#they can’t keep their hands to themselves

[cntloup]

Mafia!Simon x Bartender!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

You've been working here for ages, in this once rusty old bar which is now adorned by lively colors and music, turned into the best nightclub in the city, serving the best drinks and entertainments with the most beautiful dancers.

All in all, you have witnessed the worst and the best of this place. 

And you have come to know the people who own the place. 

In fact, you know them like the back of your hand, even better than themselves one might say. 

You're bright and perceptive, and working as a bartender in a place like this where it is jam-packed with important people all the time has its own perks. 

With a little bit of booze and honeyed words you bring out everyone’s hidden side and in no time, they’re spilling their deepest darkest secrets to who seems like just a sweet, harmless bartender. 

“Here you go.” you say to Simon, placing his usual Kentucky Bourbon on the counter, “Thanks, dove.” he says and brings the glass to his lips. 

“You know... I say don’t fuck around with the Russians!” you remark while drying the cups and placing them on the shelves. 

They asked your opinion on the matter since you’re their most trusted ally outside the group. As a matter of fact, they consider you part of the group by now. 

He chuckles before saying “That’s what I told Price.” 

“So why is he doing this?” you ask regarding cutting a deal with the Russians and Simon shrugs. 

You’ve had a weird feeling about it since they mentioned it to you. 

“Well, if any of you care about my opinion, don’t do it. It just doesn’t feel right to me.” you say with a shrug and look over to find him deep in thought, eyebrows furrowed and gorgeous brown eyes focused on somewhere far away. 

Gods, he’s so handsome! You've been fond of him for some time now, and by the looks and little touches he gives you, you’d say the feeling is somewhat mutual. 

Out of all of them, he’s always been the closest to you.  

And he’s been your biggest protector all throughout this wild ride you’ve been on together. 

He always keeps an eye on you in case any of the customers gets too close and makes you uncomfortable; God forbid if any of them gets touchy, they’d be digging their own grave by doing that. 

You come back from your daydreams after hearing him clear his throat. 

You notice you’ve been staring far too long, choosing to ignore the faint smirk on his lips. 

“Sorry... just thinking about the deal.” you lie and dip your head, busying yourself with cleaning the cups and hoping he won’t notice your burning cheeks. 

“Well, I'm off to meet John now. I'll make sure to give him your opinion too.” he says while standing from his chair, “Thanks for the drink.” he offers a small smile with a nod. 

“You’re welcome, Si... and I'm sure he won’t listen to me. His mind is set on the idea and that’s that. Not that I would ever question his decisions. I have too much respect for the man to do that. He must know something that we don’t.” you mention while grabbing his glass and placing it in the sink. 

“I can assure you that he values your opinion just as much as you do his. He'll think about it. Don't worry.” he says while gathering his stuff and placing your tip on the counter, a hefty envelope, so generous as always. 

“Simon! I can’t accept this! This is... too much! You do this every time!” you exclaim with a frown, nudging the envelope in his direction. 

“Take it. I insist. You can renovate your apartment. Last time I was there, it was a bloody mess!” he teases with a playful smirk.

“HEY!” you say in mock annoyance while throwing the rag in your hand at him.

“My apartment is fine as it is, thank you very much!” you retort, failing to hide the smile forming on your lips. 

You take the envelope hesitantly after so much persuasion on his part and wave him goodbye, feeling butterflies dance in your belly as thoughts of him linger in your mind.

You dip your head and go on with what you were doing, lost in your own world and not noticing the dark shadow lurking in the distance and standing in a corner, carefully observing the place, and most importantly... you. 

[corroded-hellfire]

Could I get a blurb or something from the AYW family when eddie and reader find out that she is infact pregnant and he's so happy and he can't wait to see her all pregnant with bigger breasts etc. And he loves to help her in anyway he can. And he's so excited about her belly when they do have sex. All the Fluffy stuff but a bit of smut to. Hehe. Thanks!

Eddie is a lovesick puppy all the time, but his pregnant wife? Oh boy. So thankful and happy to write this with my beloved @munson-blurbs 💚

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap to up), pregnant!reader, breeding kink or does this move to pregnancy kink? We all know this Eddie has breeding kink BAD

Words: 2.5k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Eddie’s been on cloud nine from the moment you even suspected you might be pregnant. Now with it confirmed, everyone knowing, and steps rolling along to get things ready for the baby, you’re pretty sure your husband physically can’t get any happier. You’re proved wrong the moment he notices your breasts getting a little larger, though. Then the very beginnings of your baby bump appeared, and Eddie’s hand didn’t leave your stomach for what felt like a week. 

Your husband has always been a gentleman, but he’s kicked it up a notch now that your second trimester has started. He’d always carry things for you, but now he makes the extra effort to go grocery shopping so you don’t have to reach for things on the high shelf or lift the full bags from the cart into the trunk of your car. And he isn’t the only one helping out.

The boys were, for the most part, good about doing their chores. Once in a while you’d have to get on one of them about picking their clothes up off the floor or cleaning up after themselves in the kitchen, but it was never anything major. But as twelve and nine-year-olds, they weren’t exactly known to go the extra mile, either. So, the day you first came home to them working as a team to move the laundry from the washer to the dryer, you almost thought you walked into the wrong house. You hadn’t intended to stand there and watch them as they did the task—they didn’t need a supervisor. But the pure shock kept you rooted in place as you watched Luke toss a dryer sheet in and Ryan reach up to press the correct buttons on the dryer’s control panel. 

“Eddie, the boys did laundry,” you had told him when he came home from work, your wide eyes amusing to the man. 

“I figured it was about time they learn,” he answered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Helps you out around the house, too.”

“That was your real motive,” you had said, narrowing your eyes at him. 

“So, sue me.” Eddie shrugged and stepped around you to get a bottle of water.

The men of the house have been at this for a few weeks now and it’s honestly nice to have some of your usual duties lifted from your shoulders. Are things done perfectly? No. But they weren’t when you did them, either. At least when Luke got Ryan’s clothes and Ryan got Luke’s this time, they could blame themselves instead of you. 

The boys have even been changing their own sheets and putting the clean ones on. Luke’s been so proud of himself that you don’t have the heart to tell him that he’s been putting the bottom sheet on inside out this entire time. 

The domestic bliss of it all fills you with a soothing warmth, like you’re being wrapped in the softest downy blanket. Sometimes you’re afraid this is all a dream and you’re going to wake up in your apartment back in college, late for some class before you have to go pick up the boys from school so you can babysit them. When that happens, you usually walk over to the large fake crystal bowl on the counter where you keep your keys and pull out your set. On your keychain there’s a small, laminated Shrinky Dink that says “Luke” that was given to you the first Mother’s Day that you were with Eddie. The first year they saw you as a mother figure more than a babysitter. 

You run the pad of your index finger along the rough plastic edge of the Shrinky Dink and the tiny little pricks of pain are another reminder that you’re not dreaming. 

Getting ready for bed that night, you tighten the belt of your lavender bath robe before grabbing a cloth to wash your face. This bathroom never used to seem as cold as it has to you these past few months. Pregnancy does weird things to your body. 

“Oh!” Eddie says as he steps into the bathroom. He snaps his fingers and spins around to head back into the bedroom. A moment later he comes back with a plastic drugstore bag in his hands. “I got this for you today. I know you said your gums are being more sensitive now, so I thought this might help.”

He offers you a plastic and cardboard package, a jade green toothbrush inside, and the words “Soft-Bristled Brush!” emphasized on the front. The hormones well up in you but you force them back down, refusing to cry over a toothbrush.

“Thank you, baby,” you say. “Now I can throw out that mean, old medium strength one.” 

Eddie chuckles and presses a kiss to your head as he passes by to get to the shower. 

As you scour your dresser drawers for pajamas, lacy material grazes your fingertips—maternity lingerie, courtesy of Jess, who swore Eddie would go absolutely feral over it. 

Her exact words were actually “he’ll cream his jeans,” but that was neither here nor there. 

Your eyes flit back to the bathroom where your husband is currently bathing. Your husband—the man you love and adore, who doted on you before you got pregnant and is the epitome of devotion now that you’re actually carrying his child. The alleviation of chores, the special toothbrush…maybe he deserves a little reward. 

As quickly as you can—which isn’t all that fast, considering your new center of gravity, you put on the babydoll slip, adjusting it so the slit down the middle showcases your bump. The matching set of panties almost feels like a waste, considering how swiftly Eddie will tear them off, but you step into them anyway and complete the look. 

There’s a clattering in the bathroom, jolting your already buzzing nerves. You know better than to ask what’s going on; over the years, you’ve found that many questions are best left unanswered. 

“Babe, have you seen my—holy fuckin’ shit.” Eddie’s eyes widen when he takes in the sight of you. The towel wrapped around his waist tents where his erection begins to burgeon. 

“Seen your what?” You bat your eyelashes, exaggerating your innocence, as you caress your bump. 

He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter.” His hands are drawn to your sides, thumbs brushing over the swell of your stomach. “What’s all this for?”

“Just wanted to thank you for being such an amazing husband, even when I’m tired or moody or—”

“Baby,” Eddie cuts in, “all I’ve done is get you a new toothbrush and delegate chores to the boys. I should be thanking you for having my baby…and looking so damn good doing it.”

With that, he gets on his knees, grabs your thighs until his fingertips sink into your plush skin, and kisses the bump. 

“You’re perfect.” 

He moves forward on his knees, gently guiding you backwards until the back of your thighs hit the soft cotton sheets of your mattress. Large hands follow your hips onto the bed and quickly move down your legs to slip your panties off.

“Eds?”

“Hmm?”

“I, um,” you pause, feeling insecurity creep up in you despite your arousal, “haven’t been able to shave as well as I used to…”

Eddie pays your words no mind, instead just uses his pointer and middle fingers to part your lips and lick a stripe up your center. 

“‘S not gonna stop me.” His voice is gravelly, deep, and it sends a pleasant shiver up your spine. 

He takes your clit between his lips, tongue gently flicking over the bud. Giving it a little suck, he drops his unoccupied hand to your thigh and squeezes. 

You can’t help the way your hips move, as though of their own accord, grinding your core against his face. Eddie notices it, too, pulling away briefly to tease you. 

“Needy little thing tonight, hm?” His smirk glistens with your arousal. 

You’re in no position to argue; you simply nod and thread your fingers through his curls in a silent plea for him to resume licking at you. 

Eddie takes the hint, his tongue eagerly finding your hole and fucking it wildly. 

“Eddie, shit, holy fucking shit!” You find your voice in time for your orgasm to crash over you, crying out your husband’s name as he brings you that beautiful release. 

When he stands up, panting, you can see just how hard he is. The towel must have slipped off while his face was buried between your legs, and he’s now stark naked in front of you. 

“Tried to look at you while I ate your pussy, but, uh…” his cheeks tinge red, “couldn’t quite see you over this.” He cradles your bump, pressing his erection into your thigh. The pre-cum that’s beaded at the tip sticks to your leg, a reminder of what you do to him.

You flop back on the mattress, breathing heavily with a lazy smile on your face. 

Eddie crawls up over your body, chuckling when he catches your euphoric expression. 

“Feel good, baby?” he asks.

“Mhmm,” you hum, eyes drifting shut.

Eddie parts the sheer panels of the baby doll top so your emerging bump is on full display, pressing kisses in the valley between your breasts and working downward. 

He stops when he reaches your stomach. “Wish I could just keep you pregnant. Fuck, you look amazing like this.”

“So do it,” you mumble lazily.

“Don’t tempt me,” Eddie says, looking up at you with another smirk. 

He pauses, delaying removing his hands from your belly but craving being inside you. 

“Ride me, baby?”

You giggle. “Gonna need some help.”

Eddie nods, standing up and kissing you with his hands on your cheeks. “Anything. Anything for you. Christ, you’re a goddess.”

He helps you on top, his hands on your hips and holding your bump. Without further hesitation, he lines himself up and you sink onto his cock, letting yourself be filled entirely. 

“F-Feels so good.”

Eddie grunts. “That’s because this pussy belongs to me. You belong to me.” 

You just moan in response, so he grips your hips tighter and growls, “say it.”

“I belong to you,” you whimper, tightening around him as he thrusts up into you. “I’ll do anything for you, Eddie.”

After a few minutes, a newly-familiar ache creeps into your chest. Though you try to hide your wince, Eddie is all-too aware of your every move.  

“What’s wrong?” He stops thrusting, grabbing your wrists and pulling your attention to him. 

You gently maneuver out of his grasp and cup your breasts. “They’re just really sore from the, um, bouncing.” This never happened before pregnancy, but their extra sensitivity has you feeling every twinge of discomfort. 

Eddie pouts, not from disappointment, but from the realization that you’re in some pain. 

“C’mere, sweetheart.”

He withdraws, earning a whimper from you before he gently guides you onto your back and places a pillow beneath your lower back. 

“I’ll take it a little slower, yeah?”

You nod, your warmth enveloping him once again. He thrusts languidly, holding back so he doesn’t hurt you, and his carefulness has you connecting your lips to his. 

“I love you,” you mumble into his mouth. “I love you so much, Eddie.”

“I love you, too.”

His words, his movements, and your earlier orgasm are a perfect combination. You come undone, clenching around his cock and digging your nails into his back. 

“There you go,” Eddie coos, kissing just below your ear. “Baby, can I go a little faster? Is that okay?”

He rarely begs you; normally, you’re the one pleading with him to let you come. 

“S’okay, Eds.” You smile and he returns it, bracing his elbows on either side of your head. 

He slams into you, burying himself to the hilt and tucking his head into the crook of your neck. 

“Fuck—feels s’good—gonna come.” The words barely leave his mouth before he’s spilling into you, filling you with his seed. His body against yours and his release coating your walls has you falling into a foggy haze—the closeness, the intimacy, the safety you feel with Eddie is stronger than anything you’ve ever felt before. It’s only grown fiercer since carrying his baby.

The moment he pulls out of you and starts to move from hovering over your body, you tug him down next to you. Eddie laughs as you practically wrap him up in a death grip as he bounces against the pillows. 

“Well, this is one way to cuddle,” he says. 

“Got overexcited,” you say as you loosen your grip on him.

He doesn’t go too far though, immediately moving so that you can tuck into his side. As you move to slide closer, there’s a sharp intake of breath and your right hand instinctively goes to hold your bump.

“Baby?” Eddie asks, sitting up in concern, careful not to jostle your body. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

You shake your head as you scoot closer to him again. The sharp jab of pain vanished as quickly as it was sprung on you. A subtle aftershock rolls through you, but it’s barely even detectable.

“Just some mild contractions. Doctor said they can happen after sex sometimes. They’re not, like, baby contractions,” you explain. 

Eddie visibly relaxes, shoulders dropping, and lays back against the pillows with you. “So, my excellent fucking skills didn’t send you into super early labor?”

A snort of laughter bursts out of you as you lay your head down on Eddie’s warm, solid chest.

“Sorry, Eds. Baby’s gotta stay put till she’s fully cooked.”

Your husband gives you a fake groan but smiles the whole time, kissing you tenderly. 

“All right,” he says. “But I heard from someone who shall not be named—”

“Steve?”

“Who shall not be named, that sex can help induce labor. In case you need some assistance in a few months.”

You smirk. “Let me know if anyone’s offering. There’s that cute guy at the grocery store—”

Eddie tackles you, taking care not to hurt the bump, pressing sloppy, silly kisses to your cheek and neck. You squeal with laughter and try to push him off of you.

“I’m kidding! I’m kidding!”

Eddie pulls back and smiles down at you. “You better be. Because this,” he gestures to your lingerie-clad pregnant body, “is mine and only mine.”

“Well, this,” you say, gesturing to your own body, “has to pee.”

Eddie pouts as you slide off the bed, eyes not leaving your frame for a moment.

“But we were gonna cuddle,” he whines.

You walk into the bathroom as you shrug your shoulders.

“Take it up with your daughter,” you say before closing the door.

With a dramatic sigh, Eddie rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. His thoughts linger on your last sentence and the smile that was already on his face grows until it becomes a beaming grin.

“Holy shit,” he whispers to himself. “I’m going to have a daughter.”

[loupetlapinn]

𝟐:𝟑𝟕 𝐚𝐦

t/w: intox, dubcon, noncon, coercion, forced breeding if you squint kinda maybe idk, unprotected sex. a/n: MDNI. basically a continuation of my drunk post lmao. this is Also unbetad. also i may be delirious. felt cute might delete later. synopsis: just a . . . casual drink with cheol pt 2. w/c: don't ask. feel free to block me.

His breath on your neck has you squirming in place, the humidity spreading over the expanse of exposed skin.

“It’s like this is what you wanted all along,” his condescending voice echoing in your ear. 

Your reply nothing but a whimper as his fingers slip over slick folds, teasing.

“You poor thing.”

Every syllable sliding off his tongue seeps their way into your ears, numbing your senses further. You offer a small whimper in your current state but it does nothing but encourage his attentions. Firm hands soothing over bare skin, tracing over curves and slopes as your chest rises and falls.

“That's it, baby,” he purrs, bulbous head of his cock teasing your quivering entrance. “Taking me so nicely.”

Your breath stuttering, eyes rolling back as your clumsy limbs arrange themselves. Desperately grasping at the closest pillows, knuckles blanching with the stretch of every inch sinking into your barely prepped heat. 

“So fucking wet,” he muses, the pad of his thumb circling your hypersensitive clit as you jump at the sensation. “I’ve barely touched you . . . That’s all it takes? A few drinks and you’re drenched and spreading your legs so easily for me?”

“Cheol . . .” mumbled words and muffled noises follow, slurred “mphm’s” and short little gasps following as your eyes roll back. Repeating his name until you’re able to do so with a hint of coherence rather than a jumble of noises strewn together. “Cheol . . . I-I’m not—” you hiccup your words, trying to keep your train of thought. Which was practically impossible from the warmth of alcohol thrumming through your veins and the incessant throb of Seungcheol’s cock as he bullies his way further inside of your fluttering cunt.

“Not what?” he coos. If you had any presence of mind, you might’ve noticed the condescending tone that laces his every word. The smug grin that pulls lazily at the corners of plush lips, dark gaze hooded and hungry as he takes in every minuscule reaction you have to offer through your thick haze. “Big girl words, c’mon.”

He can’t help but snicker as your mouth opens but nothing intelligible follows.

“You know how long I’ve been thinking of this?” he grunts with a rough snap of his hips slapping against the flushed skin of your thighs, earning himself yet another pitched mewl from your lips. “This pretty little cunt wrapped around me— Fuck. Gonna cry for me this time, mhm? Or will I have to try a little harder?”

“Seungcheol ‘m not . . .” you fist at his shirt, eyes screwed shut as you can’t handle the way the room spins as you squirm beneath his broad frame, “. . . n-not— can’t . . .please, Cheol, please.”

“Not what, baby, mhm? Can’t what?” he mocks, eyes transfixed on the swell of your breasts as they jostle with every move, “It seems like you can. Look at you, greedy, taking my cock like this.”

“H-hurts, Cheol, it hurts.” Your hand haphazardly slapping around to find his hips, trying to push at him. If anything, it only encourages his ruthless pace.

“Hurts?” A thick brow arches, a firm hand snatching your jaw as he peers through dark lashes, scrutinizing you. “You want it to hurt?”

Glassy eyes that peer back at him only make his dick twitch in your vice like grip. Watching as you attempt to shake your head as his grasp is nearly bruising, squishing your cheeks to pout your moistened and bruised lips. Lips he can’t help but smash his own against, ignoring your noises of disapproval as his tongue intrudes past the seam of those lips of yours. His hips as relentless as his mouth as he drills you into the bed. A considerably violent slam eliciting a rather loud cry from you that he hungrily swallows down between your sloppy lip lock.

He only pulls away to mouth his way along your jawline, dipping lower and lower with every lave of his tongue and graze of his teeth. A hand coming palm over your breasts, squeezing, guiding a pert mound into his mouth to suction lewdly around it. The filthy noise almost rivals the debauched squelch of where your bodies fused together.

Your body felt like a live wire. Everything was happening too quickly all at once. Even you couldn’t believe the noises that only continued to fall from your lips.

“Fuck . . .” A finger of his once again snakes down between the both of you, finding your sensitive clit, “Want you to cum on my cock, I know you can.”

The noises you make as he pushes you closer to climax only drags him along with you. Your writhing beneath him pouring fuel on the fire. “Don’t fight it, baby. You’re squeezing so tight, I know you want it.”

“Cheol— Cheol, please!”

He’s enraptured with the way your body trembles and quakes beneath him as your orgasm crashes over you. Choking out a few grunts at the way you seize around him so drastically.

“Fuck, you’re fucking soaked,” he hisses, fucking you through your release without remorse. “Gonna make a mess of this cunt.”

It was almost as if he plows forward with renewed energy, determined to follow through on his word.

“W-wait . . . Wait, Cheol, pull out. I’m not on birth control. Please.” There they were, those pretty tears, Seungcheol knew you had it in you. Crystalline as they begin to trickle down blotchy cheeks. “Pull out! Cheol, please, I can’t . . . I can’t!”

“You can,” he insists, “but, you are.” Between your tears, your pleas and the cry of his name as it sounds from your mouth. There isn’t an inkling of a chance Seungcheol was pulling out, definitely not now. “I’ll show you.”

His release spills past your entrance with the sheer amount that floods your abused walls, quivering weakly around him as he catches his breath above you. Rocking his hips gingerly into as he gives himself time to come down, feeling him gradually soften before he’s slowly dragging his length from your core.

“See,” his fingers root in your hair, guiding your face to look downwards. Your eyes following his blearily as his cum leaks from your puffy cunt.

“You can after all.”

[starlit-typewriter]

Genshin SAGAU, Creator of Teyvat, but not Humanity Part 4

So fun fact, I got Lyney on 12 pity, with no guaranteed after posting that previous section, so uh. He doesn’t need to be jealous of his siblings anymore I guess.

Warning for Spoilers up to 4.6

Masterlist | Prev Part

~~~

Cold

It was very cold,

Freezing actually, numbingly cold and frigid. The icy hands of hypothermia creeping up your legs to encase your body into an icy coffi-

Ok, well maybe that’s a step too far.

But it’s cold.

Why is it cold?

Oh it’s snowing that’s why.

You look down at your feet.

Yep, there’s snow.

You wiggle your toes, and see the snow on top if them shift. 

You giggle to yourself at the amusing sight. You look up to see if there’s anyone else.

It’s empty, just a vast expanse of snow and wind.

Wait, no it’s not. There’s a building right over there, it’s massive, tall and imposing with gigantic walls and windows.

Oh there’s a person in one of those windows, hopefully you’re not trespassing.

You can’t really make out who it is, their black and white figure is blurred by the heavy snow and wind, but you try waving to them anyway.

If there’s so much snow and wind shouldn’t you be colder than this?

You blink,

“- gnoring me, I swear,”

You turn your head, and your friend is there.

“Hellooo, why do you keep spacing out?” she complains, taking a sip of her drink.

The two of you are at a cafe. 

She proposed that the two of you meet up now that the weather is nice and take a walk together and get some exercise. Somehow that exercise ended with the two of you sitting in a heavily air conditioned cafe.

You blink, weren’t you just cold.

Oh right, you look over to your side where the AC is blasting on full volume.

“Why don’t we move to different seats,” you offer, “The AC is giving me a headache.”

~~~

“Another successful day of adventuring completed!” Paimon cheered, spinning around as the Traveler handed in the receipts for all their completed commissions. 

The Traveler smiled at her enthusiasm as they accepted their reward from Katheryn, before heading over to where Paimon was floating.

“Hungry for dinner?” They asked, knowing the answer already.

“Of course!” Paimon exclaimed, “As if that’s even a question.” She paused, bobbing slightly as she stared the Traveler down. 

“Hmm, Paimon can’t help but feel you’re up to something, but she can’t figure out what.”

The Traveler takes their time, hemming and hawing as they stroll down the streets of Fountaine with Paimon floating closely behind, riling her up with frustration.

“Grrr, c’mon just tell Paimon, or I’m gonna burst,”

The Traveler laughed at their companion’s frustrated face, before turning to face them with a cheeky smile on their face. “Well, I’ve got a bit more energy than usual, so why don’t you choose a restaurant for us to visit,” they proposed cheekily.

Paimon’s eyes opened wide with anticipation, “really!” She exclaimed, shooting up with anticipation, “you better not be messing with Paimon,” she threatened, eyes sparking.

“Nope,” the Traveler drawled, as they made their way over to the nearby waypoint. They placed their hand on it meaningfully, and extended the other to Paimon. “Where are we going tonight?”

Paimon squealed with happiness, shooting into the Traveler’s arms. “ Komore Teahouse please,” she begged, “We haven’t had hotpot in so long,”

“As you wish,” and in a burst of energy the two disappeared from the streets of Fountaine.

The smell of sweet Sakura blossoms greeted Paimon's nose as the two appeared in Inazuma. 

Thankfully there weren’t too many gawking standerbys, many of them having gotten used to the Traveler's unique ability of traveling through waypoints.

She quickly darted out from their arms and turned to check on them. While it may look effortless, she knew that teleporting took a lot of energy out of the Traveler, and as their traveling companion it’s her responsibility to make sure that they don’t overwork themselves. 

Their breathing was fine, but their head rested on the waypoint, eyes closed. Paimon gave them a moment to collect themselves, hovering anxiously. Within a few seconds their eyelids opened, sending Paimon a reassuring smile.

“Are you sure you’re ok?” Paimon asked, feelings slightly guilty at how enthusiastic she was at coming to visit Inazuma, even though she knew how much energy it would take.

“Of course, I did offer after all,” the Traveler replied easily.

The two made their way to Komore teahouse, Paimon made sure to float a bit slower than usual, just in case the Traveler was still tired.

She’s sure they noticed, since they bumped her playfully before whispering “race you,” into her ear and darted off. 

“HEY NO FAIR,”

The two adventurers raced each other down the streets of Inazuma before skidding to a stop outside Komore Teahouse, the Traveler slapping their hand on the sign triumphantly as Paimon panted behind them.

“No, huff huff, fair,” Paimon complained, pointing their finger at the Traveler accusatorially. 

Before the Traveler could gloat about their victory, a familiar voice interrupted the duo.

“Woah woah what happened here,”

“Thoma!” Paimon exclaimed, perking back up. 

The Traveler exchanged warm greetings with the Kamisato housekeeper, as the three headed into the teahouse to catch up.

“-lace flooded and then!” Paimon paused mid story, mouth hanging open.

“And then what?” Thoma asked eagerly engrossed in the story.

The expectant silence was interrupted by a loud stomach gurgle.

There was a moment before all three of them burst into laughter.

“I think Paimon got so engrossed in story telling that we forgot to order food,” the Traveler commented between giggles.

“Hey!”

Thoma took the initiative to stand up and order food for the group. The Traveler tried to get up as well, but was ushered back into their seat. 

“C’mon, it’s already bad enough manners that I made guests wait this long without food, at least let me order it for you,” Thoma pleaded playfully, 

 “I think we’re more friends than guests at this point, ” Paimon chimed in, floating up from her seat.

“You know that’s not what I mean. C’mon, you guys save me some face here.”

After some light heckling and teasing, Thoma darted off to grab some dinner for them.

The Traveler leaned forward in their seat, face still a little pale. 

Paimon floated beside them anxiously. “Are you feeling ok?” She asked quietly, the Traveler doesn’t usually take this long to recover from a teleport trip.

The Traveler hummed lightly in agreement, now fully leaning on the table, “just a bit drowsy.”

Paimon bit her lip nervously, she floated around the Traveler’s head anxiously.

It seemed as if her hovering was annoying them since they soon tilted their head up to gaze at her with slight annoyance. “I’m okay, Paimon, honest.”

Paimon didn’t believe them.

“Are you sure, because -”

“I’m fine,” they cut her off, “I’m more worried about you.”

Paimon blinked, “Me?”

“Do you think I haven’t noticed how much hovering and how anxious you’ve been? I just wanted to- ” they cut themselves off in frustration.

Paimon sagged a little, she didn’t like making the Traveler worry about them.

The Traveler sighed, “If this is about the Kn-”

“No,” Paimon interrupted, “It’s not.”

A disbelieving face was her only answer.

She bit her lip. Maybe she wasn’t as good of an actor as she thought, or it was just the Traveler being able to see through her.

She didn't really want to explain, but considering that they were willing to push themselves in order to try to cheer her up, well. Paimon felt guilty for keeping it from them.

“It’s just not fair!” She burst out, a scowl painting itself on her normally cheerful face. 

“Her being blessed you mean?” The Traveler confirmed, sitting up properly to face Paimon.

“I don’t trust her,” Paimon admitted, her hands twisting together. “She’s so scary and we never know what she’s going to do next, or who she’s going to hurt. Not to mention she’s Fatui Harbinger!”

“So are Childe and the Wanderer,” 

“That’s different and you know it! Wanderer’s working for Nahida now and Childe might be a Harbinger but he won’t hurt us, you can beat him up any day!”

The Traveler sighed, “this is because I lost isn’t it.”

“That’s -” Paimon couldn’t refute that.

The two fell into a bit of an uneasy silence. 

“I’m not the strongest person in Teyvat Paimon. I never have been,” they explained gently.

“I know,” Paimon mumbled, “I just, don’t like the fact that she’s now going to get stronger because of us.”

“You don’t know that- ”

“Yes I do!” She shot back, “So many people we meet just get inexplicably stronger and they all think it’s thanks to us but we haven’t done anything and it’s been fine so far because they’ve all been our friends and have been really nice to us but-”

She gets cut off when the Traveler pulls her into a hug. 

“I’m sorry,” they apologized, “I didn’t know you’ve been struggling with this.”

Paimon relaxed in their hold, “It never really bothered me until now,”

“Me neither,” they admitted, leaning into their hug more.

“Food her-” Thoma paused in the doorway at the sight of the two hugging. “Uh, did I barge in at a bad moment, because I can- ”

“It’s fine,” Paimon exclaimed, flying out of the hug. “We were just uh-”

She looked over to the Traveler for an excuse, but they just shook their head and shrugged.

“Practicing what we’d do if there was an earthquake,” she finished lamely.

Thoma blinked at that admittedly pretty bad excuse, but thankfully knew not to push.

“Alrighty then, well who’s ready for- ”

“HOTPOT,” Paimon’s eyes widened to the size of Dinner plates as the smell of the tray in Thoma’s hands finally reached her nose.

The rest of the meal proceeded merrily as Paimon got to fill her stomach, Thoma got caught up with all their recent adventures, and the Traveler got to bask in good company.

They were pretty quiet, as is the norm, since they prefer to let Paimons speak for them.

Until, well.

“Thoma, what did it feel like when you got blessed.”

The other two fall into silence at the Traveler’s question. Thoma swiveled his head to see the Traveler staring at him with an uncharacteristically serious look. 

Their golden eyes bored into his face, it was easy to forget when they were chatting over a meal or talking walks together, but the Traveler was famous for more than just their adventures. 

Despite their young appearance, they’d always held themselves with an innate grace and authority Thoma had rarely ever seen. A kind of aura that made you wonder whether they were secretly an ancient powerful Yokai in disguise. 

“Uh, well,” Thoma stammered.Even though he could confidently say they were friends, and that they would never lay a hand on him, the fact that the Traveler was so much more powerful than him was hard to ignore at this very moment. “Haven’t you gone through it yourself?”

The Traveler shakes their head, “I don’t remember being blessed,” they responded shortly.

“Well,” Thome scratched his head, mulling over his words, “I can’t really compare it to getting a vision-” he trailed off, deep in thought.

He looked around before his gaze settled on their empty hotpot bowl. 

“I think I'd compare it to drinking a warm bowl of soup on a freezing cold day.” 

The Traveler quirks a brow, surprised.

“I thought it’d be more dramatic than that,” Paimon added, looking slightly disheartened as well.

“Sorry,” Thoma scratched his head, slightly embarrassed. “That’s just the best way I could think of to describe it.” 

He paused, before angling himself towards the pair to better explain his train of thought, “You know there are some days where it all feels a little overwhelming and exhausting,”

The two nodded in response.

“Think of it like that, its been a super long day, the weather’s a mess, you’re cold and tired and you just want to crawl to bed.” he gestured, trying to convey what a busy day would look like. 

“Then you go inside, and there’s this warm bowl of soup waiting just for you, it’s the perfect temperature so you don’t don’t need to worry about burning you mouth and it just warms you from the inside out and give you more energy to keep going.”

By the end of his story the two were nodding in unison. 

“Does that make sense to you,” he finishes weakly.

“Better,” the Traveler commented, looking over at Paimon who was nodding enthusiastically. 

“Sorry, it’s just that no one’s ever really asked me about that before.” He laughs sheepishly. Internally grateful that the Traveler’s gaze had directed itself elsewhere.

“Really?” Paimon exclaimed, “I’d have thought um-” she trailed off awkwardly.

Thoma knew where they were going, “Lord and Lady Kamisato never mentioned such things to me, they know about my blessing of course, but they never tried to pry into the specifics.”

“Ahh, gotcha,” 

The table lapses into an awkward silence.

“Is there a particular reason why?” Thoma asks eventually.

The two look at each other for a bit before turning back to him.

“Just a bit of investigating,” the Traveler responds vaguely. “It just seems weird to us that this has been happening for years now and now one is really sure why.”

“Well, most of us assumed that you were the one doing the blessing,” he responded, stacking some of the empty plates together. 

“WHAT!” Paimon exclaimed, flying backwards in shock.

“You didn’t know?” Thoma looked surprised.

The Traveler shook their head alongside Paimon’s vehement denial.

“Oh, well that’s a bit awkward,” he laughs, “But don’t worry, we soon realized that you had no control over it,”

“Good,” Paimon nodded, “The last thing we need is people thinking we’re intentionally withholding a blessing from them, or worse people trying to get close to us for the blessing.” She shuddered.

The Traveler nodded in agreement, yawning slightly.

Thoma, perceptive as always, offered to get them a room at the Kamisato estate, only to be met with polite refusal.

“Thanks for the offer Thoma, but we’re probably gonna head out first thing tomorrow morning,” Paimon said, “Plus it’s not like we’re camping outside with our teapot and all,”

“That’s true,” Thoma noted, “then pass on my regards to you Teapot butler for me.”

“Will do, and pass on ours to Ayaka and Ayato.” The Traveler responded kindly.

~~~ 

Later that night, Paimon and the Traveler were getting ready to sleep.

“Ooof, Paimon is stuffed,” she stretched, floating down towards the bed.

“Satisfying meal?” the Traveler commented wryly, tucking their legs under their chin from where they were seated on their bed.

“Mmhmm,” Paimon agreed, curling up under the blankets. 

“Thank you,” she said, after a short pause.

She didn’t need to elaborate, the two had traveled together for far too long for that. Despite how it may look to outsiders, and how the Traveler might joke about her being emergency food, she knew how much the Traveler treasured their relationship and vice versa.

She remembered the darker days at the beginning of their partnership, when the Traveler would wake up in the middle of the night screaming for their sibling, or days when they could barely talk, overstimulated by the world around them. Whilst Paimon was no expert doctor, she knew how to bring the traveler out of their shell and what they were comfortable with.

She knew that the Traveler still had a difficult time meeting new people, and that even though that had a near total mastery of Teyvat’s language, its not one that they enjoyed using.

There were still bad days of course, and bad nights, but Paimon knew how to deal with them better now.

A soft snore interrupted her train of thought.

She looked over to see the Traveler comfortably asleep.

Yeah, things are good the way they are.

She curled up in her own blankets and let darkness overtake her.

~~~

Poke,

Poke, Poke

A soft giggle.

Paimon scrunched her nose and turned to her other side to avoid the poking, to no avail.

The soft pokes to her squishy cheeks continued.

Paimon became fed up before long and shot out of bed, ready to yell at the Traveler for waking her up like that, only to be faced with, not the Traveler.

A stranger stood in front of her with a confused look on their face.

“You weren’t supposed to wake up,” they muttered in confusion.

Paimon stared at them for a brief second before bursting into a scream.

~~~

Masterlist | Prev Part

~~~

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[beenbaanbuun]

the show w/ choi jongho

thinking about meeting jongho at a hardcore gig. you don’t really know the band that’s playing, but you’ve heard of them and after finding yourself alone and bored on a random tuesday night, you figure you might as well!

so you take a trip down to your local alternative music club, an oversized band t-shirt handing loosely over the tiny skirt you decided to wear. you can barely see the hem of it before your fishnet-covered thighs are exposed. they bulge over the top of your thigh highs, looking just as soft as squishy as you wanted them to. on your feet rest a pair of old skool vans, beat up and a little gross after years of abuse in mosh pits and venues so disgusting that the floor always seems to be covered by a thick layer of grunge. they’re your favourite pair of shoes, the memories they hold being worth more than their prettiness.

the venue hits you in the face with the scent of stale beer and sweat; it’s gross but you can’t help but smile as you head towards the bar. theres just something so familiar about the foul smell.

“excuse me,” you say to the group of men huddling around the counter, all with full cups of beer in their grasp. they’re too engrossed in conversation to even notice you as you stand there tapping your foot, and you can’t help but let out an agitated sigh, “or just don’t move, i guess; that works too.”

you take a step forward, about to physically push your way through them. the beer that is guaranteed to be spilled down your top is just residual damage. it’s bound to happen anyway since no one can keep their drinks in their hands once a band steps on stage. you brace yourself for the angry grunts you’re about to get and then—

a hand cups your shoulder, holding you back. it’s warm, and as you look down at it, surprisingly well manicured. huh… you didn’t know men who listened to hardcore knew how to take care of themselves to that extent. you follow his arm up, slightly disappointed at the way his beige crew neck covers his arms—with the way his hand is gripping you, you can tell he’s got strength. your gaze shifts past his neck, taking note of the cute little freckle, before moving up to his face.

holy hell.

your lips part a little and you take in a shuddery breath. he’s beautiful.

his skin glows like honey in the sunlight, looking flawless even in the dim lighting of the club. the muscles in his jaw ripple beneath his skin as he clenches it; you swallow thickly. “‘scuse us, gents,” he says, his perfect lips moving in a way that has you unable to stop staring at them. and his voice? god, you want to obey every word that he says in that syrupy cadence.

you don’t even notice when the men part, only moving forward when the handsome stranger puts pressure on your shoulder to guide you through the crowd. you let him, happy to go wherever he takes you as long as his warm hand never leaves your shoulder.

he only stops when the two of you meet the bar and his gaze shifts down to meet yours. you feel your insides melt at the sight of his black irises that seem to glitter as if they hold the universe within them. you suck in a sharp breath though your nose and— holy fuck, is it him that smells that good? the scent of spices fills your head and you feel your knees go weak. your hand finds the bar, ignoring the stickiness in favour of keeping yourself upright.

“what are you drinking?” he asks in that smooth voice. the question almost doesn’t register, your brain too invested in him to even think about anything else. it takes a moment or two for you to realise that oh! he’s taking to you? and a moment or two more for you to pull yourself together enough to give a coherent answer.

“uh, beer?” you say, trying to come off as cool. he smiles and it’s the prettiest thing you think you’ve ever seen.

“you don’t sound too sure about that,” there’s a hint of amusement in his voice and it makes you wonder what his laugh sounds like. probably as beautiful as the rest of him. “i wouldn’t so sure be either; beer is gross. that’s why i’ll be having a double vodka cran… want one?”

you nod silently and his smile grows until you can see his gums. it’s adorable, and it makes your heart beat at an almost concerning pace. is it too early to break out the L word? probably, you tell yourself.

“a vodka cran it is, pretty girl,” he says, and you die a little inside. pretty girl? it’s like he’s trying to send your heart into overdrive, “i’ll have it in your hands in no time. i’m great at flagging down bar staff.” he wiggles his eyebrows as if his self proclaimed sufficiency at bars is something for you to be impressed by. you find yourself giggling, which only makes his face light up more. you swear he mumbles a quick ‘cute’ under his breath, but perhaps that’s just your delusions speaking.

he’s right, though. he does have your drink in your hand in a matter of minutes. he passes it to you with a wink and a click of the tongue before leaning over to grab two straws from the bar. he slips one into his own drink before passing you the other. you take it and slide it into your cup.

“how much was it?” you ask before descending on your straw. even as you take a sip, you never once look away from him. you watch his adams apple bob when you wrap your lips around the paper and suck; you think nothing of it.

“for you? free,” he slips his own straw in his mouth, gulping down a few mouthfuls before pulling a face at the taste. you have to agree, the vodka they use has always been pretty foul; no amount of watered down mixer can mask the taste of the cheap spirit.

you tug the straw away; the strangers eyes flick down to see the lipstick stain left on the paper. he finds himself sending a mental thank you to whoever decided to play the pre-show playlist at an unnecessary volume; at least it hides the involuntary groan he lets out at the sight.

“and for you?” you ask as you swirl your cup in your hand in the hopes of mixing it a little better, “how much was my drink?”

he goes back in for another sip, shrugging as he grins around the straw. it’s soon wiped away by the taste of the beverage, you laugh as you watch a shiver go down his spine. he pulls away and coughs.

“a gentleman never talks about money,” he says with a strained voice, “but just know it was fucking overpriced for how it tastes. does it always taste like this?”

you nod, a pained smile taking over your expression.

“unfortunately so,” you take another sip, only to find out that your ‘mixing’ had done nothing; it still tastes like shit. you purse your lips as you pull away, tensing to stop your own body from shivering. it doesn’t work; the man still lets out a chuckle as he watches you shudder. “what do you usually get?”

a sheepish look takes over his face.

“beer-”

“beer?!” you scoff, leaning forward to hit his arm gently with your fist. it can’t have hurt him, but he pulls a faux pained expression anyway, rubbing over the flesh with his other hand. it brings a smile onto your face to see him play into your antics. “you told me you didn’t like beer!”

he shrugs.

“i didn’t want you to think i’d judge you for drinking something ‘girly’,” he warps his voice and rolls his eyes as he mentions the gendered drinks you hold in your hands, clearly expressing his dismissal of the concept. “but now i’ve tasted it, maybe i am judging you. it really does taste like shit.”

“i know,” you agree.

you fall into a comfortable silence, the both of you slowly getting your drinks down you as the world seems to carry on around you. the bar bustles behind you, but you ignore it in favour of watching the man in front of you. his expressions as he rips the straw free and tips the last bit of his drink down his throat has you giggling. the way he glares at the man who bumps into you has you swooning. how he bops his head in time to the music has you falling deeper and deeper into this pit you’d found yourself in. it’s too soon for the L-word—you don’t even know his name yet—but you’re almost positive that this is how it’s supposed to feel.

you finish up your drink, wincing as the vodka burns your throat on the way down. your lips pull away from the straw and almost immediately, a warm hand covers yours. your stranger pulls the empty cup from your hand and puts it on the ledge to be taken away later. you smile, grateful for the tiny act of service that realistically shouldn’t be making your heart ache to the level it is doing. you don’t even know the man…

“what’s your name?” the sudden question startles him; clearly he wasn’t expecting the lull in conversation to be broken so quickly. he soon recovers, though, smirking at you as if your simple question was akin to you flirting with him.

“choi jongho,” he hums, “what’s yours?”

you tell him. he smiles in response, “pretty name for a pretty girl…” heat burns under your skin; you hope the poor lighting is enough to hide the way your cheeks darken.

“thanks,” you purr, “yours isn’t so bad either.”

he huffs out a breath of laughter through his nose before opening his mouth to say something else. it’s just his luck that the moment he does, the lights dim even further and a loud drumbeat kicks in from the stage.

“good fucking evening! we are—”

the microphone peaks, making you wince at the screech that echos through the venue. jongho’s eyes scrunch shut as he tries to block out the sound, but it’s too abrasive to ignore. he grabs your hand and leans in close.

“i have a feeling this is going to fucking suck,” he yells over the guitar that’s begun to warble tunelessly through the club. you nod wordlessly against him, too distracted by the sudden proximity to actually speak. “i know a pretty cool cafe near-by. it’s open late and they serve really good coffee… do you maybe want to get out of here before we lose our hearing and out will to live?”

again, you nod.

“good,” he leans in to press a warm kiss to your cheek. your heart does a fucking backflip in your rib cage. “it’s a date…”

[neoplatinum]

can't remember to forget you - shakira | son chaeyoung

summary: is this love behind closed doors enough

pairing: guitarist!chaeyoung x fem!reader

themes: highschool au, weed, cigarettes, angst, fluff, music festival, rest of twice!, minor 2yeon, jooyeon and o.de from xdinary heroes

wc: 4.0k

a/n: FOR MY POOKIE WOOKIE CHAE'S POOKUMS (@nr1chaedickrider)

“do you know why she always carries that guitar?” momo’s watching chaeyoung walk across the field. that familiar brown guitar case strapped to the back of the girl’s back. like an attachment to her body. quick paces as she crosses the lawn with fishnets and platform boots on, layers of necklaces bouncing along in time with her steps. 

that signature dark lipstick. 

damn, she does look good. 

you look away from her, trying your best to concentrate since the start of lunch.

“she told me it’s her soulmate.” sana says back, digging into her jacket for a sweet candy, continuing to watch as chaeyoung crosses the field towards the other end of the school. popping a small chocolate in her mouth. “don’t know what that means.”

then sana looks down at you. 

“hey you’re friends with her right?”

you’ve been gripping your homework since momo spoke of her name. taking everything in you to stay still and not watch as your not-girlfriend walks past where you sat. and she knows exactly where you sit everyday for lunch, she knows this exact route like the back of her hand. but still she chooses to walk past it, she used to stop and wave to you discreetly before leaving. instead she’s plugged into her headphones and walking right into the building. 

“yeah, chaeyoung.” you just respond, trying to read the biology homework in front of you. terms turning into characters when you try to re-read the same question. but you can’t focus when your not-girlfriend has been ignoring you lately.

“right, that’s her name!” momo exclaims. then sana and her are back to bickering like siblings, all the while you’re trying to read this question again.

the cell cycle?

sana and momo, god knows why, have managed to flip themselves onto the grass and have their hand in each other’s hair pulling at it. legs and arms all over the place like they’re stuck to each other. you watch them briefly, trying to scratch each other’s faces. without missing a beat you turn back to your paper.

trying to refocus on the homework. anaphase…anaphase?

writing a few more lines across the page and munching on momo’s apple slices. you find yourself thinking about that stupid fight a week ago. you visited chaeyoung in her room, strumming her black guitar in her living room. weed filling the air as she tried different chords for her latest piece. one that she was discreet about.

you had visited her after she called you asking for a smoke sesh. and who are you to deny yourself the wonders of that green bud. 

more than anything, you love the haziness of watching her play her guitar. especially when she plays that electric one she keeps tucked away in her closet. the shine of that black and white electric over the body and her tattooed arms expertly bending notes. dark hair falling over her face, while she closes her eyes and just lets her hands play freely. 

hand flowing along the neck of the guitar, landing fingers in different, other hand holding a lit joint between her fingers. the smoke rising to the air. you feel your eyelids heavier as you lean backwards in the loveseat. 

watching the way the body is laid on her thigh, adjusting her playing every couple of seconds. sometimes playing the metal bar for some vibrato, the sounds ringing bending the sound through your ears. she knows how it sounds when she plays it, looking at you with a smirk as you take another hit. 

her eyes are low too, she always felt like her musicality shines when she’s not in her head. letting the playing speak for herself. coupled with the blue LED in her room, you think she’s gorgeous. a sight reserved for yourself. exactly why you are stuck here nearly every night, out of your own will of course. 

admiring the art that is son chaeyoung. even more of a treat you can listen to the art she produces. 

--

“you smoke?” you stuff your hand into your pocket, looking up suddenly. seeing chaeyoung hiding out behind the back of the school. after ditching class you were looking to just relax away from school, rounding out the back of the school. trying to jump the gate out back. and here stood in front of you was son chaeyoung. the last girl you would want to talk to her.

she keeps to herself in class, usually doodling or plugged into her earbuds. never speaking up, but you didn’t judge. here she is behind the school, flicking the ash off the end of her cig, earbuds in and a lock necklace dangling as she continues to stare at you. crouched down and phone in hand. her guitar case propped against the brick wall. 

she stares expectantly.

you don’t even know what to say, knowing her for barely a year and never speaking more than two words. she takes another puff, pushing her lips into a circle before aiming the smoke right into your face. 

immediately you step backwards, eyes stinging a bit from the cloud. the grittiness hitting your eyes, making you rub them and then you’re coughing a bit. the smoke hitting the back of your throat. chaeyoung laughs a little, staring up at you. you finally look at her again after wiping your eyes. 

“want to try?” she says pushing herself up, holding the cigarette out a bit. you stare at the lit bud, her painted nails, all black. and the way her hand is covered in silver rings. each one more intricate than the last. you nod lightly. looking back up at her.

her eyes are dazzling too, little browns under the sunlight. you completely forget what you said yes to. she brushes her hand through her hair, pushing it back. and then she pulls you towards her, hand around your neck, pulling you in like a magnet. other hand reaching towards herself, taking a breath in of the smoke. your eyes in a trance as the lit bud lights with orange and reds. then she takes it away.

her hand on your neck, snaking around to your chin, thumb pressed on your chin. until you drop your jaw. letting her move you like a puppeteer. eyes staring at your lips, blowing the smoke right into your mouth. letting that dark smell fill your mouth once more. the airiness of her breath makes your hair stand. 

woah.

then she pushes her thumb up, closing your breath once more.

“breathe it out.”

you let it flow out of you, that putrid smell making you scrunch your nose. she watches you amusingly, like a newborn deer taking its first steps. you barely know what you’re doing, it’s kind of cute.

then she returns that hand back to your neck, dragging you in for a kiss. one that makes your body freeze all over. your senses are all failing when all you can feel is her tender lips on your own. a hand pulling you in closely, and the smell of that awful cigarette between you two. she lets go of you, amusement still filling her face. 

you step back. she throws the case right over her shoulder and walks away from you, rounding the corner of the wall. you barely catch the sight of her guitar case when your body returns back to you. a curiosity building within you.

--

you’re trying your best to listen in, an ear pressed against the door. she’s always in this music room, room 202. every single lunch she’s here, using the school amp to play her music. you know this because you’re the only one she’s told you about this spot. made you swear to secrecy, if anyone else were to find out that she played here, it would ruin her charm as she says. 

like an obedient dog, you agreed. she doesn’t let you inside though, she never does. feeling so dumb for waiting outside like a kicked puppy, you’re ready to leave when you hear her singing. 

since when was she able to sing? 

a soft voice pulling at your heart, how you long to hear her voice again. standing outside with your hands stuffed into your pockets. listening to the girl in your heart vocalize through the confined walls.

you walk away from the room, tucking a cigarette between your lips as you walk outside.

--

some days are better than others, good days are when you can visit chaeyoung in her garage. watching her slide her hands across her favorite guitar. admiring the artwork draping the walls, like a cavern of her mind. a constant reminder of her artistic style and creativity. 

stepping into the garage you can already smell the weed that’s been circulating the air. taking a second to breathe in that familiar scent before closing the garage door right behind you. chaeyoung is sat on her favorite amp. littered in her own artwork and spray paint by the lovely artist herself. 

her head tilted down as she continued to play through different chords, each one prettier than the last. a pick between her lips as she concentrates on nailing the next measure. she’s beautiful like this, her favorite bunny tucked right at the base of the amplifier. 

tossing the backpack onto her worn couch, you plop right in front of her. watching the way her nail polish shines in the lowlight of an old studio light. she gives you a small nod as she continues to play. eyes never leaving yours, even as her hands move quickly along the guitar. 

you grab the joint that’s been lying next to her, taking a deep hit as she watches you. red across the whites in her eyes.

you lean back, letting the smoke go up, watching the cloud in the air as she continues to play. until she stops. setting the guitar down on her stand. and grabbing your hand, pulling you up.

“i missed you.” she explains, grabbing ahold of your neck, pulling you against her. 

you let your body fall against hers, laying your head against her shoulders. her arms moving to wrap around your. both of you slowly rocking in her garage.

“i missed you too chaeyoung.” you reply softly. letting the weight of today off your body. and she continues to sway you in her arms. it’s warm, her hugs are always so warm. and today more than anything you need her near. 

“tell me about your day.” she says softly, letting you continue to lean against her.

“it was tiring, you know how work usually is.” you explain, pulling her against you as you wrap your arms around hers too. “oh you missed it, jeongyeon confessed to nayeon today.” 

you stand back up, and chaeyoung stares at you, nodding slowly as she sits into the couch. grabbing her favorite strawberry glass cup as she drinks it.

“good for them.” she says, placing the cup back onto the coffee table. you watch the way she stares at her guitar. reddish eyes that don’t look at yours.

sitting down next to her she barely lifts an inch to look at you. busy grabbing her music papers off the ground. stuffing them into her folder as she leans back. and you do the same. letting your eyes watch the ceiling fan. a constant rotating, almost like it’s stuck in a loop. and really you can feel yourself feeling the same. 

the way that all you can do is wave at chaeyoung at school. restricted to the confines of these four walls to showcase your affection to your girlfriend. a reminder that the relationship that you two have only exists in this small space.

“chaeyoung, i want to be official.” you say gently, head turned to the side as you watch her side profile. 

“baby, we are official.” she says, taking a hit from her joint. 

“not to other people we aren’t.” you say, looking at her folded hands and the light thumping of her foot. “you won’t hold my hand in public, you won’t kiss me in public. why’s that?”

chaeyoung stares at you, eyes more opened as she watches you.

“why won’t you let my friends know about us?” you say with a bite. watching the way she continues to stare at you. lost in her own thoughts to offer up a response.

“i thought what we had here is okay.”

“i want more chaeyoung, you knew this.” 

you explain, watching the slight twitch in her eyebrows. 

the fiddling of her hands on her shirt. 

“i don’t know.” you hear, and just like that you grab your backpack, tossing it over your shoulder as you exit the garage. 

ignoring the pain in your chest as chaeyoung doesn’t bother to call out to you.

--

jeongyeon and nayeon are bickering like idiots in front of you. trying to step on each other’s calves to make each other fold over. you want to join in with them but lately, the fight with chaeyoung (if you can even call it that) has taken over your mind. instead you stand quietly next to mina. both of you watching the two girls, your arms folded over each other as you both walk in line for the music festival.

a little buzzing throughout your body.

the line continues to move forward and you can hear the distant music in the background. the loud chatter of everyone in line along with people lining the fields distracting you from the loneliness that’s been erupting in your heart. 

drowning out the sounds like a muffled speaker, until your feet reach the front of the line. a fellow classmate staring at your student ID expectantly. a scanner in their hand, and you show it to them. taking a second to look at the enclosed festival space. with a quick scan, you move forward into the area. a large open field crowded with excited students buzzing at the talents that will be showcasing their skills on stage tonight.

the heat beating on your skin, a light layer of sweat setting. the smell of grilled foods enticing the senses of jeongyeon and nayeon. them waving you and mina as they stumble away to the food stands.

mina’s pulling you through the crowd, slotting you two in a small open space. eyes forwards towards the stage. the sight of the fellow classmates on stage, pushing and placing microphones around the stage. long metal pipes laid around the giant black stage, light strobes hung along the top facing the performers. 

you keep picking at your skin, quickly grabbing a cigarette to slot between your lips. not lighting it but keeping it between your teeth as you roll it around. looking around hopefully for a head of blonde hair and that signature guitar case. instead you spot momo and sana in the back, giggling with each other before jumping to scare an unsuspecting jihyo. 

you turn back around facing the stage. arms crossed as your eyes land on everyone huddled closely. tapping your finger against your phone as you beg for it to vibrate. anything for a sign of thought from chaeyoung. she hasn’t answered your message from days ago, a clear indication she was retreating back into her shell. 

one that you often have to pull her out of, it’s just worse knowing that you are the reason why she’s retreating back.

you take another at the stage when you begin to notice the lights starting up, like a strobe light illuminating the dark stage. and out steps the administration, welcoming in the school spring festival.

you stare at your fellow classmates, some band members you can remember from your class. there’s jooyeon and o.de from english, along with their bandmates. eyes gleaming in the sun as they await their set. 

the crowd shouts as they continue their set. and through all the pop rock songs the sun continues to set into the night. the low buzz of people talking and laughing filling the night air. jeongyeon, nayeon and jihyo promptly rejoining you in the crowd of people. softly singing along to the covers of the songs. 

you watch as jeongyeon has her arms wrapped around nayeon. keeping her swaying in her arms. a deep feeling of longing in your heart as you stare at them. you even begin to feel a tear form before you snap out of it. the wind picking up as you continue to sing with mina. jooyeon and o.de giving their ending remarks and exiting offstage.

you turn to mina, offering her a light smile when she sees your distraught face all throughout the set. 

while you’re busy reassuring mina that you’re okay, a head of blonde enters the stage. jihyo and jeongyeon are busy fussing and bumping into you. making you turn your sight to chaeyoung up on stage. the dark lipstick that she always sports on her face. along with that guitar pick necklace you gifted her as one of your first gifts. 

the red of the mic in her hand and that guitar that she treasures most. 

you wonder if she treasures you in the same way.

people have begun to notice her on stage. everyone knows of chaeyoung, but few knew her truly. they didn’t know how she liked to sleep with that exact bunny by her side every night. they didn’t know the way she liked her coffee. they certainly didn’t know about that tattoo on her back. they don’t know how hard she pours her heart into every song she makes. 

they don’t know her like you do.

she takes center stage, eyes a little weary as she stares into the crowd. letting them sweep across the crowd. biting on her guitar pick as she stares out. and with a small huff she sits herself on the wooden stool. taking the time to adjust the mic stand. guitar laying on her body gently.

a reminder of every little ritual that you see when chaeyoung plays her guitar, all in front of your school to see.

staring at her as your body stills. not even the sight of jihyo and nayeon in your peripheral vision distracting you from your girlfriend. 

“hello, i’m chaeyoung.” she scoots herself further back onto the stool. you can hear the cheers from the crowd. they’ve never seen her perform in public in all the years that she’s carried that guitar on her back. 

everyone’s begging for a glimpse into what you admire so often.

“i know a lot of you have seen me with my guitar and wondered what i sing about? what i play about? who i play for?” she says, eyes continuing to stare into the crowd. she stutters a bit when her eyes land on you. hand gripping onto the red mic a little tighter.

“this song that i wrote, i wrote this based on my own feelings, and i wrote it for someone. please listen.” she says, taking a deep breath as she tucks a leg over another. letting the guitar rest it’s curve onto her thigh as she adjusts herself.

“this song is called ‘cant remember to forget you’, please enjoy.”

there’s light cheers and whistles as chaeyoung readies herself. 

and I left a note on my bedpost

saying not to repeat yesterday's mistakes

what I tend to do when it comes to you

her voice rings out clearer than the sound of water drops. the speakers hitting your ears as if she’s singing it to you. like all things that remind you of chaeyoung, one thing is the constant sticky notes in her room. dedicated to remembering the things that she cherishes most, one of which was the first note that she wrote to you, asking you to be her girlfriend. 

her eyes closed as she feels the music, hands moving along the guitar, and you can feel it, the emotions through her singing. a deep feeling as she nearly gets choked up. pushing through it to continue to sing. everyone around is swaying to her playing. 

her eyes landing on yours once more.

she’s singing this to you.

only to you.

the way you make me feel, yeah

you got a hold on me, i never met someone so different

the way she continues to slide her hands over the different frets. standing up quickly when she feels the emotions running through her too. eyes ablaze as she pours into her emotions. people are getting into the song, everyone’s cheering loudly and staring at her. but she can only focus on you. the way tears are falling off your face. the way the lights shine on your face. 

this song was made for you. 

and only you.

the only memory is us kissing in the moonlight

oh-oh ooh oh, oh-oh ooh oh

i can't remember to forget you

the memories of running down the sidewalks. laughing loudly as her hands were in yours. a box of takeout in hand and flowers in another. the memory of her slowing you down to give you a kiss under the moonlight.

every memory of your love under the moonlight, or under studio lights. love that only you two knew. tucked away from the world and those around you two. she rocks into the beat of the song, letting her playing get her into the feeling. 

the way you make me feel, yeah

you got a hold on me, I never met someone so different

her eyes are shining with tears too as she stares at you, you continue to stare at her. the way she can’t hold herself back when she’s singing. you’ve never heard her so vulnerable and open. a declaration of the feelings that she keeps away from others. and sometimes even you in turn. 

there’s tears in her eyes but she keeps singing to you. like all great artists they need a muse, and for chaeyoung. 

it’s you.

I can't remember to forget you.

she plays the last note, letting it fizzle out, and then the crowd erupts into a roar. everyone who ever thought she was strange for carrying her guitar everywhere is cheering in admiration. chaeyoung’s a talented artist. you knew this firsthand, but now everyone else knows it too.

the roaring in your ear feels like it’s muted, you can’t even hear them anymore. just the feeling of tears rolling freely, as she stares at you. her breath through the mic as she stares you down. that bunny hung onto the stand. she want you to know this song, it’s only for you.

only for you.

more people are cheering her on, begging for another song, erupting in chants of her name. 

“i’m only performing this song. i hope it reached the person i wanted it to reach.” she says. grabbing ahold of her mic, guitar, and tucking the bunny under her arm. taking a short bow before exiting off the stage. using the sleeves of her shirt to wipe the tears off.

mina’s offering a tissue to you silently, and you wipe your tears away as she looks away. a sweet smile on her face as you excuse yourself to find chaeyoung.

eyes a little blurry from the tears as you head off the side of the stage. seeing her blonde hair in the crowd. she looks gorgeous. and then she spots you, running up to you. throwing her arms around you as she pulls you into a kiss. 

taking the time to continue to kiss you even as you feel you nearly fall over. loud cheers and gasps as more people spot chaeyoung kissing you fiercely.

she leaves the kiss, eyes still filled with some tears but then she smiles at you.

“is this official enough?” chaeyoung smirks before pulling you into another kiss.

yeah, this is more than enough.

-- a/n: very late chae day fic hahaha !! sorry about that !! this is for my angst luver <33 angst4chaespookums lives on. stay safe and stay healthy everyone

[siredtosturniolos]

https://www.tumblr.com/siredtosturniolos/749200097735213056/first-of-all-im-sorry-if-this-is-the-wrong-place

I just read this and omg it’s so fucking good like ????

way you’re wording it 😩😩 I’ve an idea for part 2 (if u make one) since the age gap is 18 and 23 u should make it a „forbidden“ love like I mean that reader and Chris are scared to tell Matt and nick (or anyone) about their relationship because of the age gap and they keep teasing each other in front of their friends and siblings maybe have sex and almost get caught. Something similar to that yk. For part 2 u should definitely let the relationship be a secret. Love uuuu

forbidden

Paring: Chris Sturniolo x Reader

Part 1: enemies

Summary: part 2 (part 1 is enemies!) A few months later, you and Chris had finally put a label on what the two of you were. Nick and Matt had made several comments about the age gap being weird, so Chris wanted to hide the fact you guys were dating. So you also had to keep it off social media. You both stick to teasing each other, gentle touches when no one is paying attention, but Chris has had enough. He want's to come clean, but do you?

Warnings: Brief smut, almost getting caught, lots of teasing 🤭

Authors note: thank you for the idea for part 2! Hope you enjoy it <3 (also going to start part 3 tomorrow! ;)

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

My eyes meet Chris’ in the slightly crowded room, and I suck in a deep breath when he lowers one of his eyes into a wink. He looked so good tonight, wearing a new zip up hoodie with grey, blue, and red graphic designs I hadn’t seen before. He paired it with dark grey jeans and had a black shirt underneath, his silver chain catching the lighting just right.

I’m shaken from my thoughts as Sam and Colby approach me, Sam holding a drink out towards me. “Thank you!” I smile up at him, giving them each a quick side hug.

I could feel Chris’ eyes burning into the side of my face as I listen to Colby’s newest paranormal experience, and I can’t help but smirk slightly. I knew Chris was jealous Colby had my attention, even if there wasn’t anything more to it than two friends talking.

“Hey guys.” I’m startled as Chris suddenly appeared next to me, throwing his arm over my shoulders.

“Hey man! Good to see you.” Sam grinned at Chris, dapping him up. Colby followed suit, “Whatcha’ talking ‘bout?” Chris asked, turning to look down at me.

I suppress a knowing smile as Colby restarts his story. Half way through I manage to sneak my arm around Chris’ waist, and I almost laugh feeling him tense up.

“That must’ve been so scary.” I tell Colby, letting him know I was still present in the conversation as Chris had went radio silent. Colby nods in agreement, and Sam chimes in with what he had also witnessed that night.

I let my fingers slip underneath the fabric of his sweater, then under his shirt and I can feel the goosebumps rise on his skin. I lean my head on his shoulder, ignoring Chris' eyes as he whips his head in my direction.

Sam gets interrupted by Jake calling him over, as Corey had just shown up and they both excuse themselves. The second their backs are turned to us, Chris immediately pulls my hand from his waist.

"The fuck do you think you're doing?" He asks me darkly, staring down at me in the way I've come to love.

I shrug, looking up at him innocently, "Nothing." I manage to see past him and find Nick and Matt staring at us, questioning looks on their faces, and I take that as my cue. "Nick and Matt are looking, we should probably split up for a bit." I sigh, knowing I'd much rather follow Chris around all night.

Chris lets out a groan, "Damn. I wish we could just tell them so we could actually spend some decent time together." He rolls his eyes before squeezing my shoulder gently, and walking away to talk to Tara and Larray.

I walk over to the fridge and grab a can of lemonade, just having it cracked open when someone clears their throat behind me. I turn around mid sip to find Matt, crossing his arms over his chest with a disappointed look on his face.

"You look like a dad right now." I tease him, and I can tell he was fighting for his life to not crack a smile.

He shakes his head, "I may as well be. What's going on with you and Chris?" He asks me, lowering his arms as he maneuvers around me to also get a lemonade.

I put on my best poker face, "Nothing? We're just friends." I reply, shrugging my shoulders slightly.

Matt raises an eyebrow in reply, "Then why were you two just holding each other like that?" He asks, taking a sip of his drink.

"Our love langue is touch, Matt. You know how Chris is, you've only known him for all of your life but 2 minutes." I joke, making his face settle back into it's natural resting position.

"Well, then how 'bout we stand like that? Since you guys are just friends he won't mind." He grins at me, acting like he just caught me in a lie. He underestimates how far I would go to prove something, even if I am lying.

I set my can down and open my arms for him, "Lets do this." He's clearly surprised, but shuffles towards me anyways. He wraps an arm around my shoulder, and mine goes around his waist. I tickle him slightly and he nearly folds in half, causing me to laugh.

"Stop!"

We stand like this for a minute, before Johnnie walks over to get a drink. He starts talking to Matt about some band Johnnie had put him on, and I decide to look around and see what Chris is up to.

I find him still standing with Larray and Tara, but he’s looking at me. His face is scrunched up in anger, and I instantly begin to worry. He notices I’m looking back, and lets his eyes trail to Matt with a “What the fuck?” look on his face.

I glance at Matt, who’s still talking to Johnnie, “Hey, I’ll be right back.” I tell him, making him barely nod before he resumes his conversation with Johnnie. I walk towards the bathroom, hoping Chris would follow me.

I close the door and rest against the sink, biting my lip nervously. I hope Chris isn’t mad. There’s a soft knock on the door before it opens, revealing Chris. I take a step back so he can enter.

“The fuck was going on out there?” He impatiently asks.

“Matt was suspicious of us so I told him we’re just friends and friends stand like that together.” I tell him, grabbing both of his hands and giving them a reassuring squeeze, “You know you’re it for me.”

“Damn straight.” He grins at me, before lifting a hand to my jaw and tilting it upwards so he could kiss me. I let go of his other hand so I could wrap them around the back of his neck, tugging him closer to me.

The kiss gross sloppy, teeth clashing and Chris’ hands slipping down to my waist. He lifts me on top of the sink with no warning, making me gasp into his mouth. His tongue makes its way past mine, exploring my mouth. I left out a soft moan, and Chris groans in response.

“We should just tell them.” Chris whines as he pulls away, placing kisses down my neck.

“They’re gonna be mad.” I reply, tilting my head back so he has easier access. "Clearly they think the age gap is weird or something." I sigh as Chris leans away from me.

"At this point, they're going to be mad we've been hiding it from them for over a month." Chris points out, making me frown, "All that matters is that we're good with it."

I nod, "And we are. We can tell them soon but tonight with everyone here probably isn't the best idea." I reply, watching as Chris begins to smirk at me.

"We'll tell them tomorrow," He mutters, lifting his hand to toy with the band of my skirt, "But we can have some fun right now." With that, his hands guide my skirt down my legs and I can feel my heart pounding.

"Chris, your brothers are like 5 feet away from us!" I gasp, making him roll his eyes.

He lowers himself onto his knees, "Yet you aren't stopping me, angel." He begins to plant kisses up my thighs, making my legs spread for him on instinct. I can't ever say no to Chris when he wants to go down on me.

"Chris." I whine out as he presses a harsh kiss against my clit through my underwear. He meets my eyes and lowers one in a wink, making my center throb with need.

"Please touch me." I beg quietly, threading my fingers through his hair.

He hummed against my inner thigh, "Since you asked nicely like a good girl." He teases me, swiftly removing my underwear and stuffing them into his pocket. He gives me no time to protest as he quickly runs his tongue through my folds, letting it circle my clit.

I let out a breathy moan, instantly lifting my hand to my mouth to silence myself. I can't be loud considering there's a whole ass party on the other side of the door. Chris lifts my legs so they're resting against his back, and pulls me closer to him.

"Fuck!" I whine, rolling my hips into his face to which he lets out a moan, sending pleasurable vibrations up my spine. His large hands grip and squeeze at the sensitive skin of my thighs, almost distracting me from the fact he had just sucked my clit into his mouth.

I feel the coil begin to form and I squirm slightly, "Fuck Chris," I quietly groan, "Feels so good." Chris hums a reply, making my back arch and the coil gets even tighter, "So close." I whine, looking down at him.

I hold eye contact with Chris, "Please can I come?" I ask, knowing if I'm not looking at him when I ask he'll deny me. Kinky fucker has a thing for eye contact, which I've grown to love.

He nods against me, letting his tongue flick circles on my clit, and I finally feel the coil within me start to snap. My mouth is dropped open in a silent moan when suddenly there's knocking at the door.

"Y/N? You good?" Matt calls through the door, making my heart drop. I try to shove Chris off me so I could answer but he won't budge.

"Y-Yeah, be out in a s-sec!" I yell back, praying he didn't pick up on anything weird as I finally release all over Chris' tongue. My legs begin to shake as I'm over stimulated from Chris' tongue lapping up my release, pressing a gentle kiss to my clit before he pulls away.

Chris shakes his head in disappointment, "Was gonna ask you to return the favor but I guess I'll wait." He huffs out playfully, sliding my skirt back on.

"How the fuck are we gonna leave the bathroom without getting caught?"

"Shit."

[ratedfleur]

no because that anon that asked related to catching an bg idol jerking off…. could i request what would be le sserafims unnie (g!p) line to getting caught?

⋆˚˖° walking into le sserafim touching themselves °˖˚⋆

gp!le sserafim legal line x fem reader genre ౨ৎ suggestive

sakura wouldn’t even batt an eye and instead she would’ve ushered you to come inside and kneel on the ground, forcing your mouth open as she pushed your head down her cock.

chaewon would be so cocky and she’d ask if you liked what you see, practically forcing you to shy away because of the word choices she made, instantly making you weak in the knees.

yunjin would keep her hips moving in a broken rhythm before her eyes land on your wide ones as you watched her pleasure yourself, she would simply watch you gape your mouth as she fucked her toy.

kazuha would be so teary as she fucked her hand, eyes all glazed as they land on you, you can’t even resist and you’d instantly give her a helping hand despite not receiving a request for it.

[separatist-apologist]

On My Vigilante Shit Again

Summary: At the High Lords Meeting, Rhys doesn't dress for friends-He's dressed for revenge.

Read on AO3

Thank you @velidewrites for the moodboard!

Note: This is what should have happened post High Lords meeting and you can quote me on that

-

“The moment you let him fuck you like an—”

Rhys was going to explode. Was going to kill him. Laws be damned, Rhys stared Tamlin down as he ripped through Tamlin’s feeble defenses and held his mind. Just his tongue, for now. But his mind was pliant, his will weak. Rhys could so easily rip his mind apart, make Tamlin beg and plead. Make him grovel before Feyre on his knees, head bowed so low he couldn’t breathe for the marble slammed against his nose.

Rhys’s hands shook under the table, his jaw clenched so painfully he could taste blood. Had he bitten his cheek or was he merely tasting what was to come? Even as he held Tamlin’s tongue, forcing the High Lord into silence, Rhys thought it wasn’t enough. This was merely a show to the five others watching what he was capable of should they test him.

Should they insult his mate, his wife, his life. Feyre was visibly shaken, freckles stark against her gray face. Her eyes were too bright and if he really parsed through the mingling scents of the room, he knew he’d smell salt gathering in the corners. Tamlin had succeeded in undermining her at her first meeting, at the first test of power and everyone knew it. Weakness wasn’t tolerated among High Lords and they’d be circling her like vultures now, looking for more cracks.

Rhys could kill them all. His eyes flicked toward Beron Vanserra, brown eyes locked firmly on Feyre. It was a dark impulse and yet…if they wanted to test him, he’d destroy all six of them and leave their territories in ruins as their ruthless courtiers fought and killed for power. He’d let them eat themselves alive and then sweet in benevolently and take all of Prythian for Feyre. He’d lay waste to the world and set all that power at her feet.

Did they not know what Rhys would do to keep the ones he loved safe? Happy? Rhys kept Tamlin’s tongue silent for the duration of the meeting with barely a second thought. But there, in the darkest recesses of his mind—the part Feyre never ventured, in part because she didn’t think to—Rhys knew what needed to happen next. And he knew how he’d justify it when the other High Lords came to him, furious and fearful.

Tamlin had opened the gates for Hybern. He was a traitor to them all. That’s what he’d say, anyway. Some of them might guess the true reasons—Helion, certainly, who had very loud fantasies about doing worse to Beron than Rhys intended to do to Tamlin. And some might not care very much at all so long as they were reassured they were in no danger. Tarquin and Thesan, certainly, would know he was a liar and not care—Tarquin especially. Though he wasn’t fond of either Rhys or Feyre, his anger for Tamlin burned so hot that Rhys had been able to feel it in the back of his throat.

Tamlin’s foolishness had cost him more lives than Tarquin was able to count. He wanted to see Tamlin punished, too, and couldn’t for the same reason none of them could—they were forbidden from interfering in the matters of other High Lords. Rhys simply didn’t care. Stalking the halls, he listened until he found Tamlin’s pathetic thoughts.

Where did you go? Feyre’s voice floated through his thoughts, her presence caressing his own as she asked for entrance.

Rhys had never once refused her, but he did then. Go back to sleep, my love. I’ll be back before you can miss me.

Rhys, her voice carried a warning, some of the sleepiness gone. Whatever you’re thinking—don’t. Come back to bed.

I can’t.

It was the truth. They could insult him. Call him a whore, a bastard, evil, Amarantha’s right hand—whatever they liked. Rhys didn’t care. Even if they said it in front of his family in their attempt to humiliate him, Rhys didn’t care. Let them say whatever they liked about him.

But how dare they say a word against Feyre. She was the reason they were able to speak freely at all. If Rhys had his way, they’d get on their knees and worship her like a goddess, not taunt her like she was lesser. 

Rhys!

Maybe it was better to let her see—not to shut her out, but to invite her into his mind. To let her see the lengths he’d go. He’d promised her he’d do this once, didn’t he? That he’d hurt anyone who hurt her and he’d take his time doing it. He’d enjoy it.

As Rhys turned the handle to Tamlin’s door, he dropped his defenses so Feyre could slip in. He could feel her peering through his eyes, settling softly just behind his eyes. Her presence was a comfort, reassuring him that this was the right thing to do.

Rhys found Tamlin standing by a window, hands folded behind his back. When Rhys slipped inside, Tamlin turned, green eyes glowing brightly for just a moment. 

“Have you come to gloat?” Tamlin asked, teeth sharpening ever so slightly.

“Not exactly,” Rhys replied, jamming his own hands in his pockets. 

Tamlin sighed, eyes rolling in his skull. “Have you come to defend your mates honor? Spare me—she has none.”

The hair on Rhys’s neck stood on end.

Don’t, Feyre pleaded softly, her voice a shade too high pitched for his liking. He’s not worth it. 

“She’s the reason you’re standing here,” Rhys reminded Tamlin, forcing himself to remain calm. If he alerted Tamlin to his plan, he wouldn’t get to say everything he needed to say. “You owe her your life.”

“I’ve given her enough—”

“You’ve given her nothing,” Rhys snarled, his magic swirling around him like furious vipers. Tamlin didn’t blink, didn’t blanche, thinking incorrectly that Rhys was all talk and no action. 

“Are you angry about what I said or angry I had her first?” Tamlin spat, a fool to the very end. 

“When I found her locked in your home, it was only her love for you that spared you. I would have ripped you apart piece by piece otherwise.”

Tamlin turned back to the window. “She’ll betray you, too. Feyre isn’t capable of loving anything or anyone but herself and her power.”

Rhys’s stomach twisted in knots. 

“She died for you. For that love.”

“And I tried to make it up to her—”

“You locked her away like a trinket!” Rhys snarled again as Feyre pushed closer against him, talons stroking against his mind lovingly. “You were satisfied to let her waste away so long as she warmed your bed at night. If that’s love, well. I’d say I shudder to think what your hatred feels like, but I am intimately aware of how hateful you can be.”

Tamlin only sighed. “When she leaves you—and she will—I’ll be waiting for your apology.”

Rhys raised a hand as Feyre gasped softly in his mind, understanding right then what he truly intended to do. Tamlin, too, realized the danger he was in. It was too late. Immobile, Tamlin’s eyes widened as Rhys cocked his head to the side.

“You can wait for that apology in the afterlife and we’ll see, when I arrive, who was right.”

“Rhys—!” Feyre burst into the room a mere second before Rhys snapped his fingers. Blood sprayed through the room, coating not just his skin, but Feyre’s too. Where Tamlin had once stood, now there were merely the remnants of a male who’d lived a pathetic half life unworthy of memorial. 

Feyre turned, still in her silken nightdress, eyes wide. “You…”

Rhys didn’t dare back down, though he felt a sliver of genuine fear. “Yes.”

“You shouldn’t…you didn’t…” Her eyes welled with tears as she approached him. Raising a hand, Rhys flinched, expecting her to slap him. Maybe that’s what he deserved.

Soft fingers caressed his jaw. “Thank you,” she whispered. Rhys exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. 

“You’re not angry?” he asked carefully, eyes darting around the room. There was something delicious about his mate soaked in the blood of his greatest enemy. He wanted to strip her naked and lick her clean. 

“No one has ever had me,” she whispered, inching closer. The scent of her arousal slammed into him, nearly knocking him to the floor. “Not like you.”

That was all he needed to hear. Just the knowledge that she could see his worst, ugliest impulses and still love him for it was enough. Rhys needed her right then, so badly he was unwilling to even make the walk back to their shared bed chamber. She knew it, too.

Feyre surged upward on her tiptoes, their mouths crashing in a symphony of heat. Rhys groaned, snaking an arm around her waist to pull her flush against him. 

“I need you,” he told her, unable to add that what he needed was for her to confirm what he already knew to be true. They belonged together—he’d waited his whole life for her, would have waited centuries more. And it had all been worth it, in the end—to know it was her on the other end of all those sleepless nights, the years of misery, the loneliness that had plagued him. No one understood him the way she did, had ever truly looked at his very soul and found it beautiful rather than horrifying.

“You have me,” she told him, arching her neck so he could scrape his teeth against her soft, sensitive skin. “I’m never leaving.”

What would she say if she realized he wouldn’t let her leave? That his hatred of Tamlin was almost unjustified because Rhys understood why someone would want to lock her away and keep her all for themselves. Rhys felt the same urge, felt the same drive to snarl and snap at every male that dared to look at her without showing the proper reverence. They were too casual about her, didn’t venerate her the way they should. Feyre was more than just High Lady—she was a living goddess, the Cursebreaker herself. 

“Fuck,” Rhys groaned, tongue licking a path down her throat to taste the blood adorning her skin like rubies. If Rhys had known she’d taste so good coated in another male's blood, he’d have killed Tamlin at their wedding. That scrap of silk was soaked and when Rhys ripped it away, he found the skin beneath stained red, too. Rhys needed her more than he needed anything else.

They’d condemn him for this. When they found the remnants of Tamlin, they’d smell his arousal and what he’d done atop the bits that remained. Rhys didn’t care—he hoped Tamlin’s soul lingered so he could watch how well Rhys fucked Feyre. And if Tamlin were still alive, Rhys might have told him that he’d fucked Feyre so thoroughly she had no memory of his pathetic attempts at satisfying her.

You were inadequate, Rhys wished he could say. The problem was always you and never her. 

“I can hear your thoughts,” Feyre complained as Rhys sank to his knees. “Stop thinking about Tamlin and your witty comebacks.”

“I have so many things I didn’t get to say,” Rhys complained, pushing her gently against the very same bloodstained window Tamlin had been brooding beside mere minutes before. 

“You can say them at his grave,” she reminded him. 

“You’re so brilliant,” Rhys praised. “And beautiful. And you taste…”

He had his face between her legs as he spoke the words, raising one slim leg to hook it over his shoulders. Feyre exhaled, leaning her head back so her thick hair spilled over her shoulders, the tips teasing peaked, rosy nipples. 

Rhys almost stood back up but Feyre, the clever thing, pushed his head back down. “Focus,” she whispered. He’d forgotten she was still in his mind, listening to his thoughts and watching through his eyes.

“Can you feel how badly I want you?” he whispered, letting his breath curl like shadows against her wet cunt.

“Yes,” she panted, nails scraping over his scalp. 

Rhys let go of his power, drowning the two of them in darkness. His wings flared outward, enveloping the both until she was hidden from the world unless someone happened to be flying by the window her ass was pressed against. Feyre moaned loudly, unconcerned about anyone else hearing. Good. Rhys wanted her screams to echo off the vaulted ceilings, to keep them all awake. Let them hear—let them know how far Rhys would take it. That the true power in his home was Feyre herself.

Feyre was High Lady and Rhys was her sharpened blade. 

Rhys licked up the side of the thigh, cleaning the blood before switching to the other. Feyre was practically trembling by the time he reached her center, the taste of copper mingling with the sweetness of her arousal. Rhys reached upward, using his strength to hold her so she could relax and, perhaps selfishly, so he could spread her further apart. He liked to see her flushed pink with arousal, liked to tease her with his fingers without wholly penetrating her. He wanted her desperate for his cock by the time he finished with her. Rhys teased her with his thumbs, pulling her cunt apart to rub her clit with his fingers and his tongue while Feyre writhed over him, gripping his hair so roughly she was in danger of ripping them out by the roots. Rhys was so aroused it was making him stupid, the throbbing between his legs almost painful.

But he needed to do this. Needed her to see him on his knees before her, worshiping her the way the rest of the world refused to. Besides, the taste of her was soothing something wicked and angry in his chest, calming the raging beast threatening to go on a rampage.

Feyre’s breath hitched in her chest, her free hand coming to his shoulder to stroke the edge of his wing just the way he liked. He didn’t need her to touch his cock at all to come—if she kept her cunt in his face and her hands on his wings Rhys would be spent before he ever had her grinding against him.

Still, Rhys began to work faster, tongue flat against her just the way he knew she liked. Feyre began rolling her hips against him, her orgasm building. Ride her through it—that’s all he had to do, now. Rhys liked when she used him like this, taking her pleasure without concern as to what he thought about her. Daring to press into her mind, Feyre’s arousal slammed into him with enough force to nearly knock him on his ass. 

Her thoughts were a mindless chant of one word—Rhys, Rhys, Rhys, Rhys, Rhys—

If he hadn’t been so turned on, he might have wept. Unwilling to disappoint her in the final moments before she fell over that ledge, Rhys doubled his efforts, looking up as he licked her to watch her come. Feyre was radiant, glowing like silvery moonlight as she fell apart. Head thrown back, breasts arched toward the ceiling and her skin flushed, Rhys wished he could paint so she could see herself the way he did.

“Stop,” she panted, fingers sliding from his hair to cup his face. “I can hear you, I��”

“I need you,” was all he could manage to say. He could have laid her out on the bed if he’d wanted to, taken his time. But Rhys didn’t want to. He wanted her right then, right now, and he’d have her against that window or not at all.

Feyre clawed at his clothes, drawing forth a talon to slice open his shirt. Rhys didn’t want to think about the walk of shame the pair were going to have to undertake when they were finished. Perhaps he’d call Cassian and beg his friend for a favor and endure the inevitable teasing that would happen in the aftermath. It was well worth it—Rhys couldn’t wait to tell Azriel, Mor, and Cassian that he’d slaughtered Cassian. Unlike the rest of the ruling elite, his friends would find it funny.

“Now,” Rhys told Feyre, hoisting her up so her back was flat against the window. He offered no other warning before he slid his aching cock into her body. Rhys nearly lost himself, rutting into

Feyre like the animal Tamlin claimed he was without a care or concern for the female pressed against him. Her body gripped him so tightly, still convulsing from the orgasm he’d given her with his mouth. 

“You’re so fucking tight,” Rhys whispered, biting gently against her shoulder. “Sometimes I think you were sent to destroy me.”

“You should have run from me, then,” Feyre replied as she raked her nails down his back.

“Dying at your hands would be a gift,” he said, half delirious from pleasure. All Rhys could focus on were his hips, thrusting hard enough that the window rattled in time behind them. His words were merely his unfiltered thoughts given voice because Rhys had never learned when to shut his mouth. 

“There will be no death for you,” Feyre told him, lips gliding over his jaw. “Only me.”

Rhys shuddered, holding her so tightly against him he felt her ribs groan in protest. He needed her like he needed the air in his lungs, the sun on his skin, the wind on his wings. How had he managed so long without her? Rhys could barely remember that time before, the memories tinged gray with loss. 

How much different would every horror have been if he’d had her at his side? If he knew she was at his back, bow pulled taut, gaze focused and lethal on his enemies? Rhys tried to imagine Feyre going up against his father, against Amarantha in the first war, against Tamlin and his family.

His breath stuttered at the image. Gods, they would have been unstoppable. 

“Rhys,” Feyre breathed, holding his face so he had to look at her. “Come for me.”

Rhys was everything Tamlin accused him of being, but without any shame. He was fucking her like an animal because that was how Feyre liked it. She panted, nails clawing at his tattooed skin until the smell of his fresh blood mingled in the air. He was desperate and needed to feel her come again, wanted her wrapped so tight around his cock he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, could do nothing but wait until she released him.

Snaking a hand between them, Rhys rubbed circles over her clit—it took two, maybe three before Feyre cried out, allowing Rhys the pleasure of capturing the sound with his tongue and teeth. 

Taste yourself, he ordered, thrusting into her with brutal efficiency. Feyre was pliant in his arms, her cunt just as tight as he’d hoped it would be and twice as wet. Rhys couldn’t have stopped himself even if he wanted to, coming with a snarl so loud there was no way everyone in the hall didn’t hear him.

Rhys poured himself into her, half wishing something would take. He didn’t want to stop, even when he was spent, balls empty. He could have kept going if he took a minute to catch his breath.

Feyre, too, seemed to be thinking the same thing.

“You’re so beautiful covered in blood,” she murmured, brushing a lock of hair out of his eyes.

Rhys suddenly didn’t care if someone watched him carry Feyre naked through the palace. Fuck everyone.

“Come on,” he purred, pressing a soft kiss just beneath her ear. “Let's get you to bed.”

[rojacatmisa]

Chapter 1 > Chapter 2 > Chapter 3

Starting over in Madrid Chapter 4 : Hell Clasico

"You don’t come after training because we’re still grounded ?" 

Misa’s text made my heart lifted. With the Clasico and games abroad coming, I had a huge amount of work that was keeping me out of the stadium. I had shut myself in my office for three days now, importing, retouching photos, thinking about the next games’s visuals… Due to the fact that resisting the goalkeeper was becoming more and more difficult, I had to admit I was relieved to be able to avoid her.

I thought a moment about what to answer. As soon as she had stood up from that bench on the evening at the park, Misa had been her funny self again. She had joked happily. We had said goodbye at the entrance of the parking. Like friends do. If she had been disappointed, she had been hiding it well. 

And now she was texting about me for not coming to our photo meeting in a casual yet flirty way again…

"Feels like I’m the grounded one… work is having me trapped in my office!" I texted back.

"👉🤓" 

"🫠👋"

She started typing and stopped. Her text bubble didn’t reappeared. I sighted. I hated having to be distant with her. I sighted again and buried myself back into work. 

Fifteen minutes later, loud erratic knocks boomed against the door of my office.  "What…?". Without waiting, Misa, Hayley and Sofie burst into the room. "Here she is ! You believed to could get rid of us that easy Nicky?" Hayley asked while the three girls came around my desk. Misa had bring a ball and severals biscuits with her. "What are doing here?!" I said already annoyed. I had a feeling they weren’t here to help me… 

"We’re checking if you’re still Nicky and not a robot." Misa dropped the biscuits on my desk and started to play with her ball, making it rebound between her foot and thigh. Sofie was leaning toward my computer’s screen. "Do you have new photos of me?". Hayley was observing my cameras under every angles. "I’ve never seen this one, would you recommend it Nicky?" The dull sound of the ball rebounding rhythmically was constantly filling the room. I wasn’t believing how fast they had created such a mess.   

"Guys, a girl needs to focus right now!" I said, eyes closed, a hand on my forehead. "Oh, you can keep working, don’t mind us." Hayley had taken a camera and was back at taking pictures. Sofie joined Misa and they went passing each other the ball. There was no way I was going to be able de concentrate in this chaos. 

Edit just ten more photos tonight. I said to myself. I grabbed back my pencil and graphic tab, opened a photo of Olga striking, and started to erase an unwanted grass twigs on one of her socks.

On the corner of my eye, I saw Misa’s face approaching the screen while chewing a mouthful of biscuits. "What’s this? Are you drawing?" She pointed at my tablet. The sound of the ball was still resounding, Sofie had taken over. A few crumbles fell off the goalkeeper’s mouth. "Misa! The keyboard !" I blowed hard on it to make them go away. "Perdòn!" She stood back and tried to swallow her snack. She gestured to me to explain again.

That girl can be such a pain !

"No, I can’t draw, I’m just correcting details. A pen is more precise that a mouse". I said to her.

"Oh vale ! Can I try It ?" I glared at her. "I mean not now! When you have the time. And… I can teach you football in exchange". She ended up showing an innocent smile.

That girl will drive me mad! 

"Misa! Leave Nicky alone and come to my IG Live, the fans wants to see you !" Sofie called from the farthest corner.

"Coming! Nicky, take a biscuit, son muy buenos!"

They kept going like this until they were forced to leave with me. I had painfully managed to do half the work I wanted to be over. Tomorrow is another day, they say. 

***

Alas, next day was just the same. They came after their practice and occupied themselves more loudly than ever until my boss finally came to have them go away. With all of that, it was miracle I had finished everything at a rather early time on the eve of the Clasico. That meant I could attend the motivation speech that followed today’s training session.  

Sitting in the stands, the speech wasn’t captivating after all. Maybe I hadn’t enough knowledge of football to really get it but I found it lasting forever. The players weren't into it either. Olga’s legs were showing signs of impatience. Linda was slowly drifting. But despite my tiredness, I wanted to check on Misa and Hayley, so I kept waiting. 

I caught them at the building exit. I could sensed their nervousness behind the frank smiles they both gave me as a greeting. 

"Hey Nicky, great speech eh..?" Hayley hugged me, she was so tensed. "Thanks for waiting but I need go home. I’m off, girls, see you tomorrow !" Misa patted her shoulder as she left and she roughly brushed her hair in return. 

I turned to the goalkeeper. "How are you coping?" I asked her gently. She shifted her weight from one leg to the other. "Estoy bien…", she answered peering down, her foot kicking at the floor vainly. She obviously wasn’t. 

"Do you want to walk ?" I said without any back thoughts. I just wanted to help my friend to feel a bit better. She nodded. 

We went touring the sport campus. We tried to talked about anything but the Clasico. At first, Misa was jumping in place every now and then to get rid of her stress. She relaxed when we started teasing each other. 

"Misa, you can’t be with a ball without showing off! That’s insane!". 

She smirked. "I’m athlete Nicky! Football is my life, of course I play with my ball all the time". She side glance at me, her mischievous tone and a satisfied smile back. "I did 65 rebounds yesterday." 

I giggled "Is that much ?". Misa’s both disappointed and irritated air had me laughing out loud. 

She slapped me on the arm "Jajaja, muy divertido! Enhorabuena Nicky! I don’t care about what a girl who work al Real and knows nothing about football thinks!" 

It was my turn to faint annoyance. "I see trainer Misa is long gone before she even started… you are a very reliable person." She opened her mouth but was out of answer. I had had her sulking again. Grumpy Misa was one of my favorite. 

I took a pleading look. "All right, you are the best Misa! Eres la mejor! Now, when do we start training ?" I was sure the training part would lift her spirit. 

She side-eyed me again, still vexed. "Have you at least ever play football ?". 

I pretended to search my mind. "It happened... twice maybe. First was at school, and second on the alley in front of my parent’s house". 

She snorted. "No es posible…" She shook her head and continued, her voice suddenly curious. "For real, why did you want to work for a football club?" Her mocking tone gone had me really wonder how much I wanted to tell. 

"I needed a change in my life. Anything was… not going well. I had a rough break up and was really unhappy in my previous job…"

"I’m sorry to hear that" she said with a concerned look. 

I half laughed half sighted. "It’s ok now. I’m glad to be here. I really like Madrid". We were reaching the exit of the building again. 

"Bueno… and do you like your new job too ?" 

"Yes, I’m quite found of it… and of my new exasperating friends" I went back teasing her a little as we headed to the parking. 

"I’m happy you’re good with us", she said, not reacting on the teasing part this time. 

We arrived in the middle of the car park. I didn’t know if we were going in the same direction so I gestured on the right  "I’m parked this way". 

"I’m parked over here but I’ll go with you to your car, I can do with a bit more walk" she replied although she sounded far less stressed now. 

We reached my vehicle and faced each other to say goodbye. "Thanks Nicky" Misa softy spoke. Her features were less drawn. The walk had soothed her a little. 

"You’re looking better. Are you sure you’re ready to go home ?" I inquired one last time. 

She opened her mouth but nothing came out. Instead she simply smiled and looked away. "Misa?" I frowned not knowing how to help her anymore. 

Her head turned back to me. She bit her lip and her eyes stopped on mine. Then she slowly moved forward. My brows went up, having me frozen in a surprised look as she took my hands in hers, and I knew that that was it, that there’s was no escaping this time, and that I didn’t gave a fuck.

I half closed my eyes, my head slightly bowed while she leant over. My gaze stayed on her quivering mouth as she approached mine. At last, she pressed her lips. I let out a short breath. I was surprise by the tenderness of her kiss. Her mouth was soft, its movements slow.

I kissed her back. Letting relief fill me up. Completely abandoning myself as her taste and scent washed over me. Our noses brushed against each other. The grip of our hands tighten as we went on kissing, softly still, slowly still. 

Finally, she withdrew her lips from mine, a soft smile lingering on them, having me missing their contact immediately. My eyes couldn’t leave hers. 

"I’m ready now" she whispered. I exhale and shyly smiled and she released my hands. "Good night Nicky ». She stepped back and turned over. My gaze followed her until she disappeared behind the birch trees growing between the parking spaces. 

***

Aitana Bonmati was running fast, dribbling everyone coming for her. She armed her strike and shoot between Ivana and Olga toward the penalty area. The ball landed right on Salma precise foot who immediately kicked hard at the upper left corner of the goal. Misa jumped with all her strength and the tip of gloves deflated the ball, preventing Barcelona to strike once again. 

The match had been hard and demanding from the very beginning. Barça team had been pressing Real Madrid players, having them constantly cornered near their penalty area. Misa had already saved five goals but as Mariona Caldentey had outpasted all the defenders for the third time and send a particularly well aimed kick to Caroline Graham Hansen, the goalkeeper had gone on the wrong direction and the ball had rolled easily in the cage. Misa had sweared, gotten up, and send a long clearance skillfully recovered by Hayley. Hayley was a fast runner too. She had passed the ball to Athenea, who had dribble passed Irene Paredes and used the one second of disorganization to find Linda. The kick from Linda’s head had miraculously flied through the expert gloves of Cata Coll, and crashed on the net behind her, filling the stadium with unexpected joy. 

Returning from the halftime, Barça had pressed harder harder without succeeding at scoring yet an other goal. After a clever discussion in locker room during the break, the real Madrid was holding well against them for the first time, Misa’s many saves putting and end to theirs brilliant sequences of passes. And the unbelievable had happened at de 78th min. Naomie had succeeded at loosing Alexia Putellas’marker to get the ball from Oihane’s throw-in. Her quick arched shot had found Olga on the left side, who had managed a shot worthy of the World Cup. She had stricken from her rather distant position straight at the right upper corner, giving Cata Coll an impossible job. The stadium had burst screaming, echoing Madrid players all hugging together to celebrate their first time ever leading Barcelona. 

It was extra time when Misa’s body crashed on the grass again from saving Salma’s strike. The Madrid player were back at having a hard time. I could see they were physically drained, their feet barely touching the ball anymore. 

They all took position, ready for the corner, Misa giving directions to her teammates as she prepared herself for the upcoming action. Salma struck. She crossed the ball back from the goal line. The ball descended on Alexia in a perfect neat curve before she sent it crashing to the net. Barcelona had come up to the score, victory slipping through the Madrid girls'fingers at the 95th minute. Now, the match was going extra time. I saw Misa down in her attempt to save to ball, kicking the grass with her fists in frustration. As well trained as they were, the team was exhausted. With Barça clearly dominating, the extra time was going to be a living hell. 

Misa passed by me as she exit the tunnel to ran toward her goal after the short break. I took a shot of her face, a mix of deep concentration and extreme fatigue. My heart sank. I had been covering the match with other photographers from the start, trying hard to focus on my job rather than on the ongoing actions and the increasing pressure on Misa. 

The game resumed. Madrid team formed two compact lines in front of the goal. They had received new guidelines: keep on defending and don’t take another goal at all cost. Their strategy, and Ivana’s agile foot prevented a new shot on target finding the net. The only two more attempts of Madrid met Cata’s gloves, her clearance sending the ball back on their half pitch again. But, they hold on again and again the entire the first half of extra time.

During the second, fouls and cramps multiplied on each sides, chopping the play in numerous sloppy actions and hardening the footballer’s job by giving them unnecessary minor injuries. Misa’s attempt to grab a shot by Mariona sent her rolling on ground and her knee hit the goal-post. The ball luckily found the cross-bar and was quickly cleared by Kathellen. But Misa was still down, grasping her knee between the puffy fingers of her gloves. I shuddered. No please! Let not it be a serious injury! I silently prayed. The medical staff came over after the referee had blown the whistle. With several of her teammates surrounding, I could barely see what was going on. 

I waited, trying to breathe properly, not looking at the last picture I took of Misa, curled up on the grass, her features distorted by pain. After what was feeling like a hour, the med staff went away and the small crowd scattered, revealing Misa standing on her feet again, though she was breathing hard and slightly limping. I relaxed a little.

The goalkeeper settled back in front of her caged but she gave the ball to Ivana for her to do a long clearance. She clearly hadn’t the strength anymore. The ball was back in her penalty area in a heartbeat but the match had Madrid finally find the key to put up a very strong defence. When the whistle blew again, it was to put an end to the game at last. 

The penalty shoot out would decide the winner of the Copa de la Reina. More than ever, the outcome of the match was now resting mostly on Misa’s shoulders.

The goalkeeper and the rest of the team gathered around the trainer near the bench. I crossed eyes with Misa and I smiled, my fist clenched up in the air to show her my support. She didn’t seemed to see me. Nothing exists apart from the game when she was playing. 

Madrid opened the shoot out with Olga. She shot, scored. Cheers burst. 

Misa jumped on her line. Caroline Graham Hansen scored as well. 

Claudia kicked hard on her right but Cata had understand where she was aiming. Her body blocked the ball, having Barça yelling in triumph. 

Aitana scored. 

Athenea scored. 

Mariona scored.

Hayley scored.

Last ball. All was resting on Misa. If she failed the ball, everything was over. 

Alexia armed her leg. Kicked. The ball flew on the opposite of the goalkeeper. 

It was it. Madrid had lost. I forgot to take pictures, focusing on the limp body of Misa still laying on her back, her gloves on her face. As the Barcelona players hugged together in victory, the sturdy figure of Alexia was crouched at Misa side, muttering to her words I could not hear. She heaved Misa to her feet, helped her taking off her gloves. I could see her face wet with tears, her eyes puffed and closed as she was still sobbing. They leaved the pitch, Alexia’s arm over Misa’s shoulders. One of other photograph was shooting restlessly at them while they headed toward the tunnel. I couldn’t suppress a surge of anger. 

I got up, quickly took the steps that separated me from the man with the camera. 

"Give her a rest ok ?!" I shouted in his direction. The man stared blankly at me, astonished. In addition to my strange behavior, he probably wasn’t speaking English. 

Noticing my action, Misa and Alexia had stopped. When she saw me close, Misa lowered her head as if she couldn’t bear to look at me. Alexia stared kindly at me, guilt still her eyes as she knew she had partly caused the sadness of her friend. 

"I can take her to the locker room if you want" I said, instantly shocked by my own words when I couldn’t leave my job. 

Misa lifted her face again. Alexia looked at the goalkeeper to see if she was ok with that. Misa nodded and I took over Alexia to guide her through the tunnel. 

I made Misa sat on the farthest bench of the locker room. Everything was quiet here, the screeches of the celebration only a distant echo. The goalkeeper had stopped crying. Her board shoulders and muscular body seemed so fragile somehow. I took a seat beside her, not knowing what to do now it was up to me to comfort her. 

"I’m sorry" I simply said.

"We were so close!" she cried. "Let’s just go! I don’t want to be there, I don’t want the puta silver medal again!" She blown her nose hard and rubbed her red eyes with a towel laying by. Exhaustion was oosing from her at every levels. 

"No Misa you can’t go" I responded and caught a surprised side eye, as surprise as she could be in her current state. "You can’t go because everything’s not about wining or being better or best ! You can’t go because football doesn’t have to be that. It’s not about the score, the cup or whatever. Football is an emotion, a battle, a shared experience. And first and foremost it’s a spectacle and you put on one hell of a show as a team and as a player tonight! If you go, nothing remain, it would mean nothing. You have to go back Misa." 

Silence settled between us. I felt exposed and embarrassed by the words I had just spoken. It was ridiculous, saying obvious things like that to a seasoned footballer when I was barely discovering the sport. 

The goalkeeper exalted deeply. "You lied to me" she said, gotten me confused. She chuckled softy "You acted like you didn’t know a thing about football". She painfully stood up and waved me to do the same. "But you do" she said smiling as we faced each other. The tall woman pulled me into a hug, her head resting on my shoulder and I hold her tight against me. I gently stroked her back, her jersey was wet and she was clearly stinking of sweat but I didn’t care. I just wanted us to stay like this, clump together.

After a few minutes, we parted and smiled softy at each other. In spite of her weariness, Misa was looking less drained. She was waiting for... something while expectantly looking at me. Her dimples back with her grin enlighten her tired face. I kept smiling, my mind racing to figure out what I should do, what I could do… what I wanted do to. When she thought I wouldn’t do anything, Misa’s smile faded a little and she stared to turn around. 

"Misa, wait…" I grabbed her arm and pulled her back against me. I only took a glimpse of her surprised yet eager face before I kissed her.

I grasped her face, pressed her mouth harder against mine. Misa let out a whine, the sound of it had body set afire. I slowly made her step back until she hit the lockers room’s door. She gasped at the contact and put one of her hand in my hair, the other gripping the fabric of the bottom of my shirt. She opened her lips, her taste filled me up entirely and had me moan with want.

Our heated kiss had enlighten all my senses and turned my body into white iron. I felt my hand acting on her own as it went under Misa’s jersey and up her abs. She wimped again, her own hands going under my shirt and touching the skin of my waist. Her soft and full lips were enveloping my mouth, our breathings had become jerky.

Fevered by my desire of her, I led my hand down her stomach to the strap of her shorts. She groaned and froze. "Wow! Nicky wait…" I stopped neat. She took her hands off my back and gently seized my face. "I have to go back" She said, a burning gaze on me. I breathed, trying to tame the flames devouring my insides. I smiled and repeated, "You have to go back". She placed a last kiss on my lips and got off the room.

Right now, Hell Clasico was finishing on a heavenly note.

***

[ebdaydreamer]

wip wednesday

guys, guess who's writing more mommy kink! I'm actually writing two mommy kink fics at once. one breeding kink, and one buddietommy

I got tagged a couple of weeks ago, but I finally have enough to share!

tagging (no pressure!): @bidisasterevankinard @elvensorceress @bucksbiawakening @loserdiaz @eddiebabygirldiaz

@bigfootsmom @monsterrae1 @wildlife4life @honestlydarkprincess @911onabc

breeding kink:

Eddie’s back hits the wall the second he steps foot in the apartment. His surprise is swallowed by Buck’s lips. He wraps his arms around his boyfriend, melting at the solid mass of muscle pressing him into the wall.

He moans as Buck’s lips travel down his cheek and neck. The lightest touch of stubble leaves a gentle burn as he goes.

“Eddie… Eddie…” Buck mumbles into his neck. “Eddie, please, please.”

Eddie hums. “Now, now, how do we ask for things?”

“Mommy,” Buck moans.

Eddie’s hips jolt forwards, seeking friction and finding it against Buck’s thigh. “Better, but not quite. What do you want, baby?”

Buck lifts his head, but before Eddie can mourn the loss of his lips, he says, “I want to fuck you. Want to fill your cunt over and over.” Eddie shivers, and Buck presses a kiss to the shell of his ear. “Want to plug you up to keep it in, to keep you open so I can fuck you again. And again. Want to get you pregnant.”

“Upstairs,” Eddie pushes off the door, practically dragging them to the bedroom. “Naked. On the bed. Now!”

They race up the stairs and strip themselves, too eager to take their time. Eddie is down to his boxers, when he’s grabbed from behind and tossed on the bed.

And whilst being manhandled by his boyfriend is, in fact, hot as hell, Eddie knows Buck does it for a reason.

“Did Mommy say you could do that baby?” he scolds, but Buck is already towering over him.

“My baby boy is usually better behaved than this.” He snakes a hand up and grips Buck’s curls so tightly it’s bound to be a little painful, which gets a delicious whine out of him. “Maybe you don’t deserve to knock Mommy up. Only good boys get their Mommies pussies.”

“I’m sorry, Mommy.” Eddie can see Buck’s cock twitch where it hangs between his legs. “I’m just so excited.”

Eddie sighs, releasing his grip. “Well, you’re going to have to make it up to me.”

“I will.” Buck quickly pecks his lips. “I promise. How?”

“You’re a clever boy, you know what Mommy likes,” he says as he strokes his finger through Buck’s hair, soothing the spot he had been pulling. “Surprise me.”

Buck grins. It’s a grin he doesn’t usually see when they do Mommy and baby. It’s confident and seductive and usually means Eddie’s in trouble.

He starts at the corner of Eddie’s jaw, leaving a light but very wet kiss. He makes a torturously slow trail down Eddie’s throat. Eddie’s cock twitches where it’s still trapped in his boxers. He almost says ‘fuck it’ and demands that Buck get his cock inside of him and knock him up right this second. But he knows it will be so worth it to let it last.

Buck halts his trail at Eddie’s collarbone when he looks up at Eddie and says, “You’ll be so pretty pregnant, Mommy.”

buddietommy:

He opens the door and sees Eddie curled up in Tommy’s lap, both shirtless, as they make out. His blood rushes south so fast it makes him dizzy.

He catches Tommy’s eye, who pulls away to mummer, “Look, sweetheart, look who’s home.” He smiles at Buck. “Hey, kid.”

Buck choked down some saliva that had been filling his mouth. “Hi, Daddy.”

They only did this a couple of times when they were together. But it was some of the best sex of Buck’s life and he can’t wait to do it again. But this time, with Eddie, his Mommy.

“Well, aren’t you going to kiss Mommy and Daddy hello?” Eddie tuts.

Being told to do something jolts Buck awake, letting him know that this is not, in fact, a dream. He goes to their guest first, threading his fingers through his hair. Tommy cups his jaw, the weight as firm and grounding as it always was. His lips are swollen and he tastes a little like Eddie. He wonders how long they’d been here, making out, waiting for him.

[ree-duh]

This is probably going to sound extremely insensitive (and it likely is), but all the white autistic people projecting onto the Laios/Toshiro fight because of something that happened to them growing up kind of need to get over it. We're not in 6th grade anymore, and Toshiro didn't go to their grade school, so I think maybe we should unclench a little and work through our childhood trauma in a more productive way that doesn't involve demonizing a brown man for the sake of their golden boy. (1/2)

I think because of how overwhelming white tumblr is a lot of people who are relating to Laios in that situation have kind of got themselves into a bit of an echo chamber situation because they’re all kinda reaffirming their own very specific experiences of living with autism when Laios and the way he presents is impacted by his identity as both being white and being socialised as a man.

People can present very differently depending on their surroundings and there’s so many factors that can cause people to change or adjust their behaviours so insisting that toshiro couldn’t be autistic is just kinda pushing the narrative that there’s a correct way of being neurodivergent which isn’t true?? And as you’ve said can be really upsetting to people who may actually present that way

At the end of the day a lot of people are just stuck in a loop of seeing themselves as Laios and I can’t fault people for finding themselves in the media they consume but projecting too heavily to the point of misunderstanding the source material is only gonna make your understanding of the narrative weaker overall.

While I do discuss this I think it is important to say that while nobody can fault you for not being able to pick up on subtle social queues if that’s something you find difficult because it can be hard you need to also keep in mind that if you do inadvertently upset someone you can’t hand wave them off by saying you just didn’t understand without first address that you have upset them intentionally or not

[mostlymarvelsstuff]

Moi Devochki: Chapter 3

Warnings: cannon typical violence, Steves an asshole

Word count: 2463

WandaNat Masterlist Marvel Masterlist Moi Devochki Masterlist

About two weeks have passed since the three of you have mated and by some skill and lots of pure luck you've all been able to keep anyone from finding out. Well, accept Yelena but she was definitely an exception. Natasha was dying to let Clint know, but she was afraid her best friends excitement would have that information quickly finding its way into the ear of every Avenger.

   The three of you are in the training room currently, Nat had brought you both here to train you in some more combat techniques. You both knew a few things, but she wanted to make sure her mates were both well prepared, she didn’t want to risk either of you getting hurt. 

   She demonstrates each move before having you try it out on each other. The current move Wanda is to replicate on you is a basic Armeyskiy Rukopashniy Boy(army hand to hand combat) move that Nat had learned from Spetsnaz, the Russian Special forces. All she had to do was disarm you of the rubber training knife without being ‘stabbed’. 

   You lunged at the other Omega, swinging the fake blade at her. She shifted into her defensive stance, her arms and hands ready. Or at least she thought they were ready but halfway through she forgets what her next move is, her hands fumble and the two of you end up colliding. You both fall to the floor below, the training mats softening your landing as Wanda ends up landing on top of you.

   She quickly tries to move, worried you might be hurt but your hands grab her waist keeping her close as you erupt in laughter. After a few seconds you can hear her laugh join yours, both of you finding the situation far more hilarious than you should have. 

Your Alpha chuckles as she watches the two of you. Normally she might repremaind you both for not taking training seriously but she knows she's had you in here for hours and that you’d both been trying your best and had even learned several new moves already, so she lets you all simply be in the moment. 

   Once your laughter dies down Wanda lifts her head to look at you, your eyes meet hers and upon seeing the sparkle of happiness in your eyes she can’t help but forget where you are as she leans down and kisses you. The joy of this moment is incredibly brief, however because Steve had walked in just in time to see Wandas lips meet yours.

   “Wanda! Get off of Y/n right now!” he shouts as he walks closer to you both

   The Omega, startled by the other Alphas presence immediately does as she's told, her eyes gluing themselves to the floor as she prepares to be reprimanded or punished. Your face contorts in concern until you remember Nat is with you, you know she’ll shut Steve up. Before he can get any closer Natasha is in front of him, a deep growl coming from her and he finds himself slightly startled as he had been so focused on the two of you he hadn’t noticed the other Alphas presence.

   “Nat, what are you-” he begins to say before getting cut off

   “Back off Rogers.” she growls out, causing confusion to show itself on Steves face

   He shakes his head, “They're both Omegas, behavior like that isn't befitting of two Avengers. They have to put a stop to whatever this is, now. And you know that.”

   He goes to move around her but her hand pushes firmly into his chest, stopping him in his tracks. “You won’t be going near them.'' Her tone leaves little room for argument, but Steve isn't known for backing down. He studies her a moment before he glances over her shoulder at you and Wanda, the two of you stand there obviously nervous under his gaze. She sees this and gets even angrier, “Keep your eyes off my Omegas.” she says, shoving his chest.

   “Your Omegas?” he questions as his eyebrows shoot up, nearing his hairline. He tries not to let jealousy overtake him, he’d been interested in you for a few months now.

   “Yes. Mine.” she growls, pulling the collar of her shirt away from her neck, proudly showing off the marks the two of you left. He lets out a huff trying to calm himself, but Nat can sense the anger rolling off him in waves. 

   He shakes his head again, “That doesn't excuse this Natasha. They can’t be together.” his tone is harsh, and your Alpha bites back a snarl at his words

   “Like hell they can’t! They love each other, they love me and I love them. I’m their Alpha and I gave them permission to bond-” she begins to say before being interrupted

   “You let them do what?!” he shouts in disbelief. If you were his Omega he never would have let that occur and Natasha allowing it to happen was a huge mistake.

   Upon hearing all the growls and yelling Yelena, Bucky and Tony appear in the doorway. As soon as she sees her sister guarding you both from Steve she calmly walks into the room and stands beside the redhead. The look she gives the Alpha in front of her is cold and if eyes could kill, Steve would be a dead man.

   “Sestra, nuzhno li mne ustranit' etu problemu?(Sister, need me to remove the problem?)” she asks, tone as cold as her glare

   Nat smirks, “Tol'ko yesli vy khotite, chtoby(Only if you want to.)”

   Bucky hurries over to Steves side before the two blond Alphas start fighting, “Whats the problem here Steve?” 

   “The problem is them.” he says, gesturing to Wanda and you, you both flinch slightly. Yelena and Nat both growl at his tone and words. Buckys brow raises in question as Tony strolls up to the conversation. 

   “Now hold on a moment everyone. Let's take a few deep breaths and a few steps back from each other, alright?” he says as he gestures at the two pairs of Alphas. Nat grunts refusing to budge, so of course Steve stands firm, earning him a sigh from Bucky. “Or not. Someone at least care to fill me in?” Tony adds

   “Natasha let the Omegas back there bond with each other.” Steve says

   “They're my mates! Why does it matter to you what I allow them to do?!” she shouts, Yelenas hand on her shoulder the only thing keeping her from getting in Steves face.

   His fists clench and he sighs, “Because, it’s illegal for them to even be together let alone for them to bond. Not to mention it's unnatural, every Omega needs an Alpha.”

   “They have one dipshit! My sister is their Alpha, try and keep up!” Yelena shouts

   “That very well may be the problem.” he mumbles, and Bucky is really starting to fear for his friends safety.

   “What did you just say?” Nat growls, her eyes stare at him with such intensity that even Tony finds himself sweating.

   “I said you're the problem here Romanoff. They each need a proper Alpha of their own. They shouldn't have to be sharing, well, you.” he tells her, disgust in his tone. Now he had managed to even make you and Wanda mad, Natasha was a proper Alpha. So she was a female Alpha, that wasn’t a big deal to anyone younger than World War 2, Steve was obviously stuck in the past. Bucky however could finally see this for what it really was, his best friend was jealous that the redhead got your attention when he didn’t and he was angry that Nat had managed to claim you.

   Natasha growls at his words but she tries to let them wash over her, she tries not to partially believe that maybe he was right, maybe she wasn’t good enough for both or even one of you. 

   Yelena however, oh Yelena strikes. Her fist connects with Steves jaw with a crunch and surprisingly the super soldier stumbles back slightly. Tony flinches as he watches the punch and Bucky is quick to place himself in front of his friend, making his focus go from the two Russians to him instead. At least that was the plan, plans don’t always go accordingly though.

   A growl leaves Steve as he stands back up, nursing his split lip. “Now Steve, just hang on for a second ok? I think Yelena was well within her merits for that hit.” Bucky says

   Tony nods, “You did deserve it, you were quite rude to Nat.”

   “Telling the truth isn’t being rude.” he hisses through gritted teeth, attempting to push past Bucky, but Bucky holds him in place with his metal arm. 

   “What exactly are you getting at Rogers!?” Nat yells, her patience is incredibly thin at this point

   “Y/n deserves better than to have to settle for you as her Alpha! I could take much better care of her than you ever could! And if she was mine, I’d make sure she never saw you or Wanda ever again!” he roars. Wanda looks scared and she grabs a hold of your arm tightly, like Steve might rip you away and claim you for his own at any second.

   Natashas anger is incredible, “Y/n is my Omega, not yours! She chose me, they both chose me! Not you Steve, me! You will never take her away from Wanda or me and if you ever try I swear with everything in me that I will rip your head off!”

   Steve growls ready to fire back, but Buckys patience has run out. “That's enough Steve. Y/n’s made her choice, you have to accept it. Natasha is their Alpha and if she's alright with it then we really have no say in the matter.”

   “It’s not just about that! Stark, help me out here.” Steve looks to the billionaire

   “Don’t look at me. You dug yourself into this hole and at this point you're even burying yourself in it. Yeah, sure, technically it's illegal, but we all know that's a load of bullshit the Alpha lawmakers just don’t want to change because it potentially means less Omegas to mate with.” he replies

   “But they-” he begins

   Tony has also had enough of this and he can tell you and Wanda are incredibly uncomfortable and scared “Alright that's enough from everyone! The Omegas are absolutely petrified right now! Nat you take care of them, Steve stay the hell away from them. Bucky, keep him in line and Yelena, kick his ass if need be.”

   At Tonys words Natasha turns to you and Wanda and her face falls when she sees tears streaming down both of your faces as Wanda clutches onto your arm like her life depended on it. She hated that Steve was able to work everyone up like this instead of just accepting who you chose. She supposes it's not that easy though, she probably would be acting similarly if the roles were reversed. 

   Bucky manages to get Steve to leave with him and Yelena starts beating a punching bag to relieve some of her frustrations. Leaving Tony to watch your Alpha as she nervously watches the two of you instead of approaching.

   “Go on, they need you right now.” he tells her

   “What if he was right, what if I’m not a good enough Alpha for them?” she worries

   Tony places a hand on her shoulder and she looks at him, “Then two Omegas wouldn’t have let you claim them. They obviously think very highly of you to bond with you. And for Yelena to punch Steve, she must think you're something special. And you know what Nat, they're right.”

   She smiles, “Thanks Tony, I needed to hear that. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to take care of my mates.” He smiles as he watches her walk over to you both, enveloping you in a tight hug.

   She quickly gets the two of you back to Wandas room and settled in the nest. The three of you decided to make her room your permanent one for the three of you because you all wanted to keep the nest that was covered in the scents of all three of you from your first night together. 

   Wanda still has a tight grip on your arm so you gently cup her cheek and bring her gaze to yours, “It’s ok baby. I’m not going anywhere, Tasha made sure of that.” 

   “Yelena, Tony and Bucky too.” Nat adds, gently smiling at both of you.

   But Wanda still looks upset. “I was afraid he would take her from us.” she admits

   Your Alpha quickly brings you both close to her, “I’d never let that happen. I love you both so much.”

    “We love you too.” you and Wanda reply

   The three of you get comfortable and your Alpha turns on some sitcoms for Wanda to enjoy. You stay snuggled like that for a few hours, until there's a knock at the door. Nat gets up and opens it to find Bucky and Steve standing there, upon seeing the blond her lip curls in a snarl.

   “Why is he here?” she snaps

   Bucky raises his hands, “Easy Nat. I wouldn’t have brought him here if he meant any harm, you know that.”

   She nods, “Ok. So he’s here because?”

   “Because I’m sorry. I was very rude to you and I frightened your Omegas. I just…I really thought Y/n was it for me, and that doesn't excuse my behavior at all. I just wanted it known that I was running on jealousy and instinct earlier instead of using my head.” he explains

   “Yeah I kinda figured as much. I appreciate the apology, give us some time and I’m sure we’ll be able to forgive you as long as this was a one time thing.” she says

   “It was. Tell Wanda and Y/n that I’m sorry. They make a cute couple, and they deserve to be happy and not let my words or anyone else's hinder that happiness.” he replies

   “I’ll tell them. See you around Steve. Though you might want to stay away from Yelena for a while.” she says with a smirk

   He smiles, “Don’t worry, I learned my lesson. Don’t mess with Natasha or you get Yelena.” He and Bucky turn and walk off as Nat shuts the door and makes her way back to the nest.

   She fills the two of you in on the conversation and the two of you seem much more relaxed now. You both purr as you settle back into her and resume watching the sitcom. You spend the rest of the night cuddled together until sleep washes over you all.

Taglist: @wandaromamoff69 @when-wolves-howl @danveration @sheneonromanoff @sayah13 @likefirenrain @nighttime-dreaming @chaoticevilbakugo @crystalstark02 @wackymcstupid @lovelyy-moonlight @blackwidow-3 @mistressofinsomnia @that-one-gay-mosquito @yomamagf @yourfavdummy @justarandomreaderxoxo @scoutlp23-blog @whoischanelle15 @lissaaaa145 @eline03 @wizardofstories@imthenatynat @marvelonmymind @fluffyblanketgecko @bitch-616 @dakotastorm @zoomdeathknight @aeroae @sashawalker2 @maggieromanov @doveromanoff @mommyluvu @404-almostdone @tarathia @ayoungexwife

[cybsoo2]

my obsessive fan (pt.2)

╰┈➤ synopsis — After weeks of watching from afar, they finally have a chance to meet you for the first time.

╰┈➤ pairing — yandere!bts x idol!reader

╰┈➤ word count — 3.9k

╰┈➤ content warning — yandere behavior, stalker behavior, mention of manipulation, talk of religion, violent thoughts

ੈ♡₊˚｡ back to ⇢ pt.1

ੈ✩‧₊˚ note ; hi!! i'm on vacation and don't have a lot of free time, so i'm sorry this took so long to write a 2nd part.

—Kim Seokjin

Ever since Jin set his sights on you, he knew he had to have you

No matter what anyone says, he knew deep in his heart that you were his and he was yours

It’s because of this reason that Jin started to build a certain type of entitlement towards you

His jealousy only grows every time he has to suffer through your interactions with anyone that isn’t him

Dark desires carve themselves deep into his chest

He takes control of your life from afar

Chasing away the cheap bitches and bastards that get to close

Spreading his sweet lies with easy eyes and a silver tongue

However, watching you from afar soon starts to summon a certain type of sadness

He weeps while watching his darling hold undesirables so dear to her heart

He grows tired of talking with your mutual friend, keeping up a facade that threatens to fall

And he takes out his torment on anyone around him until it almost tears his life apart

After all this waiting, he takes fate into his own hands and forces himself into your life

He sweet talks a friend who just happens to be your fellow member

Conversations too close for comfort, a few flirtatious remarks, and looking up at her through heavy-lidded eyes

Jin has always found it amusing how flattery and corrupt kisses have given him everything he’s always wanted

So when he mentions meeting you in passing, of course your member says yes

When the end of the week arises, he suddenly feels himself growing sick

Sweaty palms, cold shivers, and a set of nerves that burn deep into his brain

Despite his aching anxieties that ricochet in his head, he hides his fears behind black jeans and a dainty dress shirt

He walks the way to your dorm while drowning in sick thoughts

Desperate to disguise his sick self and make a memorable impression

This moment truly determines which direction your relationship will run

When he reaches the door to your dorm, he holds his breath before knocking two times

It only takes three seconds before you’re answering the door and dawning a soft smile on your face

Your excitement is contagious and he can’t help himself from letting a subtle grin slip

You two connect almost immediately

He lets you take the lead, only chiming in to agree with everything you say or complement you kindly

His quick wit and easy-going attitude keep the talk going for hours on end

He coats the conversation in his charms

Sweet talking until you settle into silence

Even when the conversation is cut quiet, your bodies talk calm and comfort

The clock strikes 12 and your day together has come to an end

Jin feels himself drifting into depression with every step towards the door he takes

His bones grow hard and heavy, falling into the floor right when he arrives home

30 minutes pass by and his pulse still skyrockets at the thought of your smile

He doesn’t need hope, he knows that you’ll never forget him

Your souls syncing into one almost instantly

It’s safe to say this isn’t the last time you’ll be seeing him

—Min Yoongi

These days, Yoongi has found himself drowning in the depths of a dull and depressing lifestyle

Unmotivated and uninspired, his lyrics hold no passion and his raps feel lost without rhythm

His weeks are blue and begin to blur together

Lost along his way, without purpose or passion to guide him

That is, until he met you

When you walked into his studio one Sunday morning, he felt something shift 

Rendered speechless, he stumbled over his sentences when coming to a deal with your manager

You were a new and unknown artist looking for a new lyricist

You had heard word of an underground rapper who wrote songs for those worth the time and effort

You chose him, you wanted him, and you needed him

A rushed agreement left his lips and a contract was signed with a scarlet signature

You passed the pen over to him, hand skimming across his

A shiver of affection ran rampant in his heart

After he signs, he pockets the pen for what he calls ‘sentimental value’

His eyes watched as you wandered the studio

Fingertips touching the keys of his piano, the papers plastered across his desk, and the hoodie he left hanging over his chair

A lovesick sensation shakes him to his core

He’s feeling feverish from you way you walk around his office as if it’s your own

You make yourself comfortable as your staff talks money and meetings

You sit in his seat, curious eyes wandering his way

When you gave him a simple smile he swore he’d been burned by the sun

His moment is ruined when your manager opened his mouth

Yoongi had begun to tune out most of his talking, but when he suggested you sing one of his songs to test out this team up, he jumped at the opportunity

You shut yourself in the sound booth and wait while Yoongi searches through his songs

He rummages for the lost lyrics

A love song is what he looks for, the perfect portrayal of what you mean to him

He finds the lyrics scattered across the floor

Dusting them off, he hands them over

You sing a hypnotic harmony, bringing justice to the lyrics that once looked so dull

Your meet eyes every minute, almost as if you want to say thank you

Trying to tell him with quick glances how much he means to you (how much this chance means to you) 

And in that moment, no one else mattered but you

That very day, you lit a fire inside him

Fueling his inspiration and feeding his inner romantic

From then on all his attention is on you

He dropped all his other degenerate clients

Closed the door in their faces and threatened to set fire to their careers if they ever disturbed him again

His lyrics became lovelorn

The characters in his songs so eerily alike to you and him

You’re his pure purpose in life; his passion and pleasure

His life does a full 180º, now rotating with you as the center

He needs you

And he’s happy that you need him just as much

—Jung Hoseok

Hoseok first met you through a rushed conversation in a crowd

Every since then his reality has been rapidly warped

It’s a fairytale still fresh in his mind

He can recount his raw emotions, your subtle smell of fragile flowers, and how the light hit you just perfectly, giving you a heavenly halo

You knelt down near the edge of the stage, out of breathe and taking a small break

Your eyes fluttered over the fans, a proud smile plastered on your face

Your breathe came out in short gasps, heart beating through your shirt, and sweat sliding off your body

Red rises to his cheeks just remembering the memory

He had his eyes locked on you, as they always are

The only new exception being the camera screen that captured the sight

Recently he had taken up the hobby as a way to earn a wage while not sacrificing the time spent on you

His fan page flourished all the mass of fans could feel his passion through the screen

One night, as he almost fell asleep to the sound of your soothing voice, you said his name!

You said his name, spoke it like a silver string tumbled off your tongue

Whispered the word like lyrics leaving your lips

His hands started to shake and his heart suddenly stopped

You then went on to talk about his fan page and how much attention you where getting because of the viral videos

That memory is a distant sense of deja vu as now you beckon him closer with a wave of your hand

You draw him in through the dense crowd, an invisible string tied around your finger

“Hey! It’s Hobi right?”

Hoseok nods his head hesitantly, almost unsure whether this is a dream or not

“I thought I recognized you, you run one of my fan pages don’t you? I’m flattered really, that you take all the time just to support me. Here,”

You pull out a red rose from the bouquet 

It’s a pretty present from your first win with a new song

You take the rose and hold it out to him, tilting it up so he can smell

He inhales the fragrant flower, but all he can smell is the surviving scent of your perfume

It’s something sweet, just like you, with notes of floral and fruit

He takes the flower between two fingers, running the tips of his touch over the stem, trying to tell if it’s real

You let out a laugh at his awe-struck appearance and tell him, “Be careful or you’ll cut yourself on the thorns.”

You show care by caution, a subtle sign the you feel something for him

And this red rose is a perfect representation of your relationship

You hide off to the side, away from the rest of your group that sings the encore

Sitting under the shadows you give him a show of your affection, then leave before anyone else can catch on

Hoseok understands your intentions, but he also knows that because of your job he can’t be with you

So he’ll continue to support you from the sidelines, only surviving on a sliver of your love and the hope to one day have you as his own

—Kim Namjoon

The fall day is fleeting

Snow threatens to suffocate the dying daffodils

It tumbles down from the tips of the mountain top, casting it’s cold nights and dreadful days over anything that still clings to color

The summer solstice is long since passed, and along with it goes his hopes and happiness

Namjoon finds himself still hanging on to the hot embers and raw embrace of his last relationship

He’s lost along the path, pleading with the gods and guardians to give him one last chance

He’s taken to a temple, high up in the mountains where sorrow cannot escape his sight

Namjoon cannot help but feel as if his god has lead him astray

Taken through twisting turmoil and tortured relationships

The dawn of a new December draws near

It’s cruel and cold, leaving Namjoon to linger on what his life used to be

His grasp on his guide is slipping

Religion runs rampant along the trail

Faith falling out of his hands if this last resort doesn’t give him some sort of sign

The temple is now near

Faceless people peer into the wishing well

He’s focused on only one thing, pushing through the crowd to meet his final moment

The do or die, a deciding factor on which way his life will lead him

He crawls up closer, hand held out with an offering

He’s just about to say his prayer and send off his present, when he collides into someone and the coin is falling through the cracks in the concrete

For a second, everything is silent

His heart hammers in his chest, heartbroken over the harrowing result of the test

He comes to the conclusion that his faith has failed him

Dragging him down deep through the mud and making his life a living hell

His god has gone and abandoned him… but a velvety voice breaks through his disbelief

He looks up and shining down on him is your sweet smile

Perhaps he hasn’t been abandoned, just lead to a new beginning

Yes, this is a sign, he’s so sure of it

You apologize for bumping into him like the angel you are

You take his two hands and help him up from where he’s fallen

Namjoon nods along to whatever you say, watching as you ramble off in embarrassment

He’s too shocked to be graced by a goddess to form a fragment of a thought

And just when his tongue is untied and thoughts untangled, you leave just as quickly as you came

The word ‘wait’ tumbles off his tongue, falling flat at his feet and off into oblivion

He sees your shadow walking off into the woods

You creep into the crowd, your figure floating further away from him

A fraying string of fate attaches you two

He feels compelled to to find you, to follow you, and never let you go

You’re a gracious god, guiding the way and giving him hope

He’ll worship you until ticking time wastes him away

—Park Jimin

He can’t contain his fiery fury

Jimin is a slave to sin and submits so easily to anger

He’s wrapped up in wrath

Biting down on his tongue, the pressure too much that blood begins to pool

Yet the pain serves as a desperate distraction

Such a pathetic thought to think that a single soul can cause this much distress

But that’s the truth, because just the sight of the bitch sets his heart ablaze

She sits in front of you, leaning forward to show off her scorpion smile

Licking her lips and teasing the thought of a killer kiss

She flirts shamelessly, as if she actually has a chance

Jimin knows you like sweet things, unlike the toxic slut that slides her high heels up your thigh

You’ve said it before, 3 months ago in a live, you like someone with innocent intentions

Jimin is torn into two people

On one hand, he wants to beat the bitch bloody until she can’t breathe

On the other, he knows he’ll make a scene and scare away any chance of your affection

He’s knows his best bet, so he swallows down his disgust and puts on a paper smile

Jimin’s turn is coming up next and he collects his items

His bank account now bare as he spend everything he had on albums, merchandise, and fan-meets

Photocards and poster papers are delicate in his hold

Sweat staining the edges as a wave of anxiety rushes over him

He counts down the seconds, wishing for time to turn faster

He traces the tips of his fingers over the image of you, imagining what it would be like if it were reality

Your fair features and the pain pulsing in his jaw are all to divert his attention from the scene going on at his side

The girl is finally getting up to go, but not before writing down her number in a pitiful attempt to be your plaything

His angry eyes are set on her silhouette

Finding her flaws and trying to shot through her head with his stare

His jealousy is a dangerous thing, a driving force that’ll ruin his life if he isn’t careful

So distracted from his fury, he surprised to hear your voice force itself into the silence

“Are you okay?”

Blood drips down his lips

He tore them up with his teeth, trying to bite back his spite and keep some self-control

He immediately apologizes, as if it’s something to be sorry about

Next thing you know he’s thrusting his papers in your hands and hoping you don’t hate him

The day is barely past 12 but already it’s ruined been by red

You try to sneak subtle glances his way and give him looks of concern, confusion, disgust, despair?

Your many masks are blurred together till’ he can’t decide if you’re upset or unaffected

These frowning faces fight against him

Tearing up his insides and taunting him with voices that say, “You messed everything up. She can’t stand the sight of you. You can’t keep it together.”

Imitate insecurities are transformed into truth

Jimin sees your face and that upside down smile, and he’s running away from the invisible issue

He gets up so fast, the chair falling to the floor with a metal clank

He doesn’t bother grabbing any of his albums

Rushing out the door with his eyes running red and tears trailing off behind him

Jimin is growing weary and worn down by the second person in his skin

Sunk deep into the dawn and smothered in sin

He’s tired of his twin always ruining his chances and wrecking his relationship with you

But Jimin is so stubborn and would do anything it takes to make you smile, even if it ends up killing him

—Kim Taehyung

Taehyung’s first time meeting you was anything but an accident

He knows wherever you are, from the time when the sun meets the mountains, to when the sky is suffocated in darkness

Lately, he’s been growing rather restless and irrational

An ache sets fire to his soul

Suffocating on the smell of your smoke he can’t seem to catch

His passion pains him, and he’s plagued with dreams of your distant touch

You’re so close yet so far

He makes up his mind on a moonlit morning

Months of walking in your faded footprints, he’s your silent shadow

Your schedule is now imprinted in his mind

He plans out the perfect day

He’ll come into the cafe you frequent, cause some chaos, and when he has your attention, he’ll cherish the moment

The autumn day arrives and he hides away

Standing up against the wall at the back of the cafe, he has a perfect view of anyone that dares walk through the door

He’s hasty and impatient

Constantly checking his watch and looking back up at the door

His hold tightens on his hot tea, heat transferring and burning into his blood

He checks his watch once more, but this time when he looks up, he hears bells ringing

He makes a double-take and his feet are flying before he can think twice

Taehyung comes crashing into you, spilling his tea and staining your shirt

He rushes apologies already rehearsed

He takes your hands in his and wipes off the mess with a rag already prepared in his pocket

Once your skin is no longer stained, only stinging with the past pain, he passes you the rag so you can clean off your shirt

Taehyung offers to order you another coffee, his treat because of the mess he made

Clueless and lovelorn, Taehyung takes your order without asking you what you wanted

Your order is taken down to a tee

When you ask how he knew what you liked, he said it was an impossible accident

The unlikely lie slipped out before he had time to think

Tripping up over your accusatory eyes and confused question

Perhaps Taehyung isn’t meant to stick to your side

Better off stalking in your shadow and reminiscing on the remains 

He’s too naive and boyishly bold

Although he may know this truth deep down in his heart, he’s unable to act within reason

He has an ideal image of love

An image that lingering in his head ever since he was a child

You’re his only dear darling and he’ll just have to persuade you with his passion

No matter how much time it takes, no matter how often he fails

He’s a restless romantic and he can’t help it

—Jeon Jungkook

A rush of adrenaline and affection runs red like blood in his body

Your performance was perfect!

And he can’t believe he saw your sweet smile from just behind the barricade

He watched you glide with grace across the stage, grabbing the audience’s attention with just one look

But when your eyes locked, he felt as if you two were only ones in the room

You’ve enchanted him, intertwining your souls into two

He feels himself following your every move, reaching out to run his hand over yours when you handed out high-fives

His skin burns red with a blush

Blistering blood pumping hot to his head

His whole face is on fire and he feels as if he might faint

If this is the state just your skim of skin has struck upon him, he doesn’t know how he’ll handle meeting you in person

He’d spent all last night restless and rummaging around in his head for anything else forgotten

He planned and prepared for months in advance, after all, the first meeting is when memories are made

He spoke his script into the mirror, stumbling over words and stressing over sentences

He ripped up and rewrote his conscripted confession three thousand times over

It needed to be perfect

Now, as the crowd creeps off into the night, he mumbles over his love letter

The minutes melt away while waiting for those in line to leave

Now he’s the next one to meet his muse

He stumbles to sit in the silver chair and looks up to lock eyes

All his words are washed away when your attention is on him

The page concluding pure passion and perfectly written words is now crumpled in his hands

His knuckles whitening, attempting to get a grasp and spit out the words he wants to speak

You ask him how he is, how far he traveled for the concert, is he okay?... Why isn’t he talking?

He sits in silence, brain burning up and and a blush coating his cheeks

The hole in his head keeps him from forming a thought

It’s only when you’re signing his album and the meeting has almost met its end, when his heartfelt words begin flowing from his mouth

“I love you.”

The confession is quiet at first, hesitant as he waits for your response

“I love you too! I appreciate all of my fans so much. Thanks for coming to the concert.”

You say a simple response, rehearsed a thousand times but for a different reason

Forced to respond to any request and comply with the compliments

You look at him like a fan, like one of the thousands of faceless people that came before him

Don’t you understand? This isn’t some type of friendship or fleeting crush

He can’t sleep when you’re sick, can’t function when you’re frowning, and can’t live if he can’t love you

He’s bound by your side till time takes his heart

He’s a slave to your sweet smile and the whispered words that make his knees weak

Jungkook is more than just a lovesick man, he’s pierced by passion and won’t let you leave

A simple saying isn’t enough, he needs to show you how his heart beats and breaks only for you

“You’re not understanding. I love you.”

He leans over the table and takes your hand in his

You tense under his towering figure, yet Jungkook is too immersed in his speech to tell

“You’re everything to me. The reason worth living. I love you, I love you so much-”

His words become warped as he grows erratic

His rehearsed confession is now corrupted, growing messy and mushed together

He’s eager to get out the words before anyone else can interrupt

“I’d do anything for you. I don’t care if you hate me or hurt me, just let me love you.”

The security guards are scrambling to send him away, but it takes the strength of ten men to pry his hands from yours and pull him off the table

As they drag him away and the steel doors shut, you still hear his voice ringing out with all the reasons he love you

© cybsoo2 2024, all rights reserved

[garforprongs]

just a smooch

[novelconcepts]

I’m so torn, because part of me wants Tai and Van to remain an unhealthily-bonded force to be reckoned with the entire time they’re in the wilderness. I want them to repress all the shit they’re not talking about, hide it all under physical contact and standing shoulder to shoulder against the world. I want them to pretend they’re fine, trick themselves into thinking it’s working as the weather grows warmer and the society they’ve built steadies. I want them to believe their love can outshine their toxic habits.

But the other part of me keeps thinking how DELICIOUS a messy gay breakup in the woods where they both still love and crave one another would be. Think of the yearning. Think of the sexual tension. Think of how intense it would be for them to go head to head at last, Believer vs. Skeptic, and how wild the inevitable crash would shake out. They can’t escape each other. They still need each other to survive. Van’s not gonna let Taissa sleepwalk alone and Taissa’s not gonna want to let Van go full Lottie without supervision. Think of how fucking taaaaasty that dynamic becomes when they both let themselves actually FEEL what their relationship lacks. Liv and Jasmin would fucking kill it and us and I kind of want it.