since you insisted on running your fingers through to check if it was dry enough.

after about twenty minutes, you finally turned off the machine and combed his hair a bit more. based on how still he was, you'd think he'd fallen asleep.

smiling, you stood up and carefully stepped between his legs to brush the front. gently, you lifted his chin, noticing just how cute he looked right now.

his shampoo smelled nice, and his sweater still felt warm, like he'd just pulled it from the dryer before coming over.

of course, you didn't realize how long you'd been staring —until his big, bright blue eyes looked up at you curiously.

the tip of his nose was a little pink, and his lips were parted. you two were so close you could feel each other's breaths, and you didn't know how to pull away without making it awkward.

“uhm… did you finish?” he asked quietly, breaking the silent spell.

“huh? oh… oh! yes!” you quickly snapped out of it and tried to step back, but with his legs on either side of you, you stumbled.

with a quiet thud, you landed on your backside, and xavier immediately knelt in front of you.

“are you okay?” he asked, brows knitting in concern.

you almost laughed at your own clumsiness —but, honestly, you also had other ideas in mind.

without thinking too much, you reached up and pulled him down by the nape.

he froze for a split second, but didn't move away. in fact, he swallowed hard, and so did you.

you both shared a nervous little giggle before leaning closer. it was finally happening.

when your noses brushed and your eyes met again…

the power went out.

darkness filled your apartment, and you closed your eyes in quiet frustration.

right. the hairdryer —you'd left it plugged in, along with your charger, the lamp, and the humidifier next to the couch.

“i think… my hairdryer might be problematic,” he said softly, though you could hear the playful smile in his voice.

“yeah… that might be it.”

you weren't mad, though. not when you still had his body so close to yours. and even if the kiss you'd both wanted so badly had been interrupted, at least now you knew he wanted it as much as you did.

maybe, after all, the little chaos that seemed to follow him might lead to something wonderful.

he could blackout the entire city if he wanted… just to see where it would take the two of you next.

[paxaz535]

PHOENIX - group

——————-

whereas you come to uconn with a secret and find out you’re not the only person with a secret.

all fake, vampire mention , language

————————————

the moment you stepped foot onto the university of connecticut’s campus, you felt it—something was off. someone here wasn’t normal. actually, multiple someones. you had a secret. a big one. one that was supposed to stay buried.

you didn’t feel the urge yet. not fully. but you knew they were close. as you walked through the campus, you scanned everyone. students studying under trees, people lounging on the grass, walking with friends—everything looked normal. exactly how a college should look.

but the feeling never left.

you had a gift. or maybe a curse. the ability to sense who was normal and who… wasn’t. the closer you got to the athlete center, the stronger the feeling grew. your tour guide, full of energy and pride, was practically bouncing.

“this is the women’s basketball facility,” he said, pushing the doors open. “they’re actually in there practicing right now. i’m the coach’s nephew.”

you nodded, face unreadable. you walked with a quiet confidence. your outfit was eye-catching but still tasteful—enough to hold attention without crossing the line. the second the gym doors opened, the urge hit you. hard.

they were in here.

“uncle geno!” the tour guide called out.

and just like that, the gym fell silent.

you glanced around. girls in basketball attire, sneakers squeaking against the floor, orange balls rolling lazily across the hardwood. but your eyes stayed glued to a certain four.

they weren’t normal. you didn’t know what they were exactly, but human wasn’t the word. and the way they were looking back at you?

yeah.

they knew you weren’t normal either.

“how’s it going, mitchell?” a voice called out—gravelly but warm. the older man walked over, towel slung around his shoulder. “showing a new student around,” mitchell grinned, pulling him into a hug. “thought i’d come by to say hello.” the man—geno, presumably—looked at you now. his expression wasn’t unkind, but it wasn’t casual either.

you gave him a polite nod.

but your mind wasn’t on him.

you could feel it again—the tension, the pull, that almost magnetic energy—and it was coming straight from them. the tall one with the sharp jaw and narrowed eyes.

the blonde with the unreadable stare and coiled strength in her posture. the quiet one in the corner who looked like she already knew too much. and the last—calm, composed, but her energy flared the strongest.

you had no idea what this was.

but something told you it was going to change everything.

“what’s your name, little one?” geno asked. you felt them before you saw them move, but now the entire basketball team was drawing closer—closing in around you. especially them. that certain group of four. you were surrounded.

they were all tall, athletic, confident.

for a split second, you felt small. maybe even a little intimidated. but you didn’t show it. your eyes snapped back to the coach, and you offered a small, knowing smile.

“you can call me xai.”

geno nodded, arms crossing over his chest as he studied you. “nice to meet you, xai. i hope mitch over here isn’t giving you any trouble.” mitchell groaned and rolled his eyes. “seriously?” you gave a soft chuckle, eyes flicking to him, then drifting back—settling right on the four.

“don’t worry. he’s not,” you said smoothly, voice calm, almost amused.

your gaze locked with azzi’s first. her stare was steady. unreadable. then nika’s—curious, suspicious, maybe even intrigued. paige met your eyes like she already knew what you were. and aubrey… she tilted her head slightly, expression calm, but you could feel the tension under her surface.

they were trying to figure you out.

but the truth was, you weren’t sure what they were either.

you just knew one thing:

this wasn’t over.

you then noticed something.

each of them had on jewelry.

paige—she wore a silver bracelet with a strange design etched into it. it wrapped tightly around her wrist like it had been molded just for her. azzi had a gold ring on her index finger, simple but sharp, a single diamond catching the gym light every time she moved.

nika wore a necklace. silver chain, but the pendant stood out—gold crystals forming the shape of an infinity loop. it pulsed in a way that didn’t seem like a trick of the light. and aubrey—she had on medium-sized stud earrings, silver, each one shaped like a crescent if you looked at them long enough.

you glanced around. the rest of the team? nothing. not a bracelet, not a ring, not even a stray hair tie on a wrist. and even though you didn’t play sports, you were pretty sure jewelry wasn’t allowed during practice.

still, no one seemed to question it.

maybe they didn’t see it.

you had a little something too. a nose ring. small, but noticeable if someone looked close enough.

wanna guess the shape?

a bird.

but not any type of bird.

you clocked all of that in seconds—but said nothing. just shifted your attention smoothly back to the coach, like none of it meant anything.

but it did.

you knew it did.

“well, it was nice meeting you. i’m guessing we’ll see you around?” geno asked, extending a hand. you glanced down at it before placing your hand in his, giving it a firm shake. “you might,” you said with a smirk. “depends on how i’m feeling.” he let out a low chuckle, nodding before turning his attention back to mitchell.

you took that moment to look at the team again.

they all had their own thing going—different energy, different looks—but each one of them? fine.

and the fact that they could hoop?

definitely didn’t hurt.

“you’re really pretty.”

you turned toward the voice.

a girl stood a few feet away, dark twists pulled back into a high ponytail, eyes steady on you. your smile came naturally as you straightened your posture, head tilting slightly. “thank you,” you said. “what’s your name?”

“kk,” she answered quickly, like she’d been waiting for you to ask. “don’t even try it, kamorea. you’re way too young,” another girl chimed in, her blonde braids swaying as she stepped closer.

you giggled softly, your eyes sliding over to her with a hint of amusement. “i’m ice,” she said, smirking. “it’s nice to meet you.”

“you too,” you replied with a small nod, though your attention wasn’t fully on her.

because you could still feel it—those four gazes pressing in on you, lingering like heat against your skin.

they hadn’t looked away once.

“something’s off about her,” paige whispered, her voice low as she leaned in toward the others. azzi didn’t respond, still studying you with that unreadable stare. nika’s brow furrowed just slightly. “nah,” she murmured. “not off. just… different.”

“either way,” aubrey said under her breath, “she felt us the second she walked in.”

none of them argued with her.

you were still smiling politely at ice and kk, but deep down?

yeah—

you heard everything.

“welp. i’m sure these girls are busy—come on, xai,” mitchell said, nodding his head toward the doors. you

turned toward him, expression calm. “it was nice meeting everyone,” you said, your voice smooth, polite. “see you soon, hopefully.”

you followed mitchell out, your steps steady, unfazed.

but just before leaving, you glanced back.

not at the whole team.

just them.

the four.

your eyes locked with each one, just for a second longer than necessary. and in that look, you didn’t say a word.

but the message was clear.

you see them.

and you know they see you.

then the door shut behind you.

and the gym didn’t feel quite the same anymore.

you and mitchell walked for a while, his voice filling the space between you with facts about the school, the programs, the history—none of which you were really listening to. your mind was elsewhere.

those four.

you couldn’t shake the way they looked at you. like they knew something. like they felt it—the same pull, the same off-kilter hum under the surface.

you played it cool, smiled when mitchell cracked a joke, nodded at the right times. but the second he walked off to take a phone call, you drifted away, slipping behind one of the campus buildings and into the shade.

the energy out here was quieter. but it still clung to your skin.

you leaned against the wall, letting out a slow breath as you reached up to touch your nose ring. there was a reason you wore it. a reason you were drawn to places like this. people like them.

you didn’t know what they were yet, but they weren’t regular. you felt that in your bones. and you’d learned a long time ago—when you felt that kind of energy, it meant one of two things.

a threat.

or a connection.

you didn’t know which one they’d turn out to be.

but something told you…

you’d be finding out soon.

-

it was your first time going to the dining hall at uconn, and surprisingly, it was chill. nothing too chaotic. nothing that put you on edge. so you let yourself relax a little. you considered taking off your nose ring—just to feel a little lighter—but something told you to leave it on.

as you made your way downstairs, your eyes scanned the crowd and immediately landed on the basketball team. they were hard to miss. and honestly, they were the only people you even halfway knew here. that made them feel… safe. familiar, in a weird way.

kk spotted you first. her smile lit up the second she saw you.

“yo, xai!”

you smiled back, soft and easy, and headed toward her voice. she tracked you the whole way across the room until you landed right beside her.

“how’s it going?” ice asked, a half-eaten slice of pizza in her hand as she looked up at you.

“not bad,” you said, setting your tray down. “first time in here. kinda expected more chaos.”

“nah, it gets wild on game days,” kk replied, nudging your arm lightly. “right now it’s calm. you got lucky.”

you nodded, eyes flicking toward the rest of the table. nika, paige, azzi, and aubrey were all there too. they didn’t say anything at first, but their eyes were on you. watching. waiting. not unkind—just… alert.

“you sit with us,” kk added, scooting down and making room. no hesitation.

you took the seat beside her with a small grin.

“gladly.”

you could feel yourself easing into it. the conversation flowed naturally—laughs here and there, light teasing between bites. paige cracked a dry joke that made aubrey roll her eyes. azzi was quiet, but you caught her watching you more than once, especially when you spoke. she didn’t miss a thing.

“you actually trusted the dining hall chicken?” ice asked, leaning in with raised brows. “bold.”

you chuckled, stabbing a piece with your fork.

“i like to live dangerously.”

they laughed. real, genuine. it wasn’t loud or overwhelming. it felt… good.

but even with the jokes and smiles, you noticed it—how nika’s eyes kept drifting to your piercing. how her fingers brushed against the pendant around her own neck, like it was instinct. like she was making sure it was still there.

you hadn’t taken yours off. something in your gut told you not to.

and looking around the table—at the bracelets, the rings, the earrings—they hadn’t either.

you didn’t know what any of it meant yet.

but whatever it was, you weren’t imagining it.

and they knew you weren’t, either.

around an hour later, you decided it was time to head back to your dorm. the dining hall had started to thin out, the noise fading into low, casual chatter. you stood up with your trash in hand, giving the group one last glance.

“thanks for letting me sit at your table, kk,” you said, offering her a soft smile. “it was nice getting to know everybody.”

a harmless, polite statement.

but it was a lie.

because you didn’t get to know everybody.

not really.

not paige, who barely said a word but never once stopped watching you.

not azzi, who looked like she already had you figured out but was keeping her thoughts to herself.

not aubrey, who was guarded even when she was laughing.

and definitely not nika—whose eyes kept finding your necklace like it meant something to her.

you gave kk’s shoulder a gentle squeeze before turning and making your way out. the exit was a straight shot, but even with your back turned, you could still feel their attention trailing behind you.

you didn’t need to look to know they were watching again.

because you weren’t just some new girl anymore.

you were a presence.

and they felt it as much as you did.

-

it was quite a walk back to your room. it was dark and you were alone, but you weren’t scared. you weren’t scared because you knew what you were. nothing scared you. not even death. you were getting closer to your room when you heard something—a snap, maybe a crunch of a leaf. someone was following you. your senses instantly sharpened, every nerve alert. you stopped in your tracks and went completely silent, waiting and listening.

you realized.

and then you smiled.

“i hope you know i can hear you.”

your voice wasn’t loud, but it carried. smooth. certain.

you turned around slowly, eyes scanning the darkness with purpose. it was quiet—silent, almost. a faint car rolled by somewhere in the distance. the steady hum of a streetlamp buzzed above you. you stood in the middle of a dim parking lot, your shadow stretched across the pavement.

but you weren’t alone.

and you knew it.

as you expected—four figures stepped out from the shadows.

they didn’t speak. they didn’t have to.

nika. paige. azzi. aubrey.

their presence filled the air, heavy and electric. each of them still in their own clothes from earlier, but somehow… they looked different out here. sharper. more real.

they didn’t walk like they were curious anymore.

they walked like they had made a decision.

and still—you didn’t flinch.

you simply watched them, your fingers grazing the phoenix at your nose, the metal warm against your skin.

“you coming to say hi,” you said, voice low, “or something else?”

no one answered.

not yet.

they just kept walking.

and you stood there, waiting.

ready.

then their eyes started to glow—red, vivid and sharp, like coals flickering in the dark. all four of them. it wasn’t a trick of the light. it wasn’t fear playing games with your mind. it was real, and it confirmed everything you’d suspected.

vampires.

your heart didn’t race in panic—it surged with something else. excitement. satisfaction. something about the truth settling in made you feel alive in a way nothing else had. you smiled, slow and sure, the kind of smile that came from finally seeing things clearly.

“hm,” you said, your voice low, laced with intrigue. “so i was right.” nika stepped closer, her expression unchanged, but her mouth parted just enough to reveal fangs—sharp and flawless. “good job,” she said coolly, like this was some kind of test you’d just passed. her voice was smooth, calm, but you caught the edge in it. you didn’t step back. didn’t move. you held her gaze, and for the first time since this dance began, it felt like the rules had finally been laid bare.

you weren’t afraid of monsters. because you weren’t just someone who recognized them—you belonged in the dark, too. “what made you realize?” paige asked from behind nika, her voice steady, her red eyes still locked on you.

you chuckled, shaking your head slightly as you looked at them all. “well, you all helped me. it was obvious.”

you stepped forward, your attention shifting to nika first. you glanced down at the necklace resting against her chest—the same one you’d noticed earlier. “i peeped it today. when i was at your practice.”

then you moved, slow and deliberate, walking right over to azzi. you reached for her hand without hesitation, gently lifting it to get a better look at the gold ring on her finger. “you each had on a form of jewelry.”

next was paige. you approached her just the same, lightly grabbing her arm and turning it so her bracelet caught the light. she didn’t flinch. none of them did. they let you touch them. let you confirm it for yourself.

last was aubrey. you reached up, your fingers grazing the silver studs in her ears. “cute,” you murmured. then you backed up, returning to your original spot with a grin still stretched across your face.

“you’re not supposed to wear jewelry during practice… aren’t you?”

nika didn’t answer. none of them did. but the silence was louder than anything they could’ve said.

“right.”

you let your eyes roam over them one more time. they weren’t tense. they weren’t afraid. they looked calm—like something unspoken had finally settled between you. maybe even relieved. “i’m guessing these help you during the day?” you asked, arms now crossed over your chest, your voice curious but steady.

there was a pause, and then—

“you can say that,” azzi replied, her gaze never leaving yours.

simple. direct. true.

you hummed, low in your throat, the sound thoughtful but edged with something darker.

“i hope you all aren’t out here killing innocent people,” you said softly, your tone gentle but laced with quiet warning.

paige responded before anyone else could. her voice cut through the air like a blade. “we gotta do what we gotta do to survive. keep talking like this and you just might be next.”

a threat. clear as day.

was she serious? maybe. maybe not.

but it made you laugh anyway. not nervous or mocking—real amusement, rich and easy, your pearly whites showing as your grin widened.

“oh, baby,” you said, your voice smooth as silk, eyes dancing. “i wouldn’t do that if i were you.”

aubrey stepped forward this time, something different flickering in her expression. not aggression. not fear. curiosity. her eyes scanned your face like she was trying to decode a secret she hadn’t heard in centuries.

“why?” she asked. “what are you?”

the question hung in the air like smoke.

and for the first time tonight—

you didn’t smile.

“well, aubrey,” you began, your voice calm but carrying weight—

then, suddenly, your eyes flashed yellow, glowing bright like molten gold. from your back, magnificent wings unfurled, matching the vivid shade of your eyes and casting a soft golden light all around you.

their eyes snapped back to their natural colors, shock washing over their faces as they took in the sight.

“guess,” you said simply, your grin widening.

“holy shit,” nika breathed, eyes fixed on your wings in awe.

“you’re a phoenix,” azzi said, stepping forward, her voice steady but filled with wonder.

you smiled again, the tiny phoenix-shaped nose ring on your face flickering faintly with the same golden glow.

“bingo,” you replied.

aubrey’s gaze lingered on your wings, fascination clear in her eyes. “so even if you did kill me,” you teased lightly, giggling, “it wouldn’t matter… because i’d just come back.”

slowly, your eyes softened back to their usual color, and with a graceful movement, you folded your wings back against your body.

just like that, the five of you looked like ordinary women standing in a quiet parking lot—nothing supernatural, nothing out of the ordinary.

but the truth between you was anything but normal.

the air hung heavy for a moment, the glow fading but the energy still thick between you all. aubrey blinked, breaking the silence first. “so… you’re not just some new girl, huh?”

you chuckled softly, folding your arms as you faced them. “nope. far from it.”

paige stepped forward, her gaze sharp but less guarded now. “why’d you come here? to uconn, i mean.”

you considered the question, your eyes flickering over each of them. “to find others like me. to figure out where i belong.”

nika’s lips twitched into a small smile. “guess you found us.”

“maybe,” you said, voice low and confident. “or maybe i’m exactly what you didn’t know you needed.”

azzi raised an eyebrow but said nothing, watching you carefully.

aubrey’s curiosity seemed to deepen. “what do you want from us?”

you shrugged, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “for now? just a chance to prove i’m not a threat.”

the four exchanged glances, the tension easing just a bit. you could feel the unspoken understanding beginning to build—a fragile alliance forming in the dark.

and somehow, it felt like the start of something inevitable.

the silence stretched between you all, charged with possibility. finally, paige broke it, her voice softer now, less sharp. “if you’re serious about that… we’ll be watching. making sure.”

you nodded, accepting the unspoken terms. “fair.”

nika stepped forward, her eyes locking with yours. “you’ll need to learn a lot—about us.”

“i’m ready,” you said without hesitation.

azzi smirked, a hint of warmth breaking through her usual reserve. “welcome to the family, phoenix.”

aubrey laughed quietly, shaking her head in disbelief. “didn’t think this was how my night would go.”

you smiled, feeling a strange sense of belonging settle over you. the moon hung high above, casting silver light on the four vampires—and you, the phoenix—standing together in that empty parking lot.

whatever came next, you knew one thing for sure: nothing would ever be the same again.

[ko-existing]

https://www.tumblr.com/ko-existing/787662538590584832/do-you-ever-grieved-for-the-dream-once-you?source=share

how so?

You're "grieving" because there's still misidentification happening — a sense that you, the person, are watching something meaningful slip away. But if it’s really seen that it was never real to begin with, not even for a second, what’s left to grieve? It doesn't matter if you use the words 'illusory''. It doesn't mean you see it like that.

It’s like realizing a shimmering oasis in the desert is a mirage. Once you see clearly that there was never any water, do you walk away heartbroken? Of course not. There’s nothing to mourn because there was nothing there. Just like you wouldn’t wake up from a dream where you were famous or in love or flying and grieve it the next morning — it was a passing appearance. It never had weight. It never actually happened.

The phrase “I grieve the illusion” sounds poetic, but it doesn’t make sense when it’s seen clearly. If the world is illusory and the person is illusory, what is grieving what? It’s just thoughts looping on themselves, trying to find ground in something groundless. The grief arises only if it’s believed something real was lost.

But here’s where a big misunderstanding shows up for a lot of people — especially if they’re just reading and reading without truly seeing it for themselves: they start thinking I’m saying you should feel nothing, like you should become some robot or mountain monk detached from all emotion, sitting silently in the Himalayas next to a snow lion or something. That’s not it at all.

Look — feelings come and go. Happiness, grief, laughter, joy — they appear, they stay a while, and they subside. That doesn’t mean they’re “real” in the solid, lasting sense. They’re just part of the play, like weather passing through an open sky. No one needs to suppress anything. No one can — because there’s no person doing it to begin with.

I mean, just yesterday (actually not even 24h ago) I found a rare jacket I’ve been wanting for months, and I was grinning like someone who solved a centuries-old math puzzle. If it had sold out before I could grab it, I would’ve been devastated. That’s how it plays out sometimes. It's all spontaneous and planned at the same time. One big Paradox for no one experienced by no one. The difference is: none of that touches what 'I Am'. The joy or devastation is a movement within the field, not evidence of a solid “me” living a life. "Awareness" isn’t being stoic or detached. It’s not a monk. It’s not a robot. It’s not even something you become. It’s simply what is — beyond description, yet effortlessly present.

So — PSA for everyone, not just that anon — stop turning this into some mental maze. People message me all the time saying “I’m so sad my family isn’t real,” or “so if I’m real and the world isn’t, what’s the point?” But that’s not it either. That’s still personal identity trying to survive by splitting reality: “I’m the special one and the rest is fake.” No. If one thing is unreal, everything is. If one thing is real, everything must be. It’s not pick-and-choose. This is total. Either the whole dream is a dream — or none of it is.

And yes, it can be very simple. People don't believe that when I say it didn't take me long. They ask, “Then why does it take others years?” How would I know? Go ask them! Maybe they keep reading instead of seeing. Maybe they overcomplicate. Maybe they want an experience. I didn’t. I wasn’t even lurking on Tumblr or endlessly scrolling. I just stopped and looked.

So stop thinking reading will save you. You’re not trying to collect information — you’re trying to notice what never stopped being here. And for that, no books, posts, or teachers can do it for you. Just look.

[fernsplace]

FAMILY TREE! *ೃ༄

summary: he raised you better than this. he raised you to be good. you're made to think you've contaminated your family's reputation. all in the search for the truth. word ct: 1.9k content: angry father. verbal abuse. religious themes. negative views of religion. religious guilt. unclean, in the biblical sense. soft!sam. suggestive ending. emotional intimacy. notes: this is the fifth chapter of my series, PREACHER'S DAUGHTER!

─ ˙༺ ♱ ༻

< CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER SIX >

your father’s grip on the steering wheel is tight, his knuckles white and angry. he doesn’t speak, doesn’t look at you. the gravel road rattles the car, and every bump feels like a bruise.

your mother sits in the passenger seat, lips pressed tightly together. her hands are folded near in her lap. is she praying or bracing herself for what’s to come? you wonder if prayer is necessary.

inside, the light are too bright. like a spotlight. you go straight to your room, figuring you’d be sent there anyway. better to get out of the rain now than wait for the storm.

you stand still for a moment in the center of your room, afraid to get comfortable. you’re unsure what to do with youself. for split second you consider getting down on your knees.

you hear the creak of floorboards and a knock follows. then your father’s voice, low and steady. "come out here."

you obey. not because you want to, but because it’s easier this way. you follow him to the kitchen, where he leans against the counter. arms crossed. you hold your breath.

“sit”, he says. not unkindly. that’s what scares you most.

your mother hovers near the hallway, arms wrapped around herself. her eyes follow you as you take a seat. the silence stretches too long. then your father speaks.

“do you know what it looks like?” he starts, “for the preacher’s daughter to sneak out of church? with a boy?”

you don't answer, and he leans forward. when the preacher talks, he demands his silence.

"do you know what it does to your name? to your mother’s? to mine?"

you feel it in your stomach. a sickening mix of guilt and resentment.

he exhales through his nose. you can tell he’s trying to bury his rage.

"i raised you better than this." his words are sharp.

your bottom lip quivers, but you don’t cry. not yet.

"we gave you everything. we built you a life. we kept you safe. from—from boys like that. and you repay us by... by walking out with a stranger like you were raised in a barn?"

you swallow hard.

"you don’t even know him like that.” your voice trembles, and your vision is blurring with tears.

"i don’t need to."

“we didn’t do anything.” your voice was just barely above a whisper.

your father sighed. “it’s not about what you did or didn’t do, it’s about the message it sends." he wiped his hand over his face.

you look to your mother. her eyes meet yours. they’re unreadable.

your father goes on. "you think I don’t see what’s happening? you hesitate. you’re silent during prayer. the way you look at the door like you’re waiting for something better to walk through."

you bite the inside of your lip. “i just wanna understand.” a single tear lips down your cheeks. you can’t face his eyes.

"what? what is it that you can’t understand?”

"everything. why we are the way we are. why church feels like punishment. why—why i can’t ever do anything right by you.” you cry.

he stares, then shakes his head. “you feel like that because you're believing lies to be truth. and do not blame me for your feelings.”

“how do you know anything is the truth? why can’t i dec—“

“you’re too young to decide that.” he slaps his hand to the counter.

“i’m twenty—“

“i don’t care if you’re four, twenty, i don’t care if you’re goddamn fifty. you live in my house, under my rules.” his voice loud.

a priest using the lord’s name in vein felt sinful.

you stand. “no, dad. i think i finally understand.” you raise your voice. it’s not strong, but it’s enough.

your mother shifts, but does nothing more.

"until you come to your senses, you’re grounded. no phone. no friends. no more distractions."

you feel the walls close in, and you shout. “i don’t have friends, i don’t have anyone in this town! i spend all my time at the fucking church wishing i felt what everybody else is feeling!”

"oh, don’t you raise your voice at me.” he straightens, side stepping around the counter. “that boy will never set foot near the church again."

you turn on your heels and walk back to your room before he can say anything else. you hear your mom approach him, mumbling.

you slam the door, letting the tears fall fast. your chest heaves and you can barely catch your breath. you slide down the door, fingers tangling rough in your hair.

─ ˙༺ ♱ ༻

that night, you lie awake for hours. your cheeks are tear stained and your eyes are bloodshot. the moonlight filters through your curtains and it illuminates the bible on your nightstand.

god might still be out there, but He sure as hell doesn’t live in this house.

with a sigh, you throw on a sweater. you stand still for a moment, listening for creaks in the hallway. once you were sure your parents went to bed, you opened the window.

you climb out like you used to do as a kid when you wanted to lie in the grass and watch the stars. the air is cool against your skin. the wind brushed softly though your hair.

you know where you’re going. past the fields and the silos. down the gravel road and toward the willow.

once you're there, you push through the leaves, and under the soft glow of the moonlight is sam.

─ ˙༺ ♱ ༻

he looks up when you approach. he wears tired eyes and an apologetic smile. he says nothing, just pats the grass beside him.

it’s cold and prickly on your legs. the twinkle of the moon and the occasional firefly are your only sources of light. yet the whites of his eyes still sparkle.

you find comfort in the silence. but you both have something to say.

he stares forward, arms resting on his knees. he doesn’t ask until he’s sure you’re ready. when your unwrap your arms from your body and bring them down to twist blades of grass between your fingers.

“how bad?”

“best case scenario.”

he looked at you, his head cocked to the side.

“wasn’t kicked out.” you shrugged. you’re coming off braver than you felt.

he nodded.

“what’d he say?”

you exhaled sharply, almost a laugh. “every word he could possibly use in place of calling his daughter a whore.” you felt an ache in your chest, and your eyes threatened to glass over.

his gaze is soft. he doesn’t try to offer his apologies. not yet anyway. instead, he lets you speak.

you lie back, looking through the leaves. it’s comforting—the grass framing your body. it cradles you. sam stays put.

“he thinks i’m turning away from god,” you start. crickets chirp among the tall grass. “but i’m not sure i ever believed he was really there.”

“no?” sam questioned, voice blending with the gentle hum of the trees. his eyes were still fixed on you. you felt them. not looking through you, but reading you. studying you. he wanted to understand you.

you shake your head, you shift your eyes to meet his above. they’re very pretty in the moonlight.

“sometimes, i thought i felt Him. but it never felt right. like i was always in trouble. like someone was watching my every move… like i’ll fuck up any second…become a sinner,”

“i prayed every night as a kid, that i’d be different in the morning. that i’d be good.”

sam let out a breath. he stayed quiet. his eyes never left your face. they traced every curve of your jaw and crease of your eyelid.

he lifted his hand, bringing it to your temple. he swept a strand of hair from your face, and his fingers brushed over your scalp. he continued. despite his stature, his touch was tender and bore no weight.

he hummed, an invitation to keep talking.

“i’d tell myself that i was good. but those eyes—“ you sniffled. “i’m starting think it was just…my dad. he’s so insistent in who i’m supposed to be. when i’m with him, i feel this guilt in my stomach. and—and since forever, i’ve attributed it to god’s distaste. but, i’m realizing that—“ you paused.

“it was just his. the parish's. maybe i never felt god at all. maybe he can’t save me.”

your voice tapered off, trembling. you lean into sam’s touch. “do you really believe?” you whisper, rolling your head to look at him.

you don’t wanna know the half of it, he wanted to say.

“i do.” you’re a bit shocked. “i’ve seen enough to know he’s there, just…not in the way most think. i don’t think he lives in churches, or people’s homes.” he knows what it's like to feel unclean.

you watch him curiously. he speaks with genuine belief. “where does he live?” you ask.

he shifts. he’s not going tell you that god is no better than a dead beat dad. “in people, i think.” he opts for, and he remains somewhat truthful. he believes that some people think of god as an almighty decision maker—someone who tells them the right way to live. and, he understands. he understands the need to have something greater to look to.

you soften. “i try to find meaning in everything. and if i write it down, or draw it, then maybe it'll tell me something.”

his hand pauses momentarily as he thinks. and he lowers it to run along the bottom of your jaw.

“maybe it already has.” he murmurs.

his eyes are darker tonight. they’re filled with intent and something else that you can’t quite describe. a cool breeze nips at your skin.

you're suddenly aware of the warmth that radiates from his fingers, and your heart flutters in your chest. it thumps against your rib cage.

“you’re different. a good different.” he added, “you’re hunting something. most settle for what they’re told."

your cheeks flush.

"you?”

sam doesn’t answer right away. he lays down on his side, one hand elevating his head, while the other stays cradles your head, thumb moving lightly over your skin. an unfamiliar warmth washes over you.

"i guess i stopped believing that there was anything good waiting for me. until now.”

your lips part, trying to form a sentence. the air between you is suddenly thick, and the breeze has halted.

"why me?” you dare to ask.

his voice is low, almost a whisper. "because we're not all that different.”

the moment lingers, and you turn on your side to face him. you’re so close, you can feel his warm breath hit the tip of your nose.

you take ahold of his wrist, but you don’t move it.

“if you touch me,” you begin, “my father will say it’s sin.”

“let him.”

your breath hitches and he intertwines his fingers with yours. his palm is warm and calloused. hardened presumably from years of honest work.

he guides you to your back, and raises your hand to the grass next your head. slowly, he moves himself to hover over you.

“for the record, i don’t think you need saving—“

he places one leg between yours. you’re cheeks are pink with anticipation now. and your heart thumps in your ears. your body feels fuzzy.

“—just someone who will see you for who you are.” he breathes.

he lowers his head towards yours. the tips of his hair curls at the ends and it covers his forehead. you wanted to reach out and touch it. so, you lift a hesitant hand to brush his hair back. he doesn’t resist, rather he dips his chin lower. your lips are almost brushing.

“will you let me?”

─ ˙༺ ♱ ༻

if you'd like to be added to my taglist let me know! don't be shy!

taglist: @ambiguous-avery . @iamaslytherin0 . @zenoxl

[sft-chrries]

where the river rests

pairing: g.tomioka x fem!reader

loud, frantic footsteps echoed through the hallways, alerting the serpent and love hashira. both of them stopped talking, exchanging a brief glance before rounding the corner, only to see the water hashira sprinting toward them.

without warning, giyuu reached out and grabbed mitsuri’s shoulder, panting heavily as though he had run across the entire estate. the sudden gesture made iguro twitch, an irk mark forming on his forehead because to him, tomioka was an arrogant man who always acted as if he were above the rest of them.

“are you oka-” mitsuri began, but was quickly cut off.

“my wife- she’s in labor,” giyuu said, voice tight and urgent. “have you seen kocho?”

the words alone made iguro choke on his own saliva, while mitsuri’s eyes widened in shock.

“wife?!” iguro echoed, nearly stumbling backward.

“labor?!” mitsuri squeaked, stunned.

for a split second, both hashira stood frozen, the weight of giyuu’s words hanging heavy in the air. they stared at him, waiting for him to laugh, to say he was joking but he didn’t. giyuu’s breath was still shaky, his face pale with panic, confirming what they had just heard.

“she’s early,” he added quietly. “and kocho- kocho’s nowhere to be found.”

the silence that followed lasted only a heartbeat. then everything erupted into motion. mitsuri quickly ordered obanai to look for shinobu as she helped giyuu’s wife through labor.

she knew about (name). she was the one giyuu had asked about love. and when she encouraged him, the raven-haired man confessed to (name). she also knew they had a small wedding with only (name)’s family present.

sprinting inside toward the threshold, they found (name) hunched over, panting heavily, tears welling in her eyes as she stared at the door with a pained look on her face. her knuckles were white from clutching the fabric beneath her, and her breathing came in sharp, uneven gasps.

“(name)!” mitsuri called out, rushing to her side along with giyuu.

the young woman looked up at them, sweat clinging to her forehead, and tried to offer a weak smile but faltered as another contraction rippled through her body. mitsuri ran towards her and knelt.

“you’re okay now, we’re here,” she said gently, brushing strands of hair from (name)’s face. “just hold on a little longer. iguro-san is still lookinf for shinobu”

mitsuri had five siblings of her own. she once watched a child come out of her mother when the midwife was late. she was the one comforting her mother while her father tried to deliver the baby.

(name) let out a sound of discomfort, squeezing her husband’s arm. giyuu was silent, unable to form a coherent sentence without panicking.

after what felt like hours, shinobu finally burst through the door with the midwife following close behind. the midwife quickly instructed the two women on what to do and ushered giyuu out, noticing how pale he looked, she didn’t want to end up taking care of both the mother and the father.

giyuu stepped out of the room and sat beside obanai. the two men remained silent. a scream then came from the room, causing giyuu to shoot up from his seat and rush toward the door. before he could get inside, obanai grabbed his arm, stopping him.

“you should let them handle it.”

weird. it was strange hearing those words from obanai, especially directed at the man who he loathe.

giyuu hesitated for a moment before sitting down again.

scream after scream filled the air—then finally, the sound they had been waiting for.

a baby’s cry.

it was soft at first, then louder. a sharp, trembling wail that cut through the tension like a blade. it was raw, fragile, yet full of life.

after three minutes, shinobu and mitsuri came out, signaling giyuu to come inside. once he entered, he saw the mother of his child—his daughter—lying there with the baby in her arms, gently lulling her to sleep. the midwife then began to speak.

“you told the other lady that she was early, right? well, it turns out she’s not. your wife just has a small stomach, which made it seem like she was seven months pregnant. but she’s actually nine months along and with a healthy baby, too.”

while the midwife spoke with the couple inside the room, the three hashira quietly stepped out, deciding to give them some privacy. as they walked down the same path they had run through earlier, obanai broke the silence.

“so you knew?” he asked, his tone low. the situation still hadn’t fully sunk in and felt almost unreal.

mitsuri nodded, her expression thoughtful as she recalled the conversation. “he told me to keep it a secret! but he never mentioned they were expecting! i could’ve given her sweets during her pregnancy.”

“well, she wasn’t really into sweets,” shinobu chimed in, a small smile on her face. “she craved sour food more than anything.”

obanai blinked and turned to her. “you knew too?”

“yes,” she replied with a nod. “though honestly, i thought he was joking at first. but then he brought his wife in person… and well, i couldn’t refuse. she’s a kind woman. sometimes, it makes me wonder what she even sees in tomioka-san.”

one week had passed since giyuu’s ball of sunshine was born. everything still felt surreal to him because he never imagined he’d have a family to come home to.

(name) stretched her limbs and went to her husband’s side, resting her head on his chest. she listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat before speaking.

“i’m glad she’s not much of a crier. she definitely took after you. i was a crybaby before,” she said, earning a small chuckle from him.

“but you know what’s funny? you looked so pale during the birth, as if you were the one giving birth, sweetheart.”

“you were in pain and i didn’t know what to do,” he replied quietly.

“you’re too sweet for me,” she murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheeks before slowly drifted to sleep.

bonus! its a long bonus…

after a month of being on leave, giyuu’s crow arrived with an announcement, their master would be holding the biannual hashira meeting. giyuu gently kissed his daughter’s forehead, then (name)’s, before stepping out of his home.

when the nine hashira gathered, a few of them were in casual conversation. mitsuri turned to giyuu with a bright smile and asked, “tomioka-san! how’s your daughter?”

silence.

everyone froze, turning their heads toward the two of them.

mitsuri’s eyes widened slightly as she realized her voice had carried too far.

“i’m so sorry,” she whispered, flustered. “i’d bury myself in a hole if i could.”

then chaos.

tengen immediately leaned in, loudly demanding, “wait, who was the mother? when did this happen? when did you even meet someone?”

kyojuro’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm, voice booming as he added, “tomioka! can we meet your child? i’d love to bring a gift!”

meanwhile, sanemi stood frozen, completely dumbfounded. out of all people, giyuu had a family before him? he blinked, processing the situation like it was unreal.

his eyes drifted toward obanai, who looked calm and unbothered.

“you knew?” sanemi asked, almost accusingly.

“yeah,” obanai replied bluntly, arms crossed. “i was there when she gave birth. outside the room with tomioka. he looked so pale, i thought he was going to pass out.”

gyomei, with his usual calm and warmth, turned toward giyuu and bowed slightly. “congratulations.”

before anyone else could speak, a soft call echoed through the room. the master’s children stepped forward, announcing the arrival of their master.

immediately, all nine hashira dropped to their knees in respect as they started their meeting.

giyuu usually walked home alone but not today. eight hashira followed him.

gyomei wanted to bless the child. tengen insisted on meeting the woman who married giyuu. sanemi was dragged by tengen. obanai got pulled in by mitsuri, who was bouncing with excitement. shinobu was due for (name)’s check-up anyway. muichiro? he just followed the crowd out of curiosity.

when they arrived, giyuu opened the gate with a sigh. inside, (name) greeted him, baby in arms and then froze at the crowd behind him.

“can we proceed with your monthly check-up, (name)? we can start with you first before gikae.” shinobu asked as (name) nodded, still overwhelmed by the sudden crowd in their home. she gently handed gikae to giyuu, whispering that they still have food and tea if they want before signaling shinobu to follow her to the other room for the check-up.

“can i come too, (name)-chan?” mitsuri asked softly, eyes sparkling with excitement.

(name) gave her a small nod, and mitsuri eagerly followed behind.

giyuu gestured for the remaining people to enter the dining area before sitting down. he looked at them and expected them to take their seats, but they didn’t as they were too busy staring at the one-month-old baby.

“so you two had sex, huh?”

🍒 reblogs and notes are appreciated !

🍒 sft-chrries 2025

[empty-dream]

This turns into a horror psychological thriller for a split second. What a marvelous direction.

[switchhalo98]

The excited "Ooo" before he fell completely silent! XD