#( i contemplated messaging you several times during writing this like . . . )

[yzzart]

Tom Blyth being really fucking obsessed with actress!Reader, like constant physical contact, many kisses, maybe some moments on set? I love your writing 💖

"Oh, the lovebirds."

pairing: tom blyth x actress!reader.

summary: another compilation between you and tom? we have!

word count: 538!

notes: thank you for requesting this, anon and i hope you know that i love you and beg you to request more ideas!

"See them over there?" — Recording and switching the camera to frontal mode, Rachel pointed to you and Tom sitting under the tree, in the forest setting, together. — "Two lovebirds in love." — Tom's arm was around your shoulder, he was saying something that was, technically, impossible to identify, but then he left a long kiss on your forehead. — "Look!"

Rachel saved that video with a triumphant, happy smile on her face in an album she had made specifically for behind the scenes and it was the thousandth video of you and Tom that she had saved. — The first and biggest fan of both of you.

It wasn't difficult, and not at all complicated, to find behind-the-scenes photos of 'The ballad of songbirds and snakes'; so soon, it wasn't hard to see photos and videos of you and Tom together on set. — So much for you posting and Rachel too.

There were videos where he put Coriolanus' peacemaker helmet on you; your hands between his rough and cut hair, commenting on the possibility of him temporarily turning blonde;; a photo they took of him and him lying on the grass. — Several moments recorded, captured and saved with lots of love.

Also, the small and peculiar fact that you left written messages or just heart symbols on paper, sometimes torn up, for each other. — Hunter thought this was cute, and she even helped Tom put one of them in your trailer.

In every interview, to repeat, in every interview, Tom always tries to be in contact with you; mainly, the physical. — It doesn't matter if your chair is a little far from his, or if you or he are on the other side of the row. — Nothing can stop that man.

The cameras record, with attention and great focus, Tom holding your hand while you answered questions from the interviewer, who was also watching, and admiring the rings that were present on your fingers; and that some were gifts from him. — If Tom had the opportunity, he would never let go of you.

He contemplated carefully; distributing affection with his fingers on your hand and your palm, at certain moments, even tickling you and, sometimes during the interviews, a brief laugh accompanied your words.

And every time it happens, that passionate smile wrapped in such a strong emotion curves on Blyth's lips.

Well, it's not just the contacts and touches between your hands that are captured by cameras and the watchful eyes of fans; Tom's arm resting on the back of your chair, your leg touching his, your head on his shoulder and once again Tom's hand resting on your knee. — You looked like a pair of magnets.

Oh, and not to mention, a moment from an interview, another one from Vogue to be a little specific, in which Tom removes one of the rings that was on his fingers, the one that is always on his pinky, and decided to put it on your finger. — God, your fans went completely crazy on all social media, especially on Twitter. — It wasn't so perfect, in the right measure, but you didn't remove it in any way.

During the premieres, several photos with you kissing Tom's cheek and him kissing your hand, like a knight, spread across networks and even on the film's official accounts. — And Rachel commented on all of them. — And the photos that show Tom's hands on your waist, holding you so gently accompanied by such a sweet and intimate look and following you wherever you went became your favorites.

Flashes and snippets of interviews, videos of Tom's hand on your back, helping you with your long dress and him brushing some locks out of your face while you answered questions. — Even the interviewers smiled witnessing those acts.

And there's always a like from Tom Blyth on Instagram posts of these photos.

[sunderingstars]

don't be a coward, roll the dice 🎲

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ DICE ROLL #43 — A BLOODY KISS ⌝

based on this post!

word count: 1.4k

what the stars reveal: boothill x reader, gn!reader, boothill calls reader "darlin'," slight mentions of blood, i'm allergic to not putting a Narrative™ in everything i write

— thank you for the excuse to write angst cheerisse >:3

Three days. That’s how long it had been since Boothill told you he’d return. Three long, grueling, torturous days. You thought you’d be used to it by now — the stretches of time he went radio silent for one reason or another, flickering out of your life like a candle. Yet, it was impossible to truly release.

Despite occupying such an important role in his life, a partner in all its meanings, it was so easy for him to dissipate, to leave wisps of smoke behind as his flame dwindled. It was the fleeting nature of a Galaxy Ranger, you knew, but you couldn’t understand. What was the point of making you worry? What was the point of those sleepless nights? 

On day one you had forced yourself to be patient. Quiet. You molded yourself to the chair at your workstation and sat, eyes roaming over the bits of machinery and time-worn tools scattered about. Once in a while, you’d even let yourself tinker with a piece or two, just to make sure everything was ready for his arrival. You had an important job after all; not just the maintenance of his body, but of his soul and mind. Nothing was quite as sweet as the moments your eyes met while tuning him.

But the second day began to gnaw at you. Twist, in your stomach, like snakes. Their sour venom began to leak into your mind, swirl your worries in a cocktail of potential tragedies, and you contemplated sending him a message. Just one. Enough to ease your mind, to let him know a small blip of you was waiting for him back home. After a few hours of pacing back and forth in your shared kitchen, you worked up the determination to do it.

… No response. Not at dinnertime, not in the evening, and certainly not in the early hours of the morning — most of which you lay painfully awake during. Only the cruel static of a blank screen remained, blinking once, twice, as it tried and failed to reach him among a sea of stars.

The third day was the worst. Everything seemed to compound, balloon out in your mind to the point it began to seep into other parts of your being. You bounced your leg, bit your fingernails, peeled at your lip without even registering it. Eventually, you made your way to the storage closet for some whiskey, if not to take the edge off then to at least give your mouth a diversion.

You had just popped open a bottle when you heard a clank. Immediately, you stilled. Listened again. The bottle, prone, hung in your grip.

Clank. 

It was outside, not in.

You were out the door faster than you could blink, legs weaving around rocks and brush as you trampled anything too small to get caught on. The sun was beginning to set, casting the arid landscape in darkening hues of pink and gold, but you knew this place like the back of your hand; the lengthening shadows did nothing to stop your pursuit. Under normal circumstances, you’d be more concerned about threats — wild animals, loose tools, even the stray IPC guard who managed to track down your location, but you didn’t care about any of that now. Not when Boothill was on the line. 

So you persisted. Drew closer to the noise as much as you could, eventually picking up an increase in frequency and the soft humming of a tired engine. You squinted. Then, you almost collapsed in relief; trundling down the paved dirt road was a motorbike. Boothill’s motorbike. It was a ghost of its former self, laden with loose parts and constant stuttering and a headlight practically severed from the rest, but it was his. 

Not wanting to waste any more time, you picked up your pace with a clear destination in mind. It’s not like he could properly run you over anyways. You were surprised the thing was even moving. 

“Boothill?” you called into the dusk. Out-of-breath and ragged, your mind began to filter through your fears, fearing silence, fearing stillness.

However, as the silhouette slowly resolved into familiarity, so too came a voice that pricked tears at your eyes.

“Yes, darlin’?”

Whatever sharp spark of anger coasted through your chest at the causal response fizzled into nothing once you laid eyes on his face. That signature smile, those red-tinted eyes, all backlit against the rays of a dying sun. Healthy. Whole. Alive. Once again, you felt as though your legs might give out. 

You made it just far enough to lean against the shuddering fuel tank before using the last of your willpower to vault yourself towards the open embrace of Boothill’s chest, wrapping your arms tightly around his torso. A hearty laugh sounded against you.

“Missed me that much, huh?”

You mumbled an unintelligible response. The loud hum of the bike became an irrelevant backdrop to the soft hum of metal and leather, the feeling of machinery quietly whirring against the skin of your cheek. No stutters, no pauses. Unlike the dying corpse below, Boothill was running smoothly. You breathed a sigh of relief.

“Why…?”

You didn’t have to finish your sentence before a sigh crested against the crown of your head. A hand, firm and comforting, came to rest on the back of your neck. “’M sorry, darlin’. Damn phone got busted. I knew you’d worry, but tryin’ to make a call in IPC territory was too risky.”

“It’s okay,” you mumbled, breath hitching in a vain attempt to keep tears from falling. “I’m just happy you’re— you’re safe.”

In your arms, the leather of his jacket shifted. A warm weight pressed to the small of your back.

“Aw,” he cooed, breath fanning across your cheek as he shifted you into a more comfortable position, “it’s alright. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Something about the combination of his words and actions, the familiar smell of gunsmoke and malt clinging to him like home, made it all bubble over. Before you knew it, you were tilting out and up, cupping your hands against Boothill’s cheeks, bringing him home. In the last painted rays of the sun, your lips met in a stroke of vibrant color.

It felt like everything you had wanted over the past half-week — brightness, relief, the surety of something alive and warm against you. An immeasurable weight left with the tear-tracks down your face, each fear dissipating with a new round of wetness. His lips slotted against yours with the ease of practice. Drifted with purpose to wash away your worry. By the time you tasted tang, you thought it must have been you. It wasn’t uncommon for a part of your lips or tongue to get caught in Boothill’s sharp canines, rupturing the skin ever so slightly to form a pinprick of blood. However, it became clear this wasn’t the case when you surfaced for air. 

As your eyes adjusted to the growing darkness, you began to make out faint, dark splatters against your partner’s face.

Fear returned to you in a rush. You hadn’t even checked for flesh injuries when you first saw him, too caught up in the relief of seeing him again. 

“Boothill—” you said, fingers tracking carefully along the edge of his mouth where you could see a blossom of dark blood emerging, “—Boothill!”

The man in question hummed in confusion. Slightly frantically, you traced the pads of your fingers along the edges of the splatter. It was fresh. Oh, Aeons, it was fresh, and you hadn’t even thought—

“Woah, hey.” The low timbre of Boothill’s voice brought you out of your spiral. The hands on your back rubbed soothing circles, the kind he used when trying to calm a horse. “It’s nothin’, darlin’.”

“‘Nothing?’” you asked incredulously.

“It’s not mine, if that’s what you’re askin’.” He shot you an infuriating smile. “A few folks from the corporation got on my nerves, that’s all.” Then, when your skepticism remained: “Promise.”

You bit your lip, trying to tamp down the fluttering revival of fear in your chest. You couldn’t deny it, though — even in the night, the drying splatters clearly arced in a passing motion rather than a bleeding one. For what felt like forever, you focused your eyes on the spot near his mouth, burning it into your mind until it dispelled any doubt. 

Eventually, you slumped, more out of fatigue than anything else. “Okay.”

“Alright?”

“Okay,” you repeated, “but we’re going inside first. And I’m still checking you over.”

Boothill chuckled. “‘Course. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Then, he smiled, and you found yourself silently glad for the darkness, for the ability to see the radiance of the man before you in place of a sun. 

It was beautiful.

© written by sunderingstars. do not copy, repost, translate, modify, or claim my work as your own.

[rainbowmoonstonestories]

Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings | Chapter 15

Chapters: 15/? Fandom: The Sandman (Netflix 2022, minor content from the Comics) Rating: Explicit Relationships Dream of the Endless/Morpheus x F!Reader  Characters: Dream of the Endless/Morpheus, Lucienne, Matthew the Raven, Mervyn Pumpkinhead, Hob Gadling, Death, Rose Walker, The Corinthian, other minor Sandman characters, Original Characters. Warnings: 18+ content (minors DNI), explicit sexual content, POV switching, very long chapters to read. Summary: You always dreamed of becoming a successful Fashion Designer, sharing your creations with the world and making your father proud. But with him being very ill and so many costs solely weighting on your shoulders, things didn’t go as planned and you had to take a different path instead. An interesting offer led you to the elder Alex Burgess and you were hired as a new housemaid for a very good pay. However, your kindness and outstanding empathy convinced the man to give you an additional task for a doubled compensation; gaining the trust of Dream Of the Endless, held captive into the basement for over a century. Despite the shock of finding such an ethereal entity stripped of all his clothes and contained into a confined space, you had to accept for the sake of your father. But the more you got to speak to the mysterious anthropomorphic personification who didn’t utter a single word, the more you were lost into his eyes that, conversely, seemed to contain the entire universe. A deep connection formed between the two of you, separated only by a thick layer of glass.

Little did you know, what started like a simple housemaid job was about to change your life forever.

Credits: The moon dividers were made by firefly-graphics

Tagging: @number-0-iz, @emarich7, @jaziona92. If anyone else wants to be tagged in the next updates, let me know! I noticed that Tumblr sometimes won't let me tag everyone for some unknown reason, so if it comes to that I can at least send you a message to notify you.

You can also read this on AO3 if you feel more comfortable!

Warning: This chapter includes some detailed smut.

As the upcoming fashion show loomed and your days became increasingly packed, you found scant time to contemplate anything else. However, the emergence of an unfamiliar figure unsettled you.

Note: I needed to write this now, as I won't have another opportunity later to include Desire again until a certain point. I used the Dreamcast audio as reference again for their interaction.

I honestly don't know if smut can be incorporated during the Vortex part, so I thought to add more of it here.

Hob's eyes widened while gripping his tea cup. Following a few moments of blinking to regain his bearings, he gingerly set his mug aside. Then, fueled by a playful energy, he simulated an explosion by placing his hands around his head and even supplied his own sound effects.

With a smile and a nod of your head, you echoed his sentiments. "It's mind-blowing, I know"

"I might be an immortal, Shortcake, but you have your fair share of supernatural roots.”

"We are definitely not your everyday humans," you agreed, bursting into hearty laughter.

"It must be tough though, isn't it? To know that your mother has been around all this time," he carried on, his tone shifting to a more serious one.

"It is. But, now that I can think about it from a different perspective, I can at least understand why they had to keep it a secret."

It took you several days to digest your newfound revelation, but despite everything, you couldn't stay upset with your father who was merely doing his utmost to protect and care for you.

"You know, Hob, sometimes it feels like I've quantum leaped. It’s as if the reality I'm experiencing now is not the one I used to live in. I know it sounds a bit Star Trek-y, but..."

"No, no, I understand. You've undergone such significant changes recently. It makes me wonder if our dear friend had a hand in all this," he mused.

"Maybe not directly. To be honest, I can't even imagine where I'd be without him.”

Hob gifted you a warm smile, looking at you with a blend of care and understanding. "You truly do love him, don't you?”

"Immensely," you affirmed, your voice teeming with genuine sincerity.

"I could see a remarkable change in him, but I'm certain that you're also to thank for that," He noted thoughtfully.

“I didn’t do anything, really.”

"The only time I tried to get him to confide in me, he shied away. I still don't know exactly how you two met, but he adores you. That much is clear.”

A faint blush quietly spread across your cheeks as you savored your tea. Even though Morpheus typically kept a guarded demeanor, it was comforting to realize that his affection for you was evident to others.

However, an abrupt thought caused you to falter, prompting a moment of hesitation before you ventured to raise the subject. You debated whether it could be inconsiderate to mention it, but your curiosity was as potent as the infamous curiosity that led to the cat's downfall, a sentiment frequently echoed by Ella.

And so, you chose to bring it up.

“Hob, can I ask you something?”

“Of course, Shortcake. What is it?”

You glanced downward, your grip on your cup tightening. "Wasn't it difficult for you, having to see the ones you loved grow old and pass away?"

You almost chastised yourself mentally when you saw a trace of sadness cross his eyes. Nevertheless, he composed himself and provided you with his answer.

"Yes, it was. But not once did I consider giving up on love."

"So you managed to move on, to fall in love again... and again."

"I know where this is going," Hob interjected, disrupting your whirlpool of emotional musings. "I speak from experience when I say that he will never truly be able to move on from you."

"I know that he won't forget. It's just..."

"It’s not comforting, I get it.”

You stared at the tea, its still surface seeming to mirror your somber expression.

"It's stupid. I made my choice fully aware of what I was signing up for.”

"We may understand the consequences, Y/N, but they won't be enough to deter us from getting what we want," Hob declared, his voice a blend of wisdom and melancholy. “Look at me. I could have left this city, even this entire Country, long ago. I could have avoided undue stress and accusations of practicing witchcraft. I could have ceased the charade of pretending to be my own descendant, and yet... I made the decision to stay. To meet new people, knowing that I would never get old.”

A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of your mouth as you listened.

"What's the purpose of immortality if it means spending your life alone? You could follow in my footsteps and ask to never die. Wouldn't that be an interesting adventure?" Hob suggested, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yes, you've brought that up before.”

"Have you given it any thought?”

"No, not yet. I just can't envision myself living forever.”

Could you even bear to remain stationary like Hob did? How would you maintain your friendships, career, and every other aspect of life without the incessant need to explain your lack of aging? You truly admired Hob's perseverance, although it was something you likely wouldn't be able to replicate. The idea of being Morpheus' sole love for all of eternity was enticing, yet the choice to accept immortality was not something you were ready to undertake.

Hob tenderly encircled your wrist with his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. His eyes sparkled with a joyful glint as he regarded you.“You never know, my friend. You never know.”

As more days began to turn into weeks, your workload steadily mounted. The preparations for the fashion show were progressing seamlessly and at a satisfactory pace, yet you could palpably sense the rising tide of disquiet in the atmosphere.

You lost track of the times you had to prevent Ella from nervously scratching her skin. As she repeatedly revised the lineup, her anxiety levels soared to unprecedented heights. The event bore great importance for the company, being the first major show in which the Corbyn&Jones brand was participating. You couldn't really blame her for feeling swamped, considering your situation was quite alike.

Your name was slated to be highlighted as the sole creator of the show's exclusive collection, and Ella had discussed the potential this could have in advancing your career as a designer, along with the enormity of the situation that was just now beginning to sink in.

At last able to take a respite from the organizing, you sauntered towards the lounge area with some coffee, hoping to replenish your energy. As you entered the room, you noticed one of your colleagues, Freya, absorbed in her tablet, barely acknowledging your arrival. She appeared to be immersed in deep thought, sighing from time to time, projecting an aura of concern and distress.

She was known for her vibrant energy in the office. Seeing her so dispirited now, you couldn't help but intervene.

"Hey Freya, are you okay?" You inquired, cautiously settling next to her.

Oh, Y/N," she responded, turning her head and managing to conjure up a strained smile. "Yes, I'm fine.”

Judging by the faint redness surrounding her eyes, barely concealed by her makeup, it was easy for you to tell that the truth was far from what she claimed.

"No, something's off. Would you like to talk about it?”

She let out another lengthy, wavering sigh. "I... it's nothing, really. It's ridiculous.”

“It’s not ridiculous if it makes you cry.”

Freya offered a self-deprecating chuckle, hastily blinking away the tears welling in her eyes before meeting your gaze squarely.

"I've received an invitation to a friend's wedding,” she disclosed. "It’s happening in two weeks. We've been close since middle school, you see… and I just know that if I decline the invite, she'll lash out at me.”

"Is there a specific reason behind your reluctance to attend her wedding?”

Freya sniffled, taking a moment to collect her thoughts. She then tapped on her tablet's screen and extended the device towards you.

"This is the dress she selected for all the bridesmaids, including me.”

You stared at the image in disbelief, taking in the red monstrosity displayed in front of you. The design itself wasn't inherently ugly, but to say that it was unsuitable for a bridesmaid would be a gross understatement.

"Wait. You’re joking, right? She expects her bridesmaids to wear this?”

She nodded. "I’d look like shit.”

"That’s not true. The problem here is that such a dress is far from an appropriate choice for a wedding. Does she really want her guests to be focused on you ladies when she's supposed to be the center of attention?”

"She's quite controlling and insists on having everything her way, regardless of others' feelings or opinions. She always had a thing for showy stuff, and her wedding is far from modest too.”

You placed the tablet down. "Have you talked to her about it? If her fashion choices diverge significantly from your style and make you feel uncomfortable, she should respect your sentiments.”

"Oh, I have, but she's as stubborn as a mule.”

She was justifiably upset, but beyond that, you could see how appalled she was at the prospect of potentially having to don an attire that simply wouldn't suit her, or any other bridesmaid with a shred of good taste.

"Freya, this isn't right. A good friend should consider the way you feel. I understand that this is her wedding, but she cannot expect all of you to comply without voicing any objections.”

She diverted her gaze, toying with the golden bracelet that adorned her wrist. "Y/N, have you really taken a good look at me?”

“Yes?”

"All my friends could easily pass for magazine models, while I've always been the black sheep in the group. Quite literally.”

You pursed your lips, feeling a surge of heat coursing through your body. "Freya, you don’t realize how incredible and beautiful you are, do you?”

“You don’t need to flatter me.”

Her voice bore a trace of irritation, indicating that she felt somehow offended.

"It's not a matter of needing to, it's simply how I see you.”

She lapsed into silence.

"Listen, if attending her wedding means that you have to wear something you hate, then don't go.”

“I can’t do that, Y/N.”

"Why? Just because she demands your presence? It's clear that she doesn't value your opinion, or you as a person. So why should you care about her reaction if you refuse?”

"It's..." she hesitated. "...not that simple.”

Witnessing her lack of self-assurance was heart-wrenching, especially considering she was one of the first members of the team who embraced you as part of the family from day one. Freya was kind-hearted, humorous, perpetually cheerful, and tackled her job with a positive attitude every single day. Despite her struggles to recognize her own beauty, you couldn't really pinpoint a single flaw in her.

Consequently, realizing that her supposed best friend was the source of her distress and suffering, fueled your resolve to take action, any action, to restore her joy and self-assurance.

"I assume she's chosen red as the color scheme for all of you?”

"Yes, she wants this thing in red."

"What if you opt for a different dress, one that maintains the elegant yet sexy style and color, but without being as revealing?”

"Oh no, she would absolutely go nuts. She's set on this dress, period. That's just how her mind functions.”

You huffed. "Look, Freya, whether you attend her wedding or not is entirely your choice. But you really shouldn't let her exert this level of control over you. Let me try something, I have an idea.”

Her eyes expanded in astonishment. "Wait, what? You're not planning to design something for me, are you?”

“Why not?”

“Uhh…. because you're already swamped with work between our new collections and the show?”

Getting up from the couch, you dismissed her concerns with a wave of your hand. "I can do it in my spare time, it's no trouble at all.”

"But...”

"No buts. Allow me to do this for you. And if you're not convinced, then I'll let the matter rest.”

Freya found herself flustered and at a loss for words, searching for an appropriate thing to say but failing to find one.

In the end, she acquiesced. "Okay.”

"Just give me a few days, I'll create something for you that will spark jealousy among all your friends. Even the bride.”

As you finished your coffee and exited the room, you picked up the sound of her voice uttering your name. She leaped from the couch with all the haste she could gather, bolting after you, her eyes ablaze with a fresh spark of hope.

"How do you do it?” She queried, her breath labored from the unexpected exertion.

You weren't entirely certain about the implication behind her question. “Do what?”

“You're always attentive and take everything to heart. Even when Maya did all those horrible things, you urged us to forgive her and uplifted our spirits.”

You quietly listened.

"How do you manage to be so compassionate in a world like this?”

You didn't require a moment's thought for that, as the answer was an innate response to you. Now, more than ever, you grasped the foundation of something you had always taken for granted, something that had been ingrained in your being since birth.

And for the first time, after many years of believing it to be your worst flaw that would bring nothing but disaster, you felt a wave of pride in possessing it.

Your smile broadened and your eyes shimmered under the soft lighting of the corridor. "It runs in the family.”

In the subsequent week, your inventive mind remained persistently active during your time at home, outside office hours. You functioned much like a machine at full throttle, failing to switch off, with only brief intermissions for meals or nightly rest. Serving as a maid for Alex Burgess had conditioned you for prolonged hours and demanding tasks. But now, your heart and mind were wholly immersed in the endeavor, and you found immense satisfaction in your accomplishments.

One night, you were so engrossed in your creation that you didn't notice Morpheus silently materializing behind you, moving with the stealth of a cat as he cautiously advanced towards your desk. He tuned into the sound of your pencil gliding across the paper with precision, observing how you swept your hair back and tucked it behind your ear, revealing a portion of your neck that he couldn't help but gaze at. He absorbed your occasional hums as you scrutinized your sketch, and the rhythm of your steady breathing that resonated directly with his heart.

When he softly murmured your name, in a low tone like a tender melody, you lifted your head and partially turned in your chair, discovering the King of Dreams standing near you, appearing contemplative and unsure.

The genuine happiness you felt upon seeing him reverberated throughout your room. "Hi!”

Morpheus pouted. As he typically did. Oh, how much you cherished that expression of his.

“You are not in bed.”

You shot him a puzzled glance. "Uh... no. Wait, what time is it?”

As you extended your hand to grasp your phone, unlocking the screen to inspect the LED, you emitted a startled gasp at the sight that greeted you. The white numbers at the top of the display glaringly read 3 AM.

How could you be so absorbed in what you were doing that you didn't even realize it was well past your bedtime?

"Sorry… I was distracted.”

You closed your sketchbook, pushing your chair back to stand up. Morpheus remained immobile, and as you rose to your full height, your lips came close to his.

“You were not in the Dreaming,” he murmured.

Although this wasn't his first time checking on you for burning the midnight oil, it was undeniably the longest you had kept awake in a considerable while. Knowing his worry about the possible repercussions for you, given his past experiences with Nada, a pang of guilt ebbed at you for not being more mindful.

"I know… I lost track of time. I'm getting ready now, promise. Could you wait for me?”

Morpheus nodded in agreement, but held his position without moving.

You brushed his cool fingers with your own, tenderly taking his hands into yours and placing a gentle kiss at the corner of his lips. As always, he softened at your touch, reciprocating your gesture and holding you tighter, his thumbs gently stroking your knuckles.

It was a repeated exchange to which you had become accustomed, but it never lost its charm. His scent, the paradoxical coolness and warmth he exuded, his voice, his mere presence. You craved all of it as much as the air you breathed.

"I'll see you in a bit," you announced, reluctantly releasing him and unzipping your hoodie. The moment you retreated to the bathroom, washing off your makeup, cleansing your face and slipping into the comfort of your nightgown, he had already vanished, evaporated, awaiting you in his realm.

The moment you sank into the mattress, turning off the light and being soothed by the softness of the covers, it was only a matter of minutes before sleep overtook you. You remembered those times when you failed to surrender to your fatigue, the insomnia that Morpheus' imprisonment had caused. It was all gone, nothing more than a distant memory, a story that you hoped no one would ever have to experience again.

You were eager to reunite with him, deep within the Dreaming. A world that felt like home.

When your eyes fluttered open, you found yourself still lying in your bed, your vision gradually adjusting to the darkness. The lights seeping in through the window began to illuminate parts of your room, but as you rolled over, something felt out of the ordinary.

You were unable to discern exactly what was wrong, as everything seemed to be positioned correctly. However, there was an indistinct fuzziness, a sensation of floating that left you questioning the authenticity of your wakefulness.

A dark silhouette emerged at the end of the bed, but before you could react with a heart-stopping scream, you quickly recognized Morpheus, watching you with a dignified posture. You held your breath, barely blinking, awaiting his next move or words.

Then, very quietly, he moved onto the mattress with the agility of a stealthy predator. Yet, you were far from feeling like a frightened prey.

You propped yourself up, the covers sliding down from your chest. "Am I dreaming?”

"You are," he responded, inching ever closer to your form, his right hand tracing the outline of your covered legs.

"You're not an illusion, are you?”

He offered you a faint smile. "No.”

“Good. I’d be disappointed otherwise.”

His hand reached the hem of the covers, shifting them down, further and further, until more of your body was exposed. The nightgown felt peculiarly warm, enveloping you like a cozy bath.

"I'm intrigued. Why choose this setting?”

"I wanted to offer you something more... familiar, for this occasion.”

You chuckled, biting your lower lip as you could already feel the arousal stirring within you. How could you lose your composure in such a way, just by watching his face inching closer to yours?

"And, what exactly is this occasion...?”

Morpheus looked intensely into your eyes, brimming with hunger and love for you.

"You desire me, Y/N," he revealed. "I can sense it.”

As much as you felt inclined to deny it, you realized just how fervently you needed to feel him against you. Given your work commitments and his responsibilities as the King of Dreams, the time you could allocate for each other was rather restricted, let alone for intimacy. Consequently, you were left to savor quick exchanges of affection that only intensified your craving for more.

It was truly maddening, but it couldn't be helped.

And in a way, it was somewhat exciting.

"I could claim that it's not true, but you're in my head right now," you stated, wearing a smile. "And quite frankly, I would never deny you.”

Morpheus moved closer, nudging you back against the mattress with a mere push of his fingers. Your body was under his enchantment, one that you didn't have the slightest wish to break.

"Please, allow me to attend to you.”

You swallowed, feeling your nightgown being lifted, its fabric brushing against your skin as it rolled up.

"What about you?”

"This is your dream," he replied. "All of this, is for you.”

His hands continued to guide the fabric upward until it reached your breasts, allowing it to rest just above your nipples, while he took in the sight of the rest of your body, completely bare, spread out before him like the most delectable of treats.

For a fleeting moment, you wondered about the whereabouts of your underwear, but you conjectured that he might have conveniently made it vanish. Regardless, you had no qualms about it.

“Morpheus-”

“Shh.”

His lips grazed your cheekbone, tracing a path along your jawline, chin, and down to your neck. You felt his middle and forefinger glide down your stomach, lightly tickling your navel and moving lower past your belly. You glanced down, admiring his long digits as they continued their exploration, but just when you anticipated they would venture directly to your sensitive center, they veered off course and moved towards your thigh.

Your breathing quickened, your heart pounded fiercely, and your legs instinctively parted for him when his hand encircled your knee. Your nipples were continuously rubbing against the nightgown, generating an exquisite friction between them and the silky material. His touch was tantalizing, deliberately slow and feather-light, escalating the tension you felt emanating from your core. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he was executing it impeccably well. Never before had you imagined a lustful dream could be so satisfying.

At last, his fingers began to glide forward, and his other hand slipped under the nightgown to cradle the curve of your breast. The sensation you experienced when his thumb just barely swiped over your nipple was electrifying, but the way your body jerked, quivered, and twitched didn't seem to faze him in the least.

Even though your senses were considerably amplified in your dream state, your body had always been especially receptive to a man's touch. Morpheus had ceaselessly demonstrated that your pleasure was paramount above all else, and yet, it continued to feel incredibly mesmerizing. You couldn't tell if it was owing to his magical essence or an exceptional degree of restraint, but his consistent focus on giving rather than receiving was truly exceptional.

Your fingers gripped the bedsheets when he explored your labia, outlining its shape yet not fully delivering the pleasure you wanted. As his other thumb maintained its attentive caress on your nipple, your back curved gracefully. The sensations were so vivid and intense that you feared you might awaken prematurely, preventing the dream from reaching its climax and interrupting what Morpheus had initiated.

You let out a moan, a curse forming between your teeth as his fingers found your clit, establishing a steady, gentle rhythm that you thought would never suffice, but soon produced that familiar tingle that signaled it wouldn't take long for you to let loose. Even with the most tender of touches, with his fingers lightly stroking your clitoris up and down, sweetly, gently, Morpheus was offering you the universe.

Your legs parted even further, his long coat billowing out behind him, as if intending to enfold the two of you. He paused, guiding one finger towards your entrance, probing it gently to reach your delicate spot inside, akin to pressing a switch to light you up. Your pleasure escalated, not quite enough to trigger your orgasm, but sufficient to make your clit pulse and your whole body tremble in ecstasy. He remained so tranquil, so concentrated, so solemn and silent. You felt as though you were one of his masterpieces, sculpted like a work of art, the most exquisite of dream creatures under his guardianship.

He moved back to your hood, lifting it and stroking his moistened fingers over the sensitive bud underneath, yet again, without increasing his pace or exerting any substantial pressure.

The familiar feeling of satisfaction was approaching, teetering on the brink of release, but just barely eluding your grasp. You brought your hand to his chest, feeling the fabric of his shirt, and moving to his collarbones. Your lips parted, silently pleading to be kissed, only to be instantly met by his own in a sensual and heated choreography.

The Moonstone pendant served as a beacon, enveloping both of you and your environment in its radiant blues and whites. It was so potent that tiny particles of light emanated from it, creating a protective halo around you.

"You're amazing," you confessed against his mouth. "Has anyone ever told you that?”

Morpheus seemed momentarily speechless, pausing his movements, but keeping his fingers connected to your core.

"That is not a word I have often heard used to describe me.”

Your head flopped back onto the pillow, feeling defeated. "Seriously, what's wrong with everyone?”

"You may be the first to see me as more than just the King of Nightmares.”

"Nightmares? What you’re giving to me right now is far from a nightmare.”

You kissed him again to emphasize your point, reaching for the hand that was securely cupping your breast. "You are Dream of The Endless. My Dream.”

He inhaled shakily as his eyes gleamed, and his fingers resumed their ministrations on your clit. Despite their touch maintaining a consistent tenderness, barely grazing your skin, the rhythm of his movements hastened. Processing it was unfeasible as the slick strokes rapidly kindled the sparks, triggering your orgasm to erupt beneath his fingertips. It surged up to the nipple he persistently stimulated, and dispersed into a serene state of bliss.

It might have been a dream, but it felt unequivocally spectacular.

He patiently waited for your pleasure to subside, and then, he retracted his hands from you. He grasped the wrinkled fabric of your nightgown, pulling it down, the creases miraculously straightening as it outlined the contours of your body.

Your haziness was intensifying, indicating that the Waking World was beginning to reclaim you. You resisted it, maintaining your focus on him as he observed you, clenching your hands into fists and drawing in a deep breath to anchor yourself.

You felt fulfilled, satisfied, and thoroughly cared for.

However, he did not.

Despite his desire to make everything solely about you, you couldn't accept it as fair. Therefore, you shifted yourself into a more vertical position, tugging the Endless towards you by his coat. This movement prompted him to position himself above you, taking care not to impose his entire weight on your smaller frame.

"Y/N-"

"Shh.”

This time, the roles were reversed, and it was you who hushed him to continue.

"I understand that you wanted this to be about me. But, despite it being my dream, we're still in your domain.”

You extended your hand towards the back of his neck, weaving your fingers through his short tresses. "I'm going to wake up soon, but before I do... let me give you something in return.”

You didn't wait for his reply. By the time he parted his lips, your hand was already making its way towards the button of his trousers.

He made no effort to stop you, allowing you to unfasten his garments, unveiling his eager arousal springing forth, ready and needy. How unfair would it be to leave him unattended, untouched, overlooked?

Morpheus was desperate for you, hungering for your touch.

Your nose brushed against his as you maintained your grip around his neck for support (and comfort), and your fingers promptly encircled the head of his member. His legs, straddling you, tensed and stiffened the moment you glided your hand down to the base, only to replicate the motion several more times. As much as it pained you, you couldn't afford the same level of tender and unhurried strokes. At any second, you could be thrust back into your real bed, and you didn't want to risk waking before he reached his own peak.

The way he groaned, so faintly, imperceptibly, holding himself back, was something you found incredibly appealing. You drew him even closer, accelerating your pace, ensuring that all his most sensitive regions were stimulated.

You continued your ministrations, increasing the speed, feeling the pull of the Waking World, akin to invisible ropes winding around you. You resisted once more, concentrating on the moist sounds your hand produced against his hardness, on his lips tenderly brushing yours as soft as a tender brush on a canvas.

You loved every single part of it.

And just when you thought you might not finish in time, that he would be left there alone, unsatisfied, forsaken in his desires, the perfect touch on his tense underside drove him to that delectable edge that you both longed for. His hips jerked forward repeatedly, his eyes clamped shut, his mouth letting out a few low grunts that intermingled with your breath.

In due course, your hand reduced its speed until it ceased entirely, but it remained connected to him as he softened. You gently scratched his scalp with your nails, playfully tousling his hair, and planted a kiss upon his forehead.

You released a joyful laugh when he curved his lips, looking absolutely content and thoroughly satisfied. You went on to pepper his face with even more kisses, whispering about your immense love for him, your fortune in having him, his talents in every possible way, and more.

It was the most delightful awakening you could ever wish for, a grin permanently etched at the corners of your lips as you left the Dreaming behind.

Freya was in absolute shock. She looked at the freshly tailored red dress laid out for her to see, designed specifically to her tastes and body size. Her eyes had sparkled with excitement when you showed her the initial sketch, but seeing her now, tears of joy streaming down her face, made you feel as though you'd accomplished an extraordinary feat. Unbeknownst to her, you had collaborated with the rest of your team to orchestrate this splendid surprise, with Ella's full backing.

You gently encouraged Freya to try the dress on, assuring her that only by wearing it could she appreciate the full beauty of the sophisticated design and velvety fabric. The moment she emerged from the restroom, you couldn’t believe your eyes. She was even more stunning than you had envisioned, making your own creation appear as if you were beholding it for the first time. The full-length sleeves and high neckline imparted the dress with a modest and elegant appearance, while the front opening tastefully showcased a generous portion of her cleavage. The lengthy gown gracefully traced her curves and swept the floor, and the slit on the right subtly revealed her leg.

She even let her voluminous hair down from the usual high bun she wore and touched up her lipstick, the high heels and earrings she selected that day appeared to be an impeccable match.

It was a day to be remembered, truly. The way she embraced and thanked you, as if you'd bestowed upon her the most anticipated reward. The confidence she exuded by agreeing to be photographed in the studio like a professional model, everyone thoroughly enjoying the occasion, showering praise and throwing a genuine party with drinks and snacks in her honor. All of this warmed your heart, filled you with happiness and fulfillment, and reaffirmed that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Eventually, Freya mustered the courage to send one of her photos to her bride-to-be friend. She expressed her desire to wear the new dress at the wedding, which understandably caused quite a stir. The woman was adamant that all the bridesmaids should be clad in identical outfits. If she couldn't procure the same dress for the others, then Freya wouldn't be permitted to wear something distinctive. You were afraid that this might dampen her spirits and ruin her good mood, but to your surprise, Freya resolved that if she couldn't wear your dress, she wouldn't attend the wedding at all.

You had crafted it solely for her. She was the only one who had the right to decide when and where to wear it. After the party, she chose to reserve it for the night of the show, using it as publicity for both the Corbyn&Jones brand and you.

"You know, Y/N, I think what you do is quite magical," she told you. "You might not even realize it, but you literally create dreams that have the power to transform others.”

“Really?”

“Of course! I mean, just by trying out this dress today, I feel like a completely different person.”

You found it paradoxical that you, of all people, were being described as someone capable of making dreams a reality.

"Let's just say that I have some good inspiration in my life," you confessed with a smile.

Freya lifted her glass, clinking it against yours in a friendly toast. "Well then. Cheers to your good influence and genius!”

The night of the show was a mere two days away. While everyone was busy preparing and setting things up at the designated location for the event, Ella beckoned you to her side, the printed lineup practically attached to her hand. She looked distinctly terrified, while Oliver was able to maintain a more composed demeanor despite his own nerves.

You'd be lying if you said that the impending occasion wasn't impacting you in a similar way.

"I know this is somewhat last minute, but one of our sponsors would like to meet you in person this afternoon.”

You furrowed your brow. "One of the sponsors? Why?”

"Oh, that might be my doing. I may have boasted about you a tad excessively.”

You shook your head in playful disbelief. "Seriously, Ella.”

"I know! But you are literally our leading figure. It's only a matter of time before more prominent people decide to make their move.”

"I'm just a designer, I'm not the one in charge.”

"Our sales have seen a significant increase these past few months, thanks to you. Come on, let me sing your praises.”

You chuckled. "Fine. When should I expect them?”

"You're scheduled to meet the sponsor in the main hall around 4pm.”

“Noted.”

Ella let out a squeal, which she attempted to suppress due to the many people around, hailing from different brands and sectors.

"I'm genuinely proud of you. You truly deserve all the success that's coming your way.”

“Honestly, Ella, I wouldn't be here if it weren't for your call.”

"And I wouldn't have called if it weren't for your email. It's funny how life works, isn't it?”

You found yourself nodding with conviction, reflecting on all the remarkable things, whether challenging or rewarding, that had entered your life since you left the Burgess mansion.

Since you encountered Dream of the Endless. Your beloved Morpheus.

If only you had known that the person you were about to meet wasn't who you expected them to be.

By the time you made your way to the main hall, Ella had returned to the office to finalize the remaining details with Oliver. You had been constantly active all morning, barely managing to squeeze in time for an outdoor lunch, arranging the garments for the presentation, and refining the lineup. You were on the brink of being tardy for the appointment, and you left the backrooms in such a rush that you unintentionally left your phone behind.

Casting a quick glance around the luxurious space, you cleared your throat and adjusted your hair to ensure you looked presentable. You didn't spot anyone who seemed to be waiting, so you opted to sit on one of the vacant couches, taking a moment to observe your surroundings.

You found yourself completely zoned out, watching the staff bustling about and your competitors occasionally strolling past, until a voice jolted you from your trance.

"Why, hello there. You must be Y/N Y/LN.”

You raised your gaze to encounter a distinctive figure standing in front of you. They were attired in a white suit, which exposed a portion of their chest and highlighted an oval pendant suspended from a lengthy silver chain. Their blonde hair was flawlessly slicked back, a pair of round earrings graced their ears, and red lipstick accentuated what seemed to be a sincere, yet cryptic smile.

But what truly captivated you was the color of their eyes, which you couldn't pinpoint due to the lighting making them gleam gold.

"Oh, uh, yes. That's me," you stammered.

Their smile broadened. “It's quite a pleasure to meet you in person.”

Their voice was smooth, calm, and suave.

"Likewise," you responded, sitting up straighter and adopting a more professional tone.

"Do you mind if I join you?" They asked, gesturing towards the empty space on the couch beside you.

"Not at all, please have a seat.”

There was something inexplicably peculiar about this sponsor. They settled themselves next to you, a tad too close for your liking, you might add. Aiming not to appear overly nervous, you swiftly collected yourself and returned their smile.

"I'm surprised that you wanted to meet. Do you have any specific questions you'd like to ask me?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. You could say that I'm interested in your... desires.”

You required a moment to process their words.

"My desires...?”

"Look where you are," they declared, sweeping their impeccably manicured hand to indicate the place. "This must be like a dream come true for you, isn't it?”

You had the distinct feeling that they found this thought amusing, leaving you uncertain about whether they were mocking you or not.

"Well, yes. It certainly is. I've worked really hard to reach this point," you affirmed.

"And yet, I can see that you're still searching for something.”

What were they even hinting at?

"There's always scope for improvement," you elucidated. "I may have come a long way in this industry, but that doesn't mean I can't continue to learn as I progress.”

"Is that what you desire? Greater wealth and recognition?”

You were uncertain whether they were attempting to carry out an unconventional interview, or if their words held some concealed subtext. Was this genuinely the sponsor Ella had spoken to you about?

For a moment, a fear gripped you that you might have encountered the wrong person entirely, perhaps someone dispatched by your competitors to probe and expose your vulnerabilities. But as you threw a cursory look around the hall, you didn't notice anyone else seeking you out.

"I wouldn't say that, no. I engage in what I do because I love creating something that empowers the wearer to feel comfortable in their own skin."

They hummed in ponderation. "Well, I guess that's not too far off from what I do.”

“What is it that you do?”

"My dear, I am in search of individuals who are just like you, drawn to those objects of their desire like a butterfly to a candle's flame.”

That was quite an enigmatic and poetic way to respond. You inferred that as a sponsor, they were particularly discerning about the brand and company they decided to invest in. Possibly, as the one fundamentally in control of the main collections of Corby&Jones, they aimed to painstakingly scrutinize your intentions and authenticity.

It was entirely plausible, all things considered. Yet, there was an odd element that was making you feel uneasy.

“So tell me then, what is it that you want? Don't be shy. Or perhaps I should try to guess?”

Alarm bells started sounding in your mind the moment they edged even closer, their fingers lightly sweeping your hair away from your face.

“You want something sensual, or maybe something precious. Or... maybe someone special. Or maybe you want all three. Yes, I think that might just be the case. ”

The last thing you wanted was for your company to lose one of its most significant sponsors, but your patience was already stretched thin and you could not bear any more of it.

Sporting a nervous chuckle, you cautiously lifted your hand to gently move theirs away as diplomatically as you could, using your left leg to redistribute your weight and subtly distance yourself a bit further from them.

"I’m sorry, but I'm afraid your guess is inaccurate.”

“Is that so?”

"I have a boyfriend. I have no need to seek anything or anyone else, as I've already attained everything I've ever wished for.”

You could almost swear their expression transformed into a blend of disappointment and annoyance, even though they managed to somewhat retain their smile.

"Well, that's unfortunate," they proclaimed. "But you see, all humans are creatures of desire, twisting and bending to their whims.”

You were still unable to understand what all of that was about. Regardless of their motive, you had no interest in discerning it.

"I wouldn't want to come off as rude, but I really need to return to my work. Is there any particular matter you wanted to discuss with me?”

Your attempt to abruptly terminate the conversation and depart clearly took them by surprise, as you noticed them purse their red lips and squint their eyes to scrutinize you. The longer you gazed into those irises, the more the notion strengthened that they were indeed gold. But such an eye color was improbable for a human, wasn't it…?

Eventually, they reverted to their initial politeness. "But of course. I was merely curious to finally meet the famous Y/N Y/LN. Go ahead, continue with your work. I won't hold you here.”

With a simple nod of your head, you excused yourself, standing up from the couch and offering your hand in a professional manner, which they accepted. Their grip was firm, warm, and oddly comforting, yet at the same time, a chill ran through your entire body.

What you experienced in that moment was truly bizarre. A part of you felt as though you knew them, or at least, there was a familiarity in their presence that echoed Morpheus and Teleute. A distant voice in your head reassured you that there was no need for fear, that they could calm your spirit and provide the most exhilarating ride you could ever imagine.

And it terrified you.

The instant they released you, you practically dashed off, fumbling in your pocket for your phone to give Ella a piece of your mind about the situation, only to discover that you didn't have the device with you.

And you were oblivious to the way they continued to gaze at you until you were out of sight, narrowing their eyes and resting their fingers on their chin in profound thought.

"My, what a fascinating mortal being,” they commented with a broad grin, before releasing a prolonged, amused laugh through their perfectly white teeth.

The moment you reentered the backrooms, Freya hailed you and advanced with a brisk stride, extending her hand that was gripping your phone. "I found it on the table next to me. Ella sent you a message, I noticed her name flashing on the screen.”

Speak of the Devil…

"Thanks, Freya. I'll check it right away. I'll be back in a minute.”

She nodded in recognition and gave you a thumbs-up, before resuming her task of arranging the chosen outfits on their corresponding hangers.

You unlocked the screen and navigated straight to your friend's chat, freezing in place as soon as you read her message.

You could feel your blood chilling as you recognized that the person you had just interacted with was, in fact, not the one you were initially supposed to meet. You had found them strange, slightly ethereal even, but overall suitable for that specific setting, notwithstanding their flirtatious conduct.

And now, staring in utter disbelief at your phone screen, you could only conjecture about their real identity, how they knew your name, and most importantly, why they were there for you.

The only logical explanation you could arrive at was your initial assumption about a competitor sending one of their own, but you couldn't dismiss that nagging feeling in your gut that they were someone, or perhaps even something, entirely distinct.

Without a moment's hesitation, you tucked your phone into your pocket and sprinted for the main hall, hoping to still find them there and obtain an explanation. Regrettably, they were nowhere to be seen, as you couldn't spot their elegant attire, blonde hair, or golden eyes.

You came to the realization that they hadn't even introduced themselves to you. You had no name to associate with them, no concrete information about their profession or location whatsoever. You were left without any leads, while they appeared to have a clear understanding of who you were. Could you possibly be dealing with an admirer who had infiltrated the showroom solely to see you?

In the end, all you could do was return to your responsibilities and let the matter slide, even though it certainly nagged at you for the remainder of the day.

With all arrangements for the imminent show complete, Ella and Oliver gave their team a well-deserved day off before the grand event, ensuring that everyone could rejuvenate and approach the coming day with renewed energy. Capitalizing on this chance, you planned another visit to your father, as time with him had been scant since the revelation about your mother. The last time you awoke from the Dreaming, he implied there was something he wished to talk about, but assured you it wasn't pressing and could be postponed.

However, as soon as he opened the door to greet you, it was evident that something about him was off again. He appeared hesitant, leaving you lingering at the entrance without fully inviting you in, his countenance displaying unease.

"Dad? What's wrong? Can I come in or are we planning to have lunch here on your doorstep?”

He exhaled deeply, shifting his gaze towards something in the living room. "No, it's just.... there's someone here.”

"Oh... a guest? Would you prefer if I came back next week?”

"No, no, there's no need for that," he paused. "Actually... they're here for you.”

You attempted to conjure a mental image of who they might be. "Huh...?”

At last, he moved aside to let you in, closing the door behind you and assisting you with your jacket. But before you could proceed further, he gently grasped your arm and placed both his hands on your shoulders.

"Y/N, I didn't plan this. Whatever happens, know that I will understand if you decide to leave.”

“Dad, seriously. What’s going on here?”

Reflecting back, you should have realized that there was only one person who would potentially want to converse with you. You had barely interacted with his friends a few times, and he was the sole family you had left. There was no one else who would wish to see you in his house.

Except for someone you believed would never be allowed to come near the two of you, ever again.

When he remained silent, lowering his gaze, you pivoted and ventured into the living room. There, you noticed a woman stationed by the window, her eyes fixed outside, responding to your entrance with a slight flinch.

You couldn't instantly recognize her, but as she slowly swiveled around to face you, your heart abruptly stopped. You found yourself staring at the woman from your dream, the memory that Morpheus had transferred from your father's mind into yours. She nervously fiddled with her thumbs while clasping her hands over her lap, swallowing hard and blinking rapidly to clear her tear-filled eyes.

You felt a dizzy spell coming on, unable to react, as your father slowly moved to stand beside you, nervously anticipating some sort of response from you.

And then it came, your voice shaky, trembling, emerging as a whisper. "Mum....?"

Upon hearing that, she managed a smile in your direction, summoning the courage to take a step towards you. "Hello, Y/N.”

You began to hyperventilate, your ears filled with a loud ringing noise and a dreadful wave of nausea started to swell within you. She repeated your name, but it became inaudible. Her lips were moving, yet no sound was perceptible, as the unbearable ringing in your ears drowned everything else out.

You had reconciled with that she would only exist as a faint echo in the background of your existence, a distant figure you'd never have a chance to see or converse with. Caught completely off guard, you found yourself in her presence for the first time, a moment you had yearned for since your childhood years.

And you were petrified, completely paralyzed with fear.

Your father gently prodded you, trying to elicit a proper reaction that stubbornly refused to surface. Your breathing grew rapid and strained as you struggled to supply enough oxygen to your brain.

Until everything descended into darkness.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 (currently reading) Go to Chapter 16 ->

[kindred-spirit-93]

*succinct & eloquent opening line. maybe a clever joke or quote* :D

do you ever sit there and contemplate your life choices after like a certain experience or a talk with a loved one?

do you ever come across a quote or a piece that seems like it was written for you in this particular moment in time? an anecdote that mirrors your current situation perhaps?

well im currently going through it & after a double whammy of mama lore TM during some resurfacing anxious & assorted crises, i dont even know what im going through anymore. but we shared a really sweet heart to heart and reminisced over good and less good times aw!

i am reminded that there is still much to life, light to be sought and found, good times yet to be had. its bittersweet. its mature. its scary? its like coming to terms with your mortality but on a smaller scale. or bigger whos to say...

i wont be venting anything, i think for now at least im content to vague post lmao. also my dad bought me some stress eating treats so i might need to go wallow in my feels for a bit

after i jinxed myself by saying im going on hiatus but failing to stay off the website lol (i had moot withdrawl symptoms sue me), i wont be repeating the same mistake, but with context clues i trust u can see where im going with this

it might sound presumptious to state so confidently that this next month of my life will be the hardest in my career, especially since im not even half way there yet, but the truth of the matter is that it is.

ive been struggling for well over a year now (mostly academically) and im both succeeding in places i didnt before (alhamdulillah!) but failing in the exact same places elsewhere. guys i may have anxiety lol

self fulfilling prophecies, nocebo effect, whatever it is & regardless of what you want to call it, its rough. its hard. im tired. theres still so much left and im tired. i shouldnt be this tired. or this empty. or careless. what have i let myself become? why am i punishing myself still?

this coming month will dictate the rest of my future and ill have no one to blame but myself if i let the opportunity slip through my fingers. but if all goes well inshallah i can put this all behind me and start anew so theres that silver lining :D

i kinda lost direction of this post about half an hour ago lol. my point is im going to try harder at balancing several life aspects bc i really cant put it off any more. i need to establish balance because ive been out of the loop for too long now. *shudders in python*

anyways there are plenty of things i have to work on, both in my studies and life, so i have that going for me *party kazoo noises*

id love to grace you all with some wise words or a life lesson or something but i dont have a neat one liner to sum up anything. despite that im writing this because sometimes letting thoughts float in my head isnt enough, i need to articulate and write it out because to let them roam in the vast expanses of my mind under the pretense that i achieved something is frankly silly as it is counterproductive.

a n y w a y , to anyone and everyone reading take care of yourselves and your loved ones. i wish everyone the best in life and in their endeavours. i will probably pop back in every now and again to catch up on messages and make sure everyone is alive and nothing burned down. i will however attempt to exert self control. (key word: attempt)

aight imma head out before i get too emotional or combust with the need to say something stupid like i love you be more unserious XD

[smaller-comfort]

Some poorly organized thoughts, now that I have consumed a stack of Warhammer books about necrons. (Cannot thank @ocelly enough for sending them to me.)

Spoilers for the Infinite and the Divine and thr Twice Dead King books. I'm not talking about Severed because I am genuinely tired of bursting into tears! I have become a parody of a human being.

Orikan deserves it nearly every time Trazyn leaves him in a mangled heap somewhere. No forgiveness or quarter for breaking those pots during his initial theft of the astrarium! I mean, I get where Orikan is coming from; Necrons as a whole are slaved to their past and their inability to change will destroy them. But also, priceless ancient pottery, you raging douchebag. You also didn't have to break Trazyn's walking stick.

Executioner Philias deserves the chance to decapitate both of them, as a treat. And Sannet deserves a vacation somewhere quiet and restful.

I know Orikan tends to be characterized as a shrieking gremlin in contrast to Trazyn's laconic smarminess but they both engage in a lot of shrieking gremlin antics here.

I love how the rise and fall of Serenade's civilizations is used as a framing device for the whole story. I love the approach to time itself in the book in general, with the necrons moving on incomprehensibly vast timelines. Pauses in conversations take hours; three years pass in the middle of a brainstorming session between Trazyn and his staff. Orikan manipulates the timeline with wild abandon to occasionally disastrous and frequently hilarious ends. It's a very fun premise, and it drives home the idea of necrons as not just immortal, but also impossibly old.

(It feels like a treat to read something like this after some of the ideas I've chewed on in my Sea of Stars fic. It's hard not to draw parallels, and some part of me desires an entirely senseless crossover. Trazyn would have a delightful time getting to show off his archives to Resh'an, up until the Vial of Time starts breaking down the chronostasis fields in some of the exhibits. Whoops.)

Thinking about the curatorial/transformational dichotomy in fandom makes me want to contemplate an incredibly stupid AU where Trazyn and Orikan have been getting into flamewars with each other on gaming message boards since the early 90s. They have been banned from attending the same conventions and tournaments after getting in one too many fistfights with each other.

I'm not going to write that. (I'm not likely to write anything...but if I do, it's probably going to be porn where Orikan gets dismembered. *sigh* I'm always predictable to myself, of course, but sometimes the mortifying ordeal of being known weighs upon one's mind.)

I just picked up the audio book, so I may give my eyes a break in the coming week and give it a listen.

Zahndrekh's cameo in Ruin, followed by the revelation in Reign that he's wrapped up in the Carnotite conclave bullshit makes me wildly curious as to where Crowley is headed with these stories. Also the fact that Zahndrekh was as weird and off-putting to people when he was alive as he is when he's a necron is so, so fucking hilarious. He's just like that normally! Incredible. I love him more than words can describe.

I feel like if I were better versed in ancient Greek philosophy and Egyptian mythology, I'd have been picking up a lot more of the references and allusions in Twice Dead King. I've also never watched Battlestar Galactica, so I don't know how much the parallels between BG and Reign line up beyond the superficial.

(It may be Locked Tomb brainrot at work making me assume there are additional levels to the story that I'm missing. Not that there aren't already plenty of levels to the story!)

Going back through pieces of Ruin after finishing Reign makes everything hurt even more! Wow. Incredible.

Reading Ruin: Oltyx you absolute gay disaster baby, please get a grip

Reading Reign: wait no not like that oh god no

Yenekh gets to subvert the 'best friend who dies tragically to support the hero' trope because he's not the best friend, he's the love interest. Oltyx spends the first six chapters of Ruin waxing poetic about his dear friend's graceful curves and shining carapace, come on.

(Their reunion on the Polyphemus also made me cry, unsurprisingly. Love wins! Which is the central theme of course; Oltyx's salvation comes from the people who love him.)

Lysikor manages to steal every scene he's in, which is hilariously appropriate. He's just the distilled essence of that one thief in every D&D campaign who rolls way too high on his pickpocket checks. I have to assume that he's relying on his obsession with stealing shit to stave off his own descent into the flayer curse, since he is originally from Ithakas.

If/when he gets turned, he can go to Drazak and make out sloppy style with Oltyx while Yenekh looks on in horror before joining in.

...I mean I guess Lysikor doesn't need to be turned for that, necessarily. It's going to be an extremely messy endeavor, regardless.

Between The Locked Tomb, and Twice-Dead King, it feels like there's a lot of ritualistic cannibalism with skeletons going on around here. 🤷‍♀️

[sincosma]

Hello! I just finished Congruent and I just wanted to express my love and thanks for this fic. Ever since playing Ocarina of Time and Majora’s Mask I have heavily contemplated what happened to Link in both timelines and your writing perfectly summarized everything I felt. Seeing both Link and Sheik deal with PTSD in all of its ugly forms but also being able to support each other and battle their demons together is truly so important to me. I played these games during a very hard time in my life and getting to connect with these characters in the same way has touched me very deeply and again thank you so much for this. There’s truly so much I could say about how much I love about this fic but I’ll keep it short and just say you have such a beautiful writing style and understanding of these characters. You were able to expand on a story that felt so natural that I have to remind myself that unfortunately none of this is canon. I truly wish you only the best and hope you are happy and healthy.

Awww anon, thank you so much for this kind and thoughtful message. I'm so honored that you enjoyed Congruent and that it touched you so deeply. It was super important to me that Sheik and Link experienced the real consequences of war. I played Oot and MM right when they came out, so I was aged 7-9 when I was playing them, and they terrified me several times. Imagine what the characters themselves would be feeling!

Man, idk what it is, but myself and so many others I've met have also said that Zelda games helped them through hard times. I really wonder if there's something about the nature of these games that makes them esp powerful and helpful. Maybe it's how (for the most part) you're playing completely alone and going through these trials and it feels so PERSONAL. You start comparing your own struggles to what Link has to endure, and it helps you work through them in a safe setting? Idk, that's just my take.

I don't think I will ever shut up about how STRANGE it feels sometimes to know that something I wrote has affected people so deeply. I really felt like I was writing a self-indulgent odyssey that only I would enjoy but SIKE. Other people like this thing! Wow! Messages like this are an honor to receive, so thank YOU anon for taking the time to send me this <3

[thatmindfulmorena]

Things I wish I knew before starting (psycho) therapy

[T/W brief mentions of suicide]

About a year ago, I remember feeling so low and lost in my life that I wanted to do that thing. But a little voice somehow resonated through my head and told me to google up the suicide hotline number. As soon as the numbers appeared on the screen, my heavy thoughts began to pause.

“What was I going to say? Are they going to judge me if I just cried? What if no one was on the other line and its just some unavailable number?”

I ended up calming myself down and took a good hold of myself. I couldn’t call, because I wouldn’t know what to tell them.

I did not proceed with the call, and I did not do any harm on myself, thankfully. But I did wonder, how the hell do you start ‘(psycho)therapy’?

I’ve contemplated for years when was the perfect time to get therapy. While I had researched on psychological and psychiatric therapy as the best option to treat depression, I had my reservations. I didn’t know where to begin and knowing that if I asked help from my parents, they’d be critical of me, and would rather tell me that “I’m not praying enough”. I knew from then on that I was pretty much on my own in terms of discovering a solution for my depression.

Here's a few things I wish I knew before starting psychotherapy. Please do note that this may not work for you, but I hope you’d gain a little confidence boost to starting your therapy journey.

It doesn’t need to take a grave situation before you can start pulling yourself out from anxiety or depression.

I took the step to psychotherapy after I had been to several doctors about physical ailments that didn't seem to go away for months. I did not like the thought of taking medication either for my brain, so I tried psychotherapy instead. I needed to know whether it was really all in my head or not; as I was sick and tired of feeling lost in general.

2. Its okay to switch therapists or clinics when you don’t feel like it.

The first time I tried therapy was through an online chat consultation. I didn't have the courage to face a psychologist, because I wouldn't know where to actually start. I figured online chat messages would allow me to have time to carefully explain what I want to say (or I'd say its my most comfortable way of explaining: writing). But after a couple of sessions, I didn't feel like I was heading towards a direction that I really wanted to go through.

I gained a little confidence from there, and figured that I need to have a virtual consultation (this was during the height of the pandemic) and express myself verbally so my psychologist would be able to assess me better.

3. Seeking help when you’re mentally ill is the same as seeking medical consultation when you have a cold that won’t go away.

Growing up in a traditional household that mental illness or depression is something that could just be "prayed away", gave me a lot of hesitation to start seeking help. I came to realize that mental illness is a body ailment that needs to be treated like any other physical ailment.

4. Seeking help for depression is a huge step that your future self will thank you for.

It was obviously scary for me, knowing that I don't know anyone personally who has had experience with therapy. Everybody else were either strong enough, or didn't have the knowledge and courage either to start.

5. Search engines like Facebook are your friends in searching for clinics.

In my country, there have been a lot of clinics on Facebook that provide online psychotherapy, due to the pandemic. Some offer trial sessions, and when you're comfortable enough with them, you can pursue the next consultations at original rates. I just had to make sure that the doctors in those clinics were completely licensed.

6. It shouldn’t take a huge fortune to start therapy, but it will cost you.

While I have yet to search for a list of clinics that offer affordable sessions, I was a bit desperate to get started on my road to recovery. Unfortunately, most HMOs does not include mental health consultations, and it does require money if you want to continue your sessions. The length of the sessions varies (depending on your case), and will depend on you and your therapist's evaluation.

7. Psychotherapy is not an overnight solution.

After seeing and reading things about how beneficial therapy was to people, I had thought that after one consultation, my mental health issue will be resolved, just like how internal medicine doctors give you medicine for your flu and you have the option to go or not to go back if you feel better.

It takes a lot of patience with yourself, and with your therapist's guidance--to reach the goal of healing.

8. Not every therapy session will make you feel good.

I always thought that once I ranted out my woes in every session, I'd feel good after. My therapist had this strategy of letting me realize the resolutions to some concerns myself; by making me discuss deep seated emotions that I have been hiding myself, either consciously or not. A lot of the times, it will be heavy, or tiring to show up the next session, but if you're really determined to heal, you will put your best effort for yourself.

9. Therapists are not meant to be your friend, nor should they be named as 'paid listeners'.

Being a born introvert myself, I don't share a lot of secrets, especially emotions to other people; even to my closest friends. When I managed to really speak up about my dark secrets and deep seated emotions, I felt like I've gained a friend. For I have never felt so validated in my life for feeling certain things.

And as much as they do have a clear interest in my life, at the end of the day, they are just doctors doing their noble jobs of helping their patients heal. They are to be treated with as much respect.

10. Its better if you can set a 'goal' before you start your therapy.

I was asked initially this question, and I felt like I didn't have any specific goal, other than to 'feel better'. Therapists would prefer if you can provide them a direction so they can anticipate what kind of strategies they'll need for you to go into the direction that you want to.

But if you don't have a specific goal either, don't be disheartened. They are meant to help and guide us; as long as we consciously help ourselves.

And that's pretty much it. No matter how small or huge your worries are, they are valid reasons to get checked at. Remember that seeking help is not a sign of weakness, but a sign of strength.

[conseille]

he's been much busier and the house is far too large for just one person--which is why when she arrives with usual delivery in hand, his place just seems so much brighter... or maybe that was just her smile. he fondly watches her prattle on, hues studying the way her brows move, the rosiness of her cheeks, and the curl of her lips... " sorry, yeah ... i was listening, " he quickly amends as he realizes she's pouting. he can't say he was trying to memorize her face. that would just be .. creepy.

with fingers dusted white and floury, she’s in the middle of folding dumplings with her co-worker when her phone suddenly buzzes from her apron pocket. apologies and anticipation wash her cheeks pink as she rushes to finish, then rushes to the sink. with clean hands she determines that sure enough, the source was a little sticker from sid: a chubby hamster curled up on the floor, claimed languished and starving despite the roundness of his cheeks. she smiles, and in a moment her fingers are at work pilfering his favorites from what’s already been prepared. an older cook turns to scold her, but knows the helpless cause all too well ( only one could turn even yerin into a cheeky thief ! ). most of the time, yerin prefers to make his food herself, stuffing the gimbap and dumplings plump, plump, plump ♪ …  but it’s been a while since she’s seen sid. today she’ll trade the intimacy of cooking for a sooner glimpse of him.

with portions-a-plenty carefully parceled away into the box of her scooter, yerin follows the usual route to his door. no matter the number of times, the nod from the security guard at the gate still manages to elicit that pinch of joy from her when she imagines the first time sid gave them her name. they know her face now, and that just means it’s minutes quicker to see him. and he greets her, a living picture in the frame of the door as always – even in relaxed clothing, sid’s made regal, a simple shirt on him turned into artistic drapery on bronzed effigy as it touches sculpture, muscle. yerin, by contrast …  still in uniform and lacking in glitz & glamour though she may be, her blush colors her a peony placed in admiration. not out of place, but worlds beneath.

though they meet at the door, they’re in the kitchen in seconds, and yerin’s moving fluidly to unearth his plateware ( she knows his cupboards as well as the curves of him ). she chats while she works to prepare the food, ponytail swishing – low today, the style an afterthought subsequent to the outside heat – as she brings up the customers she saw earlier. how the kids shuffling monster cards at the tables had reminded her of the days they played yu-gi-oh before, and ❝ … remember ? ❞  how they had “borrowed” a briefcase from yerin’s dad to hold their cards just like kaiba, only to dramatically scuff up the edges after dragging it all around the park.

❝ – i didn’t get any allowance for three months, ❞ she laughs, lightly scratching her forehead where her bangs tickle. when she turns to sid with a plate piled high for him, however … there’s no response. for a moment, she wonders if she rambles too much – it seems she can’t help but mention the past whenever they’re together; memories spill from her lips like endless pages worn loose from the photobook, faded, fond. but he usually doesn’t seem to mind. her pout turns to concern, wondering if he’s been overworked lately. ❝ you’re not working too hard, are you ? ❞ a hand passes gently to his forehead without thinking, but then, blinking back, it’s her own temperature that rises in succession.

[pascalmode]

In The Stars (4 - The Rematch)

Hello, hello! This is dedicated to @im-tired-please-stop because their support has been everything to me so far during this writing process. They always send me a kind message (hi, i love you). Let me know what you think of this, because it feels very different than what I'm used to writing. I LOVE YOU! ENJOY!

Az x TOG!OC

Words: 3.8k

Warnings: Sword fight, violence, drinking alcohol, and idk??? Maybe a bit sad??? Minor angst??? Find out, I guess.

Asteria cannot take her eyes off of the Shadowsinger. 

Even warming up next to Cassian on the training ring, stretching out her limbs and clashing a blunt-edged practice sword against one that Feyre holds, Asteria can’t seem to get her stare off of the winged male for more than a few seconds at a time. 

He’s so beautiful it hurts to look at him. The elegant and sharp panes of his face draw her attention, and the hazel of his eyes only make her want to inspect him further. 

More than anything, though, she’s curious. What even is a Shadowsinger? Rhysand hadn’t mentioned anything about Azriel’s abilities, but Asteria wants to know everything. She wants to know about the blue gems gleaming on his dark, scaled armor, and about the shadows peering at her over his shoulders, moving as if they have a mind of their own. 

She’s so fixated on them, that she almost doesn’t block Feyre’s practice sword as it jabs towards her abdomen. Asteria wards it off with late swipe of her blade, making her jaw clench. She needs to focus. 

“Not so good with a blade, are you?” Cassian taunts, a teasing smile on his face as he rests his own blunted sword upon his shoulder and saunters over.

Asteria lowers her weapon, ignoring the chill of ice-lined wind swirling around her as she turns to the absurdly tall male, “You sure love to hear yourself talk, don’t you?”

“I’m just saying, we can always lose the blades and even out the odds,” Cassian says, “Maybe it’ll give you an actual chance.”

“Right, because you had me pinned so quickly last time,” Asteria smirks, seeing her jab land when the winged male rolls his eyes, an amused smile growing on his face.

Cassian lets out a chuckle, his free hand perching itself on his hip, “How about a wager?”

Asteria’s brows raise, intrigued by the winged male’s words, and she gives him a nod, urging him to continue. 

“If I win, I get that sword you had on you earlier, and you apologize to me, Mor, and to the window that you needlessly shattered.”

“And if I win?”

“Then drinks are on me at Rita’s tonight.”

Asteria makes a show of taking a long inhale through her nose, and exhaling through her mouth; contemplating before she speaks. The reward is severely uneven, and Asteria is about to drive up the bargain, and hopefully amuse not only Cassian, but the rest of the Inner Circle, “So just to clarify; you want my mother’s sword, one that I’ve carried my entire life, my groveling, but all I get in return is wine?”

“Do you not like wine?”

“Oh no, I love wine, but it’s not enough,” Asteria smirks, “I’ll take your offer of drinks, for me and your Inner Circle, but when I win, I want you on your knees telling me that I am the most skilled fighter you’ve ever encountered, and whatever other flattery you can come up with.”

“Groveling for groveling?” Cassian repeats, earning a proud nod from Asteria, “Seems like we have a deal.”

“Seems like we do,” Asteria says, holding out her leather gloved hand. Cassian takes it, the rough callouses of his palms rubbing on fabric as he giving it a firm shake before he releases her.

A yell from the group of fae gathered at the sidelines of the mat make both of the fighter’s heads whip towards it, “Are we getting this started anytime soon? The wine is getting warm out here!” Mor calls, hugging her fur lined cloak tighter around her body.

Instead of putting her attention to the female, though, Asteria’s eyes find Azriel, finding his burning hazel eyes already scanning over her form. Her nerve endings fire, a tingling spreading over her entire body under his gaze. When their eyes meet, neither of them turn away. Hazel meets green and refuses to move anywhere else.

Asteria swallows her nerves, forcing herself to look back to Cassian as he responds to Mor’s taunts. 

“It’s winter! Stop hugging the bottle and put it in the snow!” Cassian shouts back, chuckling when the blonde responds with a vulgar gesture. The long-haired male turns back to Asteria, tapping his blunted, harmless sword against his palm, “We go until there’s a blow that would fatally wound, or one of us yields, got it?”

Asteria nods, taking a few steps back and spinning her blade at her side, Cassian mirroring her movements. 

They begin to move around the training ring, circling each other, eyes turning from playful and taunting to analytical and careful. Cassian is a General, Asteria remembers, and he’s had time to strategize since their last bout. She’d have to be more careful. She’d draw him out.

Asteria jolts forward a few steps, baiting the male into launching to her, his weapon raised. 

Cassian swings hard, his sword slashing down with a strong, two handed grip. Asteria ducks under it. She doesn’t make for a blow as she usually would, instead, she bats his advance away easily with her own blade, smirking as she does. 

Her smirk falters, however, when Cassian uses that momentum, turning bringing his sword into a high arch and bringing it down on Asteria in a fast, fluid motion.

She blocks it, and their swords clang together, the crisp noise ringing loudly through cold air. Asteria’s hand tightens on her hilt, and her free arm supports the steel of the blade, already sore from Cassian’s brute strength. 

Wrenching to one side, Asteria turns, sword swinging out and connecting hard with Cassian’s as he blocks. She pulls back quickly only to lunge forward again, trying to use her speed as an asset only for Cassian to parry the blow. 

The winged male lurches forward, drawing back only to repeat the action again and again without relent. His swings are strong, strategically placed. He moves like a soldier. Like the feared General of the Night Court Armies he’s known to be. 

He’s giving Asteria a good fight.

The silver haired female grits her teeth, growling as their blades clash together once again, the sound darting through the winter-chilled air. Cassian’s pure strength pushing Asteria back a step. 

Her arms are growing weaker by the second. With every swing of his blade Cassian is advancing on her, wearing her down. Asteria doesn’t have the muscle to take hit after hit, her arms vibrating from the impacts, as if the blows are echoing through her. But she’s faster than him. She’s proved that already. She just has to turn the fight in her favor.  

Cassian slices towards her again, and Asteria makes her move. Grabbing onto the General’s arm, Asteria pulls him forward. Ducking under his arm and kicking out, the female sends him tumbling forward, off balance. 

He whips around in a second, wings flapping once to help him regain his footing, and Asteria saunters towards him, making sure she swings her hips and draws arrogance into her steps as she switches her grip on the practice-sword. She holds the hilt in a reverse grip, and picks up her pace. 

Asteria wants Cassian to know that she’s taking control, and with the way he squares his stance, his lips pulled back in a silent snarl, she knows he hasn’t quite gotten the message. 

She’ll have to prove it to him the only way she knows how. 

Asteria darts towards Cassian before he can advance, catching him as flat-footed as he can be. Whirling around, Asteria spins as she engages the male once again, a growl ripping out of her throat. She attacks him with speed, and quick momentum. She bounces off of his parries and keeps swinging, and slicing, making him keep up with her. Her speed is the only advantage she has against him, so she’s put herself in an all out sprint of assaults 

The reverse grip she holds on her sword, the one Asteria prefers, is tricky. His blocks come with a new hesitation, as though he isn’t sure where the silver-haired female is actually going to strike. She’s making him rethink through his defenses. 

He’s trying desperately to regain the upper hand he once held, but every attack Cassian tries, Asteria turns against him. Each attempt to stop her momentum, to slow her down, falters, Asteria moving out of his reach like water through his fingers. 

She’s too fast for him, and Asteria knows she’s about to have him beat, just a couple more moves and she can use his own strength against him. Asteria manages to bat Cassian’s sword away, spinning and swinging for his chest, his throat. She’s thinks she’s about to win.

Until Cassian’s leg swings out in a desperate attempt to save himself and the match, and he trips her. 

Asteria doesn’t falter when she hits the mat, her mind telling her to movemovemove. Her head whips up as Cassian darts forward, and she kicks out, her foot hooking around his knee and pulling with all of her immortal strength.

Cassian falls back hard, laying out on the mat just as Asteria had for a split second, and much like their encounter the day before, Asteria is on him in the blink of an eye.

With no time to waste, Asteria rams the hilt of her sword into Cassian’s ribs and digs her knee into his chest, pressing her weight in to keep him down. 

Not yet defeated, Cassian swings his sword one last time, the blunted metal meeting Asteria’s forearm, held up to deflect the blow while she presses her blade into his throat, the both of them panting hard. 

The match is over. 

“You lose a hand,” Cassian lets out between labored breaths. 

“And you lose your head,” Asteria points out, pressing her harmless sword a little harder into the male’s neck, “I wonder what’s more important.”

“Depends on the hand,” Cassian smirks, and Asteria bites back her laugh at the crude humor.

From the sidelines, Rhysand, Amren, Mor, Feyre, and Azriel all cheer loudly, clapping their hands and yelling taunts to the General. They had been yelling the entire fight, constantly switching sides throughout. Asteria had barely noticed Rhysand calling, ‘Oh, it’s over for him now’ when Asteria took up her reverse grip on the blade. She’d been to focused on trying to slice through Prythian’s fearless General.

“You lose, Cassian,” The silver-haired female proudly says, pulling herself up to her feet, “Time for some groveling.”

Another round of cheers comes from the Inner Circle, and Cassian releases a dramatic sigh, raising himself up to his knees and holding his arms up in grandeur, drawing all the eyes around to him. 

“Asteria Relridaar,” Cassian begins, a delighted smirk on his lips, “Not only are you one of the most infuriating females I have ever encountered in my five centuries of existence, but you are also the most skilled fighter. You move faster than I can keep up with, and you have bested me twice. And I didn’t think it was possible, but you may be the only person to have better hair than me. I will forever be endlessly jealous. How’s that for flattery and grovelling?”

“It’ll have to do, won’t it?” Asteria teases, nonchalantly, offering the General her hand. He takes it, pulling himself up to his feet. The silver haired female half expects him to use the gesture to throw her to the mat and pin her to save a semblance of that fragile male pride fae are so well known for. He would never succeed, obviously, because Asteria was trained better than that, but it surprises her when he makes no such move. 

Cassian is sportsmanlike when he playfully claps her on the shoulder, and it feels so kind, so otherworldly, that Asteria stiffens. 

The female looks upon the group that had gathered, eyes lingering on the Shadowsinger for a moment too long before she’s clearing her throat, “I’ll see you all when it’s time for Rita’s,” Asteria hurriedly says, heart hammering in her chest as she moves away from Cassian and sets her practice blade on a nearby rack before hurrying back inside the house.

When she slams the door to her bedroom behind her, she tries to shake off the feeling of hazel eyes burning into her back as she fled. 

—

Since it was established a few hundred years ago, the Inner Circle had sought out Rita’s for excitement, a few good drinks, and a sense of comradery. There’s a booth always reserved for them, and bottles of their favorite wine and ale always on hand. 

Azriel always looked forward to nights spent there. It was the one place there were no spies needing his attention, no reports to follow up with, and where the shadows that are always dancing around him tend to relax, quiet down, just slightly. 

Sat on the edge of the booth, Rhys clamping down on his shoulder while he barks a laugh at something the Shadowsinger had muttered in response to an exaggerated story from Cassian, Azriel should be enjoying himself. He should be focusing on the words leaving Mor’s red-painted lips, as he usually would. Her mere presence should be absolutely gripping him from where she sits across from her.

But he’s distracted.

Truthfully, he’s the most off his game that he’s been in centuries, purely because of the introduction of the Realm Reader. The same silver haired female he can’t seem to pry his stare off of for more than a few moments at a time. 

He couldn’t read her. As the Spymaster to his beloved Court, Azriel prides himself for his observation skills. He watches from the shadows that always welcome him like an old friend, and often feels like he knows a person after a few moments. He’d proved that skill more times than he can count.

But not with Asteria. He can’t figure her out. 

She isn’t at their booth. She had been for a few minutes, chuckling along with the inside jokes Mor had shared with her during their first round of wine, but somehow never offering more than a small, crooked smile. She’d been enjoying herself, amused even.

But in a moment, it’s like a switch was flipped. Azriel had watched as something changed in her evergreen eyes, like a wall slowly being propped up, and she excused herself, lingering by herself at the corner of the bar instead. 

Even so, it’s as if Asteria’s presence demands Azriel’s attention, her green eyes, the shade of the evergreens that line the forests of the Night Court, are more careful than anyone Azriel had seen before. Maybe even more than his. As though she’s truly taking in and assessing every detail in the room, and had been since they arrived. 

Her posture is straight, her long, silver hair tightly braided and falling to the small of her back. She holds herself with a quiet dignity that only comes with centuries of training, and battle. Based off the lethal skill she’d displayed earlier, Azriel can’t help but admire the way she stands; Confidently, like she’s a mountain that no one can move. 

Why shouldn’t she be confident? She’d bested one of the most powerful Illyrians in history. She’s fast, and knows how to use a sword well. Outside of her fighting, her beauty is an elegant, dangerous variety. Tricky. Like she’d lure him in only to shatter him completely. 

Azriel’s eyes skim over her soft, feminine features betrayed by the slashing scars littered up and around her delicately long neck and collar bones, disappearing beneath her tunic. He’s curious if there are more underneath, and about the stories behind them. 

Most of all, he’s curious about why he finds himself unable to look away from her.

With his goblet suddenly empty, Azriel excuses himself from the booth, moving through the crows of both High and Low Fae, moving to the far corner of the bar.

Asteria doesn’t say anything when he stands beside her, his elbows leaning on the bar and shadows that were once settled waking up and screaming in his ear that she’s looking at him. Her scent wafts through the air, citrus and amber and something faintly woodsy he can’t quite place.

When she raises her cup to her lips, sipping her wine, Azriel notes how smooth the motion is. He thinks back to her battle with Cassian, remembering the lethal grace she’d moved with. She’d been sure of herself, the reverse grip she’d held on her sword acting as an asset to her speed and agility. Asteria had swiped at Cassian’s chest, and neck, deadly swipes if the practice blades were actually sharp enough to cause harm. He’d seen combat like that before on a few occasions from hired fighters. Ones that don’t end the match when their opponent yields.

“You fight like an assassin,” Azriel says, glancing over to the silver haired female to see her quirking a brow at him from over the rim of her goblet. 

She swallows before speaking, those dark green eyes of hers running over his face, that same careful observation he recognizes so deeply in himself, “Is that a bad thing?”

“Not necessarily,” Azriel quietly shrugs, “Are you an assassin?”

“I was. A long time ago,” Asteria breathes, looking away from Azriel and towards the booth housing his boisterously laughing friends, “I’ve been a lot of things since then.”

Azriel finds himself nodding, waving over the bar maid to fill up his cup, thanking her when she pours the wine and immediately taking a sip, letting the crisp taste flood through him, “What are you now?”

Asteria eyes him, her eyes lingering on the marred skin of his hands. He supposes that’s one of the worst parts, people notice, they ask, and Azriel has to tell the story again and again. He’s had females shrink away from his touch, and Illyrians up in the mountains make a point of mocking him about them. The scars don’t define him, but that doesn’t stop the shame that crawls up his spine when they’re mentioned. 

 “I don’t know,” She says her eyes finding his, almost hesitantly, as if she’s standing on uneven ground, “Being here feels,” The female pauses, her brows furrowing, “It feels like-”

Before she can continue, a strum runs through the air, and Azriel turns around, seeing that the house band that he’d gotten to know very well over the past hundred years they’d been performing had taken their place on a small elevated stage. 

The quintette starts an upbeat opening number, the beat of a lambskin drum coming in beneath the melody of two loots, the players facing each other with glee at the beginning of their performance, the other instruments; a pianoforte and a standing bass come in a moment later, their sounds full and complete as they mix together with familiarity.

Azriel looks back to Asteria, and what he sees almost makes him drop his cup.

The female stares at the band with a wonder-filled intensity, eyes lined with tears and lips parted. As though she hadn’t been prepared for the music, but the surprise was exactly what she needed.

“Are you okay?”

Gaze snapping back to the Shadowsinger, Asteria rushes to wipe at her wet eyes, nodding, “Yes, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Azriel says, trying his best to sound soothing.

“It’s just-” Asteria utters, frantic gaze back on the musicians, “It’s been two hundred years since I’ve heard it.”

“A band?”

Asteria shakes her head, the melody swirling around them, building loud enough that if she didn’t hold every ounce of his attention, Azriel wouldn’t have heard her devastating words.

“Music,” She whispers, voice shaking, “It’s been two hundred years since I’ve heard music.”

Azriel can’t help it when his brows raise in surprise, bewildered, he looks back to the band, and then to Asteria. He swallows, eyes grazing over the scars on the sides of her neck, traveling to the low, thin scar that runs across the base of her throat. It looks as though it would be a killing blow. His fist clenches at his side, and he can’t help but wonder what fresh hell the female had endured to not only be rid of music for so long, but also get such lethal looking scars from wounds that probably should have killed her.

“Do you…” Azriel trails off, finding her silver lined eyes again and clearing his throat, “Do you want to dance?”

“No,” Asteria breathes, shaking her head, “No. I just want to listen.”

He watches as her eyes close, the unique shade of green in her eyes hidden as she tilts her head back, letting the music consume, and thunder through her. Azriel doesn’t move from her side, the shadows in his ears scolding him for even looking away from the female, let alone putting distance between them. 

One song melts into another, and then another, and Azriel doesn’t know how much time passes, but all he does is listen. He hears the band perform a set he’s sat through before, but his attention isn’t on them. It’s on Asteria. 

Asteria, who he can’t seem to figure out. 

Another song ends, and the female blinks open her eyes, looking over to the Shadowsinger, content, “This Realm is familiar,” She suddenly says, and when Azriel raises a brow, confused, she clarifies for him, “That’s what I was going to say before they started playing. Being here feels familiar.”

Azriel can’t help the curious tilt of his head, “Really?”

“Prythian and Erilea don’t seem to be very different from one another,” Asteria says, her eyes still locked on the musicians, the pianoforte in particular, “I think— I think I got lucky, ending up here, of all places. You’ve all been kind to me.”

“They’re all very kind,” Azriel utters, looking towards his friends, his family, with a warm, fond feeling spreading over his chest at the light hearted expressions on their faces, as if the war is already long behind them. A joy recovered by their love, their friendship. Bonds that will never be broken, “They make me proud to serve this Court.”

Asteria nods, her eyes filled with longing as the piano leads the way into a new song, “Do you think I can come back here again?” She asks, her voice coming out timid, and almost afraid. A stark contrast to the seemingly fearless female he’d seen in the ring earlier in the day, “To listen to more music?”

“Asteria, you don’t have to ask permission,” Azriel says, his tone serious enough to bring the devastatingly beautiful female’s eyes to his, “You can come here whenever you’d like.”

“Right,” Asteria nods, waving over the bar maid for more wine. 

When her cup is full, she takes a long sip, and Azriel watches as that wall she put up earlier eases down. It doesn’t move by much, but it’s progress. A sliver of progress. It’s enough that the Shadowsinger is able to make an easy decision.

He can’t seem to figure out Asteria, but he wants to. He desperately wants to.

-----

Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added) :

@bionic-donut @hollyismentallyillhelp​ @younxii @feyretopia @hideing

[thepastdied]

Oh I’d love to do the Kylo ask! How about something along the lines of him realizing how much he loves you? Like you two spend a lot of time together because of work and he has a moment when you’re with him that it hits him that he loves you.

A/N: I loved writing this, omg. Idk what to title it sooooo.. I'm sorry if there's any typos. Thanks for the request!!

Kylo wandered the Finalizer. It was sleeping hours and work ended several hours ago. He missed you already, watching you concentrate during meetings as you picked at your fingers. You would glance over at him trying to hide a smile and then close your eyes and pretend to sleep, causing him to almost chuckle and clear his throat. He wanted to see you later but he couldn't muster of the courage to ask. People were always pulling him aside to ask questions and he didn't need anyone noticing. But now no one was around and it was quiet aside from the buzzing of the cleaning droids. He contemplated sending you a message but was too shy to do even that. He took calming breaths, his mind was clear and he felt in a daze. This was rare. Everything has been well for a few days on the Finalizer. You two had been talking more. He would vent small things to you and immediately he would forget about why he was mad in the first place- just staring at your face hypnotized him. He passed an open room and flicked his eyes over for a moment. Why is someone up so late? He stopped in his tracks. His heart thumped in his chest.

"No.." He whispered and took a few quiet steps back. He poked his head in the doorway.

You were there making yourself a drink.

He put his back against the wall and closed his eyes.

"Fuck." He needed you right now. He wanted to talk with you and just enjoy your company. He was usually so angry whenever you were together due to the stress of his duties. But he was calm and wanted to show you this rare side of him.

He moved into the doorway and lightly tapped. Your head whipped toward him.

"Stars, you scared me." You laughed as you breathed out. He smirked.

"You get scared so easily, toughen up kid."

He came up beside you and looked over your shoulder.

"Kid? Really? You're only like 3 and a half years older than me, old man." You rolled your eyes and nudged him.

His heart skipped a beat. He shook his head and brushed it off.

"What are you making?"

"Coffee."

"That looks a lot more complicated than just a coffee."

"Well to be specific, it's a latte. Smoother than a regular coffee."

"Make me one."

You looked at him and your heart also skipped a beat. You felt the same way as he did and you were sure you weren't good at hiding it. But according to Kylo, you were. You smiled up at him.

"Sure. This is what I bring you during the conferences, you know."

He raised his eyebrows. He was impressed. You seemed to put so much effort into making a single drink, his drink- 2 times a week.

"And I enjoy every one of them." He responded.

"Why are you up so late? I have an excuse, you know I am due to the huge load of paperwork." You spoke as you continued to work on the drinks.

He shifted on his foot. He didn't want to tell you that he couldn't sleep. "I was thirsty and didn't feel like water."

He admired the way your hair spilled over your shoulders and curved down your back. A small strand fell to the side of your face as you laughed.

"You're a strange one, Ren. You walked all the way down here for a drink." You nudged him and attempted to blow the strand away. His breath hitched and he swallowed, feeling his heart rate quicken. He wanted to move it from your face. His hand twitched causing him to clench them shut. He couldn't say anything. He felt as if you were torturing him. He'd rather just cut out his tongue so he would never have to think about what to say next.

"Hey.. you alright? You've been quiet all day-" Your eyes don't meet his as you finish making your coffee. You laugh again but quietly, feeling more concerned than humorous.

"I mean you're always quiet. But it's different today." Stepping around him you glanced down the hallways, making sure no one was around before returning to Kylo, standing directly in front of him. You looked into his eyes.

"Kylo....I'm worried." He wanted to tell you it wasn't any of your business. He wanted to yell at you for standing so close. For looking so deeply into his eyes. For letting your eyes wander over his face and lingering on his lips. For making him take a step forward. For reaching out and-

"It's nothing, I lied earlier. I haven't slept lately," He grapped the cup that was beside you before taking a sip, "and I figured I might as well stay up."

You hummed and took a few deep breaths while his back was to you. What the fuck, he was so close I-

He was feeling the same. He was so close, why didn't he do anything. His hands were on the counter as he closed his eyes and took a breath. Grow some fucking balls, Ren.

"Let's hang out." The words just splurged out before he could think. He wanted to punch himself in the head. Or better, ask you to impale him with his own lightsaber- maybe Han style. He could have you do it for him and could die happily. His stomach was tied in knots and he was too afraid to even turn around. He wanted to just di-

"Really? Sweet, where you wanna go?" Yeah, you were feeling the same. But then again, he doesn't mean anything by it. You worked together, but were definitely close. I mean, you only would sit together at conferences, or lunch where neither of you ate but just had the most awkward small talk, or those nights where he would call you to ask the dumbest shit questions that he already knew the answer to. You drive yourself crazy everytime you think about these things.... the more you think about it, the more it seems like there's something there. You were startled and blinked a few times as Kylo coughed and then tried to clear his throat. You put a hand on his back between his shoulder blades, clenching your jaw at the chill that ran through you.

"I'm fine." He gave you a thumbs up. Bull shit. He pursed his lips and ran his tongue along his teeth in his mouth. His ears were pounding and he wanted to pass out. He spun around fast, his face stoic as he nonchalantly leaned against the counter with his crossed in front of him. I hope I look cool right now. He felt pathetic. Your lips parted the slightest as you quickly scanned him. He is trying to act.. confident? He seemed off, and both of you knew that. This tension was unbearable.

"Hellllooo mister.. where are we gonna go?" You waved your hand in front of his face. He was amused and barely scoffed. He snatched your hand quickly and you gasped.

"Woah what-" you let yourself tumble into him. Not onto him, just almost chest to chest. He leaned down and you felt his hair and breath on your forehead.

"Where do you wanna go?" You were too stunned to speak (yes, I know what I said). He is trying to play off how he really feels, he wants you to be the one all choked up. You were stuttering and eventually gave up, just swallowing as you craned your neck to look in his eyes. He lost it, you went too far. The way you looked at him before did nothing on what is happening now. You could see a range of emotions flash across his face. His eye locked onto your lips and he let out a breath that was very audible in the quiet room you both were in. You looked down at his lips too, then back to his eyes.

Bingo.

He caught you doing it in plain sight. Not just a glance, he analyzed this many times. It was a 'wow that's a yummy snack' glance. He bent his head down and your noses were inches from touching.

"What are you doing, y/n?" You furrowed your eyebrows. Really? REALLY? You wanted him to-

"Waiting for you to do something." You whispered.

Seriously, that was very bold of you. Suddenly his hand was on your neck. Not choking at all, just there. His thumb trailed to your jaw and his lips brushed yours.

"Still waiting." You whispered. He growled.

Oh shit, he's mad. Did you misunderstand him? I mean, he was clearly being all...

He grabbed you by your waist and picked you up, placing you on the counter. His hands remained there and he stepped in between your knees before he quickly leaned in and kissed you. He was stiff and inexperienced. You realized something. You didn't just like him, it wasn't a dumb crush anymore, it was something more. Maybe....nevermind.

Despite the situation, it was soft. It was his first kiss and he was nervous. He didn't want to overstep anything. There was no grip on your waist now, just his hands lightly resting there. He got ahead of himself before, but reality slapped him in the face. When you pulled apart he immediately got embarrassed.

"F...FUCK". His hand slapped over his face as he turned his back to you. You put your hand over your mouth, at first shocked by the kiss and his outburst but now laughing.

"Ren.. what.. I-I kissed you back". You kept your mouth covered, not wanting him to see that you were also blushing. He walked over to a corner and just put his head against the wall. He was feeling so many things. His face was hot, his stomach was going to explode with butterflies, his head felt light. He loves you. Fuck, he knows it now. There is absolutely no way he could tell you. You wanted to go over to him but decided on just waiting for him to collect himself. 

"Fuck." He said again, muffled by the wall.

"Kylo.." You weren't amused anymore.

"y/n."

"That's me."

He groaned for a few seconds and you stiffled a laugh. You can see the side of his face and he cracked a smile.

"I..uhm." He started. You knew he regretted it, and it was okay. He's Kylo Ren and doesn't need feelings holding him back-

"I think I love you."

He tightly shut his eyes. Well that's one way to do it.

You almost fell off the counter. He said it just so...

"I mean, I said think okay? It's whatever, I don't even know.. not a big deal." Wow, smooth Ren. You quickly walked over to him and shoved his shoulder.

"Think? THINK? Well figure it out right fucking NOW." His eyes were wide at your outburst, but he deserved it. He can't just bust out that he thinks he loves you and then brush it off.

"Should I kiss you again? Is that what you want? or maybe you should kis-" He is so annoying. You grabbed his face and smashed your lips at against his, happy to hear him stop talking. It didn't last long, maybe 5 seconds. You were too worked up to make it all nice and soft. You took a step back.

"Well. I think I love you too. I said think. So, it's whatever." You nonchalantly told him before turning around to walk out the door. Kylo went to follow you, stumbling over himself.

"W-wait y/n, uh.. you forgot your coffee." He pointed toward the counter with his thumb where your drink sat. You turned your head towards him.

"Then grab it. Let's hang out." He nodded his head before grabbing your drinks and following you. As soon as your back turned away from him he smiled.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Quick question sorry if this has been asked before: do you know any Johnlock fanfic where they’re extremely sensual? Like not just making love but just super methodically drawn out and slow and sweet?

Hi Nonny!!

Ahh, because of this ask, I went through my bookmarks to see if I have any listed with “sensuality” so that’s what this list is!! It definitely doesn’t have all of my fics because I have to go back through them and tag them, but in the meantime, enjoy what I started tagging a few months ago when you sent me this ask, LOL <3

As always, add your own fics here, Lovelies!!

SENSUALITY

See also:

Emotional Love Making || [MOBILE POST]

Emotional Love Making Pt. 2

Loved. by inevitably_johnlocked (G, 1,231 w., 1 Ch. || First Sherlock POV, Slice of Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Nose Kisses, Morning After, Love Confessions, Morning Cuddles, Emotional Sherlock, Sentiment, Bed Sharing) – Sherlock reflects on his relationship with John. Part 5 of I-J's Tumblr Ficlet Collection

Morning Sunlight by slashscribe (E, 3,565 w., 1 Ch. || PWP, Morning Sex, Fluff, PWP, Established Rel., Soft Idiots) – A thin band of soft morning light peeks between the curtains and stretches across John’s torso, laying dormant across his forearm, dipping into the space between his arm and his chest, illuminating his right nipple but just brushing the edge of his left, disappearing into his armpit, and reappearing again right over Sherlock’s eyes where his head rests, nestled against John’s shoulder. Sherlock is not annoyed by the light’s intrusion on his sleep, not when it rests so soft and tantalizing on John’s skin, a work of unintentionally erotic art. A PWP with so much emotion.

Living Musical by VeeTheRee (G, 4,149 w. 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Hobbies, Summer, Song Fic, POV Sherlock, Painting, Play Fighting, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Love Declarations, Hair Petting, Promise of Forever) – A one-shot of John and Sherlock being domestic during summer. There is paint, fluff, and music from Imagine Dragons, namely from the album 'Speak To Me', specific song in this one-shot is 'Living Musical'. Part 1 of the Happy Fluffy Johnlock Time series

London Gods by a_different_equation (E, 11,092 w., 5 Ch. || American Gods Fusion || Magical Realism, Sex Magic, True Love, PTSD John, First Kiss/Time, Marathon Sex, Sensuality, Genie Sherlock, Human John, Internalized Homophobia, Star-Crossed Lovers, Soul Mates) – Sherlock Holmes is a jinn who does not grant wishes. However, when Dr. John H. Watson, recently returned from the war in Afghanistan, gets into his cab by "accident", it might not even need magic to grant both men their deepest wish: love.

To be loved by Strange_johnlock (E, 12,436 w., 8 Ch. || Post S3, Established Relationship, First Person POV Sherlock, Pet Names, Soft Sherlock, Mild ADHD, Protective John, Captain Watson, Body Appreciation, Bottomlock, Rough Sex, Travelling for Holidays, Introspection, Sherlock Loves John So Much It Hurts) – John is so deeply integrated into the work, both as my conductor of light, and as a great shot with a vicious right hook who tackles men -and women- no matter their size all in my defense. He protects me with all he can without question, and this loyalty is surely more than I deserve. Or: Sherlock is counting his blessings.

The Invocation of Saint Margaret by Ewebie (E, 15,831 w., 1 Ch. || POV John,  Crossing Timelines, Light Angst, Fluff, Series 3 John / Series 1 Sherlock, The Matchbox, Mushy Romance, First Time, Bisexual John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Sensuality, Emotional Love Making, Snippets of Time) – When Sherlock Holmes opens the matchbox from The Sign of Three and John finds himself years in the past, back to that first dinner at Angelo's with a much younger Sherlock Holmes. Is he dreaming?

Permanent Fixture by vitruvianwatson (E, 18,836 w., 9 Ch. || Post-S4, Parentlock, Slow Build, Friends to Lovers, They’re Good Parents, Blushing Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Explicit Consent, Sexual Content, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Big Feelings, Crying, First Kiss, Fluff, Anxious Sherlock, Inexperienced Sherlock, Emotional Communication, Love Confessions) – Now, as Rosie sat curled up against Sherlock’s side, John watched and wondered exactly how he had ended up here. Domesticity had never suited him before, not at any point in his life. His disastrous marriage had been proof of that. But somehow, here in the warmth and safety of 221B Baker Street, here with Sherlock Holmes reading medical jargon to his daughter, Sherlock’s bony feet nudging against his leg, John couldn’t imagine anyplace that would make him happier.

Division by MrsNoggin (E, 19,542 w., 11 Ch. || Coffee Shop AU || First Kiss/Time, Fluff, Barista Sherlock, Clingy Sherlock, POV John, John’s Limp, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles, Sensuality, Touching, Virgin Sherlock, Insecure John) – John likes mysteries. And every morning he dips into the local independent coffee bar with his newspaper and ponders another... one Sherlock Holmes.

Through the Clouds by Mazarin221b (E, 20,004 w., 6 Ch. || Retirement, Sussex, Bees, Home Improvement, First Time, Romance) – Sherlock takes a remarkably early retirement at 47, and convinces John that a change of pace would do them both good. They buy an old cottage on the South Downs, and exchange their nonstop life in Baker Street for quiet contemplation, bee studies, and book writing. They might go completely insane, but sometimes it takes stepping outside of the life you're living to find the life you want. Part 1 of Through The Clouds

How To Unfold a Heart by elwinglyre (E, 25,477 w., 7 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It, BAMF John, Mentioned Eurus, POV First Person Sherlock, Case Fic, Fluff, Slow Burn, Topping from the Bottom, 3 Yr Old Rosie, Introspection, Sexual Fantasies, John Worship, Ogling, Hand Holding, Kidnapping, Domesticity, Sherlock Whump, First Kiss/Time, Doctor John, Caring John, Soft Sherlock, Sensuality, Touching, Crying, Love Confessions, Anxious Sherlock, Rimming, Toplock, Fingering, Bossy Bottom John) – To Sherlock’s dismay, John’s return to Baker Street with Rosie is only temporary. Sherlock’s daily visits to Regent Park with John and Rosie illuminate his lost childhood memories and missed opportunities. But with each trip to the park, Sherlock also feels a growing sense of hope. That is until the past horrors return unexpectedly in a cryptic note folded in the shape of a heart. To decipher the message, Sherlock must uncover the nature of the hearts around him, including his own.

Lucifer's Gardens by ampersand_ch (E, 32,679 w., 12 Ch. || GERMAN VERSION || Romance, Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Murder, Poison / Drugging, Mystery, John Undercover, Academic Club, Therapy, Rituals, Jungian Archetypes, Doctors & Physicians, Grief/Mourning, Esotericism, Hospitals, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, John Falls In Love With Another Man, Jealous Sherlock, Crying, Doctor John, Hand Holding, First Kiss/Time, Mysticism, Hugging, Touching) – John goes undercover for an investigation as a favour to Lestrade in a village in Suffolk. The events surrounding the case awaken deep-seated fears in Sherlock. While John begins to come to a realisation of what he needs in Lucifer's Gardens, Sherlock tries to find a way to reach John – in more ways than one.

A Promise Made to Be Broken by PlantsAreNeat (E, 37,018 w., 7 Ch. || Fake Relationship, Pining, Slow Burn, RST, Eventual Relationship, POV Sherlock) – A young John makes an ‘if we’re still single at 40, we’ll get together’ pledge to a woman who ends up all wrong for him. She keeps reminding him of the promise, and won’t let go of it. John asks Sherlock to pose as his boyfriend at a family wedding, so as to dash her hopes permanently. Sherlock, who has at last acknowledged his feelings for John, reluctantly agrees despite knowing how painful it will be to ‘have’ John, but not keep him.

Gold Rush by ShirleyCarlton (E, 71,783 w., 17 Ch. || Post S3 / No Mary, Friends to Lovers, Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse, First Kiss, Case Fic, Slow Burn, Alternating POV, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Marriage Proposal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abduction, Anxious/Insecure Sherlock, Miscommunication, Emotional Lovemaking) – John has divorced Mary and pops round to 221B one evening to find Sherlock in the middle of a case. As Sherlock tries to find the identity of a young woman’s stalker, John realises he can no longer deny his feelings for Sherlock – which then, to their befuddlement, turn out to be mutual. Shy kisses and tentative embraces ensue. But will Sherlock be able to cast off a shadow from his past that he thinks might prevent John from wanting to stay?

Repairing the Broken Things by BakerTumblings (M, 75,252 w., 15 Ch. || S4 Compliant, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Trauma, Hospitals, Big Brother Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Realizations, Severe Accident, John Whump, Pneumonia, Medical Procedures, Bed Sharing, First Time, Healing, Happy Ending) – "I'm calling today to notify you that there's been an accident."

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w., 27 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU ||  BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Drug Rehab, Falling in Love, Pining Sherlock, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Panic Attacks, Switching, Anxious / Protective Sherlock, Hugs for Comfort, Suicide Mentions, Healing Each Other) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn't truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes." Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns.

[theforgottenmcrmy]

After All (Part 6/?)

Pairing: Riff x OC Jet Girl

Warnings: Explicit Language, Racism, Suggestions of Violence

Summary: After all, fair is fair.

Word Count: 7200 ish.

DISCLAIMER

Please note that this is a reimagining of the film West Side Story (2021) and as a result is slightly AU.

Additional Disclaimer: I tried my best to search for popular names of Northern African/Egyptian/Arabic origin in the early to mid 1900s. Unfortunately, though I was able to find charts and several pages of popular names (primarily of English/Irish origin) in America in the 1930s-1950s, I wasn’t successful. As a result, the names of OCs used in this chapter may be popular names today, but not necessarily during that time period. I am sorry I wasn’t able to obtain more accurate information and names.

Masterlist /// Part 1 /// Part 5 /// Part 6 /// Part 7

A/N: Part 5 can be found here. Welp, it took 4 parts, but the confrontation(s) is finally here. Thank you all again for everything- the likes, messages, and kind words. I hope you guys like reading this chapter as much as I liked writing it. If you do enjoy, please feel free to give it a like. :)

Part 6: Reunion

School was finally out for the summer.

To say that Baby John was excited to be free of the classes that dragged on and the pointless homework assignments that he rarely completed was an understatement. He found it particularly difficult to attend school the final week, but whenever he showed up at the auto shop in the morning to hang out with the gang, it didn’t take long for Riff to catch on to what he was trying to do. Riff had basically forced Baby John and Mouthpiece out the door most days.

Some of the guys didn’t understand why he even bothered to keep going to school, but Riff and some of the other guys, like Numbers, had always insisted that they go. It was only a few hours a day, anyways, they’d said. They had a point- Baby John knew that most of the guys who didn’t work at the shop couldn’t be counted on to wake up before noon, anyways. There wouldn’t be any trouble he’d need to help them out with.

Since school was finally out, Riff, Numbers, and anyone else couldn’t say a thing if Baby John chose to come and hang out at the shop in the morning for the next two months or so. It was far better than staying at home.

Mouthpiece had had the same idea as him, and he met up with him on the way. When Baby John and Mouthpiece arrived at the auto shop that morning, the garage door was already open. Diesel and Snowboy were already working on whatever car they’d been brought. Ice and Action were there too, hanging out.

Baby John contemplated asking Snowboy and Diesel to show him what they were working on when he heard the sound of rapidly clicking heels. A moment later, someone brushed past him and Mouthpiece to walk through the garage door and enter the shop.

The rest of the gang fell silent as all heads turned to the visitor. Baby John recognized her as the woman from the park the other day.

“Where is he?” she demanded.

While the rest of the guys exchanged looks, Action took a step towards her and said, “He’s busy.”

She ignored him, and glanced up at the landing. “Is he upstairs?”

“Like I said, he’s busy,” Action repeated firmly, glaring at her.

She pursed her lips for a moment, before taking a step towards him. “Go tell him I need to talk to him, then,” she told him evenly, not looking away.

Baby John watched apprehensively as Action grew visibly angry. Action only ever took orders from Riff. Action opened his mouth to respond to her, but stopped when a door opened.

Everyone in the room looked up at the landing and watched as Riff stepped out of the apartment. He looked down at the group with a neutral expression, and immediately spotted the visitor. He wordlessly gestured for her to come up.

Baby John and the rest of the guys quietly watched as the woman stepped around Action and walked over to and up the stairs. Riff watched her as well, and gestured for her to enter the apartment first. She did, and he quickly followed, shutting the door firmly behind them. 

————————————————————————————

This was happening.

Riff really couldn’t even begin to wrap his head around what was going on as he allowed her to walk past him and into the apartment. As he shut the door behind them, Roxie took a look around the room, immediately spotting a figure sleeping on a cot nearby. It was Gee-Tar. Riff silently pointed to his bedroom. She walked across the room and entered, and he was right on her heels.

Riff shut the bedroom door behind them, taking a moment to contemplate his words. His mind was beginning to race as he slowly turned to face her. “You know,” he began nonchalantly, and almost jokingly, “When Velma said you’d come to me, I didn’t think it would be this soon-”

His jest was interrupted when she thrusted a piece of paper into his hands.

“I’m sure you’ll know what this means.”

Confused, Riff looked down at the paper, and what he saw angered him immediately. “Where did ya get this?” he demanded, looking at her for an explanation.

“I found it taped to the outside of my window.”

Riff took another look at the paper. It’d been a long time since he’d seen it, but he’d recognize the symbol of the Egyptian Kings anywhere. Someone had taped this to the outside of her window?

The Jets had beaten the Egyptian Kings fair and square. When it was all said and done, the Jets had paid for it by losing Tony, and the Egyptian Kings had paid for it by almost losing one of their own. Maybe some of them still lived in the West Side, but after the rumble, the gangs activity ceased immediately. Until now.

Riff recalled what Velma had said to him the day before- about how someone had followed Roxie home. He didn’t know who it had been then, but he had a good idea now.

“I trust you’ll take care of this?” she asked him.

“I’ll take care of it,” he swore.

In response, Roxie nodded understandingly. She looked away from him, and looked around the room. “Velma told me you were here now,” she informed him, her tone oddly conversational in comparison to how angry she had been just a few moments before.

“Yeah,” Riff said simply, watching her every move curiously.

“It’s more than I expected,” she confessed quietly. Was that a complement?

Roxie’s eyes finally fell on the desk, where he had left the shop’s books open  “You always make a habit of snooping ‘round people’s things?” Riff teased, a small smile playing on his lips.

She looked away quickly, a bit embarrassed. “Sorry.”

An awkward silence fell over the room.

“So… ya back in the neighborhood for a bit?” he dared to ask her then.

If Riff had known that his question would have gotten such an angry response from her, he would have kept his mouth shut. Roxie’s brows furrowed, and she glared at him. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Riff held up his hands defensively. “Just tryin’ to make pleasant conversation.”

“I think you forfeited the right to pleasantries when you decided you no longer wanted anything to do with me.”

That stung a bit, but Riff had known it was likely she’d still feel that way. He felt that guilt and doubt creeping up on him once again. “Forget I asked, then,” he snapped in response, his words coming out a bit more harshly than he had intended.

She said nothing. After another moment, Riff looked down at her, analyzing her thoughtfully.

He had seen her the other day, but that was at a distance. Part of him was still in disbelief that she was here, right in front of him. As Riff continued to look at her, he found himself subconsciously noting things. Her hair was longer now. He recognized the dress she was wearing. Even the angry expression she was giving him was oddly familiar.

Roxie noticed him staring. “What?” she questioned, sounding angry but also a bit self-conscious.

He snapped out of his thoughts and recovered quickly. “Nothin’.”

She sighed deeply, and looked up at him with a grave look in her eyes. “Take care of this, Riff,” she pleaded, her voice much quieter than before. She was putting on a strong front, but she every now and then, her composure had slipped. She was scared, he realized.

He nodded. “I will.”

Once, Riff had resigned himself to the fact that he’d likely never see her again. If he had known that wouldn’t be the case, he certainly wouldn’t have wanted the reunion to be under these circumstances. Despite this, Riff found himself recalling the last time he had ever had a conversation with Roxie. He realized with an odd sense of fondness of how she’d been yelling at him then, too.

Maybe this time, after he resolved the situation, the memory of his last conversation with her could be replaced with something more positive.

————————————————————————————

Diesel would’ve paid a pretty penny to be a fly on the wall to whatever conversation was going on in the apartment upstairs. Judging by the looks that the rest of the guys were exchanging with each other, they would have done the same.

When the door finally opened some time later, all eyes went up to the landing. Roxie was the first to exit the apartment, followed by Riff, who shut the door closed behind them.

As Roxie walked down the stairs, everyone watched her silently, but she didn’t meet any of their eyes. Everyone continued to watch as she walked past them through the garage and exited through the open garage door.

It was silent for a moment. Then, everyone’s eyes turned to Riff, who had remained in his spot on the landing. He’d been watching her leave, too. When he realized everyone was looking at him, he headed down the stairs as well. When he joined the rest of the guys, he immediately headed over towards Action.

“Can I talk to ya for a moment?” Riff asked Action quietly. Action nodded, and the two of them headed out the garage door as well.

Once the pair was out of sight, the rest of the guys exchanged knowing looks for a moment, before going back to business. Though, it was notably quieter than it had been before.

As Diesel resigned himself to try and focus on making some more headway on solving the transmission problem on the Chevrolet, he noticed Baby John lingering nearby.

Diesel spared him a brief glance as he began rummaging through a nearby toolbox. “Hey kid, something on your mind?”

Baby John nodded. “So… that girl, the same one I ran into last week?” the younger man began.

“Yeah?” Diesel prompted, smiling to himself as he figured where this was going.

Baby John looked a bit nervous as he contemplated how to phrase his question. “Were she and Riff ever…?”

Diesel found the wrench he had been searching for, and stood up straight, with a knowing smile. He looked towards the garage door, noting that neither Riff or Action had returned yet. His smile grew wider, and he shut the lid of the tool box with a small twitch of his foot. Kicking the toolbox lightly in Baby John’s direction, he advised, “It’s quite a tale, ya might wanna take a seat.”

Baby John sat down with another word.

“Come on, Diesel,” Mouthpiece warned, noting the wary look that Ice was giving him.

Diesel shrugged, and opened the hood of the Chevrolet.

“Riff only ever said we couldn’t associate with her no more,” Snowboy acknowledged, seeing where Diesel was going.

Diesel wasn’t sure where Riff stood on that issue currently, considering the additional knowledge he had on the subject, and what he and the rest of the guys just witnessed, but it wasn’t super relevant at that moment.

“My point exactly!” Diesel replied, smiling at Snowboy. “Has Riff ever said we couldn’t talk about it?” he asked the room, but while doing so, he looked at Ice specifically. Ice rolled his eyes disapprovingly in response.

Diesel looked at Mouthpiece. “Besides, you weren’t even there back in the day when she was. Ya tellin’ me you aren’t the least bit curious?” Diesel then gestured to Baby John, who was still seated on the toolbox nearby. “At least he’s upfront about it.”

Mouthpiece tilted his head thoughtfully.

“Make it quick,” Ice advised, relenting. “If Riff and Action come back and hear ya, ain’t none of us covering for your big mouth.

“Once upon a time,” Diesel began enthusiastically in a dramatic fashion, a playful twinkle in his eye.

Snowboy scoffed at his antics. “You better cut to the chase,” he suggested to Diesel, “or else you’re gonna lose your audience.”

As if to make a point, Baby John sat up straighter, clearly tired. “Huh?” he asked, realizing that everyone was looking at him. “Nah, I’m good,” he insisted quickly.

“Long story short,” Diesel corrected himself, looking pointedly at Snowboy, “Those two go way back.”

“How far back?” Mouthpiece asked then.

“When Riff and Tony started the Jets, she was around then,” Snowboy answered, coming to stand beside Diesel. He looked inquisitively underneath the hood of the Chevrolet, as if trying to diagnose the issue.

“So, she’s Riff’s old girlfriend?” Baby John proposed.

Diesel, Snowboy, and Ice broke into a fit of laughter.

Baby John frowned in confusion. “What?”

Once he regained his composure, Ice answered, “Riff never said that in so many words.”

“All we ever knew was that she was absolutely off limits,” Snowboy clarified, “and that she was his partner for every dance.”

“She used to be ‘round a lot,” Diesel recalled. “Before she left, she was always the one patchin’ us up and whatnot.”

“A-Rab mentioned she was ‘back’. Where’d she go?” Mouthpiece questioned.

“Like Action said the other week,” Snowboy replied, “She went to a fancy university on the other side of town. She was smart like that.”

“She helped me pass Algebra freshman year,” Gee-Tar reminisced, coming down the landing stairs to join the group. His hair was still disheveled from sleep.

“Didn’t you drop outta school the next semester?” Ice recollected, raising an eyebrow at him.

Gee-Tar shrugged. “Still passed it that year,” he muttered.

Baby John had been with the Jets for a very short amount of time, but already couldn’t imagine his life without them. Getting an education after high school wasn’t a very likely option for him. He was already concerned about his ability and decreasing motivation to finish high school, even though he knew that failing to do so would destroy his mother.  But, even if he had an opportunity to continue his education, he doubted he’d be willing to make the decision to part from the Jets.

“Why’d she leave?” Baby John asked curiously.

He couldn’t have known about the complicated answer to his question, but thankfully, the guys were spared from formulating an answer when Action returned to the shop. Riff was not with him.

“Sorry, fellas,” Diesel said, smiling at Baby John and Mouthpiece apologetically. “That’s a story for another day.” He took another glance at Action, and added quietly, “Plus, you oughta form your own opinion on the matter.”

Ice nodded at Action. “Where’s Riff?”

“He’s gotta handle some business. You and me gotta head out now, too,” Action informed him. Then, to one in particular, Action added, “Riff asked you not to burn the place down ‘til he gets back.”

Diesel rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Why would I do that? I’d lose my place to sleep!”

“You could always crash at Velma’s,” Snowboy suggested, immediately ducking a punch Diesel threw at him.

————————————————————————————

The scouting Riff did throughout the day didn’t turn up anything. He checked all the old Egyptian Kings hangouts in the neighborhood that he could remember. There wasn’t a sign of them. It meant one of two things: either they were hiding very well, or that there weren't that many of them to be found.

If Riff ventured to guess, it was only one of them, and if that was true, he knew who it had to be.

“Are you sure this is where you’re supposed to meet?” Action asked.

They both stood huddled on a dark street corner. It normally would have been lit up, but the nearby streetlight had needed a new lightbulb for some months now.

This particular street corner’s closeness to the highway underpass just a bit aways made it the perfect vantage point. So far, no one was down there. If anyone showed up though, Riff and Action would be able to spot them immediately.

“Positive,” Riff confirmed, his eyes not leaving the underpass. 

Action hadn’t turned up anything during his search during the day, and neither had Ice, which further confirmed Riff’s suspicions. “I asked Ice to make sure she gets home alright, like ya asked,” Action informed him neutrally. “Just in case this is a decoy.”

Riff mumbled a thanks, but he knew this wasn’t likely to be a trap. If he had thought that was the case, he would’ve had more Jets keeping an eye on Roxie than just Ice, but it was better than nothing in the worst case scenario.

Action pivoted, taking a look around the block. “I don’t like this, Riff,” he declared.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Riff replied dismissively, eyes still fixed on the underpass so that he wouldn’t miss any movement. “It’s just a meeting. I’ll see what he wants, and we can go from there.”

“We should’ve brought backup,” Action disagreed.

“We ain’t seen any of them around,” Riff reminded him patiently. “We can’t just come chargin’ in with the whole crew. We’d never find out what he wants. Not to mention, if a cop saw all of us versus one guy? We’d all get locked up.” Like Tony. “Trust me Action, if ya think it’s bad out here, I know for a fact it’s worse in there.”

Action said nothing further.

The sound of church bells rang through the air, signaling that it was midnight.

Right on que, Riff spotted some movement coming from the far end of the underpass. Without taking his eyes off of it, he reached back, and blindly smacked Action’s arm lightly in order to grab his attention. Action looked as well.

“I only see one,” he noted.

“Exactly.”

The figure began to look around, as if searching for someone.

Riff finally tore his eyes away from the underpass to look at Action. “Stay back,” he ordered him firmly. “Unless you see someone else movin’ in, I want you to stay put.”

He could tell Action was not thrilled by the idea, but he nodded in confirmation nonetheless. As Riff left Action to head down the block, he kept his eyes peeled, not wanting to miss something. His suspicions about who had called the meeting were confirmed when he entered the underpass and recognized who was waiting there for him.

“Asim.”

The former leader of the Egyptian Kings smiled at him politely. It had been almost a year since Riff had last seen him, but he looked the same.

“Riff,” Asim greeted him in a warm tone. It was a bit off-putting, considering the circumstances under which they had last met, but Riff decided to let it slide. “I see you found the place alright.”

Riff glanced around the underpass briefly. “Your note was lacking in detail,” he informed him. “But I figured it’d be here.”

The underpass is where the rumble with the Egyptian Kings went down. Riff glanced over to his left, recalling that that spot was about where he’d given Asim a black eye that night, and it was also where Asim had given him a broken nose in return. He then glanced over to his right, and recalled that that was about where Tony had almost beaten that one kid to death.

“You got my note, then?” Asim inquired in an odd tone. Riff knew that his question wasn’t quite what it seemed. Riff looked at him once again, noting the smile he was still wearing.

“Yeah,” Riff answered stiffly. “Ya couldn’t just come up to me, one on one?”

“When would I have had the opportunity? You’re always surrounded by your Jets. If I had approached you then, I would’ve been jumped on site.”

“So, you choose to follow a girl late at night instead?”

Asim nodded his head. “Yes. I was in the neighborhood visiting my friend and his family last week, and I thought I recognized her on the street. When I finally remembered where I recognized her from, I also remembered how you used to walk her home from the factory.”

Riff wasn’t aware that Asim, or anyone in the Egyptian Kings for that matter, had ever known about that. Riff had walked Roxie home from work merely as a precaution back then, but had never expected actual trouble. With this new information, part of him wondered what could have happened if he hadn’t. Then, he thought about how Tony walked Roxie home after Riff broke it off with her. He mentally added it to the long and seemingly ever-growing list of things to discuss and thank Tony for the next time he saw him.

“You should know that she ain’t associated with the Jets no more,” Riff stated candidly.

“Is that so?” Asim tilted his head, giving Riff a nearly remorseful look. “My apologies; I figured as much when I realized you are no longer her ‘guard dog’.”

Riff didn’t like the way Asim kept bringing Roxie up, but he knew losing his cool wouldn’t solve anything or do him any favors. Plus, if he got visibly irritated, he had a feeling that Action may jump the gun and join them, and there was no telling how Asim would react to that.

“Let’s say we skip the pleasantries,” Riff suggested bluntly. “What do ya want?”

“That friend of yours…?”

Riff knew immediately who he was referring to. “Tony.”

“Do you think Tony feels sorry about what he did?”

Riff wasn’t sure how to respond to that question. Tony was locked up for it- surely he regretted the fact that his actions led to that. But as for his conscience? Riff barely had the time or energy to think about his own conscience, let alone Tony’s.

“I will take your silence as my answer.”

“I don’t think he meant to take things that far,” Riff offered. It was the truth.

“But things did go that far, and my friend, Essam, almost lost his life,” Asim argued. “That’s who I visited last week.”

Riff listened, waiting to see where exactly Asim was going with this.

“Since last year, I’ve moved out of the neighborhood, I’ve got a job now, and I’ve got a nicer apartment than I ever had here,” Asim continued. “But I know where I came from. Thanks to you and your Jets, the Egyptian Kings are no more, but I still care about the well being of my brothers. Unlike me, Essam’s family wasn’t so lucky. After what happened to him, his family had no choice but to borrow money to pay for his medical bills. Your Tony wasn’t going to pay for them.”

Riff felt the anger in him starting to rise a bit, but he bit the inside of his cheek to try and keep it at bay. “Tony is in prison for it,” Riff reminded him heatedly.

“That’s how all you people think problems are solved,” Asim replied in disgust. “Just put the criminals in ‘time out’, and then everyone can move on, right? Wrong. Essam’s family borrowed from loan sharks. Guess who has come knocking?”

Riff had had a run in or two with a few loan sharks throughout the course of his life. They usually had ties to the more serious criminals… the ‘family’ of criminals. Whether the loan sharks were on the bottom rung of the organization or not, if they came to collect, you paid up, or suffered serious repercussions.

It was unfortunate, but Riff had problems of his own, namely, keeping the Jets safe and on top. “Well, like I said, Tony’s in prison,” Riff repeated. “What do ya expect me to do ‘bout it?”

“Essam’s family has been given a month to pay five hundred dollars. It’s taken me a week to track you down and meet with you, so I’ll give you two weeks to come up with it.”

Riff, despite the situation, found himself smiling in disbelief. “You’re tryin’ to shake me down for money?”

“I’m giving you an opportunity to make amends,” Asim corrected. “Do the right thing, Riff; get me the five hundred dollars, and you’ll never see me again.”

Riff still couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “And what happens if I don’t pay up?”

“I moved out of the neighborhood, but, like Essam, not all of us were so fortunate.” Asim sighed, though he didn’t seem particularly upset. “It would be a shame if the Egyptian Kings started causing trouble for you and your Jets, wouldn’t it?”

By this point, Riff was really starting to hate the way Asim was saying ‘Jets’. “We’ve beaten you once in a rumble, and we’d do it again,” he promised.

“Maybe,” Asim admitted. “But, I’ve heard some rumors. You Jets like to cause quite a stir. You’ve been making trouble for yourselves with the Puerto Ricans.”

Riff was starting to understand what Asim was suggesting, and he didn’t like it one bit.

“I’ve heard those people are particularly receptive to honesty,” Asim noted. “Perhaps the Jets would beat the Egyptian Kings in a rumble again. However, do you like your odds of beating the Egyptian Kings and the Sharks?”

Riff believed in the Jets with just about everything he had in him, and he trusted his guys with his life. Still, even he had to admit that the Jets’ odds of rallying against not one, but two rival gangs at the same time would likely to mean their downfall. Riff could tell guys the truth, and try to rally them to the cause. They’d likely support him without a second thought. But what kind of leader would he be if he knowingly led them into a losing battle?

“Fine,” Riff finally said, the inside of his cheek finally becoming raw as he continued to bite it out of anger. “I’ll pay you.”

“Wise decision,” Asim praised.

“No more involving the girl,” Riff demanded, recalling Roxie and the reason he’d even known about the meeting. “We agreed long ago that the women stay outta this.”

“I did agree to that,” Asim admitted. “But that was foolish, and impossible. Was Essam’s mother left out of our affairs when she sat by his hospital bed for days on end, unsure of whether her son would live to see the next day? Was Essam’s little sister uninvolved when she saw his face beaten to a pulp, and wondered if she would ever be able to physically recognize her brother again?”

These were factors that Riff had never really considered. Most of the Jets’ family lives were comparable to garbage. Drunk father, junkie mother, dead parents altogether- you name it, at least one of them had it. The fact that Essam had a mother and sister who also suffered as a result of Tony’s, but more broadly, the Jets’, actions didn’t sit too well with him. That had never been the plan. Riff didn’t know them, but he could pretty safely assume that they didn’t deserve what Asim was describing, if Asim was telling him the truth..

“I’ll meet you here again in two weeks from today, at the same time,” Asim said then. “Bring the money, Riff. Don’t let another innocent girl suffer the consequences of the Jets’ actions.”

Riff was angry, and he knew Asim was taking too much joy in this. Still, there was something about Asim’s tone that made him want to believe that he didn’t want to involve Roxie. However, Riff knew Asim, and considering his personal stake in the issue and how much effort he had already put in to meet with him, Riff knew he wouldn’t be deterred from playing dirty this time.

“After all, fair is fair,” Asim finished. “I’ll see you in two weeks.”

————————————————————————————

The next morning, Roxie was in her bedroom, finally getting around to unpacking the last of her bags. She was determined to find just about anything to do in order to take her mind off the ominous note she received. That, and the fact that she had seen Riff again for the first time in over a year.

Seeing him again stirred up all kinds of feelings she had believed were dead and buried. The possibility that they still existed was worrisome, and it frustrated her.

One of the bags contained her various papers and other materials from the past two semesters. Roxie had been avoiding opening that one in particular since she knew it would sour her mood. However, given that she was already in a bad mood, she decided that there wouldn’t be a better opportunity. The first item in the bag was the letter she received regarding the final status of her scholarship. She sighed, wondering if she would have a more difficult time than she had originally thought.

Roxie set the letter on her bed, and turned to head towards the kitchen for a drink. As she opened her door, she heard an odd tapping. She glanced at the door, looking for some part of the frame that may have been loose. Then, she heard the tapping again. She turned around, looking for the source.

It was coming from the window. Against her better judgment, she walked over to it, and withdrew the curtains.

It was Riff, on her fire escape, tapping away on the glass.

Roxie frowned at him. She unlocked and opened the window quickly, before stepping aside and allowing him to climb through. Once he was inside the room, she shut the window.

Turning to Riff, she demanded, “How did you even know what fire escape was outside my window?”

“Velma told me what unit,” he answered simply, looking around the room. “It was just some simple math, sweetheart.”

Hearing him call her that also stirred up feelings, which bothered her even more. She chose to ignore it. “I have a front door, you know.”

He shrugged, still walking around the room and looking at her belongings with mild interest. “Velma mentioned you had a roommate. I didn’t know if she was in.”

“She’s at work,” Roxie informed him. She looked at him, noting the dark circles under his eyes immediately. “You look like hell,” she observed.

Riff finally paused, and looked down at her. “Thanks,” he deadpanned. “I didn’t get much sleep last night. Ya know, I thought you’d wanna know about the meeting, but maybe I should just go.” As he moved to walk past her and back to the window, Roxie reached out to stop him, and her fingers wrapped around his wrist.

He froze, and she released her grip immediately. “No, I’m sorry,” she said quietly. As Riff turned to face her once again, she asked, “It was Asim, wasn’t it?”

Riff nodded, but said nothing.

“What did he want?”

“What does everyone in this neighborhood want?” he asked rhetorically. “He wants money.”

Roxie laughed humorlessly. “We all want money. He can get in line.”

Riff was silent.

Roxie furrowed her brows, confused by his lack of response. “You’re not going to pay him, are you?”

“I don’t have a choice,” he replied, walking over to the window. He placed his palms on the frame for support as he leaned over and looked out the glass. “The Jets can’t have the Egyptian Kings and the Sharks comin’ at us at once. If I don’t pay up, that’s exactly what’ll happen.”

“Sounds like you shouldn’t have started problems with the Sharks,” Roxie commented. Riff said nothing in response. “How much does he want? Surely you’ve got some money from the auto shop saved up.”

Riff laughed once, but it was humorless. He pushed off the window frame, and stood straight once again. He turned to face her, a joyless expression on his face. “Roxie, I know you saw the books yesterday,” he informed her. “The shop’s in the red.”

That’s what it looked like when she caught a glance of them on his desk, but she didn’t want to believe it. “How much does he want?” she asked again.

“I already told ya too much.”

“Don’t do that,” Roxie snapped suddenly. Upon her response, he watched her carefully, his cool blue eyes focusing on her. “Don’t shut me out again,” she clarified, her tone noticeably gentler. “I’m already involved. I deserve to know what’s going on.”

Riff knew she was right. “You’re more involved than ya know,” he admitted quietly.

She knew almost immediately what he meant. “He was the one who followed me home, wasn’t he?”

Riff nodded slowly.

“How much?” she repeated a third time.

“Five hundred.”

Roxie cursed under her breath. That was almost an entire semester’s worth of tuition. She ran a hand through her hair. “There has to be some way to come up with the money,” she insisted.

“Well, if ya got any ideas, I’m all ears,” Riff told her. After a moment, he added, “Short of robbin’ a bank, that is.”

Despite the tension, Roxie chuckled. “Glad to see you still have some standards,” she teased quietly.

Riff gave her a small smile.

A silence fell over the room.

Riff withdrew a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “Do ya mind?”

Roxie shook her head, and took a step around him to open the window. She watched as he took out a cigarette and lit it. Riff noticed her staring, and held the pack out to her as an offering. She took one, giving him a small, gracious smile.

As he lit the cigarette for her, her eyes glazed over him without her realizing it. The bracelet that had once belonged to his mother was still clasped on the wrist of his hand that held the lighter. Her eyes shifted upwards, and she noted the pendant that he’d always worn was still around his neck, though it was mostly hidden underneath his shirt. Her eyes traveled even further up, and she found herself staring as his cool blue eyes focused on the task at hand.

For a few minutes, it was quiet as the pair smoked their cigarettes, taking turns flicking the ashes out the window and onto the fire escape.

“I almost forgot the taste,” Roxie commented conversationally, looking out the window.

Riff looked down at her, slightly confused by her odd remark. “Yeah? When’s the last time ya smoked?”

Roxie exhaled the smoke thoughtfully, her eyes still fixed on something in the distance. “Well, the last time would have been with you, so…”

It was true. Smoking was allowed on campus, but her particular dorm had a policy against it due to a few of the resident’s smoke allergies. The closest convenience store was still a bit aways from campus. Finally, she realized how expensive everything was. Food and other personal items took priority over cigarettes fairly quickly.

Another silence fell over the pair.

“I’m sorry ‘bout your aunt.”

The sincerity in Riff’s tone finally broke Roxie from her trance, and she looked up at him in disbelief. “You hated her,” she accused, not understanding his sentiment.

“Maybe. But you didn’t.”

Roxie realized he was right. Her aunt had done some awful things over the years. She’d talked about Riff, Tony, and all the other Jets poorly, and treated them terribly in person whenever the opportunity had presented itself. On the other hand, her aunt had been the one to take her in when her mother died, and she had single handedly spared her having to live the remainder of her childhood in an orphanage. Her aunt had forced her to study hard and keep her grades up. Her aunt had made sure that she had an opportunity to get out of the neighborhood and make a better life for herself. Though her methods were extremely questionable, it was hard to fault her reasoning behind her actions and behaviors.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, looking away from his gaze.

“You’re not just here to wrap up her affairs, are ya?” Riff guessed.

Roxie hesitated. She knew he didn’t deserve to know the extent of her problems, especially with how he had treated her. On the other hand, he’d been nothing but honest with her so far. Did he deserve the same courtesy?

Eventually, she shook her head. These were extenuating circumstances.

“Why are you here?”  He’d almost been afraid to ask, given how she reacted the previous day, but she seemed a bit more open to talking about it now.

Roxie gestured to her bed, where the letter from the Board of Trustees member laid. “Money problems,” she said simply, though with a hint of bitterness, “just like everyone else.”

Riff took her lead, walked over to the bed, and picked up the letter. As he read it, Roxie looked away once again, almost nervous to watch his reaction. She took another drag of her cigarette and flicked more ashes out the window.

Riff placed the letter back on the bed a moment later, and then rejoined Roxie by the window. He took a drag himself, and exhaled. He looked deep in thought, but said nothing.

“You don’t have anything to say?” she pried. She thought he would have had something to say in response, even if it was sarcastic.

“I got money problems,” Riff stated plainly.

Roxie shot him a confused look. “...Yes?”

“You got money problems.”

“Yes.”

Riff finally looked at her with a serious expression. Riff had always had the capacity to be serious, she’d seen it before. But more often than not, his typical demeanor was cool and collected. Seeing him act so serious was a bit of a shock, and it intrigued her.

“I know a way we can both make money,” he stated.

Roxie looked at him with wide eyes. “Really?” she asked. “How?”

He said nothing, but looked at her pointedly. She stared at him blankly for a few moments, trying to rack her brain for whatever he was trying to get her to realize.

Then it hit her.

“I can’t believe you,” she hissed, reaching through the window to quickly extinguish her cigarette on the brick outside.

Riff followed suit, watching as Roxie turned away from him and the window and began pacing.

“Is this some kind of joke to you?” she demanded, still not facing him.

“No.”

Roxie finally turned to face him, and she felt her face growing red as she grew angrier. “You want to get into that again?” She could hardly believe it, but with the look on his face, she could tell that he was serious. “No, absolutely not. It's too dangerous.”

“It’s the only way we can make money fast enough.”

Roxie sighed exasperatedly, throwing up her hands in anger. “Do you remember what happened to us the last time we got caught up in that? Or have you taken one too many hits to the head?” She knew the neighbors were likely to overhear them, but she was too furious to care.

“Ya think I don’t remember?” Riff challenged, his voice raising as well.

“Do you want me to refresh your memory?” she proposed in a falsely polite tone.

“I know damn well what happened!” Riff snapped, his anger finally getting the best of him. “I did a month in County for you, Roxie. I spent thirty days and thirty nights in a cold, lonely cell while you got to go home to a warm bed!”

“I never asked you to take the fall!” Roxie yelled back, angry tears forming in her eyes.

The anger that Riff felt quickly began to fade when he noticed her tears. He had opened his mouth to respond, but upon seeing the tears start to fall down her face, he shut it immediately. There was the guilt. Again.

“We’ve had this conversation before,” he recalled, his voice much quieter than before as he watched her quickly wipe the tears off her face.

When Roxie finally looked up at him, her eyes were still a bit watery. “Yeah…” She cleared her throat, and looked away once again. “I didn’t like the ending.” Roxie knew she may have been better off now, but that didn’t change how she felt about that night.

Riff sighed. He didn’t like how it had ended, either. But he knew admitting that now would serve no purpose. She was different now. He was different now. If one thing had remained the same, it was that she still deserved better than him and anything he’d be able to offer her. If there was a chance she could get out of this neighborhood again, he had to see it through. If it fixed his own problems in the process, even better.

“If I had known you were gonna get this upset, I wouldn’t have brought it up,” he admitted. “But this is the only way. I know you’re worried, but it’s not why we got caught last time. We could take extra steps, and be more careful. I still have the connections, I’d just need a few days to get a lead.”

Roxie sighed quietly, hesitating.

“Roxie, please.”

She finally looked back up at him, concern and uncertainty plain on her face.

“I know this is a lot,” Riff admitted, “but I need ya to trust me. This could solve both our problems. When it’s all said and done, ya can tell me to leave ya alone, and I swear on my Ma’s grave, you’ll never see me again.

There were so many thoughts going through Roxie’s head, but a moment of clarity allowed her to question if that’s what she would even want. Either way, she didn’t doubt his sincerity at that moment.

“Fine,” she relented, despite a deep nagging feeling reminding her about all the terrible ways this could end.

Riff nodded, satisfied with her response. “Alright,” he said, already thinking about the next steps in his mind. He glanced at the window, and then back at her. “I have to go take care of some things now,” he told her then.

Roxie said nothing, still lost in her thoughts.

“I’ll see ya tonight?” Riff asked then.

“Tonight?” Roxie repeated, confused.

“To walk ya home, after work,” he clarified, as if it was obvious.

She shook her head. “That’s really not necessary-”

“I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

This caused her to pause. Roxie didn’t know if he remembered that he used to say those very same words to her, under situations almost exactly like this one. But she remembered.

“Okay,” she agreed. “Tonight.”

Riff looked at her one last time, and gave her a small smile. “This is gonna work out,” he assured her as he walked over to the window and opened it. “You’ll see. Soon you’ll be back at that university, hatin’ my guts once again.”

He played it off like a joke, but she didn’t know if that would ever be the case. She wanted to hate him, especially after how he chosen to end things with her, and she was angry with him now for a new reason altogether.

Still, she couldn’t deny that seeing and talking to him had made a small part of her happier than she ever would have expected. Hopefully, it was just satisfaction about her finally getting some closure. The cynic in her feared it was something else.

Roxie walked over to the window quietly. She watched as Riff climbed through it, onto the fire escape, and descended the stairs and railings with ease. It was a familiar scene. As she continued to watch him head down the alleyway and towards the street, she thought about the last time she had watched him walk away like this. He’d left through her window that night, too.

Maybe this time he would come back.

A/N: If you enjoyed and feel so inclined, please consider leaving a like. :) I’m going out of town at the end of this week, so if I’m unable to get a few chapters thrown together before hand, it may take me more than the typical 2-3 days for the next few parts. I’ll work on them getting them out as soon as a I can though, and as always, will link the next part when it’s available.

Part 7

Masterlist

[wonlouvre]

Yayyy i absolutely love your writing!!

I would like to request a Hoshi × gn!idol! Reader angst+fluff imagine where Soonyoung cheers/takes care of his reserved s/o who has been having a hard time and has opened up to him about it for the first time. S/o is someone who can't say no easily and because of that their workload had increased a lot. But in the end they can't hold themselves any longer and breaks down.

strength | k. sy.

pairing: hoshi x gn!idol reader genre: fluff, angst, then fluff again warnings: mentions of anxiety, physical and mental tiredness (please tell me if i missed anything!) word count: 1.8k+ (i honestly don’t even know anymore)

💌: thank you very much for requesting! i made some tweaks here and there and i hope you still like it! thank you for loving my writing as well :’( it really means a lot that <3 i hope you like this!

Soonyoung was aware that you’d be coming from Japan for your collaborative magazine photoshoot. He just didn’t know that you’d be going straight from the airport at four o’clock in the morning. 

He thought he read your message wrong saying that you’re on your way to the assigned shooting location. As far as he’s concerned, the call time was at seven a.m. He had to do a double take while squinting his eyes over the brightness of his phone but when he saw another bubble pop out saying you’re already there, he immediately jumped off his bed to shower. 

He misses you. You’ve been going in and out of the country because of promotions and the chances of getting to see you has been slim to none. If he ever meets with you, it will be short because either one of you has to go back to work or has to go back to bed because there is a flight to catch the next day. It’s obviously tough. But your relationship perseveres. 

Soonyoung will do everything to make it work and you are together with him on that. So if it means he has to shower half-asleep and wear his boxers backwards just to see you, he’d never mind.

Your Japanese album tour started and ended successfully but work didn’t stop from there. You were just getting started. Before leaving the said country, you were fully booked for live television performances, interviews, variety shows and the like. It was exhausting but, it was an opportunity that you couldn’t miss out on for the world even if you wanted to. 

Soonyoung is proud of you and he will always be. Heart eyes were formed whenever he got the chance to watch your performances whether it be from a paid livestream event or from kind fans sharing and uploading their videos or photos on Twitter or Instagram. He’s even more in love when it’s in person and he gets to watch your performance plus enjoy it with your never failing supportive fans. 

However, Soonyoung is also worried because he knows you’re also tired. He knows how fulfilling it is to do what you love the most, but he’s no stranger to the physically and mentally tiring part of it. He wasn’t even surprised to catch you asleep on the couch when he arrived at your dressing room. 

Your manager’s eyes brightened when they saw him, quickly standing up from the chair to give him a hug. 

“They told me they just need a fifteen minute nap,” they whisper against Soonyoung’s shoulder as he hugs them back. “But we both know they need more than that.”

Soonyoung sadly smiles while his eyes never leave your curled form. He mutters a simple “I’ll take it from here” while your manager excuses themself to buy everyone breakfast. 

It’s a challenge to take you into his arms without disturbing your sleep because he doesn’t want that from happening. He just wants to hold you for the remaining time without interruption from other people. He just wants to hold you and share this moment of calm before the lights and camera get into action later. 

Soonyoung’s thankful you didn't, although he still felt your lips lightly ghost against his jaw, telling him that you know that he’s here. He brings your legs over his lap while he cradles your head close to his neck. He wishes to lay down, but the couch is too cramped for two bodies so he’d have to settle with this position. He guesses it’s fine with how you deeply inhale his scent and snuggle closer and closer, locking your arms around his waist with no intentions of letting go. 

Just like you, he falls asleep, completely comfortable and content in finally having you in his arms again. 

Your tangled bodies were shaken to wake up at least an hour later. Both of your managers have food in their hand, ready to energize the two of you up before moving forward with the hair and makeup. The agenda for today includes a photoshoot with several changes of outfit, a short shoot for an audio video presentation and lastly an interview or question and answer of some sort. 

Your relationship has been publicly known for two years already. Some fans have been supportive while some have been angry. It’s nothing new and it’s nothing the two of you could care about at this point. 

Countless projects have been offered to the two of you during the course of those two years whether it be a song or dance performance, a guesting on a famous variety show and even a three second cameo appearance on a drama. They’re all lovely offers and you would love to participate, but the two of you made a decision to keep the relationship private. Sure, you’ll accept it from time to time. But, it’s still very limited to one to two songs to sing or dance to together and some magazine photoshoots. Just like now. 

By far, this is the third time the two of you would be featured on a magazine cover. Your respective publicists already know how to communicate to the publishing company your terms and conditions. Questions about your relationship are allowed, but to a certain number only. The rest will be about what’s mostly seen by fans and the rest of the public which is automatically your music. 

The concept is not necessarily daringly romantic. After all, what you’re trying to promote here is the clothes. But your chemistry is maintained with a few fleeting touches here and there. In one shot, you two were holding hands and the other has his arm is loosely wrapped around your neck. 

You and Soonyoung are careful to not get lost in each other’s eyes during the short breaks in between because the cameras were still rolling. Although, his soft touches on your hand and arm still lingered. On the other hand, you help him fix his hair whenever he gets excited and jumps from time to time. You could kiss him right now, but again, you want to be careful. 

The shoot concluded faster than you thought and the next thing you know, the two of you are sitting side by side with a camera blinking red in front, ready to record the interview included in the contract. 

The interview consisted of questions that’s nothing out of the ordinary. The magazine asked about your favorite go-to styles lately, your look inspirations, a little bit of this or that, your recent music releases or favorite music releases at the moment and of course something about your relationship that you're comfortable and willing enough to share. 

But one particular question caught you off guard that you had to hold your tears and brave through the rest of the interview without showing any signs that you’re about to cry.

“How have you guys been lately, individually?”

“I’ve been great,” you quickly answer with a smile that didn’t even reach your eyes. The camera may not have noticed, but Soonyoung did. It took a lot of patience and restraint for your boyfriend to stop himself from cutting the interviewer off to ask you again how you really have been. 

Everything that was in store for the two of you today ends and when the cameras are gone, you and Soonyoung hand in hand walk back to your dressing room. It’s a relief that this is the last project for the day and you’re glad you could get some rest for the coming week.

Your body slumps on the couch while the staff pack up. You puff out a breath before closing your eyes. You wish you could yell out how tired you are lately. Work piled up over the course of six months and you couldn’t have at least two days away from the makeup and flashing lights. 

Soonyoung bites his lower lip as he settles beside you. He’s contemplating whether he should ask you now or later because he doesn’t want you to grow conscious and shut yourself away. He knows how brave and strong you are. But he also wants you to know that you can trust him and that if you ever need a shoulder to cry or at least lean on, his are more than welcoming. 

“You okay, babe?” He asks in the quiet as the staff leaves one by one. “Anything bothering you?”

You surprise him by sitting up straight and opening your eyes, welling with tears. That makes him shoot up and instantly hug you close. “Oh baby.”

You finally cry and set free the tears that you’ve been locking deep within you. You thought you could brave through this pain and anxiety without having the need to shed any vulnerability. You thought this shall pass soon. You thought you could do this. 

But here you are now letting go with sniffles and shaking shoulders as Soonyoung gently caresses the top of your head. 

He hates to see you cry. But it’s only right to let you. 

“I just feel like I’m going to miss out on everything if I turn down any project offered to me.”

Soonyoung pouts when he hears what’s been bothering you. It took a while for you to calm down and finally talk, but it’s okay. He doesn’t mind. He will never mind. 

“I understand, honey,” he assures you and wipes your tear stained cheek. “And there’s nothing wrong with feeling that way.”

Your lips shake again and crying makes you want to hide. Without hesitation, you crawl to your boyfriend’s lap and wrap your arms around his shoulder. Soonyoung doesn’t complain and just keeps you close, protective arms around your waist.

The dressing room is empty except for the two of you. The staff got the message once Soonyoung pleaded with them through his eyes to give you some time with him since you’re already done for the day.

“It’s also okay to work and work,” he continues, soothing hands rubbing against your back. “But at some point, it’s also okay to take a break for them.”

You pull away and rest your hands on his neck. “Even though I’m going to miss out?”

Soonyoung nods and leans his forehead against yours. “Yes and there’s also nothing wrong with that.”

“I seriously want to go on a trip with my family,” you say and sigh. “And of course, with you too.”

Soonyoung can’t help but giggle. “I’d love to. How about next month? Let’s go somewhere with your family or friends. Where do you want to go? What do you want to do?”

Your boyfriend’s enthusiasm puts a smile on your face and this time, the smile reaches your eyes. “Let’s go somewhere quiet first. I want to take a long nap before we proceed to do anything that needs an awake body.”

“You got it, babe,” Soonyoung promises and kisses your lips.

[the-iceni-bitch]

I’m Going to Take Care of You

Pairing: Thor/Fem-Reader

Words: 3502

Summary: A fun night out with the Avengers makes you realize you want something more from you friendship with Thor.

Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content, size kink adjacent, fluff, SMUT, 18+

A/N: Whoo, I managed to keep it under 4000 words this time y’all. I loved writing Thor though. He’s such a sweetheart and really treats our reader right! Please enjoy and message if you want to be added to my permanent tags list!

“I got shots, bitches!!”

You set your carefully balanced tray on the table in the middle of everyone and started distributing tiny glasses around, grinning around the table as you did so.

“Goddamn it, Y/N. You and Nat are trying to kill us” Clint groaned as he took his shot from you and looked at it like he was about to throw up.

“Suck it up Barton.” Tony scolded. “These girls are out drinking us and refuse to black out before they do. Knock it back.”

You made sure everyone got a glass before taking one for yourself and settling back on the couch.

Nat downed hers easily and gave you a knowing grin once the taste hit her tongue. Clint, Tony, and Sam tossed theirs back together and immediately started spluttering and coughing. Steve paused before bringing his glass to his lips when he saw their reaction.

“Son of a bitch, what the fuck is this?” Tony exclaimed, grabbing a glass of water and chugging it as Clint headed to the bathroom, looking like he was going to hurl. Nat clapped her hand against Sam’s back as he tried to get a hold of himself. Steve was just looking at his shot with abject horror.

“We’re in Oslo so I got us Aquavit!” You grinned at Tony as he stared at you murderously. “Oh, my god Rogers, suck it up and drink it, it’s not going to kill you.”

Steve gave a shrug and chugged it, sucking air through his teeth and wincing as he swallowed. “Jesus Christ.”

“I’ve told you a million times, Y/N, you’re the only one who can drink that shit.” Nat laughed at you as Sam waved her off, his coughing fit finally ending.

“You’re all just pussies. Where the fuck is Thor? He always appreciates new liquor.” You searched the club for that giant golden retriever of a man before you heard his deep voice behind you.

“Is that more liquor? Excellent!” he exclaimed as you turned yourself around to give him a grin and handed him the last shot. He threw it back without hesitation and gave an appreciative nod. “What is this delicious nectar? We should get a bottle.”

“Thank you, sweetie.” You said, giving the rest of the group an exasperated look as you headed over to the bar, and returned with a full bottle of the spicy liquor and two clean highball glasses. You poured yourself and Thor two hefty portions and sat beside him on the couch.

“You two are insane.” Tony said, shaking his head as you tossed your drinks back and poured two more. “How are you still standing, Y/N? You’ve had almost as much to drink as a literal god!”

You just laughed at him giddily. You were pretty drunk at this point, but there was no way you were going to let anyone outdrink you tonight, you wanted to let go.

You had just finished your fifth mission with the Avengers. You had been apprehensive when you first moved onto the compound six months ago. You of course already know Nat and Clint, but it was a tight knit group, and you sometimes felt like a spare tire.

You spent most of the first few weeks in the lab, working on your serums and formulas, doing calculations into the small hours of the morning. Tony did his best to engage you, but you both only had the most basic understandings of each other’s fields. You did develop a healthy respect for each other during that time though, and you started to feel more at home.

Nat had finally convinced you to join the rest of the team for a workout after you had been there for a month. You were concerned about losing yourself and accidentally injuring someone, but Nat almost shoved you onto the mat to square up against Steve. She sat there with a smirk as the group watched him chase you around the mat, growing more and more frustrated as you slid out of his reach over and over. When you accidentally threw him into the ceiling one handed, you were sure they were going to shut you out. But Thor started laughing hysterically as the rest of them started teasing Rogers, and just like that, you were one of the group.

Thor and you bonded the most for some reason. You made each other laugh constantly, and being able to complain about your crazy families with someone else was a relief. You’d often stay up late together watching stupid movies or drinking some new liquor or beer you had discovered. He had once mentioned that he missed the tasted of mead, and the next day you surprised him with several large bottles you had gotten from a friend who brewed it on his property upstate. Sometimes when you got drunk enough, he’d let you braid his hair in intricate styles, not feeling an ounce of embarrassment when Tony would give him shit the next morning.

You became sparring partners as he was the only member of the team who could actually get you in a hold, and that translated well to you partnering on missions.

This latest one had been a doozy, busting an arms dealing ring that was suspected of distributing old HYDRA equipment. It was a success overall but had been exhausting. Nat and you always did your best to come up with some sort of morale booster after a mission and you somehow had convinced the team that a night of clubbing in downtown Oslo would be just the thing.

“Aww shit, is this Ghostface Killah?” You asked the room as a new song started. “This is my song! Let’s dance!”

“Girl, you have the best taste in music.” Sam said as he followed you onto the dance floor while Nat tried to coax Steve and Tony to join you. Thor tossed back his drink and strode after you.

The Norse God was a surprisingly good dancer. He didn’t seem to have the hangups you noticed from most white guys about their movements.

“This is a good song!” He shouted at you over the music “It reminds me of ‘Krakemal’.”

You had no idea what he was talking about so you just grinned at him as you whipped your hair around and swung your hips, losing yourself in the music. You loved dancing.

The song ended too soon and Tony came to let everyone know that Clint had finally stopped vomiting and the group was going to head back to the safehouse. Thor threw you over his shoulder as you headed out the door, making you squeal as he gave your ass a playful slap, not putting you down until you were walking down the street. He grinned down at you and started telling you a story about a snake. You were staring at him, breathless and giddy from the alcohol and you laughed when his story reached its conclusion, suddenly realizing that you were going to sleep with him.

He walked forward to chat with Steve and Nat put her arm through yours to chat.

“Sooooo…” she said slyly. “What’s going on with you and Point Break?”

“Oh god, Nat. I’m pretty sure I’m going to let him fuck me tonight.”

She laughed at that, tossing her head back. “Jesus Christ, it’s about time!”

You slapped her arm lightly and told her to shut up.

“You couldn’t have come to this realization a little earlier, Y/N? Now Tony’s going to win the bet!”

“Fuck, you perverts bet on when me and Thor would sleep together? Was anyone else in on this?”

“I mean, it was just me and Clint to start off then Tony found out and looped in the rest of team into it. He made a spreadsheet and everything. Rogers took some serious convincing. That big puppy thought it was ‘inappropriate and mean-spirited.’ Of course, then he walked in on one of your sparring sessions where you let yourself get pinned by that himbo a little longer than necessary and turned over his money with no problem.”

“Great. You guys are such good friends.” You said sarcastically.

“Not our fault you two idiots don’t have the emotional intelligence to just get to it. I’ve gotta tell the rest of the team to make sure you guys have some privacy.”

You hissed and tried to grab her as she scampered away to talk to Tony, who turned back and gave you a thumbs up and massive grin. You slapped your palm into your face and rubbed your thumb and forefinger into the ridges above your eyebrows.

“So, Natasha told me I should come back here and talk to you. She wouldn’t tell me what about and just laughed when I asked.” Thor had a look of slight confusion on his face as he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, pulling the bottom edge of his shirt up enough to expose the top of his boxer briefs and give you a glimpse at his happy trail. You felt yourself clench and fought the urge to moan.

You arrived back at the safehouse then, and Tony and Natasha did their best to usher everyone upstairs discreetly. She gave you a wink as she followed behind Steve at the back of the group and disappeared from view.

“So, more drinks?” Thor clapped his hands and rubbed them together, heading into the kitchen as he shed his coat.

“God, yes!” You followed him, removing your own coat and tossing it onto the couch. You had no idea how to approach this without making things painfully awkward.

He found an opened bottle of mead and poured you each a glass, leaning back against the counter as he sipped at the sweet liquor.

You peered at him over the edge of your glass as you contemplated your next move. His plain white tee was just tight enough that you could see the shape of the muscles in his torso. His arms were crossed, making his thick arms flex deliciously. You wanted to take a bite out of his bicep. You moved your eyes back up to his face and found him staring back at you. Neither of you said anything as you gazed into each other’s eyes.

“Fuck it.” You said, tossing back the rest of your drink and setting the empty glass on the counter before you took three steps forward and pressed the front of you body into him, pulling his face down to yours and kissing him hungrily.

You felt his posture change as he set his own glass behind him before grabbing your hips and drawing you even closer to him. You felt his cock starting to harden through his jeans and you let out a moan. He growled softly into your mouth before bringing one hand up to the back of your neck and drawing you away from him briefly as he studied your face.

“How drunk are you, Y/N?” he asked, a look of concern on his face.

Your inebriation had faded on the walk home and that kiss had sobered you up considerably. “Just buzzed.” You told him, breathlessly.

“Good.”

He didn’t say anything else, just put a hand on your ass and lifted you to wrap your legs around him as kissed your neck, scraping his teeth along your collarbone.

“God, keep doing that.” You said, twisting your hands into the back of his tee as he dipped his tongue into the hollow of your throat.

He gave a low hum against your neck and you felt it resound in your core, a rush of arousal soaking your panties as you felt your cunt throb with desire.

“Not gonna make it to the couch.” He whispered into your neck, sucking softly and raising a small bruise.

“Fine.” You couldn’t focus on anything, his mouth was so good and felt like it was leaving a trail of fire wherever it met your skin.

He moved forward and lowered you onto the counter gently. He brought his mouth back up to yours and kissed you softly as he moved his hands from your hips to the buttons of your blouse. He started undoing them slowly, his thick fingers moving nimbly down the front of your torso. Once it was fully open, he slid the blouse down your shoulders and discarded it to the side.

He brought his large palms up to your breasts and kneaded them gently. You groaned into his mouth and drew him closer to you with your legs, forcing the hem of your skirt up around your waist. You ground yourself into the front of his jeans desperately.

His fingers found the clasp at the front of your bra and unhooked it as he brought his mouth down to your breasts. He pressed the flat of his tongue against one nipple before swirling his tongue around it and sucking on it softly, making you gasp.

“Fuck, just like that baby.” You scrabbled your fingers over his back as he mouthed at your breast and drew his shirt over his head. He broke his contact with your skin for just a moment to throw the tee somewhere else, then moved his attention to your other breast, laving his tongue over the nipple slowly and making your pussy clench so hard it was aching.

“Shit, Thor, I need you.” You whined at him, clenching your thighs around his hips, trying to get some sort of friction to relieve the tension you were feeling in your core.

“I need to make sure you’re ready for me, beautiful. Don’t you trust me?”

“Mmmmm, yes!” you gasped as one of his hands moved your panties aside and he brushed his fingers against your folds, making you twitch.

“Oh, good girl. I just want to make you feel good, sweetheart.” He swirled one finger through the arousal at your entrance before inserting it at a deliciously slow pace.

You clenched around him immediately, letting out a whimper as he started moving it in and out of you slowly, stretching you from the inside a little further each time before adding another finger.

Your breath hitched and you tried to buck your hips into him but his other hand moved to press against your abdomen, pinning you to the counter.

His face came back up to yours as his fingers flexed inside of you. He brushed a soft kiss against your lips as you swallowed a moan.

“I know pretty girl, but you’re going to be happy I’m taking my time in a few minutes.” His third finger slipped into you as he gave you another kiss before he moved his face between your legs.

You did your best to keep from screaming when his tongue found your clit and started drawing soft circles over the tiny bundle of nerves. He curved his fingers inside you and pressed them against your sweet spot before he stretched you even further by adding a fourth finger.

You bit your lip so hard you drew blood. His tongue had increased in pressure and speed while his fingers stretched you so good. When he started sucking you lost it. You let out a thin wail as your body went rigid with pleasure, releasing to make every muscle tremble. He kept his fingers fucking into you at a steady rhythm as you rode it out. He removed them once you had finished and you let out a groan at the feeling of emptiness.

He smiled up at you before giving your pussy a kiss and standing up, releasing his hold on your abdomen. “I think you’re ready now gorgeous.” He murmured around a grin.

You propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him as he drew your soaked panties down your legs and threw them to the side with the rest of your clothes. He then unzipped your skirt and added it to the pile before he moved his fingers to the fly of his jeans.

You felt your pussy clench as he drew the zipper down slowly and you stared at him through your lashes darkly. He bent over briefly to remove his pants and underwear and when he stood up, all the air rushed out of you as you understood his insistence on preparation.

He had the biggest cock you had ever seen. It was almost as thick as your wrist and quite a bit longer than the span of your hand. Your mouth filled with saliva as he gave it a few pumps and stepped closer to you, dragging it through your slick folds to coat it in your arousal.

“I’m going to go slow, love. You promise to let me know if it’s too much?”

You bit your lip as you nodded at him, not trusting the integrity of your vocal cords at the moment.

He bent forward over you and gave you a gentle kiss as he breached you with just his tip and you let out a sigh. He drew his hips back slowly before moving into you a little further. He continued this slow pace, pulling out just a bit and before breaching you further, waiting to feel you stretch and relax around him before he pushed into you more.

It seemed like forever before his hips were flush against yours and you were stretched around the whole length of him. You had never felt so deliciously full and you let out a low moan to let him know how good you felt.

“You’re doing so good baby.” He whispered to you and you couldn’t help giving him a wide grin that he returned. “I’m going to move, now, ok?”

“Fuck, yes please.” You whimpered as his hips started to move.

He kept his mouth on yours as he picked up the pace, exploring every inch of your mouth with his tongue.  You tangled your hands into his hair and snapped your hips to meet his thrusts, the only sounds your soft moans, the slap of flesh on flesh, and the obscene wet sucking sounds your pussy was making as his cock thrust in and out of you.

You felt your pleasure starting to coil in your core and you cried softly into his mouth, urging him on as he moved one hand between the two of you to work your clit.

You came around him suddenly, every muscle in your body vibrating as the biggest orgasm you’d ever had ripped through you body. You had to bite down on his shoulder to keep from screaming, and he growled into your ear as his paced picked up even more.

He drew your knees up to your shoulders as he kept thrusting into you. The change in position was too much for your overworked clit and you came again immediately, tears leaking down your cheeks as you tried your best to be quiet.

He saw the tears and started to slow down, a look of concern written all over his face, until you hissed at him.

“Don’t you dare fucking stop.”

He gave you a grunt that may have been a laugh and rotated your legs to your right side, the twist in your spine arching you so your chest pressed up into his, the coarse hair dusting him rubbing against your sensitive nipples and making you whine.

You felt yourself building again and you dropped your head back against the counter, preparing yourself. Thor’s hips started to stutter as your final orgasm wracked you, and he released right behind you as you twitched and fluttered around him. He bent back down to kiss you, his long hair brushing against your chest.

You opened up to him and let his tongue run against yours gently as he slowly pulled out of you, leaving you with a soft ache between your legs.

“How you feeling sweetheart?” He asked you, one hand cupped against your cheek as he watched your face, wanting to be sure he hadn’t hurt you.

“God, that was amazing.” You grinned at him, groaning as you stretched underneath him, knowing you were going to be stiff and sore tomorrow.

He gave you a swift kiss before scooping you off the counter and wrapping you around his torso. You nuzzled yourself into his neck as he started to carry you upstairs.

“Let’s get you a bath, beautiful. Make sure you’ll be able to walk in the morning.”

You laughed softly against his skin. “Mmmm, baby you know just what I need.”

“Of course I do, Y/N.” He looked into your eyes, a serious expression on his face. “I’m going to take care of you.”

You couldn’t express how happy that made you so you just hummed against his shoulder as he kicked open the door to the bathroom. You didn’t even care that you had left your discarded clothes downstairs for poor Steve to find when he woke up for his morning run.

Permanent Tags:

@drabblewithfrannybarnes​

[azucanela]

FIRST DATE HEADCANNONS + SCENARIOS

[FT. BAKUGOU KATSUKI, TODOROKI SHOUTO SHINSOU HITOSHI]

SUMMARY: Your first date with a few some of the first year boys[Bakugo Katuski, Shinsou Hitoshi, Todoroki Shouto].

WORD COUNT: 2.9k

WARNINGS: kissing, pretty pg, wholesome, perhaps slightly ooc oops, bad writing, just a tad of spice

A/N: someone send tik tok related requests they make me laugh

BAKUGO KATSUKI

when he asks you out on a date for the first time hes not actually asking

comes up to you and tells you, “get dressed im taking you out.”

you are just there talking to mina and kirishima in your pjs like ???

“with your quirk?” like you dead thought he was telling you he intended to kill you 

“no idiot...” now he’s embarrassed oh no

mina and kirishima are like 👀👀

“on a date?” they’re really trying to help him get his point across bc playing matchmaker is fun

“SHUT UP EXTRAS”

probably takes you to like some sort of outdoor thing on the first date

has to to involve movement

stroll through the park, or through like a mall if you don’t like more athletic experiences 

take him on a date to a trampoline park. do it. 

COOKS FOR YOU ON THE FIRST DATE!!!!!!!!

ITS AMAZING 

YOU HAVE BEEN BLESSED

is quieter during a date rather than his normal explosive self, he wants to listen to you, get to know you better

won’t kiss on the first date unless there’s a pre established friendship

your next date happens the same way, just tells you that you guys are going out, but you get it this time

lets you choose where you guys go that time

wants equal contribution to dates 

katsuki in street clothes is just beautiful, just ART, a masterpiece, he looks like a grumpy piece of ART

Katuski had just asked Y/N on a date, completely out of nowhere. Katsuki had asked Y/N on a date. It was difficult to believe, and considering his loud tone, the rest of Class 1-A also found it shocking, the student who claimed to have all his focus on becoming the number one pro-hero was now seeking a relationship. Ironic.

Though Y/N herself initially didn’t understand what he had been trying to say, she quickly got the message, and off they went. She was necessarily shocked by his feelings for her, they had discussed it in the dead of night, when she couldn’t sleep so he decided to forgo his normal grandpa sleep schedule. He fell asleep shortly after that conversation though, in her arms, he’d likely deny it if she ever mentioned it though.

Now, she sat on the counter in his parent’s kitchen, though neither of them were home, and the kitchen looked mostly unused. Y/N had tried to assist him but he’d brushed her off, “I asked you out. And you’re a horrible cook.” 

Y/N hopped off the counter and came up behind him, “whatever.” She mumbled, half expecting Katsuki to shove her away as she wrapped her arms around his torso as he sliced vegetables. He didn’t, though he did freeze momentarily before grumbling something about how dumb she was, Y/N knew he didn’t mean it based off the blush on his cheeks. 

Katsuki placed the vegetables into a pot of boiling water, covering it with a lid before tapping Y/N’s hand, signaling for her to let go. When she did, he turned around, and Y/N’s brow was raised. “C’mere.” He pulled her closer with one hand, and placed another on the back of her necks, bringing their lips together. 

She hummed in response, hand tangling into his hair, this wasn’t the first time they’d kissed. But it was the first time they’d gone on a date, he’d been sure to hide the dining room from her on the way inside, and she couldn’t help the excitement that bubbled up inside her. 

Y/N’s free hand found it’s way to his bicep, nails digging into his soft skin, courtesy of his quirk. Meanwhile, Katsuki’s hand found its way to the curve of her back, pushing her body closer to his only for Y/N to pull away, “pay attention while you are cooking.”

Turning to look at the pot, he’d realized that it was boiling far too much for comfort and cursed, releasing Y/N to salvage his food, she began to laugh. Katuski glared at her as he turned off the stove and put the put the vegetables into a nearby plate. 

With a smile on her face, she pressed a kiss onto his cheek, only for him to roll his eyes as he picked up the plate and moved out of the kitchen, Y/N trailing close behind as he headed to the dining room. “Can I see now?” She asked.

After a moment of contemplation, he nodded, and together they entered the dining room. It was a basic set up for a date, but it certainly set an intimate atmosphere that was rare when you lived in a dorm with several other students, and Mineta. There were candles lighting the room, and a rose in the center of the table, along with more food that he had already placed on the table. 

Grinning at him, Y/N spoke, “god you are such a sap.”

His cheeks flushed as he responded, “shut up.” 

SHINSOU HITOSHI

lol cutie, he asks you out on a date, you two are probably close friends and he just really likes your personality and attitude and stuff

“you don’t have to- well you know that but-”

“no, i’ll go out with you.”

“it’s fine i understand- wait what?”

did not think he’d get this far so he had no plans, he was expecting to plan a funeral for your friendship

ends up being the basic movie and food date

he picks a horror movie because he wants to protect you!!!

it makes him feel useful and bb needs validation

hold his hand during the movie

give him AFFECTION

you guys end up skipping dinner because you filled up on popcorn and other snacks during the movie so y’all just walk around

gives you his j a c k e t if its cold

he’s classy like that

unlike other people, he would kiss you on the first date

it would be an AMAZING experience that probably occurs at your front door, super adorable, he asks if he can kiss you

“can i kiss you?” fully expects you to say no

“yeah you can.”

“its fine, thanks for going out with me- wait what?”

same vibes as asking you out, did NOT expect this

walks you home because he is a GENTLEMAN change my mind, Shinsou brought back chivalry 2020

treats you RIGHT!!! the entire date, opens doors for you, pulls out your chair if necessary, pays for you unless you try to split the check but he might propose if you do that and pay for you regardless

When Shinsou asked Y/N out, he genuinely expected her to say no. His plans for the date included a funeral for himself and the friendship between the two of them. But, Shinsou was an honest guy and wanted to confess his feelings to her, secrets were a rarity between them, and this was no exception. They’d known each other for a while and his feelings weren’t something he could make disappear, no matter how hard he tried.

The last thing he expected was for her to agree to go out with him. 

She was still clinging onto his arm rather harshly as they exited the movie theater, having seen a horror movie, she exclaims, “I am never letting you pick the movie again.” 

Shinsou can’t help it when his heart skips a beat at her comment, looking over to her as he smirks, “again? So there will be a next time?” He asked, hoping that he hadn’t misunderstood.

Her cheeks warm, even though he asked her out, and Y/N looks away, “yes, if you want.” She mumbled, loosening her grip on his arm as they stepped outside. Cool air hits her, and Y/N can’t help the shiver that goes down her spine at the sudden cold. 

“I asked you out, of course I want a second date.” He replied, taking his arm from her grasp to remove his jacket, which he puts around her shoulders. “You still want dinner?” 

Y/N hums, taking his hand in hers and grinning as his cheeks turn red, “I’m not really hungry after all the snacks we had.” She replied, leaning her head onto his shoulder. “Let’s just walk.” 

They walked throughout the small shopping center, speaking with each other in regards to a variety of topics before beginning the walk home, when it started to rain. Thankfully, they were nearby Y/N’s home, and the laughs that consumed them as they ran didn’t stop as they ran up under the roof of Y/N’s porch. Shinsou’s hair was now matted onto his head thanks to the rain, their clothes soaked. 

Looking up at him, Y/N let another laugh escape her, “I like your hair.” She teased, bringing a hand up to ruffle it, though it had little effect.

Shinsou playfully glared at her, “yeah, yeah.” A smile found its way onto his face as he looked at her, the rain still hammering down on the roof, he found himself not wanting to let go of her hand as he asked, “can I kiss you? You don’t need-” He began to ramble, and Y/N was reminded of when he first asked her out as she watched him. 

Y/N’s hand released his and she grabbed his face, bringing his lips to hers, effectively silencing him as his hands fell onto her hips. They broke apart momentarily, only for Y/N’s arms to circle around his neck and pull him closer for yet another kiss.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He mumbled as they pulled apart.

Tilting her head, Y/N smirked, “you’re cute.” Shinsou ducked his head to hide the pink in his cheeks at this comment. “Be here next Saturday around 2 in the afternoon. This time I pick the movie.”

Looking back up, he raised a brow. “I happened to enjoy the movie, particularly the parts when you-”

“I don’t have to agree to a second date.” Y/N threatened as she playfully slapped his shoulder before heading to her front door, looking back at him as she walked.

Shinsou hummed, eyes meeting hers as he grabbed her hand and yanked her back. “I think I liked the way you shut me up the first time around better.” He presses a gentle kiss to her lips before releasing her hand so that she can head inside. 

TODOROKI SHOUTO

THIS BOY

you probably don’t know its a date he’s like “so how was the date”

and you there like “im sorry how was the WHAT?”

asks his siblings for help because he’s clueless, also asks izuku and maybe even bakugo during their remedial course, though camie is 10x more helpful

this is because shoto always spends all of his father’s money on you

while you two are just best friends, he’ll see you look at something and then he’ll just buy it

you guys already act like a couple. like stfu we get it, you have Class 1-A’s resident pretty boy wrapped around your finger jeez no need to brag

it because he’s in love with you already but he doesn’t know that its not his fault he is oblivious to his own emotions

this just amplifies on a date

tries to take you to a ridiculously fancy restaurant and you’re like???

settles for a cafe

you get lost in the convo and forget to actually drink your drink so he just reheats it or makes it nice and cool again ya know

super useful bb

give him validation

listens to you super intently 

intellectual conversations EVERYWHERE he is literally so fun to talk to like discuss any and everything with him

First date at a cafe, he’s rich, he stole his dad’s credit card, and he happens to love trying new things since he was sheltered as a child so he will buy EVERY S I N G L E DRINK for you two to try them all together

50/50 chance he kisses you on the first date

100% chance a kiss happens if you initiate it

he walks you home, and depending on if you are feeling hot or cold, you’ll stand by his side, preferably away from the road because shoto is a gentleman who gets hit by cars for his partner 

When Izuku had suggested that Shoto take Y/N out on a date to help confess his feelings for her, he figured it would be a good idea. Except, he forgot the part where he asked her on the date.

Oops.

This didn’t really dawn on him as she led him away from the fancy restaurant he had tried to convince her to enter,  “we both know that neither of us would understand a thing on the menu because it’s probably all in french.” Though she had dressed for the occasion, and so had he. “Why do you even want to eat there?” Y/N asked, her hand still holding his as she dragged him along the side walk.

She knew very well how much he disliked such places. They reminded him of all the high end restaraunts he had been forced to go to as a child. And since his father was an infamous pro hero, and Shoto himself was one of the more popular Class 1-A students, it wasn’t uncommon for reporters to frequent areas he was seen in. Carrying their cameras as they tried to get a story about him or his father. He’d told Y/N numerous times how much he disliked the attention, which is why he avoided certain areas of the city. 

Shoto stared at their joined hands, that feeling of joy bubbling in his chest, “my understanding is that you take people to a nice restaurant for a date.” Came his response.

Y/N stopped walking, though Shoto didn’t, causing him to run into her and nearly trip her had he not grabbed waist to keep her from falling. “This is a date?” She asked, hands clinging to his arms as she tried to maintain balance. He’d been acting different, so Y/N felt as though she shouldn’t be shocked, but the fact that Shoto liked her?

He said nothing, releasing her from his arms before taking a step back, “I feel as though I should apologize-” Shoto began, realizing his mistake.

“I know a nice Café I’ve been meaning to visit that’s nearby, you want to continue this there?” She interrupted, extending her hand. Y/N wasn’t stupid, neither was Shoto, she knew he was inexperienced in the romance department and it was clear this was his attempt to woo her. 

It was cute. 

Looking up at her, he couldn’t help but give her a small smile, which she returned as he took her hand. Shoto was thankful that she hadn’t mentioned his poor preparation for the whole ‘date’ thing, since he failed to really ask her about it. Thankfully she was just going with it, “I really like you, Y/N.” It was blunt, but it was the truth, and it was Shoto, being himself. 

Y/N felt her cheeks warm as they approached the Café, “I really like you too, Shoto.” He moved in front of her to open the door, “and here we are.” She gestured to the small Café as they entered, it was a nice set up and she had been meaning to visit. The fact that it was Shoto that she was visiting with made it all the better.

“Why don’t you go find us somewhere to sit?” He suggested, small smile on his face. “I’ll save us a spot in line.” Y/N nodded, and it was clear that she had yet to notice that there was no line, and Shoto had Endeavor’s beautiful black mastercard in hand. 

Which is how they ended up with every possible drink on their table, some of which were going cold, and the cashier thanking Shoto for the $200 cash tip, laughing quietly side by side in their small corner within the Café. Y/N had chosen a more isolated part, though there were already very few people within the store. 

She looked up from her drink to find Shoto’s eyes on her, an unreadable look in his eyes, but she couldn’t help but smile at him, one that he returned. “I like this.” He said, his hand finding hers as he played with her fingers. 

“Me too.” Y/N replied, watching his movements. She found herself Y/N bringing her hand to Shoto’s cheek, and his eyes met hers momentarily, looking up at her in awe as she leaned forward and pressed a kiss against his lips.

Neither of them knew what they were doing, Shoto’s delayed reaction reminded them both of this fact as he finally kissed back after a few moments. The hand that had once been fidgeting with Y/N’s free hand, making its way to her bicep to rub circles in the spot. 

The moment didn’t last long, and when she pulled away, his lips were chasing hers, “we should do this more often.”

A small smile was on his face as he stared at her with what seemed like stars in his eyes, “yeah.” He pressed a kiss to her hand, “we should.”

A/N: when i tell you season 4 made me CRY

[sorryimananti-romantic]

Mist | Choi San | Chapter 5

Pairing: Choi San x OC (Seohyun)

Genre: supernatural (ghost), romance, high school

Trigger Warnings: paranormal, death mentions, violence

Words: 8.7k

Disclaimer: I do not own anything except my original character and the story. I do not own any gifs or pictures used.

Full story on Wattpad (don’t spoil here if you read there too)

chapter directory

--------------

Seohyun woke up to her phone buzzing. She groaned and rubbed her eyes, checking who was calling. It was San. She declined the call to read the several text messages he had sent. It was something about how they were all going out for lunch and she was joining (funny how they'd stop asking now, just said it) and that she was... to go on a date with him later.

She texted back a simple OK and checked the time. It was already almost afternoon- she had slept in. After showering, she was brushing her teeth when she paused.

It was gonna be her first date with San.

"Ayyy~" she waved at her reflection, resuming. She wasn't one to make a big deal out of stuff, but she had to admit it was... a little bit exciting. And she couldn't say the same about San. He seemed like the type to take these things serious, like first dates. So she decided that she did not want to disappoint him and would put in a little bit effort.

Seohyun checked her wardrobe. She didn't have much 'cute' stuff. Her first priority was always comfort when she picked her clothes. And they were usually monochrome or dark colours. She didn't like wearing bright stuff. Her only mildly cute outfit was the green dress she'd worn the last time with Jiwoo.

She moved on way too early, Seohyun thought. There was no one to help her dress up now. Her mom...

Seohyun realized there was something. Her mother had given her some sort of a top for her birthday last year. She had buried it in the back of her closet because she had deemed it too 'fashionable' for her. Seohyun threw her clothes out to find it. Indeed, it was still there.

It was a purple blouse with lace around the neck and tiny pearls. She shrugged. She'd pair it with pants and ankle boots.

After dressing up and tying her hair in half a ponytail, she stood in front of the mirror. She looked presentable, if one ignored her still-puffy-from-sleeping face. She sighed and put on the only lip gloss she had. That could do. She smiled at her reflection once before grabbing her phone and leaving the house.

They were meeting at a new café that Yunho and Yeosang had been wanting to try on forever. Yeosang had assured them it had good reviews for their desserts too. They were all already there by the time Seohyun reached. She had spent a good minute admiring the exterior of the café while the boys laughed at her unaware self, watching her through the window.

Mingi waved at her once she was inside and they made space for her. After exchanging greetings, they decided they would order food first. They decided on ordering two of everything and sharing, and once they gave the order, they all looked at Seohyun.

"You look... like you actually made effort today," Hongjoong commented.

"What do you mean?" Seohyun asked, forgetting for a second.

"Hey, don't say that, or she'll never dress up again," San pouted, and Seohyun realized, looking down at her dress.

"Is it too much?" she asked, "I've actually, honestly, never made effort. So I need honest reviews."

"It's not too much, it's perfect," Seonghwa assured, "In fact, you could have done more, but since this is you, it's perfect."

"That sounds.... like a compliment and insult at the same time, thank you Seonghwa."

They laughed and Yeosang said, "Hongjoong's the fashionista. You should only ask him."

"Yes, yes, Seonghwa's right. You look good!"

"That's the only top I had," Seohyun sighed, looking at San who was staring at her with an adorable expression on his face. "The rest of my wardrobe, you've seen."

"I guess we're going shopping then after this. I hope you have the card on you that you liked to flex about so much," Hongjoong smirked.

"I do-"

"But we're going on our first date today-"

"WHAT?!"

Seohyun face-palmed. San had done it.

San looked at Seohyun for help and she sighed. "Well, no need to over-react, Wooyoung. As you all know, San and I are... sort of, uh... dating?"

Yunho snickered first before everyone started laughing at how awkward Seohyun suddenly got, and it was her turn to look at San for help. It wasn't everyday she lost her demeanor. Falling in love did make one a different person, she realized.

"Yeah, so you're sort of dating?" Jongho wiggled his eyebrows.

"Yes, Jongho, we're DATING." Seohyun said, "And San was planning to take me on our first date after this."

"You haven't been on your first date yet?" Wooyoung asked, "But it's been days now that you've been together! Sannie, you disappoint me!"

Before San could choke Wooyoung, Seohyun interrupted, "It was me. I was busy dealing with ghosts. It turns out Jiwoo had actually been a saint. Did anyone of you know that she used to do half my jobs?"

Everyone fell silent as they listened, "She was never 'bored' of coming to school with me. She just had so much time to kill that she'd help ghosts instead of me. I kind of miss her more now."

"That's sweet," Mingi said, "She really was a great friend."

"I know right! Anyways, this is the reason we haven't had our first date yet."

Other than San, the boys shared looks, and Seohyun saw with dread the devilish smirks appear on their faces as they announced: "Too bad! We're crashing your first date!"

San groaned and dramatically fell back in his chair while Seohyun gaped at them. "I-I'm speechless for once." Laughter filled the room as she said, "If that's what friends are for, I think I'm gonna change my mind..."

Before anyone could protest, food came and they started discussing Hongjoong's love for fashion and the various items he had reformed. Hongjoong assured her if she had a clothing item or something she would like to reform, he was the man.

"I do have this denim jacket that I'm too attached to," Seohyun thought about it, "Can you write something cool on the back of it?"

"Yes, just give me the jacket whenever you can. It'll take no more than two days, unless we have exams."

Seohyun looked at Seonghwa for confirmation and he nodded. "He also makes custom bracelets for us."

"Nice," Seohyun said, "I'd like some too," she wiggled her brows at Hongjoong, who laughed and nodded.

"So what were you gonna do on your first date?" Wooyoung and Jongho leaned in and asked Seohyun.

"San was the one in charge, ask him," she said.

"I was thinking we'd just walk aimlessly around the city..."

They both tsk-ed at San, muttering something about how he was an 'amateur' and would probably bore me to death.

"Hey, that's a nice idea actually. I don't mind."

"You're just saying that to be nice," Jongho said and Seohyun folded her arms.

"I don't say things to be nice, Choi Jongho."

Everyone hooted at that, having heard her, and Seohyun stared at her drink intensely, contemplating if she should 'accidentally' spill it on everyone.

"But she's right, actually," Yeosang said, "She doesn't say things to be nice. If she didn't like that idea, I'm sure she would have said to San with a hidden insult in between. I'm right, aren't I?"

"Thank you, Yeosang," Seohyun said, "I love you."

Yeosang saluted and San pouted, "Hey! You haven't even said that to me yet!"

Everyone was silent for a good minute before they burst out laughing, including Seohyun. San's pout went bigger and Seohyun poked him.

"Ayyy. I say that everyday, just not in words."

"OHHHH!" Everyone hooted and San actually smiled, trying to hide a blush but failing.

"How do you say it then?" Mingi asked, wiggling his brows, and Yunho made kissing sounds in the air, earning a smack from Wooyoung who was right beside him.

"Next time I encounter a dangerous ghost, I'm actually gonna befriend them," Seohyun said, smashing her now empty glass on the table as she glared at them, "I have a few ideas of how to make you all suffer."

Yunho snickered and Mingi immediately bowed, muttering praises about how Seohyun was the most kind girl he'd ever met. It was Seohyun's turn to smirk.

After they were done eating, everyone got up and they decided to go to the mall. It seemed like Hongjoong was bent on getting her good dresses, and he whispered to her that she should wear them on her dates, which actually made Seohyun flush for a good second.

"Hi," San said, holding her hand in his. He was walking with her now, both at the end while the others were ahead.

"Hey," Seohyun smiled, squeezing his hand subconsciously as she continued walking forward.

"Did you know purple is my favourite colour? I love this on you," San said, and Seohyun smiled.

"I did not. You'll have to thank my mom for this," Seohyun said, "She got me this for my birthday last year,"

"Oh, when's your birthday?"

"21st December."

"Right. So we have about two months. Is there something you want?"

"I wish my mom would be home actually," Seohyun said, "The last birthday I had with her was my 14th. I actually had fun then. Mom's friends had come, there's one that I'm close with. We had a banger then."

"That sounds fun," San smiled.

"It was," Seohyun smiled wistfully, "Now she's always busy during that time. So she just sends me a gift and a cake. And I spend my birthday alone."

San felt quite sad to hear that. "You won't be alone this year, I promise."

Seohyun looked at him. He had said that with such clarity that she believed him.

"I have a feeling that won't be the case," she suddenly said, and San almost stopped.

"What do you mean?"

"It's my gut. It's always right. I suppose it comes with the ghost thing. I just suddenly felt that wasn't going to be the case when you said that."

San put his arm around her, "You probably felt that because you've spent most of your birthdays alone. But now you have us, and there's always a chance your mom could come too. I can assure you, you won't be alone this year."

"Maybe," Seohyun let herself hope, pushing the feeling of dread back.

They reached the mall and Seohyun watched as Hongjoong and Wooyoung took the lead, discussing what would go well with her hair and skin colour, stuff that Seohyun didn't quite understand. She was too busy rejecting the ones Yunho, Mingi and Jongho were picking for her, making sure they got bright yellows and neon shades just to annoy her. They were having quite a laugh.

Seonghwa, Yeosang and San had disappeared to another shop it seemed. Wooyoung threw a top at her, ordering her to hold on herself so they could check.

"This has too many beads," Seohyun muttered.

"There are literally only 6 beads on it, stop being a child," Wooyoung said, snatching the top back from her and she pouted as they put it in the cart.

Hongjoong held another top, checking its size.

"Isn't that too short?" Seohyun asked.

"It's a crop top, Seohyun, of course it is short."

"That's basically the size of a bra! How am I supposed to wear it?!"

Hongjoong and Wooyoung tsk-ed at her. "It's not, it comes to your waist. Wear it with high waisted pants and a jacket if you can," Hongjoong threw it in the cart.

Seohyun threw her hands in the air as she looked back, the trio laughing at her misery. They were clearly enjoying. A thought struck Seohyun. She went to the three of them and asked if she should buy something for San.

"I guess he could use a new jacket," Yunho looked at Jongho and he nodded, "He's been using the same two jackets since forever."

"Help me pick," she said and dragged them to the men's section, and they picked a black denim jacket, putting it with her clothes so San wouldn't be suspicious.

After about 15 minutes, they were all done, and San, Yeosang and Seonghwa joined them as well.

"Where were you all?" Seohyun eyes them suspiciously.

"Just looking around," Seonghwa nodded, and San scratched his neck.

After they all got ice cream as refreshment, they decided to part ways, and Seohyun thanked Hongjoong and Wooyoung sincerely, saying she'd use them well.

"I'll get you both something too. Tell me what you want."

"You don't have to, just wear them, that'd be a gift," Wooyoung laughed.

"No, I can't! You guys put so much effort. I'll get you both something, just you wait," Seohyun promised.

San and her decided to walk back home, carrying the shopping bags with them.

"This is not how I had imagined our first date would go," San admitted.

"I had fun still," Seohyun smiled, "And anyway, the day is not over yet."

"It is! It's 7pm already!"

"Well, what do you say I take you on an adventure after we drop these at home?" Seohyun wiggled her eyebrows, saying, "Unless you have to go home."

"Well, no one's home today so..." San smiled, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Alright, I'll follow you."

Seohyun smiled, skipping as she walked, making San laugh out loud.

---------------

San and Seohyun reached home, dumping the several shopping bags in the living room. They decided to eat dinner and rest a bit, and Seohyun said she'd take him somewhere, but it had to be a surprise.

After they got fresh, they had ramyeon and Seohyun fished out a jacket from her wardrobe. It was gonna be chilly. She went to the living room, searching for San's jacket and went to San.

"Try this on," she said, and San got up from the sofa, trying the black jacket on. "Where we're going, it's gonna be a bit chilly."

"Wow, it fits perfectly," Seohyun stood back to check. "It's a gift."

"Really?" San looked down at the jacket. "Did you get this today?" Seohyun nodded. San smiled, thanking her with a hug.

They locked the house, grabbing only a bag with water bottle and chocolates. They took a taxi, a 30 minute drive to a hill. Seohyun told San she knew a shortcut to get to the top, and indeed, after a short hike, they reached the top.

"The view is amazing," San said, admiring how the full moon lit the night sky, the stars in the sky bright too. The city lights down seemed like stars too.

"A few months ago, a ghost teleported me here. He had died of an accident somewhere around here, and wanted help finding his sister, who had passed away with him. Jiwoo was with me, thankfully. It took us the whole day but we found her."

"Wow, I'm glad Jiwoo was with you," San said, and they both sat on the grass, facing the moon. "Imagine if you were alone and had to go back."

"Oh, I'm not sure if they even moved on. They said they wanted to spend some time together before they moved on, since they weren't sure what life ahead had for them. They might still be enjoying the ghost life."

"Really? Isn't that... dangerous?"

"They did promise. I said I'd come back after a year, and if they hadn't moved on by then, I'd personally exorcise them."

San laughed. "That's kind of you."

Seohyun winked at him. San was looking at the stars, and she took that time to admire his side-profile. He really was a work of art.

"Byeol," San said.

"What?"

"I'm naming our cat Byeol. Now that's an acceptable name, isn't it?"

Seohyun stared at him. "I mean, I was okay with Shiber too..."

"HEY!" San tackled her, tickling her everywhere and Seohyun laughed loudly, "Do you know how much time I spent thinking of a name for the cat!"

"Stop!" Seohyun laughed, and San stopped tickling to hear her out. "I love it. Byeol. Shiber. Whatever you wanna call her."

San shook his head at her. Seohyun realized he was still on top of her. San was staring at her, rather intensely.

San touched her hair. It was a habit of his now, playing with her hair. The grey in her hair was shining thanks to the moonlight. Her eyes shone just as brightly. Her mouth was slightly parted, and San ran his thumb across her lips.

"You're beautiful," he finally said.

Seohyun wanted to tell him that she was not, but she was too flustered to say anything. His broad shoulders blocked the moonlight, making his figure shine instead. He leaned in and kissed her softly, taking his dear time, making sure every peck was slow and good.

Seohyun's internal state was a mess at this time; her heart was beating too loudly, her stomach rolling too furiously, and her mind- oh it was an absolute mess. So she just let him kiss her senseless, her hands going through his hair and back to cup his face as they kissed.

San drew apart and Seohyun held onto his neck, making them sit, and San joined her forehead with his as they caught their breath. He rested her hands on her waist, and Seohyun gulped as she took his hands and put them on her waist under her shirt this time.

San inhaled sharply at the touch, looking at her for confirmation. He was always so patient with her, which she loved about him. Seohyun cupped his face and kissed him, more forcefully now. San followed along, his hands staying at her waist only, his thumb caressing her skin there. She kissed his neck, earning a satisfying moan from him.

"You're being naughty today," San whispered.

"You're being too good today," Seohyun retorted.

"Don't challenge me, Lee Seohyun," San warned, grinning.

"What you're gonna do, Choi San?"

San shook his head once, taking his hands away from her. Seohyun was going to protest but he took off his jacket and kissed Seohyun so hard that she found herself curving back and back until she was lying on the grass. He kissed her face, her neck, her collarbone, one hand on her waist, one roaming around, and Seohyun was a mess.

"What do you say? Do you regret this now?" San asked, smirking.

"Can't say I regret it," Seohyun answered, out of breath.

San laughed, kissing her one last time before lying down with her, holding her close.

Seohyun smiled. "This reminds me of the time when we first kissed," she said, "You were so sleepy."

"I was wide awake internally," San said, making her laugh a little. Seohyun traced his face with her fingers.

"I love you, San."

San's eyes went a little wide in surprise. Seohyun continued, "I know I haven't said it before. I don't know what I waited for. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," San brought her closer as if hugging her, "You didn't have to. I see it everyday."

Seohyun smiled, "Still. I have to say it out loud. I love you. I love you so much that it hurts. If I knew love would make me feel pain like this, this weird satisfying sort of pain in the heart, this ache, I would've run away. But I still love you."

"I feel the same," San said, sighing, "I feel scared for you, I'm afraid that you'll get hurt. You do such a dangerous job. I hope I could have been more help. I love you so much that I wish I'd have to do all this instead of you."

"You don't have to," Seohyun said, "This is enough. You, like this, is more than enough."

San couldn't help it; he kissed her again, and it felt like he could cry.

After a few moments, they finally got up. San wore his jacket, and said, "Oh, I almost forgot."

He took out a box from his pocket and handed it to Seohyun. Seohyun opened it to see a locket with a silver star, a single diamante shining in the middle of it.

"It's beautiful," Seohyun smiled, "Is that what you shopped for today?"

"Yep. Come here," San took the necklace from her and helped her wear it.

"Thank you. I'm never gonna take it off," Seohyun said and San laughed.

"Are you saying I should never take this jacket off too?"

"Well," Seohyun shrugged, "If you can manage."

They were laughing when Seohyun's smile suddenly fell from her face.

"There's someone behind me San," she whispered, not taking her eyes off him. "Don't look."

San almost looked away on impulse but Seohyun took his hand, grabbing his attention. "I said don't look. Smile like you were before, quick. Laugh."

San laughed awkwardly, making sure he was smiling. "Look from the corner of your eyes, can you see something?"

San did, and whispered, "I think I see something moving to your left, but it's a bit far I think."

"It's not good," Seohyun whispered, and San understood. "We're gonna have to make a run for it. On the count of three?"

San nodded, squeezing her hand.

"One. Two. Three."

San took her hand and made a dash, realizing that they couldn't go to the trail they'd come for since it was in the opposite direction. Seohyun took the lead, dragging San with her, trying to remember the other way. She looked back once and saw a sickly old woman almost caught up now. A little scream left her and they both ran, Seohyun stopping to grab a rock and aim at the woman. It narrowly missed her but distracted her long enough that they gained speed.

"Where's the other trail?" San shouted and Seohyun went through path after path, not bothering to reply. They were probably lost now.

Seohyun was about to give up and face the woman when a pair of hands grabbed her and she felt herself teleporting a few feet away from where they were, gaining more distance. She heard San gasp and looked to make sure he was okay, but hands grabbed her and she was running again.

"You!" Seohyun exclaimed. The boy and the girl- the brother and sister that had died here. She could not believe it.

"There's a cave here, we're teleporting again, grab on tight!"

Seohyun squeezed San's hand and shut her eyes. One moment she was running and the other she had jumped through time and space and was in the said cave.

"You call this a cave?" Seohyun asked. The boy ignored her, peeking out of the 'cave' as he covered the entrance with more tree branches.

San still held her hand, out of breath, taking out the bottles from Seohyun's bag and handing one to her while he drank some too.

"She lost us," The boy looked back and smiled proudly, high fiving his sister.

The boy must have been 16- he was a tall, lean kid. His short hair were spiky and his eyes were the same as his sister's- who must have been a year older. She looked at Seohyun and said, "Didn't expect to meet you like this, Seohyun."

Seohyun wiped her mouth. "Hi, Gayoung." She looked at the boy then, "Thanks, Youngjae."

"We owed you one," he said, motioning them to sit and take a breather. "We've been living here, so we kind of knew about the woman. She's an old soul, that one. I don't think you can do anything about her, best if you avoid her."

"Well, she should avoid me! Next time I'm gonna kill her-"

"I see you haven't changed," Gayoung grinned. "Who's that with you? And why is he not freaking out?"

"He's my boyfriend," Seohyun said, and Gayoung and Youngjae ooh-ed. "He knows. There was some accident, so he can see ghosts now too. Can't touch them."

"Interesting," Youngjae scanned San. "I didn't know we could teleport others too."

"Only because I was holding him. I guess because it was the two of you, it didn't require me to properly hold him. Remember Jiwoo? She tried it once. Took me to the ghost realm accidentally, with him!"

"With him!" Gayoung gasped, "Is that why he can...?"

"Yes!" Seohyun answered, "I almost died making that trip."

San elbowed Seohyun. "You call that dying?"

"Shut up. So you live here still?"

"Yes, we'll actually move on before the year completes," Youngjae said, "We're just waiting for our parent's wedding anniversary. We used to celebrate it, so we just wanna see them happy before we move on."

"Ah, that's good."

"Where's Jiwoo anyway?" Gayoung asked.

"She moved on," Seohyun sighed.

"So she finally remembered? Good for her!" Youngjae said and they nodded.

After catching up a few minutes, they decided it was safe to go back. Seohyun thanked them earnestly, saying she owed them one more now because this was too big a favour. They just dismissed it, telling her to stay safe. They guided them to another shortcut and soon the two of them were on the way home.

They stopped by at Seohyun's first, and San went inside with her for a moment, hugging her, telling her she was so brave for keeping her calm in that situation, telling her he was proud. With a kiss to her forehead, he left for home.

Seohyun washed up and fell on her bed, beyond exhausted. She recalled the day in her mind; it was a day well spent, if you ignored the last part. She smiled as she played the moments in her head; San was such a sweetheart today. She was playing with her necklace as she fell asleep.

----------------

The few days that followed their rather adventurous first date were as normal as they could get, keeping in mind the fact that it was Seohyun's life in question. She had a tremendous amount of school work to catch up to, and several ghosts to help move on.

Having friends actually helped, Seohyun realized one day as she was doing her homework. She was an average student; she'd do great if she tried, and if she didn't... well. So they'd help her with the subjects they were good at, they'd be her personal motivators, and she'd try to return the favours as well as she could.

She'd been thinking about how she could return the long due favour to Hongjoong and Wooyoung. They'd help her update her wardrobe, and the feedbacks she'd gotten were amazing. She supposed San was a softie and would compliment her even if she was in her worst hoodie, but when critics like Yeosang complimented her, she'd feel glad. She didn't really care about how she looked, but it felt good to dress up once in a while. Special occasions only.

Seohyun sighed as she shut her notebook close and got up, stretching. She found herself going to the music room. There were no drums anymore to relieve her of her stress, but she supposed she could do with something else. The violin reminded her of San as she picked it up, and she kind of missed him, so she put that down. She went to the piano, and inhaled. She'd be playing it for the first time now, after Joon Hyuk.

She tested the keys; it sounded out of tune. But she let her fingers naturally roll over them, found herself playing a familiar tune, the one Joon Hyuk had taught her. She smiled as she played. It had truly been a while.

After she was done, she nodded as she figured out what she'd get Hongjoong and Wooyoung. Something they really needed.

-----------

"You're the best!" Wooyoung tackled Seohyun in a tight hug, making Seohyun yell as she tried to push him away.

"How did you come up with this idea?" Hongjoong asked as he admired the speakers in front of him.

"I noticed you could use speakers here without disturbing anyone. And with how loud you all are, you definitely needed it."

Seonghwa connected the speakers to his phone, blasting full volume as he checked them, his mouth turning into an O as he nodded in admiration. "They must have cost you quite a bit?"

"Oh, it's okay. Let's forget about that part," Seohyun waved him off, and Yunho ruffled her hair.

Mingi passed her a juice box and she sipped on it, checking the time. "I have to go now. Mom's coming home tonight."

"Do you want me to walk you home?" San asked.

"Oh, don't bother, enjoy these speakers," Seohyun said, giving him a fist bump as she left. She hummed along as she walked, but she had only taken one turn when she thought she saw something out of the corner of her eye.

Another ghost? She had just dealt with one right after school, before joining the boys in the warehouse.

Something flashed right behind her and she whipped to her left, stumbling. She checked left and right but it seemed the ghost had disappeared. But something about its rotting scent was familiar-

Seohyun's breath left her as she was pushed, and she turned just in time so she'd hit the wall with the side of her body instead of face first. She winced in pain, pushing the hair out of her eyes. There was no one there.

But she didn't have to check who it was. The scent had been enough for her.

Seohyun contemplated running home or back to the warehouse. Ghosts couldn't enter property without the owner or mediator's permission, and since the warehouse was the closest, she decided she'd make a run for it.

She smelt it as she run, dodging one attack but getting scratched on the back near her shoulder with something sharp- she assumed it was nails. Seohyun ran faster; glad for all the running she'd done as a kid, wishing a good soul would appear and help her. But it was only her- a useless mediator with the power to only see and touch the ghosts, against a vengeful spirit.

Seohyun turned and she was in front of the warehouse. She could hear the music blast and she ran even faster if she could, until she came within what she assumed was the boundary of the property. She turned and indeed, she saw the woman, this time in the clear of the day. She wasn't sure if she could even call it a woman at this point; it was a tangle of overgrown hair, pale skin and dark eyes with purple lips. And long, long nails.

Seohyun shook her head as it disappeared and she stood in the middle of the road, contemplating once again if she should go home and risk encountering them again, or going to the warehouse, and encountering THEM.

She threw her hands in the air in frustration and went inside the warehouse.

"Oh, she's back-" Jongho paused mid-sentence as he saw the disheveled figure of Seohyun, with a bruise on her cheekbone.

Seohyun walked to them, looking at San whose eyes were wide. "It's her," she said, "the one from that hill."

San came to her, inspecting her face; the bruise was light, thankfully. "Are you hurt somewhere else?"

"On my back, I think," Seohyun turned her neck to see and indeed, her shirt was torn where those nails had scratched her. San took her to the sofa and Seonghwa brought a first aid kit, Seohyun eyeing it warily. "I should ask why you have a first aid kit."

"For a day like this, I suppose," Hongjoong said, handing her a glass of water. Seohyun looked at him once as she drank.

"How did she find you?" San asked, taking her hand and caressing it.

"It took her a while to find me, it's been more than two weeks."

"What happened?" Hongjoong asked and Seohyun explained, everyone sitting around her to hear her story.

"Why do ghosts start to look like that?" Yeosang asked.

"I don't exactly know, but time does that to them, I think."

"Don't they look scary?" Wooyoung asked.

"They look scary, but I think the fact that they were human once makes it less scarier to me?" Seohyun shrugged. She grabbed the ointment, applying it to the wound on her face. Then she looked at Seonghwa. "Is the wound on my back bad?"

Seonghwa peeked at what he could see from the torn part of her shirt, there were long cuts. "I think you should get them treated."

"Can you do something about it right now? I'll get them treated later," Seohyun said, biting her lip. Seonghwa nodded. He inspected her state, then said in a low voice, "You'll have to take off your shirt."

Seohyun groaned. At times like this, she really did miss Jiwoo.

"Or we can cut your shirt, since it's already torn," Seonghwa suggested, looking at her with a sad look in his eyes.

"I'll take it off," Seohyun said, "Let's not be awkward about this, okay? Which one of you is the best at first aid?"

"Seonghwa definitely," Mingi said.

"Should I do it?" San asked.

"You're the worst at it," Wooyoung muttered, making Seohyun scoff.

"It's just when it's someone I'm close to! I can't bear it!"

The two of them started to argue, and Seohyun decided to stop them. "I'd like you all to disappear to a corner while Seonghwa does his job. Give me some privacy. And San, you can stay if you want to."

The rest of the boys rushed away, and Seohyun bit her lip. "Not how you thought you'd see me without a shirt for the first time, eh San?"

Seonghwa went into a fit of coughs while San gaped at her statement, finally giving in after a few seconds and laughing, shaking his head. "You really pick the worst time for jokes."

"Alright, here goes," Seohyun turned her back to them and took off her shirt, San helping her hold her hair. She was left in a black bra. She wasn't flustered; not when the exposed wound left her skin stinging, and she sucked in her breath.

San helped her sit on the floor and she brought her arms to her chest, her hair covering the rest of her as Seonghwa carefully applied ointment on the three parallel scratches that ran from her shoulder all the way to the the middle of her back.

"She got you bad, Seohyun," San said worriedly, "what if she comes here?"

"She can't," Seohyun answered, "Can't enter property without owner or my permission."

"That's useful," Seonghwa muttered.

"That's actually handy, Seonghwa," Seohyun had noticed the sarcasm in his voice; she supposed he was angry at the whole situation. "I'm glad I was near when it happened." She rested her head on her knees, San watching Seonghwa apply bandages now, so careful with it. He was definitely being extra careful.

San went to get an extra shirt they had around for Seohyun, and Seonghwa finished up. Seohyun peeked at the bandages, impressed.

"Thanks, Seonghwa."

"Don't mention it," Seonghwa put the stuff back in the kit, "I wish you'd be more careful in the future."

"I can't help it, Seonghwa, believe me, I'm the most careful now," Seohyun said and Seonghwa locked his eyes with her.

"I just don't want to see you hurt, Seohyun-ah. It pains me."

"I know," Seohyun sighed, "I understand."

Seonghwa hesitated then patted her head. "I'm sure you did well back then," he smiled warmly.

"Finally. Thanks again," Seohyun laughed, and San was back. Seohyun took the shirt from him and wore it, standing up. "I'll take a taxi now."

"You sure you don't want me to come with you?" San asked.

"Oh no, it's okay now. She can't follow me in a taxi."

"Okay, at least let me walk you out."

Seohyun said thanks and bye to them all, and they told her to be careful. San and her walked out of the warehouse, and San grabbed her hand, bringing her in for a hug. Seohyun hugged him back, her arms on his back, smiling.

"Were you scared back then?" San asked.

"A little," Seohyun admitted, "Just glad I was near."

San broke the hug, putting her hair behind her ears, touching her cheek below the bruise. "Does it hurt?"

"This? Nope. The one in the back, yes, a little."

"Do get proper treatment," San said, looking at her worriedly.

"I will," Seohyun laughed, "Don't worry too much?"

"How can I not?" San shook his head, leaning forward to kiss her. "Your taxi's here."

------------

Seohyun reached home, cleaning the mess around the house, until she heard the sound of the door opening. Her mother was home.

Seohyun said hello and smiled at her. She looked nothing like her mom; she was tall, had pointy features and narrow eyes, and she looked sharp and intelligent. Her dark hair reached her shoulders. She put her handbag on the table and came to gave her a hug.

"How have you been?"

"Just the usual," Seohyun said, "What about you?"

"Ugh, I've been so busy," she said, collapsing on the sofa. "What do we have for dinner?"

"I'll set the table," Seohyun said. She had prepared her favourite dishes with the help of their previous housemaid, who she was still on good terms with. The old woman would drop by every once in a while, and she'd exchange her kimchi and some traditional dishes for Seohyun's pastas and desserts that she loved.

The mother and daughter caught up on studies and work as they ate. She told Seohyun she would have a busy time in the following month, but she'd try to come for her birthday, or else it was gonna be Christmas.

"How's the ghost business?" Her mother asked, drinking water.

"Was going well, until today I encountered an evil one," Seohyun said, "You'd have to help me with a wound I got on my back."

Her mother stared at her. "Are you alright?"

"Oh I am," Seohyun nodded, "I'll deal with her, I was just caught off-guard. She got me for a second."

"I hope you do," her mother said, "Tell me if you need help."

Seohyun smirked at her, "Wrong thing to say."

Her mother laughed, "Yeah, you probably know way more people than I do. Come on, let me have a look."

Seohyun showed her, and her mother winced. She helped change her bandages and gave her a doctor's information so she could visit and get treated, make up a story about how it was a stray dog or something. Seohyun thanked her, and after chatting a while, she left her to sleep.

"When will you return to work?" Seohyun asked.

"Tomorrow evening. I'll see you off for school in the morning. We'll see each other next month then."

"Oh, okay. Goodnight," Seohyun said, coming to her room and lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling. She wished she had stayed longer. But it was okay.

This was enough.

-----------------

A week had passed without further incidents. Seohyun was careful; she'd take taxi if she could, or she'd keep the sibling duo with her. She called them in, saying she'd owe them one if they could teleport her when needed. So the duo happily stick with her, saying they were bored of living in the hills and would like to visit a school too.

The boys had become friendly with the duo; they'd either communicate through San (who had given up now; he was quite tired of being their voice) or through the old-fashioned way: notebooks. They'd pretend to be studying in class when in fact they'd be having a conversation with the ghosts.

"I have a question," Yeosang said to Seohyun in the middle of class. Seohyun, who had been staring at Mingi and Gayoung conversing, looked at Yeosang.

"How would you get rid of old ghosts like the one you encountered?"

"Good question," Seohyun said, "There are a few options. I could try to talk sense into them. If that doesn't work, I get help from the good ghosts and threaten them. Like, every ghost had some sort of faith, right? Usually works if you use their god against them."

"But what if they have no faith anymore?"

"Goodnight, then, I guess," Seohyun said and Yeosang gasped. "You take help from actual exorcists then too. I once did. Got quite rough, but it works."

"Sounds dangerous," he muttered.

"Kind of," Seohyun agreed.

Seohyun was walking home after school with her new ghost friends when she sensed something amiss. "Just when I thought it was over."

Gayoung and Youngjae covered her back and front defensively. The woman appeared out of nowhere, stopping when she saw the ghosts.

"Well, well," she said, and Seohyun winced. Her voice sounded creepy. "What do we have here?"

"What do you want?" Seohyun asked.

"Death of you," the woman laughed, "Don't try to talk me out of it. You can't."

"What good is that gonna do to you?" Seohyun asked, genuinely curious.

The woman laughed again, this time sarcastically. "Don't tell me you didn't know? When a mediator dies, there is a short time period during which there is no other mediator in the world. That's when ghosts can do whatever they want; trespass, interact with humans, and much more."

"How is that true? I mean, if it were really true, more people would be trying to kill me, won't they?"

"Oh dear," the woman smiled this time, all knowingly, which sent chills throughout her body, "That's why it's a secret, isn't it?"

Gayoung and Youngjae shared looks. If it was true, they could interact with their parents, which was all they wanted. But they wouldn't harm Seohyun for that. Not after all she had done for them.

"I'll be back, girl," the woman's voice was sure, "When you least expect it. And I'll make sure I hear you screaming before you die."

The three of them watched as she gave her a long final look before she disappeared. They were quite for a few seconds and Seohyun caught her breath. "Don't tell me you both want to kill me now too."

"Oh, we wouldn't," Gayoung said, "We really wouldn't."

"You sound very assuring, noona," Youngjae said sarcastically, earning a tsk as he looked at Seohyun. "Let's get you home. We'll look for someone else who can get rid of that old bitch."

Seohyun nodded and they walked home, the duo arguing while Seohyun just walked blankly. She couldn't get the look the ghost had given out of her head. She sounded so sure. As if she had something already planned for her.

Seohyun sat in front of the TV for hours, her mind blank. All she could think was how her gut had felt when she'd said that. As if that was something that was bound to happen. Was she really gonna die?

Seohyun had never been too afraid of dying; not like an average person. For her, it was a life full of danger. She had welcomed and played with aspect of death. But her life had changed drastically over the past months. She had found people to live for. And that meant she was more scared this time.

Her phone buzzed and she read the text. It was from San asking if she wanted him to come over. Seohyun bit her lips in thought. Then she texted 'come over with chocolate ice cream please'.

And San did so. They sat on the sofa, watching TV and eating ice cream as they talked about this and that. Seohyun somehow found it very easy to talk to him, and so did San. He told her all about how he used to live in the countryside when he was little (hence the slight accent), he had mostly grown up with his grandparents because his parents were busy people.

"Don't you miss your parents when they're away?" Seohyun asked. Her ice cream was finished.

"I do, of course. Don't you?"

"I miss my mom sometimes," Seohyun admitted. "She's not as bad as you all think."

San gave her a pointed look and she threw a pillow at him, which he caught. "Come on, you have to admit. She talks to me. She let's me do normal stuff. She doesn't think I'm crazy. And she remembers my birthday every year. That's more than I can ask for."

"Don't you wish she did more?"

"I used to, but then I just accepted it. It's just the way it is."

San looked at her and spread his arms for her. She just threw another pillow at him, rolling her eyes. "I'm serious."

"Okay, okay. What about the ghost?"

"Well," Seohyun sighed and told him what had happened. San listened intently.

"Is there something we can do about it?" he asked.

"I'll go to that exorcist I know, but San," Seohyun turned to face him, "Something's different this time. I can't shake the feeling that something bad is gonna happen."

"It's probably just you overthinking?"

"No, it's different this time," Seohyun sounded sure, and San was actually surprised, "Something is gonna happen and it's gonna be bad. God, I want to cry."

San watched as she put her head in her hands, sighing. She heard San scoot over and she scooted away. "If you hug me now, I'm afraid I'll really cry."

"It's okay to cry, Seohyun, come here," San grabbed her arm and brought her in for a hug, and Seohyun let herself cry. It had been so long since she'd last cry.

"I'm sorry," Seohyun said, sniffing, "I miss Jiwoo a lot, if she was here, she would have handled this so well. I can't help but feel scared for you."

"Do you think something's gonna happen to me?" San asked as he patted her head.

"No. I don't know. I don't know and it's making me so frustrated," Seohyun said and cried harder. San only patted her back, muttering comforting words.

Seohyun drew back and wiped her face. "Sorry for crying on you."

"Anytime," San laughed. "I can understand that you're scared Seohyun, tell me what I can do for you."

"Just- stay with me. That's enough."

San nodded, taking her hand. "Do you want me to play something for you?"

Seohyun raised her brow, "Can you?"

"I can play the piano a little bit, unless you want me to play the violin and scare the dead away."

Seohyun laughed, "Let's go."

They went to the room, and San showed her what he'd learnt from Hongjoong of the piano. Seohyun appreciated the gesture, and on his insistence, she played the violin for him again, and he watched her adoringly.

When she was done, she put the violin down. "I came here a few days ago. I wanted to play the violin but I couldn't because it reminded me of you and I missed you. I played today. It seems like now I only play for you."

Seohyun was packing the violin when San hugged her from the back, his arms around her waist as he rocked them back and forth. Seohyun smiled. He was such a romantic.

"I like that," he whispered in her ear, making her laugh because it tickled. He nibbled on her ear, making her laugh.

"It's like the music room does something to you, San, you become such a romantic."

"I can assure you I'm the same anywhere else too," he said, still hugging her.

Seohyun looked at the clock. It was already 10 pm and they had no school tomorrow. She broke the hug and looked at him, his hands on her waist now.

"I know it's too much to ask, San, and I need you to give an honest answer, okay? I won't mind. But, can you... stay here tonight?" Seohyun almost whispered, tears welling up in her eyes again. "I'm just- I can't be alone tonight. I feel it. Something's gonna happen."

San touched her face, nodding. "Of course. If you want me to. I'll leave early in the morning."

Seohyun sighed in relief, a tear escaping her eye, "Thank you, San. Thank you."

San wiped the tear from her face. He felt scared about how she was feeling too. It was so unusual. Seohyun was always so strong, and she felt so... human. He couldn't leave her like this. He bent down and kissed her lips slowly, her arms going around his neck and her hands in his hair, clearly glad for the distraction.

She broke apart and took his hand, taking him to her bedroom, only the dim lamp on. She pushed him on the bed, surprising him, as she shut the door and kicked off her shoes, climbing on the bed and sitting on his lap. His arms were holding him from lying down and Seohyun went to cup his face and kiss him, so deeply as if she was saying her thanks through this. San's stomach turned, his heart beating wildly and he took the chance, taking one arm to grab her, but fell flat on the bed.

Seohyun was now on top of him. She stared at him for the longest time, and it made San feel so many different things. He saw the necklace he had given her dangling off her neck, and his hand went to touch it as a smile made its way on his face.

Seohyun smiled too then gave him soft pecks on his lips, both of them smiling through it. She was taking her sweet time and San had enough. He flipped her down, now on top of her, making her gasp in surprise as he smirked. But his smirked wiped off as she leaned forward and took his shirt off, running her hands through his toned body.

"Damn, San, I didn't know you worked out," Seohyun smirked.

San only smiled as he kissed her, loving the feeling of her hands all over him. His hands went to her waist and she broke apart for a second, motioning him to unbutton her shirt. San looked at her to make sure it was okay and she nodded, rolling her eyes but smiling.

"Is your wound okay now?" San asked as he unbuttoned her shirt.

"Probably left a scar," Seohyun muttered and he made her sit so he could check.

She was right. 3 parallel scratches had left their scar. It would take time to fade. "You reminded me of that ghost again, San. Distract me."

San kissed her bare shoulder, making her gasp, and kissed and nibbled on her neck, playing with her necklace. Seohyun moaned and felt San smile. She slapped his shoulder, making him laugh. "You asked for it," he said.

"I'm gonna make you moan so loud, Choi San-"

"Sshh," he said, kissing her passionately. Seohyun took that chance to bite on his lower lip while her hands gripped his waist now, and that earned her a moan. It was her turn to smile. San kissed her some more, before lying down with her, pulling the covers over them.

"It's late," he said, bringing her closer, "Sleep now."

"I don't wanna..." Seohyun said, putting her arm around him and kissed his neck, earning a sigh.

"I'm not gonna be able to stop if you keep doing that," San sighed. Seohyun melted at his words.

"Glad to know that," she whispered, but just hugged him, kissing his shoulder innocently now.

"I love you, San. You know that, right?"

"I know," he whispered back.

"I should tell you that everyday. Hell, I should have told you that everyday. I'm sorry."

"Seohyun," San made her face him, "You don't have to. I know that. You don't even have to say it out loud."

"Still," Seohyun said, "I should have told you that everyday."

San stared at her. He kissed her forehead and hugged her. "I love you too. And you know that right? I say it everyday, goofily, jokingly, or sometimes serious. But you still know it, even when I say it as a joke. That's because you know, just like I do."

Seohyun nodded. She buried her face in his chest, going under the covers, his arms securely around him.

"Goodnight, love." San whispered.

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