#*as opposed to like. missing a couple meals.

[borrelia]

anyway :) today i learned the reason you DON'T do inhalants for fun is that it inhibits a central metabolic pathway at a very basic very essential cellular level (TCA cycle). and that inhibition prevents your cells from doing the one other very basic very essential metabolic pathway they all know how to do too (glycolysis). which means your cells get No energy. to do Anything they need to do. they starve in a very immediate very serious way that doesn't normally happen to them.* so that shit can kill you pretty bad!

[kwanisms]

Dinner & Dessert — c.jh

«« previous | ateez masterlist | next »»

➮ virgin!Jongho × experienced!Reader wc: 3.6k summary: Jongho takes Y/N out on a nice dinner date but they decide to have dessert back at Y/N's dorm room. genres/themes/au: light fluff, smut; best friends to lovers (bff2l), college setting; non idol au, bff au, college au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, reader is smaller than Jongho, alcohol consumption, mentions of food, sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut!

special tags: @bro-atz permanent taglist: @yoonguurt @candidupped @dejavernon @violagoth @tigermoonbiss @katsukis1wife @luvsooby @suveilenceysystem @salty-for-suga @simeonswhore @yangracha @labyrinthonmymind @bintificreads @toxic-babexe @plutoneu @sunwoosbaby @lilramennoodle @chocolate-scoups @ayoo-bangtan @walkingtravesty97 @yevene @certifiedmoa @nottkwiwin @juskz   ateez taglist: @2hodefender @cixrosie @pyeonghongrie-main @starlitmark @sanjoongie @anyamaris @stardragongalaxy @kpop-stories-21 @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @mlysalt @cinnamoon-belle @briannabk22 @is4b3ll3s @hyukssunflower @vampiirose @0325tiny @ateezstanforever @justiny @jeongwangjessmina @lacie220900 @aaaaajonghooooo @dementedaly @confusedmoonchild777 @burnsmepls @nebulousbookshelf

join my taglist! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you.  MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: sorry it's taken so long to get this out but here's the next part of the Jongho Corruption Kink Miniseries. Thank you to Bro for reading this for me cause I wasnt sure if it was any good. I don't have much else to say about this other than I cranked this out in a couple hours so I hope you like it! Thank you for reading and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: oral (f & m receiving), cum swallowing, praise (m receiving), slight body worship (f receiving), corruption kink, pussy drunk Jongho (man gets one taste and just goes feral), mild face fucking (f receiving), deepthroating, use of pet names (hers: baby, babe, angel; his: babe, baby), light fingering (f receiving), and I think that's all? Lemme know if I missed any!

══════════════════════════════════════════════════════

“I want you to teach me how to give oral.”

The words had caught you off guard as soon as they left your best friend boyfriend’s lips. Your lips parted in shock as you let the noodles from your meal slip off your fork while you fixed him with an incredulous stare.

Quickly, you glanced around before leaning in and meeting his gaze.

“We are in public, Jongho!” you hissed. He said nothing, merely blinking back at you like he hadn’t just said something inherently sexual and inappropriate for dinner conversation.

Not that you were opposed to this kind of behavior, you just didn’t expect it from your virgin best friend boyfriend. From you? Definitely but from him? Unexpected, but welcomed.

Ever since teaching him how to properly finger you, you’d seen an uptick in his eagerness and willingness to initiate sexual intimacy. Of course you’d never gone past touching one another as you didn’t want to pressure Jongho into doing anything he wasn’t ready for.

Clearly, he was ready for more.

“So?” he muttered, glancing down at his plate and back up as you set your utensil down and picked up your napkin. This was the last thing you expected when he asked you out for dinner.

Jongho had texted you right after class and asked if you wanted to get dinner. You initially had expected him to bring take out over, a pizza or some other favorite place but instead, he told you to be ready to leave in an hour and told you to dress up.

It wasn’t entirely like him to be so assertive but since you started seeing each other (among other things), Jongho’s confidence had seen a huge boost and you like to think you had a hand in that although you knew it was entirely on him. 

He’d shown up to your dorm looking less like your chaste best friend boyfriend and was instead oozing every ounce of sex appeal you knew he had. The ride to the restaurant had been silent mostly but it wasn’t awkward in the slightest and you were thankful that he was distracted by driving as it gave your eyes the chance to wander and appreciate everything they could take in.

Jongho had gone beyond your expectations, going so far as to make a reservation, meaning he had to have been planning this for at least a week. You were beyond impressed by his efforts. You remembered a conversation the two of you had a week or so ago where he assured you that what you had was more than just the physical stuff to him. He wanted more and you did, too. It was just hard to keep your hands to yourself sometimes.

So when he suddenly sprang this on you, to say you were shocked was an understatement.

Your lips threatened to turn into a smirk before you spoke.

“Well, at least you’re taking me out to dinner first,” you mused, making Jongho look down at his plate as the hostess walked by, guiding a couple to another table. He looked back up to meet your gaze. “So will you?” he asked softly, eyes shining with a curiosity that was both adorable but also played into your more carnal desire to corrupt your virginal boyfriend in every way possible.

You lifted your wine glass slowly, taking a sip and maintaining eye contact, setting it back down before answering him. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?” you asked. Jongho inhaled and exhaled slowly before nodding fervently. You admired how hard he tried to keep his composure but you could tell under the facade, he was eager to have you under him again.

‘Cute.’

Jongho would be a liar if he said he wasn’t eager to have you under him again. Ever since he’d made you come with just his fingers, he’d wondered what it’d be like to have you come undone on his tongue. He thought about it far more than he cared to admit even to himself.

Ever since that first night, months ago, when you made him come in his pants, he’d been insatiable. Knowing you wanted him as much as he wanted you and then some gave him a much needed confidence boost. Sure, this relationship was about more than just sex but no one could blame him for wanting to be intimate with his best friend girlfriend.

As he held your gaze, hoping you’d say yes to his proposal, you toyed with your fork, no doubt contemplating his words rather than if you wanted to continue eating. He hoped you’d say yes. He was about to beg (not like he wasn’t entirely above it. Not when he was dying to get a taste) when you smiled that lovely smile that always managed to give him butterflies, make his brain turn to mush, and his cock twitch in his pants. Fuck, he was down so bad.

Before you could respond, the server returned to the table and Jongho took the opportunity to end the night. “Could we get the check please?” he asked. The server nodded before looking between the two of you. “Were we thinking of any dessert?” he asked. You shook your head. “No,” you said softly, thanking him before he nodded and walked away to get your bill.

“We’ve got dessert at home.”

No sooner than you were back in your dorm did Jongho have your door shut, locked your back pressed against it, lips on yours as his hands wandered, grabbing the material of your dress and slowly bunching it up past your thighs. “Jjongie,” you murmured as his lips left yours to trail kisses down the side of your neck. “We should probably take these off,” you added, trying to undo the button on your jacket.

Jongho let out an animalistic growl, grabbing your hands and pinning them against the wall.

“I’m getting to it,” he mumbled, lips attaching to your neck once more but his hands keeping your wrists firmly against the wood of your door. “Well hurry up,” you teased as you tried to pull against his hold on your wrists. To your surprise, Jongho gave in easily, letting go of your wrists and opting instead to fumble with the buttons of your jacket.

Once he managed to undo them, the fabric just seemed to slide off you as your own hands worked quickly to unzip his own jacket and push it off him. You felt his hands trying to pull at your dress, a silent plea to remove it but you had other plans, instead taking a temporary lead and guiding him to your bed only for him to gently but firmly push you down onto it.

Before he could guide you further back, you grabbed him by the hips, holding him steady as you looked up at him through your lashes. “Let me take care of you first, baby,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper but more than loud enough in the silence of your dorm room for him to hear.

Wordlessly, Jongho’s hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin and down over your bottom lip. “A-are you sure?” he asked nervously. You smiled up at him, not breaking eye contact as you slowly unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. “Yes,” you whispered again.

“I’m sure.” 

It didn’t take you long to pull his pants down just enough to expose his hard cock, hidden in the confines of his underwear. You carefully pressed your palm against it, feeling the heat radiating through the fabric of his boxers. You heard him inhale sharply and fought the urge to smirk. You’ve barely touched him and yet he was so responsive. You felt a small surge of pride over being able to have such an effect on him merely by touching him over his underwear.

Not wanting to keep him, or yourself, waiting, you ran your hand up, tucking the tips of your fingers under the waistband of his underwear and slowly pulling the material down until his cock sprang free, standing proudly and waiting for you to touch.

Tearing your gaze away from Jongho’s temporarily, you wrapped your hand around the base and gave him a tentative stroke, enjoying the way he let out a whimper. As much as you wanted to tease him about it, you chose not to, wanting to make him feel good.

Parting your lips, you took him by surprise by taking him into your mouth without any warning, making him gasp, one of his hands moving to your head, fingers tightening slightly in your hair. “Shit,” he hissed, breath already coming out raggedly.

Oh how you wanted to tease him for it so badly. Falling apart so quickly. ‘Another time.’

You sank slowly, taking more and more of him in your mouth, the weight of his cock heavy on your tongue. He tried to focus on his breathing, trying to keep his composure no doubt but you knew his resolve would crumble the moment you started bobbing your head.

And crumble it did.

No sooner than you started moving, did he let out a loud moan. Almost too loud. If anyone had been walking by your room at that exact moment, there would be no doubt in their mind what was going on behind the door. Not that you’d mind. You really didn’t care what your dorm neighbors thought.

The only thing that mattered was that your boyfriend, your oh-so-sweet and innocent boyfriend, was in your room, cock in your mouth, and the eagerness to learn how to please you after you got him off. It seemed only fair to show him what you could do first before teaching him what to do.

A preemptive reward if you will.

Each bob of your head had Jongho choking back a moan, resisting the urge to bite his fist to muffle the sounds even more than he was. You pulled back, his cock falling from your tongue to look up at him. Your hand took over temporarily as you looked up at him and spoke.

“Don’t hold back,” you said, voice slightly hoarse. “I don’t care who hears you.”

Jongho shook his head. “I don’t want your neighbors to complain,” he whispered, stifling a groan as your hand worked him even more. “Fuck them” you retorted. “I want to hear how good I make you feel, baby,” you added. Jongho studied your face for a moment, contemplating whether he should just toss his inhibitions aside but the decision was made for him when you took him back in your mouth, letting out an unrestrained moan.

You felt a swell of pride in your chest as you moved, each unrestrained moan a dulcet melody to your ears. You continued to move, hollowing your cheeks as you pulled back. Glancing up, you met his heated gaze, and felt that distinct throb between your legs. “Babe,” he moaned, gently stroking your hair. “Let me—” whatever he was about to say faltered as he let out a whine, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat and making you gag.

You barely gave him a chance to recover as you sank further, taking his cock further until the head rested just in the back of your throat. Jongho let out a choked moan as you swallowed around him. “Fuck, baby, wait,” Jongho gasped, cock twitching in your mouth. You pulled back and looked up at him.

“I was about to cum,” he panted, making you smirk. “That’s the goal,” you said softly, licking your lips. “Just, give me a moment,” Jongho said breathlessly and you nodded, watching him regulate his breathing. The silence was punctuated only by his ragged breathing.

“Uhm, Y/N?” he finally spoke. You looked up at him. “Hmm?”

“Could I… try something?” His voice sounded so soft and full of curiosity. How could you deny his genuine curiosity? You couldn’t. You wouldn’t.

“Of course,” you replied sweetly. “What would you like to try?”

Of course, at that moment, your sweet boyfriend’s words failed him. “I-I… I w-wanted to…” You smiled up at him. “Take your time,” you cooed. “I’m not going anywhere. And don’t feel embarrassed for asking for anything. I’m happy to let you try anything you—”

“Could I fuck your face?”

You weren’t sure what you were expecting to come out of his mouth but it certainly wasn’t that.

“Oh,” you said softly, caught off guard. Jongho’s face flushed in the low light of your room. “S-sorry,” he muttered quickly. “F-forget I said anything!” He started to pull his underwear up but you stopped him. “I told you that you have nothing to be embarrassed about, babe,” you said softly.

“If you want to try that, we certainly can.”

Jongho stared at you, eyes widening as you tugged his pants and underwear back down. “R-really?” he asked, unable to hide the excitement in his voice. ‘Cute.’ You nodded, a smile ever present on your face.

“Of course,” you replied. “If I tap your thigh twice, that means stop, okay?” you asked. He nodded excitedly. You licked your lips before parting them and allowing him to guide the head of his cock into your mouth. You breathed in slowly and nodded, letting him know you were ready.

The first thrust was shallow, almost as if he was testing the waters. You nodded again. He gave you another shallow thrust. You pulled back quickly. “Don’t worry about me,” you said softly. “Just go for it. I’ll stop you if I need to.”

The moment his cock was back in your mouth, Jongho did as you said and went for it. One hand held your head in place, giving you a few tentative thrusts before just letting go. Each thrust had the tip hitting the back of your throat, making lewd sounds fill the room. 

Jongho’s hand moved to the back of your head and you were taken by surprise as he pushed your head further, forcing the head of his cock into the back of your throat. You gagged, despite trying to fight it but he didn’t let up. Instead, he gave you another thrust, pushing further into your throat.

“Oh shit,” you heard him curse. You felt his cock twitch against your tongue and before he could pull you off him, you grabbed his hips, holding him firmly in place. “F-fuck, I’m gonna—”

His words were cut off by a moan as he came, load spilling down your throat. You held him still until you were sure he was done before pulling back, coughing slightly. “Oh shit, are you okay, angel?” Jongho asked quickly, taking your face in his hands and inspecting your face. You smiled at him.

“More than okay,” you answered, carefully pulling his underwear back up over his softening cock and zipping up his pants. Jongho pulled you into a kiss, tongue slipping into your mouth and tasting himself on your tongue.

“Lie back,” he muttered against your lips, leaning over you as he spoke. You scooted backwards on your bed as Jongho climbed over you, lips pressing against yours as his hand bunched your dress up against your hip. “Can I remove this?” he asked softly. You nodded, letting out a soft giggle as his fingers skimmed against your bare skin as he hiked your dress up.

“Wait,” you said softly, grabbing his hands. Jongho looked up, meeting your gaze. “What? What’s wrong?” he asked, searching your face. You cupped his cheek tenderly. “Take your time,” you muttered. “Don’t rush things.”

Jongho nodded, letting your dress fall against the bed, exposing only below your navel, giving him full view of your red lace panties. “Oh fuck,” he whispered. “You’re going to be the death of me, babe.” You drew your bottom lip between your teeth, holding back a smile as Jongho pressed a couple chaste kisses against your collar before glancing up at you, his hands slowly sliding down your chest, cupping your breasts briefly.

“I know I’m supposed to be learning to give oral,” he started, looking back up at you. “But could I please, take this off? Please, baby, please,” he murmured. “I really just wanna see your beautiful body.” 

Hearing the compliment from him made your cheeks grow warm. “Another time, okay? Let’s focus on the lesson,” you replied. Jongho sighed and nodded, slowly kissing down your body over the material of your dress until he reached your stomach. He looked up to meet your gaze.

“Now what?” he asked. “Take your time,” you started. “Just do what you feel comfortable doing.”

Without another word, you stifled a giggle as his kisses tickled your skin. “Should I take these off?” he asked, fingers toying with the lace of your panties. You nodded. “Go ahead.”

You lifted your hips as Jongho pulled the fabric down, removing them and tossing them aside. “Do I just…” he trailed off. “Just do what you feel comfortable doing. You’ve touched me before, if you want to start with that, I’m fine with that. I just want you to be comfortable,” you said, propping yourself up on your elbows as Jongho looked up at you from between your thighs.

“Or I could just…” he trailed off, spreading your lips before giving you a light lick, tongue flat against your clit. “Yeah,” you said breathily as he dove back in. “You could do that, too.”

“Remember what I told you before. Focus on the cli— ah!” you gasped as you felt his tip of his tongue pass over your clit, already sensitive from not getting any attention earlier. “Like that?” he asked, peeking at you as you fell back against the bed. “Y-yeah, like that,” you answered.

Jongho gave you a cheeky smile which you didn’t see and went back to it, diving back in. Each pass of his tongue over your aching clit had you moaning, the backs of your thighs resting against his shoulders as he buried his face between your legs.

“Are you sure you haven’t done this before?” you asked between moans, one hand moving down to tangle in his dark locks. “Cause it sure seems like you know what you’re doing.” Jongho hummed against you, the vibrations adding to the pleasure. “I’m sure,” he finally managed to get out, licking his lips. “If I had, I think we’d already be past this,” he added.

“Oh?” you asked, lifting your head. “Where would we be, then?”

Jongho pulled back, slowly caressing your thigh. “With you on your stomach, my cock buried in your pussy,” he replied nonchalantly. Your jaw fell slack, surprised at the sudden surge of confidence exuding from your boyfriend. “Should we skip oral and go straight to that or—?” you asked, resisting the urge to smirk when Jongho frowned at you.

“No,” he answered. “I want to learn this,” he continued. You reached to take his chin in your hand. “You seem to have a pretty good handle on it,” you complimented. “But by all means, keep going. Make me cum all over that handsome face.”

Jongho didn’t wait for another invitation, pulling you to meet his face, his tongue continuing its assault on your clit. You’d had partners go down on you before but none of them had ever been this eager. It was like once he’d gotten a taste, there was no stopping Jongho until you came, which you weren’t complaining about, not when you were being pushed to the edge every time he kissed, licked, or sucked. You wondered if he’d watched something or read something for pointers.

Maybe that’s what spurred this whole thing on. Had he been doing ‘homework’ so to speak? And he wanted to take this next step and prove himself to you? Whatever his motivation, you weren’t sure nor could you care when your thighs were threatening to squeeze around his head.

“That’s it,” you gasped, resisting the urge to grind against his tongue. “Just like that, baby. Fuck, you’re doing so good.”

The praise did wonders for Jongho’s ego and it showed as his actions became more confident, making your back arch off the mattress as he flicked his tongue against your clit. “Close,” you muttered. “I’m so close.” You heard him hum and felt two fingers toying with your slit before sinking into you.

Where the fuck did he learn that? No, when did he learn that? “Oh fuck, keep going, baby. You’re doing so good. How are you so good at this?” you hissed as his fingers curled inside you, pushing you over the edge and you gasped out a warning that you were about to cum.

You were grateful your boyfriend was so strong or you might have crushed his head. Instead, he held your thighs open as your orgasm washed over you, your hips moving to ride out your high until your body shook from overstimulation. “Okay, baby, that’s good,” you said breathlessly.

Jongho wiped his lips and chin on the back of his hand and grinned at you, clearly proud of his work. “How was that?” he asked, sounding just as proud as he looked. You lightly slapped his hand on your thigh and chuckled. “You passed. You got an A in fact.”

Jongho climbed over you, pressing a soft kiss against your lips. “An A, huh?” he asked softly. You hummed, nodding in response. “Hmm,” he murmured, giving you another kiss.

“How would I go about getting some extra credit then?” 

Your eyes opened and looked up at him. “Extra credit?” you asked.

“Yeah,” Jongho said softly, kissing you again, one of his hands sneaking between your bodies.

“Gotta turn that A into an A plus somehow.”

ⓘ DISCLAIMER :: MONSTER/ALIEN FUCKER ENTHUSIAST ⓘ ©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me. Content and support banners made by me using cafekitsune's template.

[gravehags]

destroying all (and make them want it again)

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: EXPLICIT, MDNI

Tags: copia holding reader hostage for marathon fucking, copia being our favorite little sex freak, office sex, blowjobs, terzo being terzo, reader becoming more satanic every day :)

Words: 2,848

Summary: You'd think after almost three days of being held hostage by your perverted lover, you'd have tired of his touch. You'd think.

a/n: i for one would really benefit from being locked up in bed with copia for days like i really think i deserve that

~~~

By the time Copia allows you to stumble out of his quarters two days after your fateful visit you are delightfully, deliciously sore.

You had no idea he’d be so…voracious. Your mild-mannered awkward Cardinal had you bent over and spread on every surface in his apartment, multiple times, drawing words out of you that you never dreamed of saying. He wasn’t a cruel kidnapper either - sporadically he would leave the apartment and return to you bearing sustenance from the dining hall. Your favorite was lounging nude on his mussed sheets while he dutifully and adoringly fed you plump purple grapes, kissing you in between bites. The thought stirs your heart as you open your apartment door and stumble inside to your bedroom to collapse face down on the duvet. You groan as you hike one leg up, the beautiful ache of being thoroughly used emanating from your core and into your muscles. You’re about to throw yourself in the shower when your phone vibrates.

Miss you already bellezza mia xx

You sigh.

Miss you more <3

I could…come over?

You laugh out loud, shaking your head.

You dog! You’re relentless. I haven’t showered in days, I feel filthy.

I could help you feel filthier ;)

Copia! Not that I’m opposed to the idea but my girl needs a break, per favore. You’ve worn her out.

Mi dispiace amore, she’s just so plump and willing and perfect for me, I can’t help myself.

Speaking of your girl, she’s stirring to attention at the thought of where this conversation is going and your fingers hover over the screen, tempted, before shaking your head.

You’re welcome to come over but no funny business. Might show my face in the dining hall to prove I’m still alive if you’re interested in meeting me there.

There’s a pause and your phone vibrates.

I’ll meet you at dinner and see if I can’t persuade her. Ti amo <3

Love you

When the two of you meet up a couple hours later at your usual table in the dining hall you garner more than a few curious looks. Rather than taking his typical spot across from you, instead he elects to sit next to you. You’re midway through a forkful of vegetarian lasagna when you feel the slide of leather clad fingers along your thigh. When you slowly turn your head, Copia’s shit-eating grin pans into view and you drop your fork, unamused.

“Really? In front of my lasagna?”

He gives you a creepy nod, still holding his smile and the sight has you bringing a fist to your mouth to stifle your laughter. Reaching down you grab one of his fingers and bend it back slightly as a warning.

“Ah, my amore would never hurt–ah!”

He cradles his hand to his chest and gives you a pout unbefitting a man of his distinguished age and position.

“Told you,” you say, shoving a bite of lasagna into your mouth then pointing at him with your fork, “no funny business.”

“Oh she’s cruel,” he laments, shaking his head, “La mia crudele, bella padrona. She would watch me wither away, never to feel her touch–”

“Oh come on, Copia, you held me hostage in your bed for almost three days! This is the first real meal I’ve had in literal days please let me–”

“She does not care for me,” he says, somehow managing to give you the most unsettling puppy-dog eyes ever. “She tells me she hates me and she wants me dead.”

“Oh for the love of fuck you cannot be serious,” your cheek rests on your propped up fist, watching this ridiculous display. “I just want to enjoy my lasagna unmolested,” you lower your voice as a sibling walks past, giving the two of you a disgusted once-over, “so naturally that means I hate you. Unholy fuck, if I had known pussy was going to turn you into this I never would have–”

“What kind of fuck?” Copia asks innocently, mustache twitching.

“I–hmm. You must be rubbing off on me.”

“Is that an invitation?” he asks, filthy leer returning to his face.

You roll your eyes but can’t smother the smile.

“I’m leaving, Copia,” you announce, standing up. “If you would like to accompany me to bed - for sleep - then you know where to find me. Unbelievable.”

You stomp off and you can feel his eyes on the sway of your ass the entire way out of the room. He does join you, not long after that, the picture of a perfect gentleman as he strokes your hair and places soft kisses to the top of your head. You can’t lie though - a part of you is disappointed he didn’t continue his dirty old man routine but, you think as your eyes drift closed, you really did need to give your poor cunt a break.

The next morning you awaken to an empty space beside you and you’re not surprised. Copia had to wake up early for morning prayer and you’ve been lucky to have had him by your side for as long as you did. You feel his absence acutely - how could you not after days with him? - and it leaves you with a lingering sense of melancholy as you get ready for the day and leave your quarters. The first few hours of your work day passes without incident - typing emails, ordering archival supplies, meeting briefly with Sister Imperator (with whom you can barely make eye contact after shirking your duties to get repeatedly and thoroughly railed by her Cardinal), and continuing on your quest to catalog the Ministry’s extensive art collection. When lunchtime rolls around that unpleasant sadness sits heavy in your belly. Part of you feels ridiculous letting yourself be so affected by well, love, but hey it’s your first time at this, right? Gotta cut yourself some slack. Your heart aches for him but also…other parts of you. You thought for sure after the marathon he just put you through you’d be satisfied for a while but if anything it’s made you even more hungry. When you look up at the clock and realize it’s lunchtime, a low heat begins to simmer in your belly and between your legs. You hesitate before standing up and heading to the door with a grin on your face.

When you approach Copia’s office door and knock softly, you’re met with a muffled “entrare!” and open it to sidle inside. He’s on his old landline with someone he clearly would rather not be speaking to judging from his exaggerated eye-rolls and dismissive hand gestures. You quietly walk up to his desk and try not to laugh as you listen to him desperately try to end the conversation.

“Uh-huh. Yes. Yep. Uh, you too. Okay, goodbye. Good–what? Yes that will be taken care of, of course. Buh-bye. Bye.” Copia slams the receiver down and turns to fix you with a tired stare.

“Long day?” you ask, rounding the desk to lean against it.

“Stressful day, all of a sudden the fundraiser gala is my problem when it should be Terzo’s problem, but where is Terzo? Nowhere to be found, naturalmente. And Saltaria–wh-what are you doing?”

You’re halfway through sinking to your knees next to him when you blink up at him innocently.

“Helping with the stress.”

His jaw falls open and he swallows thickly, eyes on the way you inch up your flowy skirt to expose your spread thighs to his gaze. You place your hands on his knees and he jumps comically.

“Cardinale, you were very thorough in your ah, teachings these past few days however there are some areas we never touched upon.”

“O-oh?”

“Mmm mmhmm,” you confirm, grabbing the end of his black cassock and inching it up his legs. When you reach past his knees and can go no further he lifts himself off the chair and hastily draws the garment to his hips. You smile at the tent in his trousers and your tongue darts out to wet your lips.

“Missed you this morning,” you murmur, hand coming up to cup the curve of his cock. “Been wanting you so badly all day.”

“T-thought you were eh, sick of my advances?”

You give him a gentle squeeze and smile, resting your cheek on his knee.

“That was yesterday,” you say, finger drawing patterns on his bulge, “And while she might be tired, I certainly am not.”

His gloved hands grip the armrests of his desk chair as you lean forward to slowly unzip his trousers. When you take him out, hard and leaking, he sighs.

“You don’t know how many times I came into this office wanting to do this exact thing,” you confess, hand wrapping around him, “How all you had to do was say the word and I’d be on my knees or bent over that desk.”

He sucks in a breath.

“I-Is that so, amore? So all those times we were in here working, you–”

“--Were thinking about you fucking me raw? Mmhmm.”

Copia lets out a sigh and his head falls against the back of his chair.

“But let’s not think about the past, hmm? All I want to think about right now is you teaching me how you like to fuck my mouth. Okay?”

His hips buck into your touch and he lets out a whine before nodding. Slowly, keeping your eyes on his, you bring your lips to the red, swollen head of him and place a chaste kiss. Pre dampens your lips and you slowly dart your tongue out to taste the salt of him. He exhales shakily and encouraged, you lower yourself once more to drag the tip of your tongue along his slit. His low whimper makes you grin and gently you slide your lips over the head, flattening your tongue underneath him. You want to drag this out as long as possible, delighting in the feel of his heated flesh in your mouth so you suckle at it and moan around him when his gloved hand flies to the back of your head.

“D-dolcezza,” he breathes, burying his fingers in your hair to cup your skull, “Are you s-sure you’ve never done this before?”

You slip him out of your mouth and give him a grin.

“I’m flattered,” you murmur, using your thumb to rub against the vein going down the length of him, “But no. Just watched a lot of porn, honestly.”

He chuffs out a laugh and his head tips back to thunk against the back of his chair.

“Tell me what you want, my love,” you say, “Tell me what you like. Guide me.”

His eyes slip closed and a lazy grin curls his lips.

“Amore you could bite it off and I’d say thank you,” he groans as you lower your lips to suck at the head once more, “But–ah–I want to see what y-your instinct tells you, si?”

When you laugh around him the vibrations make his hips twitch against your mouth, and you take that as permission. Slowly, you slide your lips past the head and down the shaft and you can feel yourself dripping at the way he stretches your mouth. You’re about half way down the length of him and you can feel him petting your hair.

“Bene, amore mio,” he chokes out, “Molto bene. C-can you, eh, take more?”

You’re not sure but you’re willing to try, so you nod as best you can.

“Breathe through your nose, amata,” he sighs and you can feel drool threatening to spill from your lips and tears prick your eyes as you near the base of him. When the head of him prods your throat you swallow around him and the action causes his hips to spasm. Panicked, you jerk backwards - not sliding all the way off but just enough to where you can catch your breath - and you hear him murmuring praise above you.

“Cazzo, so good for me, taking me all the way into that pretty mouth. You’re doing so well for me, bellezza mia.”

His words of encouragement make your clit throb and push you to once again slide your lips down the length of him, dragging your tongue along the underside. This time, when his hips buck into your mouth you’re ready for him, allowing the head to bump the back of your throat as you nose the brown curls between his legs. Gently, the hand in your hair pulls you off him and pushes you back down, and you realize he’s showing you what he likes. 

“Ah, ragazza intelligente mia,” he groans, and you can feel his eyes on you as you begin to bob your head, “My beautiful girl always knows–ah!--what I like. Always–cazzo–so p-perfect for me. J-Just like that. Just like that, amore. J–augh–”

You’ve picked up your pace, the wet sounds between the two of you pornographic as you hollow your cheeks and suck. The hand unoccupied with gripping his cock, slides under your skirt where you find yourself soaked.

“That’s it,” Copia grunts, “Touch yourself, amata mia. L-Let those sweet fingers–hnngh–rub that pretty little clit.”

You do as he asks, moaning sloppily around his cock as you flex your hips into your hand. His grip on your hair tightens as he begins directing the movements of your head once more, fucking up into your throat and making you gag around him.

“Close,” he pants, “So close, a-amore. C-can I cum down your throat? Me lo permetterai? Please, please, please.”

As best you can, you look up at him and make eye contact. You imagine what he must see between his knees - you with your mouth stuffed full of him, mascara running down your cheeks, and your fingers frantically rubbing at your clit under your skirt - and the thought alone makes you cum, moaning around him and your hips bucking. You nod frantically as you continue chasing your own high and with one, two, three thrusts of his hips Copia empties himself in your throat. The way he holds you steady as his cock twitches in your mouth has you clenching around nothing, desperate for more of him. When he removes his hand from the back of your head to cup your cheek as he pants wildly, you slowly slide off of him and rest your cheek on his trembling knee. You’re only half aware of the way he tucks himself back into his trousers and gently eases you up by the shoulders to sit in his lap. You brush your thumb along his cheekbone and lean in for a slow, deep kiss. He hums contentedly into your mouth and you pull away with a cheeky grin.

“Like the taste of yourself, amore? Filthy thing.”

He tilts his head back and laughs at your echoing of his words said only days ago during your first time together. You lean in and brush noses with him, moving to kiss him once more when the door flies open to reveal Terzo.

“I am here to discuss the gala fra–oh.”

The Papa’s eyes flick between the two of you and the smeared paints on both your lips.

“Ah, a little afternoon delight for my topolini, huh? Tell me was it on the desk? A classic, I–”

“Fuck off, Terzo,” you say.

His face falls.

“No, you don’t mean that bella. You–”

“She said fuck off, Terzo Emeritus. Now.”

Terzo schools his face into an expression of outrage but you can tell he’s trying desperately not to smile.

“Very well, just don’t come crying to me when Imperator asks why your work isn’t done, huh?”

“You mean your work, sì?” Copia says, giving him a look. Terzo lets out a nervous laugh.

“Ah, yes. Well. Perhaps I’ll just take this–” Terzo says, grabbing a thick manila folder labeled GALA “--and get back to ah, fucking off. Ciao ciao, topolini.”

With a flourish, he’s gone.

“Really should have locked that door,” you muse quietly, “Anyone could have come in.”

“Anyone did come in, amore,” Copia laughs, “But not only did you eh, soothe my worries, you inadvertently got Terzo to do his fucking job. Promise me you’ll come see me at lunch more often, sì?”

“Not just for the blowjobs?” you ask innocently, flicking the jeweled grucifix on his chest.

“Next time it’s your turn,” he says, gloved hand inching your floral skirt up your thigh.

“Hmm well last I checked,” you say, looking at your watch, “It’s only half past noon. Plenty of time for you to eat.”

He grins at you.

“You know Terzo was right,” he says, urging you to stand and hop up on the worksurface in front of him.

“Oh?”

“We have under utilized my desk.”

Your smile splits your face as you spread your legs for him to settle between.

“Good thing I wore a skirt then, hmm?”

He’s already hooking a finger on the gusset of your soaked underwear, pulling it to the side.

“Thank Satan for small mercies.”

“Ave Sathanas,” you sigh as you lie back and let him work his devilry.

[viciouslyyearning]

Fuck it big beefy cecaelia named Akos supremacy

I'm specifically having thoughts about little differences between him as a cecaelia (octopus merfolk, tentacles instead of a tail and in my thoughts literally 2x the size of regular merfolk) and his darling lil mate the very much handsome merfolk that is you! Flowey and shiny tail and half his size! There have to be things between species that he'd have difficulty with!

Like... Say for merfolk, intertwining tails between a mated couple. It's the biggest display of vulnerability and comfort and trust cause your inhibiting yourself from swimming if you gotta GTFO! And it's very close physically some close friends or family might wrap around towards the tail fin but there's still freedom to move if ya gotta but mated couples (romantic or platonic tbh) wrap their tails as much and as closely as they can.

Akos doesn't have a tail. You do.

He'll find you staring at his tentacles while you're lounging in his cavern, tail flicking lazily with this silly smile as you're -what he can assume- daydreaming about something.

It isn't until he reads more on merfolks courting habits specifically that he realizes why. And he's both a bit heartbroken that he can't do what your fellow merfolk can with you but also absolutely beaming with pride and just so much love that you might even be thinking about him in such context.

It isn't until you find the slate he had been reviewing the topic on that he finally confesses his thoughts. Once you realize he knows what it means, you easily reply that you've already figured out a solution.

When you hold your arms out to him and give the simplest demand of "Hold me." Happily, he wraps his arms around your upper body, the quickest of his inky black tentacles circling around your tail as they always do. It isn't until you laugh to yourself that he begins to question what you're thinking.

Once you point out how his tentacles wrap around your tail, all you have to do is easily swirl your tail in similar motion and you're effectively intertwined.

Akos stares at your tail curled around his tentacles for a few moments before letting out a Shakey breath.

At your sudden concern he just breathes in relief and tucks your form back into his. He worries so much that you might miss out on something you'd find in a relationship outside of him. It just scares him but he won't admit it.

I also like to imagine that cecaelia have certain habits of their own, such as longer resting periods and higher intake of food. A creature twice the size of his mate might not notice that whenever he prepares a meal he gives them a portion as big as they are, or that every time they sleep together, they'll settle down with him certainly but always have something to occupy their time as he holds them and falls asleep, and once he awakens again they're already awake and fiddling with something else.

Once Akos finally does notice he begins to ask if you're feeling well. In his eyes you hardly eating or sleeping and that's not good.

He almost ignores your desperate "I'm fine!" For a full day, instead doting over you as if you were sickly. Once you finally make him realize,

One: you can't eat everything he gives you because the portion is bigger than your tail most days and your stomach just isn't that big, neither is your second stomach.

Two: you require far less sleep than a far bigger predator, your light and quick and don't burn as much energy hunting or swimming as opposed to him, so you'll happily lay with him every time you both rest but you can't sleep as long, you'll just keep waking up

Then he finally listens and calms down, just differences in species figuring it out and making it work I live for this shit

[ckret2]

*pulls up a chair, turns it backwards, and straddles it with my arms casually resting on the back*

Hi guys. We're gonna talk about vore. In a serious and non-judgmental manner. For five minutes we'll treat it like it's not a joke kink. Thanks.

So something not all of you know about me is I'm asexual; and something probably even less of you know about me is that I'm the kind of asexual who's fascinated by sexuality and kink, like an anthropologist studying a culture with norms and beliefs that are foreign to me. I'm intrigued by what makes people's sexualities tick and what it is that appeals to them about kinks that outsiders see as bizarre or completely incomprehensible.

I maintain a strict "we don't kinkshame here" policy; I'm personally disinterested in but comfortable discussing niche kinks ranging from inflatable pool toys to the earlier-mentioned oculolinctus; and I know that when I have a writing question like "what does poop taste like" oftentimes the most detailed and helpful information will come from people with fetishes that make most of the Internet gasp in horror, and I deeply appreciate their invaluable contributions.

So when I express surprise that I got someone into vore, it's because I have a specific idea about what vore entails that comes from—you guessed it—seeing lots of vore art.

From what I've witnessed, in most cases, it takes more than just "eroticized cannibalism" to make a work "vore." Like if two cannibals are having a sexually-charged dinner over a delicious homecooked meal that we know was once human, there is something kinky going on here, and the cannibalism—the knowledge of a life ended, the taboo, the horror—is part of that kinkiness; but if you ask how many people are engaged in this sexual encounter, the automatic answer is "two," the couple eating. Not "three." The meal isn't humanized. It's an edible sex toy, a prop. It's meat.

To my mind, "erotic cannibalism" isn't "vore" until the meal is a person. That doesn't just mean giving them dialogue; but treating them as a participant in the sexual encounter. Either the subject from whose perspective we are to view the encounter, or the object of desire on whom our erotic gaze is meant to linger.

Think of it this way: if you replace the human meat with beef, is it now just a story about eating steak? Then it's not vore. On the other hand, does it now inherently become a story about eating an anthro cow, because the "beef" had enough personhood that you can't consider it "just" a cow? That's vore.

Consuming a human(oid) body doesn't constitute vore, but rather consuming a human(oid) life. A consciousness—an identity—must be swallowed. If that's missing from the encounter (say, if someone is devoured but their personhood is ignored by the creator as irrelevant; or if parts of a person are consumed, but their seat of identity—their mind, their soul—remains undevoured), then to me it's not yet vore. It's "just" cannibalism.

And so—by my own understanding of vore—I've never written vore.

But like on the other hand I have written about a cannibal who gets off to biting off chunks of his lover's flesh because he fantasizes about consuming his still-beating heart to make his beloved a part of himself; so like, okay, sure, let's be real here, I've gotten close enough to count.

The fact that it doesn't "feel" like vore to me until a life (as opposed to mere flesh) has been swallowed doesn't mean that to other people what I've written won't hit the same buttons that vore hits for them—because the edges of any one person's sexuality are nothing if not nuanced and blobby and blurry and no two people's ideas of what gets them off (and thus no two people's ideas of what makes for a specific kink) will ever be exactly the same.

All of which is to say:

Yeah I was genuinely surprised when somebody said I got them into vore lmao, legitimately my first reaction was "how tf did I get somebody into a kink I myself don't have?" BUT the fact that I can "feel" a hard dividing line between "vore" and "horny cannibalism that isn't vore" doesn't mean that other people feel it's there. It's interesting and enlightening to hear that for somebody, there is no difference in what I wrote, and I did actually, genuinely introduce them to a kink I don't see myself as sharing. I think it's kinda neat.

(So, anon who wrote in, if you're still around: I hope my surprise didn't come across as derision! I was genuinely fascinated to hear that. And I do appreciate getting this random opportunity to talk about unusual kinks on main.)

Okay, lecture over, class dismissed. Y'all can go about your day.

[dumpstermaster]

1, 4, 6, 10, 11, 25, 30 🥰💋❤️‍🔥

1. what songs make you feel better?

anything from the oh hellos. their sound is comforting to me. their albums have a really nice destiny calls sorta vibe. waiting for death by candle kid is also a nice treat when looping my playlists. it's a good hype up song for quite literally anything for me. bonus: pocket by louie zhong and bdg is 👌🏽👌🏽👌🏽

4. what flower would you like to be given?

sunflowers 🌻🌻🌻 though I am not opposed to a bitty cactus. I know it's not a flower, technically, but i feel a lot more open to a succulent or a fern.

6. say three nice things about yourself (three physical and three non-physical)

I see that this is a ruse to get me to talk kindly to myself. Well I won't have it! /j

this is a seriously tough question, though.

i like that i actually look good in a dark collared shirt matched with suspenders and some kind of pants in either bright or muted colors. i like the fact that i am fat. i thank the universe everyday for my high spice tolerance.

I go out of my way to be kind, even when im tired. I'm a really good game master. i always try to go higher than whats expected of me.

10. what's something you're excited for?

I have a pathfinder game coming up at the start of november. I haven't played the system before, but from what I've read so far, I'm really excited to test things out. I'm also excited to get paid? I recently started working again a couple of weeks ago, and I'm getting paid a couple of weeks from now. And this is something a little more long term, but I'm excited to see my sweetheart when the time comes.

I'm starting to save up some dosh! hopefully I'll have enough to visit by the end of next year.

11. what's your ideal date?

Hehe. I see you, hon.

Mall date, hands down. I would like to spend an entire date at the mall. Going to a movie at the cinema in the mall, walking around, grabbing snacks and treats or popping by the food court to have lunch, going to the arcade, then going to the bookstore or game store or misc. knick knack store.

Even something as mundane as grocery shopping for some good dinner, tbh.

25. what's the best personal gift someone could give you?

time. just time to goof around or spend with each other.

for things that are purely material? some good lunch tbh. I love getting treated to food.

30. what reminds you of home?

getting back to me i see hehe.

You, my sweetheart. As cliche as it sounds, a home is where the heart is is a pretty solid saying. coming back to you after a very hard day makes me soft and gooey on the inside.

smells of home cooked meals too, and the rain. I miss the rain.

[sanctifisol]

𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐄 ,.., i bet on losing dogs

the volkihar name once slithered through the streets of zaun like a curse. garnering a reputation for any who opposed them to go missing without there being any ties or proof that they were involved. rumors spread as many noted that decades would pass and the family were just as youthful as when they first became a household name. vampires. everyone was certain of it, but never did they catch any member in the act. harkon, a once chembaron of the city for decades, hungered for greater things. for a higher calling. leaving many bodies in his wake to crawl from the depths of the streets into the laps of those who looked down upon them from their thrones in piltover, the family abandoned zaun. and there they claimed a manor of their own. there may have once been a different family that lived there, but no titles or memories serve who once was.

serana, his daughter, is being used as a chess piece by both harkon and his wife valerica in an attempt to secure a seat on the council. prior to the events of the first season, the clan has already established themselves in piltover for a few years. while the couple focused on learning where best to invest their money in order to grow more, serana has become the face, given a strict schedule of events to attend and people to get close to with the sole purpose of gaining the trust of important members of the city. keeping their true identities hidden as bloodthirsty creatures of the night. the volkihars were one of the family's to help continue investment in hextech.

as the seasons continue and especially into season 2, harkon begins making moves in order to secure a seat on the council in order to replace the seat of any one of the deceased members. serana, throughout, flits between spending time in the undercity during the day so that the sun can't reach her, and nights in piltover doing what her family asks. her views of the two city's conflicts are relatively neutral, with her only concern being that her family is safe and secure. she appreciates zaun's authenticity, missing the days when she didn't have to wear a mask to move through the world, but understands the bountiful opportunities piltover has to offer.

not to mention, the untainted meals.

[pascalmode]

In The Stars (8 - The Light and The Shadows)

Hiiii!! This chapter is my way of apologizing for the lack of Azriel in the last one. I hope you enjoy!!! (From this point forward things are going to move along veeeery quickly (i hope)). Please let me know what you think! (Also, if anyone wants to draw any scenes from this chapter or any other, i would nooooot be opposed;))

Az x TOG!OC

Words: 6.1K

Warnings; None, I think. Just Asteria being obsessed with Az. Elain is there at some point. idk

Despite taking three baths, each filled with luxuriously scented oils and soaps, Asteria can’t seem to shake the bitter, coppery scent of blood that clings to her. 

She’d scrubbed harshly at her skin, only to be twice as rigorous when washing her hair, attempting to free the long, delicate silver strands of the scent to no avail. 

It lingers. 

Halfway through dinner that night, the entire inner circle and Feyre’s sister Elain gathered around a table filled with beautifully smoked and seasoned meats, steamed vegetables slathered in spices, and roasted potatoes with garlic and butter, Azriel reappeared. 

It only took him a couple of seconds to sniff the air and lock a hard, unreadable gaze on Asteria while everyone else peppered him with greetings. One shadow subtly split away from the rest, darting underneath the table and skittering over her entire form, as though attempting to discover the source of the coppery scent.

Having found nothing, the shadow whirls around the length of Asteria’s still-damp braid before it returned to its master. 

Azriel had taken the vacant seat across from the silver haired female, hazel eyes flashing with a concern that Asteria picked up on immediately. Beneath the table, Asteria nudged his foot with her own, their gazes met, and she allowed herself to offer him a small smile, enough to tell him; I’m okay.

His shoulders relaxed, and when Cassian sent him a brotherly taunt, the Shadowsinger didn’t miss a beat when he tossed out a smart retort, the entire table chuckled at the interaction. 

Except for Elain Archeron. Whose stare remained on Asteria, a slight frown seemingly glued to her lips. 

After the meal, the group moved to the living room, lounging on the couches and sharing several bottles of wine.

Azriel, hovering towards a door that would lead out to the yard, catches Asteria’s eye, discreetly nodding towards the dusk-lit lawn that had become their nightly meeting place, a thick blanket in hand. 

With everyone’s attention focused on Mor and Rhysand as they delve into a charming story from their childhood, Asteria follows the Shadowsinger outside to the area beyond the training ring. 

As soon as they sit down, the cold causes a damp-haired Asteria to shiver. 

A blanket drapes around her shoulders, warm hands lingering for an extra moment before Azriel settles beside her. 

“Thank you,” Asteria mutters, her hands, which are wearing a new pair of gloves that Feyre had bought for her before they left Velaris, close the thick fabric of the blanket around her, thankful that the spymaster beside her made a habit of bringing one out each night, though it often went unused, “Are you cold?”

“Illyrian,” Azriel states, as through it’s an answer. Asteria arches a brow, as though silently reminding the male that she isn’t from this world, and he didn’t explain as thoroughly as she needs. The Shadowsinger lets out a deep chuckle, lips quirked in a small smile, “I was raised in the mountains. Cold doesn’t bother me.”

“Consider yourself lucky,” Asteria chimes, jealous although cold doesn’t usually get to her so easily. She moves past the weather around her, feeling content that her friend had returned from his assignment, like his presence had removed a weight that the female unknowingly had been holding onto her chest, “I’m glad you’re back.”

“You missed me, Asteria?”

Asteria huffs, unable to hold back her smile when she sees a glint of mischief glinting in the Shadowsinger’s eyes. She nudges him with her elbow, “I never said that.”

“It felt implied.”

“Your feelings may be deceiving you.”

Azriel’s mouth twists, as though holding back a grin, before it settles into an easy smirk, “I don’t think they are.”

“You don’t?”

“No,” Azriel says, his smirk fading as his eyes direct themselves to the darkening sky, the first of the stars beginning to peer brilliantly into the night, “Because I can admit that you smell like blood, and that scares me.”

“It scares you?”

“What happened?”

“They attempted a surprise attack,” Asteria admits, shadows surrounding them growing darker, thicker, “It didn’t work out for them.”

“How many?”

“Ten.”

“Did they survive?”

“No.”

“Do you know what they were after?”

Asteria tries to draw up the memories she’d seen when she plunged into the mind of one of her assailants, trying to recall the orders and succeeding, “I don’t know who sent them, but they had clear orders to kill me.”

Azriel’s brow furrows, and his face is suddenly stone.

Keeping her eyes on the male, she lifts a hand from the confines of the blanket and removes one of her gloves with her teeth, once again revealing the scarred flesh beneath. Pulling a pearl of magic up from her well of power, letting it rest between her fingers and offering it to Azriel.

The Shadowsinger eyes it with interest, the faint light from it illuminating the angles of his face enough that he appears so achingly beautiful that Asteria has to remind herself to take a full breath. 

He opens his palm, holding it out to Asteria with silent permission. 

Asteria lays the pearl into the center of Azriel’s skin, watching as the light glows beneath the surface, her palm pressing into his.

What had occurred earlier in the day plays out in both of their mind’s eye, and Asteria lets Azriel see it all. She lets him feel the joy of the pianoforte interrupted by the sudden shock of an arrow bursting through the window of Murry’s music shop, and the clear, determined rage that had followed her over the wall of Velaris and led to the death of ten strange males. 

She lets him see each and every memory she’d pulled from one of the assailants. She shows him the life she’d wandered through before his neck snapped, and that same life ended. Every detail. 

When it’s over, Azriel’s own scarred fingers had wrapped around Asteria’s, the warmth of him blooming all the way up her arm to the center of her chest. 

She meets his eyes, expecting to find nothing but horror from the bloodbath. Repulsion after seeing the things she’d done. The lack of mercy. 

Instead, he’d softened yet again. Fond eyes searching hers for an answer to a question he had yet to ask.

Swallowing, and trying to slow her own heart, Asteria gingerly pulls her hand back to the warmth of the blanket wrapped around her, though she feels colder than ever, “That’s everything I know.”

Azriel nods, expression unchanging, “It’s useful. I can call in some favours.”

“From your spies?” Asteria is unable from blurting.

“Maybe,” Azriel murmurs, “Maybe not.”

“Very secretive of you.”

“Spymaster, remember?”

“How could I possibly forget?”

Azriel lets out another chuckle, and Asteria lifts her head, eyes taking in the expansive beauty of the darkening night sky, bright white stars gleaming above them. A sight she truly believes she’ll never tire of. 

A beat of comfortable silence, quickly broken.

Azriel speaks so softly that she almost doesn’t hear him, “I’m glad you’re alright.”

“I feel more than alright,” Asteria breathes, smiling as she thinks of how the ivory keys of the pianoforte felt under her fingers.

As though he could tell exactly where her mind wandered, Azriel nudges the female softly with his elbow, “You played that pianoforte.”

The memory makes her beam, an uncontrollable grin breaking across her face, and when she turns to Azriel, her careful eyes pick out the way he marks it, whatever tension remaining in his shoulders melting away, “I did. I played the crap out of that pianoforte.”

“I wish I could have heard it.”

“I can show you, if you want,” Asteria offers, the eager magic inside her already stirring. 

The Illyrian beside her smiles, the mischief from before returning into his burning hazel gaze, “I like that idea.”

Asteria is about to offer him another bead of magic, but before she can, Azriel stands. 

She looks up at his tall, lean form in confusion, “What are you doing?”

“Standing. I thought that was obvious,” Azriel deadpans, “Perhaps you should ask me what I’m thinking about.”

“I’m not sure I want to know.”

“Please, humor me.”

Suspicious, yet tremendously curious, Asteria does, “What are you thinking about?”

“I’m thinking that we fly down to that music store, and you play the pianoforte for me,” The Shadowsinger explains, his wings twitching in anticipation. 

“The music store?” Asteria echoes, “The same one I was just attacked in?”

“You’ll be kept safe.”

“You seem sure of yourself,” Asteria says, “What if they send another attack?”

Azriel holds out his hand, offering it to the silver-haired female, “We deal with it.”

“This is a bad idea,” Asteria mutters as she takes Azriel’s hand, actions betraying her words as he pulls her to her feet, the blanket wrapped around her billowing in a chilled winter breeze. 

“Probably,” Azriel nods, “Though I can’t bring myself to care.”

Turning her gaze to where the property ends, a drop off of sudden darkness illuminated only by the stars above and the city lights below. 

Flying with Rhysand in broad daylight had been one thing, the High Lord taking half an hour to assure the female that it would be fine, but this– this is something else entirely. 

Asteria remembers what it felt like to fall through this sky, and through the skies of whatever distant realms she’d passed on the way here. She recalls how the dagger felt hilt-deep in her chest, and the frigid, icy fear that came with anticipating that her death would arrive sooner rather than later. 

The memory sends a shiver down her spine, and not realizing it, the female had taken up a death grip on the Shadowsinger’s hand. 

“Don’t drop me,” Asteria meekly get out. 

“I won’t.”

“No, seriously, I fell from the stars once already, and I have no intention of doing it again.”

“Asteria, look at me,” Azriel softly utters, waiting for the female’s green eyes to connect with his hazel ones. The moment they do, Azriel’s hand squeezes hers, and the building dread in her chest lessens itself, “Do you trust me?”

“Am I going to regret answering you?”

“Definitely.”

Asteria gulps, “Yes. I trust you.”

“Then I suggest you hang on.”

“What do you mea– AZRIEL!”

In an instant the Shadowsinger sweeps her up, blanket and all, his arms hooking beneath her legs and under her back, holding her tightly to his chest while powerful wings launch them straight up into the air, Asteria’s startled yelp drowned out by the wind rushing past her ears. 

Locking her arms as tightly she can muster around his neck, Asteria’s heart drops beneath the pit of her stomach when her eyes lock onto the earth hundreds of feet below them. 

And when Azriel suddenly tucks in his wings and dives, her heart plummets even further.

“Ohgodsohgodsohgodsohgods,” The silver-haired female fearfully squeaks out, instinctually squeezing her eyes closed and hiding her face in Azriel’s neck as they pick up speed, far too panicked for his calming night-chilled mist and cedar scent to slow her racing heart. 

Then, wings shooting out, they hit an updraft, the plummeting decent halting completely. The sound of wings flapping steadily fills the open air, and Azriel easily glides through the chilled night sky.

“You okay?” The Shadowsinger asks, a slight chuckle catching Asteria’s attention. 

She lifts her face from his skin, catching the way his cobalt siphons gleam brightly enough that she can see his face and the amused expression he wears. Asteria curses him in her mind, unable to bring herself to speak this high up.

Chuckling once again, Azriel lets them drift closer to the ever-welcoming ground, “If you think this is bad, then never fly with Cassian.”

Asteria nods, unable to keep herself from hiding her face in Azriel’s neck once more, feeling how the arms that are holding her seem to tighten in response, a silent and unrelenting reassurance that the male would not allow her to fall away from him. 

When they finally reach the street, Azriel lands on the cobblestones with confident, practiced ease that seems as natural as the breathes that leave his chest.

Her feet on the ground, Asteria heaves in a relieved breath, allowing herself to release the iron clasp grip she’d had around Azriel’s neck. 

The Shadowsinger keeps a hand on the female’s back, the warmth of it reassuring, strong, and steady as some of his shadows flood into the cracks of a now boarded up window. The same window that had completely shattered when an arrow meant for Asteria sprung through it earlier that day. 

By impulse, Asteria’s gaze flicks up to the wall the archer had been poised atop of. She can hear the thwang! Of the bowstring releasing, the roar of the arrow soaring towards her. She can feel the centuries old killing calm flood over her, the calm beating of her heart over roaring adrenaline. A death blow. At least, it would have been if she hadn’t snatched it out of midair. 

Now, in the dim light of night there’s nothing visible to her. No one besides the Shadowsinger. 

It’s safe, the Realm around her nothing but silent. 

A silence that’s laid to rest when Azriel uses his dagger, an elegant blade he’s revealed to her as Truth-Teller, to aid him in prying off a the boards covering the window.

As soon as they’re loose, the dark haired male rips the boards loose, gently setting them aside before stepping into the shop with a light-footed ease that must have come with his centuries-long career as the Spymaster of the Night Court. 

“This feels criminal,” Asteria whispers with a playful smile, taking Azriel’s hand when he offers it to her, helping her past a remnants of broken glass as he clears it away with his boots. She doesn’t need the help, she’s proven that much, but it’s the kind of gesture that makes her heart pound a bit harder in her chest. A gentleness she’d forgotten a long time ago. 

“That’s because it is.”

“Oh, good,” Asteria snorts, “I was starting to think breaking and entering was strictly an Erilean crime.”

Azriel looks at her over his shoulder wearing an amused smile so brightly delightful that it warms the entirety of Asteria’s being. 

The Shadowsinger was often unreadable, but when he smiled…

To say the sight is devastating would be the understatement of the century. 

Asteria can’t help the breath that leaves her, not even able to comprehend what he’d said to her, and in order to recover and hopefully avoid Azriel taking notice of the effect he has on her, she clears her throat and sets her focus on the very thing they’d come here for. 

The pianoforte. 

Settling onto the bench, Asteria smiles to herself, removing her gloves and running her hands over the smooth, polished wood that covers the ivory keys beneath. The greedy side of her wants to lift it and play until the joints in her fingers ache and she can’t sit up straight. But the rational part of her, the one that had been screaming for her to be cautious since she fell from the sky, speaks up.

“What if Murry hears?” Asteria finds herself asking, a nervous feeling suddenly gnawing at the pit of her gut. 

Azriel’s brow quirks up, and he moves to sit on the bench beside the silver-haired female, his massive form more apparent than ever on the small seat, “He won’t.”

“How do you know that?”

“He lives in an apartment across town, and he doesn’t have any security wards in place. He has no way of knowing we’re here,” Azriel explains, “We’re fine, Ria.” 

All the questions, all the caution in Asteria’s mind quiets. Any thought wondering how he knew where Murry lived after a single encounter dancing in the square, how she’s supposed to play for him without alerting anybody, or when Azriel had even checked for wards slips from her mind.

Maybe it’s the nickname, or how he looks down her with a gaze so soft that she could cry, but Asteria realizes two things at once. Two things that are so simple, but also so world shattering that for the second time in only a few moments, the female loses her breath once again. 

The first; She trusts Azriel, wholly and completely. 

And the second; for the first time in a long time, Asteria has found something, someone, who makes her happy. 

It’s the trading of secrets beneath a glorious night sky, and seeking him out in every room she walks into. It’s early morning training and a mischievous glint in hazel eyes before taking off in flight. It’s splitting a bottle of wine and shadows calming building panic. It’s freedom. It’s rediscovering music, and dancing in a square with strangers. It’s sneaking off into the dark to play a piano. 

It’s her reality. She could be happy here. In Prythian. She could be happy with Azriel in her life. With the court she’d fallen into. 

Her thoughts pulsing in her mind, Asteria doesn’t even realize she’d opened the piano’s cover until the fingers of one of her hands are pressing down on ivory, the chords she unconsciously chooses filling the air with a joyous sound. Bright and warm, like being bathed in sunlight. 

Catching herself, Asteria pauses, unable to keep from smiling, blinking away the happy tears that had snuck up on her.

Unfortunately, Azriel notices.

His arm curls around her back, and the silver-haired female allows herself to lean into the Shadowsinger, releasing a breathy chuckle when a shadow swirls around her fingertips.

“What’s wrong?” Azriel asks, frowning.

“Nothing,” Asteria says, beaming up at him and quickly wiping at her eyes, “Absolutely nothing. Anything you want to hear?”

The concern doesn’t leave Azriel’s gleaming Hazel eyes, but he does give her another mischievous smirk, “Do you know anything from this Realm?”

“No,” Asteria grins.

“Then play me something from yours.”

Humming in agreement, Asteria thinks for a second. It had been so long since she’d played that she doubts she’d even remember any of the pieces she’d written. 

But then, a memory slinks forward. 

It had been the day she’d showed up at Aelin’s warehouse apartment, much to Rowan and Aedion’s discontent, but Aelin didn’t mind. She’d been welcoming. She wanted Asteria’s raw, unrestrained power on their side. 

More than that, Aelin recognized Asteria’s name. 

Not as a part of the Cadre, not as a warrior, but as a composer. 

Asteria had dreamed up a composition that Aelin had been obsessed with, and the Heir of Terrasen wanted the piece written down. 

Asteria had obliged, and promised to one day play it for the blonde female, but she never got the chance before Maeve cast her out on that damned beach.

So, straightening her spine, Asteria closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and she starts to play. 

Last time, earlier that day, Asteria had been tentative, almost scared to press her fingers down onto the ivory. 

But here, now, whatever had held her back had been killed and left behind in the dust. 

The silver haired female plays with vigor, attacking the keys the same way she strikes with a sword; with the precision that only came with decades upon decades of practice and training. 

The melody thunders through the instrument, the music rising and swelling only to fade when Asteria commands it to, the highs and lows that make this piece so complex. 

It’s something she’d written so long ago, a gift to the male she once believed to be her mate, and for a while it was only his. That is, until he’d encouraged her to turn it into a symphony. 

Then, the piece had been played all over the continent, and then beyond. And Asteria’s name became associated with something other than Maeve, other than violence. 

Asteria Relridaar’s first act of defiance against the Queen she served. 

Focused, Asteria lets the passion pour from her, directly from her soul. Her entire body alight from the music in her mind, soul, and heart. Each press of the keys encourages the next, beckoning to her through the centuries of blood and pain and guiding her to a different path. To a new reality. 

The one she lives now. Free. Happy. 

Her soul, the deepest, most loveliest part of her, the one where her music comes from, shines. 

The piece comes to an eventual end, and when it does, Asteria slowly opens her eyes, lashes fluttering as she eases out of the trance the music had put her in, finding herself surrounded by light. 

All around her, small beads of magic, each one glowing like a small sun, hang in the air in every direction, some in front of her, some up high near the ceiling. 

In the soft glow that surrounds them, Asteria looks over to Azriel, finding his hazel eyes gleaming, seemingly glowing in the light of the magic, and a small crease between his brows, his mouth parted.

“You…” He trails off, voice a bit more hoarse than the last time she’d heard it, “You are magnificent.”

Heart thudding against her sternum, Asteria tries to catch her breath, his words igniting something deep within her soul that had been cold for so long that she’d forgotten about it completely.

She opens her mouth to speak, Azriel’s dark, mysterious beauty now completely overwhelming. 

So overwhelming, that when his gaze briefly darts to her lips, Asteria’s toes curl in her boots, and she finds her mind completely consumed by nothing but the scent of mist and cedar. 

Asteria lets herself shift closer to him, feeling Azriel’s hand that hadn’t left her back shift down to her hip, tugging her closer. 

He slowly inches down, hazel eyes carefully watching Asteria, as if expecting her to startle, or to bolt away faster than he’d be able to follow. 

But she can’t. She doesn’t even know how it would be possible for her to do anything else than melt into the solid male beside her. 

Azriel’s forehead rests against hers, warm breath fanning against her face while the knuckles of his other hand slowly graze the edge of her jaw, stirring up a warm, frenzied feeling in her stomach, like a swarm of butterflies taking flight for the first time in a century. 

Feeling her own hands trembling, Asteria peels them from the piano, tentatively running her hands up Azriel’s chest and feeling the way he sharply inhales at the touch. 

She leans up, letting her eyes flutter shut as their lips brush, just slightly, just enough for every nerve in Asteria’s body to ignite. 

A pleasant burn that only blazes hotter when Azriel’s hand slides into her hair, gently tilting her head back to a better angle, one that he needs.

Asteria knows she has no right to touch him, to crave him like the very air she breathes, and yet she finds herself doing both. And when he puts his mouth on hers, kissing her as though she’s something to treasure, she recognizes the taste of him, like he’d been made just for her.

Azriel’s lips are soft, and he tastes like mint and sugar; A taste that Asteria already knows she’ll never get enough of. An addiction that will never be fully satiated. 

Barely in control of her own body, her self-control long abandoned, Asteria’s hands travel upwards, her fingers sinking into Azriel’s thick, dark hair, the strands soft against her hands. 

Azriel lets out a low noise from the back of her throat, sending a tingle up Asteria’s spine. 

Slowly, as though it takes everything in him, Azriel eases away. A new flush of colour tinting his cheeks and the tops of his ears pink, and Asteria is absolutely certain her face mirrors his. 

Asteria tries to find something to say, only to find herself so giddy, so in disbelief over what they’d just done, that she can only manage a grin before she’s hiding her face against Azriel’s shoulder, hearing his low chuckle rumble through her bones. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” Asteria asks after a long beat, her voice rasping in her throat.

“Please.”

“Earlier, when you asked if I missed you while you were away…” Asteria says, pulling away from Azriel so she’s able to look at his face, “I-I did. Miss you, I mean.”

His eyes shine with something Asteria can’t place in the soft light around them, “I owe you a secret in return.”

“I guess you do.”

“I missed you too, Asteria.”

Asteria feels heat burn her cheeks, a result of their kiss, or his molten gaze threatening to make her melt right where she sits, she isn’t sure.

Just then, there’s movement in her peripheral vision, and with reflexes like an asp, Asteria whips her head towards it, only to find a wisp of shadow curled around one of the smaller beads of magic that surround them. The shadow doesn’t balk, or cower from the light, and the light doesn’t dissipate, or shred through the darkness. 

The shadow whips around it curiously, harmlessly. 

Like a dance. 

The sight makes both Azriel and Asteria chuckle, the sound drawing the shadows attention, making it dart to the female and excitedly whirl around her long silver braid, were it stays, seemingly unable to leave her. 

“We should probably go,” Asteria says, mentally trying to find any excuse to stay in the small music shop for a few moments longer.

Azriel looks down at her, a brow quirked, “We can’t.”

“We can’t?”

“No,” The Shadowsinger says, his wondrous smile gracing his lips yet again, “Not until you teach me that piece.”

Asteria can’t help but match the male’s expression, “We may be in for a long night then.”

“I sincerely hope so.” 

—-

The Shadowsinger and the Realm Reader return to the house of wind after hours pressed shoulder to shoulder on a piano bench, Asteria teaching Azriel the music of her heart, and him picking up on it immediately. 

She had been completely surprised by the Illyrian male’s talent. His long fingers struck the ivory keys of the pianoforte with a deft familiarity that pleased Asteria to no end, and made her soul sing a long forgotten hymn. 

They’d been surrounded by music, beams of light and whisps of shadow, while they stole moment after moment in what felt like their own reality. A space, a place in time that belongs only to them. To a few more stolen kisses in empty music shops. 

It’s all Asteria thinks about when Azriel lands in their late night meeting spot, her entire body tingling with anticipation and two simple questions;

Will he kiss her again? And will he take her to bed?

Feet meeting the earth, Asteria’s hands linger around Azriel’s neck, his warm palms coming to rest at her waist. 

But before anything can be said, a throat clears. 

The sound jolts both Asteria and Azriel, the pair of them stepping away from each other in an instant, turning to face the one that had alarmed them. 

Elain Archeron. 

“Asteria,” The doe-eyed female greets, a kind smile on her lips, “I’ve been waiting to speak to you.”

Suspicion seeps into Asteria’s most primal instinct, and she can’t keep her brow from raising, “About?”

“Az, if you could give us a moment,” Elain kindly requests. The female is in her dress from earlier in the evening, long sleeved and soft pink, a few floral embellishments along the skirt covered by a warm looking jacket, like she had actually been waiting outside for quite some time awaiting the other female’s return. 

The Shadowsinger nods, warm gaze connecting with Asteria’s for a long beat, a soft smile on his lips when he reaches for her hand, giving it a warm squeeze before he heads towards the house, nodding to Elain when he moves past her and inside. 

As soon as the door snicks shut behind him, Elain’s smile doesn’t drop, but something in her gaze becomes more serious– more severe. 

Asteria marks the shift, and crosses her arms across her chest, preparing herself for whatever the middle Archeron has to say. 

“Rhysand bought a piece of land by the River,” Elain begins, “A solstice gift for Feyre. A place for her to build them a home of her own design. It’s all quite lovely, really.”

Asteria’s eyes narrow, “I’m sure it is.”

“My sister, the High Lady, asked me if I’d like to plan out the estate’s garden.”

“That’s quite the honor.”

Elain’s head tilts thoughtfully, “It is, isn’t it? There is, however, an unfortunate issue.”

“Which would be?”

“I can’t bring myself to plan a garden for a land that’s rotting away.”

The warmth that had been alight within Asteria disappears completely, instead, dread runs up Asteria’s spine. She inhales deeply, fists clenching.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” Elain continues, “I don’t know much about you, just what Feyre has told me, which is that you are the only person with the magic capable of healing the realm. I’d hate to watch the land my sister’s Mate bought for her wither away because of a strange female’s irresponsibility.”

Asteria’s words are ice-cold when she speaks, “Believe me when I tell you, I take the well-being of your realm very seriously.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“If you did, I believe that your every free moment should be spent preventing the destruction of-”

“Stop talking,” Asteria suddenly grits out, Elain halting completely from the venom filled voice of the Realm Reader, “From what I understand, your immortality is new to you. Mine is not. I have spent three of your lifetimes learning the rules and laws of nature and magic in my own realm. I did not choose to be here, but I am. I do not have claim to any power, or magic, or trust from this realm. It’s complicated, but I’m trying. I’m learning. I’m doing what I can, so I do apologize if this magic that you don’t understand isn’t moving at a place that you’d like.”

Elain’s once kind smile deepens into a frown, large brown eyes boring at Asteria as the silver haired female takes a couple steps towards her, continuing, “This is beyond you, Elain. It may even be beyond me, but I swear to you that I’m trying.”

Standing within arms length, Asteria watches as Elain’s spine straightens, and she lifts her chin, a look Asteria recognizes immediately; It’s Elain drawing up her courage. Something Asteria can pick out so clearly, because she’s done it a million times herself. 

“What about Azriel?” Elain asks. 

Asteria’s brows furrow, “What about him?”

“He’s had a difficult life.”

“I know that.”

“I’m sure you think you do,” Elain snaps, something Asteria suspects is a rare thing for her, “He’s been through a lot, far too much to explain, and now, after the war, I think we can agree he’s deserving of something… Gentle.” 

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that you’re a jagged edge,” Elain states, “And not what he needs.”

A jagged edge.

The words hit Asteria like a punch to the gut, but she doesn’t show it. She refuses to. She doesn’t get fire back, because if she does, it would be hard to stop. 

She can’t imagine the Court would be so accepting of her if she slaughtered the High Lady’s sister exactly where she stands. 

Roping in her anger, and the rage slowly starting to burn inside her gut, Asteria takes a deep breath and starts tunneling rapidly into her well of power. 

“Hm,” Asteria hums, feeling her eye twitch before she meets Elain’s gaze. The Archeron female flinches at her stare, which Asteria takes as her own small victory, “Plan your garden, Elain.”

“What?”

“Plan your garden,” Asteria sneers, knowing exactly what she’s about to do while moving past the female and into the House of Wind, hearing the greetings of the inner circle, but not stopping to return them. 

Asteria moves through the house until she finds the staircase.

When she’d first woken up after her fall from the nigh sky, Rhysand had given her a tour of the house she’d be staying in, explaining that the two ways out of the estate were either by flight, or by ten thousand stairs.

With the rage building inside of her, and her focus spinning deeper and deeper into her own magic, ten thousand seems small. 

As she descends, Asteria mutters angrily to herself; harsh curse words and the middle Archeron sister’s name spilling out in the fleury of vexed rambling as she heads down, down, down. 

By the time she reaches the ground, Asteria’s legs burn like they did when she first started training as a child in Doranelle, her stomach flips uncomfortably, but she doesn’t care. Not when she hits the bottom of her well of power. 

Gritting her teeth, Asteria stalks towards the woods, pushing hard against the barrier of her own magic, trying to find what had been there before Prythian and finding nothing. 

She doesn’t stop trying, though. Walking deeper into the treeline she slams again and again into the bottom of the pit, trying to crack the ground, dive through it– anything. But coming up with nothing. 

Still, Asteria doesn’ falter. 

Finding herself surrounded by trees, the only sound around her being the clicks from insects and the occasional rustle of tree branches in the winter wind, Asteria sinks to her knees. 

Ripping her gloves off of her hands, the female sinks them into the earth.

Then, the Realm Reader rips her magic up from the bottom of the pit. She latches onto it with an iron grip, tearing it upwards and through her before plunging it into the Realm. 

Elain had been wrong, Asteria isn’t a just a jagged edge, she’s bloody knuckles and layers of scars. She’s more than that– She’s a blade. 

A blade that had been forged in fire, beaten again and again, and honed to perfection over the centuries. A fighter. A blademaster. The most powerful fae in all of Erilea. 

She knows it. It’s time this Realm learns it too. 

When the Realm’s voice comes through, no doubt to dismiss the female, Asteria silences it. 

She brings her magic down fiercely, and without mercy, feeling it spread out beneath her. The light burns, singing her hands as the Realm tries to reject it, but Asteria doesn’t care. She grits her teeth, pushing harder, faster– Relentless.

Feeling the surge of energy, Asteria shouts, feeling herself already beginning to tire, to burn out completely. 

So she keeps going. 

The light floods from her, deeper and deeper into the core of the Realm before whatever had been keeping her at bay, whatever had been resisting her, snaps completely. 

Screaming, Asteria watches a web of light beneath her dart out in every direction, disappearing further than she can see before a single beam of light shoots up from the earth and into her chest. 

Asteria is silenced by the bone shattering pain that explodes into her chest, the ache flowing upwards into her skull and past her mental shields as though they were made of a single thread. 

Her memories, the most painful ones, play out in her mind’s eye. She sees herself swearing her life to Maeve, to the bloodshed she’d carried out in the Queen’s name. She sees the moment she was handed over to Cairn in front of the entire court. 

It’s this moment, this excruciating sting, that Asteria knows what’s happening. 

Someone is in her head, walking through her life, just as she’s done to so many others. 

“No,” Asteria manages to grit out, reaching into her well of power for more magic, just a drop more, enough to stop this as reels of her own torture play out before her, “No!”

With a cry, Asteria whips out the last bead of her magic, the light making itself a blade and plunging into her own chest, severing the connection with a final burst of light that echoes out beyond the forest, shaking trees in its wake.

Gasping, Asteria falls face down into the singed grass, her ears ringing and limbs feeling like they’ve been filled with lead. Her heart beats erratically, and she’s barely able to draw breath into her lungs. 

At the edge of consciousness and something unfamiliar, Asteria thinks of her home. She thinks of Erilea. Of the forests and caverns she’d explored and the friends she’d once made. All the things she’d lost.

Before she fades, there’s a voice in her head that she doesn’t recognize. 

I understand now, it says, Where no High Lord or Lady would ever return, I will be waiting.   With the silence that follows, Asteria plunges into icy darkness.

-----

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

@bionic-donut @hollyismentallyillhelp @younxii @feyretopia @hideing @eat-cake @warzaines @brekkershadowsinger

Let me know what you think, and if you have any predictions about what happens next!:)

[joshuasearing]

Thursday 19th September 2024

Yesterday was not great. So work was awful and it all went on and was very stressful and I felt like a slave I wish that was an understatement. So basically all at one time about 4 different things happened. So this customer when I served him at the till wanted everything fresh, however I can not check he’s burgers because firstly I already have enough to do and second of all I’m not in the kitchen my job is at the front. Then when I started making up he’s order I touched he’s fries and it was hot enough in my opinion. But when I gave him the order, he was like can I get fresh fries but not in a nice way rudely. Also at this point I was already pissed of as the managers had been making me run parks constantly whilst they did fuck all. So I launched the fries he gave back in the bin in anger, and I didn’t even mean to do it it just came out of no where as I couldn’t hold it in anymore. Anyways a manager gave him fresh fries. Then he came in again complaining about the burger so I got him he’s new burger, then he was like where are my fries. Although at this point we gave him fresh fries already so he was just trying to get free ones and was being a right dickhead. Then whilst at this point he was shouting at one of are managers trying to say he was going to call head office. Anyways also we had a rude delivery driver speaking to the manager rudely. Also at the same time we also had someone refusing to park up and the police were having to be called, because they were refusing to park up and they threw there drink at the manager as the manager said we need the drink back if you are not going to park up for your food.

Then I was doing someone order which was a locator and once I finished it I walked up the stairs and as I was doing this I missed stepped and dropped there whole order, it ended up with me soaked in sprite I also hurt my knees and my hand whilst dropping all there food and drink and the tray. Then a customer very after I slipped came up the stairs asked if I was ok, and I was shaking and my adrenaline was all over the place. But I was honest and just told her it just added to the bad day already. After this someone I work with said they will help clean it up whilst I get it sorted, I just got a couple wet floor signs for them, then another person I work with got the customers food and drink remade. Whilst this was happening I went upstairs and got myself all tidied and dried off.

As the shift went on it got a little better, but near the end I was put on window one headset and window and I ended up stating overtime for about 15 minutes over as I was covering someone’s break on there and they took there time. After work I went straight home as I also felt very dizzy. Once I got home I didn’t really do much for the rest of the day. I did watch the 2nd half of the Tottenham game vs Coventry. Coventry made 1-0 to them vs us. But then at the end we made some changes and we ended pulling it back and winning 2-1 against Coventry.

Now for this morning I slept in a bit longer then I opposed to. But once I was up I got ready for the day, had some porridge, then went to the gym. Now for today I still feel really ill, like I feel really dizzy with a lack of energy. So this means my session was pretty shit if I am honest. I trained mainly legs then ended off with a 10 minute walk on the treadmill. After the gym I went to Tescos got myself a meal deal, then when I was at home I kept on checking my car, and this women asked if I was locked out of my car and I said no I just check it a lot. Then a few moment later as she was walking down the road I kept on seeing her turning around and staring at me. I honestly believe she thinks I was trying to steal the car or something. But no it’s just my ocd to its best and playing up. But she was judging me so hard.

Since being home I’ve had my meal deal, watched some YouTube, posted a couple tiktoks and also rang the doctors for an appointment a telephone one. As I have been told my levels are low. So I need to get that sorted.

Ok I will speak to you later, bye journal!

[thathusenfulhu]

if you miss moon cafe on a friday, here’s what you do

it's 4pm on a friday and man, i am absolutely mad with hunger. i woke up a couple of hours back, like any good dhivehi man, and lay in bed trying to figure out what i wanted to eat and where. because you see, my mother now lives all the way in phase two and i can't just pop in on a friday afternoon to get free grub. anyhow, it was already 3pm when i was done eliminating cuisines and individual dishes from my list. it was now clear that i wanted dhivehi keun. so i did as someone might – i settled for a maldivian rice bowl from rodchenko. it's the perfect sub for those who've missed the lunch buffet at moon cafe and still crave something dhivehi. to my dismay, i found out rodchenko did not open for an hour. so, i watched some russian propaganda clips on tiktok. putin. such an eloquent man. so knowledgeable, especially on his great adversary. i doubt biden knows or cares as much about russia. and now, at 4pm i call rodchenko and place my order. it will take forty minutes, they tell me. fine, i say. maybe i can watch putin speak for another half hour. the more i listen to putin, the more i am drawn to him. his charisma is apparent even on the phone's small screen. i listen to him criticise the west with great composure. of course, i don't agree with him on most points but he sounds incredibly persuasive. he sounds like someone you could get behind. finally, the time has come to head out to rodchenko so off i go. it is drizzling and so goddamned humid it almost seems like the air is giving me a big wet hug. rodchenko is quiet. dead quiet. i race upstairs and the place is empty but for me and a server who hurries to the kitchen. i take a seat in the booth, my back against a plump cushion. the dish is soon in front of me. it's an old favourite of mine, the maldivian bowl.

let me describe it briefly. there's rice half drowned in masfen, topped off with caramelised onions and sides of thelli faiy, sweet potato, and crowned with a dollop of rihaakuru. it's savoury, slightly sour, the coconut milk in the masfen adding some welcome sweetness while the chili turns on the heat. by all means, a decent substitute for moon cafe. i watch the rain patter on the large windows, thinking now of the prospects of nuclear war. the pro putin tiktok channel asserts the scientists involved the manhattan project revealed atomic secrets to the soviet union. why? putin says it's because these smart men understood that a single nuclear nation was far too dangerous and another opposing nuclear power was needed to restore balance. i finish my lunch and pay 115MVR at the counter. it costs 20MVR more now but still not too steep for a good dhivehi meal at this cafe with a russian's name. balance – i check mine on the phone. all is well.

[brooklynislandgirl]

Ron's affirmation is rewarded by one of her nose-crinkling smiles and a little fingertip-to-fingertip clap of enthusiasm. Childish? Perhaps. But it is genuine glee and all because he played along with her. Beth requires so very little to find happiness most days. Another thing that brings her joy is watching him procure their tea and snacks. The way his muscles shift beneath his shirt, the growing confidence as he feels like he's wading more familiar emotional waters. One thing Beth has learned is you can't force something if deep down you're not ready for it. They are not on a clock, lives do not depend on whether or not they eat pasta tonight or the next or the next after that. Maybe after three days they'll have to make a hard choice, but that's a three-day from now Ron and Beth problem. Now Ron and Beth just escaped the hook. Beth's attention is partially splintered toward the container holding the tea, the colours and pattern feeding an artistic streak in her soul and she thinks maybe she can get Ron to call in rich this weekend, stay in with her, and maybe paint. And if he can't bring himself not to attend his regular patrons, they could do so on his day off. She makes note of exactly how he prepares the pot so that she can reproduce it faithfully in the morning while she toasts bread and applies avocado, sea salt, and whatever else appeals in the morning. Toast isn't cooking, and doesn't come as a disaster. What might accidentally land in a bowl as opposed to a plate, and may or may not get snatched up by a dog, well…no harm, no foul. She misses the first couple words as she was entirely taken by the faeries of her Ron and plans for the weekend, and only raises her head in time to catch him saying he'd meal prep. "See, dat's really smart. Got all our mise-en-place, which Andy say means every kine in its place, an' dat actually cut out steps an' time f' da recipe." She nods in appreciation for this plan. "So yeah. T' my mind, is like surgery. Ya get all ya sterile instrumentation in place, get scrubbed up, go in ready. Very helpful." There's a delicate pause before she softly suggests, " 'F ja like, I could do most of da cutting, an' you can pack 'em into da prep-bowls. An' because ya so close t' my heart, I even letcha snag a bite now an' again. Promise dat it won' compromise da recipe." She doesn't want him to have to worry about that, on top of choosing to put it off. She follows Ron like heliotrope until he pulls out the chair for her and offers a softer, mostly closed-lip smile, the smoulder in her gaze gentled to something warm. She crosses toward him a few seconds later and at the end of his request, brushes a kiss against his jaw. "Mahalo, Kanuha." She settles lightly, still not taking her gaze off him. When he seats himself, she takes one of the Hobnobs and chews a few minuscule bites along the edges while the tea steeps. "How ya fancy stay in dis whole weekend…an' paint wi' me. You could live whole Bohemian life…. make pasta wi' me. Drink wine, mebbe scandalously out of da bottle…paint…dance…mebbe make love right dere in da parlour…"

"--Always wiv th'chocolate bits" Ron replied, his attention split between his dainty companion and the fixings for tea and biccies he was carefully removing from the cupboard. Her perking up did the trick in assuaging what lingering malice any unwanted, unseen but always heard third parties might've tossed his way at side-stepping cooking - at least for now. In these his scattier moments, when keeping track of newer processes was a trial that truly taxed, it was for the best. Better they postpone for a little minute than Ron try and force himself foreward beyond the bounds of his present capability. There only frustration lay, and with that would come a sour temper, snarling remarks that were unbecoming the affection he felt for his darling and that, bless her heart, she didn't deserve.

Down was bought in the ensuing minute or so a long-handled spoon and a cyclindrical metal tube that was patterened and coloured in a way that evoked the Middle East. Within lived Ron's preferred blend of the moment, kept double-fresh by the silver foil bag it was kept in. Three scoops from this were decanted into the waiting teapot - a glass number, this one, with a filter built into its lid; hardly traditional in its look, but Ron enjoyed watching the leaves dance inside while they brewed and it was with that in mind that he clicked the kettle on before wending his way over to the snack drawer in search of Beth's choice of biccie. They kept their stash well stocked, always. Days like this - where the simple beat out the complex - weren't uncommon enough for them not to. Commentary then-

"--Fink aftah-" After tea and biccies. "I'll…meal prep. Yeah? So i's ready f'when we wanna cook it." He fished a packet of Chocolate Digestives out the drawer and put them on the counter. Those ones had chocolate on one side, but not bits in. He went in again, just in case it was the Hobnobs Beth preferred. As he searched for them, a question escaped.

"--Fink y'd 'elp?"

She'd said before she was a dab hand with cutting and prepping activities of other sorts, had his darling, and while Ron could certainly manage on his own - scatty brain or not - it would be a more restive activity if he had someone to focus on; someone his brain could latch onto comfortably during a process it found otherwise hard work.

Out came a packet of Chocolate Hobnobs. It joined the Digestives on the side and Ron, attentive to the kettle having boiled in the interim, poured water into the glass teapot and pressed its lid down firm. Their mugs and the pot were then ferried to the kitchen table, the biccies following swiftly. Ron pulled Beth's chair out for her then, nodding welcomingly.

"Please" he said, a smile's ghost in his voice.

He was relieved that she'd understood his trouble.

[erina-leah]

Zoro x Reader: Bent, not Broken

AN: this fic was requested by @sanjibby ! I appreciate the request and hope you enjoy! Nothing like a good angst with some even better comfort 💚

CW: angst, breakup, argument, swearing, GN!reader

After nearly getting their asses handed to them by the marines, the Straw Hats were currently in a recovery period. It was always quiet during these post-battle days, too quiet for a ship like the Thousand Sunny. The ship was almost somber in its stillness and silence, and it always made you rather depressed.

Today was no exception. In fact, your sour mood was far worse than usual recovery periods. This time, your boyfriend was terribly injured, and it was your fault.

Zoro wasn’t the most loving boyfriend, and it didn’t take being a couples counselor to know. It wasn’t that he didn’t love you, he said himself that he cared about you more than anything. He just wasn’t the best as showing it in conventional ways. His way of saying “I love you” was inviting you to nap with him, keeping you company when you had night watch, and doing his best to protect you in battle.

It was the latter that caused problems, though. You may not have been the strongest member of the crew, but you didn’t consider yourself the weakest. It always bothered you how Zoro treated you like a fragile little thing during battle, but you knew it was his way of caring for you. Today was the last straw for you, though.

An enemy was about to deal you a fatal blow, and your knight in shining green armor took the hit instead. The problem was that it was a data blow you were more than ready to dodge. And yet you wonder boy threw himself in front of you anyway, leaving him bedridden for days with a large gash in his chest.

After the initial worry wore off, you were livid, and if you hadn’t been avoiding him like the plague, you would have given him a piece of your mind.

He had just been released by Chopper today, and he had spent the last couple of hours filling up on the food and sake he had missed. Noticing that you rarely visited him while he was in the med bay, he invited you to join him for a meal so you two could talk. You declined, using the excuse of being full already, and sat alone in the Crow’s Nest.

And that’s where you had been all day, just thinking. Your anger wasn’t overbearing, but it weighed on your mind. The fact that Zoro felt the need to jump in like that mid-battle, treating you like a child, didn’t sit well with you. You were tired of feeling like a burden towards the swordsman, that idea had been weighing on you for months by now. After the hours you spent thinking on all of this, you figured that something had to be done about it.

You heard the familiar creak of the hatch of the Crow’s Nest being opened, and you didn’t move from your position on your back in the middle of the floor.

Neither you nor Zoro said a word as the swordsman sat next to you and gazed down at your face. A worried expression was painted on his face. You weren’t surprised, hey may have been a little dense sometimes but he was able to tell that something was wrong.

“What’s your damage?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “We need to talk,” you said, a crack in your voice revealing the tears that were yet to be shed.

Now he was really worried. He shifted to sit in front of you as opposed to the side as you sat up to look him in the face. Taking a deep breath, you began. “Why did you do it?”

“Do what?” Zoro asked. “Save you? Because you—“

“No. You didn’t ‘save’ me. You got in the way. Why did you do that?!”

“Get in the way?” His eyebrows furrowed. “Is that how you see it? The hell are you talking about?”

You huffed in frustration. “How many times have I told you I can handle myself? That was a blow I could easily dodge, all you did was get hurt! What were you trying to prove? That I’m just helpless? Or that you’re an idiot?”

“The fuck are you calling me an idiot for?” Zoro shouted, his worry now completely replaced by anger. “I just did what my instincts told me, so what if you could have dodged?”

Hot, angry tears began to prick at your eyes, but you simply ignored them as you shouted in retaliation. “Why do your instincts think I’m weak, Zoro? Is that what you think of me? I’m not a fucking child!”

“Can I not protect what I care about without you bitching about it, then? Because that’s all I wanted to do, and you’re throwing a fit over it!”

“I’m just asking you to stop treating me like a burden! I’m fucking done.” Getting to your feet, you turn your back on him. “If no longer being something you care about is what it will take for you to stop these stupid stunts, then that’s fine by me!”

“Hey, what are you saying?!” Zoro’s tone softened a little as he jumped to his feet and moved to place a hand on your shoulder.

“It means we’re done!” you growled as you shoved him away. “You and me. We’re done. We need to break up.”

The swordsman shook his head, “No the fuck we’re not.”

“You can’t just say no, Zoro. I’m breaking up with you. I’m not gonna sit here and watch you get yourself killed because you wanna protect me. What about your goals? How are you gonna be the Greatest Swordsman if you’re dead? I care about you too damn much to let you throw that away!”

“I’m not gonna die just because I choose to save you a few times! Your my partner, why should I let you get hurt?”

“I can face the consequences of my battles just like you do, Roronoa Zoro! You just can’t accept it! And you aren’t immortal just because you have a high fucking pain tolerance! I’m not saying it again, we’re done!” You tried to walk out of the room as you wiped the tears that were now on your face. However, you didn’t get far before Zoro grabbed you by your shoulders and spun you around to face him.

“Don’t you dare walk out on me! We’re not done here!” When you looked into his eyes, you were surprised to see he shed tears of his own. He so rarely cried, just how much did you hurt him?

“How can you say you care about me and then just try to end things?” he ask with a shaking voice. “I… I think I understand what you’re trying to say, but why the hell do we need to break up over this? After everything we’ve been through, do you really want to walk away? Tell me right now, what do you want?”

You hesitated to answer for a moment as you stood still in his gentle yet firm grip on your shoulders. What did you want? That wasn’t even a question. You knew exactly what you wanted.

“I just… want us to both be okay. I don’t want to see you die, I don’t want to see you hurt. I want you to trust me like I trust you. I’ll do anything…”

“Even break up? Tch, you can be such an idiot.” You didn’t even try to argue with the insult as Zoro pulled you close to him, locking you in his warm embrace. The comfort of being in his arms again completely broke you down, and you fell into a fit of sniffles and shakes.

Zoro spoke as he stroked your hair, “I want all of those things too. We can work it out, I know we can. Let’s not jump to anything rash from now on, okay? Let’s just… talk. I hate talking sometimes, but I’ll talk to you about anything, alright?”

Feeling you nod against his chest, Zoro placed a gentle kiss on your head. “Good. Now isn’t this better then a breakup?”

“S-shuddup..”

[havitly]

— TRENDZ as boyfriends | hyung ver.

-> cw: none.

-> wc: 1.2k

-> a/n: this is just my opinion, and if you find any grammatical error or similar let me know, English is not my first language.

Havit

He is sentimental and just as he keeps his feelings present, he will do so with yours because he would not like to find out that you do not feel safe being with him in a relationship.

I feel that even though the PDA makes him nervous he is not opposed to small tokens of affection from you, but don't expect him to, if they are around the members this is even less likely as they would bother him with this.

Just as he is a food enthusiast, he would make sure that you eat well and in a balanced way, he would not like you to fall into some type of TCA and would help you take care of your diet only if you allow it.

He will let you wear his clothes, he knows that he looks cute in what he wears and if you both have a similar style he will encourage you to wear his clothes and if your height is smaller than his he will die of cuteness seeing you in such big clothes to you (no one would get it out of my head that he and YoonWoo have a thing for size kink).

He would take you on his outings where he visits different restaurants and I feel that at the end of each meal he will ask for your opinion so he can rate the dish they have eaten or if they ask for different dishes he will ask to try some of yours and he will give you his.

I think I'm not the only person who sees Havit and thinks that he would be the type to give away friendship bracelets, I feel that they would be pastel colors some would have his initial and he would be very excited to see you wear them since he is aware of how he looks because a lot of people point out to him how adorable he is so the fact that you have his initial on something he made for you can feel like his claim of ownership over you.

Never doubt that when you wake up you will have good morning messages because he gets up very early (he said this in a live for the Jinichannel Instagram account) regularly the message will be accompanied by a photo of him just getting up and with his hair messy doing it look much more attractive.

And I certainly see him being the type of boyfriend who gives you kisses on the cheek or the nose, if your height is below his height he will seek to take advantage of this by kissing the tip of your nose and will also laugh when you try to reach him to kiss him.

"Love you bunny"

Leon

He's shy at first, he's infp, so be patient with him until he gets used to your presence completely.

Have you seen that video where he sits on ra.L to tease him? Well the same awaits you if not more of that.

He'll make fun of anything he gets the chance to, if you're shorter than him he won't hesitate to take advantage of that, if he's wearing sleeveless shirts he'll flex his arm muscles to make you look nervous or catch you looking at him to continue bothering.

With Leon as a couple I feel that every date you go out you could not miss the photos, he likes that you take photos of him, but above all he likes being your photographer, he excuses himself by saying that your beauty needs to be admired and appreciated by anyone and him make sure of that.

I can also see dates in expensive and elegant places is the type that tells you “tonight I will take you to dinner so make yourself much more beautiful”, or I would take you somewhere where there is music and you can dance together, so Leon would look for to someone at his level in physical resistance to be able to share with him his hobbies and passion for dancing.

YES or YES he will turn your shopping trip into a couple activity, he will carry your bags, but he will also give you his opinion whenever you ask for it, shoes, clothes, bags or accessories he will always tell you what you could complement and add to it something extra to your style in exchange for this he expects you to do the same with him, since your opinion will always be welcome.

As nicknames I feel like he would stay pretty neutral, he will say things like “babe, sweetheart, kitten”.

Kisses on his temple or neck as he wraps his arms around your waist and then whispers how great you look in your ear.

"No matter how much time passes I still feel likethe first day I saw you"

YoonWoo

CONSTANT TEASING.

He is very tender and sweet, but like Leon he will make fun of you, much more if he pays you a compliment and manages to make you blush when that happens he becomes arrogant and starts talking to you condescendingly as if you were a little baby.

The PDA is everything to him. Give him anything, hugs, kisses, small caresses on the forearm or just hold his hand and he will appreciate it, it is a way in which he feels appreciated and loved by you.

Complementing the previous point, he is the type that cannot keep his hands away from your body, not in a sexual way, but instead seeks to keep you close, it is his love language and it is the way in which he expresses it for you, if he has problems with this just tell him because he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable.

The dates with him will be quiet, those in which they go out to the movies or just stay home to watch series or movies in the company of the other while they eat fried foods and drink soda.

I see it as the big spoon at bedtime, the feeling of wrapping his whole body around you and feeling that he is somehow protecting you in that position makes him feel bigger and stronger.

"Thank you for staying by my side when I'm not feeling well, you motivate me to keep going"

Hankook

Coffee shop dates, look at him and tell me I wouldn't take you to some coffee shop for tea.

He is also the cliché type, he likes to be attentive to you towards your needs, he would take you to picnics in the spring and amusement parks in the fall because only then could he scold you for forgetting your coat and he would wrap you in his, added to this in the park would win stuffed animals for you without caring about making a fool of herself or spending too much on the opportunities they give him.

I also think that dating Hankook means that he encourages you to do things you wouldn't normally do, he encourages you to get out of your comfort zone as long as you feel comfortable.

He is the protective type, he will always be aware of your needs, of course, he is quite subtle, since he does not want you to feel that he is obsessive, but he takes care of your physical and psychological health because he does not wants to see you bad.

Every time he can, he tries to take time out of his activities with the group to coincide with your free time and you can spend time together, even if that means that both of you are just cuddling on the sofa without saying anything or only going out to eat or have breakfast.

When Hankook introduces you to the members automatically Yechanie proclaims himself as the son of their relationship, expect messages not only from him but from ra.L and Eunil complaining about Hankook or that he gave them some scolding just for you to scold him.

he will send you flowers when you haven't seen each other for a long time and when you go out on dates he will bring small bouquets along with a stuffed animal. Usually, these dates become family outings with Yechan by her side.

"Hug me before Yechanie comes and stealsme your attention"

copyright 2022 © havitly all rights reserved do not copy or translate without my permission.

[heximagines]

I really like the idea of Severen having a huge crush on a girl that Homer turns actually. I think Homer would be so annoyed by it.

Oh dude yeah. He'd be big time mad if Severen started to show interest. Especially since he already lost Mae to Caleb. Let's just say Caleb's family never caught up with them for the sake of this yeah? Come on let's take a walk here.

Homer was at a train yard when he saw you. You heaved your duffle bag put of the freight first before expertly tucking and rolling out yourself. He watched in interest as you straightened yourself out and tossed your bag over your shoulder before darting off. He quickly followed.

He'd been keenly feeling the loss of Mae's attention and wasn't the most eager about Caleb officially joining the fold. So he figured he was due for a replacement. And from what he could tell you were well traveled and tough to be hopping trains. He knew the others would be pissed as the dust had just barely settled but he figured they could deal. Besides who would be out looking for you? You were already on the move.

Homer followed you as silently as possible but he noticed how your head kept whipping around to look. He wasn't sure if you were paranoid or if your instincts were just keen. Either way it was another point in favor of you coming with him. Finally he stepped out of the shadows. "Scuse me miss." You jumped and whirled around. "Can you help me? I'm trying to get on one of those trains." You straightened up and gave him a big grin, laughing. "What do you wanna do that for?"

Homer had fed you some bullshit story about trying to run away from home and he liked how you smiled and nodded as he spoke, not interrupting or talking down to him. "Listen man, I get it, and I'm not gonna tell you what to do. But I can't in good conscious put you on a freight without even a pack on you. You'll end up dead on the tracks before you know it." You reached your hand out for him to take, ready to offer him a walk home when suddenly he lunged forward and latched onto your throat.

Since that fateful night you'd been all caught up with the Hooker Clan. Sure enough they were steaming mad when Homer dragged you, dazed and half conscious but turned all the same, though the motel door. There wasn't anything they could do about it. A fact that had Homer real smug. And after you made your first kill they couldn't deny that you were one of them.

You were sat down at a small table still covered in blood as the others all smiled at you and welcomed you like it was the first time they were meeting you. "Did better than both Caleb and Mae," Homer had boasted much to the couple's annoyance. Severen who'd held you firmly at arms length since you arrived laughed and sat next to you, throwing an arm over your shoulder. "Ain't seen a good first kill like that since Jess turned Diamondback." You glanced over at her only to recieve a cheeky wink. Homer quickly put himself between you and Severen. "Hands to yourself shit licker!"

Severen hadn't really taken the time to admire you before that night, unsure of if you'd last. But once you'd proved yourself he found it hard to place his attention anywhere other than on you. With your interesting travel stories and a wild streak a mile wide he was pretty quickly smitten. Not to mention he found you real easy on the eyes.

Jesse was definitely the first to notice. The telltale sign being how he began to sit at your side as opposed to his own at any given opportunity. Even if you sat far across the room away from the others Severen would plant himself at your side and try to pull you into conversation. Usually by teasing you or insisting he has a story that can one up any you've told.

Diamondback quickly followed, noticing the way his eyes tracked your every movement. If you were all at a bar for the night his gaze would be latched onto you as you flirted with your meal. If you fell asleep before him he'd admire your sleeping face. If you were speaking he'd look directly in your eyes with such intensity it'd make most people look away. She had a hunch you might return Severen’s feelings when you never wavered from his eye contact.

And finally no one could ignore the way he constantly bided for your attention. Your name always came out of his mouth before whatever else he wanted to say. "Y/n, check out this idiot!" "Y/n, did I tell you abut the time-" "Hey Y/n, come look at this!" And the way he'd constantly pick up small things for you like cool botte caps you'd turn into pins, stickers and keychains he pocketed from the truck stop, any jewelry he thought you'd like off of his kill. All just for you to thank him with a little peck on the cheek. A habit of yours he particularly enjoyed.

Homer would be up and arms. Frequently telling Severen to back off, trying to embarrass him in front of you, or even weaseling his way in between the two of you on long drives or in the motel. You of course just thought he was being clingy since he's the one who turned you after all. Quickly you picked up a big sister sort of attitude towards Homer, something the rest of the clan could appreciate as it carved out a special niche for you. Severen is endlessly annoyed that any chance he has at alone time with you is thwarted despite his insistence that he has no romantic interest in you.

They argue constantly while you're not around. "She wouldn't go for you anyway! You're so ugly you could scare a buzzard offa pile of guts." "Not that I'm gunnin' but if I was I sure as hell would have a better chance than you, little man." Hearing your nickname for him out of Severen's mouth leaves Homer bristling. But the second you're back around Severen is pulling Homer in for a noogie and acting like everything is just fine, and funny enough Homer also tries to act like nothing was going on.

The others are endlessly amused by this dynamic and let it play out uninterrupted for a good few months. Life is long and they gotta get their kicks where they can. But eventually Mae is the first to step in. Sure Jesse and Diamondback made digs at Severen when you weren't around around just to ruffle his feathers but Mae was plotting.

"Hey Homer, why don't you come out with Caleb and I tonight?" Everyone is blown away by Mae's suggestion considering how the two of them would do anything for a few seconds of alone time. Homer's eyes darted between Mae and an absolutely unenthused Caleb. He quickly agreed and you shot them both a smile, glad to see him spend some time with Mae. Just before they were out the door though Homer looked back at you. You hadn't really hunted on your own yet. But you waved him off and told him not to worry about it.

As soon as they were gone Severen was just as quick to step in and ask if you wanted to hunt with him that night. Insisting that while you could handle yourself of course he wouldn't want you to get lonely. Severen watched as you regarded him with pursed lips, pretending you really had to think it over. Truth was you would jump at any given opportunity to get some alone time with him but you liked to make him sweat. "Sounds good. Let's head out now." You strode out of the motel with him hot on your heels. Diamondback slipped him a little nudge along the way that he tried to wave off.

He loved watching you feed, something about it just set him off. Maybe it was the way you'd gently brush your lips over your preys neck, sending sparks of jealousy though his system. Or maybe it was watching you tear into them with no hesitation. Possibly a combination of both. Either way his gaze would be laser focused on you. Watching the way your throat moved as you gulped down your meal. Sure he'd seen it before but not as closeup as this he realized.

You'd pull away all too soon when his eyes felt too intense, looking back at him. You grinned and he admired your bloodstained teeth. "What? Do I have something on my face?" He snorted and stepped forward his thumb smearing some if the blood from your lips. "Just a little." His hand lingered against your cheek and you took advantage of his pause to turn your head and suck the blood off of his thumb. His eyes just about bulged out of his head and you giggled, pulling back and wiping your mouth on the sleeve of your hoodie. "Gonna catch more flies than people if you keep your mouth open like that."

He grinned and ran a hand down his face. Yeah he was definitely into you.

[shit-posts-and-fanfictions]

General Creepypasta Headcanons - part 3

These are gonna be general headcanons of how I portray the characters.

If I missed anyone you'd like to see just drop a comment and I'll be sure to get to it in another Headcanon post.

Slenderman - I said it once I say it again, I see Slender working similar to the fair folk. His rules, habits, and understanding of things would be normal to him but strange to us. Especially if you take into account the Unseelie court. However, though, I don't think he is actually a faerie. I do think he is more like an X-dimensional demon. Completely timeless to us. He is infinitely old with no beginning and no end, simply existing in a time where ever he pleases to be.

With that in mind, not all the pastas are from the same timeline. Some he could have met years before and only known a few minutes and others he meets in the future and has already known them for decades. If time is like a river, he can hop up and down it with ease, never staying in one time too long or even existing in multiple at the same time. It would be why the people he takes and doesn't kill are never found. They no longer exist in our timeline. They could be centuries in the past or several years in the future and we would never know or have any ability to get to them.

Masky (Tim Wright) - (Creepypasta version) In this depiction, Masky and Hoodie aren't close or friends. They simply get along as co-workers. Masky is Slenders oldest pasta, and as mentioned previously, Masky comes from a different timeline than most pastas. Because of how often he travels through times; making Masky infinitely replaceable. Slender simply has to hop to one time frame or another and take a new version if one dies. Because of how often Masky is replaced with a copy of himself, his memory is all over the place- some may remember an event happening and other clones have not experienced it yet. Masky also hasn't been called 'Tim' for a very long time- depending on what clone you're talking to, it could've been a few years to a couple decades since he's heard the name. He practically lives on cigarettes and old gas station food. He can't recall if he's ever had a decent meal since becoming a proxy-

Because of his high standing with Slender, Masky can be narcissistic and go on power trips with new proxies and even other pastas if he can get away with it- If Slender feels things are getting too out of hand at an outpost, Masky is most likely to show up and put whoever is causing trouble back in their place. Masky also trains new proxies if he is readily available but puts them through severe amounts of hazing, bullying, and torture. A good amount of new proxies don't survive being under his mentorship- whether it be because he killed them, they died on a mission, or they took their own life.

Hoodie (Brian Thomas) - (Creepypasta version) Hoodie is second to Masky but spends most of his time as Slenderman's eyes. He fills in any blind spots Slender may have while running the outposts, and because of this, he has become an incredible spy. He could be in the same room as a group of people and not a single one would notice he was there. Like Masky, he is an easily replaceable proxy, but between the two he is less likely to get himself killed. Hoodie isn't opposed to being called Brian and has likely been called it by close comrades as a sign of affection in private instances.

Similar to Masky, Hoodie also trains new proxies if Masky isn't available or requested by Slender. Recruits have a higher chance of survival, but Masky considers them 'weaker' because of Hoodie's leniency. Hoodie was the one who trained Toby, so Masky's hatred for him is fueled by the view that he is 'weak'. He views his Tourettes as a liability to missions. Hoodie though could care less. Hoodie and Toby actually have a pretty good relationship- as good as one can be in their situation. Hoodie was a mentor and became a father figure that Toby didn't have growing up, and is one of the few people to refer to him as 'Brian' when it's just the two of them. Brian is very calm, quiet, and collected. The air around him is very still and Toby finds that comforting. If Brian is replaced, Toby is the first to fill him in on what is happening and any memories he may be missing.

Toby Rogers - Going off how he is portrayed in his story, I don't think Toby is nearly as energetic as people portray him. I do think he gets giddy and excited, but more to the extent of killing someone. I think he would find murder to be a sort of release of stress, pleasurable even. Now I don't see him as being bipolar, but he does have mood swings of sorts. Either high in energy one minute or mentally exhausted the next. He isn't nearly as overbearing either; his school and home life sucked, he wouldn't have the energy or confidence to be so loud.

I do see Toby having a sweet tooth- and not just towards waffles (seeing as he wouldn't really have the time to make any, much less an Eggo-). I headcanon that he has a fast metabolism, so he snacks a lot on especially sugary food to keep his energy up. He would probably constantly have a chocolate protein bar on him, along with candies like Mars bars, Twix, Heath, and Snickers being some of the snacks he'd have stuffed in a pocket or in a travel bag. He's not willing to share either- Has definitely bitten someone for trying to reach for his food.

Jeff the Killer - Jeff is a drunk, I feel like a lot of people have a varying agreement that Jeff drinks, but I see him being a full-on alcoholic. It's gotten to a point that he is a functioning alcoholic and reeks of booze so much so he may as well be bathing in it. He's incredibly bitter and by far more independent from the other Pasta's. I did mention some team together and others go alone, jeff is one to go alone. He has found security in some of the other Pasta's, occasionally crashing on their couch or doing favors for them in exchange for alcohol or food. But for the most part, he'll hide himself away in a safe space or even allow himself capture just so he can rest in the warmth of a psychiatric prison during especially rough winters. Without fail he always manages to escape.

On the subject of his relationship with Liu, there isn't one. There isn't remorse, or longing, or shame for what he had done to his brother. As far as Jeff is concerned, Liu is still dead. Any time the two come in contact with each other Jeff is convinced that the person in front of him is just a hallucination, nagging Liu and Sully on until the enviable fight that leaves the two bloody and on the brink of death. Similarly to Liu, Jeff hallucinates his parents; gruesome corpses in the corner of the room talking to him or antagonizing him. If he's mumbling to himself he's likely talking to them. It's best to just avoid him unless, like Ben, you know how to deal with his behavior.

BEN Drowned - Considering the age argument, I headcanon BEN having drowned when he was between 13 - 16 years of age. He is perpetually frozen in the body of his death but mentally he has matured greatly. BEN isn't much of a drinker, but will still down a few with Jeff just to humor him. Their relationship is interesting, to say the least- Jeff comes and goes as he pleases not giving much mind to BEN, while BEN always tries to find an opportunity to make jabs at the drunk. You'd think they were enemies based on how they treat each other, but BEN has gone after and tricked a few people who thought they could make the same snide remarks at the spirit's drunken friend. Jeff similarly has started fistfights in BEN's defense. They can defend themselves perfectly fine, but if one or the other isn't present for the Pasta's merciless hazing and bullying, they will defend each other.

BEN also isn't around that much- unless someone lets him out of his game, I think he spends a lot of time in some hibernating state when the game is closed or off. If the game cartridge isn't in the hands of a victim, another pasta that BEN trusts carries it around and drops it off where ever someone else will find it. BEN can sometimes get lost to the pastas for months or even years before turning up, getting passed around between victims before coming up on the radar again. When he is back in an Outpost, he does like to take time to check up on his sister, Sally. He doesn't always reveal himself completely to her- and she doesn't know or realize that the other ghost is her older brother. He would rather keep it that way. As far as Sally is concerned 'Ben' is still alive and living his best life. BEN isn't the same person anymore and he wants to protect her from that.

Sally - After killing her uncle, Sally doesn't have much reason to leave the outposts. Depending on her energy, she tends to fade in and out of our world. She can't always hold a physical form in our realm and every so often has to rest amongst the realm of the dead before coming back. For the most part, she'll be in the outposts with the other children or she can be found wandering the place of her death. Something ties her to the area and as much as she tries to stay away she always finds herself wandering back. Almost looking for something. It's in instances when she's away from the outposts that she has a reason to kill, seeing if she comes across people, and may catch one in an unfortunate situation, she will lose herself red with rage and snap back to reality once the assaulter is dead. There have been few cases and reports of women being saved from assault because of the little ghost, and so because of this Sally isn't as heavily feared-

It's also safe to consider that Sally is a little girl. I'm not adamant about one age or another, but she is 100% between 6-8 years old. Mentally she has matured by a couple years with a slight childish innocence, but for the most part, she is still just a child. Eventually, she'll age like Claudia(IWAV), and have outbursts because she is the spirit of a child with the intelligence of a woman. Her humanity will slip from her in a few hundred years and she won't remember who she was or why she keeps wondering about the place of her death. She'll be hollow then, but until that happens, BEN and other caring pastas will enjoy the time they have with her while her humanity is still fresh and intact. Whether that be tea parties- drawing on the old floors of a cabin with half-dead markers- or overall just distracting her from the current state of her being.

Eyeless Jack - Jack is another pasta that tends to be by himself. In fact, he's almost always by himself. Most pastas don't even know he exists- some have caught glimpses of him from time to time, but he's practically a passing story of a creature that even the pastas themselves aren't sure if it exists or not. My representation of EJ is by far more demonic/animalistic. He doesn't speak unless absolutely necessary, and even then he would rather stay silent. His body is also more deformed and altered since the sacrifice- The alterations are based on the demon I headcanon Jack to have been sacrificed to.

Átahsaia is a cannibalistic demon of Zuni mythology, with skin so thick and calloused his knuckles appear horned, talons and tusks, hair like quills, scales littering his back, and is even described being as large as an elk. I headcanon that the point of the sacrifice was for the cultists to inherit these features and abilities of Átahsaia (which is why they would've eaten Jack) but the ritual went horribly wrong and instead cursed Jack into a monstrous form with an insatiable taste for human flesh. His humanity has long since left him and he's incredibly bitter for it. He had tried fighting the curse put upon him, but he could only fight so long before his demonic nature took over. He can be found in abandoned caves, hoarding little knickknacks that remind him of his humanity like a dragon hoards a pile of gold.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | Liu Headcanons | Toby Headcanons

[raibebe]

Love shot

Genre: Tooth rotting fluff Words: 8.590 Prompt: Hockey Player Jeno feat. best friend Jaemin, love letters? Warnings: none..?

A/N: This was written for @woahhwa​ for the @kafenetwork​ kafeholidays event! Hi Ru! I had so much fun talking to you when tumblr wasn’t eating my asks! I hope you liked this and it incorporates some of the things you said you liked. Also. Warning: I know absolutely nothing about hockey so please bear with me :] As always thank you to @burtonized​ for always listening to my rambles and telling me that my writing doesn’t suck. Also literally no one asked for me to put Johnny into this but I am a simple woman and miss him and his gorgeous hair. I am sorry for this horrible title...

The red numbers on the clock over the rink slowly counted down, the last minute of the game beginning. You had your hands tightly clutched together, sitting on the edge of the seat as you watched your home team in the orange and blue tricots trying to defend the last push of the opposing team. Mark Lee - on the defense - body checked the opposing wing player, who had been pushing forward, hardly into the banister, causing him to lose the puck. Quick on his feet like always, Ten snatched it from him and took a sharp turn to avoid the second wing player, using his smaller size to his advantage so he could push forward into the last third before the huge defender of the opposing team tackled him harshly. But like the genius player he was, Donghyuck had anticipated it, screaming Ten’s name at the top of his lungs so the elder had the time to pass the puck on to his wingplayer. Using his momentum from following Ten, Donghyuk pulled both of the opposing defenders towards him, leaving the star player of the team - Lee Jeno - free right in front of the goalie. A huge mistake. With a mischievous grin on his lips, Donghyuck waited until the very last second to pass the puck straight to Jeno who didn’t hesitate even for a second to take his shot: Hitting the puck with all his strength, he sent the rubber flying right past the goalie’s body, slamming into the net of the goal.

The crowd around you erupted in loud screams and cheers, everyone jumping up from their seats and celebrating the last minute goal as the red timer on the scoreboard ticked down to zero, the loud noise of a horn mixing with the cheers of the students. In the middle of all of this you were hugging your best friend, screaming loudly before turning back to look into the rink where the other boys had buried Lee Jeno beneath them, hockey sticks scattered around them. The other team had already angrily left the rink, collecting their stuff to make their way to the locker rooms when the boys finally let off and let their MVP breathe. Grinning broadly they took their helmets off one by one, shaking out their matted hair and just like after every game, the sight of Jeno’s midnight blue messy hair took your breath away. Once you could muster up the courage to talk to him, you wanted to ask if he had dyed it to match the color of their blue and orange jerseys. But even though you went to every single one of their home games and sometimes even went down to the rink to congratulate them, you had yet to speak more than three words with their handsome center forward player with the 23 on his back.

“Let’s go down to congratulate them, this was insane,” Jaemin said before already pulling you down the stairs against the tide of people that were already leaving. A couple of the player’s friends had already gathered at the rink, cheering them on and clapping them on their padded shoulders. You could make out the University’s heartthrob Johnny Suh - a volleyball player himself - fondly petting his best friend’s head which made Ten smile brighter than the harsh lights that illuminated the ice. A group of other boys from your year that you knew from a couple of your courses had rounded Donghyuck and Mark and looked like they were currently mocking the elder for his misplay that had led to the early goal of the opposing team, leaving their goalkeeper Yangyang almost no time to react. With a loud thud Jeno joined the circle, clinging to Mark’s back who cried out in pain from how hard the impact had been. The newest addition to the team, a tall freshman with the number 27 on his back, awkwardly shuffled on the ice before the team captain - Sicheng - pulled him over to where they were celebrating.

“Yooooo, boys this was sick!” Jaemin called out when he jumped down the last couple of steps before joining his friends who had stopped mocking Mark for a little while. But that wouldn’t be for long and you knew it. You had been their fan for quite some time now and knew that Donghyuck would not let Mark live and would bother him about it for a long time. “Watch your back, stupid,” you mumbled after your best friend who had been part of the team last year but had to quit playing for an undefined amount of time due to some issues with his back. He was the one who had originally gotten you into this sport which had led to your crush on Lee Jeno. So basically Na Jaemin was the reason you had the worst everlasting crush on a boy you barely knew and were way too shy to talk to even if he shared a ridiculous number of classes with you this year. But to Lee Jeno you must just be Jaemin’s weird friend he still knew from his childhood.

Slowly you approached the circle of boys, trying to hide as much of your face as possible in the bright orange scarf you had wrapped around your neck to shield yourself from the cold of the stadium. Jaemin was already retelling the highlights of the game in rapid-fire double time rapping speed, gesturing broadly and making the players laugh. “If you were to commentate the games they would probably be twice as fun to watch,” you spoke your mind when your best friend had to take a deep breath, making all of them stare at you which promptly lead to blood to rush to your face. “Yoooo, that would be such a good idea,” Mark broke the silence, his eyes wide, “Since you know all the rules and stuff.” “Also I wouldn’t be biased at all,” Jaemin just rolled his eyes. “Yeah, he can’t just trash talk the other team during the whole game,” Sicheng threw in. “But it would be fun,” Yangyang mused. He had finally managed to get all of his extra protective gear off, his dark hair hanging into his eyes. “You should try it, Jaem,” Jeno also agreed. “I’d rather join you on the ice, you know,” your best friend mumbled, shooting the rink a longing gaze. “You’ll be back with us in no time once your back is healed,” Sicheng smiled, patting him on the shoulder with his still gloved hand, “Just give me a call and I’ll unlock the rink for you to make a couple of rounds.” “What am I, a short track athlete?” Jaemin grumbled but nodded his head anyways. He had been an amazing sprinter until he had exchanged the goggles and tight suits for heavy padding and a stick some time in high school.

“What’s this gloomy atmosphere? We won guys!” Ten shouted over from where he had been talking to Johnny and some other upperclassman, “Let’s get out of these uniforms and have some food to celebrate, Sicheng is paying.” “I am what?” The team captain protested but his complaints were lost in the cheers of the younger members of the team who quickly scrambled to get to the lockers to shower and change, their stomachs always bottomless holes after an intense game. “Let’s go home then,” Jaemin suggested, raking a hand through his caramel hair. You could tell he was still sad about not being able to be with his boys but he made an effort to hide his inner struggle. “Jaem!” A voice called you back when you turned to climb up the stairs and Lee Jeno skidded effortlessly over the ice to roughly collide with the side of the rink again. “You know you can join us, right?” A smile spread over your friend’s lips but he shook his head. “I can’t leave this one all to herself.” “The more the merrier,” Jeno just answered, looking you straight in the eye which lead to your heart missing a beat or two. He was covered in sweat and his hair was matted to his head, he should not have looked this attractive to you with his stupid half-moon eye smile and mole beneath his right eye. “I- I don’t want to mess up your all-boys time,” you tried to politely decline, scolding yourself for stuttering like this. You did not need to make an even bigger fool out of yourself. “It’s fine, really. Mark’s girlfriend is probably going to join us as well,” Jeno reassured you, “I’ll see you two outside!” He quickly added before crossing the rink again to disappear into the lockers, not leaving you two any more chance to decline.

“We’re not going to say no to a free meal, are we?” Jaemin grinned. “Wipe that grin off your face Nana,” you grumbled, scolding yourself for going for comfortable and warm clothes instead of pretty ones. What would Jeno think of you in your oversized blue hoodie and orange scarf? “Stop stressing, I can hear you thinking,” your friend whined, pulling you out of the by now empty stadium. “I look like a potato.” “No you don’t. You look fine. Jeno is not into the whole dolled up thing anyways.”  Slapping his arm hard, you looked around if any of the players had already changed and overheard his comment. “You better keep your mouth shut, Na Jaemin or may god have mercy over you,” you hissed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he innocently blinked his eyes at you. “Na Jaemin, I swear to god. If you make me look like a fool in front of my crush that I should have never admitted to you, I WILL make you regret it.” “You don’t need me to make a fool out of yourself,” your best friend laughed, just barely dodging the punches you threw at him.

“Please be nice,” you whispered when the boys came out from the locker after a couple of minutes, their hair still damp from the shower they must have taken, their bags slung over their shoulders. Pictures of what a certain forward player must look like beneath his heavy padding and jersey flooded your mind for a second and you had to fight the heat that threatened to creep up on your cheeks. Mark’s girlfriend who had arrived a couple of minutes earlier and who you two had already told about the game, raced to fling herself into her boyfriend’s arms, giggling loudly when he almost toppled over from being thrown off balance. Somehow that image tugged at your heart and you wished that one day when you were finally not too shy to talk to Jeno, this could be the two of you.

Dinner was filled with a lot of loud laughter and just mildly annoyed waiters at the restaurant that had the best hot pot in town or so Sicheng claimed. But you really couldn’t even blame the poor waitress that had to deal with the hyped up hockey players. You mostly kept quiet, listening to their bickering and their stories. Donghyuck only retold how Mark had messed up in today’s game about three more times until he earned himself a rather hard slap to the back of his head from both Mark and Jeno. During the whole time you tried to steal secret glances at the forward player, admiring how fluffy his hair got after it had dried and how his glasses would fog up from the heat of the food until he took them off with an adorable but also really annoyed huff, stuffing them into the pocket of his neon green hoodie that should have looked ridiculous but he could pull it off. At this point you thought that he would look good in a plastic bag. God you really had it bad for him.

“Alright children, it’s bed time,” Ten exclaimed after everyone’s bellies were full, clapping his hands, “We should leave quickly so Sicheng can pay for the meal.” The team captain just sighed and leaned back in his seat while the others quickly shuffled around to sort out their bags and their jackets to hurry out of the restaurant, muttering words of thanks to Sicheng. You felt bad for him and lingered behind for a little before pressing a note into his hands that he declined with a little smile. “It’s fine,” he shook his head, handing the money back, “One mouth more or less doesn’t matter.” “Thank you for the meal, Sicheng,” you smiled. “Thank you for your support, you’re at every of our games, aren’t you?” Flustered you followed him to the register where a woman took his card to pay for the meal. “I try to make it. Jaemin doesn’t like going alone when he’s not allowed to play and I really enjoy watching you guys play. Your freshman really did so well.” “Sungchan is really talented,” Sicheng nodded, “He is such a great assent to the team and he compliments Jeno well. He’ll give Jaemin a run for his money when he comes back.” Smiling, you nodded. “I hope he’ll recover fast, he really misses you guys.” Taking his card back, Sicheng grimaced at the receipt. “We all miss him.”

Stepping outside in the cold, you were glad you had brought your thick jacket, your breath came out in little white clouds and Jaemin’s nose was already red. “I thought you’d never come back out, I am freezing over here,” he complained. Rolling your eyes at your roommate, you quickly said goodbye to Sicheng who once again told Jaemin to give him a call if he wanted to use the rink to skate for a while. On the way over to your apartment a little off of campus, you both kept quiet, each lost in your own thoughts. Even through your thick layers of clothing, the cold began seeping into your bones and you buried your hands deep into the pockets of your jacket. But instead of the soft material of the inside of the pockets, your right hand came into contact with a neatly folded piece of paper. Confused you pulled it from your jacket and unfolded it. You didn’t remember stuffing that in there. In neat handwriting, a single sentence was written:

You look so pretty in blue.

What? You were so perplexed, you halted in your steps, staring at the piece of paper as if it would tell you what in the world was going on or how it had ended up in your pocket. Had one of the boys snuck the note into you jacket when they all had left before you and Sicheng? But why would any of them do that? What if... What if it had been Jeno? No, that couldn’t be. He was way out of your league and most definitely confident enough to tell you in person if he liked the honestly very much not special or pretty blue hoodie. “Hello? Earth to best friend?” Jaemin’s voice ripped you from your thoughts. He was standing a couple of steps in front of you, a questioning look on his features. “Did you just remember you left the stove on or something?” “N... No,” you muttered, shaking your head before shoving the note back into your pocket, catching up to Jaemin.

What you didn’t know was that would not be the last weird note you would find. The next one didn’t take long. You found it stuffed in your bag between your books on your second class of the day. Trying to not catch your friend’s attention so you wouldn’t have to explain the note, you carefully and secretly unfolded it to read the neatly written sentence.

You look great today, have a great start into the new week! Fighting!

Not unlike last time, you wondered who could have dropped the note into your bag. And when? Looking around the class you were currently in, your eyes caught on Lee Jeno’s midnight blue hair just a couple of seats in front of you. Had he been in your previous class as well? You couldn’t remember. But even if he had been, it was just wishful thinking that he had been the one to write the note. It was most likely a cruel joke someone was playing on you. Sighing you crumbled the piece of paper and focused back to what your professor was saying, trying to concentrate on taking notes instead of daydreaming while staring holes into Lee Jeno’s head like you had done way too often in this class. You weren’t very successful and when Jeno answered a question the professor had thrown at the class flawlessly, earning himself a couple of back pats from his friends that were seated around him, you couldn’t help but sigh. God, why did he have to be both smart and incredibly handsome? And on top of that a very talented hockey player.

A slap from your friend to your shoulder brought you back from your daydream to find the professor staring at you intensely. Shit. What had he asked? “Alright miss, I’d like a word with you after class. Now who can answer my question instead?” He spoke and you just wanted to ground to swallow you whole.

For the rest of the class you were just imagining all the worst case scenarios in your head of what the strict professor would scold you about. Would he make you do extra work for the class? Give you a bad grade all together? Or just humiliate you further? “Alright class, that will be it for today, you’re dismissed. Don’t forget to do the reading for next week and hand in your assignments on time,” the professor dismissed the class, immediately finding your eyes to nod his head sharply to indicate he hadn’t forget about you zoning out.

Discouraged after the scolding you had gotten from your professor about dozing off in his classes, you climbed the stairs to your seat to pack your stuff to go hide in your room until everyone would have forgotten how embarrassing the whole situation had been, especially Lee Jeno and his friends. But yet again another note was placed right on top of your notebook, seemingly written in a haste and carelessly ripped out of its original page.

Don’t take it to heart, it could have happened to anyone. Cheer up!

Okay maybe the someone who was writing you these notes actually wasn’t playing jokes on you and actually cared about you. You’d be lying if the few words hadn’t made you feel any better.

Over the next few weeks you found more and more notes. Some longer than others, some just a few hastily written words. Some were just a quick cheer up to help you get through a long day of class, some compliments about your outfit or your hair and some even little stories about the day of your admirer. Somehow you felt like you got to know him a little through his little messages. You even dared to say you looked forward to finding more and more notes.

One time your secret admirer even left you a coffee on your table at the library when you had gotten up from your seat to get more books to look up some information for the essay you were trying to finish. When you got back to your seat, you looked around quickly to see if the admirer was still around. But you only saw more students perched over books or their laptops, typing away. Just when you were about to get back to your own project, a white hoodie caught your eye between the dull lighting and brown colors of the library. Below a mop of blue hair, Lee Jeno shortly smiled at you from behind his glasses, toasting towards you with his own cup of coffee and you couldn’t help but notice that it was from the same shop the steaming cup in front of you was from. Picking it up, you toasted back and took a small sip to not completely burn your tongue before examining the cup which just said your name with a little heart on it. It could have been just a coincidence that Jeno chose to get coffee from the same place your admirer had. The shop was just a few meters from the library after all but the way Jeno had smiled at you, not his usual bright smile but something maybe a little more shy, made you believe it could actually have been him and you really hoped that he actually was.

But today you hadn’t found a single note from your admirer and for some reason that was really bothering you. He had managed to sneak you at least a little note every day for a while now. And you still hadn’t figured out how he did it. Or when. You didn’t leave your bag or jackets unattended for long periods of time and it seriously baffled by how sneaky he must be.

“Stop staring holes into the air and get back to work,” your coworker Yuta scolded you, clapping a hand on your back on his way past you. “I’m sorry, I was lost in my head,” you apologized but he just shrugged his shoulders as he collected the mugs a group of students had left behind. “Exams?” He asked as he came back, putting the mugs into the sink. “Something like that,” you lied. You really didn’t know the upperclassman well enough to vent to him about how someone you didn’t even knew who they were send you secret messages and somehow they hadn’t done it today yet. Before Yuta could ask any further questions, the bell on the door jingled happily, announcing the arrival of a new set of customers. “I’ll go, bring those to the back,” your coworker instructed you. Sighing, you bunched up your sleeves to stack up all the dishes that had been piling up in the front during the time Yuta and you had been too busy with orders to put them in the big dishwasher in the kitchen.

With a couple of freshly washed cups and plates you emerged back into the main room to see Yuta flirting with the group of girls that had just come in to probably order some way too overpriced season special with more sugar than actual coffee in it. Of course only after they had been completely charmed by the objectively speaking very pretty foreigner with a silver tongue. Rolling your eyes at the group, you instead made your way to where the customers were sitting to check if anyone new had come in while you were in the back. After most classes were over for the day, the cozy café usually filled up with students pretty fast; either to relax for a little before going to the library or to discuss group projects.

Today was no different and you easily spotted a group of boys from one of your courses squished together in one of the booths, your best friend smiling brightly at you when he saw you approach. “My favorite waitress is working,” he spoke, awkwardly hugging your waist from his sitting position. “You just want my employee discount,” you fondly rolled your eyes at a now pouting Jaemin, “So what can I get you.” You quickly collected all the boy’s orders including Jaemin’s horrendous deathpresso. “Oh, add another iced Americano, someone is still missing,” Donghyuck called after you when you had confirmed their orders, a knowing smirk on his lips. Quickly scribbling another one on your little notepad, you didn’t look where you were going and suddenly collided with a very solid chest and you were pretty sure you would have fallen if it was not for the customer’s quick reflexes. So instead of on the floor, you found yourself pressed against his chest, his perfume clouding your senses. “Careful where you’re going,” he said and you could already tell that your eyes would meet ones with the color of molten amber, hidden behind a cute pair of round glasses, before you even looked up to see Lee Jeno’s smile. “You... You too,” you stuttered, feeling your face heat up, quickly scrambling back a step. “Are you alright?” He asked, looking you up and down once. “Yeah, I was just taking your orders, I’ll be right back,” you tried to smile while trying to tell your heart to stop beating like you had just ran a marathon. “I’ll help you carry, we’re quite a few people.” “No, it’s fine really,” you quickly declined, “This is my job after all. “I feel bad for running into you though, let me help,” Jeno insisted, a slight pout on his lips that you really could not resist. When you ended up nodding, his whole face lit up with his famous eye smile and your insides might have just melted a little. While he was quickly putting his bag down and greeting his friends, you busied yourself with the orders. Yuta was still no help whatsoever, telling one of the girls an obnoxious story of how he had ended up at a university in Korea. You barely held back your laugh when the girls gasped, their eyes glued to Yuta. The story might have been impressive to you if you hadn’t heard it about 30 times already, always a little different but always pretty far from the actual truth.

“I didn’t know you worked here,” Jeno ripped your attention from your coworker when he leaned against the counter to watch you work the big coffee machine. “I was working in a different shop a little off campus before,” you smiled, focusing on pouring the milk into one of the cups of coffee to form a pretty picture. “You’re really good at making them look pretty,” Jeno complimented you, his cheeks tinted a rosy color. “It’s just practice,” you mumbled, hiding your own shyness behind the counter to quickly grab the cake slices the boys had ordered. An awkward silence hung over the two of you while you worked on finishing the other drink orders (it always took a ridiculous amount of time to make Jaemin’s) and your brain ran on overdrive trying to come up with a topic to talk to Jeno to fill up the silence while willing your hands to not shake and make a fool out of yourself in front of him.

“Do... Do you work between classes?” You chose to ask in the end, scolding yourself immediately for asking what must be the most lame, basic question ever. “I hardly have time between classes and practice,” Jeno explained nonetheless, scrunching his nose adorably to push up his glasses,” I’m here on a scholarship so I have to show results in hockey or I’ll be out.” “Ooh, I didn’t know that. But you’re really good so it shouldn’t be a surprise,” you spoke your mind before you could think about the words but as soon as it registered, your face immediately was heating up. Jeno just laughed awkwardly and scratched the back of his head. “I’m not bad I guess. It’s just a lot of practice, it’s nothing special,” he mirrored the words you had said earlier, an easy smile on his lips. “Even I can see you have an unfair amount of talent for hockey, Jeno.” At that he barked out a short laugh. “You should have seen me when I stood on the ice for the first time, I couldn’t even skate in a straight line without falling on my ass, no idea what the scouts saw in me when they talked to my mum to recruit me.” “I bet you’re just being modest,” you argued. “I am not I swear,” he laughed, “I was really bad but I trained a lot so I could make the team. I’m not like Donghyuck who can just skip half of practice because he’s hungover. I have to work for it.” “That makes it even more admirable,” you mumbled, not able to look him in the eye when you spoke the words even though you meant them with all your heart. “Th- Thank you,” Jeno stuttered and when you looked up at his face again, you could see that his ears were bright red. “I mean it,” you smiled and when he finally met your eyes you couldn’t help but get lost in his for a while.

“And you tell me to stop flirting with customers,” Yuta broke whatever moment you just had with Jeno and shoved you from the spot on the coffee machine. “I wasn’t,” you tried to argue but your colleague just clocked his tongue and rolled his eyes. “I... I wouldn’t mind if you were,” Jeno mumbled so quietly you had almost missed it, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach and a smile to creep onto your lips again. “We should bring the drinks over,” you smiled, grabbing the tray that held the drinks so Jeno could take the one with the cakes. “Ye... Yeah, orders, drinks, sure,” he stuttered, grabbing the second tray and following you through the café back over to where his friends were seated. “I thought you would never come back,” Jaemin already whined, grabbing his deathpresso off of your tray. “It takes a while to make eight freaking extra shots of espresso,” you scolded your best friend while giving out the rest of the orders to the other boys who all agreed, joining in on telling Jaemin how unhealthy his coffee drinking habits were. “Let me know if you need anything else,” you smiled politely when everyone had gotten their respective drinks, leaving the boys to banter playfully.

Over the course of your shift, the boys stayed to study and ordered another round of hot drinks before they left just shy of the ending of your shift. Jeno threw you another shy smile and a little sweater pawed wave when they left the shop that almost send you into cardiac arrest. “I’ll clean that table and then head out,” you announced to Yuta who was glued to his phone, checking his twitter feed. Among the chaos of used napkins and dishes, you found a neatly folded piece of paper with your name neatly written on it, a little heart drawn in the corner that set you own one racing again. You quickly put it in your pocket and cleared the rest of the table, all but throwing the dishes into the dishwasher at the back so you could get out of your apron and take a look at the note your secret admirer had left. While you were changing into your warm jacket, you couldn’t help but to think and to hope that Jeno had left it for you. After all he had been at both the gatherings that had led to you finding these notes and he also shared lot of classes with you where he could technically have slipped you a note or two. And on top of that he had also been at the library when the coffee incident happened.

Once you stepped out of the café and into the cool air of the early evening, you sat down on one of the benches surrounding the building to read the little note in peace.

You look so cute when you’re concentrating on making pretty latte art, did you know that? I loved the little talk we had but I am too shy to talk to you. Can you tell by these notes? My friends all make fun of me for writing cheesy notes instead of manning up to actually talk to you. I don’t even know if you would want to meet me. But if you want to, then meet me at the ice rink tomorrow at 7pm. I’ll be waiting for you there, I promise.

You couldn’t hold in the little shriek of joy that made its way past your lips. It had to be Jeno. It couldn’t be anyone else. It had to be him. Holding the little note close to your furiously beating heart, you smiled and kicked your legs in joy before storing it carefully into your bag. Jaemin better be ready to help you choose an outfit for tomorrow and listen to you whine without asking too many questions about who you were actually going to meet.

When you arrived at the stadium the next day, clutching the note tightly in your hand, you double checked the time and carefully looked around before you tried to open the front door which to your surprise was actually unlocked. Taking a deep breath, you went in, closing the door firmly behind you before walking up to the second door that would take you to the bleachers. Slowly you pulled it open as well, hoping it wouldn’t make too much noise. The rink itself was just dimly lit, most of the lights turned off and on the ice there was a single figure skating around the perimeter, seemingly lost in their thoughts while aimlessly taking sharp turns that send pieces of ice flying, making the skids screech. You would have recognized that person between hundreds of other skaters, the midnight blue hair easily giving him away.

Jeno seemingly hadn’t noticed you yet and it gave you time to sort out your racing heart and thoughts. Had it really been him to write you all the sweet notes that you had begun to collect in a little box you hid from Jaemin in a box beneath your bed? Or was the universe playing a prank on you and it was just a coincidence that he was practicing right now, alone at night. But then again no one else was around and he really wasn’t dressed for practice, just wearing one of his big hoodies and jeans. It had to be his notes. And thinking back on it, he really had been the only person who had been at the same places, the notes had been showing up. From the dinner with the hockey team to the ones in your classes and at your work or in the library.

Slowly you made your way down the steps of the bleachers, keeping quiet so you wouldn’t disturb Jeno who was still skating around the rink. Once you arrived at the bottom row of seats, you took a seat next to a pair of skates and a pair of sneakers that probably belonged to Jeno. Sitting in silence, you watched his movements for a while. He was captivating to watch: Seeing him effortlessly glide over the ice before suddenly sprinting forward only to come to an abrupt halt or take a sharp turn. It was beyond you how he held his balance through it all.

Suddenly he halted in his moves completely to stare at the big clock on the back wall of the stadium that showed that it was fifteen minutes past seven already before he sighed deeply, raking a hand through his fluffy hair. Was he nervous? Nervous you wouldn’t come? Just when he was taking off, his eyes caught your figure and he stopped again, a big smile spreading across his face that made his eyes curl into the beautiful half-moon shape you adored. While you were busy trying to remember how to breathe, he was skating towards you, effortlessly jumping from the ice through a little door in the rink, walking towards you. “You came,” he beamed, kneeling down in front of you after he had grabbed the skates that were still lying next to you. “Yeah I did,” you answered, still not entirely sure what to make of this situation. With how fast your heart was beating, it must have climbed all the way up to your throat and you weren’t sure if you could have produced a proper sentence if you wanted to.

“I hope I didn’t misinterpret all of this,” Jeno mumbled while he carefully undid your shoelaces before slipping them off your feet, “And you’re just here to tell me to stop being creepy and not leave any more notes around.” The way he looked up at you from beneath his midnight blue bangs tugged at your heart and you couldn’t find any words to tell him just how okay you were with this, so you just nodded, feeling heat rise to your cheeks, the skin feeling way too hot against the cold of the stadium. Smiling brightly Jeno quickly prepared the skates to slip onto your feet and laced them up tightly, his nimble fingers working fast and efficient. “Is this alright? Not too tight?” “Seems fine,” you smiled back at him, experimentally wiggling your toes. “Alright,” Jeno smiled, extending a hand to you. “Come on, let’s go.”

Shyly, you took his hand to let him pull you upright. On wobbly feet, you followed him to the little door in the rink, letting him step onto the ice first. “I’ve never done this before,” you confessed, almost reflexive reaching your gloved hands out towards him which he took with a gentle smile, squeezing them reassuringly. “I won’t let you fall,” he promised, tightening the grip on your hands. “Okay,” you whispered, carefully stepping onto the slippery ice, unsure how to work with the skates. “You’re a natural,” Jeno beamed when you finally stood with both feet on the ice. “I- I don’t know,” you shied away from the praise, wishing you could hide in your big scarf. “Hold on tightly now,” the hockey player warned before he skillfully moved his legs so he was sliding backwards, effectively pulling you with him. A little surprised sound escaped your lips and you clutched his hands tightly, worrying your gaze to your feet where you tried to stabilize yourself and keeping the skids up right.

“Don’t think so much about it. Look at me,” Jeno’s voice cut through the soft scratching noises of the skates. “I’ll fall if I do,” you argued. Also your heart would most likely leap out of your chest if you did. As if it wasn’t already beating furiously enough now that you were basically on a date with your crush and he was holding your hands. “I told you that I won’t let you fall,” he promised, slowing down his own movements until you came to a halt. Steadying yourself on the skates, you took a deep breath before looking up to meet Jeno’s eyes. And just like that time stood still. Under the dimmed lights in the stadium, it felt like you two were the only people on this planet. You got lost in the deep brown shade of his eyes and adored how his nose and cheeks were tinted a pretty blush color from the cold. “Hey there,” he whispered, tucking your scarf neatly around your neck where it had come undone, the gesture so intimate, it made your breath hitch. “Hi,” you answered dumbly and it made him smile, his eyes curving into the beautiful half-moon eye smile.

Before you could do anything stupid like coo hat how pretty he looked, his smile turned into a mischievous grin and he quickly let go of your hands to skid backwards a couple of meters further towards the center of the rink. “Jenoooo,” you whined once you had found your balance again, glaring to where he was making a couple of sharp turns, creating indents in the smooth ice and sending pieces flying. “Come over,” he called, opening his arms wide. “You just want to see me fall.” “You won’t, have some faith in yourself. Just kick with your skates until you gain momentum. It’s like walking just with a little more glide.” “Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds?” “Just try it. For me,” Jeno smiled, sliding a little closer to you and opening his arms again. Sighing, you nodded, balling your hands into fists before you kicked your feet just how you had seen Jeno and the other’s do a hundred times before. Albeit very wobbly and slow, you were sliding over the ice. A smile slowly spread over your face as you kicked your feet again and again and you weren’t even mad when you noticed that Jeno steadily moved backwards to keep you going. “See, you’re a natural,” he beamed but just when he said that, you stumbled over one of the indents he had created earlier when he was showing off. You already prepared yourself to meet the cold unforgiving ice, making a complete fool out of yourself but instead two strong arms curled around you to pull you against a strong chest so you were stabilized again.

“I told you, I wouldn’t let you fall,” Jeno whispered, his hands steady on your waist. “Thank you,” you mumbled, slowly snaking your arms around him as well until your bodies were flush together. For a while you just stood on the ice, hugging each other until your breaths evened out, hearts beating in the same rhythm. “I’m so glad you actually came.” “Why wouldn’t I?” You mumbled into his neck. “Maybe you thought all my notes were creepy.” “I was really confused at first,” you admitted, “I thought it was a joke. I couldn’t think of a reason why anyone would write these to me. I was waiting for someone to bring up the topic so they could make fun of me. But deep down I really wished it was you who was writing them and that you actually meant everything you wrote.” The longer you spoke, the more you felt your face heat up. “I wish I had more courage to actually ask you out properly,” Jeno confessed, his voice quiet, “I kept seeing you around Jaemin and then you started to come to our matches. And then we ended up in so many of the same courses and guess what you’re not only very pretty but also incredibly smart. And I guess I kind of developed this huge crush on you with your big scarves and hoodies.”   “Me... Me too, Jeno,” you whispered, your heart making summersaults in your chest and a smile spreading on your lips. Beneath your fingers you could feel Jeno chuckle. “Will you let me kiss you?” He asked softly and who were you to deny him?

Slowly you lifted your head from his shoulder and he carefully cupped your face before he leaned in to kiss you until your noses were touching. His bangs were tickling your face but you wouldn’t have wanted to have it any other way and crossed the last few centimeters between you to press your lips against his slightly chapped ones. Like you had all time in the world you just stood on the ice, lazily moving your lips together only ever separating to heave in a couple of breathes of air and share a soft giggle before claiming each other’s lips again with hearts beating like one.

Eventually Jeno pulled back when you leaned in to kiss him again, a big smile on his lips when you pouted. “You’ll get another one when you manage to skate a whole round in the rink,” he grinned, his eyes sparkling. “You’re the worst Lee Jeno,” you kept pouting, “You’re hurting yourself just as much as me.” “Come on, it’s going to be fun,” he smiled, snaking free from your grip to skate around you in quick motions. “Show off,” you mumbled underneath your breath but tried your best to copy his movements to fulfill his quest.

In the end he had been right, once you got the hang of it and didn’t lose your balance every time there was a dent in the ice, it actually as fun to chase each other around the rink even though you knew he was purposefully letting you catch up to him at times to steal more kisses. It still somehow didn’t feel real that you actually were here with Lee Jeno and that you were actually allowed to kiss him just like this. After what felt like hours, Jeno helped you out of your skates and you just sat on the bleachers cuddled up together beneath a blanket, looking down at the rink. “Are you going to see the match tomorrow?” He asked. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I?” Jeno just hummed, a blush creeping up his cheeks and ears, this one definitely not from the cold. What was making him shy all of a sudden? “Would you... I mean... If you wanted to... Would you,” he stuttered before he groaned loudly and grabbed your hands tightly, “Willyouwearmyjackettothegame?” “What?” “My jacket... Would you wear it tomorrow?” He asked again, slower this time but still not meeting your eyes, instead looking at your interlocked hands. “Do you want me to?” You asked him back, a big smile on your lips. “I mean... I understand if this is a little fast but... But I’ve had this crush on you for the longest time and... And I would really like to show everyone that you’re you know...” “That I’m your girlfriend?” “Y... Yeah,” he admitted, shyly looking at you from beneath his midnight blue bangs. “Of course I will,” you smiled broadly, throwing your arms around him to hug him close.

And you did. After you and Jeno had talked for a little while longer about everything and nothing at all (and maybe some more kissing) until you had yawned more than he found acceptable, he had quickly run to the locker rooms to fetch his jacket that he had promptly laid over your shoulders on your way home. In front of your apartment building he had kissed you goodbye and wished you sweet dreams before he walked away to his own dorm room that he shared with Donghyuck so you had found out. You turned the key as silently as you could so you wouldn’t wake up your best friend who was out cold on the small sofa in your living room, the Netflix ‘Are you still watching?’ screen illuminating the room. Shaking your head, you draped a blanket over the sleeping boy and turned the TV off before getting ready for bed as well. The next morning you had to explain why you had Jeno’s jacket to a screaming Jaemin at an ungodly hour but in the end he was just excited as you were if not more because he didn’t have to hear both of you pining anymore because he had promised Jeno not to meddle.

You slipped into Jeno’s big jacket when you and your friend where about to leave so you wouldn’t be late to the match, you couldn’t help but smile, snuggling deep into the collar until your boyfriend’s smell engulfed you like a blanket. “Stop being gross or the best seats will be taken,” your best friend complained, tugging you with him and filling the way over to the stadium with chatter. “There are so many people,” you exclaimed when you had entered the stadium, looking around for free seats. “It’s the highlight of the season, what did you expect?” Jaemin asked, tugging you further down when he spotted Mark’s girlfriend waving excitedly at your two. She also was wearing a jacket with the name ‘Lee’ on the back just that hers had a big blue 2 on the back and not a 23 like yours. “You and Jeno?” She excitedly jumped up and down when she had spotted your jacket and you could only nod shyly. “I’m so happy for you. Mark told me how Jeno kept pining after you.”

“What’s with all the Lees over here?” A male voice cut in before you could answer anything and Johnny Suh sat down next to Jaemin, not clad in his usual dark red jacket with his name and the 9 on the back but in a rather small orange one with a giant blue 10 on the back. “You’ll fit right in,” Mark’s girlfriend chirped, making Johnny blush and hide his face in his knitted scarf, mumbling something about how stupid it was that it had to be so cold to play hockey and how much rather he’d be in his heated gym. “The joy of dating Korean guys,” Jaemin laughed, jumping up and climbing in a seat the row above you, “Let me take a picture, this is hilarious.” “Ten and Mark aren’t even Korean,” Johnny argued, “But Leechaiyapornkul would have been a bit excessive to put on a jacket.”

The rest of his argument was drowned out by the cheers that erupted when the players came from their lockers, the starting 6 quickly rounding the rink, making a couple of sharp turns and going through moves with their stick. Being their center forward player, Jeno was in the starting team along with Sungchan and Donghyuck. On the defense, Winwin and Mark were checking their gear before the captain made sure that all of Yangyang’s protective gear was on right. In the meantime Jeno was searching the bleachers and you couldn’t help but feel shy before you waved at him, jumping up and down so he would notice you. Because of the helmet you couldn’t know if he smiled at you but your heart made summersaults nonetheless when you playfully put on the hood of the jacket to show him that you were indeed wearing it. You imagined him laughing before he blew you a kiss with an over exaggerated movement that made quite a few people turn their heads to see who he could have blown the kiss to. Before you could even think about hiding, Johnny gripped your arm tightly and hissed: “If I am out here wearing Ten’s stupid jacket that is way too small for me while he refuses to wear mine in public because he’s not some trophy wife, you will not hide now.” Not knowing whether you should be afraid of Johnny or laugh at what really sounded like something Ten would say, you just nodded at the blonde, straightening out your back. From the opposite side you could see Ten sitting in the exchange box, a huge grin on his face when he must have spotted Johnny in the crowd (which really wasn’t that hard, the dude was unnecessarily tall).

“They better win this game or I will be mad,” the blonde grumbled when everyone had sat back down and the referee had called both team captains over. “It’s going to be a tight game,” Jaemin filled him in, “The gorillas have been on a roll for the past couple of games. But I have the feeling that a couple of players might just try extra hard today, trying to show off.” At the end, he threw both Johnny and you a very over exaggerated look completed with wiggling eyebrows which earned him slaps from both of you. “Now shut your mouth, Na Jaemin, I actually want to see this game.” “Wow she gets a hot hockey player as her boyfriend and suddenly she doesn’t need my top notch commentating anymore, that hurts.” “Shut up, Nana,” you smiled, focusing back to where in fact your boyfriend was playing on the ice just now. And even if you loved to see Jeno playing, you couldn’t wait for the game to be over to be back in his arms to congratulate him.