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svt-luna · 4 hours ago

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ʚིᵋ ⋆ JEONGNA’S PRIVATE MOMENTS THAT WERE ACTUALLY VERY PUBLIC ࣪ ! ˓ ౨ৎ ࣪˖ ─── now playing…

synopsis: A compilation of Luna and Jeonghan’s most obvious “totally platonic” moments that prove they were never actually hiding their relationship— just gaslighting us into thinking they weren’t.

this was so much fun to write! just a glimpse into carats’ minds as they revisit how obvious JeongNa were 🤭 this idea was inspired by my cherry baby’s @kortmurt recent request so thank you, my lovely!! hope you guys enjoy! happy reading, my loves 🤍

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ youtube compilations

[added captions are in brackets] ღ

bold dialogues are spoken in english ღ

indented italics are additional voice overs ღ

Hello! Welcome back to my channel! And if you are new… buckle up because I have something to get out of my chest *clears throat*

I know it’s been MONTHS already but we need to have a SERIOUS discussion because I, for one, feel PLAYED. BAMBOOZLED. GASLIT. MANIPULATED. LED ASTRAY.

Now, as we ALL know, Jeonghan and Luna’s relationship has been confirmed for a few months now. Not only that, but they’re also confirmed to be ENGAGED.

And do you think they’re being lowkey about it? Do you think they’re subtly easing us into this new reality?

No! They are out here posting, commenting, and flirting PUBLICLY like they’re getting PAID for it— oh wait, they’re not. They just enjoy making all of us feel single and stupid. Which, honestly, good for them. I respect it. ALL THE SIGNS WERE THERE! SOME OF US WERE JUST TOO STUPID TO SEE!! *points to myself*

Now that I look back, these two have been soft launching their relationship for FIVE YEARS. FIVE YEARS. And we all just ate it up like clowns. Like, ‘Oh wow, what a beautiful friendship! Soulmate besties!’

Meanwhile, Mr. Manifest-Manipulate-Meditate Yoon Jeonghan and Ms. Gaslight-Gatekeep-Girlboss Bae Jiyeon were out here actively LYING to our faces. And we BELIEVED THEM.

“We’re just best friends.” Is their go-to response or excuse to all the speculations… GIVE THEM AN OSCAR!!

So, in today’s video, we’re revisiting all the moments where Jeonghan and Luna did NOT know the cameras were on them. Moments where they straight up forgot they were in public. Where they weren’t even TRYING to hide anymore. Bonus clips of my favorite moments in general and some accidental slip ups.

Because let’s be real, the only reason they got away with this for so long is because we were all blind… and easily gaslighted.

So grab a snack, grab some tissues, and prepare to cringe at how obvious these two were being while we sat here thinking they were just besties… premium besties.

Let’s get into it.

THE IDEAL BOYFRIEND, YOON JEONGHAN

Starting strong with this iconic exchange between Luna and a Carat.

The soft hum of overlapping voices filled the air as SEVENTEEN and Luna sat in front of their respective tables, each lined up with tablets in front of them, virtually speaking to fans in an online fan sign event. The lighting in the room was bright, illuminating the members as they interacted with Carats through their screens.

Luna sat comfortably at her own table, her elbows lightly resting against the surface as she leaned in slightly toward the screen in front of her. She had her earphones in, nodding along attentively as she listened to the fan on the other end. A warm smile lingered on her lips, her head tilting slightly as she responded to whatever the fan had just said, eyes twinkling with genuine interest.

[She’s so pretty 😭]

As their conversation began to wrap up, the fan, who had been chatting animatedly with her, hesitated for a moment before calling out softly, “Jiyeonie…”

Luna, mid-smile, nodded, encouraging the fan to continue. “Yes?” she replied smoothly, her voice light and inviting.

The fan hesitated for just a second before continuing. “I have one last question before my turn ends.”

Luna let out a small hum of curiosity, straightening her posture slightly. “Oh? What is it?” she asked, her tone effortlessly warm as she adjusted the position of her hands, fingers lightly tapping against the table.

The fan took a deep breath, almost as if building up the courage to ask. “Who, out of the other members, would be the ideal boyfriend?”

[AMAZING QUESTION BTW!!]

Luna chuckled at the unexpected question, the corners of her lips twitching upward as she processed it. A light laugh escaped her as she leaned back slightly in her chair, her head tilting in amusement. “Ideal boyfriend for you?” she asked, lifting a brow before trailing off. “Or…?”

[For you, babes]

The fan, catching onto Luna’s playful hesitation, let out a giggle. “Just in general! Like, who do you think would make the best boyfriend?”

Luna exhaled a short laugh, her fingers playing with the wire of her earphones for a moment as she smiled. “Well,” she began, already thinking carefully about how to navigate the question. “Honestly, all of the members have qualities that would make them ideal boyfriends. They each have their own charms and unique personalities that people would find appealing. They all have their strengths.” She spoke smoothly, clearly doing her best to dance around giving a direct answer.

[She’s speaking facts]

[All thirteen of those men are boyfriend material]

[Jiyeonie is girlfriend material]

[GOSH– I want all of them…]

The fan, however, wasn’t having it. “Only one!” she insisted, grinning.

Luna’s smile lingered as she paused for a few seconds, eyes slightly narrowing in amused contemplation. Then, with zero hesitation and a completely natural ease, she simply said, “Jeonghannie.”

[AAHGSYEBUSGEYBEJEBSIHEUEBUEBDU]

[THAT SMILE]

[THE SMILE, THE TWINKLE IN HER EYES, THE QUICKNESS OF IT ALL!!!]

A high-pitched squeal immediately erupted from the fan’s side of the screen, making Luna burst into laughter, her head tilting downward as she tried to compose herself. She held up a hand as if in surrender, shaking her head at the overjoyed reaction.

[Same]

[Fell off my bed when I watched this for the first time]

“Wait, wait, let me explain!” she said between small giggles, pressing her lips together to suppress another laugh. “I just think he’s the most boyfriend material out of all of them.” She shrugged as if her answer was obvious, tilting her head slightly. “He’s obviously very thoughtful and knows how to take care of people in a way that’s subtle but meaningful. He remembers little details, and he’s good at making sure the people around him are comfortable. He’s funny, he’s smart, athletic, hardworking… I think those are important qualities, right?”

[miss thing out here listing all the qualities she clearly like in a man]

[WE. WERE. BLIND.]

The fan, barely containing their excitement, was already speaking again. “Okay! Jeonghan is the ideal boyfriend in general… but how about for you? Who’s your ideal boyfriend?”

[GREAT QUESTION AGAIN!!]

Luna’s eyes widened slightly at the follow-up question before she let out a soft chuckle. She lowered her gaze momentarily, shaking her head with an amused smile before simply muttering, “I already gave my answer.”

[GOODBYE WORLD I–]

[MY PRONOUNS ARE J.E.O.N.G.N.A. RAHHH 🦅🦅]

That was all it took.

The fan on the other end of the screen let out an even louder squeal, completely losing it as Luna bit her lower lip, laughing at the dramatic reaction.

[She’s not even at all hiding it]

This particular clip from the fan sign quickly made rounds online. It spread like wildfire across Caratland, becoming one of the most well-known moments in their fandom.

Fans analyzed every micro-expression, every shift in Luna’s tone, and every flicker of hesitation in her words. Even back then, before their relationship was public, Carats had suspicions— but it was only after their confirmation that this moment became a clear and undeniable piece of evidence.

[I never doubted my JeongNa]

“WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING FOR IN A PARTNER?”

And since we are in the topic of ideal types, here is another fan sign moment where JeongNa completely disregarded all form of discretion in front of a lucky Carat who by the way we should also thank for asking such a great question to our bunny couple.

At the offline fan sign, rows of excited Carats filled the venue, eagerly awaiting their turn to meet the members of SEVENTEEN. Each member sat behind a long table, interacting with fans one by one. Albums, posters, and various gifts piled up before them, each a testament to the unwavering support from their fans.

[Let me present to you another iconic JeongNa moment]

Luna, seated between Jeonghan and Vernon, radiated her usual calm and comforting energy. Her doe-like eyes focused on the fan before her, who clutched an album with trembling hands. Despite her clear excitement, nerves were evident in her quivering voice.

“I’m so happy to meet you, Jiyeonie,” the fan stammered, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Luna offered a gentle smile, reaching out to clasp the fan’s hands reassuringly. Her touch was warm, grounding the girl before her. “Don’t be nervous,” Luna said softly, her voice like a soothing balm. “I’m happy to meet you too. Thank you for coming today. I like you’re dress!”

[She’s the bestest girl fr 🥹]

The fan took a deep breath, her face breaking into a smile at Luna’s comforting words. “Thank you… Oh! I have something for you!” she exclaimed, reaching into her bag and pulling out a delicate beaded headdress. The beads shimmered under the venue’s lights, their colors dancing with every tiny movement.

“Oh, it’s beautiful!” Luna marveled, her eyes wide with delight. She tilted her head slightly and glanced at the fan with a playful grin. “Will you put it on me?”

The fan’s cheeks flushed a rosy pink as she nodded eagerly. “Yes! I’d love to.”

[I’D LOVE TO!!!]

As Luna focused on signing the album in front of her, the fan carefully leaned forward, her hands trembling slightly as she placed the beaded accessory atop Luna’s head. Luna sat still, allowing the fan to adjust the headdress until it settled perfectly, the beads framing her face elegantly.

[🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️]

Once the headdress was in place, Luna turned her head slightly, testing its weight before glancing up at the fan with a bright smile. “How do I look?” she asked, a playful glint in her eyes.

[LIKE YOU JUST CAME OUT OF A FANTASY WORLD]

The fan clasped her hands together, practically vibrating with excitement. “So beautiful! Seriously, your future partner is going to be so lucky,” she gushed, eyes filled with admiration.

[The “future” partner sitting right next to her]

Luna let out a soft, melodious laugh, dipping her head slightly as if to hide the slight blush dusting her cheeks. “Thank you,” she murmured, fingers idly tracing the cover of the album she had just signed.

Growing bolder, the fan leaned in a little closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’ve been asking all the members about their ideal type today,” she began, her eyes darting briefly to the line of members seated beside Luna, “and I want to know yours too!”

[He’s seated right next to her]

Luna’s eyebrows shot up in amused surprise, a chuckle escaping her lips as she considered the question. “My ideal type, huh?” she echoed, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Well… I think I would want someone who’s a genuinely good person overall. Someone who’s hardworking, funny, and smart. I like someone a bit mischievous— someone who can keep things interesting.”

[wHO cOulD tHaT pOsSibLy bE?!]

The fan’s eyes sparkled with intrigue, nodding eagerly as Luna spoke.

“Most importantly, I think I want someone who can be my best friend first. Someone I know well and can trust with anything,” Luna concluded with a soft, affectionate smile that seemed to light up her whole face.

[The best friend in question is sitting right next to her]

The fan beamed at her response, clearly thrilled. But she wasn’t done yet. “What about looks? Do you have a type when it comes to features?”

[You’ll meet him in a sec, miss thing… or you could just turn your head to the man seated next to Luna]

Luna shook her head, her smile never wavering. “I don’t have a specific type when it comes to features. But…” she trailed off, her eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief, “I do tend to find guys who look like anime characters attractive. Someone who can pull off both short and long hair.”

[SHE WASN’T EVEN TRYING TO HIDE IT ANYMORE]

The fan burst into delighted laughter, completely enchanted by Luna’s answer. She nodded in agreement, clearly relating to the sentiment.

After her conversation with Luna the fan moved down the line, she arrived in front of Jeonghan, still giddy from her conversation with Luna. She barely had time to settle before Jeonghan, with that signature mischievous smirk of his, tilted his head and playfully narrowed his eyes at her.

[THAT. DAMN. SMIRK.]

[Bae Jiyeon, I get you. I feel you. I relate to you.]

“Why are you smiling so big?” he teased, his tone light and curious. He leaned slightly forward, resting his forearm lazily on the table as he signed her album. “Was Jiyeonie really that much fun to talk to? I’m telling you, I’m way more fun.”

[A menace]

The fan laughed at his antics, amused by the way he immediately started competing for her attention. The moment she glanced toward Luna, who was still signing for the next fan, Jeonghan followed her gaze, a knowing glint in his eyes.

Luna, catching on to the conversation, barely spared him a glance before shooting him a playful glare, the kind that wasn’t meant to intimidate at all but rather to silently tell him to behave. Jeonghan, of course, didn’t take it seriously. He simply chuckled, throwing her a quick wink before shifting his attention back to the fan in front of him.

[AHVHNEBHEBSHS MOM! DAD! ADOPT ME!!]

The fan shook her head with a laugh. “All of you are so much fun to talk to.”

“Really?” Jeonghan feigned skepticism, clicking his tongue in mock disappointment. “Then what were you two giggling about?” He signed her album effortlessly, eyes flicking up briefly as he waited for an answer.

[As if you weren’t listening 🤐]

The fan smiled knowingly, gripping the edge of the table in excitement. “I asked Jiyeonie about her ideal type in a partner.”

At that, Jeonghan’s hand stilled for a fraction of a second before he finished the last stroke of his signature. With a lazy sort of curiosity, he leaned back slightly and looked up at her, eyebrow raised. “Why are you so interested in our Jiyeonie’s love life?”

[OUR?!? SIR?!? WHATTTTT?!!?22)2)6:?277/)]

[Love life… he wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore]

The fan giggled, shaking her head. “I asked everyone! I wanted to know everyone’s answers.”

Jeonghan hummed in understanding, nodding as he leaned forward once again. “You’re gonna ask me too?” His voice was teasing, but there was an unmistakable glimmer in his eyes.

[HE IS TOO EXCITED TO ANSWER]

[you can practically see the answers trying to escape his mouth]

The fan nodded enthusiastically. “Of course!”

Jeonghan let out a thoughtful hum, tapping the marker against the album cover as if considering his answer.

[*pretends to think as if he didn’t already prepare a answer*

Then, with a small, knowing smile, he finally spoke.

“Well… I like someone who’s cute but also really cool. Someone who’s down to do things I enjoy but also won’t force me to do things I don’t want to,” he started, his voice smooth and casual, but there was an unmistakable weight behind his words. “Someone I can be lazy with— you know, stay at home all day and just rot in bed together.”

[wHO cOulD tHaT pOsSibLy bE pt. 2?!?]

The fan immediately caught on. Her eyes widened slightly as he continued.

“Someone similar to me, but not exactly the same,” Jeonghan mused, glancing up at the fan briefly before looking back down at the album. “Hardworking, smart… Someone who would take care of me.”

[‘I know something you don’t’ ~]

The similarities to Luna’s answer were undeniable. But Jeonghan didn’t stop there. His voice softened ever so slightly as he added, “And someone who knows everything about me. Someone who was a friend first.”

[THE SAME FUCKING ANSWERS FROM THE BOTH OF THEM, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!!!!]

[‘AND WHAT THE HELL WERE WE? TELL ME WE WEREN’T JUST FRIENDS!!!’ ~]

The fan, who had already been suppressing her excitement, bit her lip, practically vibrating in her seat. “And physically?” she asked, leaning in with a teasing smile.

[She’s a JeongNa shipper for sure and we love her for that 😝]

Jeonghan tilted his head slightly, pretending to think.

[*pretends to think again as if he isn’t fighting the urge to just name Luna or point at her*]

Then, almost imperceptibly, his gaze flickered to his right— so quick and subtle that if you blinked, you’d miss it. Luna was still speaking to the fan in front of her, completely immersed in their conversation, unaware of the way Jeonghan had glanced at her.

[I SAW IT?!? DID YOU SEE IT?!?]

[*plays in slow motion repeatedly*]

[WNHEJEBSJWNNE HE COULDN’T HELP HIMSLEF?2!):&2’ziwj]

Jeonghan looked back at the fan, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. “Nothing too specific,” he said casually. “But I think long hair is nice.”

The fan sucked in a quiet breath before nodding along with a huge smile on her face.

“A dimpled smile,” he continued smoothly, tapping his fingers lightly against the table. “A really beautiful smile, actually.”

Her eyes darted toward Luna instinctively.

[WHATTHEFUCK JUST FUCKING NAME HER AT THIS POINT]

“Pretty eyes,” Jeonghan added, then, as if an afterthought, he chuckled. “Oh, and moles. I think moles on the face are really attractive.”

[Translation: “Bae Jiyeon”]

[Jeonghan’s type: Luna, Jiyeon, Bae Jiyeon, Luna Bae, Nana]

The fan’s mouth fell open slightly.

There was absolutely no mistaking it. He had just described the girl sitting right next to him.

Jeonghan, completely nonchalant, handed back the signed album, his smirk still firmly in place as if he hadn’t just exposed himself in the most discreet yet obvious way possible.

[HE KNOWS WHAT THE FUCK HE’S DOING]

[NO REGRETS FROM EITHER OF THEM TOO!!]

The fan, who was still in the middle of processing his words, barely managed to thank him before she was ushered by the staff to move down the line.

And just as she did, Jeonghan shifted in his seat ever so slightly, leaning toward Luna’s side. He lowered his voice, murmuring something only meant for her ears. Luna, caught off guard, paused mid-signature. Then, just as quickly, she bit her lip to suppress a giggle, shaking her head as she continued writing.

[I WANNA KNOW TOOOOOOOBEHUSGEUWHSJ]

[They are probably giggling at how they are teasing us 🫠]

Their words were theirs alone, but the moment— the way she grinned, the way he leaned just a fraction closer— was enough for anyone paying attention to suspect that there was more to their exchange than what met the eye.

DINNER AT NEW YORK

New York JeongNa was a vibe iykyk.

The video, taken discreetly from a few tables away, was slightly shaky at first, the fan adjusting their phone’s position to capture the scene without drawing attention. The dim, warm lighting of the New York restaurant cast a soft glow over the space, the low hum of conversations and the occasional clinking of silverware creating a cozy, intimate atmosphere.

[They were so cute here]

At the very corner of the room, tucked away from the more crowded center, Jeonghan and Luna sat together in a booth, but instead of sitting across from each other like most couples would, Jeonghan had chosen to sit right beside her. His body was angled slightly toward her, his arm draped lazily across the back of the booth, fingers lightly resting behind her shoulder as if it was second nature.

[GAHHHHHHHHHH IS ALL I CAN SAY]

There was no unnecessary space between them— the way their bodies leaned into each other made it clear that this wasn’t a calculated attempt at privacy but rather a natural display of closeness.

[THEY WEREN’T HIDING OR ANYTHING]

Luna was speaking, her hands occasionally gesturing slightly as she explained something, and Jeonghan— despite the quiet noise of the restaurant, despite the presence of other diners, despite the occasional movement of waitstaff passing by— was focused on nothing but her. His head tilted down, his gaze locked onto her face, listening intently as if whatever she was saying was the most important thing in the world.

[YOON JEONGHAN, THE MAN THAT YOU ARE 🧎‍♀️]

[HOW TF IS SHE NOT MELTING IS THE QUESTION?!]

[Bae Jiyeon is stronger than me cause I would have jumped on him if I her—]

The fan’s camera zoomed in slightly, capturing the way Jeonghan’s lips quirked up at the corners, his expression soft, his eyes crinkling faintly. Whatever Luna had said must have amused him because a quiet chuckle left his lips before he subtly leaned in closer, murmuring something just for her. Luna turned her head slightly, reacting to his words with a small, knowing smile, her fingers absentmindedly brushing against the fabric of his sleeve.

[Brb literally crying in the club rn…]

[They are perfect together 🥹]

The moment felt so intimate yet so casual, as if they had done this a thousand times before— shared a space like this, lost in their own little world, unaware or simply unbothered by the outside eyes that might have been watching.

And then, without hesitation or fanfare, Jeonghan leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to the side of her head. It was brief but undeniably affectionate, his lips grazing her temple with an ease that spoke of familiarity, of comfort, of love that didn’t need to be hidden.

[HOW DID WE NOT KNOW?!?]

[IT WAS RIGHT IN FRONT OF US!!]

Luna didn’t react with surprise. Instead, she simply turned her head slightly toward him, her expression warm, her lips curving into something impossibly fond. It was as if she was used to moments like this— small, quiet gestures that didn’t need words to be understood.

[*googles ‘how to be Bae Jiyeon’*]

Before the video cut off, their food arrived, the plates being placed in front of them, momentarily shifting their attention to the server. But even as Luna reached for her utensils and Jeonghan adjusted his seat slightly, there was still an unspoken connection between them, the kind that lingered even when words weren’t being exchanged.

And then, the screen went black.

‘BE THE SUN’ IN LOS ANGELES SOUNDCHECK

this. just this video right here.

The Los Angeles sky burned a soft orange as the sun began to set outside the stadium, but inside, under the glow of dimmed stage lights, the atmosphere buzzed with an entirely different energy. Hundreds of lucky VIP ticket holders stood eagerly in the pit, their phones raised, recording and capturing every second of SEVENTEEN’s soundcheck.

The exclusivity of this moment made it even more special— this was their chance to see the members in a relaxed, unfiltered state before the actual concert began. The stage was void of the extravagant lighting and pyrotechnics that would come later, leaving just the members, their voices, and the electrifying connection they shared with their fans.

[I want to experience soundcheck so bad 😫]

As the first chords of the song rang through the stadium speakers, the members casually moved around the stage, each of them interacting with the fans in their own unique way. Seungkwan, ever the entertainer, exaggeratedly pointed at a fan holding a sign that read, “SEUNGKWAN MARRY ME,” before dramatically clutching his chest and pretending to swoon. Hoshi mimicked a fan’s dance moves, laughing as they tried to keep up with each other. Mingyu crouched at the edge of the stage, grinning as he reached out to accept a plushie from a fan, holding it up like a prized trophy.

Luna, standing near the center of the stage, swayed lightly to the rhythm as she sang, her gaze scanning the sea of fans. She occasionally waved and shot playful winks at the screaming crowd, her presence radiant yet effortlessly cool. Beside her, Jeonghan sang along, his voice smooth and melodic, but his attention drifted between the performance and teasing interactions with the fans.

[THEY ARE ALWAYS TOGETHER ITS ADORABLE]

When one particularly excited Carat in the front row jumped up and down waving her phone, Luna pointed at her and chuckled, mouthing, “Careful, don’t fall!”

[I feel for you already, miss thing]

After performing three songs, the members gathered at the front of the stage, slightly out of breath but all smiles. Joshua, always the composed and charming spokesperson, lifted his mic.

“Thank you all for coming to the soundcheck,” he said warmly, his voice carrying effortlessly over the speakers. “We can’t wait to see you all again when the show starts later. Make sure to save your energy, okay?”

“Drink water!” Luna chimed in, earning a wave of laughter from the crowd.

[*chugs a gallon of water*]

The members waved as the VIP section erupted into cheers, their voices blending into one chaotic yet affectionate roar. With that, the group began making their way toward the back of the stage, heading for the wings where they would disappear until the official concert began.

Even as they exited, the fans’ eyes remained locked on them, knowing that they could still be seen through the side openings of the stage. The members continued chatting amongst themselves, some throwing last-minute waves and finger hearts to the crowd as they disappeared from sight.

[HERE WE GO 🤭]

That was when it happened.

Jeonghan, walking beside Luna while talking animatedly to Joshua, swung his arm a little too far in his expressive storytelling— and hit Luna square in the stomach.

[honestly… HIT ME NEXT, JEONGHAN]

A collective gasp echoed from the crowd.

Luna stopped in her tracks, her body instinctively recoiling as she clutched her stomach, her face morphing into an exaggerated pout. Her wide eyes flickered up to Jeonghan, who had frozen mid-step, realization dawning upon him.

[Apologize to my pookie right now 🥺]

The fans could see it unfold in real-time— the exact moment he realized what he had done. His mouth parted slightly, and without a second thought, he moved toward her in a hurry.

[🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️]

The next thing they saw was Jeonghan wrapping his arms around Luna from behind, pulling her close as if to protect her from the very damage he had caused. His hands, gentle and warm, smoothed over the exposed skin of her midriff where her crop top left it bare, a silent apology written in the way his fingers traced soothing circles over the spot he had unintentionally hit.

[*malfunctions*]

[*passes out*]

[*squeals in JeongNa*]

The stadium erupted into screams.

If that wasn’t enough, what happened next sent the fans into an absolute frenzy.

Still holding Luna close, Jeonghan dipped his head down, his lips brushing against the crook of her neck once. Twice. Then a third time, as if sealing his apology with a kiss. Luna, though initially flustered, visibly relaxed in his hold, her lips parting into a small, knowing smile.

[WHATTHEFAWKKKKKKKMKKKKKK]

[THANK YOU TO WHOEVER FILMED THIS]

[THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE, OP 🫡]

[*plays that part again on a loop*]

Fans were screaming so loud now that their voices could probably be heard beyond the venue itself.

And the best part?

Jeonghan didn’t even seem to care.

His lips lingered near Luna’s ear for a second longer before he murmured something only she could hear, causing her to chuckle softly as they continued walking like that— Jeonghan’s arms still wrapped around her waist from behind, his hands resting comfortably on her stomach, their steps naturally falling in sync.

[MOM AND DAD?!!?! WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!?]

[JUST GET MARRIED ALREADY— oh wait… they are about to 🤭]

The two of them walked together like that until they finally disappeared from sight, leaving behind a stadium full of fans who were still reeling from what they had just witnessed.

[Another iconic JeongNa video in the bag]

“THIS SONG REMINDS ME OF HANNIE”

And now here we have, Mother Taylor doing us a service.

The dim glow of Luna’s hotel room in Japan cast a warm, intimate ambiance as she sat comfortably on the bed, propped up against the plush pillows with her phone in hand. The screen in front of her illuminated her face softly, the gentle hum of background music filling the otherwise quiet space.

She had been live on Weverse for a while now, casually chatting with fans, answering their questions, and occasionally laughing at the more amusing comments that scrolled past.

[Side note: she is glowing in this live… she always is, who am I kidding?]

Dressed in an oversized hoodie, her hair loosely tied back, Luna exuded a calm, cozy energy that made the live feel less like a formal interaction and more like a late-night conversation between close friends. The air felt easy, relaxed— just her, the fans, and the soothing music playing softly from her laptop.

At this point in the live, Luna had settled into a quieter rhythm. Instead of talking continuously, she had let the music take the forefront, reading through the flood of comments in comfortable silence. Every so often, she would read one aloud, her voice naturally soft yet engaging.

“‘Luna, did you eat already?’” she read, her gaze flickering up to the camera before nodding. “Mmm, yes. I had udon earlier. It was really good. I was craving something warm after practice.”

She continued scrolling, occasionally responding with small smiles and hums. The sound of the song playing through her phone wrapped around her like a gentle embrace, the melody soft and sentimental. It wasn’t until a particular comment caught her attention that she blinked and tilted her head slightly, a small flicker of recognition in her eyes.

[I LOVE THIS SONG EVEN MORE NOW 🥹]

“Oh—‘Jiyeonie, what song is playing?’” she read aloud, her lips curving into the faintest smile as she turned her attention back to the music.

For a moment, she simply listened, letting the familiar chords settle in her ears before answering.

“This is ‘Invisible String’ by Taylor Swift.”

Her voice was warm, unhurried, as if she were sharing a quiet secret. Leaning back against the pillows, she let the melody play a little longer before she continued, her tone carrying a sense of quiet admiration.

[HONESTLY, THIS SONG IS SO JEONGNA CODED]

“I love this song.” Her gaze remained fixed on the scrolling comments, reading them silently before she spoke again, her voice thoughtful. “It’s so… I don’t know how to describe it. It feels nostalgic, but comforting at the same time.”

She exhaled softly, her fingers absentmindedly tapping against the edge of her phone. There was a brief pause as if she were debating whether or not to say what was on her mind. And then, with a small, almost imperceptible smile, she added,

“This song reminds me of Hannie.”

[GAJNMAJEJEVEIBSKWNSGWUSBJSBWUSHAJ]

[THE SONG ABOUT THE INVISIBLE STING THEORY REMINDS JIYEON OF JEONGHAN!!!!!!!]

[GOODBYE–]

[THEY ARE SOULMATES INDEED]

The reaction was instant

The comments exploded in a frenzy of capital letters, exclamation points, and rapid-fire messages from fans losing their minds. The chat box scrolled at lightning speed, filled with variations of:

“LUNA PLEASE.”

“NOT INVISIBLE STRING LUNA DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS.”

“THIS SONG IS ABOUT SOULMATES ARE YOU SERIOUS?!?”

“BAE JIYEON I CAN’T BREATHE.”

“LUNA JUST SAID JEONGHAN IS HER INVISIBLE STRING EVERYONE STAY CALM.”

The sheer intensity of the fans’ reaction was almost comical, and Luna— fully aware of the chaos she had just caused— pressed her lips together, failing to suppress the amused smirk that tugged at her mouth.

[the smirk on her face says it all… she don’t care no more]

[SHE LOVES IT]

[THEY BOTH DO]

[JEONGNA ARE MENACES]

Luna didn’t say anything more, didn’t elaborate, but the look in her eyes spoke volumes. The soft, knowing expression, the way her fingers drummed against the back of her phone as she continued reading the comments, all of it hinted at a quiet amusement that she had expected this reaction.

[I KNOW DAMN WELL SHE CAN SEE THOSE COMMENTS AND SHE’S JUST OUT HERE SMIRKING]

And then, in a moment of effortless, almost unconscious sincerity, Luna’s voice rose gently over the melody as she sang along, her voice a soft murmur against the music.

“‘And isn’t it just so pretty to think…’” she sang, her tone light, delicate, as if she were singing purely for herself rather than for the thousands watching.

“‘All along there was an invisible string…’”

“‘Tying you to me~’”

[MOOOOOOOM IS SERENADING US]

[JEONGHAN, I MEAN. SHE IS SERENADING JEONGHAN]

[But seriously, we NEED a full cover]

Luna’s voice trailed off, fading into a quiet hum as she swayed slightly to the melody. The chat was still in shambles, a never-ending stream of reactions, but Luna only smiled, her expression unreadable yet undeniably warm.

She didn’t say anything else. She didn’t need to.

The music played on, her fingers absentmindedly scrolling through the comments as she hummed along, her thoughts drifting elsewhere— perhaps to a certain someone who, unbeknownst to the fans, was probably watching this very live at that very moment.

[AND YES, YOON JEONGHAN WAS INDEED WATCHING THE LIVE]

‘I HAVE LOVED YOU SINCE WE WERE 18’ ~

Since we’re already here…

More moment of Luna telling fans about songs that remind her of Yoon Jeonghan.

Idfk why we didn’t see know… THEY WERE BEING SO OBVIOUS!

The evening air in Paris carried a crisp chill, the soft golden glow of the hotel entrance casting long shadows across the cobblestone pavement. The soft hum of conversation mixed with the occasional shuffle of feet as a group of fans stood gathered outside, waiting for one last glimpse of Luna before she left for the airport.

Dressed in a sleek, oversized coat that draped effortlessly over her frame, Luna stepped out of the hotel lobby, her presence instantly drawing the attention of the crowd. The moment she appeared, a wave of excited murmurs rippled through the fans, followed by a chorus of greetings and camera shutters clicking in rapid succession.

[She is so European 🤩]

A warm smile graced her lips as she lifted a hand in greeting, fingers wiggling slightly in a playful wave. “Hello!” she greeted, voice carrying over the group. “How are you guys? Did you wait long?”

The fans eagerly responded, some shaking their heads, others calling out variations of, “We don’t mind!” and “We wanted to see you before you left!”

Luna’s gaze softened, touched by their dedication. Without hesitation, she stepped closer, carefully maneuvering past her team, who stood at a respectful distance, allowing her this brief moment with her fans.

[I WANT TO MEET HER 😞]

[she is just truly the sweetest]

She took her time— posing for selfies, signing albums and posters handed her way, and accepting small gifts wrapped in delicate ribbons. A plush bunny, a handwritten letter, a small bouquet of flowers— each one received with genuine gratitude as she murmured soft thanks to each fan.

“You guys are always so sweet. There is no need for all of this but thank you so much,” she said, adjusting the strap of her bag as she leaned in to sign another album.

[It’s what you deserve, Queen!]

The fans around her beamed, soaking in every second of the interaction. Despite the limited time, Luna made sure to acknowledge as many people as possible, meeting their eyes, sharing small jokes, and responding to their excited words with unwavering patience and warmth.

[Jiyeon always makes sure she has talked to everyone. It’s so endearing 🥹]

Eventually, as the last few fans remained, Luna reached for a poster being held out to her, her marker uncapping with a quiet click as she bent slightly to sign her name.

“Paris carats will miss you,” the fan holding the poster said earnestly, her voice tinged with both admiration and a hint of sadness.

Luna glanced up, eyes twinkling under the soft glow of the hotel lights. “I’ll miss you guys too,” she assured her, her tone gentle but certain. “I promise I’ll be back soon.”

The fan, who had been filming the moment along with many others around her, nodded excitedly. “You have to!” she insisted. “We’ll be waiting!”

Luna chuckled, nodding as she finished signing with a small flourish. “I will, I will.”

[The Europe air does something to her istg]

As she handed back the signed poster, the fan hesitated for a second before grinning. “Jeonghan’s birthday is in a few days,” she pointed out. “Do you have a gift for him?”

[Duh 💁‍♀️]

At that, Luna looked up, her hand still midair as she processed the question. A slow, playful smile curled on her lips before she nodded. “Of course,” she said, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

The fan leaned in slightly, eyes gleaming. “What is it?”

[Herself]

Luna let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “It’s a secret.” Her voice carried a teasing lilt, making the surrounding fans giggle in response.

“A secret?!” the fan whined dramatically.

Luna only shrugged, the smirk on her lips giving nothing away.

[She loves teasing istg]

[Bae Jiyeon enjoys torturing us]

The fan huffed before suddenly perking up with another question. “Okay, okay! If there was a song you’d dedicate to him for his birthday, what would it be?”

Luna barely hesitated before deadpanning, “‘Happy Birthday.’”

[SHE CRACKS ME UP 😂]

[She really said, “Girl, bffr, what other song would I dedicate on his birthday.”]

The fan let out a loud laugh, shaking her head. “Aside from that!”

Luna hummed, combing her fingers through her hair as she thought, “Hmm… I’ve been relistening to One Direction albums lately.”

The moment she said that, the fan gasped excitedly. “Really?! I love One Direction!”

Luna’s face brightened. “Really? Same! Their songs bring back so many memories.”

The fan nodded eagerly, urging her on. “Okay, okay! So which one?”

Luna paused for a second before tilting her head slightly. “I think… ‘18.’ It’s one of my favorites. It reminds me of Jeonghan, so probably that.”

[THAT SONGGGGGGG]

[‘I have loved you since we were eighteen’]

[AGHHHHHHHHHHHSBIEHSUWHAJNWKWB]

The reaction was instant— the fan let out a squeal of excitement, hands clutching her phone tightly as she processed Luna’s words. The surrounding fans echoed similar reactions, gasping, laughing, and whispering amongst themselves.

Luna smirked at their reaction before giving a small wave. “Alright, I have to go now,” she said, stepping back slightly. “Thank you all for coming! I’ll be back soon. Stay safe, okay?”

[She really answered that question, smirked because she caused a commotion, and then dipped as if nothing happened.]

[Icon behavior]

The fans waved frantically, voices overlapping as they called out their goodbyes. “Safe flight, Luna!” “We love you, Jiyeonie!” “Come back soon!”

Her bodyguard finally stepped forward, gently guiding her toward the waiting car. As she reached for the door, Luna glanced over her shoulder one last time, smiling at the sea of waving hands before slipping inside.

As the door closed behind her, the fans outside erupted into excited chatter, their cameras still recording, capturing every last moment of her departure.

THE INFAMOUS ALMOST CAUGHT CAR KISS (?)

Just this fucking video right here… just watch.

The air outside the SBS building was thick with excitement, the energy of the crowd buzzing like static in the cool night. Lined up neatly along the curb, a fleet of black vans awaited their passengers— SEVENTEEN, fresh off their Inkigayo performance, now finally off the clock and heading home.

[Side note: ‘Super’ might be my fave stage outfits]

Beyond the barricades, fans stood shoulder to shoulder, their cheers rising in pitch as they caught glimpses of idols making their way out. Media personnel crowded the front, cameras poised, ready to capture every moment of the artists departing. The bright flashes of cameras flickered like lightning against the night, illuminating the scene in rapid bursts.

And then, the commotion intensified.

SEVENTEEN had finally emerged from the building, now dressed in their own comfortable clothes rather than their elaborate stage outfits. Though exhaustion clung to their post-performance bodies, their faces still carried that familiar warmth as they acknowledged the sea of fans waiting for them.

“SEVENTEEN! SEVENTEEN!” The fans screamed, voices overlapping as they called out each of the members’ names.

[Icons doing iconic shit]

Luna and Jeonghan were among the first to step outside. Luna, wrapped in an oversized zip-up hoodie with the hood resting against her back, lifted a hand in greeting, a soft, dimpled smile gracing her lips. She bowed politely, waving towards the cameras and the fans alike.

[She’s so smol 🥹 (she’s taller than me)]

[I wanna keep her in my pocket and take care of her]

Jeonghan trailed behind her, dressed in a loose-knit sweater and black jeans, his long black hair slightly tousled from the hours spent on stage. His eyes crinkled in a quiet smile as he too waved, effortlessly charming as he dipped his head in greeting.

The screams intensified.

[They are so hot]

[They just look good together yk]

[They. Just. Make. Sense. Together.]

“LUNA! JEONGHAN! OVER HERE!”

“JIYEON-AH, I LOVE YOU!”

“HANNIE! YOU LOOK SO HANDSOME!”

The energy was infectious. As Luna and Jeonghan made their way towards their designated van, Luna took her time, sending small finger hearts toward the fans, mouthing silent “thank yous” to those who shouted words of encouragement. The bright lights of the cameras danced in her vision, but her attention remained on the fans, her steps slow and intentional, as if she wasn’t quite ready to leave yet.

[She loves us so much]

Jeonghan, however, had already reached their van first. With the door now open, he turned back, watching as Luna lingered for a moment longer, engaging with the fans.

[Han waiting for her 🥹 I’m so soft for them]

Then, in one swift, playful motion after debating, Luna reached out and plucked a plushie from the hands of a fan reaching over the barricade— a soft, brown teddy bear.

“OH MY GOD, SHE TOOK IT! JIYEON-AH! I LOVE YOU!”

The fan gasped, clutching onto their friends as a high-pitched scream escaped them. The surrounding fans erupted into excited shrieks, their hands flying to their mouths as they processed the interaction.

[Honestly same]

[Bae Jiyeon can snatch my arm right out the socket and I’d cry in happiness]

Jeonghan, still standing by the open van door, chuckled at the scene unfolding before him. His grin stretched lazily across his face as he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, simply watching her antics with amusement.

[‘A man. A man. A man. A maAaAnN’ ~]

Luna shot one last wave toward the crowd before finally making her way over, clutching the plushie to her chest. As she approached, Jeonghan— ever the gentleman— lifted a hand to the top of the car’s frame, ensuring she wouldn’t accidentally hit her head as she stepped inside. She slid in with ease, murmuring a soft thank you under her breath before settling into the seat.

[WHEN WILL IT BE MY TURN?!?]

[YOON JEONGHAN THE MAN THAT YOU ARE 🧎‍♀️]

With a final glance toward the crowd, the two of them waved once more before Jeonghan followed suit, stepping into the van. The door shut behind them, muffling the sounds of the screaming fans just outside.

[And so it begins…]

[Buckle up, ladies and gentlemen]

Though the outside world had been shut out, the interior lights of the van were still on, casting a soft, golden glow inside. The thick, black curtains that usually shielded them from the outside were slightly pushed open, leaving just enough space for the fans to get a glimpse inside.

[This is the universe showing us that it is a JeongNa shipper as well 😝]

And what fans saw made their hearts nearly stop.

Luna and Jeonghan sat side by side, both leaned back comfortably in their seats, facing each other as they engaged in quiet conversation. Though the details of their words couldn’t be heard, the way they looked at each other spoke volumes.

[Fucking adorable]

“Oh my god, look at them—”

“JEONGHAN IS JUST STARING AT HER—”

Through the slight gap in the curtains, it was evident that Luna was saying something animatedly, her hands moving slightly as she spoke. But Jeonghan… he was quiet. Just gazing at her with that small, lazy smile that never quite left his lips, his eyes half-lidded with exhaustion, but still holding that familiar warmth.

[JEONGHAN! MY DUDE! CHILLLLLLL!!!]

Then, without warning, Luna lifted the teddy bear she was given earlier, holding it up as if inspecting it. Then, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, she made the plushie walk across Jeonghan’s chest, bouncing lightly as if it had little feet.

[IT’S SO FLUFFY I’M GONNA DIE! (I’m talking about Luna not the teddy 😊)]

The fans outside watching could see Jeonghan chuckle, his head tipping back slightly as his shoulders shook with silent laughter.

Then, Luna moved the plushie again, this time making it lean in and kiss Jeonghan’s cheek.

The fans lost it.

“JIYEONIE IS SO CUTE—”

“SHE MADE THE TEDDY KISS HIM I’M GOING TO SCREAM—”

[Same]

Jeonghan only shook his head, reaching out lazily to poke the plushie before turning his attention back to her, their conversation continuing in hushed tones.

But then— something changed.

[Here. We. Fucking. Go.]

Jeonghan lifted a hand, his fingers reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Luna’s ear, his movements slow, deliberate.

The fans watching held their breath.

Then, slowly, he began to lean in.

[MY PRONOUNS ARE J.E.O.N.G.N.A RAHHHH 🦅]

Luna, mid-sentence, suddenly shifted. Her eyes darted toward the window— the small opening in the curtain— and her breath caught. Her expression flickered for just a moment before her eyes widened slightly in realization.

The fans saw the exact moment it happened.

“WAIT SHE NOTICED US—”

[Yeah no shit 😩]

[I wanted to see them kisssssss]

Luna quickly pulled back, her lips parting as she lifted a hand and subtly pointed toward the overhead light.

Jeonghan, noticing her shift, stopped just before closing the space between them. Instead of pulling away, he simply turned his head, following her gaze toward the window.

[He don’t care, gurl… just kiss him already!]

For a brief moment, the fans were able to see his expression— curious, then amused. Then, as if fully processing the situation, his lips curled into a smirk.

[THAT. DAMN. SMIRK. YOON JEONGHAN]

And then— he reached up, fingers flicking the light switch off.

Darkness.

Before the fans could even react, his other hand moved, gripping the curtain —and with one smooth motion, he pulled it shut.

That was the last thing they saw.

[HOW MUCH YA’LL WANNA BET HE MADE OUT WITH HER RIGHT AFTER?!? I BET EVERYTHING I OWN!!]

Were they about to kiss? Or was he simply going to whisper something?

A mystery to this day.

The fans outside erupted.

“WHAT THE HELL DID WE JUST WITNESS?!”

“I CAN’T BREATHE—”

[Same]

“JEONGHAN SMIRKED. HE KNEW. HE KNEW.”

[He knew and he didn’t care]

[Wasn’t even phased]

“THE WAY HE JUST CLOSED THE CURTAIN AND TURNED OFF THE LIGHT I’M ACTUALLY SICK.”

[Same pt. 1563]

The screams carried on, the energy electric, as theories and speculations ran wild through the crowd. And with that, the van pulled away from the curb, disappearing into the Seoul night.

KISSING SOUNDS (?) ON JEONGHAN’S LIVE + LUNA’S APPEARANCE

Here we have another moment where I am a hundred percent sure they were kissing.

THEY MAKE ME GO INSANE!!!

Just LISTEN closely!

The night was quiet, the only sounds in the dimly lit room being the soft hum of the air conditioning and the occasional rustle of the blankets.

Jeonghan lay comfortably on his back, his phone resting on his chest as he spoke to the thousands of fans tuned into his live. This wasn’t a traditional broadcast— no bright lights, no setup. It was a ‘voice only’ live— just his voice filling the space as fans listened in, his words casual and unhurried, carrying the weight of exhaustion from the long day.

[THIS VOICE ONLY LIVE IS ONE OF MY ABSOLUTE FAVES]

[Jeonghan’s voice ugh 😩]

Unbeknownst to the listeners, Luna was beside him, nestled under the covers, her body curled slightly toward him as she drifted between sleep and wakefulness. She had fallen asleep to the sound of his voice, the quiet lull of his speech acting as a soothing rhythm.

Jeonghan knew she was tired, the kind of exhaustion that seeped into her bones, and he hadn’t minded when she tugged at his sleeve earlier before he started the live, mumbling something incoherent before settling against his side. She barely stirred now, her breaths slow and steady, the warmth of her body pressed gently against his.

Jeonghan continued talking, his voice lower than usual, careful not to disturb her. “Ah, that’s funny,” he murmured, reading the flood of comments appearing on his screen. “No, I don’t have any snacks with me right now… Should I get something? Ah, but I’m too comfortable to move.”

The chat scrolled rapidly, fans reacting to his words in real-time. He lazily skimmed through them, his thumb scrolling up and down at a sluggish pace. Then, suddenly— acomment caught his eye.

He blinked, rereading it, and then— laughter.

A real, unrestrained laugh burst from his lips, much louder than he had intended. The noise cut through the quiet air, startling even himself.

[He has the prettiest laughs]

[MY GOD 🧎‍♀️]

[I have used this 🧎‍♀️ emoji one too many times… but that’s how I honestly feel.]

[🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️]

And, unfortunately, his laugh also startled Luna.

Beside him, she jolted slightly, her brows knitting together as a soft, disoriented hum left her lips. She shifted, her fingers weakly gripping at the fabric of his sweater as if grounding herself from the sudden disturbance.

Jeonghan immediately turned his head toward her, guilt flashing in his eyes. His laughter faded into a breathy chuckle as he mouthed, “Sorry.”

Luna blinked up at him through heavy-lidded eyes, barely registering what had happened. She let out a sleepy sigh, nodding sluggishly before snuggling closer, her face pressing against the warmth of his shoulder.

Jeonghan felt something in his chest tighten at the sight. The way she looked— soft, half-asleep, and utterly vulnerable— made his heart ache in a way he couldn’t explain.

Still feeling sorry for waking her, he lifted a single finger and gently tilted her chin up. She barely resisted, her drowsy gaze meeting his for just a second before he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

She sighed into the touch, her body relaxing even further. The kiss was brief— but it was enough to silently convey what he couldn’t say out loud in that moment.

[LISTENNNNNNNN?!?]

From the fans’ point of view, all they heard was the sudden silence following Jeonghan’s laughter. A pause, a shuffle of movement, and then— a sound.

Something.

A light, fleeting noise— soft but unmistakable.

It wasn’t clear. It wasn’t obvious.

But it was something.

A smack? A wet sound? A kiss?

[THAT WAS A KISS, GOODBYE–]

The chat exploded.

“What was that sound?!”

“YOON JEONGHAN. EXPLAIN YOURSELF?!?”

“OH MY GOD DID HE JUST—”

“He’s not talking. He knows what he did!!”

[I WAS WATCHING THIS LIVE AND IT WAS INSANE!!]

The chaos in the comments went unnoticed by Jeonghan for a brief moment as he pulled back, watching Luna nuzzle into his shoulder once more, her breathing evening out again.

A soft smile tugged at his lips as he returned his focus to the phone and in his moment of distraction, he accidentally tapped the screen.

The camera turned on.

For a split second, the fans were no longer just listening to his voice.

They saw him.

And more importantly— they saw her.

Luna, lying right next to him, her face partially buried against his shoulder, her expression still soft with sleep.

[PEEK-A-FUCKING-BOO]

[Imagine how psycho we were theorizing about him possibly kissing some random person then BOOM Bae Jiyeon laying next to him]

[I CANNOT MAKE THIS SHIT UP?!?]

[IDK WHY WE WERE SO SHOCKED WHEN THEY CONFIRMED THEIR RELATIONSHIP?! IT WAS RIGHT HERE ALL ALONG!!]

The reaction in the comments were instantaneous.

“OH MY GOD???”

“LUNA????”

“JEONGHAN?! JIYEON?! WTF?!”

“WE CAUGHT YOU. WE ALL SAW.”

The realization hit Jeonghan at the same time Luna processed what had happened.

Her eyes widened slightly, a delayed reaction, before she made a sound that was almost a whimper of embarrassment. Quickly, she turned away, covering her face with the sleeve of her hoodie as she scooted just out of the frame, her body half disappearing from view.

[Gurl…. We all saw you]

Jeonghan, unfazed, only chuckled, his lips quirking into an amused smile as he reached up and tapped the screen again, turning the camera back off.

[HE 👏 DOES 👏 NOT 👏 GIVE 👏 A 👏 DAMN 👏]

“YOU CAN’T JUST PRETEND THAT DIDN’T HAPPEN.”

“JEONGHAN WE ALL SAW HER.”

“THIS IS INSANE I NEED TO LAY DOWN.”

Jeonghan let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Well,” he mused before turning the camera back on, “you might as well say hi now. They already saw you.”

Luna, still curled into herself, let out a muffled groan before slowly peeking out from her hoodie. She glanced toward his phone, her voice raspy with sleep as she mumbled, “Hi.”

[Shes’s adorable 🥹]

The chat erupted.

“SHE’S SO CUTE PLEASE.”

“She looks so sleepy I’m going to cry.”

“YOU GUYS TWO ARE ACTUALLY INSANE.”

Jeonghan grinned, his tone light. “She was sleeping,” he explained, “but I accidentally woke her up.” He conveniently left out the part where they had, in fact, been kissing.

[“… and kissed her.”]

And just like that, the mystery of that sound would remain unsolved.

“THE EYES, CHICO, THEY NEVER LIE”

Ending this video with this cute footage of them in the background of a behind the scene clip.

This video has a special place in my heart just because of the way they look at each other.

Enjoy!

The gymnasium was vast, its polished floors gleaming under the harsh, fluorescent lights overhead. The room was buzzing with activity as SEVENTEEN and their dancers milled around during their break, bodies moving in various states of exhaustion and playfulness.

Some members were still running through choreography, muscle memory guiding their motions even as their breaths came in short, measured exhales. Others were sprawled out on the floor, limbs stretched as they tried to catch their breath, sweat glistening on their skin. A few wandered around, chatting, hydrating, and indulging in lighthearted banter, their voices echoing through the open space.

[THIS DANCE PRACTICE IS ✨SUPERIOR✨]

The behind-the-scenes camera was currently focused on Hoshi, who stood in the middle of the gym, slightly out of breath but still beaming as he spoke animatedly to the lens. His hands gestured wildly as he explained the intensity of their practice, the difficulty of the ‘Super’ choreography, and how important synchronization was with such a large group.

However, in the background, a quieter scene unfolded by the bleachers.

[I love you Hoshi but I was focused on JeongNa at the back]

Luna sat there, crouched down with her knees hugged loosely to her chest, sipping on a water bottle as she watched the members goofing around. Her hair was slightly damp from sweat, her face glowing from the rigorous practice, but her expression was relaxed, her lips curling faintly as she observed the chaos around her. Her gaze flitted from member to member, watching them in their own worlds— Dino playfully shoving Mingyu, Seungkwan dramatically collapsing onto a bench, Woozi stretching out his sore muscles.

[She’s adorable 🥹 pt. 164367]

And then, movement caught the camera’s eye.

Jeonghan.

He approached her with a slow, unhurried pace, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his sweatpants, his gaze never leaving her. There was something effortless about the way he moved, like he wasn’t walking toward her so much as he was being pulled there naturally, as if his body was drawn to hers without conscious thought.

[HE– no comment.]

Reaching the bleachers, Jeonghan stopped just in front of Luna, looking up at her with that signature, knowing smirk playing on his lips. Since she was sitting on the elevated bench, their height difference was reversed— he had to tilt his head slightly to meet her gaze while she looked down at him.

Without a word, he lifted his arms and placed his hands on either side of her, palms pressing against the cool metal of the bleacher seat, effectively caging her in. His arms formed a loose barrier, not restrictive, not confining— but there was a certain intimacy in the way he leaned in, closing the space between them just enough that their conversation felt like it existed in its own little world, separate from the bustling gym.

[I love them together. It is not even funny anymore.]

Luna’s reaction was immediate.

A soft, dimpled smile appeared on her face, the corners of her lips curving naturally as she gazed down at him. There was a warmth in her expression, her features softening in a way that was almost imperceptible yet impossible to ignore. She looked at him like she had been waiting for him to come over, like his presence was something expected yet still delightful.

And Jeonghan—bhe was looking at her the exact same way. His lips were curled into a quiet grin, his eyes twinkling with that familiar mix of amusement and affection.

[The way they are looking at each other 🥹]

[they love each other.]

They exchanged words, their voices too quiet to be picked up by the microphone, but their body language spoke volumes.

The way Luna’s shoulders relaxed as she spoke softly, the gentle tilt of her head, the way her fingers absentmindedly toyed with the cap of her water bottle. The way Jeonghan listened— his gaze locked onto hers, his smile widening at something she said, his eyes never straying from her face.

There was a brief moment where Luna’s eyes sparkled— an unfiltered joy flickering through them as she spoke, something playful and lighthearted passing her lips. Jeonghan’s response was a low chuckle, his shoulders shaking slightly as he dipped his head for just a second before lifting it again to meet her gaze.

[‘The look of love, the rush of blood’ ~]

And then, silence.

Not an awkward one, not one filled with hesitation— but a moment suspended in time, where they simply looked at each other.

[I pray a love like this find me 🙏]

Luna’s fingers stilled against the water bottle, and her smile softened, turning quieter, more intimate.

Jeonghan’s expression mirrored hers, his grin gentling, his head tilting just slightly as if taking her in.

[The way they are just looking at each orher so lovingly and smiling]

[They are each other’s safe place]

The camera, though focused on Hoshi, couldn’t help but capture this small, quiet exchange in the background. It was fleeting, just a moment in between the energy of their practice, but it was real. A glimpse into something genuine, something unspoken, something effortless.

And though they were surrounded by people, it felt, just for that moment, like they were the only two in the room.

There you have it folks, just a handful of moments where JeongNa either exposed themselves or nearly got caught.

Cannot believe we had the audacity to act surprised when the confirmation came out. Like—HELLO? HELLO?? Were we watching two different people this entire time? Because they were not hiding. At all. Not even a little bit.

If anything, they were gaslighting us into thinking we were delusional when in reality, we were just blind. Stupid. Clowning ourselves daily.

They really sat there, in broad daylight, touching, flirting, giggling, eye contacting, ALMOST KISSING, and we just… brushed it off? We deserved to be lied to. Honestly. Because HOW did we not see it??

At this point, I’m convinced they weren’t hiding at all. They were just playing a game of ‘How Much Can We Get Away With Before They Notice?’ And guess what? THEY WON. BECAUSE WE DIDN’T NOTICE UNTIL THEY TOLD US.

But in all seriousness, I love them. I love them so much. The way they look at each other, the way they care for each other— it’s just so genuine. And honestly? That’s all that matters. So yeah, we were dumb. But at least now we can openly scream about it. And I, for one, am never shutting up about them. Ever.

Congratulations to Luna and Jeonghan. You won. We lost. And we couldn’t be happier about it.

Till the next video! Toodleloo!

comments…

@/lunababybae • 1 day ago ╰ We were played. We were played good. But then again why am I surprised?! These two are the aces of GoSe 😝

@/rinarieee • 1 day ago ╰ I for one have been shipping them since the fucking beginning… just had a feeling they were made for each other. You can call me Cupid!

@/gyusshadow • 1 day ago ╰ LOVE LOVE LOVE YOUR VIDEOS AS USUAL! You are hilarious 😂

@/moonbae17 • 1 day ago ╰ the way they were both clearly describing each other is what gets me every time 2:16 🤭💖

@/saluttteee_17 • 1 day ago ╰ THE WAY JEONGHAN JUST SMIRKS EVERY TIME THEY SLIP UP IS CRAZY ATTRACTIVE. HE IS A MENACE!!

@/mad-lineeee • 1 day ago ╰ the way Hannie looked at Luna 3:30 before he rants about what his type is

@/mrsbaebae • 1 day ago ╰ I have said it once and I will say it again… YOON JEONGHAN SEEMS TO BE AN AMAZING KISSER 🫠

@/alyy1625 • 1 day ago ╰ 5:45 DAMN 🥵 Han loves kissing her neck. He did this a few times to her in Game Caterers

@/jeongnanana • 1 day ago ╰ I am proud to say that I was at that soundcheck and we were all losing our minds over those two 🤭

@/gyuuuuudaily• 1 day ago ╰ invisible string and 18 are so their songs!

@/lunaticforluna• 1 day ago ╰ Jiyeon always dedicates songs for the guys but mostly Hannie and she never misses.

@/lulu-nana17• 1 day ago ╰ 8:03 her smile when she was singing Invisible String 😭 ik she felt that in her bones

@/sebongrighthere • 1 day ago ╰ THE. WAY. THEY. STARE. AT. EACH. OTHER.

@/missbitchhhh • 1 day ago ╰ Gurl you crack me up with the captions and your commentary 😂

@/shadowmyshadow• 1 day ago ╰ JEONGNA IN THAT DAMN VAN ALMOST KISSING WAS AND IS MY ROMAN EMPIRE

@/angel7266 • 1 day ago ╰ 11:30 JEONGHAN SMIRKING BEFORE TURNING THE LIGHTS OFF AND SHUTTING THE BLINDS?! IK THEY MADE OUT IN THERE!:₱/?)/

@/hannnieeeee7251 • 1 day ago ╰ 10:55 just me and Jeonghan being soft for Luna playing with a teddy bear

@/user763816262 • 1 day ago ╰ carats’ reaction as they watched JeongNa is the car 😂

@/ashonashonash_ • 1 day ago ╰ Hannie’s live till this day makes me giggle because it was so obvious they were kissing 🤭

@/jijijiyeonienie • 1 day ago ╰ that clip of JeongNa at the background while Hoshi was speaking to the camera was so wholesome. You can clearly tell how much they adore and love each other. It’s adorable and anyone who says otherwise are liars.

ೃ⁀➷ comment or message me to be added to the tag list :)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ SUBMIT A REQUEST AND ASK ME ANYTHING!

: ̗̀➛ requests are always open ♡ - lunaఌ

Taglist: @yeoberryx @minminghao @angie-x3 @jennwonwoo @k13endall @heeseungthel0ml @chisskaa @megumi2020 @yoonzzziino @lllucere @smh-anon @yveclipse @randomworker @bunnystrm @iamawkwardandshy @gratefulbunny1 @bmo-bri @syren-ash @megseungmin @multiplums @unlikelysublimekryptonite @night-storm7 @cookiearmy @seokqt @btskzfav @billboard-singer @junhuisworld @caturdayvibe @coralbatlampzonk @sof1eya @lyraea @jihoonsbbygirl @cocopuff2424 @okoknotco @minvxq @soulphoenix1618 @whineywheeiny @rairaine @toplinehyunjin @ateez-atiny380 @cherrylovescheol @jiimtaee @blurr3db3rry @seomisaho @amanda08319 @peanutbutterslothsstuff @cheolsboo @allthings-fandoms @mystic-megumi @sherlockbye @tastyluvr @luperque @reignofraine @kpoplover-19 @star2013

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infiniteglitterfall · 3 days ago

Text

Incorrect.

Happy 50th anniversary to the first article that came up when I googled "'transsexual lesbian' 1974."

(I picked a year at random, and searched for transsexual instead of trans because nobody was using trans as shorthand back then.)

Gay Community News.

February 22, 1975

"The Lesbian/Transsexual Misunderstanding."

By Margo. (Illustrated by a large grayscale photo of a long-haired lesbian doing a sort of show-offy squat pose in a pleated floor-length maxi skirt. actually she might be sitting on a stool we can't see, idk my image processing skills are crap. The photo is captioned, "This is Margo!" I'm going to bold things here and there for emphasis and easier reading; the original just bolded the beginnings of some paragraphs for easier reading.)

Being both a radical Lesbian and a male-to-female transsexual, I find myself at a vortex of conflict between the Lesbian and transsexual communities. In my more pessimistic moments, I sometimes feel as if the whole Lesbian community is down on me for being transsexual, and vice versa; in my more optimistic moments, I feel like writing articles like this one.

Although a few people have made Lesbian/transsexual controversies an arena for sheer hatred and bigotry, my hope is that honest misunderstandings between the overlapping Lesbian and transsexual communities are at the root of most problems.

To begin with, I myself as a Lesbian feminist have observed a great deal of sexism and heterosexual chauvinism among male-to-female transsexuals which must be upsetting to any Lesbian or even any straight feminist.

For example, Jan Morris (on the Dick Cavett Show) spoke about the "tragic" case of a male-to-female transsexual who desired Lesbian relationships after surgery: Cavett commented that the idea of a transsexual choosing Lesbianism was just too confusing to discuss further. As a Lesbian who considers love between women to be simple and very natural, I was depressed and angry.

Yet often transsexuals on television and other media make Ms. Morris seem feminist. They extol home and family as the essence of femaleness, reject gayness as immoral or unnatural, and define themselves in relationship men. When I hear such interviews, I find myself virtually crawling up a wall; it does not surprise me that other Lesbian women react in the same way.

At the same time, I have experienced a great deal of pain from the conduct of some Lesbians toward me as a transsexual. The dilemmas I face are almost identical to those faced by Lesbians in the feminist movement a few years ago. If I proclaim my transsexualism, I will be perceived as separating myself from my natively female Lesbian sisters; if I say nothing unless and until I am asked, I will be judged as hiding some vile secret.

Last year I became involved with a group of Lesbian anarchists; I was immediately accepted as myself, a very freaky Lesbian. Then, at the beginning of the next meeting, everyone froze toward me; I had become a "problem" to them, as Lesbians were a problem for straight feminists not so long ago. "Was it true?", they asked in so many words, as if this were the Fifties and I was rumored to be a former Communist. In the end I won at least temporary acceptance; but I did so by apologizing for rather than celebrating my struggle of 22 years to become the woman I felt was me.

On another occasion I was at a feminist bar, where I met a woman who did not know me but who had put down Lesbian transsexuals in general. We got along well; she related to me simply as a Lesbian woman (which I am), and I discovered that she also was a sensitive human being. Yet I was haunted by the feeling that if she knew my past she would probably have rejected me, even at the same time as felt that my past should be irrelevant.

It is like being Gay in a job situation where the boss does not know. You are not hiding it, you are just being your natural self; but you wonder how the boss would react if she/he knew. There is a strange closety tension about it all. Can I feel comfortable among other Lesbians who accept me as the real person I am, but would reject me if they knew how I got there?

At this point in time there are many transsexuals who would throw Lesbians to the patriarchal wolves as long as they could live in their desired submissive "feminine" roles; there are some Lesbians who would ignore or even trample over transsexuals if this served their neat and rigid "revolutionary" plans. I would like to explore why it is that transsexuals ignore or even ridicule Lesbians and vice versa, but first we must deal with some aspects of human sexuality which are often confused.

In discussions of both gayness and transsexualism, there are three concepts which often get tangled or confused. First, there is one's overall feeling of being female or male, which I will refer to as gender identity. Secondly, there is one's preference in forming intense love relationships for one or both sexes (or even for a compatible human being regardless of sex), which I will call sexual preference, although I might prefer the term "amatory" preference in order to stress the element of love whether or not it is genitally expressed (more on this later). Finally, there is one's conformity or defiance (or simple ignoring) of sex roles, the arbitrary sexist definitions of what is supposed to be "feminine" or "masculine."

To begin with, many confuse gender identity with sex roles; and such confusion makes it impossible to understand transsexualisin. Perhaps I can make the distinction clear by considering a situation which many natively female Lesbians experience.

A radical feminist may challenge all sex roles: she may joyously celebrate her "masculine" strengths: she may repudiate all patriarchal definitions of what it means to be a woman; yet she still feels that she is female, and that all women are her sisters. Let us refer to this total affirmative feeling as femaleness.

In contrast, the patriarchal system speaks of femininity; this means being submissive, being a sex object, and above all being attractive to men rather than to oneself or one's sisters. Thus radical feminism means celebrating femaleness (sisterhood, women's culture, etc.) in our own terms while rejecting all sex role barriers (e.g. accepting both sensitivity and strength while rejecting both submission and domination).

I have found that living as a woman full-time for the past 16 months, celebrating my femaleness, has made me much stronger and more "masculine" in many ways. Musically, I find myself belting out some very gutsy Blues which border on screaming; I find this one of the heaviest expressions of my femaleness and Lesbianism. Recently a gay male at a coffeehouse called me a diesel dyke; I thanked him for letting me know that I have character!

In other words, as radical feminists we feel a deep sense of being women and sisters, but this feeling is beyond any definition or stereotype. This is true of us whether we are natively female or transsexual. We all face the same paradoxes and dilemmas. Once this is understood, a lot of Lesbian/transsexual tension may suddenly vanish.

Sometimes feminists have asked me why, if I consider sex roles both unjust and ridiculous, do I not just live as a man and express both my "feminine" and my "masculine" qualities in that way? In doing this they are assuming that somehow I have chosen to be a woman so that I can be "feminine."

In fact, I have chosen to live as a woman simply because that is what I am, and because only by affirming my femaleness and sisterhood with all women can I be myself, strong and filled with energy as well as sensitive. How would these feminists feel about living as men? Obviously they would consider it a masquerade, and would demand their right to celebrate their femaleness. So do I.

Moving to another confusion which many Gay people have battled against, gender identity must not be confused with sexual preference. Lesbians (as opposed to female-to-male transsexuals) are not biological females who have a male gender identity: they are simply women who love other women. Gay men (as opposed to male-to-female transsexuals) are not biological males who have female gender identities, but are men who love men.

People who are trapped in the het trip often find it contradictory for me to be transsexual and Lesbian, because they assume that to be a woman is to love men and vice versa. Thus my parents alternately would suggest that the main reason I wanted the change was to relate in straight ways to men; or, they would argue that if I were going to relate to women, why do I need to be a woman myself. My parents are two of the best meaning straights I have met, but I guess that they are still a bit confused.

However, there is no reason that my situation need be confusing to Gay people. Regardless of my native genitals, I feel myself to be a woman who loves women, or simply a Lesbian. As I wrote above, I consider love between women to be a natural thing, whether the women are native or transsexual. The problem is that sometimes even Gay people apply het logic to transsexuals: and I would say that a great majority of male-to-female transsexuals apply het logic to themselves and everyone else. For example, I read an interview in which a transsexual defined Lesbians as "women who want to be men. If I had been at that interview. I would have had some interesting comments to make!

Finally, of course, sexual preference is different from any stereotyped adherence to sex roles. We all know that gay and straight people cannot be separated in general on the basis of sex role behavior: even more importantly, we are struggling to get totally away from the butch/femme trip. For me, being a Lesbian woman means being both strong and sensitive, for love requires both qualities.

Unfortunately, my sister Lesbians sometimes hold anti-transsexual attitudes. By anti-transsexual attitudes, I mean prejudices which would exclude from the Lesbian movement those transsexuals who are living full-time as women, and would exclude them for any reason which would not equally exclude their native sisters. Opposition to sexism in any people, including both transsexuals and Lesbians, is of course necessary! Anti-transsexualism does not refer to this kind of opposition. Rather it refers to prejudice and exclusion directed against transsexuals as a category.

Before analyzing the reasons for anti-transsexualism among Lesbians, I feel it necessary to challenge one argument against even raising this issue: unfortunately, it is an argument which has gained currency in the Gay/feminist press in Boston.

According to this argument, the discussion of transsexualism causes disagreement in the Lesbian movement; and, after all, how many Lesbian transsexuals are there? The conclusion is that the suffering of a few strange people can and should be put safely aside until "after the revolution.

Further, it is sometimes even argued that transsexuals must take the responsibility for this dissension among their native Lesbian sisters; to use the favorite macho-radical phrase, transsexuals "are objectively counter-revolutionary" because they are distracting their native sisters from much more important things. I have been given this argument not only in print but in person.

In the year 1862, a number of Blacks met with President Lincoln to demand emancipation of the slaves. Lincoln replied that the important thing was preserving the Union, with or without slavery. Further, he argued that the slaves and Black people generally, were responsible for the Civil War, since without them there would be nothing for white people to fight about!

In the early 1960's, during a peace march in the American South, it was argued that segregation should not be raised as an issue, since that would alienate the white population of the region from joining in the struggle against nuclear war. After the world was saved, some people argued, then Jim Crow could be tackled.

Later in that decade, when women first demanded their rights in the male-dominated Left movements, they were put down: after all, women did not constitute a class or oppressed group, according to the going macho ideological definitions.

Little things like feminism could be dealt with after the working class (or Third World or whatever) was liberated. Further, women who demanded their own freedom were accused of being counter-revolutionary, since they were causing division and conflict among their male comrades.

At about the same time, Gay people were also accused of being "bourgeois decadents;" furthermore, they were obviously capitalist agents who would even stoop so low as to challenge the revolutionary government of Cuba for a few minor imprisonments of homosexual perverts.

Last but not least, around 1969 and 1970 straight feminists attacked Lesbians for "dividing the movement" and for raising issues "irrelevant to the majority of women, irrelevant to the main focus of our movement." Betty Friedan went so far as to call Lesbians "the Lavender Menace," and to suggest that Lesbians were CIA agents sent to disrupt the respectable feminist movement.

Thus it is not surprising that transsexuals should be treated in the same way that Blacks, women, gay people, and Lesbians specifically have been treated, and all in the name of "revolution." We also note that whites, men, and straights find it easier to postpone other people's liberation in the name of radicalism than to confront their own prejudices now. All Lesbians (transsexual and native) should reject this logic of slavery and hypocrisy, and all transsexuals who respect themselves should challenge it aggressively and without hesitation or apology.

At the Congress to Unite Women in 1970, the straight feminists in charge blocked a workshop on Lesbianism. About 20 Lesbians staged a nonviolent takeover of the Congress, in which they humorously and effectively presented the justice of their cause. They demanded that women be united by supporting Lesbian liberation rather than by ignoring or denouncing it. The time has come to unite women regardless of native genitals, and to unite them by all nonviolent means necessary.

Now we come to the specific reasons for anti-transsexualism in the Lesbian community. Of course, one reason is the very genuine mood of anti-Lesbianism among many transsexuals. It is important that we as Lesbians, avoid the classic prejudicial practice of judging all the members of a group by the actions of some.

However, coming to the other reasons. we find that misinformation and outdated sexist attitudes are crucial. The causes are basically: 1. Misinformation about transsexualism; 2. Overly narrow concepts of Lesbianism; 3. Misguided notions of polarization in the Lesbian/feminist struggle; and 4. Clinging to patriarchal definitions of sex and gender.

(This is not the end. Look for more of Margo in future issues.)

And here's a close-up of the sidebar, transcribed in alt text:

#trans history #i still remember people using “tv ts cd” in the 1990s #long post

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sreegs · 2 days ago

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adding a tw for suicide mention

pessimism is going to kill you. earlier in my life, i came extremely close to killing myself because of an obsessive spiral about how bad things are. before that i didnt think i'd make it to 33

pessimism is a defense mechanism. if you feel like you know how bad it is and how bad it's going to be, then you know better. you feel like you're right. it doesn't work that way though, because even if you end up being right, you don't feel better when that happens

it feels impossible to be an optimist, but it's better to try. you don't have to imagine everything will turn out perfect, you just don't have to give in to obsessions over what might go wrong.

shit's bad right now. i cannot say what will happen. i cannot say everything will be ok. but i can tell you that if you hold on you will make it through. i can tell you that no time in the past did everyone give up and roll over and let the world end

people find ways to carve out joy in the worst of times. people find ways to survive. we always do. if the people who came before you did it, so can you.

there's no shortcut to pushing back against pessimism, it took me years of work. lots of little things. finding things you love and things that make you happy to push out the thoughts that lead to obsessive spirals. i'm almost 40 now.

i love my wife, and my friends. i love my little cats. i love to go on walks around the city. i love to cook much more now, i even stopped presuming i'd fuck up a dish that i'm learning. i love to play games with my friends. i love to write my tabletop campaigns. i love to share stupid internet garbage with this guy i worked with briefly and cause psychic damage to him daily for years, so long and so consistently that he forgot to tell me he got married. because that's funny

when i first talked about killing myself to my wife, the first thing she could tell me was "i love you. i want you here". i've had to say that in so many words to some friends recently. so i'm going to sincerely say it to you too:

i love you, and i want you here

#suicide #tw suicide

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frillydolle · 2 days ago

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Haiii!! I love ur writing so much ^.^ m'was wonderin' if you could maybe do a caitlyn kiramman one-shot/imagine where her inexperienced girlfriend wants to try more like, roughness, because she wants to experience subspace! (It's just like, deeeeeep submission, like ur mind feels fuzzy and you can hardly talk!) Caitlyn reluctantly agrees because usually caitlyn is the softest dom ever during sex, is like so gentle and always praising :( but now her pillow princess wants this? So she fucks the shit out of her <3

(Size kink, mocking, praise/degradation, CORRUPTION!!! Backshots maybe 👀strap and aftercare!)

If you can that would be amazing, if not thank you for your time :3 I hope you have a lovely day!

caitlyn kiramann x female reader

꒰ 𝝑𓏲 ꒱ mdni , nsfw ; sizekink , praise , mocking? , inexperienced reader , commander era , can't take myself seriously,, im sorry:(

“oh, such a sweet girl you are, hm?”

“pleease— i want more—” u whine out, feeling her thrusting into u at a painful, teasingly slow pace. u just wanted her to be faster, quicker, rougher, but u weren't sure how to ask her because that's so embarrassing! that was just.. filthy talk u couldn't see urself ever doing!

“you're doing so well, sweet girl.” she'd say, but u really wanted her to be rougher. she was just being slow and filling because u were still a little inexperienced, but u were sure that u wanted more of her, u wanted her to be a little meaner, u weren't gonna mind.

“please, cait, i want more— faster, please—!” u whined out, bucking ur hips into her as u feel her hands grip ur hips from behind. her hand gently trails up ur spine, which makes u shiver. she moves ur hair out of the way before getting a pretty view of ur back. she wasn't sure if she should do what u wanted since u were inexperienced compared to her but she was also a very important person.

someone like her was authoritative, she would guide others. so who was she not to guide a sweetheart like u, hm? “are you sure [name]? i wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable..”

“no,no, i want you to— mhmph— please, commander?”

commander.

pleasure would've left her body if she didn't have an ounce of self-control, or patience, even. u just knew what to call her in a time of need, don't you? and she was determined to show u what a kiramann would do for her partner. she did love u with her whole being after all.

a condescending huff left her lips before she gripped ur hips tightly then a squeal left ur lips as u begin to feel her pace quicken.. and deepen. this is most definitely what u wanted and got it with just a simple title of leadership.

“stop squirming. this is what you wanted, isn't it?” she says, thrusting in such a pace that u would barely keep ur eyes open! she's never been like this before. pent up rage? boredom? or has she wanted this for so long that she just kept quiet? u were only sure that she was making so so good, it was practically heavenly.

“yes! oh god, cait, yes, i— i want this!” u whine out softly, ur voice all shaking from the pleasure that was running through ur body. she always knew how to treat u, sometimes it was like she knew u more than u knew urself.

“i wasn't even sure how long i could stay away from you like this. some of these enforcers can be so... frustrating, but my pretty would be happy enough to make me feel all better, wouldn't you?” and u nodded immediately at her words, evening imagine the taunting look on her face right now if u were facing her. of course, it didn't take much longer to hit the sweet of urs and it was over.

continuous babbles and whines of yes, please, caitlyn and more would leave ur pretty lips. poor u, couldn't even form a single incoherent thought due to the way she's treating u. this feeling couldn't compare to no other, with her touching, her thrusting, her filthy, mocking words.. it was all to much but did u want it to stop? no, not really. or wait, maybe. did u? u weren't even sure.

“oh, you're close. i can feel it, sweetheart.”

#🎀reqsೀ #arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane fic #arcane smut #arcane imagine #arcane x reader #caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn arcane #caitlyn kiramann x you #caitlyn kiramann x reader #caitlyn kiramann x female reader #wlw #lesbian

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partoffantasy · 1 day ago

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Love Letters - Liam Mairi

summary: while Liam is away on a mission, he leaves behind a series of handwritten notes for reader. As she finds them hidden in her daily routine, they become her anchor, a reminder that no distance can truly separate them.

pairing: liam mairi x fem!reader warnings: fluff word count: 1.4k

⸻⸻⸻✦ ♡ ✦⸻⸻⸻

Y/N didn’t notice the first note right away. It was small, tucked neatly beneath her dagger on the nightstand, the parchment slightly curled at the edges. The familiar slant of Liam’s handwriting made her heart stutter as she reached for it, unfolding the delicate piece of paper with careful fingers.

My Love,

I know you hate waking up alone, and I wish more than anything that I could be there when you open your eyes. But since I can’t, I’ll leave little pieces of myself behind. Starting with this—I love you. I’ll love you today, tomorrow, and every moment after. Try not to set anything on fire while I’m gone.

Yours, always.

She let out a soft, breathless laugh, pressing the note against her chest. Trust Liam to anticipate the ache of his absence before she even had time to feel it. Still holding the note, she made her way toward class, her mind entirely occupied with thoughts of him. She didn’t even notice Ridoc eyeing her curiously until he suddenly snatched the paper right from her fingers.

“What’s this?” he mused, dodging her immediate lunge to get it back. “A love letter? Oh, this is good.” He cleared his throat dramatically before reading aloud. “I’ll love you today, tomorrow, and every moment after.” He clutched his chest. “By the gods, Y/N, this is so sweet I think I might pass out.”

Violet and Rhi burst into laughter as Y/N groaned, face burning. “Give that back, Ridoc, or I swear—” “Liam really has it bad,” Rhi teased, grinning. “You’ve completely ruined him.” “I did not ruin him!” Y/N huffed, reaching for the note again, only for Ridoc to hold it just out of reach. “He was already disgustingly perfect before I came along.” “He’s an absolute goner,” Violet agreed, smirking. “I mean, we already knew, but this just proves it.”

Ridoc finally relented, handing the note back with a wink. “Fine, fine. But if he ever gets tired of writing you love letters, I’m happy to ghostwrite a few.” Y/N snatched it back with a scowl, though the warmth in her chest remained. “Liam would rather let a gryphon eat him whole.”

The second note appeared in the pocket of her flight leathers, crinkling beneath her fingers as she reached for her gloves.

My Love,

Did you know you furrow your brow when you’re concentrating? It’s adorable. And infuriating, because it makes me want to kiss you senseless when you’re deep in thought. But since I’m not there to do it, consider this my promise—I’ll make up for every missed opportunity when I return.

Yours, always.

She swallowed against the warmth creeping up her neck, shoving the note back into her pocket before anyone noticed the flush on her cheeks. Y/N soared high above the training fields, the wind rushing past her as Caelan cut effortlessly through the sky. Liam’s words lingered in her mind, wrapping around her like the wind against her skin.

She had never thought about the way she furrowed her brow. But Liam had. Liam noticed. Just like he noticed how she always twirled her dagger between her fingers when she was restless. How she held her breath for a split second before throwing a punch. How she tapped her nails against the hilt of her sword when she was thinking through a strategy.

Liam noticed the smallest things about her—the things even she didn’t realize she did. And the weight of that realization settled deep in her chest. She thought about the little things that made him who he was. The way his hands always gravitated toward her, even in sleep—fingers brushing her arm, his palm resting against her waist, as if even unconscious he needed to touch. The way he always took the seat closest to the door when they were in a room together, an old habit from years of needing to be ready to protect at a moment’s notice. The way his lips curled into the softest, most unguarded smile when he thought no one was looking.

The way he always knew when she needed silence instead of words. When she needed a joke instead of comfort. When she needed him to pull her in instead of giving her space. Liam was observant, patient, steady—everything she wasn’t, but everything she needed. Caelan let out a sharp rumble beneath her, sensing the shift in her emotions.

"I’m fine," she assured him, though her fingers curled a little tighter against his scales. He didn’t buy it. Not that she expected him to. Not when Liam had left her feeling like this—warm and full, yet aching all at once. She adjusted her grip and Caelan angled into a wide turn, scanning the horizon out of habit. The rest of the patrol team was spread out in formation, but her mind remained locked on one thought.

She missed Liam. Not just his presence, but the way he saw her. And gods, she wanted to see him, too.

The notes kept coming. Hidden between the pages of her favorite book, slipped inside the satchel she carried to training, even tucked into Xaden’s back pocket for her to find. Each one was different—sometimes playful, sometimes tender, but always filled with Liam’s unwavering devotion.

By the time a week had passed, she had gathered a dozen of them, each a lifeline tethering her to him. She read them when the days felt too long, when the silence of her room felt too empty, when she missed the steady warmth of his presence beside her. And then, finally, he returned.

Y/N didn’t give him a chance to speak before she launched herself into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist as he caught her effortlessly, his familiar scent washing over her. “Miss me?” Liam murmured against her hair, holding her just as tightly. “Terribly,” she admitted. “But you already knew that.”

He chuckled, his breath warm against her skin. “I had a feeling.” Reaching into her pocket, Y/N pulled out a folded piece of parchment and pressed it into his palm. His brows lifted as he opened it, eyes scanning the words written in her neat, careful script.

Liam, my Heart,

You left pieces of yourself behind, but you didn’t realize—I carry you with me always. In every breath, every heartbeat, every thought. Your notes reminded me of what I already knew: that there is no world in which I exist without loving you.

I miss you like I miss the air when I’m drowning. It’s not just a passing ache—it’s something deeper, something woven into my bones. I see you everywhere, in everything. In the way the sun rises slow and steady, just like the warmth of your hands against my skin. In the way the wind shifts, constant and unyielding, like the way you’ve always been there for me. I see you in the stars, in the embers of a dying fire, in the pages of my favorite books—because no matter where I look, you are there.

I don’t know if I ever told you this, but before you, love was something distant. Something I could admire from afar but never touch, never hold in my hands. It wasn’t meant for people like us—people who have lost too much, who have been taught that love is something cruel, something fleeting.

But then you walked into my life with your quiet strength, your unwavering patience, your heart that has always been too big for this war-torn world. And suddenly, love wasn’t distant anymore. It was in the way you looked at me when you thought I wasn’t paying attention. In the way you knew when I needed a push and when I needed a hand to hold. In the way you saw me, truly saw me, when I wasn’t even sure I knew who I was.

I love you.

Not just in the easy moments, but in the hard ones too. In the silences between words, in the spaces between breaths. I love you in ways I don’t know how to put into words, but I hope you can feel it. I hope you never doubt it. I hope you understand that you are my home, my heart, my always.

Yours, always.

As Liam read the letter, his fingers trembled slightly, his chest tightening with every word. He had expected something sweet, maybe teasing, maybe affectionate. But this—this was everything. It was every unspoken truth, every quiet moment they had ever shared, poured onto a single page. His throat worked around a thick knot of emotion as he read it again, then again, as if trying to commit every word to memory.

And when he finally looked up, his sky-blue eyes found Y/N’s, and he knew—there was no world in which he existed without loving her, too.

#fourth wing #liam fourth wing #liam mairi x reader #liam mairi #liam x reader #liam mairi fluff #liam mairi imagine #fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing fluff #liam mairi fanfiction #xaden riorson #onyx storm #iron flame

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aurorawritestoescape · 3 days ago

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Show your blorbos

Thank you for the tags, my loves @milla-frenchy @tateypots @sunshineispunk @sawymredfox @schnarfer @joelmillerisapunk @bonezone44 @itwasntimethatdidit40 💞💞💞

I feel like I’m doing everything ages later these days, when everyone’s already done with a game. But better late than never, right?😅

I’ll start with my favourite Pedro boys😍

Don’t glare, Joel! You’re always my number one😁

Joel Miller. He’s not my first Pedro love (it was Din) but the biggest one for sure❤️ (52 fics prove my obsession😅) I think we all feel the same about him so I don’t need to explain why I love the man. I don’t wanna start crying🥺 He deserves everything best. The love of my life❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Din Djarin. He’s such a cunt lol but also soft, kind, brave, caring!! he’s the best dad🥹😍 His armor is super hot, his voice makes me weak but I lost my mind when he took his helmet off. He was so miserable and bloody, just my type🥺🥵 and Din brought me to fanfic so he’ll forever be in my heart🥹❤️‍🔥

Javi P. Do I even need to explain myself?🫠🫠🫠

Frankie Morales. When I need comfort, I write Frankie. My perfect teddy bear😍❤️

Tommy Miller. Gabriel Luna played him so well! he’s gorgeous and his kind eyes and sweet smile won my heart🥹❤️‍🔥

Dean, Sam, Cas. I put these three together because I love them equally (ok, I love Dean a liiiiittle bit more)❤️‍🔥

Jeff and Britta (Community) She’s a beautiful mess, he’s a lovable asshole, I wanna be their third❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Love Quinn (You) I love her so fn much! She’s passionate, she loves hard and just wants to be happy🥹 She’s never done anything wrong😤

Chandler Bing. What an amazing character! Desperately looking for love and then being the absolute best tv husband😍 and his sense of humor is everything!! My favorite Friend for sure❤️❤️❤️

Kylo Ren. My baby😍 He’s just a hurt boy inside who wanted to be loved🥺 I’m pretty sure I was conditioned to love him harder by all amazing fics I read about him bc the movies left me disappointed tbh. Thank gods for fanfic and our talented writers❤️

Ahh I had so much fun thinking about my loves😍

Npt💞 @iamasaddie @toxicanonymity @604to647 @huskyfox5 @ellasinnombre @magpiepills @corazondebeskar @princessanglophile @evolnoomym and you🫵

#tag game #show your blorbos #joel miller #pedro pascal #tommy miller #narcos #frankie morales #chandler bing #kylo ren #love quinn

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athousandbyeol · 2 days ago

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keep up the thamepo [episode 8]

this episode easily became my favourite episode after episode 1. the flavours are beautifully mixed and I love how everything ties together into a wonderful and coherent dish.

i was fearful of the possibility of them dragging the jun-thame-po drama until the end of the episode, but I'm glad they resolved it at such a right pace and gave us more time to witness another step taken by thame and po—the progress of their relationship is beautiful and captivating. it makes me giddy and happy and shy and rooting for them even more.

i don't have much to say about the past few episodes because they're quite direct and easy to digest (in my opinion). however, I'm keen on talking about jun's side of the story and the physical intimacy between thame and po (finally!)

p.s. i do apologise for not writing this weekly thamepo post for episodes 6 and 7 for reasons I've stated previously. but without further ado, let's begin!

1. jun's unrequited love — his sacrifice for the friendship that means more than the world to him

for weeks, i've been asking myself, "what's up with jun?"

his actions confused me because the series!jun was doing things that were different from novel!jun. for context, I read some spoilers a few weeks ago, and I learned that in the novel, jun likes thame. the air hockey scene was when he was *kind of* confessing his feelings for thame, but not directly and openly. i don't know how novel!jun treats novel!po, therefore I can't really make a deduction if he's also falling for po. but in terms of the series!jun, I believe he did like po.

let's be serious. he wouldn't be here if he didn't have feelings for po. i don't think anyone can convince me (at this point) that he didn't like po romantically.

he knew thame was busy dealing with khun pemika at the company (and other stuff pertaining to MARS), so he took another step to be there for po when thame couldn't—he didn't want po to feel left out or abandoned.

it's so fascinating to me that at this point, jun believed that their feelings were one-sided; he knew po liked thame, but jun didn't believe that thame would feel the same. i think this has a lot to do with the fact that thame is more of show not tell kind of person.

jun was looking at thame and po—he was observing them. he was trying to put two and two together (and hoping that the answer wouldn't be four because if it did—he would have to back off). but the answer was indeed four and jun...

i think, at the back of jun's mind, he knew what was happening between thame and po—it was so obvious that they shared something mutual. but jun was battling his own devils. along the way, as his feelings grew for po, and all those moments spent with po—perhaps jun saw that he had a chance. he only had to be in this headspace where he believed thame didn't feel the same for po. thus, why jun was running away from thame—because jun knew, if he confronted thame (or vice versa), he would discover the truth. and I guess, he wasn't ready for that rejection.

jun was really attentive, and that wasn't a surprise. he was always watching and trying to access/understand the situation. i guess, aside from pepper, jun would be the next to see the bigger picture. he would be the one to take charge if thame and pepper couldn't.

he knew po's favourite snacks. he wanted to be there with po—for po. even though he's brash and rough, this was his way of showing that he cared—he loved.

(i think i've covered more extensively jun's character in this post for better understanding of where I'm coming from hehe)

so the confrontation began and jun said everything he wanted to say to thame.

in my opinion, jun believed that whatever thame were doing for po wasn't enough. i guess, jun put himself in po's shoes for a while here—it reminded him of how thame selflessly took all the burden of MARS and carried them on his shoulders alone. thame did those things for the sake of the group, and jun found that unbelievably selfish because they're in a group—he's supposed to be thame's best friend, someone he could trust and talk to—they should be in this together. but it was second nature for thame to take everything and leave nothing on the plate, probably because of his role as a leader.

i think jun was hoping that thame wouldn't do that alone. he didn't want thame to blame himself for everything that happened to MARS before they reunited. jun didn't like many decisions thame made, so this was why he decided to distance himself from MARS and led the other members astray from thame. it was his way of coping with problems and betrayal and disappointment: he would run because he wanted to avoid conflict—he didn't want to paint anyone as the bad guy.

so this was what he did: he avoided thame so that he didn't have to confess his own feelings for po, while he vaguely knew that po might not feel the same.

even though i know many of us (me included) were confused about jun and the reason behind his doings, this episode really cleared the air for me. he loved his friendship with thame more than anything—he loved thame a lot to put a stop to their years of friendship. people could say anything about him, but at the end of the day, jun genuinely cared about thame and po. and he chose them over his own feelings.

(i also love the back-and-forth tension between jun and thame as they confessed the things they'd been dying to say to each other. and each time they were right, the puck entered the goal. that was so effective to prove the intensity of their emotions from a literary standpoint I was actually vibrating in awe because they DID THAT so well ugh it was so delicious!!!)

but the thing that made me scream and lose my breath was thame asked jun "you like him, don't you?" and the puck entered jun's goal OH MY GOD THAT WAS PEAK CINEMA in my opinion!!!

and jun was transported back to those moments shared with po, that little time he spent with po—these feelings that were growing fonder by the second. they were fleeting, but still so beautiful. (if this isn't love then I guess... I'm blindsided by love. i don't know what love is anymore t_t)

and it broke me when jun answered, "it doesn't matter how I feel," because JUN, LOVE, YOUR FEELINGS MATTERED GOODNESS :'(

and when jun said to thame, "you don't even have feelings for him," THAME STOPPED THE PUCK FROM ENTERING HIS GOAL GOODNESS THAT WAS ANOTHER PEAK CINEMA MOMENT BECAUSE!!!!!!!

it wasn't true. he had feelings for po. he loved po. thame loved po so much.

i think, due to his inexperience, thame didn't know much about navigating his feelings for po. he didn't know what was enough and what was overdoing things. thame was always standing on this thin line between sanity and madness—he didn't know how to find the perfect balance. there was no doubt that thame liked more so intensely, but in jun's eyes (and I believe pepper too), thame wasn't doing enough. and po could oblivious sometimes so that was why jun saw this as a chance for him to make a move—to revolve with po. because love wasn't only about late-night texts and failed movie dates and long walks and heart-to-heart talks. love should be thame moving forward with po and not for po—love should be thame holding po's hand and facing the upcoming obstacle together—not just handling it alone.

jun just didn't want thame to repeat the same mistake he did with MARS. after he knew everything from po about thame's sacrifices (in episode 3), he was gutted that thame kept so much guilt and anger alone. he just wanted thame to prove (more to himself than anyone) that he was a man of his word—he would be there for MARS and po. he would love and protect them as promised.

jun and thame's friendship runs deeper than the sea and we can't pretend that we can't see the depth of their understanding and reliance on each other. these two individuals have so much love to give and receive, but the winner takes all—and in this game, thame won.

thame said that even though they'd been friends for a long time, neither of them had to back down if they really liked po. this also proved thame's selflessness and also his openness to accepting the what-ifs of po not picking him.

however, i believe, jun loves thame and this friendship more than his blossoming feelings for po—jun backed down for the sake of this friendship—for his love and respect for thame. //jun... I've wronged you in so many ways. I'm sorry that I doubted you. love, you deserve more than the entire world :'(//

jun said he didn't have feelings for po: this was his way of waving the white flag. i think jun believed it wasn't worth giving up years of friendship and watching it going down the drain just for a person—even though jun hoped it could transpire into something more meaningful if he never discovered about thame's truest feelings for po. but like I said, it was clear from the start that thame and po liked each other, and all jun wanted (and tried to avoid) was to believe he could be in thame's shoes if thame stayed in his spot—if he didn't get the clarification from thame about his feelings for po.

jun was obviously dejected and disheartened, but he masked it so well with that usual smugness. but at least, in my eyes, I knew jun genuinely liked po, and he cared about him in ways that thame was lacking before. but he believed po was better off with thame instead of him since their feelings were already equal.

and i have an inkling that thame—to an extent—knew that jun was lying. i think thame knew jun liked po too... and this was why episode 3!jun and episode 3!thame were so important to be understood because their friendship is so genuine and strong and nothing could ever break this bond except the both of them. thame was aware of the sacrifices jun did and vice versa. this wouldn't affect their friendship—this wouldn't make them crumble. they loved each other too much to let it happen (although they'll never say this aloud).

jun turned from a thame's potential competitor to thamepo's unofficial cupid. no one's doing it like jun. he's the OG definition of 'best friend' in my opinion: a pain in the ass, but would stand up for others no matter what.

and the way he was looking at po here... it felt like a goodbye to his feelings for po :( but I hope they'll continue being this bickering duo and frenemies because jun really helped po see his potential and po gave jun warmth and comfort like never before :(

also, shoutout to nut for being the perfect jun! you're an amazing actor! the emotional rollercoaster you strapped me into while watching your shenanigans and heart eyes for po gave me chest pains (tbvh). but friend, I love you. i hope you'll find happiness *coughs* dylan *coughs* ;)

it drives me insane that jun and po were finally meeting somewhere with a brighter setting and lighting—probably hinting that both of their feelings are no longer in the dark. no one was hiding from the truth anymore.

this was when jun got the last confirmation that po liked thame—and this was where po knew that thame liked him too. this ended on a bittersweet note for jun, but an epiphany for po. //my heart hurts for unknown reasons...//

2. physical intimacy — another step forward, a moment of clarity

sometimes, i think, thamepo took the slow burn too seriously because what do you mean in episode 8 we finally got them properly holding hands??? (but i love it so much T_T)

but the whole sequence of thame and po talking, trying to squeeze out the 'i like you' from each other but didn't get to because that felt too heavy on their shoulders for now. so they settled with conversations filled with metaphors and symbols and I'm always down for that ;)

i think this was the first time that they were this physically close. my heart was in my throat for the remaining 13 minutes because they were so shy and this moment felt so intimate and sensual and I shouldn't be prodding but I couldn't stop gawking at them finally being this close and all over each other (metaphorically) and I didn't know where they were heading—

and thame decided to watch the movie in po's room because, like jun said—

"why you should be there in a rush? seeing him today, I guess, at most, you'll just end up staring at each other. I'm telling you, during the first six months of dating him, even holding hands is an achievement. and it will take two whole years before you two get to kiss. as for going to his room, i'd say it'll definitely take up to five years."

the way i CACKLED because jun, friend, sorry to burst your bubble, but these knuckleheads FINALLY HELD HANDS!!!!!!!!!

i wondered if i was a victorian man seeing a woman's ankle for the first time because this scene got me squeaking and screeching and hollering and screaming and giggling and blushing and losing my marbles because yes!!! finally! they were one step closer (literally and physically)! thame was really proving jun wrong because this guy was done being vanilla xD

there's really this different charge in the air after thame and po reached a moment of clarity through jun. thame was visibly more confident, and po was more open to accepting thame's advances (even though he was still nervous. i think this still has a lot to do with the emotional trauma that po has after his break-up with earn).

thame did the korean male lead move here and expect me not to scream??? the audacity.

and when thame said he wanted to do so many things (to po and with po), but watching a movie in po's room would be enough for this new beginning—THAME YOU'RE INSANE!!!

and yes, thame was buying a bottle of water and lozenges for his throat to spend the night with po (and not what we had in mind... 👀)

we know what's coming next week. and that particular scene (the second picture)... if you know, you know... //readying myself to jump off the nearest rooftop//

are we even ready for thamepo dating era? //i'm not...//

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aesthetictarlos · 1 day ago

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💗 Dear Bucktommy please 🥹🫶

It took me a while and I almost wrote more than 500 words but here we go, hope you enjoy 💖

Tommy can't hold back a smile as he spots a blue envelope on the pillow next to his. He can feel Evan rummaging into the kitchen and he really wants to join him but he's too curious so he sits with his back against the headboard, opens the envelope and starts reading.

Dear Tommy,

you once told me no one has ever written you a letter before so here I am, writing you one to celebrate our first year together.

Happy anniversary, my love.

You're sleeping next to me while I write this and I feel like my heart is beating out of my chest. Looking at you like this, vulnerable and peaceful is one of my favorite hobbies and sometimes I still can't believe I get to do this, to have and cherish this part of you no one else has ever had before.

I know you think you're the lucky one but it's not true; I wish you could see yourself through my eyes and see how wonderful you are, in and out.

You're so easy to love and I could think of at least a thousand reasons why I fell for you but we've been together for twelve months so I'll mention only 12 of them. (Yes, it's cheesy. And yes, I'm a sap.)

1. Your scrunchy smile. It makes me feel fuzzy and warm all over, and it's the most gorgeous smile I've ever seen.

2. The way you look at me, like I'm the most precious thing in the world.

3. The way you say my name, like it's a blessing and not a disappointment.

4. You always listen to me, even when I start rambling on the weirdest random facts. (And you even ask questions!!!)

5. Your kindness towards others.

6. The way you hug me. Your warm hugs are my favorite place to be and I've never felt so safe in someone else's arms before.

7. Your infectious laughter and the way it makes your eyes crinkle at the corners.

8. The way you make me feel. Cherished and loved and safe.

9. Your unwavering support. You're always there for me and you know what I need before I know it myself.

10. You never tried to change me. You love me for who I am, flaws and all.

11. This one is silly but I really, really love your nose and your cleft chin. Sue me, you look like you've been carved out of marble.

12. You show me how much you love me everyday and you never take me and what we have for granted.

I thought love and relationships were supposed to be complicated and troubled but loving you and being with you is the easiest thing I've ever done.

You're my person, the love of my life and the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. You're the best thing that ever happened to me, Tommy.

I love you. Thank you for flying your way through my life and changing it for the better.

Forever yours,

Evan.

#bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #tevan #allie writes #my writing #tag games #bucktommy ficlet

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justabigassnerd · 3 days ago

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In Another Life pt. 2

Pairing - Jackson Genrette x reader (Kook!JJ AU)

Word Count - 4,829

Series Warnings - swearing, smoking, angst, fluff, violence, weapons, blood, injuries, death, canon divergence (it's an AU innit?), drugs, alcohol, verbal & physical abuse

Summary - In another life, JJ Maybank was known by the name Jackson Genrette. The son of Larissa Genrette and grandson of Wes Genrette, making him the sole heir of Goat Island. Instead of being associated with surfing and smoking. Jackson was associated with the country club and yachts. Yet despite his unending wealth and Kook status, Jackson found himself intrigued by the adventures of the Pogues and found himself dragged along on an adventure he never could’ve anticipated.

In Another Life masterlist

In Another Life playlist

A/N - it's time for part two of this series y'all! I truly hope y'all are enjoying this because I'm absolutely loving writing it and I just want to make you guys happy because you guys mean the world to me. as per y'all, please send in requests, feedback, and enjoy!!!

The next morning, you awoke to John B rapping his knuckles on your door before he opened it.

“Hey, come on, we’ve got a whole lot of nothing to do.” John B says, quickly dodging the pillow you hurled in his direction as it bounced off the wall.

“Give me a minute.” You reply, your voice muffled by the pillow as you tug the covers over your head.

“Alright, just hurry up, we’re picking Pope and Kie up when you’re ready.” John B says before closing your door to give you some privacy. Once John B shut the door, you sat up, rubbing at your eyes before forcing yourself out of bed and heading to the shower. To your displeasure, the water was coming through cold which meant the power had still not come back on. Once you finished your shower, you changed into some shorts and a crop top before heading out to the living room, unsurprised to find John B was missing. Taking the chance you had, you dug your hand into your jacket pocket, extracting the napkin Jackson had handed to you the day before and pulled your phone out of your shorts pocket, thumbs hovering over the ‘add new contact’ button as you stared at the number. You debated on texting him to ask if he wanted to join you and your friends or to see if he wanted to hang out at a later date.

“What’s this?” John B says, announcing his return as he snatches the napkin from your hand, holding it up out of your reach as you attempt to reach it.

“Give it back, John B.” You say, reaching for the napkin as John B laughs.

“Hang on I’m trying to see what all the fuss is about.” John B says, eyes squinting to read what was scribbled on the napkin.

“John B-”

“Wait have you got someone’s number? Who is it?” John B asks as you finally manage to wrench the napkin from his grip.

“It’s none of your business.” You say, folding the napkin up and shoving it back in your jacket pocket.

“Come on, y/n/n. You’re practically my sister, I need to make sure anyone trying to flirt with you is good for you.” John B insists with a groan.

“Firstly, this person wasn’t flirting with me, they were being friendly. Secondly, I can look after myself if anyone tries anything.” You say firmly, shoving your phone back in your pocket as you turn to face John B.

“So, if they were just being friendly, why can’t you tell me who it is? You know I won’t stop bugging you until you tell me.” John B says slinging an arm over your shoulder as you roll your eyes, debating on whether you tell John B about what had happened the day before.

“If I tell you, you have to promise not to freak out.” You say as the two of you leave the Chateau, making your way towards the dock where HMS Pogue is moored.

“You have my word, I won’t freak out.” John B says as the two of you walk down the dock, hopping on the boat as you move to untie the rope.

“Okay, fine. It was Jackson Genrette’s number.” You say with a sigh, not missing how John B’s eyes widened slightly, turning to stare at you, shock written all over his face.

“Jackson Genrette… as in the Kook who lives on Goat Island?” John B asks incredulously as you step onto the boat, nodding slightly as you sit down, discarding the rope in the boat.

“Yeah. His family are at the country club most weekends. He helped me out of a situation with Rafe.” You explain, leaning back against your elbows as John B starts the engine.

“A situation wit- wait what did Rafe do?” John B asks worriedly, looking over his shoulder as you get to your feet, moving to stand alongside him.

“The usual. He demanded drinks and when I asked him what drinks he wanted he got pissed that I couldn’t mind read or some shit and he grabbed me by the shirt so I slammed against the bar. Jackson stepped in and got Rafe and Topper to back off. Even tried to give me some cash as an apology.” You explain, watching as John B processes what you’ve said.

“Rafe is such an asshole. You’re not hurt are you?” John B asks, looking over at you.

“Nah, just a little sore after it happened but I’ve had worse. Jackson hung out with me on my break, showed me a pretty good spot to hang out, and I guess you could say we’re somewhat friendly now.” You say, your hand subconsciously winding around your middle, silently thankful that you didn’t bruise from the interaction with Rafe, not that anyone would’ve noticed or cared if you were.

“Damn, moving up in the world, aren’t you? Going after a Kook like Jackson.” John B muses with a laugh, reaching out to ruffle your hair as you swat at his hand.

“Jackson and I are friendly, that’s it. Besides it’s not like you haven’t been eye-fucking Sarah Cameron every chance you get. Sometimes I think that’s the reason you took the job working for Ward.” You retort, finally swatting his hand away and then deciding to ruffle his hair in retaliation.

“Sarah Cameron? You think I want Sarah Cameron of all people?” John B asks, shoving your hand away as his mouth gapes open.

“It’s obvious. You definitely have a thing for her. Shame she’s with Topper if you ask me.” You say, folding your arms across your chest.

“Oh, and I bet you don’t have a thing for Jackson Genrette since you were so eager to spend your work break with him.” John B says with a raised eyebrow, ignoring your scoff.

“There is nothing between me and Jackson Genrette, we’ve barely had one conversation.” You say, still insisting that John B is wrong.

“Did he or did he not give you his number yesterday?” John B asks, looking over at you pointedly, smirking at your silence.

“Exactly. Even if you haven’t got a thing for him, he’s clearly interested in you. But you’re better than that, I know you’d never date a Kook.” John B says, focusing on driving the boat towards the dock outside Pope’s house and family restaurant. Not wanting to dwindle on the subject any more, you notice Pope and quickly stand up, calling over to him with a smile.

“Yo, Pope!” You call out to your friend, noticing him sweeping the dock with his dad nearby.

“Hey guys,” Pope replies, smiling over at you as John B kills the engine so the HMS Pogue can slowly sidle up alongside.

“You coming?” John B asks, gesturing for Pope to come and join you.

“No, he ain’t.” Pope’s dad, Heyward says quickly, staring over at you and John B.

“Aw come on Heyward. The day after a hurricane is a free day, that’s the island rules.” You say with a shrug, grinning over at Heyward as he folds his arms across his chest.

“Yeah, come on Pope, a day out on the water. We’re picking Kie up too. A Pogue day.” John B says, both of you trying to convince Heyward to let Pope join you on the boat.

“I’m sorry Pops. I promise I’ll do my chores later.” Pope says apologetically, hopping on the boat the moment it passes by the dock as you cheer, hugging Pope while Heyward, rolls his eyes, getting in one final scolding towards Pope before you continue in the direction of Figure Eight.

“Kie said she’s bringing food for us.” You say, your eyes fixed on your phone as you read the text from Kiara.

“Good, because all we’ve got are beers.” John B says with a laugh, gesturing at the cooler he had loaded onto the boat before you’d even woken up.

“That’s better than the blunts I got in my pocket.” You laugh, pulling out the couple of blunts you had rolled after getting ready for the day.

“I’m glad Kie has some common sense because we’d be struggling if we got stuck on an island somewhere with your priorities being beer and weed,” Pope says as you all laugh. Before too long, you’re pulling up by the dock outside the Wreck and helping Kiara into the boat, taking the cooler from her and placing it alongside the beer cooler as John B continues to drive the HMS Pogue away from all the houses and restaurants and towards the marshes. You pull your lighter out of your pocket and light one of your blunts, taking an expertly trained inhale, exhaling the smoke and offering it to Kiara who takes the blunt happily while John B tosses you all a beer. The journey was fun, filled with laughter and smiles until the boat caught on something, sending you all lurching forward, making you lose balance and almost end up in the water.

“Holy shit, what was that?” Kiara asks as you all straighten up, all of you glancing into the water to see what the boat could’ve gotten caught on.

“The channel must’ve changed,” Pope mutters as all of you stretch, easing your muscles from the sudden throw.

“Wait, what’s that?” You point out, noticing something in the water and everyone moves to where you were stood and looking in the direction you pointed.

“Is that a boat?” Pope asks as you all stare at it. You quickly exchange a look with the others before pulling your clothes off, exposing your swimwear before you all dive into the water, submerging beneath the waves and down to the boat, studying it carefully before returning to the surface.

“Shit, that’s a Grady-White. Those things aren’t cheap.” You say as the four of you make your way back over to the HMS Pogue, hauling yourselves back into the boat.

“That’s definitely the boat I saw when we were surfing the surge.” John B says, glancing from Pope to you and Kiara.

“What idiot would take their boat out in a hurricane?” You ask, glancing over at the water again, wondering who the owner of the boat was.

“That’s what I’m going to figure out y/n.” John B says, retrieving the anchor from one of the boat's compartments as you cock an eyebrow.

“You cannot be serious,” Kiara mutters.

“You better not die Routledge I swear.” You say, trying not to let any worry seep into your voice. With a salute in acknowledgement to your words, John B stepped backwards into the water and quickly submerged, leaving you and the others to anxiously wait.

“He’s going to be okay, right?” You ask, glancing over at Pope and Kiara, before fumbling for your shorts, digging in the pockets, grabbing the spare blunt and your lighter, lighting the end, and taking a drag to ease your worries.

“He’ll be fine, y/n/n. He’s a good swimmer.” Pope says assuringly as you nod, trying to force your brain to believe his words. You took another drag of your blunt as your eyes anxiously scanned the water, searching for any sign of John B. You weren’t usually anxious when it came to you or any of your friends exploring the water, after all, you and your friends were practically raised on the water. You had all grown up using boats, surfing and swimming in the channels and the ocean but after Big John had disappeared at sea you couldn’t help but worry whenever your friends did dangerous things in and around the water. You didn’t want to lose anyone else you cared for.

Before your worries could get more intense, John B returned to the surface, inhaling sharply as his head broke the water. Pope rushed to haul the anchor in while you and Kiara moved to help John B climb back into the boat.

“Damn, on the second blunt already?” John B jokes as he swims closer, not missing the blunt sticking out of the corner of your mouth.

“I was worrying about your dumb ass.” You retort, offering him a hand to help him into the boat.

“Did you find anything that could lead us to the owner?” Kiara asks as John B climbs into the boat.

“No, but I did find a motel key.” John B says, holding up the key in his hand.

“Well, now what?” Pope asks, glancing from person to person.

“We take it to the police I guess? I mean what are we supposed to do?” Kiara says with a shrug as you take another drag of your blunt before offering it over to Kiara.

“You know they won’t be happy if you show up high,” Pope mutters as you roll your eyes.

“Luckily I don’t give a shit if they’re happy with me or not. We’re reporting a shipwreck, they should be happy we’re doing that in the first place.” You mutter grumpily, taking the blunt back from Kiara. The police gave no shits about Pogues and you knew it. You never bothered to make a positive impression on them because you knew they viewed you the same way they viewed your parents and you quickly learnt it wasn’t worth trying to prove to them that you were any different.

“Pope’s not wrong y/n/n, ditch the blunt.” John B says, making you roll your eyes, stumping the blunt out on the side of the boat.

“When did you get boring?” You ask, side-eyeing John B as he shoots you a glare.

“I’m not- look the police might take us seriously if we take it seriously, you know?” John B says with a shrug, making you exhale sharply before finally nodding.

“Fine.” You concede, deciding it wasn’t worth arguing any more and just spending the rest of the journey listening in silence to what the others were discussing.

When you eventually dock near the triage area the police had set up, you all get off the boat and make your way into the building, John B clutching the keys in his hand as you all follow him.

“Hey, we found a boat.” John B says, all of you approaching the officer who was mid-conversation with a woman clutching a dog leash.

“You wanna hear this.” You try to interject, attempting to get the officer's attention when he holds a hand up suddenly.

“Look, whatever it is you kids are up to, we’re not falling for it.” He replies sharply, glaring at each of you in turn.

“We’re not messing around, I swear. We found a sunken boat and-” John B starts, suddenly cut off by people beginning to get rowdy, annoyed by you and your friends jumping the line.

“Just get outta here kids,” the officer says, shooing you all away as people surge forward, pushing you and your friends back as you make your way out of the area.

“What did I tell you? They don’t give a shit about us.” You mutter as you all exit the building, making your way back over to where the HMS Pogue was moored.

“I could do without the attitude, y/n/n.” John B says, glancing over at you as you shrug unapologetically.

“What’s our next move?” Kiara asks as she and the others board the boat while you untie it from the dock before hopping on yourself.

“Let’s check out that motel room. That could give us some answers.” John B then says, shrugging as he studies the key, looking for a name and room number.

“And that’s the exact opposite of what we should do.” Pope tries, looking between you all.

“Aw come on, it’ll be fun. I’ll be lookout.” Kiara says, smiling sweetly as Pope looks to you in a last-ditch effort to get at least one person on his side.

“Screw it, I’m in. But I’m not going on lookout, that’s boring.” You say, teasing Kiara as she rolls her eyes, punching you in the shoulder lightly as you laugh. With a plan now set, John B starts the engine and begins heading off in the direction of the motel.

When you begin to approach the motel, you can’t help but grimace at the appearance of the building, seeing all the damage the hurricane had caused.

“And here I thought the Chateau got the worst of it.” You mumble, surveying the damage that the hurricane had caused to the area.

“Is this a motel or a meth lab? That’s the question.” John B replies, making you chuckle slightly as you moor the boat on land.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Pope mutters as John B joins you on land.

“All you gotta do is make sure no one catches us.” You say, reaching over to pat Pope on the shoulder.

“Exactly, it’s the easiest job. Just chill out here with Kie, we’ll be back.” John B says, slinging an arm over your shoulder as you both grin innocently at Pope before backing away and making your way towards the motel.

“Imagine we get up here and we find someone having a dirty affair or something. Ooh! Maybe they faked a shipwreck so they could run off with their affair partner?” You say as you make your way up the stairs with John B, checking each door number as you walk.

“I think if someone faked a shipwreck for the sake of running away with an affair partner, they wouldn’t still be in the OBX.” John B replies, lightly slapping the back of your head.

“Hear me out. Fake a shipwreck, hide out in a motel and wait for your affair partner to come and meet up with you, and then you run off into the sunset together. Is that not a master plan?” You ask, turning to look at John B as you both walk.

“To you, it’s a master plan. To anyone else, that’s too much effort. They’d just up and leave.” John B replies, rolling his eyes as you huff lightly, both of you stopping short in front of a door.

“This is it.” John B says, checking the number on the key before glancing up at the door. You take a step forward, knocking sharply on the door.

“Hello?” You call out in a sing-songy voice before knocking again, waiting for an answer. When you get no response, you exchange a look with John B.

“No one’s in.” John B mutters, deciding to use the key. You wait, tense, as John B unlocks the door, preparing for someone to jump out at you. When the door is pushed open to reveal an empty room, you both enter, immediately scouring for any sort of information that could point you in the direction of the mystery shipwreck owner.

“Hey, there’s a safe here.” You point out after a couple of minutes of searching and opening a door, noticing the small box, immediately trying to open it, unsurprised to find that it was locked.

“Okay, you look for a code. I’ll try some combinations.” John B says, patting your shoulder as you nod, moving to search the room. You flick through pieces of paper, offering random possible codes to John B and sigh when you’re met with a shake of the head. After shuffling some more papers and maps wondering if the co-ordinates written down had any significance, you catch sight of a scribbled-down sequence of numbers, making your eyebrows furrow.

“Hey, John B.” You say, crossing to your friend and handing him the piece of paper. With the paper in hand, John B inputs the code into the safe, and both of you light up when the safe unlocks, allowing you to see the contents of the safe.

“Is that?” John B questions, pointing out an object in the safe and you immediately reach for it, extracting a gun from the safe.

“Holy shit. Whoever was staying here was nervous about something. Probably something to do with the stacks of cash.” You say, admiring the gun, flipping it over and over in your hands as you fiddle with the weapon.

“y/n, can you please be careful with that?” John B warns, wary of how you were handling the gun.

“C’mon John B I’ve never held a gun before. Shit, this is so cool. I mean my old man has one but you know he’d never let me go near it.” You say, dismissively waving a hand towards John B as you cross to the safe, grabbing stacks of cash.

“y/n, will you just-”

“Chill out. I’m just looking. Besides with how much money’s in here I’m sure they won’t miss a stack or two.” You cut John B off, leafing through the bills and counting how much money you were holding in your hands. As you continue to search for something that could point you in the direction of the owner of the boat, you hear a faint tapping against the window. You turn to John B, both of you confused as he approaches the window, ducking under the blinds before rushing over to the other window.

“What? What is it?” You question, concerned by John B’s sudden movement.

“Cops.” John B mutters and as if cued perfectly, a sharp knock rang out through the room as you and John B dart away from the door. Without thinking, you shove the gun into the waistband of your shorts and stuff as much of the cash as you can into your pockets while John B shuts the safe.

“Kildare County Sheriff’s Department.” Your eyes widen at the all-familiar voice of Shoupe and your eyes flick around the room, searching for a way out.

“Window.” John B whispers, shoving you in the direction of the window and you quickly scramble to open it, climbing through it and tucking yourself against the wall as John B does the same, closing the window behind him as you both exchange a worried glance. The closed blinds concealed your presence but you both knew Shoupe liked to be thorough in his searches and the chances were he might look outside. You glanced over in the direction of where the HMS Pogue was docked, noticing Pope and Kiara waving madly at you, attempting to get you both to come down but when they noticed you weren’t moving, they sat down on the boat, impatiently waiting.

You and John B listen anxiously as Shoupe enters the room with Plumb by his side, both of them pulling on gloves as they begin to investigate the scene. You continuously peek through the gap in the blinds, anxious as to whether they’d consider looking out the window. You watch as Shoupe discovers the safe, opens it up and holds up some money for Plumb. As you shuffled to try and hear them better, your hand bumped against the gun that had been haphazardly shoved into your waistband, sending it clattering across the roof and landing with a thud on the large trash can below.

“Shit.” You mutter quietly, pressing yourself impossibly further against the wall, John B mirroring your actions as you hear the blinds open, meaning that someone is looking out the window. You wait with bated breath, anxious as to whether you’ll be discovered or not.

“Come on, let’s go. There’s no one here.” Shoupe says and you let out a quiet sigh of relief when you hear the two packing up and leaving the room.

“That was too close.” John B scolds you as you climb off the roof, lowering yourself onto the large trash can, scooping up the gun and bolting over to the HMS Pogue with John B by your side.

“What the hell were you two doing? Shoupe could’ve caught you guys.” Pope asks, exasperation clear in his voice as he starts the boat.

“But he didn’t, did he?” You ask, voice oozing with confidence as you settle on the boat, sitting alongside Kiara as you admire the gun in your hand.

“No thanks to you dropping that gun.” John B says, making you roll your eyes.

“I didn’t do it on purpose. Besides, now we have protection and some cash.” You say, pulling the stack out of your pocket, and showing it off to your friends.

“You took money from the room? We can’t keep that!” Pope exclaims, his eyes wide as he notices the money in your hand.

“Why not? It’s not like anyone was there to stop me.” You shrug, admiring the bills in your hand.

“You know I’m up for a scholarship, right? I can’t have this ruining my chances.” Pope says, watching as you stand up, crossing over to Pope and patting him on the back.

“This ain’t going to ruin your chances. No one will know you were there. Trust me. I’m the one who took the cash so if it comes to it, I’ll take the fall. But no one will find out about this money.” You say assuringly, your smile confident as you watch Pope sigh heavily, his shoulders sagging as he exhales.

“Just… don’t let people find out I was involved.” Pope pleads, watching as you salute.

“You got it, Pope. No one will know a thing.” You say with a wink.

As you and your friends reach land, you take the gun and money, tucking them somewhere safe. Soon, you and your friends start to discuss what you could possibly do with the money and while you are mid-conversation, Kiara’s phone buzzes, making her pull her phone out of her pocket, her eyes widening as she reads what’s on the screen.

“What?” John B asks, looking over her shoulder.

“They found a body down at the beach,” Kiara says and all of you scramble to your feet.

“Do you think that could be our guy?” You ask as you all make your way over to the Twinkie, climbing in as John B gets behind the wheel.

“Would it be wrong if I said I hope so?” John B asks, glancing over at you as you shrug.

“It might get us some damn answers if it is our guy.” You mumble, settling back against the chair as John B drives the Twinkie to where the body had been discovered. You all got out of the Twinkie once you arrived, crossing to where some other Pogues were gathered, and sitting with them.

“Do you know who it is?” You ask, settling in between John B and another Pogue, everyone’s eyes fixed on the body as both police and medical personnel study it.

“Scooter Grubbs. Wanna see a picture?” The girl replies, unlocking her phone quickly and showing you and your friends a picture of Scooter’s body. At the mention of Scooter’s name, you couldn’t help but let your eyebrows furrow. If Scooter was the owner of the boat you and the others had discovered, it was beginning to raise questions and you could see it on John B’s face too. Eventually, the police ask you all to move on and you make your way back to the Chateau, itching for answers to the multitude of questions that had now erupted in your mind after discovering the identity of the body.

“Okay, is it just me or is it completely wild that Scooter Grubbs is the owner of that brand-new Grady-White?” You ask, glancing between your friends.

“No, I’m with you. Scooter was the definition of a marina rat. I’ve caught him begging so many times.” John B agrees, nodding over at you.

“My old man used to see him begging along the docks. He’d tried to steal from him once. He never tried it again after that.” You say, recalling the stories you’d heard your father tell your mother.

“So how did someone like that get a boat like a Grady-White?” Pope questions, glancing from person to person.

“Someone must’ve given it to him,” Kiara says, shrugging as you pace, trying to think things over as the puzzle pieces begin to fall into place slowly.

“Why would someone give him a boat? And why would he be out in a hurricane?” Pope continues to question.

“I think you can answer that one y/n.” John B says, pointing over to you as you fold your arms across your chest.

“Smuggling.” You reply bluntly, all too aware of the situations smugglers put themselves in in order to move their cargo.

“Okay, so a guy is dead. y/n stole a shit ton of cash from said dead guy's motel room, and a gun. We have actual evidence pointing to us now.” Pope then says, pointing at you as you roll your eyes.

“Well, we could just use the money. Then it’s gone.” You shrug.

“Use it on what?” John B asks, watching you as your lips turn up in a smile, exchanging a look with Kiara.

“Beach party?”

taglist (comment or ask to be added)

@imsiriuslyreal @marleymarleymarleymarley @sarahmaybank

#justabigassnerd #justabigassnerd writes #in another life #in another life series #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x you #jackson genrette #jackson genrette x reader #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #obx #obx fic #outer banks fic #obx fanfiction

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anika-ann · 2 days ago

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Grace. Grace.

GRACE, oh my goooooood 🥺😭💕

Your reblog has been sitting in my drafts for a while, because I don't even know how to repond to such gift beyond getting all weepy and incoherent but immensely and indescribably grateful🥺

Where do I even start??? Probably by saying thank you, even as that doesn't even hope to encompass the magnitute of feelings this comemnt-reblog brought me. Thank you so so much, for reading and for taking time to write a magnificent reblog that makes me feel like I'm a novelist whose work is being analysed by a very kind literary critic🥲 I can't believe you divided your journey through reading into parts, Grace, I can't even-- 😭😍

Ehm. Me too, I will put my response under cut because of spoiler and because I need to react to SO MUCH PRAISE 🥺 Also I feel like it is absolutely crucial to mention that your comment is damn poetic and like a work of art in its own right 💕

Alright, first of all, I am absolutely delighted you related to the reader easily and that the character and role of nature as the only solace translated so well by you and for you 🥺 That was truly important for me, because the way our little bird feels about nature drives her actions and I need characters' decisions and behaviour to make sense. (Also it's always so wonderful to meet a fellw nature lover who feels the same as me).

TBH, just to know everything would be okay, I'd climb a damn mountain and jump into clueless waters myself if I can.

This is insanely relatable and I'm glad we came full circle 🥲 But I did giggle when reading you liked the apple peel curling into an A 🤭

The snowflakes as "prompt and warning" somewhere in the corner of her mind whilst still waving it off for the fact that nothing can be as worst or as capable of some ugly human minds!

That's just facts but thank you so so much for noting that line 🥺

Holy Fireplace!!!! The way you described Andy surely warmed me up real good, alright!

Hehehe, GOOD. I needed that 🤭 I'm so so glad it worked well for you as contrast and thank you for your praise on the drowning scene it fought me with vigour

It had me sniffing, love. This was simply and poignantly perfect

This has me sniffling. I can't believe a piece of my writing was called poignantly perfect 😭 and a 'marvelous play with words' 🥲

Oh, he had more than a clear idea how better she was feeling! Doesn't he? 😏🤭🤭

...and this made me cackle 🤭I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm an innocent baby and a saint.

And the little bits of introspection she has about her insecurities, relating to Andy, and the back-and-forth just add so much beauty to the whole thing. It makes the story you, Anika! 🥹🫶🏻

'scuse me, I'll just:🥺🥺

I laughed when I found myself nodding at this. It’s absurdly real, though! But how would you ever know that, Anika? You’re fucking gorgeous (healthy friendly flirting stating facts)😍🥹🩷🤭🫶🏻

You beautiful human, you'd better known I'm kissing you on the forehead at least for this an blushing (#healthyfriendlyflirtingrules). Also thank you for appreciating me trying to spill real-life facts of how our world works 🥲

In retrospection, how did you manage to transition from strangers to that TENSION? DARN GOOD JOB! OH. BOI. THE TENSION's got me wheezing and making ugly whimpering noises!

I drugged her to make it happen

Girl, guuuuuurl, thank you so so much for complimenting the tension I tried to built 😭💕 I'm am ecstatic you found the tension believable and while sort-of coming out of nowhere, not coming out of nowhere 🥺

Also, I am happy to serve horny feels 😂 As it is with many fics, self-indulgence is the way and this story has not left me unaffected 🤭 I had to take you down with me ✨

WHAT THE GIANT ICEBERG!!??!!??!!

*blushes and giggles*

I'm crying. Oh no, I want to hold him so badly and comfort him. I know I’m all messed up in the head, or maybe it’s just you writing this so well that I’m aching to comfort him.

If I have the tinniest credit for making you feel that way, I feel like n absolute WINNER

Oh, OH! IT MAKES SENSE!!! The Flashes...IT ALL MAKES SENSE!!! 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

*dances a victory dance because god did she try hard not to make it obvious from the start but slid a hitn ehre and there to all dost to connect and MAKE SENSE indeed 😭* But also - all my love to your nerdy (affectionate) brain 😁💕

You’ve shown the powerful shift between them. My gawd, I’m still grappling with that… his vulnerability, her assuring him, the tattoo…

Thank you, thank you, thank yoooou for remarking 🥺🥲 It's such a gift to have a sweet attentive human notice all the little things I tried my best to weave through 🙏

This reblog-comment, all the praise and love threaded through had, does, and will continue to shine tender light into dark days 💕

I already established that thank you is not enough, but my brain is, again, a useless much of goo and blushes that I don't know how else to express my gratitude. Sending hugs and kisses and love and I hope your days are at least half as kind to you as you are to others 💕

Walking Back Into My Own Myth - A.B.

Type: long one-shot, significantly AU, supernatural elements

Pairing: sorcerer!Andy Barber x reader Word Count: 22,2k (🥹)

Summary: They warn you not to wander the woods alone; but the woods feel more like home than the house you grew up in. They warn you not to confuse your head with childish tales of supernatural; but sometimes fiction feels more real than your own life. They warn you not stay alone with a man you just met, let alone in his house; but sometimes danger lurks in unexpected places. Sometimes, one can rely on the kindness of strangers. ... Or can they?

Warnings: soft dark, NSFW, 18+, smut (unprotected sex, oral, fingering); softdark but rather soft I think (come on, it’s me, also sort-of redemption arc?), dubcon, sex pollen and non-consensual ‘drug’ use, orgasm control, allusions to praise kink, possessiveness; supernatural elements, near drowning, mention of a dead animal, arseholes relatives, allusions to mostly emotional (past) abuse, minor injury and blood, language and SO MANY words and so much smut; 'little bird' as a term of endearment

A/N: Alright. First of all, this is one of rare occurrences of me writing softdark, so be warned. Second, this story is a callback to a perfectly innocent lovely event by @yenzys-lucky-charm back in autumn, specifically to this post. And third, I do realize that 22k fic is a massacre. I believe it flows best when read as a one-shot, but if you are understandably intimidated by that, there is a heart divider approx. in the middle where I feel taking a break is most suitable. At your convenience. Enjoy 💕 A/N 2:Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The frozen leaves were crunching under your boots, a soothing sound between your harsh breaths and huffs and occasional curses interrupting the otherwise peaceful song of the woods; rustle of the glazed grass, soft creaks of the branches bowing to the wind, a barely audible clinks of sharp snowflakes having created a beautiful harmony.

A harmony much needed after you had just left the utter chaos of a family gathering which, as usual, ended up in drowning the holidays in a cesspool of negativity. And as it often did, the negativity seemed to revolve around you.

You didn’t know what you had been thinking, coming here. You had a life outside of this small town, a mostly good one too; you had no reason to visit your hometown whatsoever, year after year, naively hoping for a change. But family was family, your mother always said; one did not turn back to their own blood, even if they had become the almighty big city girl.

As if. As if you were that.

The said big city was now finally feeling at peace as she had walked out of the door, having had her fill of lousy loud human beings, turning to the quiet of nature instead.

The one place where you all truly came from.

The one place that loved you no matter what.

The one place where you had never been and never would be judged.

You had always been drawn to woods, even as a little girl.

To the quiet place to hide from the overwhelmingly loud world, from boys pulling your hair until your eyes watered for their fun, from other girls cutting it for the very same reason, from teachers waving it off with kids can be a bit cruel, so what?

Of course you kept escaping. The embodiment of the cliché of a small town since young age; the designated weirdo. The one who’d rather ran through the woods than the few streets and newly built clothes store; the one who was more interested in fairytales and myths than videogames; the one fascinated by pagan tales from the old continent and local legends than the Bible. The very definition of pariah; side-eyed by peers, looked at through fingers by the adults and elderly. No matter how much you had moved towards normalcy to be approved of during the years, the small-town folk, as always had put the label on you having used the special kind of glue they were experts at making. It stuck.

And so did your love for the woods.

Hikes became your hobby, the woods your only solace. The safest place on Earth; for which many gave you strange looks still, more so since you had moved to a big city that offered but a daily walk in a minuscule patch of greenery.

Naturally, parks weren’t the same as here; here, in the woods, you felt like you could finally breathe.

The only reason why you had chosen the city was your job; your job and the visceral need to leave the very people you had just left in the house far behind. The city was but a jungle of steel and glass and concrete, constant noise and raging sea of people crushing your soul; but if there was one thing you hated more than the suffocating atmosphere of a city, it was the small-town gossip and narrowmindedness.

You only came back to your hometown once a year, for Holidays. And every year, you regretted it.

The constant jabs from your family, about your job, your tiny apartment you finally moved into after years of having to cohabitate with various unique personalities; about your hair and make-up, about your weight, wrong no matter which side of the scale it leaned to. The never-ending biting remarks about being unable to keep a man. And all that, followed by offended comments that you couldn’t take a little teasing.

Mocking was the right word. Goddamn bullying.

So no, you could not take a joke like that; especially when they were twenty in a row.

And you had tried, you truly had. You nodded and chuckled and complimented and helped around the house, but nothing was ever done right. And you suffered the mocking, because in the end, those people were your family and family loved each other and maybe you were indeed a little too sensitive. So you kept trying, year by year. You had been to Sunday school as a kid, despite despising it, really – so for Holidays, you joined everyone in their prayers, coming to midnight mass, participating in traditions. Like a good girl; like a good daughter.

You accepted the family hypocrisy too and participated in that silly and very much non-Christian tradition of theirs, of all single family members throwing apple peels into water to reveal the first letter of their future spouse’s name; every year, despite the game being rigged, an utter nonsense, if for nothing else then for the fact that everyone ended up with an O or C or U, because, well, that was what apple peels looked like. Ironically, all your siblings and cousins had actually married someone whose name started with the very letter they had received in their ‘prophecy’, a little too self-fulfilling for your taste; but you congratulated them anyway and kept throwing the apple peels in too.

And you did it wrong, again; a scandal. This year, your apple peel curled mysteriously enough to a create a form resembling a cursive A, the first in family history. You always had to have something extra, didn’t you? God.

You loved your family; you did. You told yourself you did, because no one was perfect and unconditional love was bull. But you had never felt so completely alone and unloved as when you were with them.

You wondered why that was; and the answer was clearer than the skies on a freezing December night. The tears that stung in your eyes had little to do with the wind growing icier and sharper; it had everything to do with clearly being an unlovable person.

If you never came back from your walk, they probably wouldn’t even notice. Not until they felt like humiliating someone, again, and suddenly realized their favourite target was missing. Who would be their next victim? Probably you. The joy of talking about someone behind their back was a great substitute to laughing to their face, you supposed.

You scoffed and sniffed, shaking your head as you resumed walking. The short trail you had set off to – slightly underdressed, you had to admit – looked different than usual this time of year. Indeed, only the frozen over, crunchy leaves instead of snow; not even winters were what they used to be. You should have never come back.

As the falling snow finally seemed to stick, rather pieces of messy ice than soft snowflakes, you made the executive decision to stay away from your relatives and this town next year.

This year would be last they ever they’d ever see you.

Arriving to the clearing among the trees brought a genuine smile to your lips, the first one in two days. The sight of the lake – too small to become a favourite destination of families during summer heatwave, hugged from afar by tall white birch trees and caressed by long leaves of grass and reeds with a single old willow tree offering a sanctuary to a little girl wishing to enter other worlds through reading – moved something deep within your chest. A memory of peace, nostalgic longing for days when life had been easier – but it hadn’t.

You gulped, letting you heart lead your steps. Pulling out hands from your pockets, your fingertips grazed over the white bark, flexing gently as if to grasp the harmony of the old days where escaping the judging looks by getting lost in old myths still appeared like a plausible solution to all problems. Brushing over the thin branches of the willow tree, you could almost feel the summer breeze toying with the leaves, protecting your ears from the echo of scoffs and cries. Stupid fairytales! Pick a real book for God’s sake at least! Learn the Scripture instead! Blasphemy! Fables for silly children! You’re messing and confusing your head with those childish fantasies!

One corner of your lips rose higher, a memory of just how much fonder you grew of the stories with every speck of dirt people threw at them. Folklore, was the right word. Old wives’ tales. Legends. A touch of magic from times when people still believed in it and wrote their faith into traditions that could be sacred and bloody all at once. How was that different from drinking the blood and eating the body of Christ?

The hypocrisy of a small town.

You too, were a bit of a hypocrite, you assumed; you badmouthed the apple peel tradition, only to dive with fascination into myths and traditions of another; but those, those were yours to explore, yours to cherish. Not pushed at you.

You remembered sitting in the willow’s shade, much smaller at the time, reading with batted breath the stories of crime and punishment for toying with forces beyond human compression, with life and death. A series of stories passed by word of mouth, gathered and weaved into simple poems; a tale of two sisters walking in the death of a night on Christmas Day to a frozen lake, wishing to glimpse their future in the water surface. You recalled the moral of this particular story too; it was better not to know; in the story, one of them learned about her upcoming marriage, the other about her own death. Was it truly something one wanted to know…?

Perhaps there was morbidity to it, but it used to fascinate you; the mystics of it all, the morals, the question of what if you had that chance. What would you do? Would you, too, be seduced by a mirage of your dead beloved to walk to your near demise? Would you give in to the temptation of riches at expense of a life? Would you risk gods’ punishment for wishing to know what only gods were meant to know, your future?

Would you?

With a bitter chuckle, you crouched by the lake, fingers carefully caressing over the thinnest layer of transparent ice.

Years and years ago, even a month ago, you would say it was not worth it to tempt fate. It was better not to know, to be content with what one had at any given moment, to only keep on hoping for a happy ending rather than to learn about an inevitable tragedy; such was the message of the old tale, sticking with you firmly your whole life.

Then, two weeks ago, your cheating dick of a boyfriend – ex-boyfriend, naturally – graciously gifted you a broken heart as an early Christmas gift on top of everything else barely kept together with your weak hands.

Would you like a glimpse of the future, a speckle of hope, looking at you from the water surface? Yeah. Hell, you might jump into the ice-cold lake if it meant someone would tell you everything was going to be okay.

A shiver ran down your spine as a gust of cold wind blew, weaving snowflakes into your hair; a prompt and a warning, you would have thought several years ago, a childlike faith in the supernatural.

But there was no supernatural. Oh no, humans managed to punish themselves and each other just fine on their own, sometimes without a crime preceding it.

With another chuckle – because what was the worst thing that could happen? You’d see your own face staring back? – you pressed against the thin layer of ice, surprised by its firmness.

“What the-“

You leaned into it further, pushing harder, more bewildered by the resistance than anything; a distant sound of a creaking wood reached your ears, the wind playing in the branches.

An echo of a voice.

A soundless whisper of your name.

Your head snapped to the direction of the almost haunting voice, nothing but the clearing and the woods surrounding you.

“I’m losing my mind…” you muttered under your breath, sighing, turning back and pressing against the ice once more.

The sudden loud crack took you by surprise, your feet slipping as you retreated your hand too quickly, losing your balance.

The next thing you knew, a scream was dying in your throat as you gulped for air, the freezing water gripping you neck to toe, your suddenly heavy limbs feeling like having to move through thousands shards of glass.

Your body spasmed painfully at the brutal temperature drop, even your lungs burning from the seemingly colder air.

Your heart thundered in panic, beats so wild the poor muscle might actually burst or simply give out, your temples pulsing with its frantic echo. Your vision blurred with black blending into all the white surrounding you.

This was what encounter with death looked like; ice-cold, sharp, pale and hopeless.

You were going to die and your heavily flailing limps barely keeping your head above water would not be enough to save you. You were going to drown. A bastard child of a sob and desperate gasp for air tore from your lungs, the ice cutting through your skin and flesh.

Then, the haunting call of your name again, closer, warmer.

Come to me.

I need you.

Fight.

You hungrily bit for more air, your head spinning, the voice growing louder with every word, urgent, but soothing all the same, like a helping hand extended.

Don’t you give up.

Come find me.

It might have been God; might have been the spirits of the woods. Most likely, it was the shock making you hear imaginary voices.

Your fists clenched despite feeling like your knuckles were being grazed by razors, a deep cut not drawing blood but making it turn into ice instead. Still; you pushed against the water, feet kicking madly, the tears springing from your eyes as burning as lava in comparison to your skin.

Another kick. Push. Arms so heavy, and so, so cold, thousands of knives piercing your flesh, tearing a desperate raw cry from depth of your lungs.

You squeezed your eyes shut and screamed again, pushing with all your remaining might, throwing your arms around.

Solid surface. Crunchy leaves. Your dug your numb fingers into the stiff ground, grabbing nothing but dirt but pulling and kicking out at the same time anyway.

A minuscule motion; your chin, your neck, on the solid ground. Not thick ice – earth. The woods. Your best friend.

A pathetic cry of laughter burst from your ribcage, shaking violently as you forced your muscles – not even feeling like your own anymore – to keep pulling. To keep kicking out, an absurd imagery of your ex’s face being behind your feet causing you to choke out a brief bark of laughter again and pull. And again and again, your shoulders, torso, legs, sagging against the frozen land.

Your body shook beyond your control as you tried to roll over, your boots making a pathetic splashy sound that barely reached your ears over the pounding in your head. Your chest was expanding and deflating rapidly as you laid on your back, slow blinks against the still falling snow and the sight of grey skies. Every single cell in your body screamed in pain, every motion like a fresh stab wound, but you couldn’t stop; you couldn’t stop shaking.

Whatever survival instinct you had took over as your hands pushed pathetically by your lower back so you could sit up and then scramble to your feet.

The process of standing up seem to last an eternity and half, the temperature dropping further; and when you did stumble to your feet, standing on legs that bent to the wind almost as much as the leafless branches, you nearly toppled over and fell head first back into the lake, your vision blurring.

Whether the water surface would show your future was the furthest thing from your mind; it was just the cold. Brutal, deadly cold. That and warmth.

That, and the strange kind voice, perhaps your very own guardian angel who seemed to love you, the only being in this goddamn universe, whispering in your ears.

Come, my love.

Keep walking.

And you did. Dry sobs erupting from your throat, boots practically freezing to the ground in between every step, exhaustion and the unforgiving cold etched into the very fibre of your being, you dragged one foot along the other, step by step, the miniature distance walked mocking you harder than all your relatives combined.

But it wasn’t their voices you heard; this one was sweet. Like a hot chocolate with whipped cream and pinch of winter spices on top, warming your frozen bones; like what you imagined a hug by a fireplace felt like, a kiss to your temple with affection without pretence. Like gentle palms cradling your face before his lips touched yours, tasting like true love; like a burning touch to your bare skin, dragged so softly, teasingly, before finally giving you what you desired.

Come to me.

I’ll keep you warm.

Keep you safe.

Dark spots danced in your vision, making you dizzy, your heavy eyelids slipping shut; your knees, quaking so hard they could no longer carry you, buckled and sent you plummeting.

Your palms met a rough surface as you flailed your arms out, barely caught against the bark of a tree, scraping your skin enough to draw blood. Your eyes snapped open, another ragged sob tearing from your achy throat.

And that was when your vision cleared despite the blur of tears.

A light.

A cabin. A small house; a cottage? Who the fuck cared.

It was an occupied house; warm light spilling from one of the windows, smoke coming out of the chimney, a promise of everything your body desperately cried for. Almost feeling its warmth radiating all the way to your numb fingertips, you gritted your teeth, strength you never thought you possessed poured straight into your veins, having already almost frozen over.

In the very back of your hazy mind, it occurred to you that you had never seen the house despite your numerous hikes; then again, you had no idea where you had walked, left being right and right being left, the only one certain direction being forward.

Again, who the fuck cared. You had never seen a cozier place in your lifetime; a lifetime that was soon going to end should you not will your useless legs to keep moving forward.

Reaching the porch staircase, you grabbed onto the beautiful wooden railing for balance, propping up to make the step.

And missing it.

You sagged against the railing, barely catching yourself before hitting your head. You propped back up, forcing your leg to rise higher, one step, two steps; the one remaining as tall as the Everest.

You sobbed again, lamenting the absence of the warm honey-like voice. Where was it now, huh? You were so close and needed another nudge, another-

The door of the house opened cautiously, revealing an outline of a figure, inviting light spilling around him; a tall, broad man, his face, the most handsome features you had ever set your eyes on, twisted in a frown and a flicker of horror.

For a beat of motionless silence, it flashed through your slippery mind who of the two of you appeared more frozen in the absurd scene; another beat, light and delicious warmth pouring from inside the house, like an oasis in the middle of a Siberian dessert.

And then he was moving, without a word, only sucking in a horrified breath as his hands slid under your arms and lifted your near deadweight with little effort, helping you not only to overcome the last step, but also the endless distance from the stairs into the doorway.

The interior was warm enough to make angels weep, enveloping you like a loving hug; but his touch felt like a central heating poured into your veins, his grip firm and certain despite the ice patterns having grown on your clothes surely cutting into his skin. Perhaps all alarm bells in your head should be ringing as he kicked the door shut behind you, leaving you alone in the middle of godknowswhere in a stranger’s house, a stranger who was now leaning you against the wall as your legs gave out at last and fought with the zipper of your coat no less, but they didn’t.

No alarm bells; all you heard was his gentle whisper.

“Let’s get you out of these.”

Zipper torn away, hands sliding under the fabric to peel it off of your violently shaking body, your teeth kept clattering.

“I’ll get you warm in no time.”

Your sweatshirt next. Your boots. Your socks; a cry of pain escaped your bluish lips, his warm hands gently enveloping your foot to allow you bask in his warmth.

“I’m sorry, I have to do this. We need to get all these off.”

Your shirt followed.

Your body, as if on instinct, moved slowly but willingly in tandem with him, small motions to aid him rid you of the cold until it didn’t.

You could feel the change of temperature bite into your icy wet skin, a lick of sharp pain; an instinct led you to reach out back for your clothes to fight the once again brutal change.

He grasped your hands, easily gathering your wrists in one palm, a gentle but uncompromising grip.

“No--- no! Look at me. Can you hear me?” he asked.

The squeeze on your wrists and the direct question finally pushed you from mindless haze to blurry reality.

It dawned to you that yes, climbing back into cold soggy clothes would not help.

Jaw quivering, teeth still clattering, you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, only following his order. And oh, were you looking, the reality creeping in slowly, but gaining sharp edges just as a brief smile passed his lips.

“Good.”

That he was. Good.

And incredibly handsome.

Not but a few years older than you, dark well-trimmed beard complimenting his sharply cut features, elegant nose girls must have swooned over as much as over the surprisingly warm blue of his eyes and his slightly messy hair combed up in a way that called for your fingers to run through it. His shoulders and arms, while not enormous, gave impression of being able to carry you without too much issue, lean waist and long legs with muscular thighs making him look like some sort of a fever dream of yours; or in this case, a brain-freeze dream.

“I’m going to pick you up and carry you to the bathroom, alright? I’ll start a bath for you,” he explained, his hands already sliding under your body – and gods, was his touch like a taste of heaven, so deliciously and thoroughly warming against your painful goosebumps – rising to his full height and delivering on his promise as your hands automatically reached to wrap around the back of his neck for stability.

He did not even flinch at the icy touch; he did not even blink at the fact he was now carrying a woman, a perfectly vulnerable woman, stripped to her underwear sticking to her stiff nipples, so cold and soaked through that the fabric might as well be non-existent, completely see through because of course you had chosen white today. But he just kept walking. His gaze roamed, perhaps growing slightly darker, but mostly focused on your face and the path.

He truly must have been a figment of your imagination.

The cloudy droplets remaining on your skin seeped into the lovely light blue of his henley, a shaky apology spilling from your tongue, earning you another smile and a shake of his head, the former turning softer when you stuttered out a ‘thank you’ as well.

Without a word, he set you down once he reached his destination – bless the floor heating feeling like prickly heaven against the soles of your feet – moving to the bathtub and starting the water as you simply stood there, wrapping your arms around your body for both warmth and keeping your non-existent modesty. As he tested the temperature, he checked up on you from the corner of your eye, a swift head-to-toe glance before he took a small bottle by the tub, adding a few droplets to the water. Soon, the bathroom was filled with pleasant smell of fresh blossoms and herbs.

“We can’t have the water too hot as not to shock your system, but this essence can work true magic, believe me. Come on.”

An absurd idea of being thrown into the water and having your head held down under struck you, freezing your feet to the floor.

He remained stood straight by the tub, tall and large and so much stronger than you, hovering. His concerned eyes met yours, suddenly wide with fear.

A warm voice; a haunting whisper.

Come to me.

I’ll keep you warm.

I’ll keep you safe.

A shudder rocked your body, still trembling with the cold having seeped deep enough to reach your very soul.

Come, my love.

I need you.

“Can you hear me, little bird?” a voice cut through the fog of your mind, causing you to wince, an image of a baby swallow of all birds flickering in your vision.

A hazy memory of the innocent sweet creature having fallen from its nest, your own small hands, hands of a curious child, tenderly holding it in both palms as you lifted it back to its home. There you go, little bird.

A sharper memory, hands stained with dirt as you covered the small bird in its shallow grave, having found its wing torn away just as a group of boys were running away from the lake, with a burning hope in your heart that the bad luck meant to follow those who kill a swallow would catch up with them. Your tears felt cold on your cheeks, so cold against the white-hot anger of having seen them hurt an innocent creature, a breathy whisper of sorrow and compassion on your lips. There you go, little bird. No one can hurt you now.

“I’d never hurt you, little bird. I promise.”

You blinked, eyes refocusing on his sincere features, his hands raised in the most universal gesture of meaning no harm.

What an odd phrasing, you thought. What an odd nickname. Endearment, really.

Another shudder ran down your spine, but your feet began moving on their own volition, shaky steps towards the bathtub, the man’s steps, in return, retreating to give you space.

Something in your heart trembled softly at the gesture, the smallest of relieved smiles in the corner of your lips, one he hesitantly reciprocated.

“I’ll leave you now. I will only bring some dry warm clothes and leave them by the door, okay? I’ll wait so you have time to get in,” he assured you. “I’ll knock and I won’t look.”

“W-why?”

The question fell from your lips before you could think twice about it, earning you a sad smile speaking of just how profoundly he understood the duality of the question.

Why wouldn’t you take advantage when it would be so, so easy?-- - Why do you, hell, everyone, think I am not worthy of staying for and looking?

“Because you deserve better, little bird,” he said, sincerity threaded in the simplicity of his words.

You deserve everything, the echo of the warm voice washed over you, fresh tears stinging in your eyes.

“Stay as long as needed. We have all the time in the world.”

With those words, he finally left the bathroom and closed the door. The key remaining in the lock from the inside; you could easily deny him access and force him to place the clothes outside. It would be a wise thing to do, too, to protect yourself, especially with how vulnerable you had already revealed yourself to a stranger, a much larger man who could choke the life out of you or take whatever he pleased.

So why did you want him to come here, to check up on you, to come closer and look, the thought awaking an entirely new kind of heat inside you?

You shook your head, peeling off your ice-cold underwear and climbed into the tub as fast as possible, even as you knew it might hurt at first, the reward only coming after a while.

Instead, an entirely different experience awaited you.

You couldn’t supress the moan of pure bliss as the water enveloped you and warmed you through in an instant with what could only be described as love; tenderly grasping your frozen-through flesh, caressing your skin in a way none of your lovers had ever bothered, leaving not warmth, but heat in its wake, your muscles relaxing and stringing with anticipation all at once.

You observed the water, not having even stilled yet, with mute wonder. Your skin, having earned grey undertones, was back to its natural colour without a tinge of pain, having you swallow a cry of relief. Essential oil or not, your stranger had not exaggerated; this indeed felt true magic.

It was a mere bath; but it felt so sinfully good your body turned pliant in an instant, your adrenalin-filled mind clearing and fogging in bliss.

Carding your fingers through the water curiously, it felt as if the water returned the affection tenfold, caressing your skin all over again, slow and sensual. A circle on the water surface with your middle finger felt like an invisible soft touch up your inner thighs, a teasing that left burning need in your core, so painfully out of place and oh so right and addictive. Swirling your hand in the water playfully; a sensation of hot lips attached to the apex of your thighs, firm and hungry.

“Good--- heavens-“ you sighed, head tipping back, your lips parting with a gasp, something in the back of your mind tingling with danger.

Having nearly died – and the realization should be like a bucket of ice-cold water, a terrible pun intended, but it was nothing short of exhilarating instead – you did not retreat from the danger, sinking into it instead.

The delicious warmth inside you only grew as if a reward, your fingers gliding through the water again, a breathless whimper on your lips as you felt a delicious stroke deep within your sex. Another curling touch to the water; a curling pressure against your special spot, stars flickering behind your eyelids.

“Fuck-“

Come, my love.

I’ll keep you warm.

I’ll keep you-

A knock shattered your illusion; you grabbed the edges of the tub with a gasp, blinking open your eyes not having realized you had closed them, sinful images of the very man who now stood behind the door dissolving and yet remaining torturously vivid in your mind.

“Everything alright, little bird?”

“Y-yes. You can come--- come in,” you stuttered, heat of embarrassment washing over you like a tsunami.

God gracious-

What kind of a crazy person were you?Who in their right mind, no matter how scrambled from near-death experience, would lust and touch themselves – but were you? It felt like someone else did, and gods, did you love that feeling, needing more – who would do this, right in the bath that the kindest stranger, so respectful of their privacy, ran for them? Imagining him, no less, his large warm hands gripping you as if he never wanted to let you go, needed you more than air-

He slowly opened the door ajar, a careful, respectful peek inside the room as he slipped a pile of neatly folded clothes through the crack, his gaze finding yours.

“I hope you’re feeling better, little bird.”

Oh he had no idea just how much better. He couldn’t have and yet, something in his gaze sparkled, something dark akin to amusement, so alluring, quickly replaced by a flicker of contentment once you nodded, not trusting your voice, again. It was only then when you realized you were still slightly above water and perhaps, whether he wanted or not, he did get a peek of your breasts.

Not that he commented on it. Because out of two of you, he was apparently the decent one.

“Good.”

Without any prompting, he moved back.

He was already closing the door, when you blurted out the question. “Wait---! What’s your name?”

You gulped as he paused, his gaze meeting yours again.

“Andy. You can call me Andy.”

You tested the name on your tongue, a sweet treat you found yourself wanting to taste over and over.

He rewarded your efforts with a smile, one that had air catch in your throat.

He had smiled before, a heart-stopping curl of lips on an exceptionally handsome man. But now, for the first time, his smile reached his eyes; warmth like no other spread through your veins, a longing settling in your chest as the door closed and you were left alone – and wanting – once more.

The clothes were too big for you, sleeves and pantlegs too long, unsurprisingly; and unsurprisingly, they were as just as Andy said, warm. And very soft and comfortable, with tones of a scent that made your head spin in the best way, tempting you to bring the sleeves up to your face and breath in deeply just before you rolled them up.

They were just a pair of sweatpants, a henley and a sweatshirt, boxer briefs and a pair of fluffy socks; but they felt like home.

And so did the space.

Andy had carried you up the stairs; a beautiful staircase made out of light wood with traditional sturdy railing, offering a view of the ground floor. Sneaking from the bathroom however, it was not where you headed straight away, your eyes drifting towards the other two door at your level, your stomach making a funny flip; perhaps an office or a guest bedroom and his bedroom. The tingle in your fingertips as your hand reached out of its own volition for the doorhandle was almost unbearable; you had to clench your fist hard enough for your nails to leave moons on your already scraped palms.

You shook your head at your own creepy urge to explore, turning a sharp right towards the stairs instead.

Heading down where you could hear clinks of dishes, you took every step slow, fingertips brushing over the railing; it almost seemed to pulse with warmth of life, causing your breath to catch. Or perhaps it was the view of the ground floor.

When Andy had brought you inside, your vision was still rather blurry, all your attention focused on not dying of hypothermia and on the handsome stranger sent to you by heavens itself; now, when you had the opportunity to appreciate the interior, you did.

The living room seemed as if cut out from a lifestyle magazine, except it didn’t, little details making the scape appear actually lived in. A quilt thrown over the armrest of a small sofa, a pillow or two on each of the pair of armchairs in earthly tones of green, large enough to hide in comfortably with a book, the stony fireplace inviting for cosy winter evenings; the three books balanced on the coffee table in a hazardous stack whispered of how Andy might have spent some of his evening exactly like that. Four bookshelves filled with readings of various length, in between several pieces of art on the wood-panelled walls, not expensive on a first glances, but perhaps all the more loved. A pair of wide windows offered the last remnants of daylight, aided by the warm fire of the fireplace. Multiple plants to compliment the earthly tones and woodwork; and yet what made you smile was the abandoned empty cup, whispering of this place being someone’s home.

Resisting the urge to linger and perhaps examine just how soft was the quilt and how comfortable the armchair would be, you followed the noise to the kitchen; rather spacious as well, tuned to slightly darker colours than the rest of the house, the light entering from large windows prevented it from being too dark in daytime, the lamplights immersing it in warmth at nighttime. The wide counter stretched along two walls as well as the cabinets, creating enough space for variety of dried herbs, teas, spices and other casings as well as several basic appliances, the workspace almost robust in comparison to the dining table with three wooden chairs and soft emerald cushioning.

There seemed to be so much love and attention poured into the space, much like into the cozy living room, that couldn’t but you wonder which of the two were the true heart of the house to Andy.

As you entered and he turned to you with a smile, you couldn’t but believe it might be the kitchen, for he looked as if he belonged; and with an unfair pang of jealousy, you realized it was also hard to believe he lived in his home alone.

Then why did he give you his clothes, a voice in the back of your head questioned. Why did you see no photographs of a lovely wife or family? Why did he look at you from head to toe and back, meeting your gaze with his smile growing, a content, almost possessive glimmer in his eye?

You were losing your mind, you were sure; and the unfairly handsome stranger was the cause of it.

As he was the cause of you liking the fact all too much, the flash of a memory of how good it had felt to play with the water, imagining his hands mapping out every inch of your body, made you shiver and your breathing waver.

You needed to get a goddamn grip on yourself.

But how could you, when his warm voice washed over you, a gentle deep timbre, friendly, resonating in your ribcage?

“Hey. Good enough fit?”

“Yes,” you agreed quickly, clearing your throat as your voice came out rather choked. “Thank you, Andy. I can’t repay you enough.”

“Nonsense. Come sit down,” he beckoned to the table lightly, taking a wooden tray with two cups of tea and a teapot and setting off the same direction. “I don’t know about your tastes, but I think this tea could be just what you need.”

You smiled hesitantly, your heart swelling at his offer. He had already done so much for you, helped you in, ran a downright magical bath for you, lent his clothes to you; sitting down and stealing more of his time felt like an imposition, taking all too much with no way to repay him indeed. And surely, he had so much better things to do.

But it would be impolite to refuse, you argued with yourself as your steps instinctively followed him, as you pretended it wasn’t the way the muscles on his shoulders and back shifted under the thinner navy shirt he had changed into hypnotized you, his mere presence, a certain quiet charm, tempting you to stay. And if was asking you to linger for a while longer… yes, it would be very impolite and you’d be your worst enemy.

After all, tea sounded like a wonderful idea for your suddenly parched throat.

“’Kay.”

His smile with a crinkle in the corner of his eyes was like a caress on your cheek, ending with his fingertips under your chin to tip your head back for a kiss.

You needed to get a grip on yourself. Fast.

As you sat down across the table from him and he set one of the cups in front of you, the strangely sweet herbal aroma washing over you as well as his attentive gaze, you caught yourself wrapping your hands around the cup not only for warmth, but for steadiness as well.

Your heart seemed too unsteady in the face of the handsome man, skipping a startled and entirely too pleased beat when you took note of him doing the same with his cup – almost comically small in his large hands – revealing an absence of a wedding ring.

Come to me.

Come, my love.

I’m all yours.

Heat flushed your face at your observation and at the painfully clear echo of a sweet voice, your head snapping back up.

Andy observed you with certain kind of curiosity in his blue eyes, wordless intensity that almost made his irises appear darker. It had your heart hammer in your chest with everything but fear. It was magnetic, almost coaxing you to climb over that damn table separating you and-

“Thank you,” you blurted out, nodding towards the tea, taking a quick centring breath and then cleared your throat. “You have a lovely home, Andy.”

“Thank you. It took a while but… I did make it into my own space.”

My own space, he said. A deliberate or coincidental choice of words?

Was he telling you, between the lines, that there was no one else and that he had noticed your ogling and didn’t mind, welcomed it even?

Or was it subtle reminder that you were but a guest invading on his own space and peace and his hospitality was nearing if not already overcoming its limit? People did not choose to live secluded like that on accident.

Mostly, you reminded yourself self-deprecatingly.

“Thank you for letting me into your home. I promise to be out of your hair soon,” you assured him. It earned you a disapproving frown.

“Nonsense. I’m glad you’re here. It’s pretty cold outside.”

“No kidding,” you muttered, lowering your gaze briefly. “I just… I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

Meeting his eye again at his thoughtful hum, there was something infinitely warm in his features; it travelled through your veins, a shot of ecstasy of being wanted spreading into every cell in your body and making you feel light and anchored at once.

“Don’t worry, little bird,” he said, one corner of his lips rising higher in almost a smirk as your breath caught at the endearment rolling off his tongue with what could only be liked to indulgence. “That’s impossible.”

He held your gaze, your heart thundering in your ribcage, minute breaths coming out short by the minute as he seemed to lean in closer, stealing oxygen from your lungs, heat pooling in your belly. Fuck, he was so close, tempting lips framed by the beard you just knew would be soft and just the right amount of harsh against your skin, against the intimate flesh of your thighs-

“What happened at the lake?”

You startled in your seat a little, hands twitching, a powerful painful skip of a beat of your heart, the intimate bubble having grown around you popping with a loud snap.

“W-what?” you breathed out. “How did you know-“

“It’s the only body of water nearby,” Andy responded, voice perfectly levelled, oblivious to the cold fingers of fear creeping to the back of your neck. He smiled even, despite the concerned lines on his forehead. “Suppose you didn’t decide to get a dip in the fountain and walked all the way from the centre of the town.”

I’d never hurt you, little bird, I promise, his earlier words echoed in your head, followed by another almost haunting promise.

I’ll keep you safe.

And then, a sultry one:

I’ll keep you.

“Oh.”

You laughed nervously, shoulders slumping.

It felt so silly to be thrown off guard by his question; it made perfect sense he’d figure out you were by the lake. And you had to admit, that quip of his was quite funny too – as much as it was clear he added it to put you at ease.

“Eh, sorry,” you muttered, unsure where to look, too embarrassed to meet his gaze. Your hands found the cup again like a salvation; a steady point and the ideal excuse.

Taking a sip, you were shocked at the alluring taste; sweet with just a hint of something savoury, tingling on your tongue and sending pleasant heat all the way down your spine, euphoria exploding behind your eyelids. You didn’t remember closing your eyes but when they fluttered open, you imagined this was what seeing the world in colour for the first time after years of being blind felt.

You took another sip almost instinctively, certain it had to only be the first impression, sweetly warm liquid a blessing for your body; but it tasted just as delicious, striking every chord of your senses just right and beyond.

“Good?”

You refocused your gaze on Andy, his eyes firmly set on you, an almost mischievous twinkle in his irises.

“Like nothing I’ve had in my life,” you said bluntly, earning a chuckle and – was that a hint of a blush on his cheeks as he lowered his gaze a took a sip as well?

“Uhm, thank you. It’s one of my favourite blends I’ve ever made.”

That stunned you.

“You’ve made this? That’s incredible.”

Granting yourself another taste, you then set the cup down almost religiously. Andy watched you do so, a pleased smile in the corner of his mouth, having returned to holding your gaze, expectant.

Right. He had asked you a question before you experienced a little taste of goddamn Eden on your tongue.

You taste like Eden on my tongue, honey.

A shiver ran down your spine, your mind scrambling for the ice-cold memory of the lake, so wistfully distant and yet digging its claws into you all over again.

“And uhm, to answer your question. I just… I was by the edge, slipped and fell right in,” you said, shrugging it off to hide a different kind of shudder, freezing water as if beginning to pool at your feet, slowly swallowing your ankles and creeping up ad up…. “I didn’t-- the ice wasn’t too thick and I just--- it was… I barely made it out.”

You didn’t realize your hands had started to tremble as your voice trailed off, vision blurring slightly, until a warm hand covered it, steading your hold on the cup. The air had grown too thick in your lungs, making it difficult to breathe in; and then it was gone along with the water, with just a few words and a lingering touch.

“I’m glad you did,” Andy whispered, voice as gentle as his touch. “I’m glad you found this house too. That you’re safe.”

I’ll keep you warm.

I’ll keep you safe.

Concern. Care. A ghost of a promise you had trouble grasping, a voice so close to your ear you could almost feel the warm breath on your skin, but you knew that should you turn, you’d only see air. So you didn’t.

And you could not keep looking forward either, not anymore. Unable to bear the sincere weight of Andy’s words, you instead glanced at his hand enveloping yours so easily, so naturally; so right. As if it belonged there and always had.

But it didn’t, did it?

Your hands, you – didn’t seem to belong anywhere. Never had. No one had ever wanted you to stay. No one had ever cared enough.

Not until Andy.

“Well at least someone is…” you muttered absently, swallowing the sardonic chuckle.

And how pathetic was that? Not of him, but of you? A complete stranger, taking you home like a stray nearly-drowned kitten on Christmas Day, because no one else wanted you and he was the only one to give a damn.

Gods, how sorry he had to feel for you? How fucking lame was it of you to have even thought of him such sinful thoughts when all he must have seen was a-

A gentle press to your hand had you squeeze your eyes shut as to keep the tears suddenly gathering at bay.

“Hey now. What do you mean by that? I’m sure there are plenty of people who worry about you, family, friends… a partner,” he added after a brief hesitation and was that not a case on point.

Of course he was hesitant.

Why would there be one? Who would want you as their partner?

You scoffed.

“Sure,” you echoed.

Heavy silence settled over the room, suffocating and itching, only interrupted by your slow wavery breaths. Andy’s hand remained over yours, as motionless as he seemed overall; a scene frozen in time.

Was he judging you? Resisting the urge to laugh at you? Pitying you? Or did he feel nothing at all, so profoundly disinterested now that you slipped so carelessly, opening up?

That was how things always were, weren’t they? Once façades began to crumble, once people started to reveal true colours, they were vulnerable to judgement; and with the mystery cracked like an old toy, the intrigue was lost, along with their interest.

Was that what was happening now? All the kind care, all the sweet words Andy had said, losing meaning because they never held one in the first place?

Swallowing thickly, you looked up, unable to bear not knowing, preferring to tear off the band-aid at once.

A lump grew in your throat as you caught his eye, worry etched into his expression, a soft frown above an even softer gaze. Compassionate. Gentle. And laced with an inexplicably deep understanding.

He might as well be staring into your soul.

And you didn’t know how; but suddenly the dam just burst.

And you told him all, barely pausing to take a breath.

You told him about having been the pariah all your life, about feeling so alone, only finding solace in nature and fables and myths, at never being enough, for your family, for your friends, colleagues and boss… and clearly for every single one of your boyfriends since two of them had simply left and the latest one hadn’t even had the decency to leave before jumping into someone else’s bed.

About being but a side character to your own story, because no one ever believed you could be important enough to be the lead. And perhaps not even you; not anymore.

But the funny thing was that as the words spilled, you didn’t sob once. As if someone had untangled your tongue and the coil of pain in your chest at once, you went through tender, achy points of your life as if you were listing important plot points of someone else’s story, someone you did not even care for, really.

You wept silently, voice hoarse but steady, tears of not pity nor rage but cold comfort streaming down your burning cheeks.

You sipped your tea in between and all you felt was relief; speaking these things to a man who was basically a stranger, a stranger who showed you more kindness than all people you know had in a year and judged you less than all your past company combined,was incredibly liberating.

It felt like letting go. It felt like dropping dead weight you hadn’t realized you had been carrying, just so you could rise to greatness.

And something unreadable in Andy’s unwavering gaze whispered with tender determination that he believed that was exactly what you were meant to do for some reason.

His thumb ran over the back of your hand, having relaxed in his grip, turning it over to caress the sensitive skin of your wrist, sending a pleasant tingle all the way down to your toes.

“You deserve so much better than your family’s poison, little bird. As for those assholes, the last pathetic piece of shit in particular… well, I bet he doesn’t even realize what’s he lost, he’s just that daft.”

Normally, you had tendency to defend Jason when anyone bad mouthed him, the habit sticking for days after he had revealed himself to be a lying cheating bastard; but now, you remained quiet, a corner of your lips even rising up in a genuine smile as Andy’s finger seemed to draw a nonsensical pattern over your skin as if he wasn’t spitting profanities. Your gaze, tears having already dried, lifted to meet his.

You felt warm; so thoroughly warm as if your bones had been never known a day of summer, achy in the constant cold, until now.

Until this strangely charming man whose silence could speak volumes, whose words felt like a balm to your soul; because unlike when spoken by others, his words threaded lace as tenderly as a spiderweb around the wounds in your heart, cradling it with gentleness and a promise of steadiness.

You couldn’t put your finger on it; something about Andy made you want to believe. And to give in; to anything. To give in to something you hadn’t even realized you had buried and was now creeping its way out to the sun, eager to bask in his comfort and praise.

And gods, the quiet powerful outrage in his voice made your heart flutter, your core stirring with heat and whispering that ‘pathetic’ was the last thing that came to Andy’s mind when looking at you. The heat having taken permanent residence deep within you had nothing to do with the warmth of the bath or the tea and everything to do with his ever-present touch, the rich timbre of his voice, his undivided attention.

“And you’re never alone, little bird.”

Gods, he was handsome; almost maddeningly so. He must have chosen secluded life, you thought; attractive people like him had it easy, people agreeing with them left and right, tripping over their feet to be in their social circle and tend to their needs, bask in their light.

And he was quiet, respectful and so incredibly inviting, making you open yourself up and wishing to be seen, because being seen by him meant being appreciated; it was too much to resist.

“I’m sorry I sprang all this on you,” you said, so dully in comparison to the power behind his own words, but as you did, you realized you should be apologizing. In fact, you should be going; it was getting dark and as lovely as Andy’s attention was… burdening him with your past was the least attractive thing to do and the crawl of embarrassment found its way out onto your skin, your hand retreating from his. “I… I don’t know what got into me. I should go; I definitely am overstaying my welcome at this point.”

Andy tilted his head, brows creasing; not in quite in anger, only discontent.

“I told you; that is impossible. We haven’t even finished the tea,” he pointed out, already reaching to pour you another cup. “And I’m glad you got this out of your chest, it feels like you needed that. And I was happy to listen… as much as I feel like someone should teach your asshole ex how to treat a woman as precious as you.”

You gulped at his last words, the flutter in your heart inevitable at his praise, your exhale slow and shaky as Andy’s fingers carefully found your hand again once he finished serving the tea. You hesitated in retreating your hand again, the touch almost electrifying.

You were flattered; so awfully flattered and absurdly needy for this man and his attention which seemed to go way beyond what you could imagine in your wildest dreams.

It would be so easy to be convinced to stay a little longer, perhaps explore what turn the afternoon, evening or even night might take; which was why you had to leave. Because this was not you.

Was it?

Andy’s fingers interlaced with yours, his voice dropping to a murmur. “If I had a woman like you, I’d cherish her every day. I’d treat her like a damn queen.”

You couldn’t explain it; the sensation came as sudden as lightning from clear skies and just as powerful; his words like a tender kiss to your throat, right over your carotid, your eyes fluttering shut, your breath stuck in your lungs.

A hazy image of a living room, a cup with a couple of swallows drawn in thin lines on the coffee table, fading into a blur as the focus shifted on one of the armchairs; you sprawled in it like a queen indeed, one hand laid on the armrest in a fierce grip as your fingers interlaced with those of another, the other hand tangled in his hair.

Bare thighs held apart by Andy’s shoulders wedged in between, a large hand pressing firmly against the flesh of your inner thigh as if burning a brand, his tongue licking deep into your pulsing channel, his beard the most delicious burn against your sensitive folds, his groans and your moans mingling in music of eager lovers, head thrown back with your throat raw from the cries of his name.

“Andy, please-“

The potent jolt of pleasure in your core snapped you back to reality with a gasp on your lips, furious blinks focusing your vision back to Andy’s face; there was a gleam in his eye, but it was his smile, so genuine as he squeezed your fingers reassuringly, so damn gentle and completely unaware of how aroused and wet you were, that had you feel a pang of shame in your gut.

What was wrong with you-

“Like you deserve. You deserve so much better and so much more, little bird.”

You deserve everything.

I will give it to you.

You’re mine to keep and cherish-

“Thank-- thank you,” you stuttered out, head swimming with the echoes of the poignant image, swearing you could feel brands tenderly burned into your skin where Andy had touched you, a tingle in your core as he tasted you so indulgingly, an echo of his beard burning your intimate flesh--- except Andy had not done either of these things outside of your messed-up head.

“Nothing to thank for, little bird,” he said, a lopsided smile adorning his lips even as his brows creased in a soft frown. “We’re missing something here. How would you feel about cookies with your tea?”

Staying for another cup of tea was a terrible, wonderful idea.

Basking in Andy’s presence with his attention focused solely and so unwaveringly on you flushed your cheeks with heat and kept stirring the barely containable explosive attraction to him; but worst of all, it lowered your inhibitions bit by bit, your confidence, as shaky as it was these days, growing under his touch and seemingly genuine interest.

Interest in you.

You had long abandoned the idea of him viewing you as completely pathetic; and with each inch of space between you disappearing, your heartbeat was picking up. With each half-smile, with every question about what you considered the most boring cliché parts of you, you were being pulled into his orbit, intrigued by the lack of sharing information about himself all the more.

“I’m not all that interesting, little bird,” he said when you asked. Instead of an answer, you were gifted another inch of distance erased, his stormy blue eyes boring into yours. “I’d rather hear all about you.”

He was a beautiful puzzle; and the more enigmatic he appeared in comparison to you as you stripped a layer after layer of yourself, the more you craved to figure him out.

And with every entry into his mind kindly denied, you found yourself craving to explore him in the physical world then at least.

To feel the muscles of his arms shift under your palm, to confirm his lips tasted as sweet as the tea he had been drinking with you, to find out just how much of a mark his beard could leave behind when his lips trailed down the column of your throat, over the sensitive skin of your thighs. The need burned within you, causing you to shift in your seat several times already in search for friction, your body almost beyond your control as you turned your still connected hands so your smaller one covered the back of his, most of your willpower focused on not slipping your fingers under the hem of Andy’s sleeve to brush your fingers over his forearm, the very forearm you could almost feel pressing against your throat softly as he pushed you against the wall and drove into you with wild abandon, over and over until your knees could not hold you-

“Give me something, Andy,” you asked, fighting to keep your voice steady as you felt your breathing quickening again with the unholy images painted in your head. “What do you enjoy doing? What is your favourite meal, favourite colour, season even… scent or taste?”

Oh honey, you know my favourite taste.

I’ll have you taste it on my tongue once I’ve had my fill.

A scorching shudder rushed down your spine, your hand automatically reaching for your cup as your throat turned dry for the n-th time in Andy’s presence.

“I enjoy working with herbs,” he admitted after a while, an absent, fond note to his voice. “Essential oils. Natural remedies. Teas and… others--- What?”

For the first time in a while, his words did not provoke a visceral reaction; not the kind that kindled the crackling heat within you. Rather curiosity and admiration, your smile softening without your permission.

“I know you said you’ve made the tea… hell, probably the essential oil for the bath too.” He nodded in confirmation, tilting his head slightly in curiosity. “It’s just… I would have never guessed. You…”

“What is it?”

You chuckled, shaking your head, worried you’d offend him not by your thoughts, but by your clumsiness. But a squeeze on your hand encouraged you gently, having you lick your lips as you gathered your scattered thoughts.

They all seemed so scattered in the past hours, gathering only for all of them to be pulled to Andy and the intense stormy gaze of his.

Storm. Danger and freedom. Freedom to be.

“It’s silly, you just… you seem like the kind of person whose mind is always racing. This… quiet force, keeping to yourself, intelligent, so strictly rational,” you tried to explain, already feeling like you were failing.

“Are you saying I’m a madman for my interests, little bird? A charlatan?”

Something flashed in his eye, but not angry; challenging almost, tantalizing, making your breath hitch.

Try me, honey.

Oh? Look at you, giving up so easy.

Giving yourself up to me.

You shook your head, both to erase the sultry voice in your head and the sinful images it painted and to deny Andy’s words.

“No. I’m saying many people would argue that trusting herbal remedies and nature’s healing power is everything but rational. But-“

“But you are not one of those people, are you?” he finished for you, a slow smile spreading on his lips, just a hint of condescending that seemed to pull you in closer despite your better judgement. “You know better than that, little bird, don’t you?”

Let me, honey.

Let me and I’ll teach you all you need to know.

You gulped, willing your lips curl up in a smile. “I do. That’s why I keep coming back from the city. Nature will always feel like home.”

Andy hummed, a satisfied smirk that felt like a lick straight up your core settling on his lips, causing your free hand to curl in a fist at the sudden blissful assault on your senses--- gods what was happening with you?

“Speaking of power… you called me a quiet force. What did you mean by that?”

Caught off guard in more ways than one, you cursed the slip of his--your tongue.

“Well, I didn’t mean that as a bad thing-”

“Explain it to me then, little bird,” he coaxed, gaze hypnotizing you, seeing so deep you were sure he was becoming aware of the effect he had on you, if he hadn’t known the whole time, that goddamn smirk of his almost wolfish, a taunt you desperately wanted to respond to as your body had been for hours now. “If it’s not bad, what is it?”

It was obvious it had to be the opposite then; but he wanted you to say it. There was no denying the heady tension in the room, setting your skin aflame; there was no denying he was flirting and he was not at all subtle about it anymore and yet, the cold silver of insecurity whispered to you that you should hold back, hold up the last defence before he could destroy you completely.

“Sometimes… there’s power in silence,” you whispered, honestly and yet evasively. “It makes words even more powerful then.”

He considered your words for a moment, gaze flickering down to your lips, your tongue instinctively flicking out to wet the sudden dryness.

“So you’d rather we sit in silence?”

But you make such beautiful noises for me.

Don’t hide from me.

Let me hear it all.

You were going to suffocate.

You were going to suffocate if Andy’s hand didn’t move, didn’t grasp your wrist and pulled you up, his body colliding with yours so your lips could meet and he could drink the answer straight from your mouth just for his other hand to sneak between your bodies to tease and taunt you with his fingers, sliding so easily into your sweatpants, his clothes like a claim on you, more of a claim to have them pool at your feet as his fingers finally breached you-

Your breaths were coming out short despite your efforts to slow them down, your core pulsing as if you had been kept on the edge of bliss for hours, knowing the feeling all too well despite never having had a lover attentive enough to bother with even five minutes.

“Not-- not quite. I like… talking to you.”

“Mmm, me too. Why is that?”

You shrugged with a shaky smile, shifting in your seat and rubbing your thighs together as his voice, that damn voice, Andy’s and the sultry one in your head sounding just like him, felt like a relentless teasing in its own right.

“I--- I like hearing what you have to say. And I… like your voice. It’s warm… gentle.”

And sinful. Powerful.

So powerful you could command me to get on my knees for you and I would, without a single thought, stripped bare if you wished so, lips parted for you and awaiting, dripping down my thighs like I am now, pleading for you to use me, basking in your possessive touch, gentle or rough or both, crying my voice hoarse when begging for more-

The potency behind your own thoughts had you jump to your feet with a loud scrape on a chair that seemed to barely rattle Andy as you slipped from his grasp, his gaze simply following you, the smile remaining on his lips.

“I should go-“

He straightened in his chair, forearms leaning onto the table, his sleeves riding up just an inch, the silver of skin causing your head spin with the urge to touch it, to lead him to lay it over your own throat as you’d walk backwards toward a wall-

“Stay, little bird. It’s already dark and… don’t you want a reprieve from the chaos, from the terrible behaviour of your relatives?” he questioned, both reasons somehow seeming like but an afterthought. “You should stay. I have a guest room if that’s what you’d like.”

But I don’t think you do.

I think you want something else.

All you need is to ask, honey.

Ask and I’ll make sure gods themselves hear your cries when you shatter for me over and over and still beg for more.

“I-“

He reached out for your wrist, long fingers circling it easily and pressing just a little.

The touch rushed through you like a wildfire, whiting out your vision.

A large sculpted body covering yours, lips drinking hungrily and sharing the sweet tangy taste on his tongue as you whimpered, craving more and more and more. One hand circled around your wrist to keep your hand pinned next to your head, his free hand roaming, pinching, squeezing, until it settled on your hip, grabbing firmly to guide you as he thrusted into you, so deeply and fully, his tongue wickedly exploring your mouth and swallowing your every plea to never stop, his name the only thing in your mind and on your lips, your other hand fisting the sheets as you desperately tried to meet his thrusts halfway; to have him reach deeper, to own you, to mark you, to make you his, only you, only him, always.

The pleasure pulsed within you as strong as if you were just there, nearly causing your knees to buckle, your hand barely catching onto the edge of the table.

And all of sudden all you could see was Andy’s face, smirk wiped off to make space for concern as he towered over you, one hand firmly holding yours while the other carefully rested on your hip to support you.

“Are you alright, little bird?”

No. No you weren’t.

You were losing your goddamn mind and he was not helping and you should go whether it was dark or not, because if you didn’t, you’d grab Andy by the hem of his stupidly ordinary shirt that was hiding the most delicious body and you’d kiss him deep, begging him to do to you all the things your mind had conjured in his presence, pleading him to have you however he’d like, to use your body in the most depraved ways he could think of.

“I’m fine,” you choked out, stepping back hastily and on instinct beaten into you – verbally and more than once literally – since childhood, you grabbed your empty cup and walked to the sink, feeling Andy’s worried and bewildered gaze on the back of your head as you started the water.

The worry etched into his gaze just before you escaped his grasp – so genuine and kind – made you wonder just how out of your mind you were.

How much of the flirting you had imagined as an aftermath of hearing a voice so painfully similar to his giving you promises dripping with sin? How much of it had been real? Your own body was your worst enemy, betraying your attraction to the man who hadn’t hesitated to help you, respectful when he had had all the chances to take advantage---

Just how much of his actions had been sincere, nothing but selfless aid to a person in need, that your brain had twisted into a desire of his to mirror your own?

Your hands trembled as you washed the cup, the echoes of pleasure still travelling through your body, now soured with doubt and fear of your own wild imagination.

Andy’s warm presence behind you made your breath hitch, tension building in your back as all your body called for was to drop the damn ceramics and lean back to his front, rubbing like a cat in need of affection, to grasp his hand and lead it to the apex of your thighs and just press to relieve some of the painful throbbing. He reached around you to stop the water as you stood taut like a bowstring about to snap, feeling his breath fan over your cheek, your lips parting to taste it on instinct, eyes falling shut.

Please, you wanted to whisper or scream, not sure what you would beg for. Just please.

“No, little bird… queens don’t do the dishes. Less so when they are guests in my house.”

You gulped as you felt him take the cup from your now motionless hands, setting it down carefully to the sink, the heat radiating off his chest too much to bear.

“I’m… not a queen.”

The words were meant to be filled with humour, self-deprecation even, but you barely spoke at all, throat almost too tight to get the words through.

“I will treat you like one,” he promised, a tempting rumble in his chest, his lips mere inch from your burning skin, his beard scratching it just slightly, sending you spiralling into madness. “If you let me.”

Let me, honey.

Let me break you in ways you didn’t know you always yearned to be broken and then put you back together.

Ler me claim you.

And fuck, you should go.

You really, really should go, but as you opened your eyes, catching a glimpse of your reflection in the window, your eyes wide and cheeks flushed as if you had a fever, his presence the problem and the remedy at once, you couldn’t will your feet to move.

As if trapped in his orbit as he watched you in the reflection too, eyes as dark and burning as coal, his gravity pulled you in; you turned your head towards him, hesitantly meeting his gaze, instantly finding yourself trapped in it.

Scorching heat licked at your core, spreading through your veins like a wildfire when his fingers traced along your jaw, lips hovering so close to yours as if still asking permission and yet, his thumb pressed against the corner of your mouth as if he was the one who couldn’t contain himself. You shuddered violently at the simple touch, your muscles clenching harder as not to fold and lose your last crumbling defences.

Why resist, little bird?

You’re already mine, aren’t you?

Always have been.

“Stay, little bird. Stay and I’ll show you how you deserve to be treated… loved on,” he coaxed, gaze flickering to your lips having pressed in thin line to contain the whimper threatening to spill; his thumb brushed over your lower lip and tugged lightly, leaving no hope for the next needy sound not to escape. Gods, the spark of lust in his eye, the satisfied drop in his voice at seeing your body betray your desire, gravitating towards his. “That’s it. Let me show you how precious you are. How beautiful… how tempting.”

He released your lips from his touch only in favour of skimming his own over your mouth, nothing short of a temptation, as if you weren’t already seduced by the sweet promise alone.

Shock of pleasure rippled through you at the barely-there contact, images flashing though your mind anew, Andy kneeling between your legs as you lied sprawled in the armchair, your body trapped under his so sweetly and torturously as he filled you like no other, his lips devouring you as you laid facing him on the very bed, bandaged hand on your hip, his dextrous fingers sneaking to tease you open for him, his hardness pressing against you, his name a breathless plea falling from your lips.

And as the mirages dispersed, the throbbing need stayed.

“Please,” you heard yourself whisper and for the second time today, the dam broke, letting all you had been keeping for what felt like eternity spill out without control.

The second his lips fully pressed to yours, you were lost and felt finally found.

Explosive desire all but set you aflame as his hand moved to your hip to spin you just so he could corner you against the sink, his other hand grabbing the back of your neck to keep you steady.

And fuck did you need to be kept steady, because his lips didn’t explore carefully; he devoured you right away, your desperate whimper swallowed by his tongue licking into your mouth, your hands having somehow scrambled to grip the fabric of his shirt and fisting it as you pulled him even closer, every inch where his body touched yours a salvation by hellfire; every empty space between you like icy winds.

Coming out for air felt like drowning in the frozen lake all over again, body only warmed by Andy’s lips tracing a burning path down your throat, the zipper of your hoodie tugged down, fabric pushed aside to reveal the painfully stiffened nipples under the thin fabric of the henley, a satisfied groan vibrating against your carotid as Andy cupped your breast a flicked his thumb over the hardened peak.

He might have as well relentlessly played your body for hours, the surge of pleasure causing your hips to meet his in a frantic search for more, your head spinning. You were burning. You were burning and you were cold and you were going to lose your damn mind unless he spun you around, tore your clothes away and filled you up with his cock this very fucking second-

“Andy, please-“

“Please what, little bird?” he chuckled darkly, the scrape of his beard and the huff of air against your throat unfairly spine-tingling.

His hand sneaked under the henley, fingertips brushing over your belly, over your ribs, squeezing your flesh higher and higher, his other hand carding into your hair and not quite tugging, but keeping it in a firm enough grip to prevent you from escaping the assault of his mouth on your throat.

As fucking if you wanted to escape this-

“I need you,” you choked out, feeling the desperate tremble in your body.

Somewhere back in your mind was a small voice wondered how you had never needed a man like this, wanted yes, but not like this; you craved him. For this, for his touch, for his mouth back on yours, for a single point of contact you’d claw your way out of hell.

You released the dead grip you had on his shirt just to slide under the fabric and the pulse in your core at finally truly touching him was nothing short of unholy and you needed more.

“Oh honey. What do you need from me?”

He rocked his hips against yours, his hardness pressing briefly against your mound and you whimpered, your knees nearly buckling.

Yes, yes, yes, again-

“Maybe this?” he suggested huskily as he repeated the motion against your arching body, a cry escaping your lips, feverish words you no longer had a control over spilling as the all-consuming fire licked at your insides.

More, more, more-

“Yes. Please--- touch me, take me-- make me yours- please”

Andy stepped back, your body suddenly feeling freezing cold, his hold on your hair easing so you could face him as he stared straight into your eyes – the perfect picture of desire personified with crimson lips curled in a smirk and irises almost swallowed by how wide his pupils were blown. Absurd fear of him rejecting you now, now after he had given you a taste, filled your lungs like icy waters, reluctantly melting as his broad palm made its way down your front torturously slow, fingers almost absently tangling in the laces of your sweatpants as he stopped just so far from where you needed him the most.

He held you gaze just as you held your breath in anticipation, his fingers sliding under the hem of your sweats, under the waistband of the boxershorts and lower and lower as he spoke, the sight of him hypnotizing like eyes of a predator to a willing prey.

“Oh little bird, that is exactly my intention,” he assured you, barely audible over the roar of blood in your ears, your whole body vibrating with need. Please, please, touch me- “But I’ve been a good host, haven’t I? So I think--- fuck, you’re drenched for me, so fucking needy--- that it’s time for me to feast and taste as much of you as I want.”

You didn’t quite hear him over the whine crawling out of your throat as he dipped his fingertips in your slick only to quickly retreat his hand and leave you so torturously empty again.

But gods, he kissed you and you could breathe again even as it wasn’t enough, his grip on your hip steering you to move, to walk backwards, your vision a blur, all your senses swallowed by Andy; his hot lips and skilled tongue, demanding touch echoing your own, grabbing you, searching almost frantically for places he hadn’t explored yet, mirroring your own greedy hands, your sweatshirt lost somewhere on the way as he steered you to the right, your nostrils full of his scent and the sweet aroma of the tea indeed having lingered on his lips—and suddenly you were stumbling and falling, soft landing in Andy’s arm as he lowered you to one of the armchairs, pulling at your sweatpants and boxers at once, his touch finally back where you craved it more than anything you ever had in your damn life, his name a broken prayer on your lips.

And then his lips were gone from yours, trailing down your neck, a graze of teeth that made you see stars, his thumb circling your sensitive bud and causing your hips to jerk into his hand, a sweet chuckle dripping of sin filling your ears.

“So responsive, little bird, so needy… don’t worry, I’ll give you what you need,” he vowed, your eyes opening half-mast only to witness him retreat and sit back on his heels, his hands planted on your knees, mouth attaching to your inner thigh just above your knee, a poor substitute to the taste of heaven his thumb had offered you.

He was tormenting you; he was tormenting you, denying you what you craved, not only stalling but stalling further, his mouth leaving hot wet trail up your drenched inner thigh, the sensitive flesh burning under the soft scrape of his beard, your legs spreading in mute yet urgent plea. And still, he continued indulgingly slow; your hand twitched as to move and give yourself some relief, but an instinct warned you that it could only prolong your torture.

“Andy-“

He smiled at you from where he had just pressed a bruising kiss to your flesh, eyes dark as the night itself, glimmering in the dancing flames of the fireplace reflecting on the goddamn mug you had spied earlier too, reminding you of how his lips had touched the edge of his cup with indulgence, how he had met your gaze as if he had known, as if he had known already he was about to drink from you.

It was not enough; nothing was enough, and you shifted in his grip, your hips sliding lower on the chair, core pulsing in emptiness.

“Please, please, Andy, don’t keep me waiting, I need you-“

One of his warm palms sprawled over your lower belly, pressing hard to keep you still, his tongue licking a languid stripe up your skin glistening with your juices, and he was so so so close-

“Fuck, honey, you taste so sweet… such a vision, begging for me so prettily.”

You didn’t recognize your voice as you sobbed in frustration of being praised in vain when he didn’t touch you when you NEEDED IT--- and then you were throwing your head back as wave of ecstasy washed over you, Andy finally flicking his tongue over the cut of you.

You grabbed the armrests with such vigour you might worry about breaking it had you not been delirious with want, hips bucking forward and this time, Andy had mercy on you – he groaned at the taste of you, licking with indulgence, twisting his tongue just right, his hold on you easing as the pressure inside you built and built and you were meeting his advances with enthusiasm, your hand finding purchase on his hair, to ground yourself, to beg him to continue without words because you had no voice.

You were tittering on the edge of release, every single cell in your body singing praise to Andy’s name for the waves of bliss almost reaching you, when his hand found yours and tore it from the armrest, fingers interlacing with yours and squeezing.

You would have never thought that could be your undoing, but it was.

Stars exploded in your veins and you tasted stardust on your tongue, a raw cry torn out from your throat, your back arching as white-hot pleasure shot down your spine and curled in your core with the heat of supernova being born.

And it wasn’t stopping. Andy wasn’t stopping, instead he pushed harder against your hips as you writhed against the overwhelming sensations, his tongue curling and breaching you, tasting the very depths of you and your cries were a breathless plea to the gods to have mercy on you and to Andy to give you more and more and more-

His pleased groan resonated in your bones, the force of bliss nearly shattering them to dust for the winds to take; but instead, Andy’s grip on your body moulded them into something torturously beautiful and divine, the sound pulled from your lips nearly unhuman as you fell apart, the world tilting from its axis and balancing on the only steady point of the damn universe, on his hold on you, his tongue gathering proves of your undoing with lustful glee, his thumb drawing circles and swirls over your hipbone in silent approval.

By the time his mouth finally retreated, you were shaking, chest rising and falling in rapid successions, your vision blurry with tears as he rose to his feet and released your hand in favour of cradling your wet cheek, the forefinger of his other hand following the salty path of your tears, painting your swollen lips with them tenderly.

Even with vision unfocused, you were all too aware of the straining fabric of his pants, of the lustful glimmer in his eyes, lips shining with your arousal curling in an almost sweet smile.

“You’re stunning when you fall apart for me, little bird. Even more so than I imagined,” he declared softly, so painfully softly you couldn’t but whimper at the praise, the sound muted as his thumb pressed against your lips much like back in the kitchen, this time pushing its way inside your mouth, gaze zeroing on the eager reaction of your body.

You sucked his finger right in, almost blinding desire bursting in your belly, a carving for just a taste of him, for feeling the weight of him in your mouth as you’d swirl your tongue around him, heady aroma of sex filling your head. You needed. You needed to feel him and your hand acted without your permission, reaching to stroke his hardness, to move to kneel in front of him right there and feel the hard floor against your knees because it wouldn’t matter, it would be fucking privilege to-

Andy’s hand landed on your shoulder, light but firm, his eyes still feasting on you hungrily sucking on his thumb with a heart-stopping smile, tongue sneaking out to lick his lips as you still reached to feel the weight of him in your hand at least, moaning around his finger as the true craving – to have him fill you where it mattered the most – rocked through your entire body.

“So eager, little bird… but not now,” he retreated his hand from your mouth, gently slapping away your hand from him and pulling you to your shaky feet instead, body flush to his, lips on your ear. “You asked me to make you mine and that’s exactly what I’m gonna do.”

You weren’t sure how exactly you got upstairs between stumbling on your boneless feet, your greedy hands and all-consuming assaults of his lips on yours; but what you were all too aware of was how whenever his lips detached from your mouth, you were already missing them as if it had been eons, and when he released you from his hold in order to strip his pants and boxers and to rid you of your top, it made your body cry for his attention all the more.

You had but a glimpse of his length and it made your mouth water, your core pulsing in desperate emptiness all the more painful when he sat on the edge of the bed and you could finally take him in your hand, appreciating the smooth warmth length, precum leaking, inviting you to stroke him and sink onto him right away.

“Come to me, little bird,” he husked, tugging at your wrist to have you straddle his thighs, hand like a burning brand landing on your hip, already pushing you down as if you needed encouragement.

His name fell from your lips like a prayer when you felt the head of his thick cock catch at your entrance, hips bucking in foolish need to take him all at once, to have him fill you to the brim.

“Yes, little bird, I’m right here… look at me.”

His broad palm cradled your cheek, sliding along your jaw to grip just a little too tight and force you to meet his hungry gaze even as your own irises must have glazed over when you slowly begun sinking down on him, satisfaction and greed shooting through your veins and curling in your lower belly, your thighs shaking with effort to hold yourself back.

Until you couldn’t.

With a desperate whimper you pushed your hips flush to his despite the slight tinge of pain, the reward of white-hot pleasure all-consuming, Andy’s groan like the sweetest melody and a soothing caress down your back.

Fuck, he was breath-taking and you could die right there and hell you would die if you didn’t move, didn’t feel the deliciously thick length of him drag slowly through your pulsing walls, driving into you again and again, filling you like no other, slow, fast, deep, sloppy, it didn’t matter, you just needed more, you needed to move, bracing on his broad shoulders, nails digging into his bicep, you needed-

He pressed firmly on your hip to keep you still, your cry of despair at being denied swallowed by his mouth, his smile wicked and addictive, only feeding your desire to feel him more, your muscles straining as you fought to rock your hips just a little, needing the smallest friction like your life depended on it.

And Andy wouldn’t let you.

With strength beyond comprehension, he held your middle in a cage, his mouth having never ceased to devour you as his free hand slid from your face, fingers trailing over your collarbone to your breast, fondling all too briefly as you tried to arch into his touch, before he moved on over your belly, pads of fingers circling in the slick dripping down his length, a languid caress where you were connected like a bolt of lightning down your spine urging you to try and thrust forward only to remain achingly still, a whimper pushing past your lips.

It bordered on cruelty; your core pulsed with such force it almost hurt, every cell in your body as if on fire only Andy could quench but instead continued to tease you, groaning into your mouth as he indulged at the sensation of being sheathed in your throbbing warmth.

The relief when his fingers retreated was a punishment all the same, the second his touch disappeared your body crying for it to return. His lips detached from yours just as his palm sprawled over your lower belly, so full of him, his voice a rumbling siren’s song as you felt sweat running down your back from the tension taunting your muscles.

“You feel me, honey? Feel how deep I am?”

He watched you with hooded gaze, predator boasting at catching his prey in a deadly trap she so willingly crawled into, your core spasming at the hunger in his dark eyes hypnotizing yours, half-mad with the animalistic desire.

“Yes-“

With a satisfied hum, his hand retreated again, causing you to whimper because no, that was where you wanted him to touch you, you wanted it everywhere, you needed him to keep owning you—

“Fuck-“ you sobbed as his fingers trailed over your throbbing clit, your walls clenching around his length, your abdomen trembling with effort to fight his grip and chase your release. “Andy, please, I-“

“Oh, but this isn’t just about you, honey, is it?” he scolded you gently, hoarse voice dripping sin and satisfaction as he returned to petting the apex of your thighs, the sensitive flesh gripping him like a vice and it was just not enough. “I wonder how long you could keep still on your own if I asked you, how long until you’d beg me-“

Not a second longer was the answer, more so when he twisted his hand so wickedly that long fingers continued teasing your entrance while his thumb circled your clit, agonizing need rushing through you like an electrical current, your whole body arching and yet staying so painfully still, writhing in his hold, tears of frustration gathering in your eyes.

“Please, please, please, please, Andy, love, please-“

His fingers stilled, ceasing their torture and yet it felt like denying you further until just as your sob pushed past your lips, his hand gently cupped your face, so painfully tender it had your wet eyelashes flutter, a sudden reprieve as Andy’s gaze seemed to trapped you outside of time and space and your own body; it felt like a sip of fresh water on an unbearably hot day, his damp fingers tracing the lines of your face, something flashing in his gaze, something you could not hope to comprehend but felt so achingly soft.

“Gods, you’re a vision, little bird, so beautiful… so thoroughly and undeniably mine, aren’t you?” he whispered, something akin to reverence in his voice as he continued to brush his fingertips over your skin as if committing you to memory.

And then he was kissing you; your breath caught at the unspeakable delicacy of the kiss, even his beard feeling softer as his lips carefully danced against yours, almost meekly, as if you could dissipate into thin air if he pressed too hard. The disparity to his previous advances was staggering, your heart fluttering, tears gathering in your eyes for an entirely different reason. He was just so damn soft.

“Andy…”

His smile against your lips was just as delicate as his kiss, your heart stumbling in your chest when you found him observing you with glassy eyes, his thumb, still carrying the heady aroma of your juices, brushing over your lower lip lovingly.

“I’ll give you everything I have, love… can’t seem to deny you,” he mused, one corner of his lips twitching up, his hand slowly sliding down your body, appreciating every inch of flesh in its path, his touch growing firmer as he went, his lips nearing yours again, his deadgrip on your hips releasing at last, speaking his next words directly to your mouth and angling the world from its axis all over again. “Take what you need, little bird.”

The words cut through you like a bolt of lightning, burning through every fibre of your being at once, the violent desire having been building through the past hours slamming into you at once, twice as hard, impossible to contain.

A breathless scream tore from your throat.

You cried out Andy’s name, your body acting on an animalistic instinct of chasing pleasure now that it finally could, nails digging into his shoulders for support as you rocked your hips against his with wild abandon, head thrown back in ecstasy every drag of his length through your tight walls sparked anew, coil rapidly tightening and undoing in your belly as it wasn’t nearly enough, never enough, more, more, more-

“Fuck--- that’s it, honey, keep going-” he groaned, hand stroking your back slick with sweat, his other hand gripping your ass cheek to guide your movements just the tinniest bit to your mutual pleasure.

And you listened, chasing an unreachable peak, grasping at Andy’s neck, moving closer to his still maddeningly clothed torso, bouncing up and down, grinding your pelvis against his and it was not enough, not with your hands so firmly planted on his shoulders when your thighs alone quivered with exertion, a rare catch of his shirt against your clit nearly making you see stars and pushing them away from your reach all the same, fingers fisting his shirt in breathy outrage.

“Andy, please-“

“I’ve got you, honey.”

Next thing you knew your head was spinning, your body achingly cold as you were tossed on the bed on your back, Andy’s touch gone; and then he was hovering above you, his warm body completely bare at last, stretching over yours as he sheeted himself in your heat in one single thrust, stretching you to your limit again and feeling like heaven and hell combined.

His mouth captured your needy whimper when he once again remained all too still, one of your hands, having started to explore the god-like body of his, grasped at the wrist and pinned next to your head in an exhilarating display of control, leaving an ounce of it for you too as you jerked your hips against his, over and over, unable and not wanting to stop for even a moment, because you could feel it at your fingertips, the taste of pleasure unparalleled awaiting you when you’d come around his cock and felt him spill inside you.

The thought alone had you writhe under the soothing and yet frustrating weight of Andy’s body, his kiss tinged with amusement before he released your lips, setting them free to chant his name.

“Patience, little bird. I told you I’ve got you.”

And by gods, he did. He did, pinning you to the mattress and driving into your tight channel over and over at almost punishing pace, his hand sneaking between your bodies to swipe up the juices smeared all over your and his thighs and toy with your swollen bundle of nerves, blinding pleasure lighting you alive.

“Yes-“

“You feel like fucking heaven, honey. Will never have enough--- come for me. Give it to me, show me you’re mine-“

Falling apart felt like scorching heat consuming your body, burning every single cell in its wake, a shuddering breath of Andy’s name like a prayer rising from the ashes back to life, his spent filling you to the brim just as you were being reborn.

And so was your need.

You had never felt anything like it, the crushed seeds of logic in your mindless haze whispering of how this shouldn’t be possible, how you should be beyond sated but with every taste, with every peak, each more powerful than the other, your thirst was not quenched but rekindled, your limp body craving more, more, more; more of this, more of Andy, more of anything and you would die unless you’d get it.

You could barely focus your gaze on Andy’s face hovering above yours, a bliss having flushed his cheeks pink and his eyes with tantalizing glimmer, his fingers tender as he pushed your damp hair from your face.

“Please…” you rasped, not recognizing your voice anymore, blood rushing past your ears wildly. “More.”

His smile was soft, a gentle press of his lips to your forehead and the slightest rock of his hips against yours pulling a desperate keen from your parched lips.

“Do you want to be truly mine, little bird?” he asked, his voice grave and raspy as his breath fanned over your face.

“Yes!”

“Truly? Bound to me?” he continued, the words not carrying any meaning, his voice, gods, his voice, like a caress over your inner thigh, like a touch of bliss somewhere deep within you, in your very soul, a promise of endless pleasure. “You’ll be mine, mine to love and keep and protect… and I’ll be yours…”

Anything. Anything, just more, more-

“Yes- Andy, please.”

A peck to your lips, then another to your cheek and one to the corner of your mouth; each sparking a flame licking at your womb, causing your muscles to spasm, your hands, now free of his hold, grasping at him, nails dragging down his back, urging him to move inside you, your hips buckling pathetically as all your energy had been burned out while your need pulsed with life within you all the more.

Please, just-

“Bless you, little bird, I waited for you so long and did not even know… tell me you want me.”

“I want you-“ you sobbed, vainly pulling yourself up to be flush against his body.

“Need me-“

“Need you. Only you- please.”

“As you wish, little bird.”

All of sudden, a flash of ice-cold clarity cut through your haze, an agonizing stutter of your heart in your ribcage.

The low lights of the bedroom reflected on the blade which seemed to materialize in Andy’s hand out of thin air, a gleam of determination in your lover’s eye.

Wincing helplessly under his heavy weight, you squeezed your eyes shut, your life – a good life, not bad at all –flashed before your eyes, a muffled cry of confused want and utter terror escaping your lips as you tried to make yourself as small as possible.

You could feel him shift above you, inside you, the smallest motions sending almost nauseating desire through your body still, tears of overwhelm gathering in your eyes and spilling over as your heart fought for every last beat you’d be given in this life.

You were going to die.

It was the most absurd thought flying through your head, a painful chuckle almost tearing through your lips; you were about to die, mad with arousal for you own murderer and should anyone ever learn, you were going to turn into inspiration for a cautionary tale for the very books you had been reading since you were a child. Or perhaps those on serial killers.

You didn’t want to die!

“N-no, please, please, Andy-“

It was pathetic. Voice hoarse from having pleaded him to fuck you, for more and more and more; it was almost a foreign voice and yet undeniably yours, somehow still laced with devastating desire not to live, but to be ruined by his cock over and over, still thrumming deep within you.

A low grunt and a hiss; droplets of thick warm liquid landing on your forearm, coppery smell tickling your nostrils.

You couldn’t help it; you always had been morbidly curios, hadn’t you?

With a shuddering inhale, you cautiously blinked your eyes open, heart once more skipping a painful beat, your hand twitching to cover your mouth.

Features twisted in mere discomfort, Andy glanced from his right palm – from the crude deep cut on his own palm – to your face, grimacing as if only now his pain registered, eyes wide with something other than lust and satisfaction for once.

Compassion?

“Don’t worry, little bird. I’ll be gentle and I promise it will hurt for but a second,” he rasped, your body turning rigid with horror. “Stay still for me, love.”

And you did.

Mutely, with but shaky breaths on your part and his, his grasp on your left wrist was shockingly tender as he laid your hand on the sheets, staining your skin with crimson, his blood seeping into the fabric below. His gaze held yours just as gently, something apologetic and warm in the thin ring of blue around his blown pupils.

You inhaled sharply at the sting of pain, a whimper of Andy’s name pushing past your trembling lips and then it was gone. From the corner of your eye, you could see the blade, having appeared so suddenly, disappear just as fast.

Andy’s thumb stroked the heel of your palm, his lips curling softly in a smile, the hand which had held the blade moving to cradle your cheek.

“Are you ready, little bird?”

As the fear slowly dissipated, you left the forgotten hunger for his body creep in slowly, blooming from your core through your belly, your chest, through your limbs all the way to your fingertips and toes, warming every single muscle, every nerve ending, tingling in your lips, growing and growing with every rapid beat of your heart, a shudder rushing up your spine at the gentle onslaught of want.

A single beat of your heart, two, three, four- and then it slammed into you with force of a star being born in midst of chaos, back arching, muscles straining with instinct to continue chasing the carnal pleasure, hips thrusting up as you felt Andy stiffen inside you again with a breathy chuckle.

“Yeah, you’re ready, love,” he hummed, lips slanting over yours, stealing your breath, every minute roll of his hips sending a shock of ecstasy through your system bordering on pain he drank straight from your mouth.

His hold crept from your wrist to your hand, fingers interlacing, palm sticky with blood pressing against your own wound.

You wailed.

The guttural sound rippled through you just as you hit another peak, Andy’s thrusts stuttering with a curse on his lips as your walls gripped him in a vice, your whole body spasming with paralyzing waves of euphoria, tears springing from your eyes.

Your body floated. You’d swear, had you had any control over your lips, that your soul ascended to another plane of existence. Nothing held you chained to earth anymore. You felt free and weightless and full of light, all-consuming but so so warm and soothing you felt a sob tearing from your chest, a distant sensation of your lover – your lover, your love, your everything – spilling inside you, his lips pressed to your throat, his weight on you, his gentle hold on your hand the only things grounding you and wrapping you in an overwhelming feeling of safety.

Your name, softly spoken; whispers of little bird, tender pets to your hair.

Growing aware of your body trembling in aftershocks, whatever unbearable pressure you distantly remembered crushing you finally released you from its clutches. You opened your heavy eyelids, a blurry image of a stunningly handsome man, Andy, all you could see; and you were at peace with that.

He still held your hand firmly in his, leaning over you, worried gaze roaming your features as you felt your chest heaving with slow ragged breaths.

“Andy…”

“I know, little bird… it was almost too much, wasn’t it,” he whispered, your heavy eyelids slipping shut again, a tender kiss landing on them.

“Mmm… ‘most,” you echoed, exhaustion settling in every fibre of your being now that feeling of deep contentment washed over your body, cleansing you of the insatiable hunger.

“That’s my pretty little bird.”

A brief peck to your forehead was the only warning you got before Andy’s warmth slowly lifted from you, oh so carefully sliding out of you, a vague sensation of your nose scrunching in discontent reaching your brain. He squeezed you fingers too, you thought, but his voice sounded as if from miles away.

“I’ll be right back, honey.”

His retreating steps were the last sound you heard before sleep took you into its merciful arms at last.

You didn’t feel the careful touch of a warm cloth washing away the proves of intense love-making from your most intimate flesh, nor the kiss to your hipbone. You didn’t feel another cloth wiping away the blood from your hand, couldn’t see Andy’s pained frown at the shallow cut on your palm, nor you could hear the hoarse whisper as he traced his fingertips over your wound, erasing it without trace, a weak smile passing his lips.

No one but him could see him even as he felt thousands of judging eyes on him when he walked back to the bathroom, washing the blood off of his hands and tearing away a strip of clean cloth to wrap around his own palm, tightening it more than necessary with every tug, the throbbing pain only justified; a fraction of punishment that should be inflicted on him, a lump growing in his throat as he dreaded and couldn’t wait to walk back and lay on his bed, sharing it with someone after endless years of solitude.

Leaning his hands on the sink with a shaky exhale, he hung his head low even as something so light and beautiful thundered in his ribcage, fingers flexing, the fresh wave of pain pushing him to look up. The face starring at him from the mirror was one of a selfish monster; a selfish monster craving love just like any other being with hot blood pulsing through its veins.

He just wanted to love and be loved. Was that really so wrong of him?

It didn’t matter anymore; he’d made his choice and made yours as well.

Stepping back into the bedroom, he found you sound asleep, somehow having turned to your side, facing the door as if you eagerly awaited his return and the dreams took you too early. The frown on Andy’s face softened, something sweet humming in his heart, the lump in his throat releasing just a bit at how peaceful you appeared.

Circling the bed, he stretched alongside your body, propping on his elbow to feat his eyes on you.

You glowed with wild beauty, hair a soft tangled mess around your head, skin still flushed, kiss-swollen lips parted, bare skin of your tempting body enticing him to touch.

My little bird.

I’ll keep you safe.

I’ll keep you warm.

You deserve everything and I will give it to you.

You are mine to love and cherish and protect.

With a sigh releasing the immense pressure in his ribcage, he brushed his lips over his fingertips before bringing his forefinger to the side of your neck. Drawing tender lines, his touch trailed to your nape, down your neck, over your shoulder blade and shoulder, a swirl of ink left in its wake reaching gently over your collarbone almost to your breastbone. Curls as delicate as your soul, thin petals of wild flowers and trees; and surrounded by the beauty of nature, a little swallow.

Content with his handwork, pressing a soft kiss to your nape, Andy laid himself behind you, arm wrapping around your waist to pull you flush to his chest, your soft warm body moulding into his perfectly as if it was always meant to be.

He draped covers over you both to keep you warm as he had promised.

Slowly pulled into consciousness by fingers carding through your hair as gently as if threading through dreams, you felt your lips curl in a brief smile, the sensation of a warm firm body wrapped about you protectively rousing you from your sleep with finality.

Just as slowly, the events of yesterday came back to your memory like an echo, echo of freezing-cold water, all-consuming need and overwhelming relief found in Andy’s arms, in Andy’s bed.

That was where you were, feeling just as relieved; just as light even as sleep still weighted your body, delaying your movements and making them sloppy, your hand landing ungracefully on Andy’s chest, his quiet chuckle causing you to purse your lips and finally will your eyes to open.

The first sunrays were peeking through the bedroom window, casting light to the warm space, illuminating Andy’s form from behind and giving his tousled hair almost supernatural glow; and yet it was nothing compared to the soft glow in his eyes as he watched his fingers toy with your hair, as his gaze met yours, dreamy, with a tinge of concern.

“Good morning,” he husked, voice warm and gentle like a cup of coffee on a cold winter afternoon.

“Gd mornin’,’” you muttered in response, causing a brief smile pass his lips, before his brows drew together, his dark blues roaming all over your face, his fingers trailing down your cheek.

It was a little unnerving, the attention, your awareness of just how much of a mess your appearance had to be after a long wild night spent tangled in the sheets insistent in your mind; and the fact you were still completely naked save for the duvet Andy must have covered you with did not help your case.

He did not seem to mind.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like a changed woman,” you replied without as much as a thought, only to be surprised how true the words were.

You did feel different; transformed, for the lack of a better word. A huge weight you hadn’t been aware you had been carrying seemed lifted, aches and worries in your heart and mind soothed, the only ache remaining being a pleasant reminder of last night. One brief flash of fear; a memory of a blade and blood, yours and Andy’s – but where you could see a cloth wrapped unceremoniously around his hand, you realized you could flex both of your hands without as much as discomfort.

Before you could ask – why your hand carried no mark while Andy’s carried a potentially still bleeding mark of something you did not understand and yet seemed to understand better than yourself – he spoke, hesitance lacing his voice.

“Well… you are. You are mine,” he whispered.

The thought sent a surge of warmth through your chest, a smile unwittingly spreading on your lips. Feasting your eyes on the man who had indeed made you yours quite thoroughly, his unfairly handsome features made you almost oblivious to how quiet and shy he sounded; and how fast his heart thundered under your palm.

“You’re bound to me now, little bird, as I am to you. Forever.”

Forever mine.

Forever yours.

You blinked, unsure what he meant and yet; the sincerity and gravity of his words left no doubt that he was sharing a profound truth. A quiet, powerful presence of an ancient entity not to fear but certainly respect hummed in the depths of your ribcage.

In your silence, Andy moved his hand so the pads of his fingers now lad tenderly over your collarbone, instinctively drawing your gaze, air catching in your throat in awe.

Dark indigo-like ink adorned your skin, stretching from the curve of your shoulder as far as you could see over your collarbone and cleavage, a breathtaking piece or art; a love letter to nature etched onto your body in simple precise lines without shading. You heart raced in your chest as you reached out cautiously, fearing the tattoo you did not remember getting might disappear.

It did not; but images filled your mind, images of your bare body standing in Andy’s bathroom, your back to the mirror, glancing over your shoulder and marvelling at the intricate pattern, delicate leaves and swirls as if protecting a small bird; a swallow.

The astonishment stayed within you as your gaze refocused on the inked skin of your chest, your mind a whirlwind of confusion. You would say with certainty you had never stood in the bathroom like that nor admired the tattoo; and yet, you were absolutely sure, somehow, that this was what your back now looked like, this was what you would see if you walked to the mirror and made the image true.

Your stomach fluttered, a tingle of caution; and still, no matter how much you tried to make sense of why, you were not scared. Curious, rather; fascinated even.

Glancing up at Andy, you found him watching you closely, his eyes brimming with careful hope and expectation of a blow to his face at once.

“How?” you breathed out, his unhappy grimace deepening.

The sight twisted your heart.

You were lost; and yet it seemed he was the one needing guidance and support and all you yearned for was to give him exactly that.

As you placed your hand on his cheek, already missing the sensation of his heartbeat, his eyes fluttered shut, a shaky inhale rattling his ribcage. He nuzzled into your touch, a soft scratch of his beard against your palm. His hand slid to your waist, fingers flexing briefly as he met your gaze, his eyes a storm of emotion.

“A bonding like that… requires three elements of a body; saliva, seed and blood. Once exchanged, along with your consent and with the drop of potion in your tea… we belong together now, little bird. And… there’s no force on the earth that could tear us apart.”

Your pulse skyrocketed at the gravity of his words.

It sounded terrifying; it sounded definitive.

It sounded wicked.

And it sounded right.

It should scare you, a low voice whispered in the back of your mind, but it was drowned in the melody of your heart finally finding peace.

Forever. No force on Earth that could tear us apart.

The echo of the voice having been with you ever since you fell through the ice and nearly drowned washed over you sweetly; if felt like coming back to a safe harbour after years and years spent on a raging sea.

You didn’t understand technicalities; you did not understand at all. But you understood how the fact this was right was everything that mattered.

That and the fact Andy was watching you now, perhaps even more overwhelmed than you, awaiting your reaction to the confession because that was what this was. A confession. No matter what his words would have said, the weight of his transgression was written in his cerulean eyes.

And your heart ached and called for his.

Sliding your hand to his nape, you shifted closer, slow enough to see his eyes widen and lit up with hope before you brushed your lips over his, a pained sound in the back of his throat almost making you stop; until his fingers flexed in the flesh of your waist and gripped, pulling you flush to his chest, free hand sliding under your cheek to angle your head and deepen the kiss, your lips parting in invitation and a plea.

Like a spark of life to your body; like a drop of the most precious of wines on your tongue. Exhilarating. Addicting.

“Oh little bird…”

The soft cautious voice turned warmer, lighter and heavier with desire all the same as both his and your hands began to roam, every touch like sunbeams shining from within your bones, your body arching against him in instinctive search for bliss.

“What if they come looking for me?”

Andy smiled as you blurted the question s, licking into your mouth instead of an answer and making you keen, the hold on your hips encouraging you to meet the roll of his own.

“They’ll never find you, love. This house does not exist in the earthly realm, not for most of the year… don’t worry, little bird.”

That piece of information should worry you, yet you could not bring yourself to care enough; instead, the tingle in the back of your mind whispered of earthly plane and other realms, of forces beyond comprehension, tales remembered from childhood of unhuman entities coaxing people into their grasp with a promise of what their heart craved.

Feeling the thunderous heartbeat under your palm, the warmth and firmness of Andy’s body, there was no denying how wonderfully alive and human he was; and yet, words of potions and bonds and forevers were telling a different tale.

“What are you, Andy?”

Another smile, mischievous as his touch trailed down your chest over your belly, along your hipbone, grasping the back of your thigh to lift it so he could slot one of his muscular legs between yours, the delicious friction against your rapidly dampening core causing your thoughts to scatter.

“Does it matter?” he whispered to your ear, teeth nibbling under your earlobe, drawing a whimper from your lips.

No. No, it did not. The one thing he was was devious, his lips chaining one kiss after another along your throat, your head thrown back as your nails dug into his back.

“I’ve had many different names, little bird. The only one that will ever matter to me is the one falling from your lips as shatter for me again.”

The image was almost palpable, Andy’s soft hair in your fingers as he lifted you towards the stars and yet; another question, much more urgent, cold fingers of doubt creeping along your spine, threatened to put the flames of bliss igniting in your body out at once.

Forever was a long, long time, no matter how much of a hyperbole Andy could have used.

And in your experience, men did not love for even half of it or less and chose their forever with much more care than he had.

“Why me?”

Andy’s body turned rigid for a moment, safe for his head snapping up to search your gaze, the wheels in his head turning as he tried to decipher your tone.

You willed yourself to hold his serious gaze even as your heart raced, worried you had overstepped; worried you might get what you bargained for. Heartbreak.

Whatever Andy found in your gaze – be it pride or desperation – it drew a sigh from his lips, his touch retreating from your intimate flesh in favour of grasping your hand and linking his fingers with yours.

“The moment you fell into water… I knew you were mine and always had been,” he said slowly.

Your breath hitched, threading uncertain waters again, in more ways than one.

The moment you fell into water… he knew. Whatever that meant. The moment you fell-

The moment you heard him for the first time. The voice, even as it had been veiled with mystery at first, the voice you later recognized as his own pleading for you to fight. The very moment…

“I… I think I heard your voice,” you whispered, certain you’d find laughter in his eyes, because what you were saying was absurd, a figment of imagination of an extremely stressed mind, but there was no trace of it. Not at all.

Warmth, yes. Humour? Not in the slightest.

“Yes, that’s possible.”

“But… how? Why?”

Sighing again with a gentle squeeze to your fingers, he let his other hand wander, soft pads of his fingers brushing over your skin, following the lines of your tattoo with his touch and sight alike, speaking lowly, almost absently.

“Time is an illusion, little bird. An elaborate one, but only an illusion. On Christmas Day, the veil surrounding it is the thinnest – that is why people who come to the blessed lake on Christmas Day and cut though the ice do glimpse their future. Those who fall in… they literally soak their body in the ability.”

“Ability…?” you echoed weakly, your breaths coming out shorter as intangible weight settled in your chest. “Ability to… glimpse into the future? No, that’s not--- not-”

Flashes. Images of you looking over your shoulder, a precise picture of a tattoo you had yet to see, Andy kneeling between your legs as you laid sprawled in the armchair, his body draped over yours, hand pinned next to your head, his bandaged hand on your hip as his lips devoured you on this very bed-

“Little bird?”

You opened your mouth, no sound coming out, your head spinning as the images replayed in your head, over and over, hazy and yet sharp, details you could have not imagined, not truly. “I-- yesterday, I saw these… flashes, I was sure they were-”

You gulped, cheek flushing with heat at the admission, your gaze fixed on Andy’s chest, unable to meet his eye until his fingers slid under your chin, tipping your head back just a bit, his gaze intrigued – and serious.

“…fantasies.”

A little smirk passed over his lips, a flicker of mischief that soon gave way to something softer and graver. “But they weren’t, were they?”

You shook your head, even as the glaring truth was only now dawning to you.

“I saw this too. I think? Maybe. Your injured hand… and I think I saw-- I have a swallow on my back, don’t I?”

His eyes widened, a speckle of pride in his gaze as he slowly nodded.

“Yes. I’m sorry, little bird, I know it’s difficult. From what I know it is hard to make sense of these images. Those who bath in the lake at the sacred time…” he trailed off, a frown twisting his gentle expression, another sigh leaving his lips. “If they survive, they are bound to fall into madness, the strain on their mind too great.”

Your heart stopped.

It must have, because the sudden stab of ice-cold fear tore straight through it, blood crystalizing in your veins.

You couldn’t breathe. A few words and the icy waters of the lake surrounded you all over again, filling your lungs with thousands of needles, the glassy shards all around you pulling you under, pulling you down, down, down-

“But--- but does that-“

And just as fast, a warm firm grip pulled you back up, a protective cage of hands cradling your face, gentle and steady, your vision reducing to pair of fiery blue eyes.

“No. No, because you are mine. We are far from the earthly realm and you are bound to me the most potent way there is. And if, if that’s not enough, I will find a way to protect you even if it’s the last thing I ever do.”

I’ll keep you safe.

I’ll keep you.

I’d never hurt you.

You’ll be mine, mine to love and keep and protect and I’ll be yours.

Your heart was soared, tears gathering in your eyes at the warmth radiating from Andy’s palms alone. There was no space for doubt left whatsoever. His blazing determination would scorch the entirety of the earthly realm he had spoken of and leave nothing but ashes if it meant keeping you safe.

And that, that was exactly what made no sense; because you had not encountered a single human being in your whole damn life that would feel a fraction of the affection Andy seemed to harbour for you in less than a day. Nothing was as real as his hands on you, as the sweet ache in your body from yesterday, and yet this, this could not be real.

“Why? Why of all people, why would you choose-”

“I told you,” Andy said, just as passionately, pleading for you to understand. “You fell and I knew better than anything that you were mine and always had been.”

You didn’t understand. But perhaps you did. Or you would.

Perhaps that was what he meant when he said time was an illusion; right now, you did not know, but you would and that was all that mattered, because you might as well know already.

Your head spun, pressure building behind your eyes and yet you could not tear your gaze away from the soft storm in Andy’s eyes.

Let me, honey.

Let me and I’ll teach you all you need to know.

“So what… it was fate?” you muttered, the words, yet again, absurd to your own ears.

Andy smirked, the expression so out of place and so perfectly fitting to his handsome face your stomach made a little somersault. Releasing you from his grip, he simply continued to cradle your cheek as his other hand began to toy with your hair, his smile softening as you felt yourself relax at the tender yet playful action.

“Fate is a series of deliberate choices, little bird,” he said, letting the strand of your hair fall only to wrap another one round his finger. “I… I made my choices, some of which I am not proud of, and you made yours. You chose to come back to your hometown. Chose to escape the family gathering. Chose to walk to the lake and try your luck looking at the water surface with shy hope – because years ago, when you were still a child, you chose to read a particular book of legends.”

With every word, your heart was picking up again, hammering in your ribcage, your mind latching onto pieces of information Andy could have guessed but spoke with unshakable certainty.

But then, the look in his eye was painfully tender you shuddered at being at the receiving end, thoughts scattering again, reducing themselves to one single thought.

No one. No one had ever looked at you like that.

“Much like you chose to help out a little bird back to its nest when only a child yourself. Chose to release a spirit of a baby swallow mere days after, perhaps even unwittingly calling luck upon yourself that would once find its way to you.”

“How- how do you-”

“I told you. I knew when you fell. Because I got to glimpse beyond the veils of time too,” he explained gently, letting silence stretch, allowing you to process the information that was nothing short of absolutely overwhelming. Mind-blowing.

He had seen; he had seen parts of your life no one even knew about, moments you barely remembered. He knew about a small, meaningless act of kindness years and years ago, he knew-

The sudden realization stuck you like a lightning, a choked sound born in the back of your throat, a breathy whisper.

“Little bird…”

“Yes,” Andy confirmed, just as quiet, gaze glimmering with affection as his fingers moved from caressing your hair to your shoulder, reaching behind you, blindly following lines of a tattoo you knew were there and now knew why. A small swallow amongst the leaves and swirls. “And that’s your why. All these images of your life, past, presence, even future, flashing before my eyes. They showed me all of you. Who you were, how good, how sweet, an innocent soul with faith in forces of nature and beyond… you were perfect. You are perfect, little bird. And I couldn’t let you-- not when I knew what might happen if I--- I knew you were to be mine and I wanted to be yours. I steered you, just a little and I knew it was wrong of me to meddle with your life and I knew I should have let you go… but even when I did, your steps lead to me still and then you were here, and I-”

Your fingers silenced his laments, confession and declaration all at once, a simple touch to his lips working like a charm, his eyes falling shut.

Your heart was beating so vigorously you were sure it would beat its way out of your chest.

There was so much to process, so much to feel, so much to understand and thread through; but at last, you understood two things.

One: this truly was meant to be, be it fate or series of choice or divine intervention.

Two: he needed to stop.

“You saved me.”

Andy shook his head, taking your hand into his and holding it to his chest, lips barely moving as he whispered.

“No and it’s not that simple. My voice and enchantment might have helped, but you saved yourself. And since the moment you did, since you came in, I’ve done things, wicked things to have you-“

You recalled the scorching need for him, the bath, the tea, his touch eliciting visions, little puzzle pieces falling into place, even as the image remained all too incomplete; the puzzle of him, a simple man with something extraordinary throbbing in his soul, a lonely man craving love beyond what you could possibly imagine, tortured way beyond what he had brought upon you yesterday and had soothed all the same and you couldn’t.

You couldn’t but forgive whichever transgressions he had committed if he was beating himself over them and his original intentions were threaded by something soft and pure.

It was your turn to cradle his cheek and wordlessly ask him to look at you and trust you.

Obeying, Andy hung onto your lips, two two pools of cerulean sadness awaiting judgement and asking forgiveness all the same, almost absurdly so, because you had a feeling that should he want to, he could have made you mad for him all over again, a drop of a potion, a flick of a hand, and you’d have no choice but to succumb to him.

But he didn’t.

It only solidified your decision.

“No, Andy. You saved me… your very own little bird,” you added with a smile tugging at your lips. “And maybe calling a little luck upon yourself in the process, I suppose. I—whatever you have done… it only sped up what I would have felt for you either way. And… if I was meant to be yours, if I am yours… then you were meant to be mine.”

A shaky inhale. You had never imagined a man of his built would spoke in such small vulnerable voice, but he did. A single word, tinged with careful hope:

“Yeah?”

“Oh Andy…”

Actions speaking louder than words, you pulled him for a kiss, soft, slow and deep, the softened flame of your desire flaring up again, this time with no doubts or unspoken questions.

His lips tore away from yours with an urgent plea.

“Show me, love.”

“Was trying to,“ you muttered, confused and a little hurt, only for Andy to shake his head and bring your hand to his lips, a tender kiss to your fingertips sending a tingle of electricity rushing through your body all the way to your toes. “Andy, what-”

“Think of us… of a pattern, a mark… much like your tattoo. If I am yours… where would I carry your mark?” he whispered, the fervour in his voice making your heart stutter in your chest.

Oh Andy.

You did not need to think for long; there was only one choice, truly.

As he squeezed your hand, enticing you to touch him as if that was enough to make the pattern appear, his gaze eagerly followed your movements as you carefully brushed over his sternum.

With a breathless chuckle on your lips, you watched the ink of a familiar colour – the colour of your eyes, you realized, only slightly darker, much like your own tattoo mirrored a darker shade of Andy’s eyes – draw a line of the pattern on your mind, perfectly matching your own. Over his collarbone; over the mass of his shoulder; over his shoulder blade.

As you retreated your hand, content with your handiwork, you caught Andy’s soft, so achingly soft gaze, zeroed on your awed smile.

Whatever he was – whatever he was beyond yours – he carried something good and beautiful in his very core.

“Thank you, love.”

A gentle kiss to your fingertips, another little jolt of energy; as he placed your palm over his rapidly beating heart, no ink spilled anymore. Before you could marvel at that, he captured your lips with his, a brief kiss before he sighed with emotion so profound you felt your eyes prickling with tears again.

“I think you saved me, little bird. And I will spend forever by repaying you.”

You didn’t know how long forever was. You didn’t know what awaited you, even as you soon might get a glimpse of it, but one thing you knew for sure.

“There’s no rush, love… we have all the time in the world.”

And in the earthly realm, just as Andy said, as soon as the clock struck midnight on a Christmas Day, the house disappeared from view; along with the woman, once a superstitious kid, carrying her to a happier realm she may never, ever leave.

And with the house was long gone, invisible and untouchable to mere human senses, the only trace of her left was but small droplets of blood on the white bark of a birch tree; giving birth to unearthly crimson blossoms as soon as the first spring sunrays caressed it with its warmth, the ices of the lake melting.

Complete masterlist

Andy Barber and misc masterlist

Phew... You did it! You finished reading!

If you find some time and energy, please, let me know if you enjoyed 🥺 Honest. This is one of my rare soft dark babies and I'm nervous as hell posting this and I obviously spent a lot of time on this one, so... hoe with me? 🥹

Thank you for reading either way 💕

BTW, the book referenced in the story is very much real and used to be one of my favourites as a teen. It’s Kytice by K.J.Erben (translated as A Bouquet of Czech Folktales, I cannot tell if it's a good translation as I haven't got my hands on it; or biligual version simply called Kytice).

P.S. everything is a oneshot if you post it in one go 😌🤭

#r #reactions #walking back into m own myth #so so grateful #no seriously SO GRATEFUL #BE STILL MY FOOLISH HEART

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