#the ​storm clouds outside are pretty today

[rowanhoney]

I Love thunder storms and the reminder I am here alive in a crazy world where weather happens but also I am here. I am here right now. The storm is making sure I know it. Love that

[themotherofhorses]

Hiiii wanted to request Dark Aemond x Mermaid reader.

Reader is from house Manderly [ their flag had a merman in it ] and Aemond finds our her secret so he blackmails her father into marrying her.

Also some smut too maybe breeding kink of sorts.

even the whales fall prey to men.

pairing: dark!aemond targaryen x fem!mermaid!reader

warnings: very much nsfw. explicit language. blackmailing on aemond's part. forced marriage. dubcon. breeding kink. allusions to violence and death. mentions of pregnancy.

notes: dark & obsessive!aemond targaryen makes my head go brrr. also this smut will totally suck and i take full responsibility for it.

masterlist

The sea is much colder than usual, and across the winter sky hangs a thick blanket of clouds, dark as smoke.

It will snow soon, your mother had said at breakfast, bundled up in all her warm furs while you broke fast together. Today may be the last day we are able to swim for a while, so do make your peace and say all your goodbyes to your grandfather.

You sit on the jagged rocks that stand strong in the waters, watching as your mother and sisters finish with their own wreaths. Yours lays draped across your lap, weaved from rosemary and sea kale and the pretty blackthorn that bloomed on the nearby cliffs. The whales were making one final visit to White Harbor before leaving for warmer waters, and it was tradition to see them goodbye, and to flower them with the newly made wreathes and long garlands. It would not be until the early summer months that they would return.

“Little fish,” your mother calls out for you, already knee-high deep in the bitter sea waters. Your sisters did not wait for neither you nor her, deciding on a small race between each other. “Lost in thought, my little love?” Her face is soft and sweet, with two dimples on both cheeks, “Come or we’ll miss them!”

You were born a Manderly, under the cold moon, on the White Knife. On your first nameday, a great storm wailed outside the New Castle, crushing your lord father’s fleet to kindle and drowning the port city. Some said it was the Stranger waging war against the Father and the Warrior, high in the heavens, while others claimed the old sea god Caraxes was celebrating the birth of a new granddaughter.

Your father claimed direct descendance from the First Men, while your mother was of the true goldenblood of Old Valyria, a daughter of Caraxes himself. His mermaids, women with silver crowns and dark violet eyes and a fish’s tail for legs. The seamen swore you existed, but the rest of Westeros refused to believe.

Perhaps that was why you never strayed far from the White Knife, and from your mother’s side too.

Then again, your lady mother never faltered in warning you and your elder sisters of the myriad of dangers that came with your blood, and of people finding out the truth of such. She was a protective woman, prideful and beautiful, and a great warrior too. The magic she practiced since girlhood allowed for her to shift her appearances, and when you grew of age, she taught you the different spells and rituals, the small incantations to mumble under your breath, and the ways of honoring your grandfather.  

“Be smart about it,” she cautioned, though not sternly. With a gentle palm resting over your cheekbone, she kissed the tip of your nose, smiling down at you, “always be mindful of one’s eyes and ears, my little one. The whales know no true safety, not even in their own home.”

Oh, how you wish to go back and believe her words a little more

It came as a great surprise that, while you were gone, your lord father had welcomed in a guest.

You had not been made aware of such, and neither was your mother, who took it as quite the insult. She immediately sent you and your sisters to your personal chambers, to wash up from the heavy sea salt that clung to your skin and hair, and to dress nicely. “The blue velvet, please,” she said, with a smile that did not reach her purple eyes. “We must look our best.” You had not the slightest clue of who the guest might be, and you ask your eldest sister if she caught a whisper. But she just shrugs. “A Stark, maybe? Or perhaps a Baratheon.”

“But what would they want with us?”

“Maybe a marriage pact is finally being proposed between our houses,” she replies with a sigh, a stupid lovesick grin twisting on her pink lips. She is a maiden of twenty and two, tall and slender and beautiful like your mother, and beyond ready to become a lord’s wife. You make a face at that but say nothing more. Would your mother even allow for that to happen? Perhaps for your sisters, but not for you.

You were still too young, a pretty daylily not yet ready for plucking.

In the Merman’s Court, you find your mother pacing by the castle’s throne, biting at her nails. She looks nervous, with eyes darting between the doors and the households that stood around the hall, cloaked in wools of blue and green. When she finally takes notice of your presence, she drops her hand and draws you into a hug. “Little fish,” and she studies you over, at how you brushed out your silver hair till it shone, and wore your nicest silks. “Very pretty, my little one. Very pretty, indeed.”

You remain by her side, clutching tightly her hand as your sisters soon step inside the hall, all clad in their prettiest gowns, in bright colors of green and navy and white, and giggling amongst themselves. Then come the court ladies and lords, the few maesters that lived in the New Castle, and your father, the Lord Manderly, followed by-

“Prince Aemond of the House Targaryen, son of King Viserys II and the Queen Alicent.”

Your eyes grow wide at the sight of Aemond One Eye, and you subtly shift closer to your mother. He was terribly handsome, you think, shrouded in black riding leather and a long cape that pooled around his dark boots. At his waist hangs a sheathed long-sword. Both his hands are tucked behind his back, shoulders straight and proud, and he wears a smirk. And his hair, every bit the same silver as yours, long and straight and neatly combed.

“Ah, Prince Aemond,” your mother greets. She curtsies, low and graceful to her knees, and you do the same. “Your visit is quite the unexpected one, but we welcome you into our home. Is White Harbor to your liking, my prince?”

He hums. “There are many seamen that dock themselves at King’s Landing, and almost all of them have spoken of the White Harbor, and the beauty that it possesses, particularly during these winter months.” His voice is deep, almost a purr, with a crownlands accent. “Although, my lady, now I cannot help but wonder if your daughters are the reason for that.”

Your mother clicks her tongue, and ever so slightly her eyes narrow. “You honor me, my prince,” she said, “and my daughters.”

Prince Aemond grins at that.

It was your father who spoke next. “My love, the Prince Aemond has arrived with a most equitable offer from the King and Queen themselves.” He sounds quite proud, and incredibly happy at whatever that offer might be. “They are asking for an alliance to be made between our house and House Targaryen,” but he pauses, holding his gaze on your mother, “-through marriage. Prince Aemond is here to choose one of our daughters to wed.”

Your face snaps to your mother, who stood speechless.

“Our eldest is twenty and two, and a fine lady,” your father adds, nodding to your sisters that stood to your left, “and our second-born daughter just celebrated her twentieth nameday. She has no current betrothed, though she is not without suitors, of course.” Your mother holds her tongue, it seemed, choosing to keep you tucked by her side.

But Prince Aemond shakes his head. “Your two daughters are very beautiful, Lord Manderly, I speak nothing but the truth with that, but I have no interest in having their hands,” he says, before focusing his one eye on you. “It is your youngest I wish to have.”

Your mind goes blank.

“My youngest?” Your father sputters. “Forgive me for my words, my prince, but we have not planned to wed her off yet.”

Aemond shrugs. “I do not care about that; it is she who I desire the most.” He looks at your father, tilting his head, sounding curious, “Did you not promise to me any choice of your daughters, for an alliance with my family?” Lord Manderly appears nervous now, and embarrassed as well, with cheeks and a forehead flushing a bright pink. “Well…I suppose so…”

“Mama?” you whisper, tucking yourself behind her. Your fingers tremble greatly, and it soon feels too difficult to breathe. You could feel your sisters’ eyes on you, along with your father’s and the eyes of the many court lords and ladies, and the household guards too. They all feel too judgemental, pitiful and sympathetic. But your mother, she fought back. “No,” she says, loudly. “No, you shall not have her.”

“You deny your own prince?” Aemond asks, incredulous. “Such boldness, my Lady Manderly. But alas, I came to retrieve my bride, and I shall leave with her, make no mistake in believing that.”

“No,” your mother repeats, much louder than the first. Her voice, strong and willful, echoes across the Merman’s Court, sounding every much a crack of thunder, or perhaps even a roar of a she-dragon. “She is still too young, my prince, you must understand that. I will not be separated from my youngest, she is not ready to become a wife-”

“She has celebrated her eighteenth nameday, has she not?” Your mother stays silent, and Aemond grins. “She is well old enough to be my wife.”  

Your mother shakes her head. “Please, you can have my two other daughters, but not her. I refuse it! I refuse it!” She turns to your father, “My love, see with reason! She is not ready! The ocean still needs her, I still need her! Refuse it! I will not allow it! No, I will not-” But Prince Aemond cuts her off, “Refuse it?” He laughs, and you flinch at it.

“You have no power to do such a thing, least you wish to die of treason, a bloody traitor to your crown. To your King and Queen!”

He takes a step forwards, to you and your mother. “I know you, Lady Manderly,” he says, slowly, carefully, as if approaching a wild forest beast, “I know the sort of mother you are. It is very honorable, very admirable, and I thank you, from the bottom of my own heart, for raising my new bride well. But I also know you are very protective of them, and I understand.” Prince Aemond then leans his face close, until his lips linger over your mother’s ear, “-after all, dangers do tend to follow the daughters of Caraxes, do they not? And his granddaughters too. His pretty mermaids.”

He pulls back, a dark grin curling on his lips, his tone seeping in false concern. “What might happen if the world found out the truth of you? And your daughters? How you are not just liars, but neither full humans as well. The creatures the seamen lust after, alive and flourishing on the White Knife…”

Prince Aemond then peers at you from where you stood, his face softening. You timidly meet his eye. “Come, my lady, allow me a better look at you.” You swallow but do as he asked, moving to stand in front of him. “Look at you, a vision of pure beauty. You are so much lovelier than what I imagined when coming here,” and you could not figure out what hurts more: his grip on your upper arm, or the way your mother did nothing.

When you turn to glance back at your lady mother, she looks more a stranger than the woman you knew- weak and humiliated and defeated, almost in tears. It reminds you of something she told you, so many moons ago, back on the beachside. There was a dead whale carcass, fat and bloated, drifting back and forth in the harbor. In its side was buried a harpoon. Your mother shook her head at the sight.

“Even the whales fall prey to men.”

Five days later, Aemond One Eye claims you as his wife.

He allows the wedding to partake on the beach, alongside the ocean where you grew up and loved so dearly. Your mother had pleaded with him to agree on his part to wed you in the customs of Old Valyria, and he could not say no.

I, too, am of the blood of Old Valyria, he said, quite proudly. It will be an honor to both our ancestors, may they bear down on us as we continue our bloodline.

But afterward, he was quick to whisk you away to King’s Landing, to the Red Keep where he swore you rightfully belonged. You only caught a short glimpse of the Queen Alicent Hightower and her father, the Hand, before you were locked you in his royal chambers. And now, you lay across his bed, a flood of whimpers and moans spilling from your pink lips as he squashes his face only deeper between your thighs. “You have the sweetest cunt,” he groans, sucking on your clit as your head thrashes around, and your hips buck against his mouth.

“I knew I had to have you,” he says, while running his tongue along your wet folds. Your taste, it is like no other, and he swears himself a new and addicted man. He will spend the rest of his days worshipping you if the gods allow it. “The moment I saw you, you were mine. The gods could not even deny me of you. Your lips, my sweet girl, they looked so sweet, and I wondered if your cunt would be the same.”

Both your breasts sit in his hands, and he palms at them, sliding his face up to yours, peppering kiss after kiss across your hipbones and stomach. You are so beautiful, he thinks, while pressing his face against your belly. It should be a sin that you are not with child. “I cannot wait till our firstborn sleeps here,” he mumbles, kissing it, “I will make you the most beautiful mother known to the world, and men will envy me for the rest of their damned days.”

His words make you whimper, chewing on your bottom lip as his mouth soon hovers over yours. “Tell me you want my seed,” he demands in a whisper, gripping your chin between his fingers. “Tell me how bad you need it…and I promise you, my love, you will have it.”

“Please…”

His eyebrow raises, and he chuckles. “Please, what?”

He wishes for you to beg for him- for his seed and his love and soul, to plead with him for everything, to come undone and submit yourself- as his woman and wife and the mother of his children.

But you shy away, choosing to hide your face within the pillows, a bit too embarrassed to answer him properly. It is cute until Aemond grows too impatient. His craving for you spanned over too many moons, ever since he took first sight of you swimming in the waters of the White Knife. He toasts to both the Mother and the Maiden, perhaps even the Crone, that you never saw Vhagar flying in the sky above.

“It does not matter,” he says, kissing your forehead softly before moving to your lips. The kiss leaves you breathless, trembling and hungry for more. He flings your legs over his waist, pulling you down to where you lay completely underneath him, “I do not need your permission to seed my wife, and to make her a mother,” and against your lips, he mumbles, “you belong to me, do you understand? You are mine, from this day till the end.” And within a minute, his cock is stuffed deep inside you.

“It is too big…!” you cry, grasping onto his shoulders as he fucks you hard and deep, his thrusts seeming too unforgiving.

Perhaps he is punishing you, though you had not the smallest idea as to why.

“Please! Please, husband- please, slow down!” You bounce beneath him, fingers finding your own nipples as you twist and tweak them. It felt right in the moment, having remembered him doing it only several minutes ago.

“I do not give a shit,” he grunts, his hands resting on your hips, “you were fucking made for me. This body was made for my seed, for my children, now you will take it.” Sweat beads along his forehead as he moans and grunts some more and whines, feeling the way your cunt tightens around his cock. It is perfection, a feeling that was made just for him. “You have evaded my hands for too fucking long, now you suffer the consequences.”

You feel as if your eyes might roll to the back of your skull. Your pants are heavy and hot, and you cannot help the shriek when his fingers pinch your clit, before rubbing his thumb over it. He laughs, quickening his thrusts. “And to think, your mother would have kept this from me, kept you away from me. Ah, should I speak to you the truth, my love?” It is a cruel taunt, as you cannot answer, too overtaken by this pleasure. “I would have burned the White Harbor to the ground if I was denied you. Burned your entire fucking family to ashes if they dared keep you from me. House Strong has gone extinct because of me, maybe they will come up with a new nickname for that. Aemond Targaryen, kinslayer. Aemond Targaryen, house-destroyer.”

He shakes his head, snickering, “No, those are too silly, are they not, my love?”

Your face twists up, all in utter pleasure, and your body tightens too as you cream all over his cock. Soon after, he fills you with his cum, so much it trickles down from your cunt, staining the bedsheets along with your blood. But Aemond is quick to gather it with his fingertip, though, and shove it back in you. “Every bit of it matters, my lady, especially if we wish for you be with child by the next moon.” You try to smile, but you are so exhausted and ruined and all you yearn for is sleep.

“Did…did I do good?” you breathe.

Aemond smiles, and kisses your lips, soft and sweet and loving. He strokes your hair, twirling a silver strand around his finger. You are gorgeous, his beautiful wife, this sweet granddaughter of Caraxes. All his. You and the babe that you will carry soon.

“You did perfect, my little fish.”

[spiderfunkz]

✦ I HATE YOU, NOT.

summary : you hated peter, but you still wrote him an 'apology' letter anyway.

word count : 0,7k

warnings : fluff, angst ish, established relationship, an arguement, i think that's it tee hee.

a/n : inspired by the poem from '10 things i hate about you' !! my requests for peter are open so feel free to send in your thoughts 🙃

it was storming.

the pouring rain and the clouds of thunder outside your apartment matched the situation that was building inside.

you rarely argued with peter. and when you do, it was always as a joke, it was never serious, ever.

the last time you argued was over coffee. when peter wanted to buy you a drink before he got home from taking photos for 'the daily bugle'. a job you begged for peter to quit, knowing that there are other newspapers willing to pay him more.

that was another silly argument you had that just ended up with jameson's head printed near your bedroom window the next day by peter.

"no, bub. espresso is much better." peter stated. you remember you replied with a snarky comment, which made peter defend his statement even more.

"absolutely not. you're crazy."

"says the person who can't even drink espresso!" you heard peter's laugh from the other side of the phone. "i add milk! it's not that different!" you reply, "that's called a latte, sweetheart." peter says — you hung up immediately after.

but this time there was no joke to laugh about. no stupid topic to debate about, no unserious competitions. only frustration ran through your body.

"okay! fine then!" you snap.

peter was almost taken aback, you've been quiet the entire time. "get out of my apartment, parker."

peter froze, as if he just finally realized everything he has said to you over the past 25 minutes.

in your defense, it wasn't your fault. but it wasn't entirely peter's fault either. you were both in a bad mood, and one small remark turned into this. neither of you knew it was going to become a huge argument.

"get out. parker." you yelled, you didn't care it was raining outside. he'll figure it out.

you could see peter's face before he slammed the door shut. he seemed regretful, but it was too late anyways.

fuck. you need coffee, no milk.

a few hours went by, then one day, and then it turned into 5 days.

all you've seen in the past 5 days are empty cups of coffee, the laundry basket piling up, the non-stop rain, and those soggy flowers that keep appearing by the fire escape.

you knew it was from peter.

it was one of peter's ways of showing love to you. he did it loads of times before. on the mornings of your birthdays, some days of your anniversary, and just days where peter knows you're having a hard time.

and being spider-man has its perks, one of them being he can trash your fire escape whenever. with those flowers getting mushy from overwatering by the rain, and those crumpled up pieces of paper with ink smudging.

letters from peter.

you realized it was his handwriting pretty quickly, but you were petty. so you chose to ignore it for a while.

until today.

you couldn't stand being mad over your boyfriend for too long. especially with those flowers slowly piling up in your fire escape along with those letters. and your phone wallpaper being peter smiling so widely wasn't helping either.

you miss him.

and after looking at those letters from peter getting ruined by the rain on your fire escape. you decide to write him one.

a letter, one where you're sorry.

for peter,

i hate it when we fight, and the way you always apologize first.

i hate how much i miss you, and how i couldn't show it.

i hate how i miss your stupid hair, and your stupid smile. i hate how i miss your touch and how you make my heart run a mile.

i hate how i even miss the moments where you'd come into my apartment like a wounded puppy, i've always hated how you make me worry. and i hate how you never fail to make me smile even if you're all bloody.

i hate the way you caress my cheek and the way my face burns from your touch.

i hate how i can feel your eyes on me when i look away. and i hate how much i'm in love with you, and the way i miss your nerdy jokes.

i hate how much love you give me, so much it makes me sick.

i hate it when you're not around, especially because you didn't call.

but mostly i hate the way i don't hate you,

not even close,

not even a little bit,

not even at all.

p.s i kept the flowers, and the ruined letters. and call me. i miss your voice. 💋

[mykoreanlove]

Deceptive bonds

Changbin’s house parties were notorious for all kind of things: snoring coke on the bathroom tiles, messy sex in confined closets and serious philosophy discussions over the kitchen counter. You would never admit this to others but secretly you were proud to have participated in all those activities. Weren’t your college years made for that?

Today’s party provided you with a new experience though – a smooth and comfortable make out session with your boyfriend amidst dozens of eyes.

You were sitting on Felix’ lap giggling and kissing, touching him as much as you could. The two of you haven’t been dating for very long, hence you were all over each other without having a care in the world.

You admired everything about him: his blonde hair that fell into his chocolate brown eyes, the countless freckles on his cheeks or heart shaped lips that made your heart flutter everytime they landed on your skin. Felix’ grip on your hips tightened as he distracted your train of thought.

“What are you thinking about, love?”

Love.

He didn’t know you that long, but he already gave you the world’s most significant nickname. Warmth spread in your body, and you smiled comfortingly. “Just how much I like you.”

His lips turned up before they crashed on yours, eliciting a storm of butterflies within you.

Being with Felix was nice – it felt safe and comfortable.

Your mind started to wander as you noticed how different it felt from what you were used to with…

“Get up.”

His voice was deep and underscored with rage. Felix broke off the kiss and stared at his friend in bewilderment. It took you a second before you were able to make eye contact with him – he always had you enslaved with one of his glances.

Hyunjin didn’t even look at you, his eyes stared directly at Felix. “They are waiting for you. You signed up for beer pong, remember?”

Felix sighed in annoyance. “Oh shoot, shit.” He turned around and flashed you his brightest smile. “Y/N, will you be okay for a while? I have to go show them how it’s done, Aussie style!”

He was so excited, you could never say no.

“Go. Show them how it’s done, angel.”

Hyunjin flinched at your nickname for his best friend but luckily no one noticed. Felix kissed you quickly and made his way to the outside, ready to give it his all.

After he left, Hyunjin finally acknowledged you. He held out his hand to you, waiting for you to take it.

You stared at him in confusion. “What?”

“We need to talk. Now.”

The rage in his voice was nothing compared to the one in his eyes – they were darker than the night.

You got up and slapped his hand away. “We don’t have anything to talk about.”

As you made your way to the kitchen, you passed the closet in which you went down on your knees for him once. You came to a halt and watched the pantry as memories of that steamy night flooded your consciousness.

It didn’t take Hyunjin much time to come after you, so he yanked you into the closet with him.

“Are you out of your mind?”

The space was anything but narrow, not a single piece of paper would have fit between the two of you. His scent clouded your vision just as it did back then. Hyunjin was breathing heavily, his chest was heaving with a lot of emotions.

“Am I out of my mind? Are you? Y/N, are you for real?”

There was so much emotion in his voice, yet you had trouble identifying what it was. Even though the inside of the closet was barely lit, you were still able to see him clearly. His porcelain skin was framed by his dark clothes and red hair, his nostrils flaring, his jaw clenched. You pinched yourself and winced at the pain.

“See? That hurt. I am real, yes.”

He rolled his eyes at you in annoyance.

“I can’t believe you. You’re dating Felix?!”

You smirked. “Yeah, I am. Why do you care though?”

He was getting more agitated by the second.

“Why do -I- care? You’re dating my best friend when it should have been me!”

Now you were the one rolling your pretty eyes at him.

“Oh please. Spare me the bullshit, Hyunjin.”

He took a deep breath, trying his best to calm his nerves.

“Listen. I know what this looks like and I- “

“Oh, do you?”, you snapped at him angrily. You both glared at each other as if you were going to rip off each other’s heads.

Or pants.

“Don’t”, he gritted through his teeth.

You chuckled maniacally. “Don’t what? Tell you how much I like you? That I’m in love with you? That I want us to be more? Don’t worry, we already did that play.”

Memories of you begging him to choose you flooded your mind. Hyunjin and you were a thing for a couple of weeks – you considered those weeks to be the best ones of your life. Being with him felt exciting, thrilling, and unstable. He always kept you on edge, never letting you know what he was up to. That love you shared was obsessive, passionate, and mind-blowing, just like the orgasms he gave you. But that was all he had to offer as Hyunjin denied you more of him.

“Is that why you’re dating him now?” You could have sworn to detect vulnerability in his tone.

“Can you really blame me?” He didn’t say a word. You sighed heavily.

“Felix makes me happy. I feel safe with him, like I can rely on him. He’s a good guy and I think I deserve that.”

He furrowed his brows, thinking a thousand thoughts at the same time. Hyunjin didn’t find the right words to say, so he let his body speak for him. His slender fingers grabbed your wrists and traced patterns on the soft skin.

“Is that really what you want?”, his tone was soft, barely a whisper.

His touch alone was enough to make your mind go blank. You didn’t dare to look at his eyes in fear of what you could do.

“Y/N”, he whispered your name, “look at me. Please.”

You tilted your head and looked into his enticing eyes – the rage was gone and substituted with longing.

“I know what I said to you back then. And back then, I really meant it. But now…”

His hands trailed up your arms and laced behind your neck, pulling you close to him. “Now that I see you with him, I can’t help myself. I had no idea that I want you like that, y/n.”

Hyunjin tilted his head to the side, his eyes set on seducing you. “You should be sitting on my lap, baby. Just like you used to. Remember how you did that? Remember what we did in here?”

You felt like suffocating. He was taking your breath away.

“Stop”, you muttered.

He grinned innocently. “I won’t do anything, y/n. Felix is still my friend, after all.” You felt your shoulders relax, feeling like you escaped the danger.

For now.

“But- “, his lips traced your throat slightly, “I’ll be waiting, baby.”

You didn’t understand. “Waiting? For what?”

He was oozing arrogance, laughing against your skin.

“We both know how this is going to end. Number one – he is going to fuck this up. I know him, y/n. There is more to him than his angelic persona. Or number two- “.

He backed off a bit and placed his thumb on your lips, slightly applying pressure. “You’ll get bored very quickly. He is safety and I am danger and I know how much you crave that adrenaline that only I can give to you.”

You didn’t even realize you were sucking on his thumb, too engulfed by the words he said. You slapped his thumb away as soon as you realized, looking down feeling ashamed.

“That’s right, baby”, he chuckled mischievously before exiting the closet, “I know what you truly want. Don’t make me wait too long.”

[poetskings]

@jegulus-microfic | May 3: rush | 1.8k

James is in a rush to get to work, until he meets someone that makes London public transport less awful.

James is running late.

It had been a morning of little catastrophes; James slept through his alarm, his clothes were still damp from where he’d done laundry a little bit too late the day before, and Remus had drunk the last of the coffee so naturally James had to call in at the local coffee shop rather than getting it at home.

All of this to say he’s spectacularly late.

He’s got a meeting at eleven and unless some minor miracles occur and public transport actually functions for a change, he’s going to be fifteen minutes late.

He fires an email off to Lily all but begging her to cover until he gets there (she says yes, because she’s an actual literal angel and James would drop dead if he had to function a day without her) and power walks to Camden Town station, because even as late as he is, full on running is a bit too undignified.

The one small mercy of him running hideously late is that the tube station is pretty quiet – there’s only a handful of people waiting on the platform. James puts his headphones on and takes out his book, zoning out as he waits for the train to arrive.

It doesn’t take long; the Northern line is generally reliable outside of rush hour, so James finds his way into a carriage and sits down, preparing to read for the rest of his commute.

That is, until he glances around the carriage and his vision catches on the person sat opposite him.

He’s quite possibly the most attractive person James has ever laid eyes on; all dark hair and thunderstorm eyes and oh, his hands. They’re delicate and decorated in rings and gripping onto a pencil as he sketches.

James has always been a hopeless romantic; ask any one of his friends and they’ll tell you that he falls fast and hard. He’s attracted to shiny things; to pretty things, and this boy sat across from him is all of that and more.

It takes everything in him to not go and sit next to the stranger, but even he can acknowledge that it’d be a bit weird. So he completely forgets that he should be paying attention to his book and instead opts for glancing up at him every minute or so after making some vague and half-hearted attempt at reading his page for the fifth time in as many minutes.

And then James’ world shifts on its axis.

He glances at the pretty stranger to find him already looking. James offers a small smile, aborting an attempt at a wave when he’s already halfway through the motion.

The stranger laughs and it’s possibly the most gorgeous sound James has ever heard in his life. He wants to hear that sound forever. He watches as this divine creature raises his hand before mimicking his aborted move, and James is gone.

He wants to sit on this train forever and make eye contact with this angel who’s decided to grace the Northern line at eleven o’clock on a Tuesday.

The stranger breaks eye contact first, going back to whatever he’s sketching, and James wants to see those storm cloud eyes again but is equally enthralled by the graceful movements of his hand as it drags a pencil over paper.

James has always liked hands, sue him.

A few more minutes pass before James summons the courage to say something. He doesn’t know how much longer the stranger is going to be on the tube, and for all that today has been absolutely awful, he thinks, if he believed in a god, that he would believe that this was divine intervention.

He takes his headphones off, ready to give the stranger his full attention, only to realise that he’s humming under his breath. It’s liquor-smooth and James wants to drink it in forever. He doesn’t recognise the song but he doesn’t want it to end. It’s his new favourite song, he thinks.

He clears his throat and the stranger stops humming, blinking up at him. James offers a small grin again, walking over familiar ground with him. This is what strangers on the tube do; this is normal. Then he veers off course.

“What’re you humming?” he asks. The angel across the carriage raises an eyebrow, shutting his sketchbook before standing up. He steps closer, closer, and James thinks he’s stopped breathing.

He pointedly looks at James’ bag, which is on the seat next to him, and James is suddenly all limbs and no grace as he moves it as quickly as possible, drawing that laugh out once again. James wants to wake up to that sound; it’s a shot of espresso to his soul.

He offers James an earphone, and James is helpless. He takes it as the angel speaks to him for the first time.

“It’s Dreams by Hana Vu. She released an album today and I’ve fallen in love.” He tilts his head back as the song washes over him and James is only half listening, instead focused on the long line of his neck. James has fallen in love too, he thinks, but with a man, and not with a song.

James lets the song play as he continues to stare. It’s only when the stranger turns to look at him that he realises that the track has come to an end and he’s expected to say something.

“My name’s James,” he offers, and he’s sure it’s not what the stranger wanted, but it’s all he has. He is hollowed out of everything and anything that isn’t the man on the train with him.

The man raises an eyebrow but nonetheless offers his own in return. Regulus.

After that it’s like the floodgates open. This stranger has offered James his headphone and his name and James would be a fool to not make the most of this opportunity.

He’s only half paying attention to the stops as they fly past, the eleven o’clock meeting barely even registering as a thought. He hears the call for Tottenham Court Road but Regulus is talking about his course at UCL, about how he wants to be an artist but he’s promised his parents he’ll at least try to stick out the law degree before blowing his future chance at earning money to smithereens.

James quickly glances down, firing off another email to Lily and apologising profusely but something important has come up that he simply cannot miss.

He talks about how he never really knew what he wanted to do until Lily mentioned journalism. The two have set up a small independent media organisation that he loves and can’t wait to build up. Regulus looks genuinely interested, and James has waited for what feels like forever for someone to look at him like that.

James loves his friends, he does, but when he was younger he established himself as a class clown, and his wants very rarely get taken seriously. It’s nice to have someone take him seriously, to care about his hopes and dreams and to ask intelligent questions about his plans for Sectastra Media. He knows that Lily is the real brains of the business, but he’s not completely ignorant, and Regulus seems to get that.

Tottenham Court is a distant thought, and he knows it runs contradictory to the passion he’s had for it when talking to Regulus, but this man sat beside him is magical and James doesn’t want to miss this.

Their conversation winds through countless topics and James cannot remember the last time it felt this easy for him to exist in his own skin. It’s only when he starts to get a slew of messages that he realises that they’ve been on the tube for nearly forty minutes. He glances apologetically at Regulus and calls Lily back, fully prepared for a thorough bollocking, which even he can admit he deserves.

He glances at the boy next to him and prepares himself to admit that he should’ve gotten off the tube three stops ago when he sees Regulus frantically firing off a text about how he’s not going to make the contracts lecture and can someone please send him the notes.

James doesn’t even try to hide his smile as he nudges Regulus. “Running late too, huh?”

Regulus startles slightly, a rosy flush creeping up his neck, and it’s the most gorgeous thing James has ever seen.

“I was meant to get off at Warren Street.”

James stops breathing. He stops existing. His entire world has narrowed down to the contours of Regulus’ body.

Warren Street was two stops before Tottenham Court.

The words are out before James has fully processed them.

“Go on a date with me?”

Regulus looks startled, like he can’t quite believe this is real. Silence starts to stretch.

“I was meant to get off at Tottenham Court. Go on a date with me?”

Regulus starts breathing again and James’ world starts turning again.

“Alright,” he says, and it is soft and tentative and oh so fragile and James wants to frame this moment.

The pair get off the tube, waiting for a new train to take them in the opposite direction. Something has shifted between them, and James lets his fingers brush against the back of Regulus’ hand, feeling the cool bite of his rings.

Regulus doesn’t move away.

The second train comes and they don’t even consider sitting anywhere other than next to each other. James and Regulus has become JamesAndRegulus, and the conversation flows and something rare and precious has been created.

Tottenham Court approaches, and Regulus breaks conversation, turning so that James can no longer see his sketchbook as he writes frantically across the page.

He tears out the page, offering it to James. It’s a sketch of him; rough around the edges but James knows what it means. In the top right hand corner, a number is written in delicate cursive.

James looks away from the drawing, finding Regulus biting his lip, that beautiful rose blush drawn across his cheeks.

James is helpless; so far gone and without any desire to find his way back to the person he was before he stepped on the train this morning.

“Thank you,” he says, throwing his bag over his shoulder. He pulls his phone out, immediately plugging Regulus’ number in and sending a text to the angel on the tube.

Regulus nods and says, “you’re welcome.”

The tube doors open on Tottenham Court and James makes his way to his office, feeling lighter than he has in months.

Lily will rightfully be fuming, and James knows that it’s nearly midday, but he thinks that perhaps he wasn’t late after all.

He was right where he needed to be, right on time.

[laenordeservedbetter]

heyy so hear me out obsessed ghostface Sam...

But I Love You!

Words: 2.1k

Pairing: Ghostface!Samantha Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Sam would do everything in her power to make sure that you remain hers no matter who she has to stab in the way.

Warnings: (18+), killing, violence, manipulation, cussing, suggestive themes, unhinged Sam(?), confusing ending, not proofread (i had a long day and i'm tired). lmk if I missed any.

The italics in the first few scenes with reader & sam are Sam's inner dialogue/thoughts. This doesn't follow the scream timeline. Here, Sam never left Woodsboro, Tara's still in school, and Sam became Ghostface.

not my gif. || masterlist || previous work

—

It started with an attraction or in simpler terms, a crush - the foundation of all things relationship related.

You turned up to her workplace by chance, caught up in the middle of the storm. It was common sense to stop driving and find a secure place to stay for the meantime. The diner Sam worked at was the closest. That’s how you found yourself acting as the cloud that would pour water on a certain place. Your day had been terrible. You were late to work, customers were more irate today than the previous days, and you forgot to bring your umbrella before leaving. Clothes soaking wet and droplets of water pouring on the floor, Sam was bound to notice you.

At first, her blood boiled. After all, she’d have to be the one to clean up this mess. But when she took a glance at you, her heart skipped a beat. The makeup on your face was smudged, your hair a tangled mess, but damn, “You look beautiful.” Sam whispered.

Your head snapped up, noticing someone else’s presence in the room for the first time. “What?”

“I said, ‘how can I help you?’” Sam silently cursed herself for slipping up.

You don’t notice the lie. “I’m looking for a place to stay for an hour or so. Just until the rain calms down. And maybe food?” The woman has an unreadable expression on her face. “Don’t worry, I have money, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

The woman smiles kindly, “Oh, I wasn’t thinking that.”

“Oh? What were you thinking, then?”

“That you might need a change of clothes.” Sam gestures to your outfit.

“You’re probably right.” You say, “Sadly, I don’t have anything else to change into.”

Sam bites her lip, weighing out her options. “We have a spare uniform in the back.” She relents.

“That’s kind of you, but wouldn’t your boss be mad?”

Ugh. Roger.

“Don’t worry, I’ll deal with him. The only thing you should focus on right now is making sure you don’t get sick.” Sam walks to the room that says ‘staff only’ and comes back less than a minute later to hand you the clothes. “Here. You can change to the bathroom over there.” She points to the lavatory.

“Thank you so much. You’re an angel.” You say, taking your time to go to the bathroom to avoid slipping.

Once Sam hears the door close, she looks to your car parked outside. She can’t let you leave. Not yet.

She grabs her umbrella hidden under the counter and makes her way outside, making sure the bathroom door is still closed before popping the hood of the car open, removing the rotor piece. “Nice and easy.” Sam mumbles, pocketing the piece. She rushes back in the diner, hoping to be there before you can question her whereabouts.

You exit the lavatory wearing the uniform given to you by the kind stranger.

It fits her perfectly. “All good?” Sam asks, handing you a towel.

“Yes, yes. I can’t thank you enough. Not many people would go out of their way to help a stranger.” You shiver, putting the towel around you like a cloak.

“I’m just doing my job, ma’am.”

“Please. Call me Y/n.”

“You have a pretty name.” She says.

“Not as pretty as yours. . . Samantha.” You squint your eyes to read the name on the tag of her blouse.

Sam’s brows furrow, “How did you know my name?”

“It’s on your tag.” You point out.

Sam laughs, like, really laughs. The laugh-at-your-crush’s-jokes-even-if-you-don’t-find-it-funny kind of laugh. What is happening? “Fuck. Sorry. I’m not used to pretty girls complimenting me.”

“Somehow, I find that hard to believe.” You take a seat at one of the stools near the counter, smirking, “You must have dozens of women and/or men lining up at your door. With that face and kind heart, anyone could swoon.”

“Nope. Trust me. There’s no one.”

“More chances for me.” You do a fist bump in the air, not caring how stupid you looked. “Yes!”

You see Sam’s eyes widen as she tries to look away.

She’ll be the death of me.

-

As predicted, your car wouldn’t start. Sam gladly offered you a ride to your apartment, where she then asked for your number. You had no hesitation and gave it, thinking her intentions were pure. And they were.

Mostly.

-

That was eleven months ago.

You and Sam are together now and the crush bloomed into something more.

She was the perfect girlfriend. Good-hearted, gentle, caring. You thought you had hit the jackpot until the cracks in your relationship began to show themselves.

At first, it was the little things you noticed whenever you were together in public. Sam always had an arm around you. It didn’t matter if it was your waist or your shoulders or locking your arms together. She wanted to make sure the world knew that you were hers, which was fine. She wasn’t ashamed of you. Though, whenever someone looks at you too long or if they flirt with you despite Sam being there, her grip on your body tightens a little, but not too much to the point where it hurts.

The more time you spent with Sam, the more your friends started to get worried. It’s not healthy, they said. She’s keeping you from seeing us!, they argued. As soon as you shared their worries to Sam, she took effort in dispelling your doubts, telling you that your friends were envious of what you have and that it was normal to spend more time with your girlfriend than your friends, added by reassurance that there was nothing to worry about.

You chalked it off as Sam trying to look out for you.

After all, she is your girlfriend.

Then, there was that moment at a party.

It was a gathering for work. A room full of rich snobs and picture perfect careers. You couldn’t stand it, but your attendance was required. The only upside was that the company allowed you to bring a plus one. Naturally, you asked Sam and she said yes.

Even though you were elated that she agreed to go with you, you didn’t consider the possibility of not being able to talk to her much throughout the night because of strangers chatting you up. Some of them had the intention of asking you out. Though, upon seeing Sam’s deathly stare, they backed off. All but one.

The guy, Michael (tall, brunette, green eyes), would not stop leering at you with a mischievous grin. You felt sick to your stomach, uncomfortable by the way he looked at you, but not being able to do anything about it since he wasn’t actively trying to pursue you. Still, it disgusted you.

Sam’s hold on your waist remains, her jaw clenching, a clear sign that she was getting antsy. “Can we leave?”

You nod, “Yes. They’ve all seen me already, I think. We can finally go.” Despite the looks given to you by Michael, you tried your best to not let it dampen your mood, smiling at your girlfriend.

“Good. Come on.” Sam says, leading you to her car without so much as a smile.

“Hey, Sam, are you okay?” You make her look at you, holding her face in your hand.

Her gaze softens, “Yes, I am. Don’t worry about me. Are you okay?”

“Other than the way his eyes made me feel, I’m fine. I’ll probably forget about it when we watch a movie when we arrive back home.” You assure.

“Who says we’re watching a movie?” Sam’s lips quirk upwards, hands wrapping around your waist as she pulls you to her while your arms move to her shoulders.

“Well, what do you have in mind, Miss Carpenter?”

She gives you a peck on the lips. “It’s better if I show you.”

You ran inside the car in a hurry to get back to your apartment and let Sam do the things she wants to you, the awful looks by Michael replaced by the desire pooling in you when your lover teasingly runs a hand between your thighs.

Again, it was fine. Everything was as it should be. Perfect.

But what came after? Not so much.

-

After you fell asleep, Sam carefully shuffled out of bed. She grabbed her dark cloak and Ghostface mask from the closet, running her fingers over the outlines of the eyes, sighing in relief. It felt good to pick up the mask again. Lately, she hasn’t been going out in the streets as much, having you to thank for that. As luck would have it, you gave her a mission (although inadvertently) at the same time the urge to kill became intolerable.

The job was easily done. Sam found Michael still at the party, waiting for the right moment. Michael went out the house, going for the alley since the bathroom was occupied. That’s when Sam made her move. Michael did not fight back, the alcohol in his veins dampening his ability to form coherent thoughts (assuming that he is better sober than he is drunk). Behind her mask, Sam was bursting with glee. Oh, how she missed it. There was nothing to compare to the feeling of excitement as you witness someone bleed out before you and the satisfaction that comes with it -- well, maybe nothing except you, her girl.

Sam opens the door to her room, anticipating your body still on the bed, sound asleep, but to her shock, you’re situated on the couch, both eyes on the bloodied mask in her hands.

“Sam, why is there blood on that?” Deep down, you knew the answer. You want to hear the confirmation first before you do anything that could potentially put your life in danger.

“I-it’s paint, baby. Tara’s got an art project for school. I-”

“Don’t give me that bullshit. I’m not five. I know blood when I see it! That is blood!” You point out, frustrated. “And what kind of excuse is an art project?! My neighbor’s cat could make a better excuse.”

“Baby,” Sam’s tone is dangerously low as she stalks closer towards you. “I did it for for you -- for us. The way he was looking at you… I didn’t like it one bit, so I removed his eyes.”

You get up from your seat, going to the farthest corner in the room away from Sam. She does a gesture to signal that she’ll go towards you and you put a hand up in warning. “Stay the fuck away from me! You’re mad!”

“Oh, please. Don’t we all go a little mad sometimes?” She retorted, ignoring your protests.

You flinch from her touch when she touches the side of your face with crimson colored hands. “You’re sick, Sam. I’m calling the cops.”

“But I love you!” Sam yells, her voice breaking at the end. “Can’t you see? I did it for you.”

“You keep saying that, but do you really mean it? ‘Cause if you did this for me, you wouldn’t have done it in the first place.” You spat, punching her abdomen, followed by a kick to the stomach.

Sam doubles over, giving you an opportunity to run, to call the cops, to do something. “Honey, please. Let’s talk about this! I’m sorry, okay? You know how much I love you. Please stop this. You’re hurting me.”

“I am?” You question in dubiety. Sam is clutching her stomach, tears pouring like a water fountain. That’s the moment it hits you. “I am.” Letting your guard down, you run to Sam, clinging to her like a lifeline, your last chance. “Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

She shushes you, “Hey, it’s okay, I know.” You close your eyes shut as she presses a kiss to your temple. “I love you so much.”

You let her pull you in an embrace, holding your body tightly. How you love her so. You bury your face in the crook of her neck, saying those three words back. She did what was best for the both of you. Nothing can harm you ever again so long as you stay by her side.

“My perfect girl.” Sam whispers. “Do you trust me?”

There was no getting out of this. You’re in it for the long run now. “Trust is a tough thing to come by these days.” You sport a grin against her neck that vanishes quickly, for you don’t want Sam to recognize it. She thinks she has you wrapped around her finger, but she doesn’t know the truth of it. It may be like a game for her, but not for you.

It’s not game over.

Not yet.

[phantomlifes]

omg would you pretty please do cause for concern with steve harrington? <333

A/N: plssss tell me if you want a part 2 bc this was kinda rushed since i didnt post anything in a few days. id be super willing to write it!

you trudge through the growing coat of snow on the curb and clocked into your job with a sigh. of course robin called in sick today, your only saving grace against the thorn in your side with the thickest hair you’ve ever seen.

“afternoon, sunshine.” steve says flatly, not looking up from his stack of tapes to stock.

you grunt in response, in no mood to deal with his condescending tone today. he lets out a laugh, shaking his head. you turn to him. “what do you want?”

“pleasant conversation, i guess.” he said incredulously. a smirk was biting at his lips. “my bad, i forgot you were raised by wolves.”

you scoffed. “i wish i could forget how grating your voice sounds to me, but unfortunately, you can not go a second without babbling.” you retort in a flat tone, trying to distract yourself with busy work. that was a lie. if there was one thing that could ever make you fold for him, it was that stupid fucking voice. when he calls you sunshine, princess, sweetheart, albeit condescending- it makes you feel fucking crazy.

he simply shrugs, so airily, so nonchalant, as if nothing ever bothers him. “you can’t go a second without arguing with me, so you seem to like my babbling.”

you roll your eyes and turn to him, only to see the blinding fluorescent lights above you flickering. your eyes darted to the windows, the sky dimming completely with a blizzard falling beneath the dark clouds. steve goes to move his car, and he can’t even do that.

the door is frozen shut.

he laughed in disbelief, running his hand through his thick hair. “you’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”

“did you fucking jam the door?” you asked in frustration, not managing to catch everything that happened.

“no, i didn’t!” he pointed with his palm toward the storm outside. he walks closer to you. “why do you blame me for everything?”

“because you usually fuck up everything.” you answer easily, taking a step toward him.

“i fuck up everything, huh?” he raises his eyebrows and raises his chin with a laugh. he looks back down at you. “at least i don’t make everything worse than my goddamn attitude.”

“attitude?” you looked up at him. “you’re the one with the goddamn attitude.”

“am i?” he took a step closer. you can almost feel his breath on your cheeks. he lowers his voice to a whisper. “tell me, why are you so bothered by me?”

“do you ever shut the fuck up?” you growled in frustration, because fuck, he’s onto you.

he chuckled. “make me, sunshine.”

you grabbed the lapels of the stupid work vest you’re both forced to wear and pulled him down to your lips.

“knew you liked the sound of my voice.” he rasped between kisses, grabbing your hips and sitting you up on the counter. “it’s why you kept entertaining me.”

you pulls away, tugging at his hair a little. he makes a noise you can only describe as a whine, and you have to bite back a triumphant grin. “fuck you.” you breathe before going begrudgingly back under his spell.

he chuckles. “oh, are you begging for it?” he remains eye contact with you as he unbuttons your jeans, dipping his fingers into your underwear. you gasp at his cold fingers and arch your back into him. “i still hate you.” you breathe, desperately.

bullshit.

“oh, that’s too bad.” he scoffs a laugh and takes his fingers out, emphasizing how wet you are by spreading them apart, it dripping down his hand. he leans in, talking in that condescending tone he knows you like now. “your little pussy doesn’t seem to.”

[coneyislandbabey]

still raining, still dreaming. -> w.rojas

WARNINGS: canon typical profanities

SYNOPSIS: It's a rare day off, and you and Warren spend it being lazy together in bed. word count: 1,310

NOTES: this was written for this request! Hope y'all enjoy mwah

Waking up in Warren’s arms never got old. 

The two of you had been dating for a little over a year, and he had practically moved into your bedroom as soon as you agreed to be his girlfriend, but coming into consciousness with the comforting weight of his arm thrown over your waist, his curls tickling the soft skin of the side of your face still sent butterflies frenzying in your stomach. 

Your favorite mornings, though, were the rare kind when neither of you were expected to go anywhere or do anything the entire day. Mostly, you woke up to the shrieking of the alarm clock and then Warren’s reluctant groans at being awake, stumbling out of bed and into the shower so you could get to the studio on time. There wasn’t any of the usual rockstar bullshit with the band– everyone was on time for recording sessions or there was hell to pay. Well, everyone except Daisy, but she was still new to your work environment and, according to Billy, her tardiness was the least of her problems. 

Ever so rarely, there was not a recording session scheduled for the day, and all of you were left to your own devices. This was one of those rare mornings, when you woke to the breeze on your face and the gentle drumming of a rare southern California rainstorm outside of your window. You peered out into the storm clouds for a moment, allowing sleep to leave you by degrees. Warren’s arm was, as usual, snugly secured around your waist, his face buried in your shoulder. You shuffled, turning over in his arms to face him and he stirred slightly, burrowing his face into your chest with a contented sigh. 

“Good morning, loverboy,” you said, voice pitched low and still crackly with sleep. Warren shifted slightly, angling his face so that he could peer up at you with big, sleepy brown eyes. You couldn’t help the smile that bloomed on your face, bringing a hand up to lazily stroke the tawny skin along his cheekbone. His arm tightened around your waist, pulling you even closer to him, if possible. 

“Got you all to myself today, angel,” he said, grinning as he snuggled into you. Warren cuddled like he thought it was possible for him to burrow right under your skin and make a home there. It was one of your favorite things about him. 

“Mm, true,” you nodded, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “What are we doin’ today?” 

Warren glanced up at you with an unimpressed look on his face. “You already know what we’re doin’ today, baby, it’s what we always do on the good days.” 

“I was just checking!” you insisted, laughing. “Okay, well you’re in charge of getting the food. I’ll pick the record.”

“Sure, sure, you take the easy job,” he said, rolling his eyes teasingly, though there was a smile on his face and he was already untangling himself from you and pulling on a t-shirt. 

“Exactly, you get to do the heavy lifting,” you grinned, getting out of bed yourself to brush your teeth and select a record while Warren was gone. 

This little tradition of yours had started well before the two of you became a couple, back when you were still two clueless best friends who spent all of your time together without thinking twice about it. You loved going to the record store together, and between the two of you, you had a pretty fuckin’ impressive record collection. On your free days– which Warren had dubbed the good days– you each took turns picking a record to play, lounging around in bed and eating comfort food while you provided a running commentary on the album. Didn’t matter if it was one you had listened to together a hundred times already, you would both provide your opinions on every song as if they were new epiphanies. 

After brushing your teeth and putting on a fresh one of Warren’s t-shirts, you knelt beside the record crates and started flipping through. After a few minutes of contemplation, you selected Jimi Hendrix’s Electric Ladyland to listen to first, followed by Pink Floyd’s Obscured by Clouds. Gently, you placed Electric Ladyland down on the record player, ready to go for when Warren got back, and settled back in bed, picking up the paperback you were in the middle of reading off the side table to pass the time. 

A few minutes later, Warren returned, a huge cup of coffee in both hands, steam curling up through the lid, and a box of donuts balanced precariously on one arm. You reached up to take the box from him, placing it on the bed before happily accepting your coffee. He put his own down the table, shaking the raindrops out of his curly hair. 

“I had to run up here to avoid anybody else trying to steal our donuts,” Warren said seriously, sending you into a laughing fit. 

“Not in the sharing mood today?” you asked, still laughing. 

“No way, we’re not leaving this bedroom for the rest of the day, so that’s all the food we get,” he responded, pointing at the box. “Did you pick the records already?”

You nodded and he went over to the record player, lifting up Electric Ladyland’s sleeve and nodding approvingly, looking at your second choice with mild surprise. 

“Going for Floyd deep cuts today, huh?”

“Sometimes you’re just in the mood for Obscured by Clouds,” you shrugged, and Warren nodded sagely in agreement. He picked up the needle and dropped it onto the record, the first deep drum beats of … And the Gods Made Love filling the room. You opened your arms to Warren, beckoning for him to join you back on the bed, and he clumsily kicked off his shoes before diving onto the mattress. He settled into a position with his head laying on your lap, reaching over to open the box of donuts and offer one to you before taking one for himself. 

“Okay,” he said, after biting into it. “Favorite song off the record, go.” 

“Oh, that’s easy,” you said, absentmindedly stroking his hair. “It’s gotta be Have You Ever Been.” 

Warren sat up a little, looking at you incredulously. “Seriously? Why?”

“Yes! And I’ve said that a hundred times,” you defended, as he eased back into laying on you. “It’s so warm. The way he sings the beginning makes me really wanna go to Electric Ladyland! And the part in the middle, ‘while we fly over the love-filled sea’? I love that part, it’s like if a sunset was a song.” 

Warren laughed, his eyes softening with affection. 

“Sing more of it,” he urged. “I love to listen to you sing.” 

You rolled your eyes, ducking your face to hide the blush that had bloomed across your cheeks at the earnest, love filled tone of his voice. “This exercise is about listening and judging, not singing, Rojas.”

“Fine,” he relented. “You can sing it to me later.” 

“Your turn– what’s your favorite song on the record?”

“Maybe Rainy Day, Dream Away? Sick ass fuckin’ brass on that song,” he responded, after thinking for a moment. “ ‘Sides, it reminds me of the good days with you. Dreamin’ away the days with my woman: my favorite thing to do. Besides you, of course. ” 

You rolled your eyes, slapping his shoulder playfully. “You always sully the cute things you say by being an absolute cad.” 

“Maybe, but you love me,” Warren shrugged, grinning and unashamed. 

“Yes, I really, really do,” you conceded, leaning down to capture his lips in yours. He tasted like strong coffee and chocolate glaze, the warm solid weight of him on your body and the promise of a day lost in your own private haven the only things you would ever need. 

tag list: @xleiaorgana @neptunes-curse

[actual-changeling]

for Meg, cause you're having a hard week <33 @ellie-licious

now on ao3 here

-

"What the fuck is a snowman?"

Joel blinks, fingers still curled around the cup he just set down. It's early November and the universe has decided to fuck her over by sending Jackson one snow-heavy cloud after the other, topped off with an early overnight snow storm that left them with several inches of snow. The last few days have been rough for both of them, her nightmares crawling out from their hiding places like bloodhounds finding a promising trail, and Ellie has abandoned her bed for his with the first dusting of snow; her sheets are starting to collect dust.

She presses her hot cocoa closer to her chest to feel the warmth seep through her sweatshirt and the two layers of clothing beneath them, not that she needs them while inside, but it gives her a sense of protection, an armor to wear. Her plan for today is, well, was apparently, to curl up with Joel on the couch and either try to catch up on the sleep she is missing with the daylight ready to keep her vampiric memories away, or watch one movie after the other until she passes out from sheer exhaustion. Joel, however, is oddly motivated to get her distracted outside of the house rather than inside, and suggested making a snowman once the coffee machine stopped gurgling behind him on the counter.

"You have never built a snowman?"

"Joel, have you ever seen a FEDRA soldier that isn't allergic to everything remotely fun?"

He snorts, sipping his coffee with a smile tugging on his lips, and she tries to swallow enough of his happiness to replace hers, bits and pieces of it gradually disappearing into the cold.

"A snowman is pretty much what it says on the tin, you roll up a bunch of big snowballs, stack them on top of each other and give it a face."

Ellie tries to imagine it, blurry memories of her very first visit to Jackson scratching somewhere at the back of her mind, and while she can't come up with a satisfying enough picture, she's sure her creativity will make up for it. Then, the last part of Joel's sentence fully sinks in, and she surprises herself with the ball of excitement that makes her bounce, almost spilling her cocoa down the front of her shirt.

"A face, you say? Any face?"

Joel is very, very glad the mischievous glint in her eyes has found a different victim today.

The next five minutes are a messy rush as they wiggle themselves into their winter clothing and tie up their boots, almost tripping over each other more than once when Ellie is incapable of standing still, idea blooming in her head. Yesterday, the cold draft alone made her flinch, but when she rips open the door now, gloved up and with a beanie pulled deep into her face, the sting of snowflakes on her cheeks is powerless against her excitement.

Joel shows her how to form proper snowballs, not satisfied until he approves them as 'structurally sound', whatever the fuck that is supposed to mean, and once she gets the hang of it, her ambition rises to the sky. They spend over two hours rolling and pressing together an almost life-sized snow person, with Joel doing the heavy lifting and Ellie carving out more details and giving helpful instructions.

"To the left, no, my left Joel not yours. Lower, it's lopsided now, Joel I said left, are you deaf?"

He stops, snowball, well, snow boulder at this point, really, dangerously balanced against his hip.

"Right, yeah, you are. Still no excuse for sloppy work though," she continues, not the least bit apologetic, and her cheeks hurt with the smile frozen onto her face, Joel's eyes brimming with an adoration that makes her blush.

They are finally done around lunch time, only noticing they missed it when the first people start to trickle back to their houses, heads turning when they pass their front yard. The sky stayed a piercing blue all morning, not a single snowflake in sight anymore, and when she presses herself against Joel's side as tightly as she can with with half a person of fabric between them, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her in, she no longer needs his happiness to stay warm, brimming with her own. Joel nudges her hat to the side so he can press a kiss to their temple as they admire their piece of art.

The real fun happens a few seconds later, though, when familiar footsteps come up behind them.

"What- Joel what the fuck is that my jacket?"

The snowman is exactly as tall as Tommy, facial features intricately carved by Ellie, a threadbare black blanket imitating his hair, and, to top it all off, Ellie may or may not have stolen some of his brother's clothes to make it as true of an imitation of Tommy as a bunch of snow and stones can be. She turns around, still holding onto Joel, and the stunned look on Tommy's face melts away when he sees the smile on hers.

"He was cold, Tommy, and besides, it suits him way better than you."

Maybe winter isn't going to be so bad after all.

[b00kdiary]

Unexpected (Part II)

Aemond Targaryen X Betrothed Baratheon reader

Aemond Targaryen is sent to Storm's End to secure a marriage pact to gain the Baratheon's alliance in the war. And yet, when he discovers Y/N Baratheon, the black sheep of her family, hidden away at his arrival, he knows that fate has predestined their meeting. He has to have her.

Warning: long chapters, swearing, eventual mature content (18 +)

Masterlist (Aemond Targaryen)

Her bellowing laugh of joy and disbelief ran over me like a cool breeze, the bright smile across her a lovely face a beacon in the darkest of shadows. The wind blew the loose strands of her soft hair from her grinning expression, and I unconsciously inhaled as her addictive flowery scent brushed against me and invaded my senses.

Lady Y/N did not shriek or even close her eyes as Vhagar had shot like lightning into the darkening clouds above, instead, she marvelled at the feeling, her body shivering against mine as her wide eyes took in the spec that was now her familial home and then danced in wonder as the broad and never-ending landscapes passed by.

Her excitement, her appreciation for both Vhagar and flying had been a pleasant surprise, and despite not intending to bring back my bride with me today or anytime soon, I found a sense of unease in the idea of leaving her behind.

As if I would not be able to take her the next time I returned.

She glanced toward me when noticing my stare, her head ducking in embarrassment at being caught, but I merely smirked in response.

“Are you content, My Lady?” I asked after a few moments, Vhagar now riding a smooth and undisturbed path. She beamed, her head turning as she locked onto my face.

“Yes,” She breathed softly, her gaze turning to glance at the pillowy clouds and gradients of the sky. “It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before, My Prince. You’re truly lucky to have this.”

The words were earnest and my hands tightened unperceptively around the reigns, hugging against her body.

“Do not worry, this is the first of many rides Lady Y/N” I said definitely and tried not to feel too offended by the look of genuine disbelief she threw me. “You were expecting something else?” I muse and she quickly shakes her head.

“No, I just-“ She paused, biting her lip again and it takes more effort than I’d like to admit to not stare. She doesn’t continue, the words seeming to fall apart in her pretty mouth.

“You said that you enjoyed being outside yes?” I rasp rhetorically, my eye slanting forwards for a moment as I steer Vhagar to the left. “You have a notable knowledge of Dragons, or at least of my dragon, and you didn’t scream or cower as we took flight as most would do.”

I looked at her now, contemplating and she seemed to be breathing unsteadily at my regard.

“I don’t see why this would be your last flight, not when you’ve taken to it so naturally.” I shrug and she smiles shyly in response.

“And it’s not an issue for you? Riding with another?” She asks curiously, her head cocking, her eyes doe-like in obvious thoughtfulness.

I inhale sharply, my mind shifting into obscenity and filth at the stare of those big eyes and her lovely face and I have to shake my head to clear it.

“I do not mind, My Lady,” I say sincerely, a mischievous grin lighting my face as I press my body against hers, my lips coming to her ear. “I find I rather enjoy the warmth of a soft and lovely body pressed against mine, in fact.”

She visibly shudders at my hoarse words, her cheeks reddening with heat as she shoots her eyes to the sky, avoiding my stare and my chuckle of amusement.

It seems that perhaps marriage would not be the worst term to ensure allies.

***

I can’t stop smiling. I can’t stop staring.

We’d been flying for quite a few hours now and every second was an intoxicating, thrilling ride that had my blood thrumming. I watch the skies fade from the effervescence of a cerulean blue into the darkening shadow of Aegean blue as the day continues, the wind cools and ices over depending on the beast's altitude and every scent that brushed past were of nature and the wilderness of Westeros.

Prince Aemond and I had discussed a little on our journey, light topics such as growing up in Storm’s End, the reality of having four older sisters and then what my favourite weapons and fighting styles were.

Our conversation flowed easily, not awkward or uncomfortable and as he asked me more questions regarding myself and my life, I felt much calmer and at ease in his presence.

The wind had begun to ice over as the temperature dropped and despite the warmth of the male at my back, my body still shivered and my teeth chattered in response to the cold.

The Prince noticed this instantly, a warrior's eye that was honed to magnify even the smallest movement and detail.

“My Lady” He called, his brow furrowing slightly “If you are feeling cold, perhaps you would like to lean into me more for heat. Your body has been unnervingly stiff the entire journey.” The words aren’t harsh but they are firm, his eye watching me.

I tried to relax, several times in fact, but the laces of my dress kept my body tucked in so severely that in this bunched position, my body would begin to slowly asphyxiate from the pressure pushing against my stomach and ribs.

I blush, stuttering as I beheld his expecting gaze “My apologies My Prince, I meant no offence… I just didn’t want to seem improper-“

“Forget what is proper Lady Y/N” He interrupted with a slight sneer, his eye-rolling “You’re beginning to freeze, lean back against me.” The words were authoritative, dominant, and a command from a man used to getting what he wanted.

I bit my lip, too embarrassed to speak plainly and instead, gritting my teeth, I relaxed into the heat and welcome of his chest and arms. The warmth that enveloped me as his arms circled tighter around my waist felt amazing and I leaned my head against his shoulder to keep out of his sight.

He seemed content with my actions, not hesitating to draw me close, even as my breath began to shake out unsteadily. I ignored his unyielding stare, as he probably felt the rasps of slight pain that brushed past my lips with every inhale and exhale and how my back was still pin straight.

I’d endured this kind of pain before at important events, the familiar crushing ache of the corset against my ribs, the lacing digging into the flesh at my back and that relentless pressure that kept my back straight as an arrow, no matter how uncomfortable.

It was a slow torture but effective in ‘maintaining appearances’ as my mother liked to say.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, Lady Y/N or do I have to force it out of you?” The words were icy and cold, and as I glanced up at his face, his expression mirrored that stormy calm.

“I’m just cold-“ But I don’t even bother finishing the lie at the flash of warning that darkens his eye, or how his fingers seem to dig into my hips in a harsh, but not painful, warning.

“Do you find discomfort in being so close to me?” He asks sharply, and despite that formal mask, I can hear his aggravation, as if indeed the other shoe had dropped as he anticipated. “I could get your riding hood if you would prefer-“

“No” I sigh, shaking my head, wishing that my saddle would rip and I could just fall out and plummet to my demise.

How do you tell a man that your mother stuffed you into a gown too small to make your body look more pleasing to him?

“No,” I repeated again, lifting off his chest and looking at him with weary eyes. He looked back in bewilderment but remained silent.

“I can’t breathe properly while leaning back,” I said quietly.

I looked down with a heated neck and face, the stare of his consideration far too overwhelming as the silence dragged on. After a moment of reflection, his hands began to shift and as if remembering his confusion back at the hall, his hands gently grazed over the sides and stomach of my gown.

“Your dress is too tight” He strained, the rasp lower than usual.

I grimaced as my eyes lifted to his but faltered at the rage and irritation flaring there. Before I could speak, Prince Aemond was quick to unsheathe his dagger from his side belt and without even uttering a word, he began running his fingers down the seams of my back before he cut the knot tied at the bottom.

A protest rose in my throat at that vicious severing but as I felt my chest expand with air, relief filled me.

His eye looked at me when that small exhale left my lips and he was quick to begin pulling and loosening the laces all the way up the spine of my back with one hand, while the other remained to hold the reigns on Vhagar.

My body felt like it was on fire at the feeling of his touch that danced over me and brushed my bare skin, the nimble and swift fingers that moved with such precision and skill, and I had to bite back the ire that filled me, the gnawing irritation at how many other women he’d done this for before.

I pulled at the front of the gown, slackening it from my skin and exhaled in a steady and fluid breath that rushed much-needed oxygen back into my body. The Prince's hands snaked around my waist after tying a looser knot at my back and this time I did not hesitate to rest my body and melt against him.

A small groan of appreciation left my lips at the delicious heat that encompassed me.

“I’m honestly surprised you did not faint from the exertion of climbing Vhagar. It is a difficult task to do anyway, never mind with limited air supply and body movement.” The tone was chiding as if he was furious, outraged at the ridiculousness of such a thing.

When I don’t reply, his ringed hand grips my chin and turns my eyes to his, the lethal glare in them strong enough to keep me there. I scowl, my eyes narrowing in annoyance at his interrogation but he doesn’t relent.

He wasn’t wrong in the stupidity of the corset, but that didn’t mean he was going to chastise me like a child.

“As a man, My Prince, I do not expect you to understand the physical turmoil that women endure to appear attractive for some entitled Lord or Ser” I sneer, my glare unyielding as well.

He snorts, shaking his head with a stern frown “I saw you in nothing but a sheer and light nightgown in our first meeting today, and on spying the clothes scattered around your room it is obvious that gaudy gowns and pleasing figures are not something you care about.”

I blanche at his reminder of my inappropriate attire, even as I’m impressed by the level of observation and intel he gained while with me.

“I certainly could not care less about how small your waist appears or how proportionally pleasing some expect you to be, especially if ensuring it means overwhelming you with laboured breath and posture.” He wasn’t yelling, but that growl of frustration lacing every word made his displeasure quite obvious.

“Gods, do not be so overdramatic” I hissed, even as he blinked in surprise as I rolled my eyes. “My mother has had servants shoving me into these dresses since before my first bleed, and I suppose she wanted me to resemble a fine and pretty Lady when meeting the King and Queen mother in Kings Landing.”

“You look like your sisters” He grimaces, obvious distaste lighting his face at the thought and I choke on a shocked laugh at it. His face softens marginally at the light sound and he too thaws and chuckles quietly regarding it.

Our stares lock, unwavering as we scrutinise and consider, our stubbornness butting heads as neither of us speaks.

“I am going to ask you once My Lady and I wish for you to answer me honestly.” He says, returning back to that voice of authority, that title of Prince shining across the intensity in his eye.

I nod, sighing in acceptance.

“Do you enjoy, actually enjoy, wearing and the feeling of your dresses corseted and laced in so thoroughly?” His words came out much quieter, and he waited silently as if to give me time to think.

“No,” I said softly, shaking my head at that obvious and blinding truth. “No, I find it burdensome and painful.”

“Very well then.” He nodded resolutely “ Then you shall never wear it in such a manner again.”

I snapped my attention to his and frowned, “But with the wedding season, my mother-“

His eyes darkened and narrowed, and I felt my heart stutter as he inched his stern face closer to mine, so close I could feel the harshness of his breath against my lips.

“Tell your mother, and your servants that should I see you wearing a gown laced tight enough that your body is not as supple and soft as I know it to be, as I saw it to be today… then regardless of our surroundings, I will tear the fucking thing off of your body with my bare hands.”

I gasped at the obscenity, the growl of pure carnal and primitive savagery as held his dark gaze to my own. My body shivered at that promise, that unyielding, cruel promise of violence and fury but also his protection and desire for my body that laced within it.

“Is that clear?” He rasped, his eyes trailing dangerously across my face, over my eyes, my nose, my lips.

I resist the urge to gnaw on my lip out of habit and instead, raised my chin and nodded, “Yes, my Prince.”

He hums, that furious storm melting into a lax calm and as his gaze shifts back to the path ahead, I simply slant my body forward, glad for the ease and comfort that comes as I lean my back against his chest and rest my head on his shoulder.

He doesn’t hesitate to draw me into him, our bodies moulding into one.

***

The warmth and suppleness of her body melding against mine was a welcome pressure, both a defence against the cold of the skies but also a resolute comfort at having her within the protection of my arms.

Without that fucking dress half killing her.

It was hard to stamp out my fury at the knowledge that her mother, in her own self-serving selfishness and weakness, was willing to inflict suffering onto her own daughter merely to appease some standard of beauty.

I had seen Lady Y/Ns body, perhaps not in the most appropriate situation, but I was content with her beauty and found her and her body to be more than pleasing in every regard.

I would follow through with my oath should anyone deem to disfigure her again and not only will I tear the gown off her body but I will tear out the throat of whoever gave the command.

Her mother. Her father. The Gods themselves.

They would fucking pay for it.

I silenced the wrath in my veins as we neared closer to Kings Landing, the Red Keep at the centre of all the chaos. Y/N was sitting straighter now, her eyes firmly ahead and scrutinising every detail as we flew overhead.

“Nervous, Lady Y/N?”

She huffed lightly, her weary eyes shifting to mine “You’re family are not expecting me and yet here I am dropping from the sky, astride your dragon with you. It seems… improper.”

I scoff out a light laugh as that word falls from her lips again.

Improper.

“There is nothing improper in it. You are my betrothed and I have brought you with me to Kings landing to see and be accustomed to your new home. The wedding will occur swiftly, this just means I have saved you the effort of days of travelling.”

She nods absentmindedly and despite wanting to, I have little knowledge of what it means to comfort someone and instead, I take to distracting her.

“There” I point and she perks up, her sight following my regard “That is the harbour, we have all our trading routes through there and get our resources from all over the continent” She smiles as she takes in the clear and shimmering blue waves and the ships docked and bustling as they unload.

“And there” I point further down, “That is the Dragon Pit, where we house all the Targaryen dragons and their eggs.” She looks in awe at the large and looming building that sat atop the Hill, her eyes lighting in recognition.

“That is where Vhagar stays?” She asks, looking at me and I nod in confirmation.

“You’ll be accustomed to the place, it's where we will go to take Vhagar for rides and where we will return to have her fed, looked after and for her to rest.” Her face brightens at the word ‘we’ and I grip her waist tightly in response.

She continues to marvel, smiling and pointing and asking several questions as we near Dragon Pit. I imagine that had it been anyone else, I’d have grown agitated long ago, yet the more she asks and I answer, the bigger her smile and eyes seem to grow.

I was not accustomed to having something so pure look at me like that.

And I decided that I rather liked it.

***

I braced my hands onto the handles as we began to slow, Vhagar tunnelling down and sailing towards the grounds in front of the infamous Dragon pit.

It was all unbelievable, every single thing was incomparable to the drear of Storm’s End.

I huffed out a laugh as Vhagar slumped and tucked her legs under her body, her wings tucking in against her.

“Sȳrī gaomagon Vhagar,” Prince Aemond said loudly, his hand reaching forward to rub against Vhagar’s head in what appeared to be praise and I grinned as the beast purred back in satisfaction.

“Do you want to try?” He asked with a quirked brow and I timidly nodded with delight.

He smirked, his large and calloused hand clasping mine and placing it over the scales and ruggedness of her, his hand laying over mine. I blushed as I looked over my shoulder at him and he smiled at the vibrations that reverberated through our palms.

“Emā dohaertan nyke sȳrī Vhagar,” Prince Aemond said, and then repeated, syllable by syllable when I scrunched my brow in confusion.

I stuttered the first few times, but he was patient with me as I eventually managed to bellow out with a laugh “Emā dohaertan nyke sȳrī Vhagar” and nearly screamed with glee when the beast answered back with a low hum.

I laughed, looking at the Prince, his face a mirror expression of mine, contentment that I’d never seen before shining there.

“What does it mean?” I asked.

“You have served me well, Vhagar” He translated and I nodded with intrigue.

“Aemond!”

I started at the voice female voice that called from below and when I noticed the Prince's stern expression and stiff body, I turned to the left and peered down.

Where Alicent Hightower and King Aegon Targaryen stood waiting.

I shook lightly as Prince Aemond gently removed his hand from mine and I focused on honing my breathing, listing my favourite things about the new place as he unclipped the ropes strapped into place.

Pros.

The sea was so blue and clear. There were so many bustling people and markets. The Dragon Pit where I could come with Prince Aemond to ride Vhagar.

Prince Aemond.

I realised rather foolishly that Prince Aemond was a pro for being here.

“Ready, My Lady?” He asked quietly, his gaze unwavering as he watched my shaking exhale.

“Ready, my Prince.”

And we descended down into the real belly of the beast.

___________________________________

@ephemeralninon @sluttyaemond @dreamsxoxous @moonmaiden1996 @letmeloveyouuuu @yoshiplush @sonnensplitter

[quarantineddreamer]

Yours to Hold

For Fluffbruary Day 13 (Choice)

To be perfectly honest: my brain is still not quite with it these days. But, I'm holding out hope that the fog will clear at some point soon (plz) and in the meantime here's a little one-shot I managed! Hope it's enjoyable 💜 (Click above to read on AO3 or see below the cut)

It had been months since Scarif. Most of it he had spent recovering from his injuries. All of it, he had spent wondering why he could face death more easily than he could face life, face her and all she represented. Hope. Happiness. Home.   He had come outside to think, hoping the bracing cold might clear his head and deliver an answer. He knew how he felt about her, knew what he wanted. What he was searching for was the courage to try–to choose a future that extended beyond the next mission; something permanent and lasting and full of possibilities. Something not for the Rebellion, but for himself. Something to be shared…

Of all the planets Cassian had been sent to during his time with the Rebellion, Hoth was by far his least favorite.

Maybe it was because it was frigid as hell.

Or maybe it was because the loose snow sliding beneath his foot had a tendency to remind him of sand…

Or because sometimes, when a storm blew in, the horizon disappeared, a blinding white, returning him to the awful edge of oblivion; a planet devoured before his very eyes…

Already, dark clouds were beginning to encroach upon the brief glimpse of blue sky he had managed to snatch. By his estimate he had maybe fifteen minutes left in the fresh air before he would need to retreat back into the gloom of Echo Base. He dreaded the thought, his head aching in memory of the harsh halogen lighting, chest tightening as he pictured the maze of tight, winding tunnels leading to crowded and too-small ‘rooms’.

Sure, on Yavin 4 he had been forced to check his bed every night in case a poisonous Yavinian centipede had wandered in, but it had also offered places to turn to when he sought solitude–jungle trees that he could lean against instead of the frozen rock wall at his back now.

At best, Hoth could offer him a barely habitable tundra to wander onto that–conditions permitting–would host him for maybe thirty minutes before the threat of frostbite drove him back into the Rebellion’s cramped quarters. 

“Cassian?”

Even through the harsh whispers of the rising wind he recognized her voice–three, barely audible syllables and suddenly the icy air didn’t seem quite so cutting. 

Jyn marched towards him, head ducked low against the wind, arms crossed over her chest, hands clutching her elbows in a tight self-embrace. A gray hat covered her head and a scarf to match was wrapped around her neck, the end of it tucked into the parka she wore–standard-issue blue, and seemingly at least a size too large–the sleeves hanging well-past her hands. 

She stopped when she reached him and peered up at him, cheeks turned scarlet from the burning cold, loose strands of hair blowing across her face and over her brilliant green eyes. 

He’d come out here to be alone. To think. And yet, suddenly all the thoughts in his head seemed out of reach, as did any semblance of speech. 

“What are you doing out here?” she asked incredulously. 

Cassian cleared his throat and gestured upwards. “You just missed it.”

“Missed what? I didn’t know there were any new arrivals scheduled today…”

He shook his head. “No, not a ship. Sky.”

Jyn tilted her head back, eyeing the infinity above them skeptically. “Pretty sure it’s still there, Cass,” she commented. 

“Clear sky,” Cassian elaborated. “Blue sky. Remember that?”

“I’ve heard of it,” she laughed, and the sound was meant for his ears (as all sounds are), but somehow it wasn’t something he heard so much as felt–winding its way through him, leaving warmth and energy in its wake, before settling somewhere against his heart. 

“Cass? Hello?”

“Sorry.” Cassian blinked, snow from his eyelashes melting against his cheeks and blurring his vision. “What did you say?”

Jyn rolled her eyes. “I asked if it was worth it, but I think I have my answer. The cold’s clearly gone to your brain.” She turned her back to the wall and leaned against it beside him, looking at him expectantly. 

It wasn’t the cold making him so addle-minded, Cassian knew it wasn’t that. No, it was something far more daunting, far more potent, and definitely not as easily shaken.

Jyn looked away from him, out onto the increasingly hazy landscape. “Were you really just out here to look at the sky?” she asked quietly.

She knew the truth, or at least part of it. She always did. He didn’t know how, but she did, the same way he knew he didn’t have to answer her–that she didn’t expect him to. His silence would say enough.

“It’s suffocating in there,” she murmured. “Not enough light, not enough air.”

“Too many people,” he added quietly.

She nodded. “Too many,” she agreed. “But out here it’s…”

“Quiet. Gives you a chance to think.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Sometimes.”

She peered at him from beneath frost-covered lashes. Lips quirked in a pensive, knowing smile. “What about today?”

Today? Today his eyes had been drawn to Jyn the moment she entered the mess hall; had followed her every step with a sort of dizzying wonder that was at once exhilarating and terrifying. Today Chirrut, sitting beside him, had nudged him pointedly and asked, ‘What are you waiting for, Captain?’

But there wasn’t a single answer, there was an entire swarm of doubts that continued to plague him. 

It had been months since Scarif. Most of it he had spent recovering from his injuries. All of it, he had spent wondering why he could face death more easily than he could face life, face her and all she represented. Hope. Happiness. Home.  

He had come outside to think, hoping the bracing cold might clear his head and deliver an answer. He knew how he felt about her, knew what he wanted. What he was searching for was the courage to try–to choose a future that extended beyond the next mission; something permanent and lasting and full of possibilities. Something not for the Rebellion, but for himself. Something to be shared…

“Today, it was a good thing,” he said at last. It was a good thing because having Jyn in his thoughts, even if they were anxious ones, was still having Jyn there, with him–a sudden, strange, and unexpected source of strength and light. 

She pushed herself off the rock wall and stepped in front of him, so close he could see the individual hairs that were caught up in her eyelashes, fixed in place by her hat and the wind. “Tell me about them,” she said. “The good thoughts.”

Waking up in the infirmary to find her there, resting at his bedside, arms folded beneath her head… 

Hearing her laugh for the first time, a proper laugh as he and K2 bickered over something inane; he’d forgotten the fight the moment he heard the sound, caught himself automatically smiling in response… 

Her surprising patience during his recovery, tempering his own frustrations; the way she’d always been there to sit with him in silence after a particularly trying day… 

A quiet corner of the galaxy, somewhere verdant and warm and free of war; Jyn standing beside him,  always beside him…

Instead of answering, he found himself pinning the fingertips of one of his gloves between his back and the rock and tugging his hand free. His breath caught in his chest as he slowly reached towards her face, gently sweeping a finger over the surface of her forehead, sliding the hair away from her eyes. 

He should have dropped his hand after that, should have pulled away, but instead, his palm moved instinctively to cup her cheek, the softness of her skin serving in stark contrast to the bite of the air around it. 

Jyn stared at him, something unreadable in her eyes as she searched his face. “Your fingers are cold,” she said softly, even as she slowly removed her own gloves and reached for his hands, tugged his remaining glove away. “Let me warm them up…”

Time seemed to slow down as she folded her hands over his own, squeezing lightly, before bringing his fingers to her open mouth and breathing onto them, the warmth of her seeping into the chilled surface of his skin, setting fire to his stuttering heart. 

“Jyn…” he murmured, but anything he might have thought to say to her stuck in his throat, forgotten and useless. 

He leaned closer, till the breath that had been warming his hands was ghosting across his lips instead. And for a moment, that was all there was, just the sound and feel of their breathing: a whispered question so powerful, it blocked even the howl and bite of the rising storm. 

Their eyes locked and held, the beginning notes of a song hanging in the air between them…

Cassian answered the call, tilting forward to press an eager kiss to Jyn’s lips. 

A pleased hum buzzed against his mouth, matching the pull of her forming smile. She released his hands and leaned her weight against him as she rose to her toes, reaching to wind her fingers around his neck and into his hair.

He wrapped his arms around her, tightened the embrace, a wild melody tearing through him like thunder through spring air, full of promise. 

When they parted, they did so slowly, scattering short kisses across cheeks and noses, and unable to resist one last deep, lingering kiss, before finally leaning away, just enough to clearly see each other’s faces. 

The smug grin Jyn was giving him forced a soft laugh from Cassian. “What’s this look about?” he asked. 

“Took you long enough,” she said softly as she stepped backwards, dragging the start of a trail in the deepening snow. “Now come on, you’ve been out here long enough–and I’ve got some ideas on how we can get warm.”

The plummeting temperatures didn’t seem capable of reaching him–not with the shadow of their kiss persisting on his lips–but Cassian didn’t bother to resist. 

Jyn tugged gently on his arm, and he gladly followed

[berrys-hide-out]

Through thunderstorms and arguments- Call for help!

Summary; Peter finds Thor and Loki training and ends up wanting to see the cool move! Too bad the god of thunder has been hanging out too much with his mischievous little brother and things take a hysterical turn.

A/N; I changed a few things from the original ask which was sent by @inneedofsupervision but I desperately hope it turned out to your liking! (Apologies again for the wait! Still recovering 🩷🫂) ENJOY!!! ✨

Warnings; tickles and a lil fancy swearing form Loki!

———————-

It was storming outside, hail clattered against the windows of cars and houses, raindrops fell like someone was dumping buckets of water onto earth and the wind changed the direction of it all every few minutes.

Peter watched in silence as the white pieces fell past the huge windows of the 100th floor of SI. He watched the clouds that sometimes lit up which was followed by crackling thunder.

It was loud, sure. Being so close to the clouds and roof; things always sounded a little louder but the soundproofed walls gave a bit of relief to it all.

The thunder could be unsettling after awhile.. you’d think he’d have gotten used to his sensibilities by now but in truth it wasn’t something that he could just ignore.

His mind wandered as he watched the spectacle, Thor and Loki were currently in the tower..

Thinking of Thor and Loki, where were they anyways? His eyes lifted and flew over the rather quiet common room.

Steve and Bucky were watching TV on the couch, Natasha and Tony sat by the table, the billionaire busy with something on his hologram while the super spy was halfheartedly watching the Tv.

“Where are Loki and Thor?” He asked as his feet took him towards the table. His voice seemed weirdly loud.. It felt almost criminal to disturb the silence.

Natasha looked at him „Probably training while the training room isn’t occupied“ Tony looked up as well „Yeah, pretty sure point break and reindeer games are trying to get along a little better.“ he stated in a bored tone, probably having heard the two gods bickering earlier today.

If Tony didn’t hear them Peter was positive Friday warned him about it.

„Alright I’ll go have a look then.“ „yep, don’t get between them Pete!“ Steve called after him wich earned him a chuckle and a two finger salute „Sure thing captn‘!“ he called before turning around, putting his hands into his pockets and heading off towards the training room.

He was two corners away from his destination when he already heard bickering. Peter chuckled, how can two gods bicker so much? They’ve been at it for hours!

„THOR! Let me down this instant!“ „Brother, stop struggling already or we won’t be able to do get help!“

Peter’s curiosity instantly spiked and he jogged the last steps, head poking into the room.

Sure enough he saw Thor holding Loki up, ready to throw while the younger squirmed uselessly.

„You will not throw me you insolent oaf!“ Loki yelled before getting tossed onto the mats, taking out the smaller ones that were standing up mere seconds before.

„I still hate it.“ Loki grumbled as he sat up. „I find it rather amusing.“ Thor grinned at his brother who sent him a dirty look „no it is not. It’s humiliating.“

Peter sniggered, earning their immediate attention. „Little spider!“ Thor grinned happily „hey kid.“

„heya! That was an awesome move!“ he grinned as he walked in, his grin widened when he saw Loki roll his eyes.

„Indeed! I am glad you’ve decided to join us on the matter! Loki doesn’t seem to be on the same page as us..“ Thor grinned and eyed Loki shortly. Peter nodded animatedly „can you show me? The whole move I mean?“

„I am not doing that again.“ Loki growled at his brother who was already looking at him with expectancy and a playful grin. The boy huffed „aw, why not? It’s such an awesome move!“ he gushed.

Loki squinted at him, seemingly trying to figure out if he was joking or not. Then his eyes caught Thors and he saw his own mischief twinkle right back at him.

Peter was about to ask something else only to gasp when Thor picked him up by sneaking under his arm „Let’s reenact the move together then litte spider!” He grinned.

The boy however could only huff. His feet were slightly off the ground and no matter how far he tried to bend his feet for his toes to reach the ground it just wasn’t enough.

With slight shock and bit of embarrassment he came to realise that was hanging there like a slack sack of potatoes.

An awkward slack sack of potatoes.

He was halfheartedly hanging over Thors neck and slightly his shoulder. The gods hand supported him by the ribs and the other held the arm that was draped over him.

Peter huffed at his predicament “can you lower me slightly? Please?” Loki sniggered at his question and shook his head as he stood up “Don’t worry Peter, it’ll get better” he reassured.

Peter did not feel reassured. The playful gleam in the tricksters eyes and the sly grin did nothing to reassure him- in fact his nerves lit up instantly and he shook his head. “No I’m su-HURE!”

The boy was interrupted by his own squeak and jump when the strong hand squeezed the spot by his ribs and he snapped to look at Thor with wide eyes and a betrayed glare. The god however just grinned down at him and winked.

Peter blushed- they were not actually about to team up on him after bickering the whole day through! Right!?

Peter heard the tricksters dark laugh rumble through his chest- if he wouldn’t have super hearing he’d only see him holding back his amusement.

“You have to stay committed little spider!” Thor announced happily as he nudged Peter’s ribs again, this time with a lot more intent as his knuckles rushed past his ribs.

Peter sputtered a laugh and he forced his legs up quickly to try and curl up. Loki grinned and shared an amused glance with Thor. “ahAhaha! nOhO! ThoHOhor!” The kid squeaked out between laughs.

Thor laughed with him and let up on the tickling. Peter’s legs lowered but before he could shoot Thor a dirty glare Loki walked closer to them “honestly Thor, don’t torture Starks kid” he mused and then squeezed Peter’s shoulder. “You need to call out for help to make it seem authentic”

Peter squinted at Loki “shouldn’t Thor be calling for help? I’m supposed to play the victim!” He argued. He was not about to call for help! Plus! He told Captain Rogers he wouldn’t get between them which basically translates do not get into trouble with them!

Loki clicked his tongue. “Details, details” he waved Peter off and went behind them.

The boy tried craning his neck as much as he could in his position but Loki positively vanished behind them.

“Y-You know what?” Peter blabbed nervously with a small grin “mihister stark said youhu were aharguing today morning-NA-HO!” He squeaked and batted at Lokis hands that were now right by his sides “come on guys I’m nohot calling for help!”

Thor hummed “Let’s help him out then why won’t we Loki?” The god in question sniggered darkly “Oh we definitely should brother”

Peter shook his head but the silly grin on his face only encouraged Thor with his and his brothers shenanigans.

“Nohoooo, come oh-HON! NoHOho!” The boy tensed and pulled his legs up again the second Lokis nimble fingers sprung into action, skittering over his sides over the thin shirt that Pete was now dearly regretting to have worn today.

“Come on Peter, just call for help and we can continue with the move” Thor tried to encourage, Peter cursed internally at the amusement in the gods voice. How dare he!

“Mmhm-noHOho!” He giggled, trying to at least make this hard for the gods by trying to hold his giggles, but alas it was all in vain as Lokis fingers sought out the spot that made him react most.

Peter shook his head and squealed when the trickster dug into his highest rib. “LOHOKIEHEE!” “My, my, seems I’ve found a sweet spot.” The god chuckled into his ear. “EHEhEYEE! nOHOh YOuhUHu HaHAveHEhen’t!” “Hmno? You’re saying there’s a spot worse than… this?” Peter bucked again when the god dug in with a lot more precision then before “NOAHA! IHI DiHIhidn’T SAHAhay ThAHAHat!”

“I don’t know young spiderling! Sure sounded like it!” Thor chuckled as he kept the boy off the ground. It was quite a task with all his squirming. Peter shook his head through bursts of laughter. Loki sniggered and let one of his hand slip to Peter’s hip.

The boy kicked out harshly and hit the poor god of thunder’s shin. The god grunted and hissed, kneeling down slightly. Loki halted before falling into mused chuckling.

“ohoho god IHi’m sohoho sohohorry!” Peter giggled as the god made his theatrics about his shin and let the kid go. Thor rubbed his shin with a soft groan “you have quite the kick little spider!” He goaded.

Peter gave a giddy smile and opened his mouth to say something before the god smirked “but not quite to take down a god yet!” He boasted and jumped the kid.

Peter screeched and grappled with Thor over the mats.

Loki shook his head at their antics. “Really brother? We had him perfectly trapped and great for the move!” He reminded and walked along the mats, watching as Thor gave the giggly kid little chance of winning.

“We still have to encourage the little spider brother! I’m sure this will be beneficial!” The god boasted.

Peter giggled wildly and fended off the gods hands as best he could “NOho! iHIhi’m not cAHalling for help!” Thor sniggered with him, the kid had a soft blush on his cheeks and playfulness was written all over his face. “But you have to! The move won’t be complete otherwise young Stark!”

Peter kicked out when Thor almost managed to pinch his ribs “THoHO-AAH!” He yelled in surprise when his leg was pulled and his knee was squeezed “LOhOKI!” He scolded playfully, sending the god a glare- but the god simply sent him a sly grin- damn his own traitorous smile!

With the short distraction Thor squeezed his ribs. “NAHAO! ThIHIHis IHIs UnfAHAhair! aHAAhAhahA!” Loki chuckled as he traced the boys knee, sending ticklish shocks through his whole system while Thor was on a journey down to his sides. “How do you mortals say, Pete? All is fair in love and war?” The trickster mused and swiped a finger up Peter’s sole at which the boy tugged at his leg harshly.

“nAA-HA! LOhOHOki!- ThOHoHOr! THIHiHIs IhIsnt fAhaHair!” Peter exclaimed again, his hands latching onto Thors wrists- yet he barely pulled at them.

“Cohome on Young spiderling! You just have to call out for help and that’s it” his amusement of the situation grew when Peter shook his head- what a stubborn little mortal..

“Alright.. well then..”

“NAHA! THOHOAHAR! CHEHEAHATEHEHER!” Peter threw his head back, fighting with his instincts to squeeze the god’s hands there which only seemed to make it worse- or try to grapple at them- which resulted in hilarious flailing.

Loki sniggered, but he couldn’t let his brother win this, mischief was his thing after all.

His slender fingers wrapped around Peter’s knee and his fingers scribbled along the backs of them.

The reaction was immediate, Peter’s leg slammed down on the mat only to jump back up with a high pitched yelp. “Oh? Are you hiding something Peter?” Loki mused and Thor let up on his tickles “what have you found brother?” “He- hehe found nohothing!” Peter protested but the two gods ignored him “See here..” Loki said which followed by his fingers squeezing and slightly wiggling into the spot. “NAHAO! LOHOKI! WehEHe can TAHAhalk Ahabout thIHIHIhis!”

The gods sniggered at the volume change each time Loki decided to continue his little game. “Aw, but we did talk Peter. You call for help and this aaaaall stops.” To let the kid talk he let up slightly The boy pouted at the god, his brown locks more disheveled then he’s ever seen them and slightly red cheeks. Loki sighed “I believe, brother, I should teach you a few things on tickling.” He stated, a sly smirk threatening to pull on his face when Peter’s cheeks flushed a tone deeper.

Thor chuckled “alright, have it your way.”

Peter gaped at him. NO WAY were they just AGREEING!

“W-Wait- Lohoki, come ohon we can fihigure this out- look youhu’re gettihing ahalong too! Mahaybe you can make uhup now??” peter blabbed as Loki moved closer and Thor away.

Loki chuckled darkly “your futile attempts of distractions are not working” peter couldn’t help the high pitched anticipatory giggle that slipped him as the god hovered over him.

“Ehe- you know- I-HAY!” Peter almost jumped out of his skin as Lokis hand rushed towards him.

“What happened Pete?” The boys eyes grew wide- oh. Oh.

He huffed and stared challengingly at the god. He’s heard of the wrath of the god of mischief. But.. he could handle it, he’s won Mister Stark’s attacks!

His challenging glare didn’t last long as the mischief practically dripped from the god. “What are you afraid of the tickles?” Loki asked as if it were like any other conversation.

Peter shook his head with a high pitched giggle. “N-no!” “No? So you shouldn’t mind..” Loki stopped above Peter’s stomach- surprised that the boy already flinched away.

Despite himself he moved his hand towards his side and flexed it- Peter, to his delight jumped again and moved closer to the god and away from the hand.

“Peter.” Loki stated and gained the boys attention.

“Whahat?”

“Are you by chance…. Air ticklish?”

.

.

.

“uh oh” muttered Peter in utter disbelief before a steady stream of giggles escaped him. Loki’s collected expression turned to one of pure delight and mischief “oh boy.. this just got a lot more entertaining.”

Peter squeaked when the younger god made claws. “NOhOho!” The boy whined through his flustered and giggly predicament.

Thor suddenly jumped from next to Loki.

“EHEEE!”

The squeal echoed through the training room much to the gods amused and adoration at the boy- the boy himself- as if finally remembering he was free, turned around and tried crawling away.

He squeaked when a strong hand wrapped around his ankle “now hold on little spiderling!” Thor chuckled. Peter laughed at the silliness- before he could however think of how to make this harder for the gods, arms wrapped around his torso “Now I gotcha!” Loki growled and flung the boy back as if he weighted nothing.

Peter laughed without either of them even touching him- “are you laughing at us young Stark!?” Thor asked in disbelief and crossed his arms. “NOhOho!” Peter tried to reassure but failed expertly. Loki sniggered “I believe he is dear brother.. better give him something to laugh about huh?”

Thor grinned “I do believe you’re right brother” he mused.

Loki sniggered “ready to call for help yet Petey?” He muttered into his ear and the boy scrunched up with a barking a laugh “NEhEhEVER!” He declared boldly.

Loki tutted and looked at his brother. “Stark said his thighs and knees are ticklish.”

Thor chuckled at the protest of a shriek that came from Peter which though was quickly drowned by hysterical laughter as Lokis fingers went into his pits.

The god of thunder didn’t wait long for his own entrance and squeezed the boys thigh which, amusingly enough, with each squeeze they gained a higher squeal out of the boy.

Loki chuckled and shook his head, the boy could lean left or right and roll off, he could even put up a fight with his strength.. and yet..

“AHYEHE! OHOKAY!” Peter barked out and the gods let up.

Loki raised an eyebrow “you’ll call for help?” He mused and waited as the boy caught his breath.

Peter stifled most of his giggles before his hand went to squeeze Lokis own side.

To the boys surprise and glee Loki jumped.

The god sent him a warning glare “peter I’d truly advise against that” “why?” The boy grinned up at the god. “May I remind you that I am a god?”

Peter’s own mischief twinkled in his eyes “Thor will probably help me..” he mused. Loki raised an eyebrow “probably?” He mused “my brother is worse than me Buddy.”

Peter’s eyes widened at that “b-but we’ll be two!” He smiled timidly. Loki huffed “Are you going to call for help or not?”

The boy’s shoulders jumped as he chuckled through his nose.

Loki grinned “Unbelievable..” he hushed and looked at Thor. “You know, there’s a specific technique that got Thor to give in when we were children.” He said and watched as his brothers confusion morphed into surprise and glee.

Peter swallowed nervously and giggled “Thihis isn’t one ohof your Ahasgardian things right?” Loki laughed “No, this works all too perfectly on mortals”

Peter shivered at the sly grin. His silly grin fought its way right back onto his face “n-now hold on, no need for drastic- MEASURES!” He yelped when Loki suddenly rapidly squeezed and scribbled his side which sent sparks through his whole body. “HEHEY!” He squeaked and leaned away- falling onto the mats, front first, the gods hand on his back. “Uh-huh- Loki?” Peter asked and hoisted himself onto his elbows as he slowly understood his position- his face would lay awkwardly on the mats if he tried to shield his armpits. But if he kept his face from squeezing onto the mats they’d be open wide.

Loki chuckled at the giddy expression on the boys face. “You gonna call for help?”

Again. Peter shook his head.

It was fair to say that the god was not only surprised at the will to play but also at the stamina of the kid.

“Oh you’re asking for it.” He smirked down at the boy.

Peter squeaked in surprise at the demeanour change but didn’t get to dwell on it as the hands plummeted into his armpits.

“LOHOKIEHEHEEE!” Peter kicked his legs into the mats to try and relieve the tickle shocks even if only just lightly- Lokis nimble fingers found the sweet spot with practiced ease and vibrated on one armpit while on the other he scribbles.

Peter was probably loosing his lil head in the playful moment but the raging storm outside was positively forgotten.

“NAHAHAY! TOHOHOR!” Peter’s new protest made Loki look back and find Thors bold hands tickle the soles of the poor kid.

Chuckles from the door which ripped Lokis attention away from his attack and his hands slowed down enough for Peter to crank an eye open. “MIHIST- EHEY!” The boy scolded through his laughter and turned to look at Thor.

The billionaire in the doorway laughed “alright you two, let the kid up. I still need him today for lab time” Thor chuckled “do not worry stark! You’ll have young Stark with you in no time.” He mused. Loki rolled his eyes and sniggered “you good kid?”

Peter laughed but nodded and pushed Loki playfully “ahabout the move; IHi’m soho on your side- but I aham also so gehetting you back someday”

Loki raised a challenging eyebrow and then slowly, his ‘claws’.

Peter squeaked and rolled away “nohot today!” He laughed and got to his feet, hands in front of his body to protect himself.

The men laughed in choir.

“Loki we should continue training.” Thor stated, full of new enthusiasm. Loki glared at him “we are not doing get help” Thor grinned at him “we should.” Loki frowned “Peter—“

“NOPE! YOU GOT THIS!” Peter yelled with a laugh as he rushed out of the room.

The two gods laughed heartedly at the boys exit with Stark and got up. Maybe they could get along for awhile every now and again.

Meanwhile let’s hope Steve will be just as merciful as mister Stark was on Peter.

“Don’t get in trouble with them, huh?” His mentor asked with his smirk obvious in his voice.

Peter rolled his eyes with an obvious smile and flushed cheeks, his hand going through his disheveled hair.

Never mind..

[3xen]

under the gentle sky; i. r                                                               when you see a fellow classmate—in dire need of help, it’s only a natural instinct to assist them in any way.

n. as you read, my writing gets worse. possible pt.2 (?)

c. strangers to lovers, rainy day au, “soccer” is portrayed as “football”, profanity, reader & rin are hs students

raindrops pitter and patter across the brick tiles of the sidewalk—water flooding the streets of kamakura. the sole of his shoes, drenched, as the result of the sudden downpour. his hair soaked—almost as if he stepped right out of his bath. rin knew better. when the murky clouds begin to conceal the once mellow sky, it should have clicked in his mind—an umbrella would be of great use in this kind of weather.

his mother informed him of the weather that morning. but even so, he was reluctant to bring proper protection. the traveling distance from his home wasn’t far. he wasn’t going to be stopping anywhere on the way home—an umbrella was not necessary.

but here he was; jogging—surveying the area to find a place for shelter. rin mentally cursed the weather gods—if he caught any sort of cold from this weather, he’d be furious. just the thought of skipping football practice was a no-no.

after a few more moments of jogging, his eyes darted directly to a bus shelter—just at the corner of an intersection. he neared closer—finally having the chance to take a relieved breath as he sat seated on the metal bench. he slicked his hair back—away from his line of vision. he wondered, how could he get home now?

he could always resort to calling his mother—no. he couldn't do that, that's totally disrespecting his mother. sae? no. he shook his head—maybe the storm would cool down after a while. once the storm passed, he would leave.

“fuck.” he sat in silence for six solid minutes. the rain, in fact, spared no mercy for him today. the rain hadn’t stopped, even till now.

suddenly, rin hears a few light footsteps from beside him. he doesn’t pay any mind to them—ignoring their presence as a whole. but, the shoes look so familiar. his eyes scan the figure from the bottom of their feet till he can see their face—where he can clearly make out the identity of the person.

you wring out the water from your hair, almost like a shirt. you, too, don’t pay any mind to him—until you notice his lingering gaze. immediately, you can easily identify who it is. that football genius.

he looks away—shoving his fists down his pockets. you had never seen the football genius so powerless. itoshi rin? forgetting to bring an umbrella? something as simple as that?

you bask in the silence for a few more seconds—really not knowing what to say. i mean, did he even wanna hear anything at all? he was a quiet individual and didn’t seem like the type of person to tolerate others. it was already difficult enough to even approach him without some sort of unease.

“did you forget your umbrella?” his ears perk up at the sudden question. though his eyes are mainly focused on the somber road before him—you know he’s listening.

“yeah.”

“well,”

“you can have mine.” you continue, offering him your umbrella with a gesture of your hand. he turns—giving a short, quick glance to your offering, then back up to you. he looks displeased, but nonetheless, takes the umbrella.

his expression is visibly questioning your antics but he can’t urge himself to ask. it’s foreign—the kind gesture of yours. it caused a spiral in his head.

it was the first time—anyone witnessed his venerability. he let himself fall victim at your hands. it was shameful—rin never allowed hospitality from outsiders.

rin’s eyes flickered over to you as you begin to rise from your seat—all he could think was, oh. you weren’t gonna head home in the rain were you? it’d be pretty shitty of him to take something that you would desperately need in weather like this.

you pointed to the approaching bus—his eyes followed the direction of your finger and finally he understood what you meant. he felt somewhat relaxed—reassured that you giving up your umbrella was for good purpose.

he remained seated on the cold bench—watching your soaked figure enter the vehicle. you gave a brief, respectful bow to the bus driver and hurriedly went to find an available seat.

rin walked in silence that night—his thoughts in a daze. it was such a small, simple act. and it had him in shackles just like that. the reminder of your gesture quickly became the only topic on his mind for the remaining night.

© 3xen

[n-eoct]

—˚ ༘♡ ·˚ DIFFICULT . . . 1:45 AM

♡ CONTENT┊ MARK LEE

♡ WARNING┊ afab reader / use of weed / fwb (ig?) / fingering (f receiving) / oral (f receiving) / squirting (not explicitly stated but yeah) / pining (implied…?) / eating out + fingering combo ykwtfiu / mark calls your pussy pretty /

♡ NOTE┊MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. HII! okay, yeah i am back. pleas excuse my shit writing i have not done this in a while 😭 i will work hard to improve again! hope you all enjoy it🥺 feedback appreciated!

DIFFICULT. a word characterized by or causing hardships or problems. the definition didn’t quite fit the situation you had going on with mark lee but there wasn’t really any other way to describe it. it wasn’t a friendship, it wasn’t a fling, and it sure as hell wasn’t a relationship. the two of you know things about each others that no one else does, and have seen each other in the most intimate moments of life yet you were never seen together in any other setting. nobody would even think the two of you knew each other.

yet, without fail, the two of you end up sitting in his car talking like old friends while slipping in touches that weren’t necessarily deemed appropriate. it had become so normal for you, knowing that at 1 am on the dot he’d be parked outside your place. it always started out this way, sliding into the passenger seat, saying your hellos, and then its silence but only for a moment. watching mark shift in his seat, grabbing a black plastic bag from the back seat. inside was various items, chuckling at the baggy containing the weed that will soon be shared between the two of you. you always sat and watched him do everything, never asking any questions because you never felt the need to. your curiosity faded out over time, just allowing things to be the way they were.

eyes attentive to his hands, various rings scattered across his fingers. you could never admit out loud the effect it had on you, but it’s not like you needed to say it for mark to know. he knew you inside and out, easily picking up on the things you don’t say to his face. your cheeks felt hot, suddenly remembering what occurred around two weeks ago. your skin still tingled, somehow still able to feel the warmth of marks hand on your thigh. the night ending with your juices all over the car seat, and his ring adorned fingers. “what’re you thinking about?” mark’s voice snapped you back to reality, his tongue gliding over the wrap. swallowing the lump in your throat, unsure why he’d ask when he probably knows what’s on your mind. “nothing.” flat and short response, wanting to slam your head into the window in that exact moment. “you sure it was nothing?” his tone was low, raspy even. almost as if he had just woken up, resisting the urge to clench your thighs in that exact moment. unable to form any words, losing your voice so you nod instead.

he shrugged it off, reaching for the lighter in his pocket. you let out a breath of relief, not realizing you were holding it. usually weed is what gets mark talking but even today he was quiet, which wasn’t something necessarily for concern but it did make you feel uneasy. thousands of questions stormed your brain, checking off a list of things that could have him so quiet. you didn’t even know why you cared so much, you two weren’t dating and you weren’t friends either. “you know im not gonna ask again.” mark remarked sternly, leaning back into his seat as smoke began clouding the car. “it’s nothing mark.” you replied, reaching over to grab the blunt out of his hand. holding it up to your lips, just like you always did. a smile tugged at the corner of your lips, remembering how choked up you got the first time you did this. now, it’s like breathing regular air. you weren’t sure what sparked inside of you to do this, turning your head to mark. with every ounce of confidence, just barely brushing your lips against his as you blew the smoke in front of his face. you weren’t even sure where you were going with it, confidence disintegrated as quickly as it came.

mark stared at you, making you feel almost uncomfortable which is something that you’re not used to when the two of you were together. tugging at the hem of your shirt, that warmth from two weeks ago returned. mark rested his hand on your thigh, no longer staring but choosing to carry on the conversation in a nonchalant manner. you did your best to ignore the way he was rubbing your thigh, but it made it really difficult. the perfect combination of hot and cold, the rings scratching at your skin slightly. his signature beanie, dark jeans and a hoodie. it was such a usual and mundane outfit but on mark lee, it was more than that. physically refraining the urge to pounce on him, taking the initiative to slide your hand over his. eyeing him closely in hopes of a reaction, nothing. “mark” your voice barely above a whisper, yet he heard you. guiding his hand between your thighs, bringing his fingers right where you needed them. the wet patch on your panties a clear indicator of everything on your mind, no longer in need of voicing anything.

eyes locked to his, waiting for him to make the next move. he didn’t budge, instead removed his hand from the previous placement. your heart hurt, rejection and disappointment combined but you knew he didn’t owe you anything. biting down on the inside of your cheek, embarrassment overcoming your other emotions. “get in the back seat” he began shifting around in his seat, the blunt still in hand. “what?” you asked but found your body moving on its own, making your way to the backseat as instructed. hands folded on your lap, mark joined you and turned his body so he could face you. you watched him remove his hoodie, beanie falling off in the process. messy hair now visible to the eye, laying over his forehead. you were mesmerized to say the least, yet your moments of adoration were put to rest and soon replaced with surprised. mark putting you into a position where he was able to rest his face between your thighs, smirking at you from below.

“you trust me?” he asked, waiting for your approval before continuing. unable to trust you voice, you nodded your head yes but mark wouldn’t budge. “i need to hear you say it” he said softly, the voice change made you nearly lose it right then and there. “yes mark.” those to words were all it took for him to not waste anymore time, tongue flattening against the fabric of your panties. he spent time teasing you, figuring out what you liked most. mark came to be a little vocal, his groans against your pussy made you a bit feral. nails digging into his scalp at every flick of his tongue, and he hasn’t even taken your panties off yet. it felt like eternity before that fabric separating you from him was finally removed, tossed somewhere in the car that you didn’t intend on looking for later.

“so pretty…” his voice trailed off, eyeing your pussy like it was going to be his last meal on earth. he looked like he was in a trance, making you want to tell him to stop staring but also blushing at the adoration in his eyes. mark started off with kitten licks, your juices sticking to his chin like honey. just like before, he was taking his sweet time to figure you out. part of you agrees this would be more appropriate in a different setting but the way his tongue feels against your cunt, you couldn’t complain in the slightest. his tongue poked and prodded in ways you’ve never experienced before, twirling it against your most sensitive spots that had you crying out his name so loud you were positive someone has heard you. mark was efficient and precise with his movements, he brought you to the brink of an orgasm much quicker than you’d admit but then he pulled back. a whine of disappointment escaped your lips, frustrated and ready to complain until you felt a finger prodding at your entrance.

“fuck.” was all you could say, a light laugh heard from marks behalf as he began working you again. tongue taking care of your clit, finger curling against that one spot that only he could ever get to. you were crying out his name like a mantra, stimulated by two things at once. your thighs were shaking, that tightening sensation in your core a clear indicator that you were going to cum. “m’ gonna make a mess.” you choked out every word, attempting to close your thighs around him but mark made sure to keep them open. it was as if he didn’t even hear you, his priorities lie in the way he was drawing perfect figure eights against your clit. you couldn’t tell if it was his fingers or his tongue or both that brought you to this point but, that coil finally snapped. a string of curses followed, repeatedly crying out “fuck” while mark only continued to finger you through your orgasm. your juices were everywhere to say the least, staining his face, the car seat, and his shirt. an obscene squelch echoed in the car, his hand movements finally slowing down.

“next time, just tell me whats on your mind princess.”

[cataboliac]

Memories

WJSN’s Cheng Xiao

8.4k words

Warning: pretty angsty

Rainy days were always a hit or miss for you. If caught outside without an umbrella, hiding from the unforgiving freezing droplets would always be a nightmare for you. If it were a cold, indoor day, the rain made the day more peaceful; its cold embrace soothed you to a well-earned nap. Either way, you have heard a saying from mom that rain was considered good luck. It symbolized positive things such as change, renewal, and life. 

Maybe it was mom's way of making you feel better—for whatever reason—because today was not the case.

The day started out beautiful; the sky was like a dome of plasma blue. The clouds were fluffy marshmallows drifting under the gleaming disc of the sun. Suddenly, the beautiful blue shade began to darken into gravel-gray, and the gloomy rain clouds blotted out the sky and the tangerine sunlight. Then the rain started to fall from the heavens.

There wasn’t a day you weren’t drenched during your whole stay in China—it rained cats and dogs. You were lucky that you were already in the conference room when it started pouring. 

As you watch a droplet that slides down the window, you wonder why the higher-ups decided to send you out of all people to facilitate this important meeting. There are better people suited for this. Maybe the years you spent with the group as their manager made you the perfect candidate; you know this group inside-out, but you feel too attached to make objective decisions. 

Either way, it might have been fate that brought you here—for better or for worse. The weather seemed to reflect the inner state of mind, a storm of feelings brewing inside you. You are thankful, at least, that Starship sent an actual lawyer on this trip and someone you are at least familiar with. 

“Tsk. It’s only been crappy weather since we got here,” Jaesung says as he fiddles with his necktie. “And they’re late, again!”

“Yeah, to be honest, I just want to get this over with,” you reply as you tap on the window anxiously. 

The rain droplet you were following slides further down the window and out of sight. With nothing else to do, you sit down next to Jaesung. 

Jaesung slides the open folder that was in front of him towards you. “You think they’d finally show up?” he asks.

“I don’t know, but I want to see them.”

Looking down at the bundle of papers, the words “End of Contract” are written in huge font. Your heart always sinks when you read the names under it—Cheng Xiao, Meng Mei Qi, and Wu Xuan Yi. 

It was inevitable, but it still broke your heart when the higher-ups broke the news to you. Ever since that contract fiasco with Tencent, and their booming individual careers in China, they didn’t need an incentive to return to Korea. It was only a matter of time till Yuehua called in and decided to pull the plug—a year before their contract renewal with Starship.

Memories of the three Chinese girls flood your brain as your finger traces their names on the paper

Xuan Yi. You never met anyone as pleasant or as happy-go-lucky as her. Despite her aloofness on camera, she is the most sensitive and observant of everyone's feelings. You think it was because she grew up in hardship. She always made everyone else happy, even at the cost of her happiness. 

Meng Mei Qi. You hope the stories were false, but perhaps you never truly knew her. The Mei Qi you recall was insightful, compassionate, and one of the more mature members of the group. You prefer to remember her like this. She usually kept to herself, but she always knew what to say; Mei Qi was the best at expressing herself.

Cheng Xiao. No amount of words can even begin to describe her. Out of the three Chinese girls, she was the closest to you. Xiao was just perfect in every way possible. She was not just beautiful; everything she did was just as flawless as her. Xiao affects others by bringing the best out of them. She was a flower that made others bloom; that made you blossom. 

The "Chinity"—as they were fondly named—completed the 13-member girl group you were lucky to take in as a family. You watched them grow together, lead each other through hardships, and celebrate the best moments of their lives. Staying up for 18 hours at a time was worth it to see those 13 starry smiles. WJSN was your youth; they have changed you in so many ways.

Even the happiest of stories have to end someday. You remember the day you brought the three to the airport—and little did you know it was the last time you saw them. In this line of business, people will come and go out of your life, but that day you lost an enormous part of yourself.

Jaesung taps your shoulder, taking you out of your reverie. “How are you holding up?” he asks.

“I’m good. A bit nervous, to be honest. Just wondering whether or not the girls will show up," you reply. Taking in a deep breath, you take a moment to calm yourself down.

“They mean a lot to you. It's okay to be a bit tense.”

He pulls the folder towards him. “Don’t worry, this will be a quick meeting. Just some negotiations and the signatures. Then if they don’t show up, we can leave, rest up, and catch a flight tomorrow.”

As soon as Jaesung finishes his sentence, the door to the conference room opens. The two of you stand up to acknowledge the presence of the Yuehua executive officer. 

The executive officer enters first, and he holds the door open. You weren't expecting anyone else for this meeting. 

The clacking of heels echoes from outside the room. Your instincts kick in; something is up. You assume from the pattern of sounds that it was more than one person. Taking deep breaths, you anxiously await their entrance. The anticipation is killing you inside; it feels like waiting for the curtain to come down on the surprise main attraction.

And three ghosts of the past enter the room.

The past always catches up to you, one way or another. Xiao leads Xuan Yi and Mei Qi in a single file line as they enter the room. The years have been kind to them—despite their busy independent schedules, you are thankful they look healthy. 

The three look surprised to see you—eyes slightly wide and mouth agape—but they quickly regain composure as they approach the table. Xiao takes slower steps as she nears her seat in front of you, eyeing you up and down.

“We apologize for being late. We had to coordinate the girls’ schedules so they could all be here today,” the executive officer says as he closes the door. He then takes his place in between the girls. 

“It’s no problem. We can begin the meeting then,” Jaesung says. He nudges your shin with his foot, taking you out of your initial shock. 

This is going to be a long meeting.

_______________________________________________________________________

An hour passes by, and all the details are reasonably sorted out. It was arduous, but you’ve finally made it to the signatures. Jaesung gives you the paper for everyone to sign. 

You tap the table multiple times with your pen. Taking in a deep breath, you sign right above your name. Every stroke felt like you were losing a part of yourself. With the final inking done, you take one last look at your signature—ink lines permanently closing the doors to The Chinity. With the deed done, you pass the paper first to Xuan Yi.

Xuan Yi looks at you for the first time since she entered the room. She gives you her signature smile, but the eyes never hide what you truly feel. You can tell through those glassy eyes that Xuan Yi hesitates to sign. It is touching to see she has not changed; she still has difficulty saying no so that she does not hurt anyone. 

You nod at Xuan Yi, returning a smile. “It’s okay,” you mouth to her. 

Xuan Yi's smile falters for a split second. She nods back, and after a couple of seconds, she quickly signs on the paper and passes it to Mei Qi. She turns in her swivel chair to face away from you and the table. 

Mei Qi takes her time reading the contents. She specifically rereads one particular sentence, tapping it with her finger repeatedly. Leaning in for a closer look, you realize it’s the sentence with her name as “WJSN” Mei Qi. You hear an audible sigh from her, and then she signs the paper. She finally faces you, and her lips slightly quiver. 

Maybe she does care. 

Lastly, it was Xiao’s turn. 

The sight of Cheng Xiao entering the room was like getting struck by a freight train; fast and messy, it reopened feelings you had not felt for a long time. Xiao always captivated you in more ways than one—wide brown chocolate eyes, heavenly beaming smile, dangerous womanly curves. 

Today could not be a better example. Xiao has not changed over the years—she still had those lively eyes, plump red lips, and a simple yet killer attire that outlined her heavenly body. She was dressed in a long-sleeved black shirt and high-rise jeans that make her curves shine, but you notice she's slimmer compared to her days in Korea. 

After all these years, Xiao still makes you feel these emotions you thought you’d forgotten. 

She looks dangerously calm despite the situation; you wonder what is going through her mind. 

Xiao takes one look at the contract. Then in one fluid motion, she signs the paper. Xiao doesn’t even look up to you, turning to face the window when she passes the contract back to you; not even a single ounce of emotion on her face.  

What she does shocks you; no emotion whatsoever on her face. Xiao never wears her feelings on her sleeve and rarely does she talk about them, but now you can't seem to get a read on her. Sometimes, on a good day, you can predict her—you have known her for so long that you know she lets her actions do the talking. It feels like she placed a gigantic wall between you two. 

Has it been that long, Xiao, that I barely know you now?

You set aside any other negative thoughts for now and focus right back on the topic on hand. After a quick inspection, you pass the paper to Jaesung, who does his reading. 

“Everything seems to be in order,” Jaesung says, standing up and offering his hand to the Yuehua executive. 

“Thank you for your utmost cooperation,” the man says, accepting Jaesung’s gesture by shaking his hand, then offers the same to you. 

You quickly stand up, shake his hand, and swiftly let go. Even though endings like these are a part of everyday life, you still wish you had more time with these girls. 

“Mr. Lee, I believe we can discuss some of the smaller details of the contract. The girls would want to have some final words with their former manager.”

You try not to show any shock on your face, but you can’t help but raise an eyebrow. A wave of hope washes over you. 

Your final words with the girls.

Jaesung pats you on the back before following the Yuehua executive outside and closing the door. 

And now you’re left with The Chinity. 

Xiao still refuses to look at you. She stands up and approaches the window. You at least understand that she needs some space, and let her be for now. 

Xuan Yi quickly rounds the table and tackles you into a hug. You absorb the impact, catching her light body and cushioning her with your chest. Her arms tightly wrap around your torso. She shudders in your arms, and you feel part of your shirt suddenly get moist. 

"There, there. I'm here, Mèimei,” you tell her as you lightly pat her back. You have always called her your little sister, even if she was a few months older than you. 

This might be the last time you could call her that.

Mei Qi treads carefully behind Xuan Yi. She stops a few feet before you, shuffling between moving forward and staying in place. 

This doesn't go over your head. You gesture to her with your free hand to come closer, giving her your most reassuring smile. Mei Qi blinks, and tears suddenly start to roll down her face. With her walls broken down, she joins the hug. 

This is the Mei Qi you remember, and you pray she finds her footing again.

“I’m so, so proud of you two. You’ve both grown so well.” Xuan Yi bawls even more from what you say while Mei Qi tightens her embrace around you. 

“I can’t believe you’re even here,” Mei Qi says. 

“Me neither. This is all unexpected,” you reply as you settle into the group hug.

“How long are you staying here?”

“I’m only here till tomorrow afternoon. Then it’s back to Korea.”

Mei Qi clicks her tongue to that. “What terrible timing. I have a schedule in a while, and I’ll be busy the whole day tomorrow. At least we were able to see you, Oppa.” 

Xuan Yi finally calms down in your arms. She looks up to you. “It’s the same for me, Gēgē. I wish we had more time together.”

“It’s okay. At least we have this moment,” you say. You have to breathe deeply to prevent yourself from crying. 

“What about Xiao? Will she be okay?” you whisper to the girls.

Xuan Yi frowns at your question. It takes a while before she whispers back. “Oppa, I think you need to ask her yourself. We’ll give you some privacy.”

“We have to go now. It was great seeing you, Oppa,” Mei Qi says after.

Mei Qi is the one who breaks the hug first. She gives you a big smile, then blows a kiss to you. 

Xuan Yi gets on her tip-toes, kisses you on your cheek, then finally lets you go. Her face is slightly messy from all her crying; you’re not letting her out like that.

You reach your pocket for your unused handkerchief and hand it to her. “Here, keep it. Something to remember me by.”  

Xuan Yi beams from your impromptu gift. She uses it immediately, cleaning her eyes, patting out some of the smudged makeup on her face, and blowing her nose with it. You chuckle at her; she’s still the same untidy Xuan Yi, and you’re still picking up after her.

Mei Qi and Xuan Yi approach the door before turning to you, possibly for the last time.

“Goodbye, Oppa!” they say at the same time.

“Stay safe, girls.” 

Xuan Yi opens the door, and the two girls exit the room to continue their lives. It takes most of your willpower not to tear. It feels like a part of you was taken away with them. 

You hope they return with it one day.

_______________________________________________________________________

Now, it's you and Xiao left in the room.

Xiao still has her back on you. She has not moved a muscle since Jaesung left. It makes you uneasy; you are not sure how to approach her. 

Seconds pass, and neither of you budges from your positions. The silence is deafening, the air thick with tension that you can slice through with a butter knife. There is so much to say in so little time; where would you start? 

"Why haven’t you left yet?" 

It was faint—almost a whisper—but you heard her. Hearing Xiao’s voice gives you the courage to approach her. You find yourself walking towards her.

“Xiao?” You stop just when you’re within arm’s reach.

“It doesn’t have to be this hard, Oppa.” She shakes her head. Xiao’s voice is jittery, as if she’s terrified to talk to you.

You reach out your hand to her. “I don’t understand—”

“Stop.”

You withdraw your hand instantly. You had your arguments with Xiao before, but she has never used such a livid tone with you before. It's shocking, so much so that you're too stunned to move.

“Do you know how hard it is to leave people you love behind so unexpectedly?” Xiao’s shoulders start to shake. Her hand moves to her face, and you hear her start to sniffle. 

“I—I thought today was going to be easy. I was going to sign that stupid paper and try to move on with my life in Korea as a happy memory.”

“But why are you here?! Why, out of all times, do you have to show up when I’m about to move on?!” 

Every word she said was like a dagger to your heart, reopening wounds you thought you had recovered from. 

“I wanted to stay! I was okay with the back-to-back flights and never-ending schedules because I had a family to fall back to.” 

She turns around, and your heart breaks into a million pieces. Tears were streaming down her face. With Xiao’s mask finally falling off, her brown eyes carry a mixture of shock, hurt, and barely contained anger. You hate seeing Xiao like this.

“Most importantly, I h-had—I had you. I had someone to talk to about my worries, someone to hold me when I cry, someone to tell me everything was okay.”

That was the last straw for you. Xiao's outpouring of emotions opens your floodgates, and tears trickle from your eyes. Xiao has always been strong, but you hate seeing her now so miserable—she did not deserve this.

You reach out your hand to her again. It carefully inches towards her face this time, and Xiao doesn't show any signs of rejecting you again. Your fingers finally graze her silky skin, remembering how soft and smooth it is. Xiao doesn't flinch, closing her eyes to the feeling of your hand. You gently wipe away the tears that stain her flawless face with your thumb and step closer to her. 

A wave of nostalgia hits you as your arms circle around her. You remember this feeling blossoming in your heart—something only Cheng Xiao can evoke from you.

She opens her eyes, and they gaze back at you with a sense of longing. Xiao's eyes start to water, and more tears threaten to come out. Her arms shoot out for your waist, pulling you into her comforting embrace. Your body recognizes the familiar touch of her body as your arm wraps around her in a protective hug. Xiao releases all of her anguish onto your chest, crying and reinforcing her hold around you.

The years of separation have taken a toll on the two of you. It was four long years of rolling on through life, looking for the missing piece that made you grow. 

And finally, you are complete for now; here she is, in your arms, reunited at last.

______________________________________________________________________

“How did the hotpot taste for you?” Xiao asks after taking quick sips of her beer.

Hotpot is your favorite way to have a meal—it is the easiest way to feed a big group of people, there is so much variety in the ingredients, and it is a great way to bond over food. It's one of the things you shared with Xiao.

Xiao was the only one free to have dinner with you tonight. After calming down from the outburst of emotions, she led the two of you to her favorite hotpot restaurant just down the street from the Yuehua building. It has been hours, and the two of you chatted up a storm about the recent updates about each other’s lives.

You cherished every moment you brought the girls to any hotpot restaurant. Taking care of 13 girls in a hotpot restaurant is always a chaotic task, but these were some of the best memories you have.

You gulp the last of your Highball. Its sweet, snappy flavor washes out the meaty aftertaste left on your tongue. “Pretty delicious, but I still don’t know how you can eat so much.” 

She pouts at you for taking a jab at her unladylike appetite. “Please, you know I’m not even the heaviest eater among the girls!”

“I don’t usually eat like this. It has been a while since I’ve had a proper hotpot with someone. It’s a bit lonely to eat hotpot alone.” Xiao looks into her beer glass, then downs the last of her drink.

She sighs. “I’m sorry, I’m bringing down the mood, aren’t I?” 

“Hey. No, you’re not. Hotpot is always made for sharing.”

“Are you feeling better?” you ask her, deciding to change the subject. 

Xiao flashes you a smile. “I am. I never imagined seeing you again, Oppa. I missed you so much.” Xiao's tender smile warms you up faster than the hotpot can. It is always the comfort to be in her radiant presence.

“I missed you too, Xiao.” You reach out for her hand and gently squeeze it. It could be the alcohol, the hotpot, or the skinship with Xiao, but it suddenly feels hotter in the restaurant.

Xiao squeezes back, then she looks away—unmistakable that she's trying to hide the blush on her face.

Xiao flags down a server to get the bill. While waiting for it, the ringing from your phone grabs your attention. It’s a message from Jaesung.

*How are you and Xiao? We have a flight tomorrow. Just remember to come back safe and sound.*

You always appreciate Jaesung’s thoughtfulness. A couple quick taps on your phone, and you send a quick message to him, reassuring Jaesung that the two of you are having fun. 

After the two of you pay up, you both exit the restaurant, entering the cold rainy night. You open the umbrella to immediately shield you and Xiao from the rain. It’s comfortably chilly compared to the warm restaurant you were in, the drops of rain splashing on the umbrella adding to the cozy atmosphere. 

“Are you still free tonight?” she asks.

“Still got some time left. What’s up?”

Xiao hesitates for a moment before hooking her arms around your free arm.

“Can you take me home? Please?” 

Her request tugs on your emotions. The full moon floats in the middle of the night sky—a reminder that you only have limited time with her. You feel this is the only chance you will get to spend more time with her.

“Of course, I can.”

Xiao leads the way through the empty streets. It feels like a calm, solemn walk—it's only you two in the area, with street lights lighting up the path. It's so silent that you hear the pitter-patter of the rain around you. You catch a whiff of petrichor, noticing how different it smells in another country. A sudden gush of wind blows in your direction, making you tighten onto the umbrella handle. You pull Xiao closer in to keep her more secure under your arm.

The two of you enter a park. As you walk along the path, you’re reminded of the one you frequented back in Korea when the girls needed fresh air—or some time alone. You would wait at one of the park benches—reading a book or listening to music—then one of the girls would call you to bring them home. 

“This feels quite different, doesn’t it?” Xiao suddenly says out loud. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I’m still technically an idol. And we look like a couple, walking in a park. If we were in Korea… the reporters would have a field day.” 

Back in Korea, parks are used by some celebrity couples for their secret rendezvous. Some reporters would wait late at night just for a quick scoop. The gossip of an idol dating would be scandalous, to say the least. Strangely, she brought up such a situation.

“I’m glad none of that is here,” she says.

Before you can say anything, Xiao’s hand slides down your arm, intertwining her fingers in yours. Her hand is soft—feathery even—and it fits well like a well-slotted puzzle piece. On closer inspection, some parts of her palm are slightly calloused, a testament to the hard work she has endured over the years. 

You are taken so much by surprise that you stop in your tracks. It’s not like you haven’t held Xiao’s hand a couple of times—especially like a while ago—but not so openly in public and definitely not as intimately as this, her fingers laced around yours. 

“Xiao—”

“Can you allow me this? Just for this moment, let me pretend we had a happy ending together.”

Happiness. Simple as a glass of chocolate or tortuous as the heart. Bitter. Sweet. Xiao’s melancholic voice is the icing on this bittersweet revelation. The timing of all of this is anything but fair. Often these things happen for no reason, and though we wish for an explanation, there just isn’t one. 

“How long have you had feelings for me?” you manage to ask. You feel your own voice tremble at the weight of her words.

Xiao looks longingly into you, her eyes piercing the core of your person. 

“For so painfully long.” 

Lightning strikes in the distance. Xiao's confession turns you inside out, and there is no going back from it. Once a thunderbolt hits, your life can be irrevocably changed. You've fantasized about this moment for so long, but life had to be so cruel to have other plans for the two of you.  

“I’m not exactly sure when it happened. Or even when it started. All I knew for sure was that I was falling so hard for you, and I prayed every night that you might feel the same way.” 

“You’re very charming and kind. I've never known anyone so caring for anyone else. And you make me smile. That accounts for a lot," she added, choking up a bit. 

You looked into her eyes and saw tears, and your eyes started welling too. Every fiber in your being wanted to wrap your arms around her. You wanted—no needed to tell her that tonight everything was going to be okay, for once she got that happy ending. No words can comfort an already bleeding heart. 

So you did what you know best; let your actions do the talking. 

You pull Xiao towards you, wrapping your free arm around her waist, making sure the umbrella still covers the two of you. Her chest presses against yours, and Xiao lets go of her hand to wrap her arms around your neck. Her wide eyes can’t settle between looking at your eyes or your lips. 

“Oppa?”

“I’ve always wanted to hear those words from you, Xiao.”

“Then you mean…”

And then silence. The only sounds you could hear were the splashing raindrops and the distant thunder in the background. Once you cross this line, your relationship with Xiao will change forever. So you waited—until the crashing of booming thunder echoed the emotions cascading from your soul as you pressed against her lips. 

Wise men say only fools rush in, but you can't help it when it comes to Xiao.

Your eyes flutter shut as you feel her soft lips draw every breath from yours, her fingers carding through your hair, feeling the thud of your combined heartbeat sync up to each other. Her insistent mouth parts your lips, Xiao flicking her tongue against yours, mewling into your mouth from the contact. Years of unbridled, pent-up emotion trickled into this kiss. 

The two of you are forced to break the kiss to catch some air, leaning onto each other’s foreheads. You were so enthralled that you dropped the umbrella onto the ground—the two of you getting soaked in the rain—but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Xiao was in your arms, your true feelings known to her. 

Before you can pull back a bit more, Xiao pulls you in for another mind-blowing kiss. This kiss will forever be in your memory as it trickles down your entire being, engraving the feeling of Xiao’s lips into your memory.

It was just the two of you in the pouring rain, and nothing else mattered.

_______________________________________________________________________

The front door creaks open as Xiao inputs the correct code to the door. As you enter her apartment, you're amazed to see how spacious and chic the living room is; a far cry from the cramped dorm where they lived as 13 girls. It might actually be possible that she could fit at least 13 people just within the space of her living room. 

Xiao leads you to the kitchen island on the side of the room. She grabs two glasses from a drawer, fills them up with the water dispenser, and passes one to you. The warm water heats you up as you gulp it down, immediately feeling a warm buzz spreading all over your body. It slightly helps stave off the wet, cold feeling from your coat. Thankfully that was the only thing drenched from the rain, apart from your hair.

"Let me grab some towels. I'm freezing from the rain. I'll be back!"

Xiao disappears into the hallway. With nothing else to do, you decide to explore the living room. Her place feels homey, filled with the typical furniture—a couch in the middle, a side table right next to it, and a fluffy carpet to match. On the far end of the room is a cat castle, and you could barely make out an outline of Xiao's cat Susu fast asleep on the highest perch. 

Picture frames fill up the table with photos of her family and friends. As you peruse them, two images grab your attention. 

The first is a photo of 13 very familiar girls. Upon closer inspection, you realize it was the picture of their debut many years ago in that big gaming tournament. The innocent smiles remind you of simpler times, the start of humble beginnings for 13 young girls. Your heart swells with pride looking back on how far they've come, no matter how the meeting ended today. 

The second photo surprises you; it’s a picture of the two of you dancing in formal wear. The smiles on your faces stretch out to the edges. The two of you hold on to each other so lovingly that anyone else would mistake you as a couple.

A towel suddenly lands over your head, obscuring your vision. Before you can turn around to see the culprit, her arms wrap around your waist. “That was one of my favorite memories.”

“How did you even get that photo?” you ask as you remove the towel obstructing your vision, using it to dry your hair. 

“Exy took the picture. Believe it or not, she knew about my feelings for you. They all did.”

“No wonder they kept pushing you that night to me, especially to dance with you.”

"I’m glad we had that one dance," she says, and you barely catch a hint of sadness in her voice. Xiao lets go of you and takes the picture frame from the table. She traces it longingly. 

“We can always do it again, someday,” you say with some melancholy in your words. You know it’s only comfort in your words, with little truth and confidence in them. If only you had the guts to even ask Xiao out on a date before, despite the circumstances. 

Her eyes suddenly go wide, and she places the picture down. Xiao takes out her phone, and with a couple of taps, a familiar song plays around the room. 

“Take my hand?”

As Xiao offers her hand, the piano's slow and haunting melody echoes around the room, taking you back to that moment with Xiao. Every note plays on your heartstrings, making the hair on your skin rise. You offer your hand in return. Like before, her soft hands carefully slide into yours as she guides you to the middle of the room. 

Take my hand

Dejavu strikes you, overriding your senses, and sends your brain into autopilot. Your arms instinctively wrap around her curvy waist as her arms wrap around your neck securely. The two of you start to slowly sway to the music. You smell the sweet, rosy perfume that Xiao really loves to use. It hits you like a drug, your lungs taking it in as if it was oxygen to live on. You pull her closer, trying to engrave the feeling of her smooth and porcelain skin into your own.

Take my whole life too

You are Icarus—drawn to the sun's fiery light, running out of time, chasing the impossible. You would prefer this, however, then never find out Xiao returned these feelings for all these years. If you want a happy ending, that depends, of course, on where the story stops. 

For now, it has ended here, but your love for Xiao will always be immortalized in this memory.

For I can't help falling in love with you

​​You looked down to see Xiao looking back at you; her mouth was already waiting like a question. Her focus darts between your eyes and lips as she pulls you in slowly towards her face. She stops inches before your lips touch, feeling her breath brush against your mouth. All you can hear is the clock ticking down, the beating of your heart, and Xiao’s soft breathing.

"Please. Stay the night."

It was all the permission you needed. You waste no time and press your mouth against Xiao's plump lips. She did more than just not stop you; she kissed you back with such ferocity. It was earth-shattering—her soft lips against the bite of the liquor and sugary coke still on your tongue. Xiao fervently kisses you with such force that it feels like she's taking your breath away with every smack.

This is an entirely different situation; it screams of want, of need to commit this fleeting moment into a memory, for all the lost time to cascade into one final momentous passionate instant.

Your calves hit the couch behind you. You pull Xiao down as you sit down on it, making her straddle you and adding more to the passionate embrace. She breaks the kiss, leaning back to tie her hair into a ponytail. Not to leave you hanging, Xiao starts to rock her hips back and forth. It’s your turn to moan; you didn’t realize how hard you were until every grinding movement from Xiao sent shockwaves of pleasure up your spine. 

Both of your hands move from her bottom to enter her shirt, exploring up and down her body. Her icy porcelain skin shivers on contact, Xiao purring to the warmth of your hands. Xiao grabs your hands and guides them to the back of her bra, allowing you to undress her. You hear her hum as the bra slackens around her, watching it loosen under her shirt. She pulls her shirt off with her bra—an unforgettable sight to behold. Xiao’s magnificent ample breasts bounced in the air, free from their constraints. Her light brown nipples were already taut from anticipation. 

Your hand cups her breast, and Xiao groans as she closes her eyes. Going down from her lips, you kiss down her neck, hearing Xiao sigh when you inch closer to her chest. You kiss between her cleavage before diving and sucking lightly on a nub. 

Xiao whimpers, hearing her voice reverberate through your eardrums. She leans back, giving you more access to her succulent bosom. Your tongue swirls around her tit while your fingers slightly twist and pull on the other, alternating from one bud to another. Xiao is putty in your hands and shakes from your ministrations. She tries to muffle herself with her hand, but her sweet, needy voice cracks through. 

“Wait, wait! Slow down!” Her hands grasp your head, and you groan as you stop playing with her voluptuous globes. Xiao takes a couple breaths before speaking. “Let’s take this to my bed.” 

She gets off you, pulls you up, and drags you into the adjacent hallway. Xiao giggles while pulling you along for the ride, and eventually, you reach her room. It has a spacious queen-sized bed, definitely enough for the two of you. Xiao guides you onto the bed—the two of you settling by the headboard—and continues where you left off by straddling you again and taking the lead this time. 

Off goes your shirt, taken away by Xiao and thrown haphazardly somewhere in the room. She caresses your chest, admiring your fitness, before diving into your neck. A nibble from her teeth causes you to shiver, making you catch your breath as she marks your neck as hers. You keep your hands to your sides, enjoying how Xiao takes charge. 

With a quick peck, she kisses down your chest, and you watch as Xiao crawls downwards to your groin. Positioning herself between your legs, she palms your bulge, and a groan escapes from your throat as she lightly squeezes. She looks up to you before pulling on the hem of your pants. You nod back, helping her unbuckle the fastener and Xiao tears off your pants and underwear. 

Your rod is released from its confines. Xiao’s mouth goes agape at your size, her eyes running up and down its length. She grasps it with one hand, slowly pumping you. Xiao is delicate with you, a warm hand going up and down your shaft, the other hand gently cupping and massaging your balls. 

 “Fuck—go a bit faster, Xiao.”

She doesn't follow. Instead, you watch as her tongue joins in the fray, first licking your head, her tongue circling and lapping up your pre-cum. Xiao looks up to you with those doe-like eyes that send even more shockwaves up your spine. She kisses the top of your head before sucking down on it hard. Your breath hitches at the sensation, your stomach flexing from her actions. Time is agonizingly slow as you watch Xiao in between your legs, erotically pleasure you for the first time.

Xiao abruptly stops her ministrations, letting go of you. You’re about to protest before she wags her finger at you, a mischievous glint in her eyes. Xiao then lines your cock between her breasts and squeezes, enveloping your shaft with her tits. She then slowly slides them up and down; thanks to her previous work, you easily slide in and out of her cleavage. She never breaks eye contact with you, catching the tip of your head with her mouth and giving it a couple of flicks with her tongue. 

This new sensation is mind-numbing. Tit-fucking does not feel as close to actual fucking, but it is just crazier to see Xiao in such an erotic position. You cannot help but thrust as you feel your abdomen gets tighter with every passing moment.

Your arms shoot to Xiao’s shoulders, keeping her in place. You did not want to blow your load too early; the night was very well young. Xiao understands and releases your cock from her pillowy confides, placing a quick peck on your tip. She slowly pumps you; the sheen of saliva coating your shaft makes it easier for her hand to slide up and down.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

You chuckle at her silly question. “I’m definitely more than okay. Now it’s your turn.”

Xiao crawls up beside you. Taking the lead, you surprise her by kissing her as she lies on the bed. It takes effort to be as delicate as possible, careful not to put pressure on her with your weight. You line kisses down her chest—making sure to give her delectable pair a good squeeze as you pass them—down to her toned abs and finally settle between her thighs.  

You unbutton her jeans, and Xiao lifts her legs to help you remove her pants. She slowly opens her legs for you, revealing a damp spot in the middle of her white lace panties. Planting kisses first on her feet, you line more kisses up her legs, eventually ending up by her inner thighs. She tenses up as you inch closer to her core. Your curious fingers push on the fabric, and she whimpers; Xiao’s dripping wet.

A foot nudges you on your side. “Stop teasing, Oppa,” she says, her voice laced with impatience. Xiao bites her finger in anticipation, waiting for your next move. 

You oblige her request, and without delay, you help take off the last of her clothing. You posture up first to take in the hair-raising sight before you; Xiao is now fully bare in front of you, and no words can describe how ethereal she is in her most vulnerable form. This is a moment that will be etched forever in your memory. Not wanting to prolong the suspense, you dive right in and lick up her folds.

Xiao gasps loudly to the initial touch of your tongue, raising her hips up. Your arms quickly pin her down as you lap her up. She’s intoxicatingly sweet, getting you high faster than the highball you’ve consumed earlier. She squirms under your touch, her hand gripping the bed sheets, threatening to rip them to shreds. You shock her by inserting two fingers, Xiao’s tight cavern surrendering to your digits. You watch as her glassy eyes roll slightly up before closing, her face contorting with pleasure. The moans of absolute bliss are music to your ears.

“Fuck, that’s so good.”

Xiao is never vulgar with you, which absolutely turns you on. Your tongue moves up and down faster, never giving Xiao a moment of respite. She reaches out for your hand to help distract her from the overwhelming pleasure coursing through her, but it’s not enough to stop the inevitable, as she moans louder and her walls get increasingly tight around your fingers. 

“A-ah—fuck! I-I’m close!”

With one last flick on her clit, Xiao explodes in waves of pleasure as she cums on you. You do your best to catch every drop, feeling some of her juices overflow onto parts of your jaw. Her thighs grip you like a vise while her nails bore into your hand. It’s a pain that hurts too good. 

As her hold on you loosens up, you kiss up her body. Still overly stimulated from her peak, she shakes from every contact with your lips. You pass her abdomen, her chest, finally reaching her lips with a kiss. 

“I don’t want to ever forget this day,” Xiao says, her voice soft and delicate. 

“Let’s make it memorable then.”

You line up your head to the entrance of her slit. You look into her eyes one more time. “Are you ready?”

Xiao nods and gives you a chaste kiss. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” 

You slowly insert yourself. As soon as your head penetrates her, the immense tightness of her walls almost overwhelms you. Both of you are speechless; Xiao's mouth is also agape. You try to moan or grunt, but you are just swamped with pleasure. Xiao arches her back. She tries to muffle her moans against your neck, Xiao pulling you closer and simultaneously pulling you deeper into her.

“Oppa—you’re so big,” she moans, groaning louder as you sink further and stretch her out more. You gather Xiao in your arms while her legs wrap around your butt, deepening your connection. You pause when your length is fully embedded in her. The two of you take deep breaths; it takes a couple of moments for you to get accustomed to the sensation of her, savoring the warm, encompassing feeling.  

“Try moving Oppa, but go slow, please.” 

Now that you are used to the feeling, you pull halfway out of Xiao and gently thrust back in. The two of you groan as you fill her up to the hilt. Thrust after thrust, you develop a slow yet comfortable rhythm. Her breasts heave with every deep thrust. Xiao whimpers with each stroke. You look down at her, and she is as beautiful as ever—glassy eyes that focus on you, lips partly parted from panting, cheeks flushed from pleasure. 

She pulls you down and kisses you. You taste your shared breaths and feel the combined thud of your heartbeats as your bodies synchronize, moving as one in your fiery embrace. You suddenly feel a sharp pleasurable sensation nipping onto the side of your neck, causing you to gasp. Xiao’s teeth sink into flesh as she sucks and nibbles on your pulse point.

You return the favor by increasing the tempo of your thrusts. Your cock pistons in and out sustainedly, hitting Xiao's sensitive spots deep and hard. Xiao breaks the kiss and squeals loudly, grasping onto you tightly. Her nails scrape across your back, making you hiss and add to the mixture of pain and pleasure. 

Xiao starts to shake suddenly—her walls rapidly contract around you as she reaches her limits first, succumbing to her second orgasm of the night. Xiao brushes her fingers through your hair, clinging helplessly around you, trying to pull you over to the peak with her. You stay still, feeling her contract around you, watching her squirm and mewl from her climax. To help calm Xiao down from her high, you pepper kisses around her face, holding her tenderly in your arms. 

It takes a couple moments before Xiao relaxes around you. She kisses your cheek. “I wanna be on top,” she whispers. With you still embedded inside of her, you roll over, your back on the bed and deeper in Xiao in this position. 

Xiao plants her hands on your chest, slightly raking you. "F-fuck, even deeper!"

She moans at your size, groaning louder as she sinks further onto you. You pull her in to fervently capture her lips as the two of you try to get used to the indescribable tighter feeling. You taste your shared breaths as her voice hums around your face. Xiao then starts grinding, moving, and gyrating those thick hips on hers.

All you can do is nod as she starts to rock her hips, your mind blanks and is only filled with Xiao. You moan from her movements, your toes curling into the mattress. Her bed creaks steadily in the background, matching the sounds of your slapping flesh. Your hands move to her butt, kneading her cheeks to guide her motions. You watch as Xiao’s glassy eyes roll slightly up before refocusing back to you. “Fuck, you’re so deep in me.”

Getting a gather of her rhythm, you start to move your hips, grinding back into her. You knead, squish, and fondle her breasts, watching them heave with your every thrust. Xiao’s moans and screams reverberate throughout the room. Her walls gradually tighten around you, and you feel her impending climax. You hasten it by looking for her clit and rubbing it, pushing her to the limit.

“Ah—I’m—!” Xiao lets out a scream of delight. Her body starts to tremble, and she falls forward onto your chest. You feel her pussy clench as Xiao enters her third orgasm of the night. She quivers in your hold, clinging tightly onto you while still trying to ride you to your orgasm. Xiao is leaking, absolutely lost in her ecstasy as you wildly thrust into her. Your body starts to shake as you try to hold out a bit longer. Her walls contract around you long enough for her to finally pull you over to the edge. 

“Xiao, I’m about to—”

“In me, in me, please!”

A warmth surrounds you as you fill and spread your white seed along Xiao’s walls as she threatens to milk every ounce of you. She hums at the feeling of your semen filling her to the brim. Xiao peppers you with kisses around your face, trying to bring you down from your high. Your breathing returns to normal. The pulsations finally stop, but you decide to stay in her, savoring the moment.

It feels like an eternity passes while the two of you recover, only hearing the sounds of each other's breathing fills the room. The sheets were ruffled, the pillows scattered around the bed, your bodies entangled in the embrace and covered in sweat and other bodily fluids. Xiao rolls off to the side, and the results of your affair slightly drip onto your legs. The two of you are too tired to clean the mess, drawing the blanket over your bodies.

“I wish we could just run away and live like this forever, just the two of us,” Xiao says, not hiding the sadness in her voice. Xiao embraces you and settles her head on the crook of your neck.

Your arm pulls her in.  You give her a kiss on her forehead. “A nice beach house by the sea, just the two of us.” Your eyes start to get heavy. You try to fight the sleep off but to no avail, and close your eyes.

Xiao yawns, hugging you tighter in her embrace.

“I don’t want this to end.”

It was barely a whisper, but you heard it. If only this were like the movies—the credits roll, the audience cheers, and the guy gets the girl. Sadly, these were the cards that were dealt.

“I wish we had more time,” you whisper back. 

Xiao places one more kiss on your lips, and sleep finally takes you.

The story of life is quicker than the wink of an eye; the story of love is hello and goodbye until you can ever meet again. 

———————————————————————————————————

The first thing you notice as you gain awareness from your sleep is that it is cold. The upper half of your body wasn’t covered by your blanket, only relying on the shared body heat from last night. 

The second thing you notice is that the bed feels emptier; you feel around for him, but you frown when you realize he left earlier than expected. You open your eyes, hoping to see him come out of the shower, but after a few minutes, it highly seems that won't be likely.

The third thing you finally realize is that your body is sore. The two of you made love last night—all the years of pent-up and unbridled emotion were finally laid out. You stretch yourself out on the bed; it still feels like last night was all just a dream.

After taking a quick shower, you enter the living room to be greeted by Susu. As a part of her every morning routine, Susu leads you to the kitchen to be fed. 

Entering the kitchen, you approach the fridge and notice a sheet of paper pinned on by a magnet. Your heart skips a beat; recognize the handwriting.

You take the letter off the fridge and start to read it. 

My dearest Xiao,

I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye, but I had to leave early to catch a flight back to Korea. 

He was always thoughtful, no matter what the situation. He didn't need to write a letter, but it meant the world he did.

There's so much to say. I want to start from the beginning because it's what you deserve. I want to tell you everything from the bottom of my heart. But where do I even begin? 

Your vision gets blurry, and it's suddenly getting harder to breathe.

How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard. You’ve changed me forever. And I’ll never forget you.

Tears drop onto the paper, and you cover your mouth to stifle the sobs. In another life, you had your happiness together.

I love you Xiao

AN: Well... it’s been a minute! I actually meant to post this way last month around June. I... actually was away for a while. I don’t want to go into details in this post, but I had to shut myself away and go into hiatus from a lot of things because I developed an anxiety disorder. 

I got back to writing last week, and I’m still trying to catch up to all my fellow writer’s works! I really missed writing, but I’m still technically on “hiatus” because I need to build myself up first again. I only finished this because I didn’t want to waste this idea.

This piece was super fun to make, especially because Xiao doesn’t have enough fics, and it was my first time writing angst! I tried to my utmost ability to edit myself and do other things myself because I want this fic to show everyone this could be the start after a hiatus. And the dynamic between the Chinese girls and WJSN was such a fun concept to explore. And if you guys didn’t get it in the end, it was Xiao’s POV. A writing technique I’ve always wanted to try!

Lastly, it was her birthday recently! So belated Xiao xiao! 

Anyways, I’m glad to have posted. Till next time everyone!

[smutracha]

Volume XII

rewind <3 fast forward

Mafia!SKZ Yandere!SKZ Afab!reader Poly!SKZ

tw: violence, blood, guns, knives, nicotine, drugging, alcohol, ptsd, sexual harrasment, mentions of self harm, depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder, depictions of death and gore

smut warnings: oral(f), degradation, praise, God kink, fluffy, soft passionate sex

Wednesday – Hyunjin

Throughout your days with the boys you experienced so much, the laughter and fooling around, the movies and cuddling, even training with them. But with Hyunjin blossomed a precious connection. He sat quietly in your midst, painting as you read. He shared his favourite verses with you and braided daisies in your hair. He dressed you in sundresses and lace. He bathed you in candlelight and kisses. He treated you like a butterfly, like his own garden. Something to be nurtured and loved. Something he admired so purely.

You sat outside in your garden with a book in your hand. Reading poetry in the gentle hold of nature. “Here you are. You know better than to run off before I can even finish getting you dressed, little muse.” He sighed and sat behind you to start on your hair. “I have today all planned out, wanna make it special.” “Yeah? What’s the plan?” “Can’t tell you, that’ll just spoil the fun. Now, what kinda hair do you want today?” “A crown, please” “Your wish is my command little muse. What are we reading today?” “Poetry” he peaked over your shoulder while his hands worked expertly, weaving and plaiting your hair.

“Wanna hear my favourite?” “Sure, little muse.”

“How long will I love you?

Will love you until the mother nature nurture

Till the time, when pretty flowers stop blooming

And when each single leaf begins, deserting the trees

Will love you until the storms get over torture

How long will I love you?-“

He cuts you off, filling in the words as his hands settle the finishing touches of your hair.

“Will love you until the stars stop twinkling

And the moon stop kissing the dusky night

Until the planets, in the universe keep stirring

Will love you, till the sun shining dawn blinking

How long will I love you?”

He stands and rounds you so that his eyes can meet yours, his hand outstretched, an invitation to allow him to grant your every wish. Hyunjin knew that he could only surrender himself to you, you’d enchanted him. You were his muse, his blessing.

And where he left off you picked up, dropping the book to where you had previously sat. you were enraptured in his eyes. You were his as wholly as he was yours. There was no escaping him.

“Will love you, until fire on the wood retain burning

And the blue shores, stop showing the giant waves

when high tide is witnessed, moon craving for earth

Will love you, until milky galaxy way keeps churning

How long will I love you?”

You hadn’t even noticed as he was leading you through the halls of your home. His hand on your back made it so that he was the only thing in your mind.

“Will love you as long as fluffy clouds float

And rain showers longing for weighty flood

I will love you until ship sail along small boat

To the love paradise where lies no royal blood!

How long will I love you?”

The scenery of the house was new, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. In that moment all you knew was him, your Hyunjin.

“Will love you, till the friend has fall over deeds

When the plants, stop reproducing joy seeds

I will love you until the heart of earth lives

Till the last breath, longer than snow fall gives

How long will I love you?”

He brought you to a stop before a grand door. It was impossibly breath taking and it made no sense that a door could appear so regal and untouchable. It only meant that was behind it was so much more.

“I will love you, until icy glacier on poles, melt maturity

Till the river, flows the water of holiness, throws futurity

When the days are left, in charity with no good seasons,

And life has bid us in purity, to rest us with great reasons

How long will I love you?”

The room opened up and your brought to the middle. Your eyes blown wide as you took in the canvases, the paints, the plants, the wide fairytale windows. The beautiful balcony that opened up to overlook the garden. You were inside of him. This was all him. His soul, his heart, his being. He came to meet your eyes, such fondness present as he stared into our soul. But this time it was him who completed the verse he had left off. His gentle touch on your cheek as he came impossibly close to you, lips a mere centimetre away.

“Will love you till beloved hearts greet our name

Till the melody of life stop tuning the musical bliss

And when the ecstasy breathes the songs of waterfall

Will love you until blessed souls meet our fame”

And his kiss felt like a rain shower in spring, it felt like flowers floating on the breeze, it felt like the world stopped, and only the two of you existed in his castle.

“let me love you, muse. Let me adorn you in every fine fabric, in all the jewels of the world. Let me give you myself. Let me have you too.” “of course, of course. You can have me; you can have every part of me. I am yours.”

He spun you around in his arms, giggles filling the air between you before he sat you gentle on a bed you hadn’t even noticed. “Okay, pixie, I wanna paint you. Is that ok?” “Yes, anything for you.” “God, I love you. Now come on, lay back for me.”

And with his sweet and gentle touch he guided you into your current state. You laid resting on cream-coloured silken sheets. The same decadent fabric twisted around your wrists and ankles, pinning you to the bed. His easel brought so that he could paint you at the perfect angle. “I love you, my muse. I’ll take such good care of you.” He trailed a finger lightly down the valley of your breasts, down to your navel, even further until he was tapping ever so softly at your now slick clit. A whimper drawing from your chest as his tongue played with the sweet spot on your neck. And when he bit, it was a striking contradiction of the gentle love he had been showing so far. He was satisfied with the gasp he heard at the bite. He made sure to leave it blue and swollen before he rose again.

“Right and now for our finishing touch.” And the same silk he had you held in was brought to your eyes and you could see nothing. You felt his breath fan across your neck, curving your spine unconsciously. He chuckled and you heard the soft padding of his feet as he retreated. “So pretty. You’re so beautiful, all put on display. Aphrodite must be jealous of you, baby.”

The complement hit you in a way you could never have anticipated. It was so hazing to hear such sinful words. The idea that he could ever think you so outrageously beautiful that Aphrodite herself paled in comparison had you shivering in eroticism.

The soft tinkering of brushes against glass filled your senses. The sounds of painting seemed to last forever before you heard the gentle thump of a palette being put down. “Now for some colour.” His voice was nearer now.

You jumped as his lips encountered your ribcage, you could feel him settle on the bed, hands on your sides as his lips left feather-like kisses on your stomach and beneath your breasts. He started licking gently as his mouth worked its way higher. And a hiss sounded as his teeth bit strongly into your nipple. Without any warning his fingers were at your entrance. Circling gently while he continued to bite and suck across both breasts.

“You must really love this, you’re gonna ruin these sheets if you keep dripping like this.” “Feels so good, need more.” “Not yet angel.”

And then he was gone again, having left bruises across your stomach and breasts. He was pleased with his work, the way your body looked, even on canvas. You were just so perfect, his own personal goddess. And so, he went back to painting. “You were so kind to share your poetry with me my angel, so let me return the favour.” You listened intently as his words riled you up more than any poem should ever be able to. Be he was so sensual, so devout, so gone for you and his words only proved to you that he was now yours. Just as you were his.

“I surrender to you

I surrender to your eyes

I surrender to your arms

I surrender to the passion

That beats inside my heart

I surrender to the longing

That burns inside my soul

I surrender to the will of our souls

Intertwined forevermore

Our love is an endless dream

One day it will shine like sunbeam

Your love dwells in my heart deep

You’re everything I need

You’re my shining star

Come love, let’s walk hand in hand

For life without you, I can’t stand”

And with those words you came, mewling and whimpering at his soft praises. He adored the way he could control your body so passively.

It had felt like ages without his touch and then he was done. “There we go, now let’s get my next reference ready.” “Wait no, Hyune, don’t leave me.” “Little muse, I wasn’t going anywhere. You’re my reference. Sweet silly little goddess.”

His hands met your skin again, trailing over your frame as his lips came to find yours. You could feel every inch of his bare chest. The blindfold quickly becoming your worst enemy as it stole the sight of your prince from you. But just as the thought pranced over your mind, your eyes were blessed with the sight of the artist above you.

His lips left yours as he found his way down to your leaking cunt. “God you look perfect.” His mouth dove right into you, like a starved man he took everything he could from you. Only letting up after pulling three orgasms from you.

He took to leaving small bruises on your thighs, claiming it was what he needed for his creative process. The sun had long dwindled down and the sky was glowing pink. He looked so beautiful in this light. Where he thought of you as his goddess, you thought of him as your god. His slender, lithe frame awash in the glory of nature. He was magnificent and even as his head bent between your things, peppering the bruises with worshipping kisses you let the words fall off your tongue. “You are my god.”

His eyes shot up to find yours, a new crazed kind of hunger shone in them. ”Say that again, my muse.” “You are my god.” A whine sounded in his throat as he melted at the sound of your sweet voice calling him that. “Will you worship your god? Would you do that for me.” “Yes, yes I would. Let me worship you in return, my God.”

He rushed to undo the ties that held you captive and brought you to your knees to kneel before him. He quickly shed his pants and underwear. His beautiful cock slapped against your cheek as it sprang free. “Open up for me. M not gonna go easy on you, I know Minho already trained this beautiful throat so now I expect you to be able to take me down that beautiful throat of yours.” You could only nod in awe of his cock. How could every single part of a human being be so beautiful?

You opened your mouth for him and immediately his hips took to an inhumane pace. He was fucking your mouth as if his life depended on it. “Listen to you choking on your God’s cock. So pathetic. Such a shame, I truly thought you were a goddess, turns out you’re just a whore. Oh fuck! M gonna cum, m gonna cum and I want you to swallow it. Oh o- fuck.” And like that he came, cum shooting down your throat and you swallowed around his cock, making him groan at the overstimulation. He pulled out of your mouth and planted a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Oh, my muse, thank you. Thank you. Just give me a sec, gotta catch my breath.” After a few minutes in each other’s arms, he stood up and came back holding a camera. He adjusted your body so that your legs were spread artfully over the bed and your pussy was exposed before he snapped a photo. Telling you it was for his next painting as he grabbed his shirt from the floor, using it to wipe your now spent body down. He lifted you in his hold and carried you from the room. He insisted the two of you go hunker down with the boys for a movie night.

The next day you were handed a present from a clingy Hyunjin. “Open it. Open it please.” “Okay fine.” And there it was, a painting of the most beautiful woman you had ever seen. Little purple flowers scattered over her body. “It’s gorgeous, is it me?” “Yes, it is. It’s you, my muse. My goddess.” “I love you, my lord.” “Yeah? Wanna get on your knees and worship your god again, goddess?” you were so engulfed in each other you hadn’t even seen Changbin walk into the room, pause as he heard your words, and then leave to tell the rest of the guys about what he just witnessed.