#also look at Rain and their judgmental eyebrow too!

[retrievablememories]

love thy neighbor | kun (m)

title: love thy neighbor pairing: kun x black reader genre: fluff, smut, neighbors to lovers request: “Hello again Rain! I hope you're doing well and I'm happy to see you're open for requests again. Your writing in general is a treat to look forward to. An idea for a fic I'd like to suggest is wayv kun/black oc where they're neighbors that secretly pine for another and do feel free get very nsfw lmao. TY!” word count: 5.7k warnings: alcohol use, protected sex, dirty talk, dry humping, riding a/n: i used a prompt from this list of ideas to help me create this fic.

i’m sorry, this fic could’ve theoretically been finished long ago but took me 3893 years because kun intimidates me (and i don’t know why) and that makes it hard to write for him l m f a o chile anyway...

--

Your neighbor might actually kill you one day—but only in the figurative sense.

Kun is too beautiful and kind for your sanity; he’s like one of those men out of a romantic novel who simply should not exist. In other words, the ideal guy. One who helps all the little old ladies in the building take their groceries up to their apartments, one who feeds all the stray cats that hang around the complex, one who helps new tenants move their things in without even being asked.

Your roommate Charlotte would probably be totally smitten over him just like you if she did not already have her own happy relationship with her girlfriend. But since she does, she has decided to spend her time instead teasing you about your crush on him and trying to persuade you into getting tangled up in a matchmaking mess.

“I’m sure he already has a girlfriend, I don’t know, trying to shoot my shot seems ridiculous,” you say to her, worrying the edge of your blanket in your hands. You toss and turn on the couch, flipping onto your stomach and sighing before shuffling onto your back again. “People like that can never stay single for long. Right? They get snapped up quick.”

“You’d know if you simply asked,” Charlotte points out. “Staring holes into his head won’t help you find out more about him.”

“I guess you’re right,” you say, your fingers stumbling over the blanket as it momentarily slips from your hands. Still, the idea of asking him if he’s dating anyone, whether discreetly or more openly, makes you nervous. You’ve talked to Kun several times before, even hung out with him at those friendly get-togethers your apartment building always holds to get the residents mingling, but you’re still anxious around him. It makes you feel silly, like you’re back in high school; but you aren’t quite sure what to do with those emotions or how to form them into something coherent. “Easy to say all that when you already have the person you want, though.”

“Oh, girl. Love is not easy, but that’s why you have to fucking work for it. AKA, go for what—or who—the hell you want and stop pining over him like some lost Juliet on our couch. It’s better than watching you flop around like a dying fish.”

You stand up from the couch abruptly, leaving your blanket to the side and glaring at her. “You don’t get it, ugh.”

“I get it! But you refuse to let me help—”

“Yes, because if I did, you’d say something completely ridiculous and tell him I’m madly in love with him or something.” You head to the bathroom to check yourself in the mirror.

Charlotte throws her hands up in surrender. “Hey, maybe. But that wouldn’t be a lie.”

“Really? I don’t think—”

“I think so. The way you talk about this guy, it’s definitely sounding a little like love to me.”

Once you’re satisfied, you come back in the main room and grab your keys, wanting to end this conversation before Charlotte sets a world record for how many times she can make you feel embarrassed. “Whatever you say. I’m gonna go to the corner store, so...speak now if you need something or forever hold your peace.”

“You can’t run from it,” Charlotte sing-songs, going back to reading her magazine. “And no, I don’t need anything.”

Once you get out your front door, it’s just your luck when you see Kun’s door is also open. You are not dressed for running into him, of all people; your “corner store” clothes being just a T-shirt, leggings, and slides. You freeze in place and momentarily think about unlocking your door and bolting back inside, which you realize is utterly ridiculous. By then, it’s too late; he’s already coming out his door and closing it behind him. 

He perks up when he sees you outside, smiling at you with those deep dimples that make your insides melt. “Hey Y/N, good to see you.”

“Kun! Uh—great to see you too.”

“Are you going out somewhere?” he asks. Inwardly, he feels a bit silly for asking because you clearly are, keys in hand and everything.

“Yeah, just to the store to get a few things.” You wave your hand, and you almost have the urge to lean on your doorframe to appear more calm and collected than you are. Which could potentially end up looking sillier than you intended. “How about you?”

“Going to see a friend,” he answers, and he brushes his hand through his hair in a way that’s completely casual but somehow modelesque at the same time. This is unbelievable, you think to yourself. “We haven’t met up in a while, so…”

“Oh yeah, it’s always nice to go out with old friends,” you say, smiling at the thought of it. Kun nods his agreement, and then has an abrupt, wild idea to ask if you’d like to go out somewhere sometime. Too busy warring with himself over whether he should take the dive, he doesn’t notice you heading towards the stairs already. “I hope you two have a good time!”

“Oh—thanks. Hope you enjoy your trip.” He chuckles, following you down the steps to get to his car. Well, that moment has passed. Sure, he could probably still ask you now if he was bold enough about it, but it feels too awkward to randomly ask someone out in the middle of a stairwell.

You wave bye to him once you both get in the parking lot. He watches you walk to your car with a wistful smile on his face. He wants to say more to you, but the timing isn’t right and it’s best not to hold you up right now. Plus, Hendery’s probably already waiting for him.

It would’ve provided you with a lot of relief if you knew Kun was facing a similar dilemma to you. He’d never had much problem talking to women he liked in the past, but something about you made him feel clumsy and hesitant. But just like with your inability to move forward, there’s no way for you to know his feelings without him saying anything about it—which he has been hesitating over for the longest. 

Maybe he was also still cowering from the embarrassment of the time he’d tried to show you a magic trick that didn’t quite work out, but it was a convenient excuse. At least for him, anyway.

One day he’d get the courage to tell you how he felt, but he didn’t think today was that day.

–

Some strong shots and a few hours at the club was exactly what you needed to unravel your nerves after a long week. You and a few others from your work had decided to go out that Saturday night as a group effort to unwind from dealing with your overbearing boss. “Just a couple shots” eventually turned into more than that, though, but you weren’t complaining. As long as it gave you the opportunity to discard all your issues for a while, you didn’t mind losing yourself a little.

However, your night of fun quickly dissolves into frustration when you realize you’ve lost your keys and have no way to get back into your apartment. You’re not even sure where they might’ve disappeared—in the club, or in the rideshare back to your apartment?

Charlotte is out of the city for the week visiting her long-distance girlfriend, so there’s no way you’re getting back in your apartment tonight. The main office won’t be open at this hour, either; it’s the weekend, and nobody will be there regardless until Monday. And you’re definitely not drunk enough or desperate enough to try to bust the door down.

Though it pains you to do so, you knock on Kun’s door, your head throbbing and dizzy. You feel bad about this. He won’t even be awake at this hour and might not answer, but you don’t know what other options you have. You aren’t familiar enough with your other neighbors to ask this of them. Especially not the old lady living on the other side of you who has a perpetually judgmental aura towards everyone in the apartment building. The only person she seems marginally approving of is none other than the man himself—Qian Kun.

It takes a good minute or two, but you hear the latch unlock, and Kun is suddenly standing in front of you, a look of concern on his sleepy face. He is adorable like this, in his pajamas and his hair mussed and his eyes foggy with sleep. He’s so cute it makes you want to cry—and so you do. 

But your tears are mostly because you’re very tipsy and tired and currently locked out of your very comfortable apartment.

This awakens Kun immediately. “Y/N? What’s wrong?” He gently pulls you into his apartment, his tone quiet but panicked as you put your face in your hands and cry. You just shake your head for a few moments, crying too much to say anything to him. When you don’t reply, he doesn't try to press you for answers; he just puts his arms around you, a bit carefully as if you’re made of some easily breakable material, and lets you wet his T-shirt with your tears.

Finally, when you’ve collected yourself some, you abruptly feel foolish for crying over something like this. He probably thinks someone’s died, and you’ve gotten him all worked up for practically nothing. “I-I’m locked out,” you sigh heavily, and he has enough politeness not to outwardly react to your alcohol breath with your close proximity. “And my roommate is gone…forever.”

His eyebrows lift. “Forever?”

“The whole week, Kun...but it feels like...f-forever.”

“Ah...I see. Is that why you were crying?”

You put your head back in your hands. “Just kill me.”

“Don’t feel bad about it,” Kun says, and there is a tiny lift to his mouth like he wants to smile at your dramatics. “It’s fine. You can stay here tonight.”

“Kun, thank you.” You’re still loosely embracing each other, and you squeeze your arms more tightly around him. Maybe it’s just a reason to rest your head on his chest again and hear his heart beating strong against your cheek, but you wouldn’t admit that. Wait, why is his heart beating so fast? “Thank youuu, I love you so much, this means the world to me.”

Kun’s mind catches on the words I love you so much, and he knows you’re just drunk and need to sleep it off and aren’t really thinking about what you’re saying, but he cannot help lingering there for a moment. He’s glad the front room is still dim from the single lamp he turned on, otherwise you might notice the flush growing on his cheeks. “I...it’s no problem. We should get you comfortable, then.”

As it turns out, get you comfortable means he lets you sleep in his bed while he takes the couch. In another context you’d protest, not wanting to kick him out of his own space, but you are simply too smashed to think about it. You’re seconds away from falling asleep where you stand now that the adrenaline of discovering you’re locked out has worn off. Kun has the idea to make you drink some ice cold water, though, which wakes you up enough to take a proper shower.

By the time you get out of the shower and are wearing his clothes—his clothes—you are feeling a little more sober. You also feel like you’re going to have another small meltdown over all this. “This” being: wearing Kun’s clothes and standing in his bedroom, which is decorated with all his interests and treasured belongings. There’s a small studio setup in one corner, which interests you, but you don’t investigate it any further.

Now you have another little problem, though; what are you gonna do about the pillows? You don’t have anything to cover your hair with, with all your scarves and bonnets in your own apartment. One night of sleeping on a cotton pillow wouldn’t kill you, but that doesn’t make it any less distasteful to think about.

Kun comes into the bedroom to check on you and sees you puzzling around, sitting on the bed and looking awkward. “What’s the matter?”

“Oh. It’s nothing really,” you rush out, unsure if you should tell him about a problem he likely won’t even understand. It must be at least 4:00 a.m. by now, meaning you both desperately need to get some sleep.

“You can tell me, I won’t bite.”

I wouldn’t mind if you did pops into your head, but you immediately try to ignore that thought and are silently grateful that you do not blush visibly.

“Uh, my hair.”

“Your hair?”

“Okay, I need to cover it at night so it won’t get all broken off or anything—sleeping on cotton does wonders for destroying moisture—but I don’t have anything here to use. I mean—it’s...not a huge deal though, I can deal with it for a night?” You’re rambling now. Kun just nods, taking in all this information like he’s listening to something very important and very interesting.

“So then, what would you do to stop that?”

“Wear a scarf, or a bonnet, or using a silk pillowcase works, too. But you probably don’t have any of that stuff, you don’t have to bother with it—”

“Well, let me see.” Kun disappears into his closet and you pause, wondering for a moment if he actually does have a bonnet or something in there. Which would probably be a little hilarious to you.

He comes back out with not a bonnet of a scarf or even a pillowcase, but one of his own shirts. It’s just the right material though, being a pretty purple silk.

“Oh—Kun.” At this point, there are several emotions all trying to come to the forefront, though you have no clue which one to settle on. “Your shirt? You really don’t have to. I could…”

“It’s just a shirt, Y/N. There are a lot more where that comes from...I don’t mind.” He chuckles.

You sigh bashfully but take the shirt from him. “Thank you, it’s really thoughtful of you.” You cover the pillow with his shirt, and it works perfectly.

“Anyway, if you need anything else, just tell me,” he says, lingering by the door.

“I will...thank you,” you say, your voice quiet as you give him a nervous smile. Only when he shuts the door and his footsteps fade away do you allow yourself to bunch the comforter in your fists and scream into it. Everything in here smells just like him, which is probably more than enough to fuel all of your Qian Kun-related daydreams for the next 8 months.

It doesn’t take long for you to drift off when you finally do lie down, and your mind is blissfully empty of anything throughout the night.

--

The next day takes a bit of settling into. You’re momentarily alarmed when you wake up faced with a strange room until you remember last night’s events and recall where you are. There is also the smell of food, good food, which is also sadly unfamiliar to you. Charlotte can’t cook to save either of your lives, so you know you’d never be waking up to the smell of a professional chef-approved breakfast if you were still in your apartment with her.

Walking out of Kun’s room, you see that he’s in the kitchen, halfway finished with cooking breakfast for the both of you. It’s more like brunch at this hour, but what does that matter.

You linger at the doorway for a moment, allowing yourself to imagine that this is what things would be like if you were dating. Getting this view everyday? Life cannot be this unfair.

Maybe not too much, though, since you are standing in his kitchen.

“Oh, good morning,” he greets you, breaking your reverie. “Did you sleep well?”

“Good morning. I slept great. Thanks again for, you know, the shirt, haha…”

He grins, and his dimples come out. “Sure thing. Go ahead and sit! Breakfast will be ready soon.”

It’s the best breakfast you’ve eaten since living with Charlotte; maybe some of the best food you’ve ever had. “I had no idea you could cook this well,” you say. “I mean. I guess I wouldn’t since I haven’t—you know, uh—eaten here before, but—it’s great.” It’s just your luck that your thoughts come out in this fumbling mini-rant, but Kun only laughs good-naturedly.

“Thank you, I’m truly glad you like it.”

You both continue eating breakfast while making light conversation. This just might be the longest conversation you’ve had with each other, and that knowledge seems surreal. You’re almost a little glad you lost your key. Almost.

“So...today is Sunday. And the leasing office still won’t be open until Monday.” Kun says this over the remnants of breakfast. He speaks in a measured tone, like he’s trying to ensure he says the right thing. Whatever that could possibly be. “And you told me your roommate won’t be back until Monday.”

To your credit, you hadn’t exactly accounted for this when you first came over to his place in your distressed state. That means another night spent in his apartment though, which becomes very obvious to you now. “Ah. Sorry, am I imposing?”

“What—no, I-I just wanted to make sure you knew you can stay here tonight, or—however long you need.”

Relief floods through you, and you briefly wonder why you even worried about it; as far as you know, he’s not the kind of person to just kick someone out. “Ohh, of course—that’s good to know. Thank you for all this!”

“You’re welcome.” You miss the smile he gives to your response as you’re busy drinking your juice, but it’s one filled with a certain affection.

--

It feels a bit awkward to just sit around in his apartment all day, with nothing to do and all your belongings still locked out of your reach in your own place, so Kun shows you the studio in the corner of his room. He’d talked about being into music before, but you’d never heard anything of his until now.

When he plays the keyboard for you, it’s to the tune of a beautiful self-composed song. You almost pinch yourself to remind yourself this isn’t a hallucination or a fever dream. A man this appealing really exists, and you’ve stayed the night in his apartment and eaten his breakfast. You give a small round of applause when he finishes.

“Wouldn’t it be cool if you became a famous singer or something? I’d come to all your concerts,” you say lightly, kicking your legs on the edge of his bed.

“All? Really, all?” He laughs.

“Yes, all. A voice and talent like that deserves all the attention.” You lean back on his bed, stretching your legs out. “But all your venues would probably be sold out. Hopefully you’d remember me from your lil’ ole apartment building. I’m sure you’d be living in a penthouse by then.”

Kun smiles bashfully at your compliments, waving his hands as if it’s too much. “Thank you. But I don’t think I could ever forget you.” His voice grows a bit softer. His expression is more genuine than you expect for a conversation that was so playful only seconds ago, and you find it hard to hold eye contact all of a sudden.

It is your turn to be bashful, and you shrug in an effort to seem natural. “Well, I’m flattered.” Despite your unaffected demeanor, you don’t think those words will leave your mind for a good while, even if you wonder about the meaning of them. 

--

Later that evening, Kun makes dinner and you watch TV together, flipping to whatever channels have dramas or movies playing.

You two eventually fall into another conversation when you can’t find anything good to watch—one that does not make you overly nervous for once. During a lull in the talking, that big question pops up into your mind, and you wince internally at how Charlotte would’ve already told you to make a move. You aren't sure how to do that without making him uncomfortable or seeming too sudden, but you decide to make an attempt.

You edge into it with, “So, um, your place looks pretty nice for one guy. It’s just you here, right?”

“Ah yeah, just me. Thanks, I do try my best.”

“Haha, I’m used to my guy friends all having super messy apartments until they get a girlfriend and she teaches them how to clean a stove for the first time…”

“Oh really? That’s a bit sad for them, isn’t it?” He chuckles. “I’m not dating anyone right now, so it’s all me.”

Just the information you were looking for. You try not to show your elation. “Why not?” you blurt out. Then you cringe because this might sound too invasive or even judgmental, but Kun only grins. “It’s just, it’s a little surprising. You’re such a generous person. You seem to care about everyone, even those poor stray kitties that stay outside the apartments all the time.”

He smiles timidly in response to receiving more of your compliments. “I guess it seems curious when you put it like that.” Just like when you’d drunkenly said I love you so much, there’s suddenly heat on the back of his neck that he hopes won’t turn into another blush that’ll expose him. “I don’t really know, I haven’t thought much about it; life’s weird like that.” He isn’t really sure how to answer that question in a way that won’t be too big of a hint that he’s interested in you, though he’s also not entirely sure why he’s still trying to hide it. Wouldn’t now be the perfect opportunity? When will you two have this much time together again? Still, you staying in his apartment for two days doesn’t mean you like him, and maybe he’s jumping the gun.

“That’s true. Guess that’s the same reason why I’ve been alone for a while now.” You shake your head.

“You?” Kun is equally surprised to know this about you.

You laugh incredulously. “Does that shock you or something?”

“I...well.” He rubs the back of his neck as he searches for the words. “I just thought...you’re very pretty, and you’re always really kind when we speak, so...”

“Oh?” Your face heats up at that.

“Yeah, I…think anyone would be lucky to be with you.”

“Oh.” Your body’s first instinct is to freeze with nervousness, but you know Charlotte would be kicking your ass in gear right now if she were somehow here. So, you decide to stop stressing about it and just do it. “Well...wouldn’t it be nice if we both had a way to fix our problems at the same time?”

Kun pauses for a moment before replying. “What do you suggest?” He knows what you are proposing—you can see in his eyes and his slight grin and his posture that he knows—but maybe he wants to hear you say it out loud.

“Hm, well…I don’t know, what do you think?” You lean a bit closer to him, raising your eyebrows and trying your best to look innocent and unassuming. His smile turns into something different with your increased proximity. Something a little more sly.

Mirroring your actions, he inches nearer to you until there’s little space left between. “Well, I think…” Kun tentatively closes the remaining gap between the two of you, the rest of his sentence left to linger as his soft lips envelop yours.

Maybe it’s corny to say it, but it definitely feels like one of those fairytale kisses with the fireworks going off and streamers popping; even though you’re sitting on his couch wearing his pajamas, some movie in the background you’ve long forgotten the plot of, empty dinner plates sitting on the coffee table in front of you.

You aren’t sure how you end up in his lap—who made the first move? Was it his hand on your back or your hands on his shoulders? You straddle him on the couch, your arms slipping around his shoulders and his hands on your back but assuredly traveling farther down your body.

Kun’s hands come to rest on your thighs, pulling the fabric of his shorts up a few inches higher. “I never thought I’d see you wearing my clothes,” he says lowly, grinning against your mouth.

“I also never thought I’d be sitting in your lap like this, but maybe sometimes dreams do come true,” you say jokingly, your lips rubbing against his skin as you slowly kiss his jaw.

You can’t see his expression, but his eyebrows shoot up at that. “Dreams, huh? You think about me often?” His voice pitches lower when he asks this, aroused by the thought of you imagining anything quite so lewd about him. You’ve definitely incriminated yourself now and won’t be able to wiggle out of it without an answer.

“...Maybe.”

“What do you think about me?” Kun grips your hips, which quickly turns into him grabbing your ass—tentatively at first to test the waters, and then firmly enough to grind you against his hardening cock. Sensing him solid and warm underneath you sends a shockwave down your spine, and the sensation heightens when his voice caresses your ear, all low and tense with arousal. “It’s just the two of us here. No one else has to know.”

“I think about your...lips. How you might kiss me. Or what you might say to me. And...your hands.” You pause there, a quiet breath whispering past your lips. “You have really big hands, you know.”

“My hands…” Kun places one on your chest, spreading his fingers across and touching your collarbone. The heel of his palm glides on the top of your breast, and just that touch is enough to get you more worked up. “Hmm. Actually, I’ll admit I’m pretty good with my hands.” He smirks, and he’s possibly the finest thing you’ve ever seen. “What else, Y/N?”

“I thought about how you’d touch me.” His hand slides between your breasts now, down your sternum, and to your stomach. “Maybe I’d invite you into my apartment when Charlotte wasn’t there. We’d watch some stupid movie and pretend to be into it, but we’re really just thinking about each other. You’d eventually end up slipping your hand up my skirt...and making me cum all over your fingers.”

You aren’t sure how you’re saying all this to Kun right now, the dude you have a major crush on, without bursting into flames.

His shaft rubbing against your clit even through your layers of clothes makes you sigh dreamily, pressing your forehead to his and gripping at his shoulders and biceps. His bangs are soft against your forehead, and your breath stutters when he moves to kiss the side of your neck. He has to know how hard your heart is beating right now.

“And then what?” His voice is barely a whisper, then.

“And then you’d fuck me, of course.” There’s a slight laugh in your voice at the ticklish feeling of his lips kissing your skin.

“And then I’d fuck you...hm,” he echoes. “Sure, I can do that.”

The promise of it entices you, and more heat pools between your legs, amplified by the fabric rubbing against your sensitive parts. His hand that’s still on your stomach travels under your shirt then, and your hips falter in your rhythm against him when his fingers brush across your nipple. He brings his lips to your other breast, lapping his tongue against your nipple over the fabric.

You soon come like this, his shaft grinding against your clit and his clothes rubbing against your skin, his hands on your ass and his lips traveling across your breasts. The orgasm is sudden and surprises you, but it’s good, and you convulse as the waves of pleasure course through you. You weaken and slump against him, with him still teasing your breasts with his mouth and hands. Pushing your face into his hair, you moan into the black strands until the quivering stops.

You’re breathless when you speak again. “You haven’t come yet.”

“I’d rather do that when I’m inside you,” he replies. You giggle quietly.

“...What are you waiting for, then?”

“Hold on.” Kun carefully maneuvers you off his lap, and you already want to complain at the lack of his touch. “I have to get a condom.”

“Hurry, or you’ll miss all the fun,” you say as you pull your shirt off with your back to him. You look back over your shoulder at him and grin mischievously.

“You’re such a tease…”

Kun goes into his room to fetch a condom, and when he returns he’s already pulling his shirt off, leaving it on the floor somewhere. You’re fully naked now, your legs pulled up to your chest and your chin resting on your knees as you sit on the couch. Kun’s eyes drop between your legs, your inner thighs still glistening from your previous orgasm, and he swipes his tongue across his lips at the sight of you, wet and ready for him.

Likewise, your eyes drop to the dark trail of hair leading into his pants and his bulge just below it, the way his sweatpants cling to his length, and your pussy throbs with the desire to be filled.

“Please, hurry.”

Kun doesn’t waste any time in getting the rest of his clothes off, shoving his pants and underwear done in one swift move and rolling the condom over his shaft. He climbs onto the couch, grabbing your legs and guiding them around his waist, and you giggle at his eager but gentle touch as you recline on the couch pillows behind you.

He grabs his dick and lines it up with you, then pushes it in slowly at first. The stretch makes your toes curl, but it is a good kind of stretch, the kind that fills you to the brim. Like the missing element you needed.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice husky from the pleasure.

“Fuck, please,” is your answer as you shift your hips and try to get him all the way inside quicker. Noticing your urgency, he slides the rest of the way in until your hips are flush against each other and starts thrusting into you. His length dragging across your walls feels much better than you could’ve imagined on any given night, and you clasp your legs tighter around him to get ever closer.

After a point, he pushes your legs up with his hands behind your knees so he can get a deeper angle, and you both moan at the difference in sensation and how much tighter you get around him.

There is no ignoring the messy wet noises of your bodies colliding due to the slickness of your previous orgasm and the new wetness he’s continually fucking out of you. Each thrust reaches deep inside you, deep enough to make you nearly sob, your hands fumbling over your breasts and your clit all the while.

“Kun, god yes please,” you whimper, rocking your hips into the rhythm of his own. You fucking him back makes him groan deeply, his bangs hanging off his forehead as he dips his head to watch himself slide in and out of you. You could not control the urge or the motion of your body even if you wanted to; you want all of him, as close as he can get.

“I don’t want this to end,” he moans, and he pulls out without a warning. You gasp at the sudden emptiness, and your discontent comes out in a full whine. You’d be more embarrassed about it if you weren’t currently consumed with desire, but you presently do not care.

Kun sits back on the couch and pulls you on top of him again. “Ride me,” he says. So you grasp the base of his cock, him grunting as you do, and you press the tip against your entrance before pushing it in. He watches himself slip inside of you while fully enraptured, one hand tight on your hip.

Once you are full with him again, you experimentally grind against him to see how it’ll feel in this new position, and your arms tremble as his pelvis stimulates your clit.

“Go ahead,” he whispers, grasping the nape of your neck and kissing you hard once more, “fuck yourself on me.”

So you keep grinding your clit on him like that, your limbs shaking from the stimulation and your walls fluttering around his cock. You can barely catch a complete breath from him kissing you hard enough to make your lips swell, and your head is so fogged with lust that all you can concentrate on is getting yourself off just like he told you to do.

“Kun…” You roll your head onto his shoulder, pressing your forehead into his skin, your body tiring as you get closer to reaching that high. You’re so close to coming, but you’re not sure if you have enough strength left to get there on your own. Kun notices the state you’re in and grasps your hips to pull them into his, effortlessly sliding himself into you while making sure your clit gets stimulated at the same time.

The new friction of his dick rubbing against your g-spot in this position is enough to have you finally coming and crying out against his neck.

You continue babbling nonsense against his neck as he keeps fucking you, searching for his own end. His hands are hot on your body as he moves you up and down his length.

His climax comes soon after yours, his dick pulsing and his pace slowing. Your back arches at the sensation of him throbbing inside you and releasing his cum into the condom. The way he groans in your ear has your stomach clenching.

For a few minutes after, you both sit quietly and do nothing but cling to one another as you come down from the pleasure.

“So, does this mean we’re together now…?” Kun asks hopefully, running his hands over your back as you lie against him.

You smile against his skin. “Obviously. But if you still want to convince me, we can go a couple more rounds…”

[secretwhumplair]

😭 for Runar (cause caretakers need comfort too) - newbornwhumperfly

😭 - A shoulder to cry on

Thank you again! I hope you enjoy :D

This would be rather shortly after Yves ran away and was ~retrieved~

598 words

CW: language!

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“Go get some fresh air,” Signy had said, all but shoving Runar out of his own house. “You’ll go crazy in here. I’ll keep an eye on him.”

He trusted her, and now he was walking along the seashore, listening to the waves crashing into rocks with their steady, reassuring rhythm. Yves wouldn’t be happy to wake up without him there, but he also wouldn’t be happy to wake up with him, so what difference did it really make?

Ingunn walked beside him, keeping quiet. He knew what the point of this whole conspiracy was: the women wanted to give him an opportunity to vent his feelings. But what did it even matter? It was Yves who needed reassurance that none of them could give.

He sighed, pausing to look out at the sea he had brought Yves across. Signy’s words from that dreadful night echoed in his mind - it might have been kinder to kill him then and there.

He didn’t want to believe it.

“He’s still scared.” He didn’t look at Ingunn, to spare her the effort of hiding a triumphant expression.

“Of you?” She just said, matter-of-factly, and sat down on the sparse grass. The sun was growing weaker every day, but the weather was nice, barely any wind to blow away the leftover warmth of the autumn.

“Of me, of everything, I suppose.” Runar dropped himself next to his sister. As he said it, the truth of it hit him. Nothing he had done, no matter how hard he tried, hadn’t scared Yves. Maybe it wasn’t possible to do anything that didn’t scare him. How was he supposed to rest and recover like that?

“Signy said she thought he was getting better.”

“I thought so too. On the ship. But - I think he just got exhausted. He just… grew numb. Now since we’re here, everything has changed, and he’s right back to the start…” He pressed his lips together and looked away.

Ingunn put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly.

“It was my fault he ran away. I never should have left him alone, I knew he was scared…” He pressed a hand to his face, pressed his eyes closed. “Fuck.”

He let Ingunn pull him into her arms, resting his head against her shoulder where she wouldn’t see him cry. It was silly, really, but it felt better that way.

“He’s been through so much, and he survived. He survived whatever they did to him there, he survived the journey here, fuck, he survived running away in the rain and getting jumped by a fucking pack of wolves. He deserves a little rest.”

“You’re pretty fond of him, aren’t you?” There was no judgment in Ingunn’s voice, just soft curiosity.

“He’s strong. He deserves… he deserves a little comfort, and no matter what I try, I can’t give it to him.” He buried his face in the crook of Ingunn’s neck, and Ingunn patted his far shoulder. “I’m a healer, Ingunn. I’m supposed to heal him. And I-” I don’t know if I can. He couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud, but he knew Ingunn heard him all the same.

For a while, she was silent, offering no empty words of comfort, and he was grateful for that. Eventually, she said quietly, “Some sicknesses can’t be cured by the best of healers. That’s not your fault.”

He looked up at her face to be met with an unusually serious expression. “I still have to try.”

She nodded, raising her eyebrows into a more familiar facetious look. “You sure do, healer.”

[littlemisspascal]

Death and an Angel part 13

Death!Din x Cupid F!Reader

Summary: Ahsoka takes Din on a journey through the past.

“You should know though, you might not like what you see.”

Din shakes his head, dismissing the warning. “What’s one more nightmare?”

Rating: T

Word Count: 5,958

Warnings: angst, swearing, character death (canonical, but with my own twist), made up planet name that is ridiculous, dialogue heavy, plot plot plot, backstory

Author Note: Good lord this is soooo late coming out. To anyone who sent me an encouraging message I am beyond grateful because I really needed the encouragement to finish this segment. I hope more than anything this segment gives more answers than it raises questions (although reading your theories is both awesome and entertaining so keep them coming too!)

Links to Part 1 and Part 12 and Part 14

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

“Who the fuck is Moff Gideon?”

Ahsoka looks at Din, her brow furrowed deeply. He’s seen the expression on her face enough times to recognize its meaning: this is the face she makes when she is about to reveal a message directly from the universe itself. As an Oracle, she is the only immortal who can glimpse details of the past, present, and future. She has a soft spot for mortals, sharing the few precious snippets the universe allows her to with them in the forms of riddles and vague prophecies that never fail to give Din a migraine with their crypticness when he hears them.

“Moff Gideon is a Seraph who grew discontent with his position amongst immortals,” she says at last.

“Is he the one responsible for keeping my soulmate from me?” he asks, voice as harsh and unforgiving as the environment surrounding them.

“He is responsible for many sins.”

“I don’t have time for your vague answers,” he growls, hands twisting into fists. “You tell me not to kill this Seraph, then in the next breath claim he’s a threat. I am not a mortal who will be entertained by riddles, Ahsoka. You summoned me here to talk, so start talking. Tell me what you know.”

The Oracle’s mouth purses into a thin line. Nearly a full minute passes before she speaks again. When she does, the calmness is no longer natural, but forced. “Telling you what I know would be impossible.”

“Ahsoka—”

“But,” she pitches her voice higher than his protest while narrowing her eyes disapprovingly, “I am capable of showing you. You should know though, you might not like what you see.”

Din shakes his head, dismissing the warning. “What’s one more nightmare?”

She reaches forward, pressing her index and middle fingers to the center of his visor. If not for his helmet, she’d be touching the space directly between his eyes and instinct tells him the positioning isn’t random.

“We’ll start at the beginning,” she says, but her voice has changed from its usual cadence. It is ancient and youthful, a harsh scream and a hushed whisper all at once.

Din has only the slightest of seconds to process this in addition to the way her facial markings start to glow and her eyes flash white before he finds himself standing in the midst of a crisis.

There is mass hysteria every direction he turns. People screaming in terror, pushing each other and tripping over those who have fallen in their haste to flee an unseen threat; whole buildings are crumbling, sending flaming debris and shards of glass raining down upon the streets as smoke billows into the sky. The edges of his field of view are blurred, like he’s looking at everything through someone’s glasses, and it creates an ache behind his eyeballs. Fuck, is this what it’s like for Ahsoka when she experiences visions?

‘You remember the Fall of Mandalore, don’t you, Death?’ Ahsoka’s voice resonates from deep inside his brain, as if she’s fused her consciousness with his.

His jaw tightens when he says, “Of course.”

‘Oh, look. There you are.’

Sure enough, when Din looks forward he sees himself moving swiftly through the crowd, unaffected by the chaos as he stoops to reap the soul of a woman who’s had her skull caved in by the stampede of frantic civilians. He wonders how many others can say they’ve had an out-of-body-experience such as what he’s dealing with right now: reliving a traumatic event all over again while observing himself the same way a stranger would from a distance.

“Why are you showing me this?”

‘Because it’s important,’ Ahsoka answers, and the image of her frowning face enters his mind unbiddenly. ‘The universe has a plethora of endings imagined for every civilization, but it is the individual choices of the community that act as stepping stones bringing them closer to a specific fate.’

“Mandalore was always meant to fall apart. It was just a matter of how, not when,” he surmises, voice devoid of emotion. His words are punctuated by another fiery blast from a nearby complex, followed by an ear-piercing wall of a terrified child.

‘Precisely. But the same cannot be said for an individual’s lifespan. There are consequences if someone perishes before their time has come. You should know that better than anyone.’ There is a hint of accusation thinly veiled in her tone that has his body tensing reflexively.

His location shifts, shapes and colors mixing together without warning before another scene gradually comes into focus. It’s a large chamber with sparse furnishings, but its beauty is tarnished by the copious amounts of glass littering the room as every single one of the ornately designed windows have been shattered from the force of the explosions outside. Din knows before he even lays eyes on the throne he’s inside the royal palace because he first sees the familiar face of his most trusted reaper standing next to a blond-haired woman. Both women have such strikingly similar facial features nobody who sees them side by side can have any doubt they are related.

Whereas Bo-Katan dons gray-and-blue armor with a jetpack strapped to her back and two blaster pistols holstered at her sides, her sister, Satine, wears a garnet colored dress with a gold belt wrapped around her slender waist. In this moment, the sisters differ from each other as much as night and day; one a military leader, the other a pacifistic duchess.

“You need someone here to protect you. We don’t know who or what we’re dealing with and it isn’t safe for you to be alone,” Bo-Katan argues, crossing her arms over her chest as if to intimidate her sister into submitting.

“Our people are scared and defenseless, Bo. They need your protection during this crisis more than I currently do,” Satine says, voice soft but firm in a way only those deeply involved in politics can master.

Bo-Katan glances out the broken windows at the burning city, stubborn loyalty to protect her sister warring with her duty to protect her people. “Then at least send a message to Obi-Wan to come here.”

Satine shakes her head. “Bo—”

“I know things are strained between you two right now—”

“That’s a glaring understatement.”

“—but he’s one of our best and most loyal guards. He’s proven more than a dozen times he’ll fight anyone who’s a threat to you.”

“I don’t need the reminder of what he’s done for me.”

Bo-Katan places a hand on the blonde’s shoulder and squeezes it when she says, “He’s the only one other than myself I trust to protect you if you were to encounter danger.”

“Just because I’m committed to peace does not mean I am incapable of looking after myself.” Satine reaches behind herself to detach a weapon that had been clipped to the back of her belt. She clicks a button on its hilt, emitting a white blade shining brightly like a beacon amongst the dark clouds of smoke tainting the air.

Din’s breath catches in his throat. “Is that…?”

‘The Lightsaber of Mandalore,’ Ahsoka confirms. ‘Made by the Armorer herself.’

The Armorer is deeply respected by both mortals and immortals alike. As the goddess of metalworking and blacksmiths, there is nothing she cannot forge and infuse with grand powers. However, she is exceedingly cautious about choosing who is a recipient of her creations.

Din is one such recipient, having been given his armor of pure beskar when the Armorer realized how dangerous his touch was to mortals. He remains eternally grateful for the gift not only because it prohibits unwanted physical contact, but also because it is invulnerable to damage or rust like other types of armor. Ahsoka’s dual sabers were also made in the Armorer’s forge, specifically designed for the Oracle’s grip alone and meant to protect her during her journeys throughout the galaxy, but in contrast to the white blade of the Lightsaber, the blades of Ahsoka’s weapons matched the same blue coloring as the stripes on her lekku and montrals.

According to the legends Din’s heard, the Armorer created the Lightsaber for the first ruler of Mandalore because she was impressed with their culture and strong military, and it was passed on to each new heir to the throne over the centuries. When wielded in battle, the Lightsaber made the user invincible against enemy attacks as it siphoned off energy from the souls of those it sliced through.

Throughout the long history of Mandalore, Satine was distinguished as the only ruler to avoid warfare as she sincerely believed negotiations and treaties could solve any problem quicker than bloodshed.

As such, Din isn’t surprised when Bo-Katan raises a judgmental eyebrow. “Did you forget who you’re talking to? I know you wouldn’t use the Lightsaber even to cut a piece of fruit.”

Satine sighs through her nose, sheathing the weapon once more. “Fine. I’ll contact Obi the second you’re gone.”

“You better.” Bo-Katan leans forward, pressing her forehead against her sister’s. A gesture of affection within their culture. “I’ll see you soon.”

And then she’s gone, flying out the nearby window and diving straight into the fray. As a mortal and as a reaper, the redhead is fearless in the face of danger. Some might consider the behavior reckless, but Din’s always been impressed by her dogged tenacity to achieve victory no matter the difficulty of her mission.

Din looks back at Satine. Now that she is alone in the room, she is able to freely express her distress at the unfolding situation, looking as if she’s aged ten years within the blink of an eye. She fiddles with the comlink around her wrist, seeming hesitant to call this Obi-Wan fellow like she agreed to.

‘They haven’t realized it, but they’re soulmates, ’ Ahsoka murmurs, low and melancholic. Hearing it makes Din’s chest constrict with unease. ‘They fought recently and parted ways upset with each other. Unfortunately, she dies before they can resolve their miscommunication.’

The next sequence of events play out startlingly quick, as if Ahsoka has chosen to suddenly jump forward in time. His eyes struggle to absorb the fleeting details—the doors to the throne room being blown open; a Seraph in black armor emerging from the smoke; his voice is unique, velvety and thorny at the same time, as he addresses the duchess by her full name Satine Kryze; Satine attempting to stall as she subtly taps at her comlink, only for the tactic to fail as the foe teleports closer, eliminating the space between them.

“You have something I want,” he tells her, seizing hold of her throat. “You may think you have some idea of what you have in your possession, but you do not.”

One of Satine’s hands claws at his face, attempting to gouge out his eyeballs with her nails, while the other reaches for the Lightsaber. Her fingertips brush against its metal hilt just as he throws her to the floor. The impact knocks the breath out of her lungs, eliciting a strangled gasp, and shards of glass dig into her exposed skin, dotting the pale flesh with beads of blood.

Gideon��Din doesn’t need Ahsoka’s input to know this, for who else could the Seraph be but him?—places the heel of his boot over Satine’s neck. He doesn’t apply pressure yet, but the action in itself has the duchess squirming with panic, hitting at his leg futilely. There is a red light on the comlink flashing insistently, indicating someone on the other end is speaking but they’ve been muted.

“Give me the asset I seek.”

Through clenched teeth, Satine wheezes, “It belongs to Mandalore.”

“I thought you might say that,” Gideon replies, feigning disappointment. “However, in case you haven’t noticed Duchess,” he gestures towards the windows, “Mandalore is dead. My accomplices have made sure of that.”

“You’re a coward for hiding behind others. You don’t deserve the Lightsaber.”

There is a sudden change in the atmosphere, air turning impossibly frigid and crisp.

“I deserve it more than anyone,” Gideon says, angry enough he is trembling. The Seraph’s stance shifts, and although Din has witnessed every type of brutal death imaginable, he flinches at the sound of Satine’s neck snapping beneath his heel.

Gideon rolls her lifeless body over and rips the Lightsaber off her belt, a satisfied smirk on his face. He disappears as quickly as he arrived, reward in hand, and an eerie silence envelops the room. It’s almost as if the palace itself is stunned by the loss of its ruler, struggling to make sense of the merciless act of violence.

Time skips forward again, showing a young bearded-man dressed in military armor clutching at Satine’s body, pressing his forehead against hers as he weeps. Over and over he keeps murmuring apologies for not being quicker, for failing to be there when she needed him, for never saying he loved her.

“How do you know Satine and Obi-Wan are soulmates if they never matched?” Din asks, feeling like he’s intruding on a private moment despite not actually being there.

He thinks of a similarly phrased question he’d asked his angel on their way to Sorgan what feels like entire lifetimes ago: how will I know it’s my soulmate? Her eloquent response remains embedded deep in his memory, safely stored away along with every other moment they’ve spent together. Longing twists like a knife in his side as he allows himself a second of weakness to look at the soulmate marking on his palm.

‘I saw the life they were going to share,’ Ahsoka tells him. ‘Satine Kryze was not meant to die here. She and Obi-Wan should have both survived the Fall of Mandalore, settling down happily with each other elsewhere in the galaxy. Gideon’s greed altered their destinies.’

The palace fades away to reveal a much older Obi-Wan, gray-haired and wrinkled. He’s in Mos Eisley; Din recognizes the crowded spaceport instantly having taken his ship there for repairs numerous times over the years.

‘The universe puts a lot of effort into making sure soulmates match with each other at a very precise moment. Even if the match is rejected, the individuals still had an important impact on each other’s lives. Timing is the most important factor for a soulmate pairing, and if it’s off then the universe will attempt to fix it.’

Obi-Wan stops to help a woman who’s accidentally dropped her shopping bag, contents spilling out onto the sandy ground. She thanks him as he offers her a polite smile, both of their attentions on each other’s faces and not their hands. More specifically: their marked hands. There is the barest brush of their fingertips as they reach for the same item before an invisible blast of energy erupts from their touch, splitting them apart and sending every person and thing surrounding them flying in all directions.

The shock on Obi-Wan’s face matches Din’s own beneath his helmet. He remembers his angel telling him after the failed match with Omera what happened on Sorgan wasn’t the first time an event like that occurred, but she hadn’t been privy to the details. Her superior had told her she wasn’t high enough ranking which Din had thought sounded like a load of bantha shit at the time.

“Ahsoka, what is the meaning of this?” Din asks the questions quietly, but there’s an audible coating of frustration that he knows she won’t miss. “Satine’s dead.”

‘You didn’t reap her soul,’ Ahsoka says. It’s said as a gentle reminder, but it nevertheless has Din feeling like the ground has disappeared beneath his feet as realization dawns.

“I...didn’t.”

A quiet sigh echoes through his head. ‘I forgot how ignorant you can be. You can’t reap a mortal soul that transforms into a new entity.’

“She’s a Cupid,” Din murmurs. Either that or a reaper, but he knows each of his reapers like the back of his hand and Satine isn’t nor has she ever been one. He shakes his head, thinking of Obi-Wan finding Satine’s body in the throne room. “That doesn’t make any sense. Obi-Wan clearly loved her.”

‘Rejection can sometimes stem from a misunderstanding. Satine’s last living encounter with Obi-Wan was him saying so long as he was part of the royal guard they had no future together. She perceived this as him denying he cared about her, not knowing he had made plans to retire in order to ask for her hand.’

In front of Din, Obi-Wan rubs at his soulmate marking while staring at the mess around him, lines of unease and confusion creasing his forehead.

‘You asked, what is the meaning of this moment?’ Ahsoka continues. ‘It’s one of the universe’s attempts to reconnect Obi-Wan and Satine so they experience their matching as they were intended to.’

“But they’re of different statuses,” he points out needlessly. “She’ll outlive him.”

‘Yes, but the matching of soulmates not only influences the lives of the pair, but the lives of other people as well in ways both obvious and invisible. Think of it as a ripple effect.’

“Did the universe’s attempt work?” Din wonders. “Were they ever reunited?”

‘When Satine awoke as a Cupid, it was a surprise to both her and Gideon. Rather than kill her a second time, the Seraph chose to inflict a worse fate. She became the first of her kind to have her memories erased. However, he’d never previously used his ability on another immortal before, resulting in him nearly wiping her entire mind clean. The universe is capable of many miracles, big and small, but every attempt of reuniting the pair failed. It remains the universe’s most profound regret which is ultimately the reason why the universe brought you to Trinomliaxeros without your armor so that history wouldn’t repeat itself.’

There is a strange, heavy feeling that suddenly inflates within the confines of Din’s chest like a balloon. It’s different from the rampant anger he can still detect simmering beneath the skin of his human façade. He tries to shake it off, focusing on his breathing and the desert heat emanating from the twin suns overhead, only to slowly realize that what he’s feeling is fear.

Within his memory he can recall just one other distinct moment in his existence where he felt this spine-chilling emotion, and that moment was experienced on Trinomliaxeros.

“What did you just say?” His voice sounds shaky even to his own ears, but he can’t find any energy within himself to care.

A long stretch of silence fills his head; it’s the fragile kind, too, preventing him from snapping at Ahsoka to answer lest she become angry at him and yank him out the vision entirely.

‘Twice the timing of a soulmate match has been disturbed. The first pair affected was Obi-Wan and Satine. And the second pair was...’

“Ahsoka,” he says when she hesitates to continue, but any additional words he can think of saying catch in the back of his throat.

‘The second pair was you and your angel.’ Another pause of silence, shorter but no less meaningful. ‘Only fifty years ago, she wasn’t an angel.’

This is what Din remembers from Trinomliaxeros: feeling a pull so forceful, impatient and unanticipated it drags him across the galaxy in his civilian clothes, arriving to find the planet engulfed in smoke, unable to see his hand in front of his face, even without his gloves on. Finding skeletal remains burnt to blackened crisps with the souls inside shaking and traumatized, practically leaping into his outstretched hand, knowing either the afterlife or damnation would be better destinations than lingering there even a second longer. Explosions in the distance, bursts of flames as intense and hot as the sun, greedily consuming everything in their radius.

Out of the smoke and darkness, a survivor. A girl, covered in soot and sweat, colliding with his chest. The dead are calling out to him, pleading for him to reap them, to save them. Their voices swirl around his head, clawing at his brain and pounding against his skull. Shoving the girl aside, one foot in front of the other, letting his powers guide him to the next soul. Her voice cuts across the distance, a plasma bolt striking him in the back. We’re soulmates, she says.

His breath stills in his lungs. Fear spreads like a virus through his bloodstream, slipping beneath his defenses, turning him into a stranger within his own body. The declaration is a lie, an impossibility, a delusion. He has no match, hands unmarked, flesh poisonous and lethal. His words, too, are weapons themselves. Sharp, ruthless, desiring to wound her as she’s wounded him. You could never be my soulmate.

And then he’d left her.

This is what Din remembers. But, he thinks, squeezing his eyes shut so tightly it hurts, I’ve remembered everything all wrong.

Phantom hands gently press against the sides of his helmet, offering comfort without caring about the dried blood. He keeps his eyes shut, knowing it’s just a manifestation crafted by Ahsoka in his head. ‘Don’t blame yourself. This was the only viable outcome the universe could produce to ensure the bad timing would be remedied in the future,’ she says, but it does little to lessen the weight on his chest. ‘Your rejection saved her life. It granted you both a second chance of a first meeting.’

“How did—” Din struggles to string words together, to fucking breathe. “She—She knew. What we were. How…?”

The Oracle puts him out of his misery. ‘She found out the way all soulmates do: through touch.’

Din’s eyes fly open at that, and he has to blink a few times to bring everything into focus because there’s him and his angel right in front of him, frozen mid-collision. She’s grasping the sleeves of his coat to keep her balance, the palm of her marked hand touching his wrist. He stares at the point of contact for a moment, then barks out a laugh, hysterical and strangled sounding.

“That’s not possible.”

‘Soulmates can’t kill each other. She’s always been meant to withstand your touch.’

Din swallows thickly, staring at his angel’s face. He hates the question forming on his tongue, but it will haunt him the rest of his life if he doesn’t ask it. “In your visions, when I meet her at the right time, what happens?”

'You’re different by then, less broody and more accepting of the notion you could be loved. You have a soulmate marking,’ Ahsoka tells him. ‘You fall for her hard, even before your hands brush. You love her throughout the entirety of her lifetime.’

“And...when she dies?” The words taste like blood in his mouth.

‘Don’t torture yourself, Death. That timeline doesn’t exist anymore.’

For one brief, fleeting second Din is actually grateful Gideon altered their destinies. However, in the next, he’s trying not to let the fear gnawing at the back of his mind increase as it belatedly occurs to him that the universe is not as infallible as he’s always believed it was.

He wishes he could see Ahsoka, if only so he could glare at her directly. “Everything you’ve shown me has only further convinced me Gideon deserves death. Why have you asked me to promise not to kill him?”

'Do you remember what happens after this moment on Trinomliaxeros?’

Din frowns at the change of subject. “I continued to reap souls.”

'Yes. And then?’

He huffs a frustrated breath through his nose. This is Ahsoka, he thinks, at her most annoying. But, as much he loathes admitting it, this is also the most helpfully transparent she’s ever been. Today may be the only time she trusts him enough to share her visions. He owes it to her to be as open as she’s being with him.

That being said, he’s still wary of the memories he’s kept in the distant, shadowy corners of his mind being pulled into the spotlight. “Tell me we’re not gonna talk about the kid.”

‘We talked about the universe’s biggest regret. It’s only fair we talk about yours too.’ Ahsoka has found the crack in his armor he’s tried so long to conceal, peeling it open without remorse.

She doesn’t spare him time to argue. All he does is blink and he’s looking at his past self locked in a staring contest with a little green-skinned child who is propped up inside a floating, orb-shaped pram.

Of all the buildings and homes on the planet, only its temple had remained untouched by the destruction. Din didn’t know if it had been the structure’s own holy foundation keeping it standing or if it was the personal choice of the mastermind behind the attack, but he’d been drawn to it regardless, finding souls there to reap whose hosts had differed from other victims in that their throats had been slit. The walls of the temple were adorned with intricate murals depicting immortal figures and religious events of ancient history, but before he could observe the artwork closer, a quiet coo had stopped him in his tracks.

When he opened the pram, he hadn’t anticipated finding a baby of all creatures. When their eyes connected, every background noise abruptly ceased. Even the voices of the dead fell silent. Rather than rouse his suspicions, Din had felt only a sense of peace he usually only experienced in the midst of hyperspace travel where the stars were his voiceless companions.

An unspoken conversation transpired between the two of them, one Din still can’t translate into words all these years later, but it concluded with him knowing he would take the child with him.

Din had reached for him unthinkingly, the child lifting his arms up in eagerness to be held, but self-awareness kicked in right before contact and Din retracted his hands away so fast it startled the child into crying, brown eyes filling with tears. Panicked, he surveyed the room, looking for something to put an end to the wailing, before looking down at his own coat, experiencing a lightbulb moment.

“Alright, kid, it’s okay. You’re okay.” Watching his past self shrug off the coat, Din remembers it had been his favorite of his civilian clothes, well worth the cost for its soft fabric and length. He managed to successfully swaddle the child, ensuring his arms were safely tucked away to prevent him endangering his life, and Din exhaled a quiet breath of relief when the tears dried up almost immediately.

However, the ensuing silence wasn’t as peaceful as the previous one. Both past and present Din turn at the sound of distant shuffling echoing off the temple walls from another room.

“Ignore it,” Din tells his past self. “Just take the kid and leave.”

But his plea goes unheard and the past remains unchanged. Ahsoka is silent inside his head, either because she knows he won’t accept any more comforting words or because she thinks he’s undeserving of them for choosing to leave the child behind in his pram, closing it when he starts to whine again, so Din can go investigate the noise.

Din exhales a quiet breath, fingers twitching restlessly at his sides as he watches himself stalk through the temple halls, checking each room he comes across. It’s strange, seeing himself from this perspective. The distanced viewpoint allows Din to glimpse new details he hadn’t been capable of noticing back then.

Such as the reappearance of a familiar Seraph emerging from the shadows to stab him in the back.

Here’s one of the perks about being Death: he can’t be killed. That fact doesn’t mean there haven’t been attempts though. As Death, people sometimes look at his armor as a challenge. Like if they can fire a shot or throw a knife at just the right angle, it’ll wound him and allow them to live longer. Simply put, all those people are idiots.

When he looks like a regular, unintimidating civilian, he’s also been involved in violent predicaments where someone’s attempted to mug him or where he’s tried to save someone else from a similarly sticky situation.

Armor or no armor though, he’s always walked away from these encounters completely unscathed.

Well. With the sole exception of Trinomliaxeros where he was mostly unscathed.

It wasn’t the first time Din had been stabbed before. Usually knife wounds felt like a mild pinch. More irritating than painful, similar to a splinter stuck in one’s thumb. Once the weapon was removed, the damage healed within seconds, leaving behind no scar or proof he was ever attacked.

Usually, is the keyword to note here.

Ahsoka freezes time right when the blade of the Lightsaber is driven straight through the center of Din’s body, bone and flesh as easy to slice through as melted butter. His agonized expression—eyes screwed shut and lips open in a silent scream—would be comical if Din didn’t remember the exact emotions he was feeling in that moment.

Instead of a pinch, it’d felt as if thousands of invisible hands were pulling and scratching at him, attempting to strip apart his human exterior layer by layer—peeling off skin, scraping away muscle and bone marrow, seeking to reach the core of himself where his powers resided.

‘Looks like it hurts,’ Ahsoka says. The return of her naturally calm and neutral tone of voice seems almost cruel given the frozen, graphic display.

Din again wishes he could glare at her. “Is this funny to you?”

‘The transformation of the Lightsaber into the Darksaber is anything but funny.’

Lost in recollection, he failed to notice until now how the blade of the Lightsaber has changed in color from white to black. It’s the same inky hue that absorbs the brown in his eyes, that had dyed his veins during the execution of Hess.

‘The Armorer specifically instructed the Lightsaber only be used against enemies. As a neutral entity, you are, by definition, no one’s ally or adversary. By stabbing you, the saber became corrupted. It is a consequence Gideon still has yet to fully realize the monumental repercussions of.’

Time resumes, Din’s past self collapsing onto the floor, pressing a hand to the throbbing hole in his chest, attention too consumed by the franticness of his powers struggling to repair the trauma to notice Gideon lingering behind him. The Seraph’s stunned look of shock lasts barely ten seconds, morphing into one of deep contemplation as his gaze flicked between the weapon and Din, before he vanished.

When Din recovered enough to stand, he teleported back to the child’s location at once. He needs to get the little guy as far away from here as possible, somewhere peaceful and safe. His planning came to an abrupt halt upon finding the pram open and empty, his coat shredded and scattered about the floor in pieces.

“Gideon took him.” It isn’t a question.

‘Yes,’ she confirms. ‘The child was the intended target of this siege.’

“Why?”

‘He’s...very special.’ There is something about how her voice hitches when she says ‘special’ that has Din’s instincts prickling with alertness, but he holds his tongue. ‘Gideon considers him a tool he can take advantage of.’

The ugly, tight mass of anger swells inside of him and presses against his lungs, resulting in a low growl slipping out of his mouth. He curses his own ineptitude. If he’d paid more attention, hadn’t allowed himself to be wounded, he could have subdued Gideon and spared both his angel and the child from being captured.

“I warned you once upon a time, there would be consequences if you released your darkness,” Ahsoka says, her voice no longer emitting from inside his head. The vision fades back into reality the same sudden, jarring way one wakes up from dreaming. It takes all of Din’s self-restraint not to perform a full-body shake. “Your control is slipping as your rage increases. It’s making you not think clearly which is exactly what Gideon wants. That is the reason I am asking you to promise you will not kill him.”

Put like that, Din no longer thinks her request sounds quite so outlandish, even though he does still remain in the dark as to what consequences exactly will unfold. Ahsoka has remained stubbornly tight-lipped about the topic from their very first encounter, claiming the universe is adamant she can only share the details with one other person and it isn’t him.

“He deserves to die for all he’s done,” Din says quietly, but he’s self-aware to know his resistance is beginning to crumble.

“Between you and me, I think so, too,” she admits in the same low tone. Her ocean eyes are dark and stormy, reflecting her internal turmoil. “But rules are made for a reason and we would be fools to carelessly overlook the consequences of breaking them.”

The accusatory note from earlier has returned with a vengeance. He’s not surprised—of course the universe would utilize the Oracle to express its disapproval—but aggravation still thrums through his veins.

“Hess played a hand in my soulmate’s fate. He called her a whore.” Din’s upper lip twitches with the urge to snarl. “I don’t regret what I did to him.”

Ahsoka sighs. “I was afraid you’d say that. When you swore your creed, you promised the universe you’d only reap a soul when their host’s time has reached its destined end. By killing Hess, you not only broke a sacred rule, you also broke your creed.”

Din recoils, feeling like he’s been stabbed with the Lightsaber all over again.

“...What?” The anger is gone, extinguished by the weight of the revelation. Confusion and wariness are quick to fill the void. “What does that mean?”

She looks away then, but not quick enough to hide her troubled expression. “I...don’t know.”

He blinks, mind scrambling to understand the implications. “Isn’t that your purpose? To know everything?”

“For the very first time, the future’s unclear to me,” she murmurs, eyes briefly turning cloudy as if she’s trying to take a peek at the potential timelines right then and there. She shakes her head a beat later, frowning. “There are many choices left to be made, each one capable of influencing the fate of the galaxy. It is not possible at this time for me to predict our upcoming reality, let alone your consequences. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Din says, because it’s the truth and he doesn’t like seeing her crestfallen expression. Fuck, he might actually consider her a friend after all.

Whatever happens, he thinks to himself, it can’t be any worse to deal with than being separated from his soulmate. If he can survive this, he can survive anything.

“The last promise I made was broken.” He bites back a wince at the memory of his angel’s pinky promise. “But if making another one is the only way you’ll take me to my soulmate, then you have my word. I won’t kill him.”

A ghost of a smile pulls at her lips before she grabs hold of one of his vambraces. “Take me to your ship. I will guide you to her location.”

“You don’t trust me to go alone?” he asks, unsure whether to be amused or indignant.

“No,” Ahsoka replies bluntly.

Din huffs. “Fine.”

“I may not be able to see much at the moment, but I know it’s never wise to turn down support. You’re going to need us.”

“Us?”

“It’s Bo-Katan’s choice to make, but you and I both know she’s never been one to back down from a fight. Especially once she learns Gideon is her sister’s murderer.”

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[writings-by-blondie]

~If The Stars Could Speak~

Soap Mactavish x F!Reader (teaspoon of Angst)

She was way too good for him and he knew that yet he couldn't forget the way her (h/c) hair fell over her shoulders, her laugh and a bit cold, but glittery look of her (e/c) eyes when their gaze met for the first time..it was like he could see universe in them.

He was in cold, gloomy, Russia, on a mission that was to be last, scribbling down words on the peace of paper, counting down hours till he get to hold her forever...

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

His most trusting man, and friend, Simon and him decided to lay back and enjoy some free time they were granted away from their ever noisy and ever busy camp.

They were at downtown, walking and talking about how tonight is their night - they will leave job at office and they will just enjoy strong alcohol and good music.

The night was a bit chilly, but nothing unusual for the late September.

That just meant that John will finally have chance to wear that nice black spitfire jacket he bought not long ago, and he looked well in it.

As the two men walked they spotted the bar they wanted to be in for the rest of the night, right outside of it, sticking out like a sore thumb was parked some expensive car that John didn't know how to indenify as. He wasn't a big car head like his friend.

"Look at this mate. Its Porsche, bet some meat heads are in this place",

said Simon chucking and eyeing the car and tilting his head slowly towards the bar.

Mactavish smirked and pushed his friend gently as he started walking in, "You have a problem with that or you're just scared of guys who drive expensive cars, eh?".

Inside of the bar you and small group of your friends were in VIP lounge. Infront of you, on small glass table was a bucket filled with ice that kept some red bulls and couple of Baltica beers cold.

You were drinking Jack Daniels, your glass half full. Being tipsy already, you fake-laughed at some perverse joke friend next to you finished telling.

Tonight, you really felt down. Truth to be told, you've been feeling under the weather last couple of months, nothing seemed to go the right way and nothing you did could change that feeling. On top of that your stupid poosh boyfriend broke up with you over text last week, and even though you understood that your friends cared for you and wanted you to forget about that fool and enjoy yourself, you still couldn't shake away the bitterness and just wanted to curl away in your bed, eat some strawberry ice cream and watch ‘Casablanca’.

But here you were, in a black dress that glittered under the light, your hair styled in lazy but not messy curls, and your over-expensive white heels. You looked like the IT girl that every man would want for them selves, to put you on pedestal and admire you.

(Y/n) leaned back in the black leather seat before she took a deep sigh that was followed by pouting and throwing down rest of the Jack that was in her glass down her throat. It burned for a bit, but the sweet flavour of alcohol made her want to drink more, so she opened the half empty bottle and poured more of the honey-coloured liquid into her glass.

She leaned in close to her friend on the left and whispered,

"I need to go and check my make up. Save a seat for me, and dont touch my bottle, I will know if you do.",

you almost groaned last words since you knew well that your friends loved to mess with you.

The (h/c) girl now stood up, taking her light coloured purse that matched with her heels, in her hands and started walking towards the washroom of the bar.

The floor was wooden, hard wood, after all the bar was made to accommodate high class people and to draw in tourists who had a lot of money to spend. Her heels making a little bit noise as her steps collided with the floor. It was a southing sound, like when rain hits the metal.

Her hips swayed as her dress didn't quite hug her whole neatly shaped figure, so it swayed with her movements, glittering under the dim light of the noisy bar.

She had to watch every step since she felt that the alcohol was indeed kicking in, but the song playing on stereos drew her attention and just for a tiny moment she forgot completely that she had heels on.

"Shit-", you muttered loudly as your purse left your hands and you could see the dark wooden floor getting close to you now, but you weren't colliding with it, instead you felt stern grip on your waist, feeling the coldness of someones hand that went straight to your skin, under the dress. You furrowed eyebrows before looking up, facing a, without any exaggeration, handsomest man you ever laid eyes upon.

His eyes, blue as the sea in mid July in the noon, almost glittering like a waves when they shine under the hot sun. His smell now invaded your nostrils touching your senses, stimulating them, wanting more of it. It was pine mixed with old brand of ‘denim’, manly but still subtle, just enough.

He smiled at you softly looking into your eyes, not breaking eye contact once.

"Careful now lass, we don’t want any broken bones yet, the night is still young eh?..", he spoke with thick and extremely attractive (for some reason) Scottish accent and she took deep breath in, as the man slowly placed the girl in front of him back on her legs, parting his hand with her waist. The girl licked her lover lip, realizing now that she was blushing way more than it was appropriate for this kind of situation and softly muttered, "Sorry.. The heels..", under her breath before she walked pass the man and disappeared into woman's washroom.

Mactavish however trailed her with his eyes, her long and subtly toned legs, and the way the subtle cutout on her dress reviled a bit of her thigh. She was clearly in distress and he couldn't help but chuckle a bit to himself as he picked up her purse from the floor and sat down in the nearby booth with Simon.

"What the hell was that?", Riley said as he took off his black leather jacket, placing it next to him.

"It was like some scene out of those old movies mate. Its like, in that one moment, universe existed to put us together.", John smiled to himself, also placing his jacket next to him, being a bit surprised at his own words, he wasn't cheesy, but romantic? He was that.

And he would never let any of his friends know that since well, it was an army and he didn't need Ghost going around the base telling everyone that their captain was softie.

"Since when are you that cheeky eh? Maybe Price doesn't make you do enough pushups at morning." Simon smirked at his friend and raised his hand to call the bartender,

"Its a quote, some of us are literate cinema vise mate", Mactavish smirked back at him leaning over the table, trying to reach for his cigars in his back pocket, "But she is bonnie, nonetheless.".

In washroom you tried to steady your breathing. You put your hand on your chest and closed eyes, but the only thing you could see was the man's eyes and his face. Girl quickly opened her eyes and looked at her reflection in big mirror that was placed on black and white tiles. (Y/n) looked at her face, noticing few spots where her make up was messed up, she pouted a bit and reached down on the sink for her purse, but her palm was met only with cold marble sink.

You quickly shot your gaze towards your hand, with your eyebrows furrowed. Eyes darting across the sink, around it and eventually around the whole washroom then the realisation hit you like a heavy boulder- you dropped your purse when you tripped, when he grabbed you.

"For fucks sake..", you muttered under the breath. It was enough humiliating that probably whole bar watched you stumble around like a new born deer and almost kiss the floor, but now you had to go retrieve your purse that was probably still on the ground and go back to washroom again looking like a lost highschool girl on the party.

You shook your head and realised that stupid anxiety attack got your judgment clouded- people fall every day, and they drop stuff everyday too.

The girl now straighten her posture, fixed her hair a bit and opened the door, exiting the cool room she was in before heading to the booth were she dropped her purse, but to her surprise the purse was not on the floor instead she heard familiar thick accent from the booth next to where she was standing,

"Looking for this lass?", the man waved with her purse smiling at her with one of his brows raised, his friend watching her, waiting for her next move.

You swallowed a big gulp, approaching the booth were the men were sitting slowly, taking your purse from the blue eyed man,

"Yes, thank you. Saving me from embarrassment.. Very noble of you.", you said with a now confident voice, not breaking eye contact with him. There was something about him, something unexplainable. It was like that with every second she looked at his face, at his slightly parted lips as a little smile formed on his face, you were losing grip on the time it was like a whole universe worked for you and him.

"Glad I could help ma'am. Those shoes do look dangerous, better watch your step.", the man spoke and she smiled at him, shyly nodding and turning around, breaking the eye contact with him, slowly walking towards her own booth where her friends were loud and drunk.

But every step you took was heavier than the last one, you didn't want to go there, you wanted to sit with him, smell that invading pine again, feel his touch again.. Was this alcohol that was in your bloodstream?

You stopped suddenly and took a deep breath, before turning on your heels and going back to the two man who were now smoking, their drinks were on their table as well.

"Oh screw it. Universe, dont make a fool out of me!", you thought internally as you approached back their booth, and both men looked up at you again.

"Do you need some help lassie? Are you feeling well?", the blue eyed man asked. You actually just now noticed that he had his hair styled as a mohawk and it suited him so nice, the scar over his eye stuck out as well.

You snapped out and shook your head in denial,

"Would you mind if I joined you for a drink?",

Ghost cleared his throat and looked away with a huge smirk over his face, avoiding John’s stern look. Mactavish moved himself to the left, leaving vacant place for the girl to sit and nodded his head down while putting out cigar that was already burned.

You sat next to him, smiling and biting inside of your cheek, leaving your purse on the edge of the table waving to the bartender to get his attention, you showed him universal sign for ‘another bottle’ and the man nod to you.

You returned your attention towards two men who were gazing at you the whole time.

"So, who wishes to start this AA meeting? How about you sir?", you pointed at men across from you. Both men cracked at your joke before the one you pointed at started talking,

"Name's Simon, that’s Soap- I mean John..", Simon barely held in his laugh looking away from the pair. You looked at men next to you and his jaw was clenched, he obviously didn't like that one.

"Y/N, nice to meet you fellas. This night needed some life in it. I was dying of boredom over at VIP's. Some fresh environment is nice..",

you smiled at John who was downing his beer, slowly he nod at the girl and the bartender finally came with your new bottle of Jack and three glasses for each of you.

"Put it on my bill, thanks.", you said and John eyed you as you opened the bottle of whiskey and poured everyone about a half of the glass, raising your own towards him as you finished. You smirked a bit, leaning towards him, unintentionally, your thigh subtly brushed against his light blue denim jeans.

"Cheers to not breaking bones and to concerned strangers.”, you said the words, slowly looking up at his eyes yet again.

John looked down at you, slowly colliding his glass with yours.

"Well, cheers to me I guess..", Simon muttered to himself and downed down the glass. You couldn't help but laugh sincerely, John joining you while rolling his eyes at Simon,

"Ghost getting ghosted, this will be the story to tell the mates back at camp for sure..".

You raised your eyebrow in confusion, leaving your glass on the table and crossing your legs, leaning back,

"Camp? What are you two like some secret agents or something?", you asked and John and Simon talked to you about their job deep into night. They explained their line or work as subtle as they could and shared some of the funniest moments from their missions with you.

John enjoyed your laugh, the way you blushed when you caught him looking at you, avoiding his gaze, how well your lips were glossed and your perfume that made him want to invade your neck and collarbone with small and soft kisses. He also noticed how soft your skin was when he "accidentally" touched your hand as you were reaching for the bottle, wanting to pour another drink.

It was about 3 in the morning when you turned around towards the bartender who was next to you, telling you and your new friends that the bar is closing in about five minutes. Your friends left long time ago, too drunk to even notice that you were gone or that you were now sitting elsewhere.

"Oh come on Gorge! Cant you see how much fun we are having here? Can’t you just lock us in or join us?", you blinked innocently at the bartender and it made man blush, ofcourse that didn't go unnoticed by Mactavish who cleared his throat subtly and put his hand around your shoulder. You turned your head, raising eyebrow at him and questioning what the hell he was doing.

"Come on lass, man has a job to do, a boss to answer to. We will get you to your hotel eh?", you chuckled at him, now relaxing into his touch, and he loved it. He softly rubbed exposed skin on your shoulder with his thumb and you inhaled sharply, smiling at him reaching for your purse and pulling out keys from your car,

"I drank a lot.. Who is driving lads?",

You closed the door of your Porsche and could hear Simon in the back seat whistle,

"It even has leather inside and tv in the back of the seat. Of course it does.. For gods sake (y/n), you could've just told us that you are rich. We would've distanced from you.", Riley made a joke and you laughed, turning around in your seat looking at Simon, as John started the car, slowly advancing towards the main street.

"I wouldn't trade time I had with you boys for nothing in this world. I haven't laughed like that in ages..",

Riley now looked at Mactavish on review mirror smirking,

"Soap, drop me off first and then take (y/n) back to her place. Base is just around the corner it will save her some gas.".

You eyed man who was driving now, waiting for his response, he groaned in response then he nodded slowly looking at you, before returning eyes to the road that was empty. The city was in deep sleep.

John parked infront of some old looking house and Simon chuckled, "Well this is my stop. I'll see ya in the morning mate, don't forget to freshen up, we will need you frosty eh?",

Simon said before he slammed the doors shut and swiftly disappeared into the house.

You looked at John and pouted a bit, he looked and you and wiggled his eyebrows playfully,

"Where to miss?", he put up his best British accent and you couldn't help but laugh at how silly he sounded.

"With you? To the stars.." you leaned on his shoulder and kicked down your heels, tucking your legs under your tights.

Mactavish took a deep breath, inhaling the sent of your perfume, before he started driving again, he reached for the radio and turned it on.

A soft tune of "Midnight" song was on it and you hummed in approval.

"You know, I feel like I should've met you long ago instead of wasting my time around, not knowing where am I going, what am I doing. I wish this night could last forever John, I wish I could be stuck in it forever.."

The man smiled and reached for one of your hands, locking his fingers with your smaller ones, his eyes never leaving the road.

"I want to show you one place, if you are not up for sleep yet lassie?"

You parted your head with his shoulder to look up at him, his face being illuminated by dim street lights, he looked so soft and like he didn't have any worry in the world.

"Aye sir, I am in your hands for the rest of this trip." you joked and he let out a huffed laugh, bringing your hand closer to his lips, kissing your knuckles, you watched him carefully, biting your lower lip as you felt the warmth spread throughout your entire body from just that tiny exchange of affection.

John parked the car, pulled the break and turned the machine off. He leaned back in the leather seat and looked at you, smile creeping around the corners of his mouth.

"Take my jacket, it can be windy up here."

He said and reached in the back seat for his jacket, handing it to you. You took it into your hands and looked around you, it was quiet and dark all around. Not single lamp post or anything was in the vicinity, only the headlights that John left on, and the soft tune of radio that still played.

"There is nothing here, and honestly it feels like a horror movie. Am I about to be murdured  and thrown from this cliff John?"

Mactavish just chuckled and opened the car doors on his side,

"Do you trust me lass?", he asked as he leaned on the car roof, peeking inside and looking at you.

"Do I trust man I just met in local bar to exit my car, my only way of escaping, and obey him to walk into my own funeral? Sure yeah, here I come.." you said with playful tone as you stepped out of your car, flinging his black jacket over your shoulders and sliding your arms into it. It smelled like him and you buried your nose into the collar of jacket, closing your eyes and getting lost in the man's perfume mixed with aftershave. You were about to close the doors of the car when John cut you off,

"Don't close the doors, we won't be able to hear the music".

He was now behind you, towering over your smaller frame and your heart skipped the beat as you turned around to face him.

He slowly reached for your hips and without any hesitation or struggle, swayed you off your bare feet and lifted you up. You instinctively warped your arms around his neck smiling at him.

"You need to stop watching that many horror movies, they will rot your pretty brain"

He smiled at you with his eyes, looking down at your parted lips. Your face being right infront of his, possibly few inches away since he could feel your breath on his skin, and you could feel his. Blush creeped around your cheeks and he put you down on the hood of the car that was still warm from the engine. Your hands left his neck, but he still remained between your legs, not letting your hips just yet. You could've swore that his eyes were shining that night, you knew it was not possible, that your brain was seeing tings the way it wanted to, but you still chose to believe that impossible was possible in that moment.

His shadow that was casted due to headlights now moved, and with deep inhale his grip left your hips and you bit your lip. You felt disappointed and empty, you wanted him to lean in closer, you wanted to taste him and to seal the deal, but he moved away, hopping on the hood with ease, next to you, and leaning down on the windshield, one hand behind his head and other stretched out across the hood. He wiggled his eyebrows at you and slowly nodded towards his hand.

You pouted but soon enough curled against him, resting your head on his arm and softly gliding your hand over his chest, feeling his heart beat under your palm.

In response he softly put his fingers in your hair, massaging your head in circular moves.

"Look up lass, the sky is beautiful tonight. No clouds, just stars blinking and shining somewhere out there, far, far away. Haven't seen this in a while."

You listened to his words and followed his gaze up towards the sky. He was right, it was indeed beautiful. Dark blue mixed with dozen blinking lights looking back at you and him. Moon was nowhere to be found however. And then it struck you, the whole moment was inscribed into your memory- his soft breathing, the glitter in his eyes, the soft music that was playing from inside the car, the murmur of water somewhere in the distance, the ruffle of the leaves and grass that were moved by soft breeze and your eyes watered a bit, you really wanted to live in this moment forever, to lie on his arm forever and to gaze at the same stars forever.

John noticed the hard breathing next to him and faced you with soft smile "Dont cry lass, I more like you smiling, it suits you better. Can't say the same for those shoes.. Those didn't work for you that well eh?" you chucked through the tears and felt his thumb on your cheek as he wiped one stray tear.

"I just want to be here forever.. Like this. With you next to me. If I had one chance to freeze the time it would be right now, right here with you so I could look at your eyes filled with thousand stars forever, counting them slowly one by one, never getting bored of you." the girl said softly pulling herself closer to him. John smiled and kissed her hair softly.

"Funny how you are telling me the words I should be telling you bonnie. Maybe this is just a dream eh? Maybe we will wake up from it feeling empty..I know that I will miss you when I am gone.. Now, tell me who broke your heart?"

John said with whisper, still gazing up at the stars, slowly closing his eyes.

"Life did. But its nothing you can't fix.." you said quietly, blushing and looking up at him. He opened the eyes and looked back at you, his eyes trailing every line of your face, trying to remember all the features of it as he leaned in and slowly kissed your forehead.

"Dance with me?" He asked and you smiled up at him.

"I dont have any shoes on." you replied as with one swift move he pulled you off the car .

"That is nothing I can't fix." he smirked a bit and lifted you up from the car, telling you to stand on his shoes.

"John no, I am heavy." you chuckled as his hands held you close to him, his hands under his jacket, one placed on small of your back and one firmly held your hip, your feet now on his shoes, and he started moving slowly in tune of "Gloria" by Midnight that was on radio station at the moment.

"Bollocks, you are light as a feather, I can't even feel you. Do you even eat something or you just drink every day?" He joked and you laughed, throwing your hands over his head, locking them behind his neck.

"Captain Mactavish, stop teasing me and kiss me. I demand that action." you ran your hand over back of his head, feeling the tingles on your palm from his fresh shaven hair cut.

He looked down at you, lingering his eyes on your lips that were smirking a bit, slowly closing distance between the two, teasingly.

He pressed his cold lips on yours and you closed your eyes, wanting to remember every single moment and every move he made.

He slowly moved his hand up and down your back, inviting you to deepen the kiss which you accepted. He kissed you slowly, with passion with every move. He was spilling all of his emotions right then and there, he held you like was afraid that you will disappear from his arms, like he wouldn't be able to touch you or feel you. Your heart feel heavy, and you swore he could hear it since it was crashing against your ribcage. 

John slowly parted with your lips, looking into your eyes, his forehead resting on yours,

"After I am done with next mission, I will steal you and take you away so we can count all of the starts together, alright?" He asked and you nodded in approval slowly.

"Promise you wont forget?" You blinked up at him and he softly leaned in and kissed your lips again, kiss that was assuring and warm.

"I will be back in two days, wait for me here and be ready for a trip.", he softly brushed his nose on yours and you smiled wide at him, the universe was on your side, fate was on your side. It gifted him to you, to keep him and to cherish him, that whole night was like a fever dream, it almost didn't feel real- but it was. He was there and you were with him, swaying to the music slowly, kissing and feeling each other praying that sun wont come up just yet..

In two days you were at the same spot, your truck filled with all your stuff you needed.

You paced around the car excited, wanting to have his arms around you again, wanting to kiss him again... But he never showed up.

You never saw him again. You visited the bar often, you went to the house where you left his friend that night but the house was not there, it was demolished not long ago.

John disappeared without the trace, just the way he came into your life, unnoticed.

You never heard from him again. It was like that whole night was just a distant dream you had, and you would believe it if it wasn't for his jacket that was in your closet, his smell still lingering on it.

Years have passed, you never quite moved on, settling for a man who was nothing like John, but he cared for you, he really did.

Treating you right, bringing you flowers for every 14th of February, never forgetting anniversary or your birthday.

He didn't have stars in his eyes, he never took you to that place, never made you fall in love with him in bare hours, but he was enough. You had a nice house in nice neighbourhood and you lived a nice life with him.

You were at kitchen, preparing a lunch for your husband and you, when you heard a bell ring of your doors. You swiftly cleaned your hands and rushed to open the door.

"Yes?" You said as handle turned and the door opened.

Man who you never met before stood before you. He had small blue eyes, his beard was a bit weird but it suited him nice. He had a brown hair, and looked like life never treated him with ease.

"Can I help you sir?" You questioned the stranger and he nodded affirmative

"You are a hard one to find (y/n). Took me long enough.. Name's John Price, I have something for you.", he said and pulled white small envelope from his pocket handing it to you

"What is this sir? How do you know my name?" He smiled sadly at you and turned around being ready to leave when he stopped in his tracks, not facing you still.

"I am sorry. Wish I did more." .

He said and you were more confused than ever, you watched as man left your property and you closed the door, looking at the envelope that was in your hand. It was a bit heavy, but only on one side of it.

You rushed to the living room, where you sat down and opened it.

Dog tags fell out from them, they were cleaned recently, but the rust on them was noticeable still.

"John Mactavish"

ARMY

Some numbers and rest were scribbled from them.

Your heart dropped and your lips parted, eyes already filled with tears that slowly left your eye, falling down your cheek.

In the envelope was also a paper, it had blood stains on it. You tried wiping your eyes and reading it.

"I want to invite you for a walk,

To a quiet place; In the moor.

When the breeze sings midnight,

One if those nights- the moon is full.

A restless pounding invades in my heart,

When I think of my confidants-

The stars.

If they could only speak ,

What would they say?

If you could hear them talk.

For they know of my fondness for you,

And that in my thoughts

There is no other one.

If only the stars could speak

They will tell you that I love you,

They would ask you,

To love me back."

You hugged the peace of paper like it was John himself and let your tears fall freely whispering to yourself and to the paper like he could hear you, like he was the one in your arms instead of this bloody peace of paper.

“I do love you John.. I never stopped.”.

A soothing closure fell over you. Now he was the star somewhere up in the sky, looking over at you every night you faced the sky, waiting for you to join him one day.

[chim-chimchii]

Encaptured (Jungkook)

Genre: Fluff 

Note: A little fuckboy Jungkook for you all! I’m currently working on a social media au and I might just post the profiles so I can give you guys a sneak peek and to also motivate myself to work on it more! Let me know what you guys think! I also didn’t know how to end this so I apologize if it’s a crappy ending. 

. . . . . . . 

On Thursdays, the literary class met in the college library, and that was when Jungkook always had you look over his essays. Not only did he use that time to get his papers edited, but he also took this time to prod you about your weekend plans.

"So, are you going to accept my offer to take you to the movies this weekend?" Jungkook asked, resting his chin on his palm.

You glanced up from his essay. "Hm, not this week. I think I'm all booked." With a smirk directed towards him, you continued marking his paper.

"You said that last week." He mumbled with a playful pout.

"And last week, when I rejected you, you ended up taking that girl from your math class." You stated with a challenging stare.

Tongue in cheek, Jungkook chuckled, "Well, I couldn't let those tickets go to waste! I thought for sure you would have agreed." He continued trying to justify his playboy ways.

You scoffed and slid his paper over to him; red pen marks were scattered all over it. You thought that the edits you made to his essay would distract him from the current topic, but he pushed the assignment to the side.

"Y/n, when will you let me take you on a date?" Jungkook leaned in ever so slightly and smiled sweetly.

Your heart rate increased. His whole appearance changed with that one smile, and it was hard for you to hide the fact that it made you feel some way. Maybe it was time to give him a chance, and if it didn't work out, then he would finally stop bugging you.

"Okay." You finally answered after thinking it through. That one word took Jungkook by surprise.

"Okay? Are you saying, yes?"

Without making eye contact, you nodded and closed your notebook with a gentle smile.

"I'll pick you up at seven." Jungkook bit his lip to hide his smile and watched you leave the library.

. . . . 

The sun was setting, and seven o clock was right around the corner. You gave yourself one last look in the mirror that hung by the door and nodded in approval of your outfit. You tried to remember the last time you got all dressed up for a date, and as you tried to place a moment, there was a knock at the door. 

As you reached for the door, you hesitated. What if this was a one-time thing? What if he never spoke to you after tonight? Just because you turned his offers for a date down multiple times, it wasn't as if you didn't like Jungkook. You appreciated his presence in your boring literary class; you appreciated his jokes and stories. What if all he wanted was to add you to the list of girls he won over with his charms? 

Your thoughts were interrupted again by a knock, but this time it was a lot softer. You took a deep breath and twisted the doorknob. Whatever his intentions were, you decided to accept this date, so you had to deal with the consequences. 

Jungkook stood in the doorway with his hands buried in his pockets. His head was hung low as if he was half expecting you not to answer, but when you opened the door wider, he looked up. 

You forgot to breathe upon seeing him. Instead of the cliche leather jacket he always wore, he wore a grey flannel over a white shirt. It wasn't THAT different from what he always wore but seeing him wear light-colored clothing suits him well. His demeanor was different, as well. A timid smile replaced the cocky smirk he always had on his face. 

"Are you ready?" His voice came out lighter than usual; it took you a moment to remember this was Jungkook and not someone else. 

"Yeah, let me just grab my bad." You left him by the door as you dashed back to your room to grab your purse. 

. . . . 

It was the little things that Jungkook did that made you weak in the knees. As the two of you walked to the theater, Jungkook rested his hand on the small of your back. He maneuvered you to the other side of him; it wasn't until his warmth left that you realized he was making sure you were closest to the buildings and away from the busy street.

Your eyes fixated on him, and it felt like the world was in slow motion, and you saw Junkook in a new light. You wanted nothing more, but to have this moment last forever. Forever didn't come because he glanced at you with that beautiful smile of his.

"Would you be upset if I told you I don't want to go to the movies anymore?"

The world resumed at its original speed, and your excitement disappeared.

"Oh? Did you want to take a rain check or something?" You tried not to sound too disappointed.

"No, no. I just don't think I can handle sitting next to you for two and a half hours and not talk to you."

You sighed in relief, which made Jungkook chuckle.

"I don't know what you've been told or what you heard about me, but I'm not cruel.

You raised your eyebrow at him and smirked. "I don't know, I've heard some pretty interesting things about you, Jungkook."

You gave him one last teasing look before walking ahead of him. Jungkook tsked before jogging to catch up to you.

"So, are you going to tell me what you heard so I can prove those accusations wrong?"

Together you waded through the crowded street, careful not to lost one another. If he took your hand, would you pull away or let him have that small victory?

"You haven't said what we're going to do now that we're not going to the movies."

His hand grazed yours. "You're changing the topic."

Seconds later, his hand rested on your shoulder to guide you towards the entrance of an arcade. It was full of other couples, groups of friends, and people wanting to have fun. The atmosphere brought a smile to your face. You didn't even realize Jungkook had left until he returned with a bag full of tokens.

"I'll let you choose the first game."

Dramatically, you rested your hand on your heart. "What a gentleman."

Jungkook threw his head back in defeat. "Whoever told you that I wasn't a gentleman needs to stop feeding you lies."

"I'm sorry to tell you this, but you don't really have the best reputation." You explained as you made your way over to the basketball game.

You glanced back at him to make sure he was following and found him chewing on his lip. Your statement bothered him. The two of you exchanged no other words until he was standing next to you.

"Is that why you always rejected me?" His eyes locked with yours, and you didn't dare look away.

Rather than lying, you nodded. "Yeah."

Jungkook was the one to break eye contact; it was clear he was upset. He fished for a token and inserted it into the machine to start the game.

As you watched him, you inhaled deeply and thought about everything. You didn't want to be the reason the date ended in ruins. You were honest about why you declined his offers, but now that you were here with him, you kept thinking how different things could have been if you had just agreed to date him the first time he asked.

Without thinking further, when Jungkook reached for another ball, you took it from him and aimed for the moving hoop.

"You can't blame me for being scared."

Jungkook opened his mouth to say something but stopped as he watched you throw the ball straight into the hoop. Another ball rolled towards you, but Jungkook grabbed it before you could.

"I wasn't blaming you. I was blaming myself." He missed the hoop and ticked his head to the side, slightly annoyed that he didn't score, but as the game ended, he had one of the highest scores.

Together you moved in the direction of another game.

"Why are you blaming yourself?"

He didn't say anything, and you were afraid he didn't hear you due to the increasing volume of everyone around you.

"Because I got careless with relationships and dating, and now that I want something serious, my reputation is ruining my chances.

The corners of your mouth twitched into a tiny smile. "It's your turn to pick a game."

You weren't ignoring what he had said; you just wanted to think about it for a moment longer.

The two of you wandered around the arcade and tried not to lose each other with the growing amount of people entering the building. Jungkook stopped in front of a photo booth and let out a small laugh.

"It isn't a game, but it seems like this is the only thing unoccupied." 

"I think it'll be fun!" You linked his arm with yours and entered the small booth. 

Jungkook sat silently next to you as you messed around with the photo settings. As you sat back, your shoulder brushed against his, and it made it obvious how close the two of you were. You couldn't help but think back to his previous comment about wanting to be in a serious relationship.  Did he mean that he wanted to try and be in a serious relationship with you? You'd be lying if you said you didn't have feelings for him. The truth was, you had liked him all along, but you let the rumors about him cloud your judgment of his character. 

The beeping of the timer caused you to snap out of your thoughts. 

"Are you ready?" You glanced over at Jungkook, and to your surprise, he was already staring at you. The flash went off, signaling that the first picture was taken. Then the timer reset. 

"Your chances aren't completely ruined, by the way." 

The two of you looked away and to the camera, where you opted for a funny face. The camera went off. 

"What do you mean?" Jungkook turned to you again. 

"If you were this version of yourself all the time, you wouldn't have any trouble getting into a serious relationship, and any girl would be happy to be with you."  

You stuck your tongue out at him as the camera snapped another picture. 

"I don't want just any girl though--" He faced forward and held up a peace sign. "--I want you." 

Your expression changed in an instant, and it was captured as the shutter sounded. "Jungkook." 

He hesitated but looked your way as the last seconds of the timer counted down. You took his face into your hands and pressed your lips to his. The moment captured forever as the final flash of the camera washed over the two of you. 

[axoxtxhxh]

Not Without Trying - Chapter 2

ReinerxFem! Reader

Warnings: Sex, taking virginity, oral (F receiving)

Word Count: ~4,000

Summary: This comes after the chapter Rain which was the first one of this story. I sort of skipped around a lot. You have to imagine this is about a month after Rain happened where Reiner and the reader had a little time to get closer.

A/N: I wrote this a while ago and am going back over it now to edit and post and I basically cringed the whole time. I don’t think I’m that much better now, but I’m definitely better and I did my best not to edit too much because I honestly want to be reminded of my progress. Anyway, that’s all.

There were good days being a part of the survey corps and then there were really good days. Today was one of the really good days. A mission completed perfectly, no casualties and no missions lined up meant they actually had a weekend. Y/N’s favorite way to celebrate was with drinking and dancing. She loved letting loose and spending time with friends and it feels like the last few months were mission after mission. Finally, a day off to have fun.

The band started playing just after dinner. Nearly everyone started dancing around the mess hall. Everyone was drinking and having fun. Most of the younger cadets were making fools of themselves, but some of the upper ranks were dancing and having fun as well. Y/N was one of the few captains who was dancing. Mike had grabbed her hand at the beginning of the night and she spent most of the time dancing around the room with him causing a number of the other men in the room to grumble wondering when their turn was. One of those men being Reiner. He continued sipping his beer watching Mike laughing and holding Y/N’s waist as he twirled her around the room.

“She dances better without you suffocating her,” he grumbled to himself.

“What’s that?” Connie asked him, laughing while he watched Jean and Eren fight over who was dancing better. Reiner just hugged his beer a little closer, continuing to watch Y/N.

After the eighth song of dancing with Mike, Y/N finally got away and sat down with Reiner. She convinced Mike to go get her a drink and he ran off.

“How’s your night? You look grumpy.” She sat down next to Reiner.

“I’m not grumpy.” He lied.

“Okay.” She mocked his grumpy tone. “You should be having fun! We never get to do this. They even hired a band!” They both looked at the front of the mess hall where they were playing. She watched Reiner take another sip of his beer, his eyebrows lowered. “You’re so annoying!” She stood up, grabbing his arm.

“What are you—” He was yanked out of his seat.

“Let’s dance!” Y/N dragged him over to an open spot and started twirling around him. He spun around trying to follow her, a smiling growing on his face. He caught her mid twirl and dipped her backwards, Y/N laughed at the surprise. They were able to dance for another minute before Mike returned with her drink and took her away. Reiner stood there sulking.

“I have to piss.” He needed to get away and started towards the door.

“Hey dumbass,” Levi called after him, “the bathrooms are upstairs.”

“I need some fresh air, I’ll just use a bush out here.”

“Take someone with you, you’re drunk.” Erwin said.

“I’ll go!” Y/N hopped off her spot on the table, leaving Mike behind, pouting. Stepping outside, the cold air felt so good on her hot skin. She searched for Reiner, but he wasn’t anywhere she could see.

“Reiner?” She called out, peeking around the side of the building. Vacant. She made her way behind the empty carriage. “You better not have gotten lost,” she mumbled. She slowly approached the bushes behind the carriage.

That’s when Reiner seized the opportunity and popped up from behind the bush and shouted, “Boo!” Y/N’s hands flew up and she hit him in the nose. “Fuck!” He groaned, holding his nose.

“Reiner!” She put her hand on his hand covering his nose trying to alleviate the pain this way somehow, moving him over so they could sit on the back of the carriage they were near.

“I thought you were drinking,” he complained, checking his nose for blood. “How do you even have the speed to move so fast?”

“Years of practice.” She smiled. “I’m sorry, does it hurt?”

He moved his mouth around trying to bend and turn his nose. Y/N started laughing at the faces he was making.

“What?” Reiner asked confused. She laughed even harder.

“Your…face…” she was leaning back holding her stomach cackling and Reiner started smiling at her. Unable to resist touching her, he bent forward towards her and started tickling her side inciting an even bigger laugh from her. “I’m going to pee!” She was squirming around on her back, Reiner following her with his hands, still tickling her waist. She caught her breath enough to use her knee to push him forward, launching him forward on top of her. They both continued laughing, slowly letting it die down, loving each other’s company.

Y/N let out one final sigh, smiling over the whole thing and looked up at Reiner, still on top of her. He was also smiling. He looked into Y/N’s eyes. They were half-closed from drinking, but that glimmer in her eyes was always there. A loose hair was pulled from her bun, falling over her face. Reiner reached his hand up and tucked it behind her ear, then smoothed out her hair. She smiled at him.

Maybe on a different day or a different time. Maybe if Reiner hadn’t been drinking. Maybe if they never spent that time in cabin together. Maybe if her body wasn’t radiating warmth that he could feel through his jacket. Maybe if her breath didn’t smell so sweet and her smile wasn’t so inviting. There were so many maybes. So many maybes that maybe could have stopped him from doing it, but all he knew is he wanted her. Using the same hand he used to smooth her hair, he rested it on her cheek. Not really sure exactly how this was supposed to go, he leaned forward and kissed her.

The kiss was unlike anything he had ever felt before. So warm, so soft, he tried moving his lips around a little bit. Y/N did the same. He moved his hands from her face down to her waist and Y/N brought her arms around his neck. She let out a moan into his mouth and Reiner got chills. The kiss became more passionate, deeper. Everything about it felt so good. Their lips were connected, but he could feel it all over his body. Y/N started to wrap her leg around Reiner and quickly woke up to what was happening.

“Oh my gosh…” She breathed out, pushing Reiner off of her. “We…”

“I’m sorry,” Reiner also breathing heavily, cheeks flushing a deep pink. “I’m sorry. I—I couldn’t stop myself.”

“It’s fine. It’s not like I was stopping you.” She sat up looking at him. He was on his knees, still looking at her, an innocent but pleading look in his eyes.

“Y/N?... Can we—” He cleared his throat. “Can we do it again?”

Her eyes widened. She was about to ask him why he would want a second drunken kiss when she realized. Her hand flew to her mouth, gasping. “Your first kiss.” Her eyes widened even more. “I was just…”

He smiled and shuffled closer to her.

“Why did you do that?” She was still so confused. “Why did you kiss me? You… Your first kiss.” She couldn’t understand. She sat up starting to move to get off the carriage. “Ughh, I feel like I ruined it. I’m sorry.”

“What?!—No!” Reiner followed her, hopping off and grabbing her hand, “I liked it!”

“Ugh, I drunk-kissed you and I’m not even that drunk.” Y/N brushed leaves off her jacket, unsure of where they even came from. “I need to lie down.” She started walking back inside, Reiner right behind her.

They opened the doors to the building and the band was still playing music, filling the mess hall. Everyone was still dancing and drinking. They were all caught up in watching Jean try to chug a full beer that no one noticed them walk through the room and up the stairs. The upstairs hallway was much quieter. Y/N opened the door to her office and continued through to her bedroom and Reiner froze, not going in.

“Can we just talk a bit?” He held her hand.

“Yeah. So, come in,” She said gesturing to the room. Reiner hesitantly walked in behind her. He stood against the wall as she sat on her bed. “What did you want to talk about?”

“I love you.” Both Reiner and Y/N gasped and stared at each other with wide eyes.

“You love me?”

“No, I didn’t mean that.” He looked around the room unsure of what he was trying to say. “I don’t know. Maybe I do.” He sat on the bed. “I guess I don’t know what it would feel like to be in love.”

“You’re confusing me.” She narrowed her eyes. “Are you telling me you have feelings for me or asking me what it feels like to be in love?”

“I guess I’m saying I don’t know, but if I do have feelings for you,” he started, “Is it bad?” She was thinking about it when he continued speaking. “Does it really bother you that you were my first kiss?”

She was about to answer when she realized she didn’t really know. Why was she so bothered by it? It’s not like she worried about it ruining their friendship because Reiner was already ready to do that. The part that bothered her the most was worrying it was bad. She barely knew what was happening when he kissed her. What if it was a really bad kiss? But why does that even bother her? She looked over at him, he was waiting for her response patiently. He was always so patient with her. She could be so annoying, but he always stuck around her. Her jokes weren’t even that funny, but he always laughed. She was often judgmental and came across as mean, but he was never offended.

She looked down at her hands. She cared about him, slowly coming to the realization that maybe it was more than she originally thought. She looked back up at him, still waiting patiently for her.

“Give me a second chance.” She finally spoke.

“You want me to forgive you?” He was confused. “But you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“No.” She smiled. “Give me a second chance at that kiss.”

Reiner’s face flushed a bright pink and he smiled shyly. Y/N moved a little closer to him.

“Right now?” He looked at her.

“Well, yeah. Do you want to wait?” She asked.

“No, no!” Reiner insisted. “Now is good.”

Y/N lifted her hand to his cheek to guide his face to hers. They both leaned in until their lips met. Again, those sparks that ran through his body the first time were there too. Was he supposed to want more of her? Was there ever a point where he would feel satisfied? Reiner’s hand quickly moved to her waist and he opened his mouth to allow their kiss to deepen. Y/N’s hand went around his neck and in his hair. His stomach did flips and he let out a sigh, his second hand going to her lower back. He slowly turned her body, lowering her back to the bed, him hovering over her.

Was this love? He felt like he could stay like this forever, his lips on hers, breathing each other in. Everything was perfect.

Y/N was the one to stop the kiss, breathless. She was about to speak, but realized there was nothing to say. Nothing to add to the moment which felt perfect to her. She ruffled Reiner’s hair and he smiled. He backed up and helped her sit up. Both of them still unsure of what to say.

Reiner couldn’t look away. He’d never experienced anything like this. He wanted to touch her, to always keep his hands on her. His eyes never getting tired of seeing her. Her smile, the glimmer in her eyes, her hands. He looked down at her hand in his, playing with her fingers. He looked back up at her noticing her hair tousled instead of its normally tight style.

“Why do you always tie your hair up?” He asked curiously.

“My hair?” She reached her hands up to touch it. “I don’t know. It’s just easier.”

“Can I see it loose?” He reached up to take out the tie, but she pushed his hand away.

“It takes a lot to keep it like this.” She laughed, “It’s easier if I do it.” She slowly removed the pins and ties. As soon as she removed the final pin, her hair fell down in waves. Full, [your hair color] tresses all the way down to her waist.

Oh yes, Reiner was in love. He stared at her, awe-struck and entirely enchanted by how beautiful she looked. He tried to speak, but only managed to say, “I…” He reached up and took a handful into his hands, brushing through it, enjoying the feeling of silk running between his fingers. He smiled at her, then brought his hand to her cheek and leaned in, kissing her. This kiss started out passionately and swiftly made its way to burning fire. Reiner was all over her, hands holding any part he thought she was okay with, his heart racing.

“Have sex with me.” He breathed, pulling away from the kiss and moving his lips to her jaw and neck.

“What?” Y/N tried separating from him, but his grip was too strong. “You just had your first kiss.” He loosened his grip and she stood up. “Don’t you want to… I don’t know, wait a little?”

His eyes were full of lust, pupils blown. “What for?” He held her hands in his, still sitting on the bed. He started kissing her wrists and arms.

“You just… because you’re so… but…” She couldn’t think of anything to say, watching his lips move over her skin.

He stood up, took off his jacket and pulled her in, kissing her cheek and jaw. “If you want me to stop, I will.” He moved to her neck now. “But don’t worry about me, I’m not a kid.”

She put her hand on the back of his neck, letting her eyes flutter closed with pleasure. That was enough for him to pick her up and move her back to the bed.

Reiner continued focusing on her neck and jawline while Y/N unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off. She had been wondering what this would feel like, ever since the cabin. She pushed Reiner up and he looked at her.

“Lay on your back,” she directed and he followed. She unbuttoned her jacket and threw it to the side then lifted the bottom of her shirt and pulled it over her head. She went to reach for the tank top, but Reiner put his hand to stop her.

“I’ll do this one.” He sat her down on the edge of the bed and lifted her tank top up, dropping it to the side. He then pulled off his shoes and kneeled down in front of Y/N to do the same for her. He lingered where he was, looking up at her, eyes half-lidded.

“What do you like?” She asked him, running her hands through his hair.

“What do you mean?” He mumbled, enjoying her touch.

“Like, what can I do for you?” She didn’t know how else to say it, but he wasn’t getting it. “Do you know what turns you on? Like what makes you feel good?”

“Hmm… watching you enjoy yourself,” He said with a smile. She rolled her eyes.

“I’ll just figure it out myself.” She pulled him up and leaned backwards. He was back at her neck. She rolled over so she was on top of him, straddling his hips. He lifted his upper body to meet hers and kissed her.

“Show me how to take that off of you.” He pointed at her bra. She took his hands and moved them to her back. He followed her hand motions until her bra came undone and he pulled it off of her. He buried his face in her chest and just held it there for a while before he started using his mouth on every inch of skin within his grasp. He reached her nipple and covered it with his mouth, licking and sucking. Y/N shuddered and her head fell back.

Reiner noticed and watched her. He moved on to the other nipple, hoping to get another response. Instead she pulled his head back and brought her lips to his. She sucked on his bottom lip and bit down lightly, running her tongue over it then moving to his upper lip. Reiner kept his hands on her back, pulling her close, loving the soft warm feeling her breasts left on his chest.

She pushed him back and leaned over, kissing his neck. Reiner let out a jagged breath. She pushed her butt down and rubbed against his groin. He grabbed her back and thigh, groaning. She continued grinding her hips against his, causing the occasional moan to escape him. He moved his hand from her back and held onto one of her breasts, squeezing and moving it around his hand causing her hips to start bucking.

She quickly got off of him, breathing heavily. Reiner watched as she sat next to him.

“I’m sorry,” she spoke quietly. “I’m trying to go slow, but this feels so good.” She laid back on the bed, unbuckling her pants. Reiner helped her slide them off. She reached up and grabbed the edge of the bed from above her. “Please don’t stop touching me.” She begged and Reiner was all over her. He made his way up to her lips again.

“Where do you want me to touch you?” He asked, looking for guidance. She pulled off her underwear and opened her legs, steering Reiner’s hand to where she needed him the most. He wasn’t sure exactly what she wanted, but the moment his hand was near her warmth, she was moaning. He used his first two fingers to move around and immediately felt how wet and slippery she was. He wished he could just bury his face into her. For now, he continued moving around, sliding his hand forward. Her hips twitched. He slid his fingers around that area again and she pulled him closer, breath shaking. Continuing on, he moved his fingers lower. Y/N grabbed his hand, stopping him.

“Go back.” She laid her head back as Reiner did what she said. Gripping the sheets, Y/N was a moaning mess, so close to her release. How long had it been that she was this desperate, bucking her hips at his slightest touch? For not knowing what he was doing, he was doing a really good job. He sped up and leaned into the crook of her neck, finding any patch of skin he could find, leaving a mark. This sent Y/N over the edge, arching her back and breathing out his name until she could catch her breath.

As soon as her high died down, she reached her arms around his neck, pulling him in to kiss him. The kiss was a lot shorter than she expected as he sat up and made his way to the edge of the bed. He looked down at her legs, gently tracing his finger from her knee to her hip, then up around her waist. In one swift movement, he pulled her down to the edge of the bed where he kneeled in front of her, propping one of her legs over his shoulder, he began using his mouth to explore her warmth.

“Reiner! Wait!” Y/N attempted to stop him, but just as she did, his tongue made its way through her dewy folds and she was thrown back, moaning louder than before. Her grip on the sheets so tight she was worried she would rip them while her thighs closed around Reiner’s head.

Reiner couldn’t get enough, sucking at anything he could get his lips around. He wrapped his arms around her thigh, holding her hips to minimize the jerking. He hummed into her, she released one hand from the sheets to grab his hair, pushing him deeper. His nose rubbed her clit and she let out a strangled groan, unable to maintain the grip on his hair. At this point it didn’t matter. Reiner was rock hard, erection throbbing at every movement and noise that came from Y/N. He used his tongue to search and found the over-sensitive nub and focused all his attention on that, sucking, licking and moaning into her. Watching her move above him, his eyes rolled back as he drank her in. Hands squeezing her hips, he was barely able to control himself. His aching member was crying to be inside of her.

Y/N’s body was trembling. Muscles spasming out of her control as Reiner filled her body with euphoric pleasure. She called out his name as her orgasm rolled over her in hot waves, then stealing her breath, leaving every inch of her body juddering wildly. She lay there, unable to move as Reiner continued his work, slowing down. As her breathing slowed with him, he pulled away, holding onto her clit with his lips until finally he released it with a slick pop. Y/N mewled with one last hip twitch.

Reiner stood up, face flushed and breathing heavily, he looked down at Y/N.

“We need to get you out of those pants.” She breathed and sat up, kneeling on the bed in front of him. She started working at the buckles and he rested his hands on her shoulders. She slid his pants and underwear down and his member sprang free, red-hot and pulsating, precum rolling down the shaft. Y/N placed her hands at the tip and Reiner gasped, squeezing her shoulders.

“Y/N,” he begged, “I really just need to be inside you.” She moved him to sit on the bed and she straddled his hips, hovering. He kept his hands on her back and his forehead resting on her chest. She quickly lowered herself onto him, moaning as she felt him squeezed in so tightly. He groaned and held her closer to him. She worked her hips, getting into a motion as Reiner’s head lifted back, then leaned forward and left kisses on her neck and collarbone.

Reiner’s groans were turning into grunts and coming more frequently so Y/N picked up her pace, building her orgasm with him. His face was buried in her chest again, mouth and hand caressing her breasts. He took a nipple in his mouth and began rolling it around his tongue and teeth. Y/N’s head shot back, increasing the speed of her grinding while also increasing the strength and depth of her thrust.

“Fu—uck!” Reiner’s breath caught. He leaned back on his arm and lifted his hips up slightly, helping deepen the thrust even more. He could tell Y/N was mid orgasm at this point and he was also… just… about… there… His head flew back and his eyes opened wide, pupils dilated, fireworks going off in his brain while his body quivered, fueling the ecstasy. He wanted to moan, but nothing came out. He stayed frozen, mouth open, unable to move until he came back down from his high huffing and panting for air. Y/N crumpled onto him, completely spent, and he held onto her with his hand, mind still hazy.

Y/N sat up enough to lay back down on the bed, pulling Reiner to lay next to her. She nuzzled into his chest and wrapped her arm around his waist, then fell asleep.

He looked down at her, smiling. How was this captain of the survey corps able to steal his heart so easily? He covered them up with the blanket, kissed the top of her head, then fell asleep.

Taglist: @lainessia

[drmmyrs]

The Way I Loved You (Poppy x MC) Part 2

I want to make this a slow burn type of fic so I’ll just be giving crumbs for now 😅 I swear tho there’ll be more plot and action in the later parts.

tag list: @whackawriting @samanthadalton @crazzyplays @uselesslesbianfr @baexpoppy @alexroyard @alexlabhont @veenast @cloakanddaggerthings​ (If you wanna be added or removed or just prefer a certain ship just let me know ❤️)

Read Part 1

Word Count: 1700

Warning: none

"I'm sorry, Ms. Min-Sinclair, we only have one more room available for tonight."

Bea watched as the expression on Poppy's face went from horrified to anger. "Check again, please."

"I'm really sorry, but unfortunately, all our other rooms are already booked since we had several guests come in because of the storm," the receptionist said apologetically.

The look Poppy gave the receptionist must have been pretty damn scary, given that his hand was now visibly shaking.

Poppy's voice was beginning to rise. "Listen to me you–"

Bea clasped her hand around Poppy's wrist and dragged her away from the poor guy before she could make a scene. Kind and sweet Poppy was gone entirely. Instead, standing before her was the self-absorbed, shrieking harpy Bea very much knew and hated.

"Calm down, Poppy. The receptionist was just doing his job."

"Calm down?! There's not a chance in hell that I–"

"You know what? If you want to sleep outside in the storm, go ahead because I certainly won't be stopping you," Bea snapped.

Poppy was seething but didn't say anything else.

"I'll be in our room. Feel free to join me once you actually figure out how to act like an adult."

Without waiting for Poppy's response, Bea made her way to the receptionist to finish the transaction, all the while apologizing for Poppy's behavior. Once she got the key, she went straight to the room.

Bea had hoped there were two beds at least, but the way their luck was going, it only made sense that a single queen-sized bed stood at the center of the room. The room itself was average with bland white walls and a window with a city view that was currently shrouded by heavy rain and mist. It certainly wasn't nearly like her room back in Belvoire, but it wasn't like she had any other choice.

After setting down what little things Bea had brought with her–obviously not expecting to spend the night there, and definitely not with Poppy–Bea collapsed on the bed, exhausted. A few minutes later, the door opened, and Poppy walked in, evidently calmer than before. She stood near the doorway, scanning the entire room with a frown. Bea fully expected her to complain about, well, everything, but she just trodded to the side of the bed and glared at her.

"Move."

Bea moved obediently to the other side of the bed, too exhausted to argue. Poppy gracefully slid into bed and took her phone out.

"Stay at your side of the bed, and don't talk to me."

Bea frowned. "I didn't even–"

Poppy scowled at Bea, and Bea made the gesture of zipping her lips. The only sound that followed was the heavy downpour of rain that reverberated across the room. After an hour, Bea got up from bed and started to walk towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Poppy called out, almost sounding... worried.

Bea raised her eyebrow. "I'll come back if that's what you're worried about."

Poppy rolled her eyes, but Bea could see a slight flush on her cheeks. "As if. Get lost in the storm for all I care."

Bea laughed. "I'm just gonna check out the boutique I saw near the lobby. Don't really wanna sleep in these clothes." Bea hesitated. "Do you... want to come with?"

Without answering, Poppy rose from the bed and strode out of the room. Bea followed soon after, and for someone so short, Poppy sure walked incredibly fast that Bea had a hard time keeping up with her.

"Do you even know where it is?" Bea asked.

Probably realizing she didn't, Poppy slowed down until they were walking alongside each other. When they reached the boutique, Poppy immediately frowned in disgust at the clothing selection.

"Ugh, what even is this?" Poppy remarked, looking at a shirt with an unflattering shade of pink.

"Are you saying you can't pull that off?" Bea challenged.

"No, I'm saying that I have standards. Obviously, something you know nothing about." Poppy made her way through the selection, sneering all the while. "I'm not wearing these."

Bea rolled her eyes. "Get off your high horse. If you want to sleep in your sweaty clothes, at least do me a favor and not, like, sleep next to me."

Poppy let out a scornful laugh. "Oh sweety, I'll still smell better than whatever pigsty your perfume came from. But maybe... I'll just wear nothing then."

Despite herself, an image of Poppy naked sprung to Bea's head, sending heat all over her body. She slightly faced away from Poppy.

Noticing Bea's sudden silence, Poppy curiously looked at her. "My, my, Farmsville, don't tell me you're already imagining me naked," Poppy said with a smirk.

Mustering her most dismissive tone, Bea said, "Please, you're not even that hot." A blatant lie, of course. Poppy is a lot of things, and 'hot' is definitely one of those. Thankfully, Poppy moved on after seeing a dress that, Bea agreed, 'should be burned.'

After a painstakingly long search, Poppy was finally able to find something 'tolerable.' They made their purchases and went back to their room. When they arrived, Poppy was the first to get in the shower, and when she came out, she was wearing a tight-fitting tank top and bike shorts that hugged and accentuated all her curves. The room suddenly got so much hotter as Bea tried her absolute best not to stare at her, and even so, she knew it was a losing battle which is why she jumped to the shower the first chance she got. After showering, Bea realized that in her hurry, she forgot to take her clothes with her. She wrapped a towel and walked out to the bedroom to get her clothes. When her back was turned to Poppy, Bea glanced at a mirror nearby and was surprised to see Poppy staring at her with her mouth parted slightly. But when she casually turned around, Poppy had already averted her gaze.

Later that night, the storm got worse as thunders started to rumble outside. At first, Bea thought it was just a trick of the light, but after a few more claps of thunder, she could see Poppy flinch at every roar with her eyes clenched shut.

Is Poppy... actually scared of thunderstorms?  

As if to answer her question, Poppy started to heave heavily, with traces of sweat forming on her forehead. And as much as Bea despised Poppy–or at least that's what she kept telling herself–she actually felt sorry for her. And against her better judgment, Bea reluctantly placed her hand over Poppy's and gave it a soft squeeze. Poppy tensed for a moment at the gesture before she relaxed and gripped Bea's hand tighter. In response, Bea started tracing soothing circles on the back of her hand, and they fell asleep through the thunderstorm, hand-in-hand.

When Bea woke up, most of the storm had already passed, with light to moderate rain falling intermittently. She scanned the room and saw Poppy eating at the desk.

"Your food's getting cold," Poppy said without looking at her.

"You... got me food?"

"I figured since we didn't have dinner yesterday." Poppy turned to face Bea. "Why do you sound so surprised."

Bea furrowed her brows. "Because that's actually nice. And as far as I'm concerned, you're not."

"Well, I don't particularly care about you. And trust me, no one will be happier than me with you gone. But, unfortunately, I do have to keep you alive at least until after the party. Grades and all."

Bea got up and went to the desk to get her food. Poppy got her an English-style breakfast while she was eating... a teensy salad.

Poppy saw Bea looking at her food. "Did you also want a salad?"

"Uh, no. It just doesn't look... filling."

"It's not. But it's not like I have a choice. Their vegetarian selection is awful."

And just when Bea thought Poppy couldn't surprise her anymore.

"Wait, you're... vegetarian?" Bea asked in undisguised surprise.

"Yes." Poppy narrowed her eyes at Bea. "You know, you have to stop assuming you know everything about me. In fact, you know nothing about me."

"Yeah, I'm starting to get that."

Bea went back to bed and started to eat her food, her mind going back to the foster home, how Poppy's entire personality changed around the people there. Before, Bea was so convinced that she had Poppy pegged, just a basic bitch who thought too highly of herself with no regard for others at all. But Poppy was right; Bea barely knew her... and she wanted to know more.

"Why?" Bea turned to face Poppy. "Why are you a vegetarian, I mean. If you don't mind me asking."

Poppy made an annoyed expression. "I do mind, actually."

A grin spread on Bea's face. "Oh my god, you totally care about the animals."

When Poppy didn't respond, Bea continued. "First kids and now animals? My, my, Poppy, what will people say if they knew that their favorite she-devil is actually a big softie."

Poppy stopped eating and turned to give Bea a menacing glare. "If you tell anyone about this, you're dead."

After they finished eating, Bea and Poppy started planning for the party the next day. So naturally, more than a few shouts, insults, and curses were thrown around until they finally, finally, agreed on all the details. Since Poppy was the one with all the connections, she had to call for all the services needed. And when her trusty photographer told her he wasn't available, Poppy cursed in frustration.

"The party, it's not just about your GPA, is it. This is really important to you."

Poppy didn't answer and instead went back to make a few more phone calls.

When everything was settled, the storm had fully passed, and it was already safe to drive home. So imagine Bea's surprise when Poppy said that they were staying there for another night.

"I thought you hated this place."

"I do. But I'm not going to drive an hour home just to go back early tomorrow. Besides, we'll get things done much faster if we stay here."

Bea smiled. "Would you like some champagne?"

[hualianff]

Untethered (Bonus I) 《III》

In the Shadow of Ghosts — The Newton Brothers

Three years ago….

Tap. Tap.

Xie Lian thinks he imagines it at first. After all, it had been a long day of handling commoners’ affairs, entertaining visiting royalty, and carrying out other menial tasks that are required of him as a prince. Not that he minds too much. Xie Lian thoroughly enjoys helping whoever he can and making the kingdom a better place for his people.

But it is exhausting work, and takes both a mental and physical toll on Xie Lian. This is why more often than not, on busy days like this, he requests the servants to have a bath drawn right before he retires to his room for the night. The steaming hot water mixed with Xie Lian’s favorite-scented bath salts loosen his muscles wonderfully, as well as clear his senses.

In the dimly lit washroom, Xie Lian lets himself unwind. It’s a gradual process, one that his body initially rejects after being so wound up for hours on end. Xie Lian lathers a dollop of lavender oil along his waist-length hair, holding it above the water to let the oil properly soak in before rinsing it under the spout.

Simply put, Xie Lian chalks the strange noise up to his restless mind making him hear things that are not there. It wouldn’t be the first time it happened.

Besides, who in their right mind would dare break into a prince’s bedroom chambers, where royal guards surround the premise?

Tap.

At the dusk of twilight?

Tap!

Xie Lian is sure no one is crazy about him enough to scale the palace walls to the third level-

Tap.

-except for someone coming to assassinate him!?

Tap tap tap tap tap-

Okay, now that he didn’t imagine. That incessant tapping is very real.

“Goodness me-” Xie Lian mutters, dunking his head under the water in a lame attempt to hastily clean his hair. He then stumbles out of the tub to grab a gown, flinging it around his body to cover himself up.

Luckily, there are no windows in the washroom. The doors also remain shut, providing the prince with the utmost privacy during his bath times, but also serving as a protective barrier at this moment. However, the distinct tapping continues, clearly coming from the other side of the doors.

Against his better judgment, Xie Lian flattens himself against the wall next to the entrance and knocks back.

The tapping stops.

A muffled “Your Highness” follows in response.

Xie Lian’s stomach violently drops at the familiar drawl. It couldn’t be...

“Prince Xianle,” his tempter calls again.

Xie Lian quietly gasps.

The prince cautiously opens the doors leading into his bedroom. He spots a silhouetted figure standing outside on his balcony, and if the build and height were not a familiar sight, Xie Lian would certainly be freaking out more. By subconsciously wrapping the robe tighter around himself–Xie Lian realizes just how flimsy and inappropriate the garment is for others to set eyes on–and approaches the glass doors

He also realizes he does not care.

Xie Lian pulls aside the sheer, golden velvet curtains.

A lanky, strong-built man in dashing red attire greets him through the glass. Xie Lian’s eyes bulge impossibly wide, mouth parting in surprise.

Crimson Rain grins like the devil he is. He doesn’t say anything more, letting the devious look in his eye do the speaking. When the pirate captain lifts a palm to lay flat against the glass door’s surface, Xie Lian feels a growing urge to intertwine it with his own.

Xie Lian places his own palm on the opposite side of the glass. He knows how terrible of an idea it is to enable intruders onto palace grounds, to let Hua Cheng in and the detrimental repercussions awaiting if they were found out.

City of Stars – Yan Chaojie

Th-th-th-th-thump. Hua Cheng drums his fingers upon the glass, raising an expectant eyebrow. Xie Lian stubbornly shakes his head, making a cutting motion at his neck. The pirate seems to take this as a challenge. He can probably see how close Xie Lian is to giving in, just needs one last push to lure the prince in opening the doors to his chambers.

Hua Cheng frames both hands against the glass, blowing hot air in between, effectively fogging up the surface. He draws a massive heart in the condensation. Xie Lian fails to bite back his smile, yet another one of his actions Hua Cheng notices with a smug look.

The pirate proceeds to drag his finger through practiced strokes, writing backward so Xie Lian can read normally on his side. From where he observes, the concentration apparent on Hua Cheng’s face greatly amuses Xie Lian. The characters are still barely legible. Fortunately, Xie Lian has the experience in deciphering Crimson Rain’s infamous scrawl with the intermittent letters he receives.

谢怜 x 三郎

Xie Lian’s face twists in confusion. He immediately unlocks the glass doors, yanking them to the side.

“Who is San Lang?” Xie Lian demands with a pout, forgetting all about his current state of appearance. Hua Cheng smiles into his fist, then graciously enters Xie Lian’s bedroom.

“Another name I go by,” the pirate answers nonchalantly, sliding the door closed behind him. He towers over Xie Lian, dressed in his trademark black heeled-boots with silver chains, whereas Xie Lian’s feet are bare. Plus, Hua Cheng has only continued to grow since the first time they crossed past nearly two years ago. “Should the weather permit fog in the next few days and anyone happens to see, they will not be able to connect San Lang to me.”

“Hua Cheng, your fingerprints are all over the glass,” Xie Lian reminds in exasperation. Hua Cheng frowns when he is addressed, as if he had eaten something not to his liking. He seamlessly replaces it with a mischievous smirk.

“My fingerprints are not documented in the first place,” he says.

“Oh, I see.”

Pirates abide not by any kingdom’s rule but by the laws of the ocean.

Hua Cheng briefly turns to look back at the fading image of their names, his expression calculated but determined once he meets Xie Lian’s gaze again.

“I believe it would also be safest if you referred to me-” Hua Cheng points to the door. “-as such.”

“As what?”

“...”

“How should I call you?”

Hua Cheng narrows his brooding eye.

“Why ask when you already know the answer?”

“Just spit it out, Crimson Rain.” Xie Lian smiles cheekily.

“Your Highness, do not test me.”

Despite his threatening words, Hua Cheng’s posture is stiff, and can even be described as awkward. His arms have obediently remained by his side the entire time, keeping a respectful distance away from Xie Lian. The prince laughs out loud at how constipated Hua Cheng looks.

Without further adieu, Xie Lian throws himself at the taller man. He glomps onto Hua Cheng like a child grabbing onto a stuffed animal, straining his arms to grasp around the pirate’s broad shoulders.

“If San Lang ever wants a hug, he needs only to ask,” Xie Lian admonishes light-heartedly, squishing his cheek against Hua Cheng’s sternum. Hua Cheng chuckles happily, body finally relaxing into the embrace. He winds his arms around Xie Lian’s middle.

“Gege’s benevolence knows no bounds,” Hua Cheng murmurs tenderly. Xie Lian squeezes tighter around him, having no intentions of letting go soon. He missed his pirate dearly, after all. Three months apart had felt like three years. “This San Lang is gladly indebted to His Highness.”

Hua Cheng gently caresses Xie Lian’s head but pauses when he realizes how slippery the prince’s hair is. The pirate rolls the end of a strand between his fingers, droplets of water escaping the tips.

“Gege, did you recently wash?” he asks. Xie Lian shyly nods, containing his blush when Hua Cheng slightly pulls back to take in his satin gown.

“I was bathing when you arrived,” Xie Lian says. With some space between them, Xie Lan realizes with horror that his damp hair created a huge wet spot on the front of Hua Cheng’s robes.

Before he can apologize, Hua Cheng quickly ushers Xie Lian to sit on the cushioned stool in front of his vanity, muttering “please forgive this San Lang for his untimely intrusion” and “allow me to tend to gege’s hair as atonement for such despicable behavior.”

Xie Lian doesn’t know what to say. Hua Cheng’s submissive words render him speechless. It’s a stark contrast to the way Hua Cheng treated him in the beginning, when they were just rivals holding each other at swordpoint. Only in the last year have they been secretly meeting without the pretense of dueling, and even then, Xie Lian only sees Hua Cheng every few months, whenever the pirate happens to sail near Xianle Kingdom. It would be unfathomable for his past self to consider Crimson Rain anything less than a cunning, vicious pirate.

Now, Hua Cheng stands in the Prince of Xianle’s private chambers, offering to brush his hair.

Xie Lian stares wordlessly at Hua Cheng’s reflection. Hua Cheng’s earnest expression does not fade. How absurd it is that a captain of his own pirate ship would reduce himself to the duty of a simple palace servant. Though the thought often crosses his mind, Xie Lian hasn’t turned Hua Cheng in yet. It feels somewhat treasonous to excuse a pirate trespassing and sneaking around on Xianle territory.

Then again, Hua Cheng hasn’t stirred up trouble in public for one whole year. He merely comes back for Xie Lian. This notion alone makes Xie Lian giddy inside.

Xie Lian reaches for a lavishly jeweled comb, then presents it to Hua Cheng. The pirate accepts the comb with a grateful hum, then takes hold of Xie Lian’s wrist to press his lips to the top of his hand.

Xie Lian’s heart sings.

“Would gege be partial to sharing what a day in Prince Xianle’s life looks like?” Hua Cheng asks as he releases Xie Lian’s hand. He begins running the comb through the prince’s long, weighted locks, effortlessly detangling the lower ends. The sensations are heavenly.

“Only if San Lang tells me what a day in Crimson Rain’s life looks like after,” Xie Lian answers with a sluggish tongue. Through the mirror, he sees Hua Cheng smile in satisfaction. Xie Lian slowly closes his eyes as the continuous brushing motions to his hair send pleasant tingles down his spine.

“Whatever His Highness wishes.”

《Bonus II》

[professorsnape394]

The Potions Master’s Apprentice

Chapter Fifteen: Three Professors

A/N: This is the fifteenth part to my fanfiction ‘The Potions Master’s Apprentice (Severus Snape x OC)’. Chapters 1-16 can be found already uploaded on Wattpad under the same name. Feel free to leave requests in my inbox for anything Snape related you want me to write. Leave a comment below if you wish to be added to my tag list.

Pairing: Severus Snape x OC (Dumbledore’s Granddaughter)

Summary: A talented young witch is employed as an apprentice professor at Hogwarts, but who will she be working under? Severus Snape is not best pleased with his new responsibility of taking on an apprentice, however she is relentless to create a friendship between them. Will she be successful? Or might the friendship just go a little two far? With the eyes of her grandfather constantly watching over them, an attempt at a relationship might not be in the cards for Aria Dumbledore and Severus Snape.

Word Count: 2001

Warnings: n/a

Credits to Gif Creator

Within the week the gossiping from the weekend's events had almost completely died down. However, with Severus and Aria acting civil towards one another during lessons, and almost completely back to their old habits of spending the evening together a whole new set of rumours were threatening to begin.

Karkaroff had mostly backed off Aria's case on the Severus front. However, this did not mean he had any intention of stopping socialising with her any chance he got. Igor had become invested in the relationship of the two potions professors' and he would not stop until he had the answers he was looking for. He took to visiting her during the majority of her free periods, as well as some evenings after class, often convincing her to join him for a stroll around the castle grounds, where he sought to pry into her personal life, especially her relationship with the potions master. It didn't bother Aria too much to begin with, in fact, she liked the company, but as the week grew to an end, she had become suspicious of his true intentions.

Almost immediately as lessons came to an end on Friday evening, right on cue, came a knock at the door. Before the potions apprentice had a second to open her mouth, the door was already pushed ajar, revealing the sunken features of Igor Karkaroff.

"Hello Igor." Aria sighed, barely sparing him a second glance.

"Good afternoon, beautiful lady" Igor chirped, his accent almost thicker than usual. Aria rolled her eyes at the headmaster, but chuckled lightly to herself in amusement. "Are you free to join me on a leisurely stroll around the castle?" He queried, striding into the center of the room, taking a seat behind one of the student's desks.

"Are you mad, Igor? The rain hasn't stopped all day! Besides, Professor Snape set a load of essays last week, that I have the pleasure to mark. I don't think I would be much in the way of conversation today, I have too much to do." She confessed, attempted to dissuade him.

"Nevertheless, I shall keep you company. I do not have anywhere to be."

"Thank you." Aria grimaced, really just wanting to focus on getting her marking done.

"Speaking of Severus..." Karkaroff begun, once again distracting Miss Dumbledore from her work. "There have been rumours of the two of you circling the school." He stated, leaving the intention of his sentence free for Aria to interpret.

"I am very well aware, Igor." She huffed. "Though they have begun to fizzle out in the last few days, I am pleased to say." The witch continued scribbling.

"That is not what I am talking about." The man shook his head, though kept his gaze firmly on the professor in an interrogative manner.

Aria raised an eyebrow, but did not stop reading the length of parchment.

"It has been said in this past week that you have entered into a relationship with the potions master, is this true?"

"God Igor, I never thought you so naïve that you would believe that sort of rubbish." She sniggered, allowing him a smidge more of her attention. "Like I would ever go out with a man like that, you surely heard what he said to me last week, it is unforgivable." Aria scoffed. "Besides, you should know just as well as I that people love to talk, students especially. Haven't you heard the one about us? It's all a load of nonsense, don't listen to any of it."

"I was simply... curious." He shrugged. "I would not like to think a beautiful woman such as yourself had gone to waste, like you say Severus Snape is simply not worth your time. You deserve much more."

"Thank you, Igor, however I do not think this is an appropriate conversation to have between colleagues, let's keep it professional." Aria suggested, noticing that the headmaster had a tendency to sidetrack the conversation to her love life.

A minute or more passed while the pair sat in silence before another knock interrupted.

Assuming it to be a student, Aria rose from her desk and made her way to the door. "Severus." She gasped, not expecting him to respect her privacy, just as Karkaroff had not. "You knocked?... again." Aria's eyes widened, taking a step back as she came face to face with the potions master.

"Yes, well, while I am not overjoyed with the current arrangements, I at least respect your need for some privacy." Severus wavered at the door, his eyes flickering towards the young woman, before taking it upon himself to enter the room, stopping almost immediately upon spotting Igor.

"I see I was right to to announce myself." The two men shared a short but intense glare. "Igor. I see you've made yourself quite at home."

"Oh... umm, Professor Karkaroff had just stopped by for a chat while I finish up on some marking." Aria rushed to explain, knowing exactly where Snape's mind was heading. "What can I do for you, Severus?"

"I came to collect the essays I assigned last week, I did not think it fair to leave them all to you while I sat in my room twiddling my thumbs."

"That's very kind of you Severus. Would you care to join us, you look like you could use the company." Aria practically begged.

Severus considered her offer for a second, knowing that what he wanted least of all was to spend time with Igor Karkaroff. However, on the other hand, he also wasn't too keen on leaving the pair alone, unsure of what he might spill to his apprentice. In the end Snape's better judgment overcame his pride and so he proceeded to pull up a chair, separating the two already seated professors.

Severus set to aggressively scribbling notes in the margins of the students essays, the scratching of his quill on parchment dominating the room. A long while past with only this and the sounds of bubbling cauldrons occupying the professors' ears. The tension between the three thickened as time went on. All scared to speak in fear of the other's response.

Finally Igor chose to break the silence, bored of staring at the potion's professors quietly marking away in unison.

"It must be hard for you Severus." Igor tested the waters, waiting on a response.

"What are you hinting at, Igor? What exactly is hard for me?" Snape replied cautiously after a moment of deliberation.

"Well, a man like you; settled in his position, proud of his job, it must be hard knowing you'll be replaced by a must younger, much more attractive model." Karkaroff shifted position in his chair, becoming more comfortable, confident in his ability to undermine the Potions master once again.

"Despite what you may have hoped Igor, you are sorely mistaken. My job is under no threat. I was simply asked to take a short week's sabbatical, in light of the recent events, until all the commotion has died down. And that week is coming to an end." Snape turned his attention from the essays, lifting his quill from the paper, and placing it to the side.

"Yes, yes of course." Igor humoured him. His body language radiating arrogance. "But it must be worrying, knowing that your job is potentially threatened by Miss Dumbledore here. She has the same skills as you, the same knowledge, and what she doesn't know now she soon will once you've been foolish enough to teach it to her. It cannot be easy, being forced to train the woman who will inevitability replace you."

"I do not know what your game is Igor, but I assure you, Miss Dumbledore is no threat to me."

Aria's ears pricked up at the second mention of her name, her gaze shooting between the two men.

"I really don't think this is relevant boys, can't we talk about something else?" Aria nervously nibbled on the edge of her lower lip. She knew where this was going and she didn't have an answer for what was coming. She also knew how vicious these men could be when they really wanted to, and she did not want to be in the room when they both pushed the other too far.

"Oh come on, Aria, darling. It must have crossed your mind. You are younger after all, the students relate to you more, god knows it wouldn't be hard to like you more. Not to mention your lineage, it cannot be more clear who Albus would prefer to employ. His own flesh and blood? Or someone with Severus'... background?"

"Watch your mouth, Igor." Snape droned through gritted teeth and flared nostrils.

"My grandfather didn't bring me here to replace Severus. He's a great professor, and a fantastic friend to him. I would even go as far to say that he trusts Severus' with his life. I am simply an apprentice. A year's training, that's what we agreed." Aria beamed, convinced she had put out the fire, unaware to the fact Igor had just lit another spark right under Severus' feet.

"With his life, eh?" Igor chuckled to himself. "How very clever you have been, Severus."

Confused Aria simply took a step back in the conversation, finally coming to the understanding that none of this was really about her.

Aria could sense Snape was uncomfortable, his body tensed and he straightened his posture, gripping his quill for comfort.

"I think it is time for you to leave, Headmaster Karkaroff. Miss Dumbledore and I are working, and prefer not to be disturbed."

"I see your game, Severus. I always knew you were a smart man, but you have played this very well indeed. But I know you, and I might just be able to beat you at your own game, if you are not careful."

"What is he talking about Snape?" The young woman whispered, turning her full attention to her colleague.

"Goodbye, Igor." Karkaroff gladly took a stand, knowing, despite Snape's commanding tone, he had won this round.

Igor Karkaroff rounded the desk, gently lifting Aria Dumbledore's hand to his lips.

"Until, next time." He breathed, bowing his head to kiss her gently, before showing himself out. "Your past is calling you Severus, and Dumbledore is ready to replace you when you go running right back."

Snape immediately rose from his chair, Aria suspecting that he was ready to storm from the room.

"Fuck." Aria breathed, joining Snape in standing. "What the hell was all that about?"

"That is none of your concern." Snape snapped, beginning to pile his papers.

"Of course... of course, it isn't." Aria shook her head knowing it was a stupid thing to say. "I only meant... well, are you okay?" She couldn't think of anything else to say.

"While I appreciate your concern, Miss Dumbledore. I am not a child who needs consoling, nor do I need your pity. I am perfectly capable of handling the likes of Igor Karkaroff."

"Yes, of course, you are. I...I just-"

"Miss Dumbledore." Severus interjected, huffing though he didn't seem nearly as angry as Aria expected. He saw the woman quickly becoming flustered trying to think of the right thing to say so as not to displease him, this was not a rare occurrence. For once Severus' actually felt sorry for her and decided to cut her some slack. They had, after all, promised to become friends.

"I need you to calm down." Snape softly commanded, though quickly moved on. "While that encounter with Professor Karkaroff was less than pleasant, it is far from unfamiliar to me. Igor and I have a past. A past I would rather forget about, him, on the other hand, not so much. My advise to you is stay out of his way. I am under the impression he has his eye set on you."

"Why would he-"

"Goodnight, Miss Dumbledore." And with that Snape returned to his quarters for the evening, Aria's questions remaining unanswered.

What was Karkaroff up to that concerned her of all people?

Taglist:

@ayamenimthiriel​ @lizlil​

[jiejie-eonni-onee-sama]

Severed blood ties...

A gift for the dear @sergeant-donny-donowitz​

Hope you will​ enjoy the story...

France, 1945.

Tied to a chair, Hans Landa, the infamous "Jew Hunter," furiously glanced at his jailers. The enemies he vowed to bring down were the ones who finally defeated him. Those men who the German troops nicknamed "The Basterds" put an end to the Nazi regime, stopping the war in the process.

Holding his head up, he arrogantly said:

"May I guess that you're happy, Lieutenant Raine?"

"Ya bet I am! It's been a long time since I wanna catch ya! And here ya are!"

Landa has a rictus.

"You pretend to be a hero, but we both know that you are only a redneck murderer from Maynardville!"

"Lieutenant, do ya want me to make him shut up?" asked Donny as he held his prized baseball bat.

"It would be very distracting, indeed!" smirked Wicki as he lighted his cigarette.

"Na, not now, guys!" answered Raine.

The Apache turned to the Nazi and explained:

"To answer ya question, Hans, you don't stop a war without getting yer hands dirty, right? After all, you are an expert in this field..."

"Unlike you, I don't kill people..."

"Not directly. But every time you're somewhere, it's like a death sentence!"

"I return you the compliment, Lieutenant Raine!" snarled Landa.

Utivitch raised an eyebrow.

"Is it just me or Landa seem mad at us?"

"I share your impression, Private," stated Hicox.

Stiglitz glared at their prisoner with all the hate he had. For the deserter of the S.S, Landa was the epitome of what he loathed the most.

"Why can't we kill him on the spot?" he growled.

"The orders are the orders, Hugo: the general staff wants him alive," answered Omar.

"What a shame!" scoffed Hirschberg.

"Anyway! Now, I would like to know why he seems pissed!" asked Sakowitz.

"Don't bother! He would never tell us..." scoffed Zimmerman.

"Okay, who dared drink his beer?" jokingly asked Kagan, making his comrades laugh.

However, this joke pissed off Hans, who snapped:

"You EXACTLY know what you've done!"

All the Basters stayed silent, surprised by Landa's outburst.

Wicki replied:

"Apart from screwing your plans up and killing your men, I really don't see what you are talking about..."

"Killing! What an appropriate word for your biggest crime against me, Private Wicki."

Annoyed, Donny roared:

"WHADDYA TELL US WHAT WE HAVE DONE, PRECISELY?"

"Calm down, Donny, calm down!" said Omar.

"Okay, Landa... What pisses you off right now?"

The S.S officer found his calm composure and asked:

"Do you remember Captain (Y/N) (L/N)?"

"Captain (Y/N) (L/N)... It rings a bell to me..." muttered Utivitch.

"This guy was one of the youngest captains of the Wehrmacht. A lot of people said he was a brilliant officer and a capable leader," explained Hugo.

"Sergeant Stiglitz is right. According to MI6 files, the young Captain (L/N) quickly rose to the top. He excelled both at his exams and at his missions. Even the Führer held him up as an example..." added Hicox.

"I got it! Was it not the guy we met in Italy during our mission over there, two years ago?" inquired Zimmermann.

"That's right! It was the young Kraut captain who fought us near Milan! Hell, we struggled to save our skins!" exclaimed Sakowitz.

"A brave boy, I admit. Crazy, but brave." nodded Raine.

"Tell me if I am wrong, Landa, but you hold a grudge against us because of this boy?" asked Wicki.

"Why? Because he was your boyfriend?" snickered Hugo.

"HE WAS MY SON!" exploded Landa.

When they heard that, all the Basterds screamed:

"WHAAAAAAT?"

"(Y/N) (L/N) was ya boy?" asked Raine.

Fuming with rage, the Jew Hunter sighed:

"Yes, he was. (Y/N) was my only child."

"But you don't share the same last name." pointed out Sakowitz.

"He took his mother's name when he entered the army to avoid any accusation of nepotism."

"Okay... So, all you have done against us until now... was only to avenge your boy?" inquired Omar.

"Your judgment is remarkable, Private Ulmer!" said ironically Landa.

"Don't be a smartass, Landa! Maybe the general staff wants you alive, but we can have fun until we arrive in the United States!" snapped Stiglitz.

"Would you dare wound a defenseless opponent, Sergeant? I know it is your modus operandi, but still..."

"If I were you, I would keep my mouth shut. Because my dear friend Donny here would like to bash your skull like a baseball!"

"Ya bet I do!"

"Calm down, boys!"

Suddenly, Landa heard a door opening behind him and a young masculine voice saying:

"My apologizes for being late, Lieutenant Raine."

"Don't worry, boy. We just chat with our guest."

Puzzled, Landa asked:

"Who is it?"

Smirking, Hicox replied:

"In your defense, Landa, you could not know our dear friend here. He prefers working in the shadows... Such a humble boy!"

"I am flattered by your compliment, Lieutenant Hicox." replied the newcomer.

Trying to see who is talking, Hans scoffed:

"And why is he here? Is he going to torture me too?"

Much to his surprise, the newcomer replied in perfect German:

"Nein, dafür bin ich nicht hier. Es wäre Zeitverschwendung!" (No,  that's not what I am here for. It would be a waste of time!)

Impressed, Landa replied with a smirk on his lips:

"Du sprichst Deutsch wie ein Einheimischer..." (You speak German like a local...)

"Das liegt daran, dass ich in Österreich geboren wurde." (That's because I was born in Austria) replied the mysterious young man as he walked to Landa.

This voice sounded familiar to Landa, but he cannot tell where he did hear it. But this accent... He was sure he heard it before!

"Wer bist du?" (Who are you?)

"Du weißt wer ich bin ... Vater." (You know who I am ... father.) replied the young man as he sat in front of Landa.

When he saw the face of the person he was speaking to, the Jew Hunter nearly had a heart attack.

"(Y/N)..."

"Himself, father." replied the young man with a smirk on his lips.

The S.S colonel could not believe it: his flesh and blood was alive! A wave of relief went through his body. But he cannot help but wonder how (Y/N) managed to survive at the hands of the Americans.

Stammering, Hans asked:

"But... But you died! The survivors of your detachment told me that you get killed by Lieutenant Raine!"

"They thought Lieutenant Raine killed me. But the truth is... I faked my death!"

"WHAT?"

Landa could not believe his ears: his son dared betray the army he swore to serve!

"But... How could you do such a crime?"

"Let me return you the question, father. How could you sleep at night while knowing that you send innocent people to their death?"

"That's not the question! You betrayed your army, you dishonored our name..."

The loud slap on his face made him shut up. When he looked at his son's face, he saw a wave of boiling anger in his eyes.

"You thought that I dishonored our name? But look at you: you paraded with this stupid uniform until you crawl in front of the Americans for saving your skin."

"Do not talk about crawling in front of the Americans, boy! You did not act better than I do!"

(Y/N) looked at his father with disdain.

"Maybe. But at least, I redeemed myself by helping the Allies. Did not ask yourself how the Basterds manage to outsmart you?"

Hand stared in amazement as he realized.

"YOU WERE THE MOLE?"

"Bingo, dad. Unfortunately, your loyal lapdog named Hellstrom knew something was wrong and was not far from discovering the truth. It was at this moment I planned to fake my death... with the help of my new friends, of course!" explained the young man while gesturing at the Basterds.

Hans fumed with rage: he hated being outsmarted. But the betrayal of his son was the last straw!

"I can't believe you even dare betray me, your father!"

The icy glare of (Y/N) sent a chill down his spine.

"You're right: you're my father, but only for blood. The fact is you never loved me. You belittled me, pushed me away... All because you wanted me to be your carbon copy. I tried to be the son you wanted me to be, but nothing was enough for the great Hans Landa."

Every word (Y/N) was full of hate and pain, and they hit Landa like a punch.

"But I must admit that you were a great teacher. I've learned a lot from you. Thanks to you, I have learned to speak different languages. With this skill, I can exchange pieces of information with various interlocutors. 

Thanks to you, I mastered the art of deception. Do you want an example? While I gave the pitch of the perfect little Nazi, I helped many Jews escaping from you."

The young man smirked like a predator.

"I have acquired so much from you that I was able to foresee all your comings and goings."

Trying to keep his composure, Hans retorted:

"And you came here just to say that?"

(Y/N) burst into laughter.

"No, dear father... I am here also to say goodbye!"

"Goodbye?"

His son nodded.

"Yes, indeed. Because this touching meeting is our last!"

"What does it mean?"

"The general staff allowed me to see you one last time before your trial... and your move to Nantucket Island. After that, you will never see me again."

(Y/N) shrugged.

"After all, you're not supposed to see me, as I am officially dead!"

He got up and said:

"Now, if you excuse me, Colonel Landa, I have some work to do before we depart for the United States. Enjoy your stay in France!"

(Y/N) went to the exit, followed by the Basterds.

Losing his temper, Hans yelled at him:

"Sure, go away! Anyhow, I have no son!"

(Y/N) turned his head and said:

"As for me, I consider myself as an orphan since my father said Heil Hitler!"

He smirked.

"Besides, (Y/N) (L/N) belonged to the past... as well as (Y/N) Landa. Now, you can call me (Y/N) Raine, like the father I found."

Smiling, Aldo gently ruffled (Y/N)'s hair.

"Come on, kiddo. Time to get home!"

As the door closed in front of him, Hans Landa let out a scream of pain and anger: this time, he lost the war for good. 

And the fatal blow came from his son, who severed their blood ties with his sharp words.

Even him, the great detective, did not see that coming... 

Thanks for the reading!

I hope you enjoy the story!

Your requests are always welcomed here!

Stay safe and see you later! 😘🥰😍

[writingblackpink]

Coincidence (pt. 1)

genre: fluff (?)

word count: 3.6k

pairing: rosé x reader

Wherein your friend drags you out to dinner and you meet a familiar face....but is that all she is?

A/N: Hi :) Here’s another Rosé x reader I’ve had in the reserves for a while! A part 2 is in the works, but if you have any suggestions or ideas, drop them in my ask! Enjoy! 

-

You don’t even know why you’re here. You really, like REALLY, wanted to stay home and call it an early night after the week you’ve had. Your boss seemed to only speak to you to tell you you’d done something wrong, a pipe burst in you and your friend’s apartment causing the both of you to rearrange the furniture once (and then back again four days later once the landlord was able to get someone to fix it.), and to top it all off, you spilled coffee down your white blouse on the way in to work today and didn’t have time to go home to change so you sat in a coffee stained shirt in four meetings enduring your colleagues’ judgmental eyes while you tried to make light of the situation by making fun of yourself for spilling the coffee in the first place. It didn’t help at all - if anything, it just made your coworkers think you were even more strange than they already thought you were. Curse your caffeine addiction. Honestly, you probably need a new job, but that’s an issue for another day. Right now, you just want to be wrapped in a blanket in your cozy bed, blocking out the outside world and getting a good night’s rest but it just seems like nothing can go your way this week.

So, you’re here, in the passenger seat of your best friend’s car, face pressed against the window as you stare up at the city lights. You actually think it’s kind of beautiful, the neon on the signs above you mixed with the light mist on the window causing the color to soften and blur just a bit. The sounds of the bustling city muffled by the alt radio station your friend likes to listen to and the sound of the car driving through the rain kissed streets. It kind of looks like the tumblr moodboards you always see while scrolling your dash late at night. If you were creatively inclined at all you’d probably take out your phone for a picture to post to your small Instagram following, but then you remember that you don’t even want to be here so you’d rather wallow and pout for a bit longer.

“You look like a sad puppy with your face squished against the window like that,” your friend whines out. You peel your face away from the window and turn towards her, not missing the pout across her lips.

“I told you I don’t even want to go out.” You mumble back.

Your friend always has a way of making you do things you’d rather not. And it’s really not like you hate doing them. You do like her company after all and don’t mind spending time together regardless if you’re doing something you personally enjoy or not. Nine times out of ten, you actually enjoy doing whatever she drags you out to do, but you’d never say that out loud. At least not right now.

Tonight was different. She had mentioned that one of her coworkers that she has the tiniest crush on invited her to dinner except it’s not a date because her coworker was bringing a friend and she was bringing you. You tried to convince her to just go herself and tell her coworker she wants it to be a date, but that was more so because you REALLY did not want to go and not because you wanted or cared to see your friend happy. You did care for her happiness, just not in this particular moment. She caught on to the act pretty quickly and wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Just like every other time, you caved.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” she said, looking at you with a wide smile and pleading eyes. “You always say you need to branch out and meet new people. This is a good opportunity to do so. I mean, you’ve had the same four friends forever. Expand your world!”

She did have a point. When you moved to the city together after college, she immediately met and made a handful of friends. Most of the friends you have currently are people you’ve met through her. It’s been over a year now and you still have yet to branch out. The more you thought about it, the more you were losing your resolve not to go.

“Alright, alright, I’ll go. You can stop pouting. But if this dinner is lame I’m SO calling myself an Uber and getting the hell out.”

You left it at that as she squealed and grabbed her keys, telling you that there were reservations soon and, oh, also that she’s only giving you ten minutes to get ready. You grumbled your way up to your room, cursing under your breath and immediately regretting agreeing to this mysterious dinner.

She pulls into a parking spot and cuts the engine on the car, abruptly stopping the soft sound of the radio and leaving you two in the silence with only the rhythmic tapping of rain drops sprinkling across the windshield. You get lost in the serenity of the moment before your friend rips you away.

“Hey, let’s go. We’re already like,” you follow her gaze to where she glances quickly at the time on her phone, “ten minutes late, thanks to you.” The last part muttered more softly and sarcastically than the rest.

You roll your eyes and go to unlatch the door, immediately letting the cool air slide into the car. It’s a brisk fall evening. Not too chilly, but the quiet mist falling from the sky mixed with the cool breeze makes you want to crawl back into the car and never come out. Goosebumps break out along your skin when the wind brushes against you. You really should’ve brought a jacket, you think. You round the car and your friend immediately links your arm with hers, happily swinging them back and forth.

“I’m so glad you decided to come out,” she says cheerfully, and put that way, you can’t deny that her happiness doesn’t also make you feel glad you decided to come out.

You step into the restaurant together, the change in temperature causing you to briefly shiver as you adjust to the warmth. It’s nothing too fancy, just a casual sushi place across town you’ve been to a few times. The place is modern and open, with tables scattered uniformly around the room. Definitely targeted to people your age. It’s moderately busy for a Friday night, but not too busy, which you appreciate. The last thing you wanted to do was spend the evening yelling at each other over the loud voices of strangers in a crowded restaurant. If you had to leave the house, you decided this was an okay place to be.

“How many in your party?” The server asks. You stay silent while your friend smiles politely and mentions that you’re actually meeting someone here, eyes already scanning the room. The server smiles and backs away, letting your friend search for whoever you’re both meeting.

“Ah, there they are!” She exclaims, her eyes lighting up as she pulls your hand and weaves in between tables to get to your destination. As you follow her gaze, your eyes land on a table with two women facing away from you, one blonde, one brunette. That must be them, you think to yourself.

As you get closer to the table, you hear a fit of laughter erupt from the blonde. The sound is familiar, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. The sound was so warm and inviting, maybe that’s why it seems familiar you think to yourself as you both continue moving towards the table. Your friend rounds the square table and who you believe to be her coworker looks over with wide eyes realizing who’s finally arrived.

“I’m so sorry, we would’ve been here on time, but THIS one took her sweet time getting ready.” She uses her thumb to point in your direction and you immediately scoff, of course going to defend yourself.

“Excuse you, you literally told me ten minutes before we had to leave that we were even coming here, so sorry that—“

“Anyways,” she cuts you off “what’s important is that we made it...eventually. This is my best friend Y/N. Y/N this is Ashley, my coworker.” You immediately hold your hand out for a handshake, but she grabs your wrist and pulls you in for a tight hug. In your peripheral vision you see the blonde facing your direction, but she’s slightly out of focus so you can’t tell if she’s actually looking at you or just in your direction.

“Any friend of Joy is a friend of mine.” And you think that this girl is a little too friendly for your liking. Not that you didn’t like affectionate people, it’s just that, you didn’t like affectionate people tonight.

As you pull away you glance over to the blonde, eyeing you like a piece of meat, eyes lidded and a small smirk gracing her features. She’s really pretty, you think for a moment. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders in waves, each strand perfectly in its place. You take a moment to admire the shape of her eyes, almost almond-like, but accentuated by the light smokey makeup look she was going for. She’s just wearing a simple top and jeans, just like everyone else here, but there’s something about her that captivates you. There’s something in the familiarity of her laugh, the warmth of her eyes that makes you think––

Realization hits you. You definitely know this woman. How, you can’t remember, but she seems to see that spark light inside you as your eyes widen slightly in her direction, and she immediately reaches her hand out to shake from across the table.

“Hi. I’m Rosie. It’s nice to meet you.”

“I’m so sorry, but have we met before?” You spew out, eyebrows furrowed and looking directly into her eyes before really thinking and she snaps back quickly in her soft voice with “Uh, no. I think I would’ve remembered a pretty face like yours.”

Smooth, you think sarcastically. You’re not really in the mood for cheesy one-liners and her lips ticking up in a closed-lip smile just makes it worse. She moves to shake your friend’s hand too and then her gaze lands back on you. She said she didn’t know you, that you two have never met, however the smirk and quick wink she gives you when the other two in your party divert their attention elsewhere tells you a different story. Sensing some weird tension, you feign a cough and divert your eyes to your chair, moving as everyone decides to take their seats.

As dinner progresses you make small talk with the group, just wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. No need to drag this out when your bed is waiting for you at home. Rosie keeps looking at you with admiration, and throughout the whole meal you’ve been wracking your brain to try and remember where you know this girl from. “Come on, Y/N, THINK.”

Just as you were about to decline on dessert and ask for the check, Ashley and Rosie ask for the dessert menu. The waiter brings over four menus and you sigh, giving in and scanning the items. The table has since gone silent in deliberation, and while you’re trying to decide on the cheesecake vs. the chocolate cake, you feel what you think is someone kicking you under the table. You brush it off as an accident and go back to scanning the menu. Except it happens again, and this time whoever is doing it lingers a little longer at your shin, and yeah, that’s a bare foot. You look up to find everyone else looking down, but you glare at Rosie sitting directly across from you just a moment longer. If only you can figure out where you know her from…

You brush it off a second time, not wanting to make a scene, but it happens a third time, and this time when you look up, you find dark eyes peeking at you suggestively over the menu and it suddenly feels like you’ve been hit by a truck. You’re starting to remember bits and pieces, but you can’t create a coherent memory.

A few weeks ago your friend had convinced you yet again to “let loose” and “have some fun” and go out with her and some other friends to some bar that had just opened. You may have gotten a little too loose, to the point where you can’t remember all the fun you actually had. You don’t even really like to drink all that much, you’re usually the designated driver, but there was something about this night that told you to throw all caution to the wind.

You remember getting into an Uber with your friends and heading to the bar. You remember having a few drinks. You remember meeting who you now know as Rosie at the bar, and then everything after that got fuzzier. You both spent some time whispering in each others’ ears in the darkest corner of the bar, drowning out the pounding of the music and the voices of strangers and their drunken dialogue, and you remember leaving with her and taking her to your apartment, but the next thing you remember is waking up in your own bed with a pounding headache and in nothing but an oversized t-shirt, water and pills at your bedside table and a post-it note left on your bedroom door with a “Had fun last night. Hope the hangover isn’t all that bad. Call me -xx”, followed by a phone number. For the life of you, you couldn’t remember the girl’s name, but you felt warm when you thought about the night before, so you added the number in your phone with the lip emoji next to it for no reason other than you wanted to remember the warm feeling that ignited when you thought of her.

Chugging the water and exiting your room late in the afternoon, Joy greeted you with a “So, you had fun last night, huh? I heard you bring someone home? I can’t believe it!” she teased you, “You are able to have a good time!”

You scoffed it off with a “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” rubbing your temples and trying to ignore the ringing in your ears and the blush rising in your cheeks. Your friend never pushed you more about it, and you were grateful for that. You didn’t really have much to tell her anyways.

You’re also not one to bring home pretty girls from bars, but, again, something about that night made you throw every inhibition you had out the window. Maybe it was Rosie herself (from what you can remember, you liked her), maybe it was the alcohol. You couldn’t know for sure and it didn’t really matter. It wasn’t something you regretted, but you also weren’t super proud of it.

You immediately feel heat rush to your face and you feel her foot move up your leg once again. Just as the waiter walks over to the table, you feel the heat in the tips of your ears and just know you won’t be able to make a viable excuse if anyone catches you blushing THIS aggressively. You shoot up out of your chair so suddenly that it draws the attention of everyone at the table, specifically noting how startled Rosie looks at you jolting away from her touch.

“Um, I’m, uh, going to go to the restroom. I’ll pass on dessert.” With that, you turn quickly on your heels and make a beeline for the restroom. As you make it halfway there, you faintly heard Rosie say that she’s going to make a pit stop as well and you hear her chair move as she rises to follow shortly after.

“Shit...shit, shit, shit,” you curse under your breath as you hurriedly make your way into a stall, trying to think of ways you can avoid this humiliation as much as possible. Your non-confrontational attitude causes anxiety to peak in your chest. That, combined with Rosie’s unpredictable actions tonight, has you feeling a bit light-headed. Your breathing shallows. As you’re pacing in the confined space, you hear the door open and close, but no movement. Is she….is she waiting for you?

You decide to take a deep breath and unlock the door, but you gasp when she immediately puts her hand on your shoulder and pushes you against the cool tile wall across from the stall. There’s no one besides you two in there, and you’re worried she can hear your heart basically beating out of your chest. Hell, YOU can hear your deafening heartbeat echoing in your ears.

She moves in like she’s going to kiss you and you immediately tense up. This was not what you were planning on happening when you agreed to dinner tonight. In retrospect, you really should’ve called the Uber as soon as your friend pulled into the parking lot.

You could feel Rosie’s breath on your lips and it was all too much for you. The way she was looking at you, eyes heavy and lidded and oh, so seductive - her scent, faint vanilla and lavender notes that wafted through your nostrils. You couldn’t decide if you wanted to push her away or pull her impossibly closer. You could feel yourself getting lost in everything that was just her and your eyes screwed shut as everything became too much.

You were surprised when she didn’t kiss you. Instead, you felt her lean towards your right side and bring her mouth so close to your ear it made you shiver. The arm that wasn’t on your shoulder moved to rest her palm flat on the wall next to your face. You opened your eyes, but you could no longer see her face. The hairs on the tip of your ear reach up to meet the warm breath fanning across it. You felt your breathing pick up the closer she got.

“Why didn’t you ever call me, baby? You have my number, right?” she whispers seductively, sending a tingle down your spine. It’s so silent, you almost didn’t hear her with how loud your heartbeat is thumping in your ears.

Just as you open your mouth to stumble out a reply, she takes your ear lobe between her teeth and gives it a playful bite. You let out an embarrassing whimper as she does so, feeling yourself immediately melt into her. As she’s pulling away, the door to the bathroom opens and Joy walks in, but stops in her tracks when she sees the two of you.

You both snap your heads toward the intruder. You’ll admit, you’re in a bit of a compromising position, and you can’t tell right now if it would’ve been better for a stranger or Joy to find you like this.

You clear your throat and fidget away from Rosie, straightening out your shirt and moving to the sink to wash your hands while clearing your throat again. Rosie walks past your friend in the mirror and out the door like nothing ever happened. After washing your hands, you also walk past your friend without saying a word, leaving her shocked in the bathroom.

You walk back to the table and find that Rosie has easily fallen back into conversation with Ashley, while you feel like there’s a permanent blush brushed across your features. You try to ignore that though, and join in the conversation just as Joy is making her way back to the table. She glares at you a moment, still confused, and even though you see her trying to get your attention, you ignore her and hope she just takes it as you being too immersed in the current conversation to notice.

The rest of the evening goes by smoothly. No suggestive touching or longing glances, but you’re now realizing that that was what made this dinner interesting, and realizing so made you sad to see them go.

Soon enough, you’re saying your goodbyes with hugs outside of the restaurant with promises to meet up again soon. Rosie gives you a lingering hug and whispers in your ear once again, out of sight and earshot from the others.

“I’m serious, Y/N, call me. I want to get to know you better.”

She pulls away and you nod, despite still not having made up your mind on whether or not you were actually going to call her. She didn’t need to know that right now. Your mind is a mess and you’re still trying to sort out exactly what happened that night. Even if you weren’t going to call her, it’s not like you’d tell her anyways. Your non-confrontational nature wouldn’t allow it.

You smile and part ways, making your way to the car, hoping your friend wouldn’t question what she saw, but deep down knowing she will. It’s stopped raining now, and all that’s left is the wet pavement reflecting the streetlights above you. You know the barrage of questions is coming, but you’re trying to savor this moment of calm before the storm.

You take a seat in the car and look over to your friend who’s already staring at you. It’s a bit of an ominous scene in the late evening, the only light coming from the minimal street lights outside your window. You stay silent. There’s no way you can really anticipate what’s going to come out of her mouth first. Your thoughts are cut short when she starts speaking into the silence.

“So, are you going to tell me what I saw in the restroom earlier, or am I going to have to pull it out of you?” she asked accusingly.

“Joy,” you responded sincerely, “can you keep a secret?”

[depressedhatakekakashi]

Kakashi Week Day 5: Storms and Ninken

Storm Clouds

Words: 1971

Characters: Hatake Kakashi, Pakkun, Ninken

Warnings: Angst, mentions of Sakumo's death

Thunder crashed through the air, sending villagers and shinobi alike running for cover. Hoping for a quick hideaway from the rain clouds that linger over the village. The first few droplets of water fell towards the ground only seconds later, giving way to a torrent that showed no sign of stopping.

Flashes of blue and purple began to streak the pitch-black skies. On his lap, Kakashi can feel Pakkun quiver, his paws coming up to cover his ears in a poor attempt to block out the sound.

Placing a hand on top of the pug’s head, Kakashi took a moment to check in on all of the hounds. Each of them had settled on the roof of the Hatake residence, getting themselves comfortable around Kakashi when he had first decided to sit here a little over an hour ago. Now though, every single one of them had their ears covered. Even Akino, who would always tell Kakashi that there wasn’t anything in the world that could make him quiver, had one side of his head pressed right up against Kakashi’s leg while a paw covered the other ear.

“You can leave.”

His voice barely broke through the sound of wind rushing by. The only hound who seemed to hear him was Bull, who turned his head to look at him but still refused to move his paws.”Go back home. I’ll be fine here on my own.”

As if contemplating Kakashi’s demand, Bull turned his attention to the small pug sitting in his lap. Conveying the message Kakashi had given them wordlessly, he nodded his head and placed his paws over his ears once again when more thunder crashed through the night air.

Preparing to repeat himself, this time with a little more force, Kakashi was surprised when he felt movement on his lap followed by the slightest tug on his shirt. Glancing down at Pakkun, he raised an eyebrow when he noticed that the pug had grabbed a mouth full of his shirt, only to release it as soon as he had Kakashi’s attention.

“Is this your way of saying ‘no’?”

Waiting for the next clash of thunder to pass, Pakkun took his opportunity to speak when there was only the wind to fight against. “We’re not leaving you alone, pup!” leaning forward, he bumped his nose against Kakashi’s torso. “Don’t even bother trying to make it an order. You know you’re going to lose.”

It was true. While the hounds would follow him into the worst battle knowing that they could die, they were also equally capable of completely ignoring him if they decided that it wasn’t in any of their best interest to listen.

If they wanted to be there with him, they would be. Nothing he could say or do would get them to leave.

Turning his attention back towards the sky, he sighed when the cool rain dropped against his skin. Usually, he would enjoy the storm from the safety of his home. With strong walls and a nice glass window between him and the rain. Today, that just didn’t feel like enough.

His body was more tense than usual. The stress inside of him built up slowly, tugging at every nerve and muscle in his body while he mulled over the conversation that had gone on that morning.

A conversation that was supposed to center around his promotion to chunin, but had instead taken a turn for the worse when Koharu-sama decided to open her mouth.

I hope that you take this opportunity to be a better Shinobi than your father.

The village had left no doubt in his mind about how they felt in regards to his father. Every day he had to hear whispered judgments as he passed through the marketplace., but it stung more when he heard it from the elder’s mouths.

They were some of the only people in Konoha who knew better than anyone what his father was capable of. How strong and loyal he was to the village, right up until the end.

It burned, having to stand there and listen to them insult his father. No concern for the kid that was forced to stand there and listen to their vile words. Judgements that had caused his father to make the choice he had.

That had led to Kakashi walking into his home to find his father’s lifeless body lying in a pool of his own blood. Blood that Kakashi could swear he still saw on his hands some days, even though he knew it wasn’t there.

That it couldn’t be there.

“Pakkun…” he doesn’t know if the pug hears him. His voice is barely above a whisper in a storm that has drowned out all noise around them. “Do you think…”

Will I end up Like him?

Can I handle this?

What if I screw up? What if I end up just like him?

The feeling of a cold, wet tongue on his face pulls him out of his thoughts. Looking down at his lap, he found Pakkun standing with his front two paws on his chest looking up at him with a tenderness that he rarely ever saw in the Pug’s eyes.

With his thoughts no longer wandering, Kakashi finally noticed the state that he and the hounds were in. His clothes clinging to his skin, hair plastered down against his forehead because of the heavy rain.

If that wasn’t bad enough, all of the hounds looked like they had been tossed into the river. Bizuke was shivering against his leg, nose tucked away in his pant leg. Bull was currently being used by Shiba, Guruke and Uhei as cover from the wind.

All of this suffering, just so they could keep him company while he sulked out in the rain. His father had been right when he first taught Kakashi to summon the hounds.

‘They’re loyal’ his words echoed in Kakashi’s ears. ‘Sometimes a little too loyal. You’ll have to watch out for them and make sure they don’t do anything stupid just because they don’t want to leave your side’

“Alright,” curling his arms around Pakkun’s tiny body, he hugged him close to his chest and slowly started to climb to his feet. Careful not to scare Akino and Bizuke with his movements. “Inside!”

With the order given, the hounds sprang to their feet. Clearly not wanting to waste any time, they jumped off of the roof without a second thought, leaving Kakashi to follow. Hugging Pakkun tight against his body, he ran towards the edge of the roof, jumping down towards the ground and landing beside the hounds.

Rushing towards the front door, he slid to a stop, just barely getting his feet to stop before he went crashing into the house. Even a well-trained shinobi sometimes struggled to fight against the elements. A fact he had to remind himself of before he began scolding himself for not having better control over his body.

“Come on!” grabbing the door’s handle, he pulled it open and watched as the hounds scrambled into the house. Leaving a trail of muddy paw prints all over the floor that he would have to clean up later.

Once all of them were inside, he finally stepped into the building and snapped the door shut behind him and sighed when he saw the hounds shaking themselves off. Spraying water all over the house.

“Huh, now I see why people like cat’s more,” every single one of the hounds turned to glare at him. A look that had him convinced they might actually try to tear him apart for speaking such cruel lies. “Whoe, I was joking.”

“That was a terrible joke,” Pakkun huffed, wriggling his way out of Kakashi’s grasp and dropping down to the ground, quickly following suit and shaking himself off. “You should change, pup. Or you’ll spend your first day as a chunin sick.”

‘What a great way to start off’ he thought to himself, already turning towards his bedroom and making his way. Ignoring the wet foot prints that he added to the growing mess that was his living room.

Stopping in front of the bedroom door, he reached out to grab the door handle, his hand coming to a stop half way there. Hovering in the air between him and the door, not turning back but not moving forward.

“Pup?”

“Do you-” his hand dropped to his side. The question that had been plaguing his mind since the moment he had been informed of his promotion screaming to get out. Desperately pleading for an answer. “Would he be-”

Something soft bumped against his hand, pulling his attention down to his side where Bull now stood with Pakkun standing on top of his head just as he always did when all of them were together.

“He’d be proud of you,” the pug answered, continuing to rub his head against Kakashi’s hand until he finally gave in and lifted his fingers to scratch the small dog behind the ear. “Just like we are, pup.”

It felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of his shoulders suddenly. Even after everything had happened. After all the terrible things that he had to endure listening to whenever the villagers spoke of his father, a part of him still wanted to be someone that his father could be proud of.

“I’m not going to end up like him,” he assured the hounds, giving Pakkun a quick pat on the head before continuing into his bedroom. “I’m going to be one of the best shinobi in all of Konoha. I promise.”

As the door closed behind him Kakashi could swear he heard Pakkun saying something along the lines of “Of course you will.”. A phrase that should have made him feel immense pride, but instead knocked him back a little when he heard the sad tone in the pugs' voice.

Pressing his back against the door, he ignored the shiver that ran through his body when some water dripped from his hair down his front. Pakkun was the one hound that Kakashi could always trust to be truthful with him. Who refused to lie to him even though it might have been the best course of action.

So to hear him say something like that with such disappointment in his voice. There were fewer things that screamed ‘I screwed up’ to Kakashi than that. It wasn’t too surprising though. The Hounds had their loyalties to more than just Kakashi.

After all, they were his dad’s summons first. They had been the first ones to show up after his father’s death, already knowing what had happened. Saving Kakashi from having to explain what he had seen for the hundredth time that night and simply curling themselves around his tiny body. Providing him with a safe place to break down after everyone else had finally left the house, the stench of blood still lingering in the air.

“Hurry up, pup!” Pakkun called through the door. “It’s rude to keep us waiting.”

Shoving himself away from the door he made his way towards the small closet in his bedroom, already peeling the soaking clothes off of his body and tossing them off to the side of the room. A chore for him to take care of in the morning before he left for training with Minato-Sensei.

“I’ll be right out!” He called back, already planning on cocking up the fish that he had caught earlier to help warm his body. Maybe once he had some food in him, he would collapse into his bed, or better yet he might be able to convince bull to let him sleep against him.

A bed was nice, but for some reason, he always felt better after a night of being smothered by the hounds.

[satingrove]

there is no maker

pairing: obi-wan kenobi x jedi!reader

summary: you secretly watch obi-wan teach a group of younglings. one senses his feelings of love, prompting you to leave. he seeks you out.

wc: 2.258k

warnings: some angst, sad and lonely obi-wan, fluff, RAIN

“There is no emotion, there is…?” Obi-Wan Kenobi sits before a half-circle of younglings, waiting patiently for a signal and the completing word of the sentence. “Yes, go ahead Gungi.” He smiles warmly.

“There is peace?” Gungi watches the Jedi Master timidly, though he knows his answer is correct.

“Very good, little one.” Obi-Wan affirms the tentative reply from the Wookie, offering a second cozy grin in his direction. He recalls the repetition of the Code from his own youth, the endless chanting of the same words that deny the existence of emotion, ignorance, passion, chaos, and even the wicked hands of death. But it doesn’t hurt him to revisit it in the lesson he teaches now, with the bright and shining younglings of the next generation of Jedi.

Gungi’s sigh of relief does not go unnoticed, the sound of air pushing out of lungs prominent in the quiet Temple room. Continuing through the mantra, Obi-Wan recites the poetic form of the Jedi Code, leaving out words for the younglings to add in themselves, a symbol of their understanding.

They reach the final lines, There is no chaos, there is harmony, and he feels his chest swell with honour.

“Can I do the last line, Master Kenobi?” An enthusiastic Tholothian, Katooni, chimes in. Obi-Wan agrees, calmly but showing encouragement for her.

“There is no death, there is the Force.” She flutters her eyes closed as she delivers the line, a level voice and a sense of dignity.

As Katooni mentions the Force, an additional pair of robes sweep into the clear room, unrecognized by any of the members within. You watch, arms crossed against your chest, leaning against a large marble pillar.

It’s his fault, you think, watching Obi-Wan with the children. It’s his fault that they love him so dearly, that he looks much too fatherly with them not to be a father. It pulls at your heart so deeply, the patience he holds for those prone-to-trouble juniors.

“Lovely words, yes Katooni?” Obi-Wan questions with a raised eyebrow, making the little girl giggle and cover her mouth. His fault that they love him so dearly.

“Now, I’d like you all to try and reach out with your feelings. Tell me what you sense in my direction.” Obi-Wan instructs the younglings who sit cross legged with straight backs. All is still, no shifting or fidgeting. Their eyes are closed in profound concentration.

“Master?”

“Yes, concentrate and tell me what you feel.” His eyes flick to the source of the voice, and then land on what he knows are your robes, poking out from behind a pillar. Tilting his head in dazed fondness, the corner of his lips turning upwards, he lets his shields down.

“Well… it’s changed.” A puzzled Rodian speaks. “Before, it was just serenity, but now I sense…” Love? No, surely Master Kenobi wouldn’t feel such a passion as love. 

“Go on, Ganodi. There is no judgment here with your friends.” Obi-Wan assures, vaguely gesturing to the rest of the group, and turns his stare to the fabric looming behind the pillar next to the archway, chastising himself for his wavering focus.

“Love, Master. Passion…”

You take a step outwards. Love… for what? For who? It’s something you’d rather not know, and while the domestic sight of Obi-Wan with the children is exceptionally pleasant, you’d still prefer not to know.

The Master becomes frigid, only on the inside; his exterior shows poise. He’s aware of your quick exit, the speedy flash of a cloak whisking through the archway, and he’s not without cherry blossom blush upon his cheeks.

It’s morally wrong to deny the Rodian, who guessed truthfully. He knows that. It would merely cause confusion for the poor thing, but he also knows better than to let it be known, his love and passion aren’t information which can be relayed to anyone, save for himself. And so he does save himself, by doing neither.

A soft “aww” sound, the disappointed kind, echoes when the lesson is cut short. Gungi tugs on Obi-Wan’s sleeve.

“Please, Master Kenobi? I was finally getting the hang of it!” His pleading, furry face splashes a hint of guilt into Obi-Wan’s.

“Another time, Gungi. Another time.” Looking like a tired grandpa for a split-second, he manages a forced chuckle.

-

What? and who? sit aboard your clouded train of thought. The tracks are a circle and it rides full speed, fuming and steaming. Smoke rises in your head. The vast hallways of the Jedi Temple turn into the wide exit path, and then to the winding streets of Coruscant, where it rains angrily from the skies. You suppose it’s how you feel inside. Downcast. Sodden. But rain doesn’t feel confusion. In your frenzied state, you’re smart enough to remember that. The rest of common sense is drowned with the plummeting rainfall and you don’t know where you’re headed. You don’t know why you feel jealous. For who? For what?! The wet and cold stick your robes tightly to your skin. 

Passing through a small market sector, there’s the smell of blumfruit and something even sweeter. It’s soon forgotten as you weave through groups of species you’re not sure you’ve ever seen before. A few looks are tossed your way. Jedi. You’re no stranger to the apprehensive attitudes that some hold. 

As the looks are tossed, you pay no mind to throw them back. Your emotion makes for a brisk stride. There’s little manner down in the streets of this planet, only one or two polite people making way for your trek. It’s dirty and grey and exactly the colour of your useless longing. The Maker above is thanked in a whisper when you find a private spot, covered from the rain and up a fair amount of stairs.

At this moment, you don’t feel like a Jedi. At this moment, there is passion and chaos and a generous slab of envy. The kind that has long green vines that grow and encase your heart and shield it from the sun. It takes all the golden light for itself. And for now, so do the clouds in the atmosphere, that overlook a second Jedi roaming through the streets, following the traces of a Force Signature.

-

Obi-Wan’s hood is drawn over his head, his arms tightly wound across his chest. The rain does the same to him as it did to you, making his robes cling to his body. It’s not something he has the time to care for, but whether or not he could care, did not matter. Obi-Wan is one for stormy weather, lifting his face upwards to feel raindrops trickle upon his cheeks into his light-coloured beard. The chagrin of letting the younglings down in their excitement bites at him. His hood slips off from his tilted head. 

Your Force Signature is apparent; Obi-Wan knows your sign, the sensations and presence you leave behind to other Force users to pick up on. He figures he knows it the best of all. He hopes he does.

Tracing the loops through the same market, he becomes almost grumpy with the crowded spaces that are too dense to let him keep up the pace of his urgent march. The foot of the staircase, its metallic steps gleaming with the rain, shows itself to Obi-Wan by degrees, the lethargic gaggle of strangers finally dwindling away. The passion surges.

Obi-Wan doesn’t feel like a Jedi.

-

You sense him long before he appears in front of you, soaked through all layers. It’s at your bewilderment that he remembers - you didn’t know he caught you hiding behind the pillar, so to find him at the edge of the steps, despondent, tells you something about the “who?” question that crippled your thinking patterns remarkably. The realization paints across his face and makes him turn sheepish. A revelation that, in his own desperate madness, could have been kept under the wraps of his cloak had he not suffered a lack of wit to follow you.

The cloth sticks to his body in a way that is so modestly handsome, yet simple enough for Obi-Wan’s own looks to work their charm and make it appear ethereal.

He closes his lips tightly, nodding to you as a greeting, choosing to stay in the fall of rain. Rising, you walk to meet him from a foot apart. 

“Your younglings give you away, Obi-Wan.” You offer the start of conversation with the shyness that Obi-Wan found himself yearning to be met with.

“What were you doing in there?” He replies, an air of calm leaving with his words. His tone is quizzical, and it affirms all that you love about the Jedi.

The behaviour he administers standing there, displaying the utmost respect with which he regards all things, the softest touches of compassion and fortitude looming behind his barriers. His courage is in the face of adversity, your face, and he doesn’t know how to respond to it. Adversity, its misfortune, staring him in the face through the colour of your eyes and the curve of your lips. It smiles at him and he wants to kiss it.

The war he fights, to the far reaches of the outer rim, was enough for him before, yet he’s here now, damp and cold in the maze of Coruscant, with another war inside of himself. A heart duels with a brain.

“I like to watch you teach.” Your lips are wet.

“Is that so?” He answers fast enough, as if he already knew. There is a comfortable pause with the pitter-patter sounds of water. “What made you leave?” Obi-Wan asks this and he, in fact, did know the answer to that question.

Love. Passion. Before, it was serenity.

The present was serene, wasn’t it? Obi-Wan could think so.

“Felt like intrusion.”

“The younglings handled it well.” His lips work the sentence out, but the rest of his face says and you couldn’t? 

Except, it’s pained.

Except, it’s despairing and hopeless and all things that Obi-Wan refused to show to the world. And you wonder why. As grim as it may sound, he is beautiful. In his pain, he is beautiful. To you, to anyone who might see the way his hair is unkempt and falling into his face, the blue eyes looking fixedly, expectantly at their focus, his hands at his sides and his laboured breathing bringing his chest up and down, rhythmically. The only way he comes to that appearance is because he doesn’t care to fix it, because he’s too worried about fixing everything else. 

Then, you think of how much you hate seeing him like this, intimate and secret as it is. You figure you’re among a mere two or three who have seen him sad. He’s more beautiful when the sunshine peeks from his grin. That much is true. 

“Because you’ve taught them well.” Your compliment soothes him briefly, but he adopts that unhappy look that makes you think there’s no Maker above, although you’ve just thanked it, because no Maker would have let Obi-Wan Kenobi feel the way he does right now. Forlorn. Not like himself.

And, not like himself, he loses some of his reserve.

He makes the distance minuscule. A cautious hand reaches his face and brushes over his beard, your thumb brushing kindly back and forth across his cheek. Obi-Wan absent-mindedly leans into it and he thinks of how healing it feels when you touch him. How he longs for you to keep touching him. 

You catch the sun peeking through the crack of his lips as they smile.

All he knows is that it’s been lonely. The way you speak to him, touch him, feel him, tells him that the rough edges of life and war can be softened. They can be buffered. That he can love freely, and that he’s glad it’s you.

It’s impossible for either of you to get any more wet, and the thought of shelter, even now, is abandoned along with his fear of unrequited feelings.

Obi-Wan raises his hand through the misty air, letting it fall upon and envelope yours. He brings it close to his heart, and closes his other around it. Gentleness is about the only thing you can register -  his soft movements as he becomes himself are profound and calculated. The remnants of his loneliness that had come out of hiding are already disappearing, as if he breathes it out into the air to be lost, as he himself is found.

Your hand remains clasped by both of his when his lips touch your forehead, a pillowy kiss that says what he cannot. The sun shines within him, as if kissing the moon or the stars, his perfect counterpart.

The sun softly lights the moon, and what a comparison it is, because you know that Obi-Wan is golden as he takes you in his arms and you press against each other in a burst of rays. The kind that keep you warm through all the layers of drenched robes. His nose is pressed into your shoulder, your arms wind tight around his neck. A thought of his presses into your mind, spoken in his voice, be my comfort, I seek you everyday.

Passion is in the gestures and love is in the feelings shared, one Jedi to another. 

There is no passion, there is serenity.

It’s left up to the rain to convey the serene qualities in this exchange of two fond people, who look at each other the way that lovers do.

[titsuya]

SAR HI😭😭😭 THIS IS MY REQUEST NOW😭😭😭

I UM😨😨😰😰 UMMMM😨😨😨😨 H-HAVE A CRUSH ON U

im done now but can we matchup with each other also ur rules were making me laugh so much why’re u so funny

OK ANYWAYS im newly 18, submissive & breedable, and looking for hot sexy singles in your area😈😈 not that new its almost been half a year i cant take it

anyways;;; im 18 and go by they/them pronouns:) i’m closer to ENFP but im also INFP,, and i’m a gemini!!

i really like animals and think that i’d be a capybara if i was one <3 #worldslargestrodent

i also really like plants,, anything to do with nature (except moths. and crickets/grasshoppers.) makes me super happy :) i genuinely think that if we all were still cavemen and the environment was able to thrive then life would be better but </3

UMMMM I TRY TO BE REALLY NICE AND KIND BC I’VE HAD PEOPLE BE MEAN TO ME AND IT SUCKS + YOU NEVER KNOW WHAT SOMEONES DEALING WITH UHHH ALSO I REALLY DON’T LIKE BEING MYSELF AROUND PEOPLE BC IT’S EASIER TO FAKE IT AND BE THE KINDA PERSON THEY’D LIKE??? YK???

I TRY BEING HAPPY ALL THE TIME BC FAKE IT TILL YOU MAKE IT AND THAT’S IT I THINK OK SORRY IF THIS WAS GAY ILY AND I’M SORRY

tee wtf my rules arent even funny 😭 ilysm bby hopefully u enjoy this

I MATCH YOU WITH

me (jk)

SAKUSA KIYOOMI

if ur confused, let me explain

you and sakusa are an interesting combination. kind of perfect for each other actually. you bring out his fun side that he’s super afraid to show everyone. mans can’t laugh unless he’s with you. but he always encourages you to be yourself when you’re with him bc he’ll never judge you even though he’s portrayed as the most judgmental person.

YOUR TROPE: opposites attract

you two didn’t really like each other. like at all. not in an enemies way, but like a “he’s so annoying/they’re so annoying” type of way. you guys are partners in your college english class (i guess idk something like that) and you’re kinda forced to talk to each other. you realize he doesn’t actually have a stick up his ass and knows how to laugh and he realizes that you’re not actually an annoying brat and that you are super fucking funny, hot and sexy. then u guys kiss and he finds out ur breedable and submissive THEN you guys eventually fall in looooove <3

YOUR SONG: moonlight — chase atlantic

i hc sakusa to literally have lived his entire childhood under a rock. i feel like ur the person that would give him everything— all the good and fun times. dancing in the rain, late night grocery store runs and dancing in between the aisles, stargazing on the hood of a. car, etc.

moodboard !!!

DRABBLE (bruh this shit is so long sorry)

“bae, guess what?”

he rolls his eyes, looking up from his phone to you, sitting there waiting for you to tell him something.

“i said guess bitch,” you roll your eyes back at him. “before i rip your hair out.”

he chuckles at you, smiling slyly and saying, “yes, tee, what is it?”

you smile widely, “‘m so breedable and submissive, you don’t deserve me,” you sigh, flipping your hair.

he scoffs, shaking his head and rolling his eyes and you laugh, making another joke, “you know if you keep rolling your eyes like that, they’re gonna get stuck back there,” (LMFAOOOOO)

“shut up,” he laughs, flicking your head.

“ow, fuck you! you know what, nevermind, now you definitely don’t deserve me. that’s why you have a piss kink.” you frown, ruffling his hair. “you know how you can make it up to me?”

he furrows his eyebrows, confused, “why would i make it up to you, you just accused me of having a piss kink?” you give him a stern look to say, it wasn’t an accusation. he rolls his eyes once more, saying, “how?”

“tell your breedable and submissive partner that you love them,”

he blushes, furiously, never used to saying the 3 words, yet he sighs and mumbles them anyways, “i love you… there are you happy?”

“hahaha, yeah, you’re such a loser…. but i love you, too, i guess… now go put on the maid outfit.”

[comic-book-jawns]

Closure

“Dani? Dani, what’s wrong?”

Jamie cups her cheek. Dani wants to be able to explain, wants to assuage the concern etched all over Jamie’s face. But her mind feels simultaneously like it’s racing and not working at all. All she can do is hyperventilate, which isn’t even her doing, just her body’s automatic response to what she just saw — or more specifically, who she just saw.

She can’t even get a word out, but Jamie seems to understand. She feels Jamie take her hand and squeeze it.

“You’re okay, Dani. You’re with me. Hold on to me, yeah?”

Dani manages to wrap her other hand around Jamie’s upper arm and lean in closer.

“Good, baby. Good job.”

She hears Jamie whisper it as she stares down at the floor, not wanting to see the eyes inevitably turning toward them. It’s pathetic really that she should be a focal point amidst an array of world-renowned paintings, but she gets it. It’s human nature. But that doesn’t make her feel any less uncomfortable.

“You okay to walk?”

Dani jerks her head and then feels Jamie gently pull her along. She keeps her eyes down, trying to focus on Jamie — her warmth, her scent, the callouses on her hand.

When’d they first gotten together, on that fateful night a decade ago now, Jamie had been embarrassed of them, felt the need to apologize.

“I like them.”

Jamie had almost laughed as she’d lain on her back next to Dani, who’d lain on her side facing Jamie, propping her head up with one hand and holding Jamie’s hand on top of the covers with her other.

“Dani - ”

“No, I’m serious. They’re like - ”

“Sandpaper?”

Dani had rolled her eyes.

“They’re like you... They’re... ” She’d sighed. “Grounding.”

In the dark, Dani hadn’t been able to see her blushing, but she’d heard it in her voice.

“Oh.”

*****

“Did ya see her?”

Dani whips her head up. How could Jamie possibly know that? She didn’t even know what... oh, that her.

Jamie had sat her down on the closest stairway she could find. It wasn’t secluded, exactly. But the people passing by aren’t really paying them any mind. And Jamie’s crouched down in front of her, partially blocking her from view and holding her hands.

Dani shakes her head.

“Eddie- ” She sees Jamie’s eyes go wide. “Eddie’s mom. She’s here.”

Jamie opens her mouth but doesn’t seem to know what to say. She nods.

“Okay.” She nods again, processing. “Okay, we’ll leave when ya feel up to it.”

“Jamie... ”

They had a limited amount of time on this vacation in Philadelphia, and today had been specifically designated for the Museum of Art. If they leave now, they won’t be coming back.

“Poppins, what d’ya think I care more about: you or some bloody art?”

Dani laughs, despite herself. It was hard not to when she put it like that. It was hard not to laugh around Jamie, period. And she feels even lighter when she hears Jamie chuckle after a moment.

“Danielle?”

Just like that she feels all of the tension come flooding back to her body. That voice — older, but just as gentle, just as kind. Before she can react further, she feels Jamie squeeze her hands, then watches her stand and turn around.

“She’s okay. Just a little lightheaded. Needs to eat.”

It’s not entirely a lie. They had been planning to take a lunch break sooner than later.

“Oh, here... ”

Dani hears Judy step closer and leans over just enough to see her take something out of her purse. It’s a bag of pretzels, Dani’s favorite childhood snack. It’s coincidental, of course, has to be. But Dani can feel her eyes water ever so slightly. She ducks back behind Jamie as the woman who practically raised her looks back up.

“I know we’re not really supposed to bring food, but — well, everything is just getting so expensive these days.”

She laughs as if she’s making small talk, Dani thinks — as if she’s not trying to feed her former almost daughter-in-law, whom she hasn’t seen since she abruptly disappeared from her life without a word. Dani hears Jamie take the bag.

“Thank you. That’s very kind ah ya.”

“You’re not from around here.”

It’s not said with judgment, Dani notices, more an air of curiosity.

“What gave me away?” Dani smiles as she hears Judy laugh again. Jamie is charming — she, of all people, should know. But she also knows Jamie is fairly shy, especially around strangers. She usually leaves the talking to Dani, but here she is stepping up for her sake. “I’m from England, originally.”

“Oh, how lovely. I am, too, actually.” Dani furrows her eyebrow, unbeknownst to Judy, but Jamie must be wearing a similar expression. “My family, I mean.” She hears Judy chuckle. “I try not to talk about it too much because my husband was Irish.”

“Was?”

The words are out of her mouth before Dani even processes what she’s doing. Jamie turns back to look at her, inadvertently putting her in full view of Judy.

“Danielle?”

She says it more softly this time. Realizing her mistake, Jamie moves in, but Dani puts a hand out. Jamie takes it, helping her up, and she finally comes face-to-face with Judy. Her hair is still brown, clearly dyed; and her face is wrinkled.

But her eyes are unchanged, warm as ever — though Dani had noticed them widen for a moment. But she’s grown accustomed to it. Even people who haven’t know her since childhood don’t expect her to have different colored eyes.

Dani swallows.

“Mr. O’Mara... ”

Judy smiles sadly.

“A few years ago.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Dani hadn’t been as close to him, but he’d always been welcoming. In fact, he’d helped teach her how to drive, readily loaned his car for practice, so she wouldn’t have to wait for the one reserved for her Driver’s Ed class to be free.

Eddie had pushed back, insisting that he was the one who would be driving them around, so what was the point. But Mr. O’Mara had also pushed back, with a laugh. “I will be buying the car, and I want it to remain in one piece, so I think Danielle will be doing the driving.”

Eddie had barely spoken to her for a week after that, so Dani had not been entirely grateful for the support — always worried about keeping Eddie comfortable at her own expense. And she had also been aware that Eddie’s insecurities partially stemmed from his father being hard on him, on all his sons, in a way that he wasn’t on Dani — not that it was an excuse for Eddie’s behavior.

In the end, it was Eddie who drove them around, but Mr. O’Mara had made Dani follow through with the class; and, upon her getting her license, he'd told her she was welcome to drive the car whenever she wanted, even by herself.

Judy’s smile brightened.

“Oh, it’s all right. Thank you, sweetie.”

She goes to reach out, but then hesitates. For a moment, Dani just continues looking at her, taking the moment in, and then she takes a breath and reaches out herself.

And suddenly, it’s as though no time has passed. She’s nine years old again, and Judy is walking her home from ballet class.

Her mother was supposed to pick her up, but she hadn’t showed. Dani had called and an intoxicated Karen had insisted Dani must have told her the wrong day. Crying, Dani had tried to explain that she hadn’t. She’d been attending the weekly class for two months now, and it had always been on Wednesday nights.

Karen had refused to accept that Dani was right or even apologize. She’d told her to walk, which was what Dani usually resorted to. She’d only called because it was raining, and she didn’t have an umbrella or even a jacket. But, out of options, tears still streaming down her face, she’d set off.

Halfway home, hugging herself as she shivered, she’d heard it.

“Danielle?”

She’d looked up to find Judy a little farther down the sidewalk, wearing a jacket and holding an umbrella.

“Hi... Mrs. O’Mara.” She’d said through chattering teeth.

She’d seen her a couple hours ago, having gone home with Eddie after school. She’d offered to drop her off, but Dani had explained that she needed to go home first anyway to get changed and that her mom would be picking her up.

She’d then walked to the rec center from her house, having reminded her mother where she was going when she’d walked out the door. Her mother had responsed with an “uh-huh” that had told Dani she wasn’t really listening, but she’d still held out hope.

Judy had run to her and wrapped her in her jacket, hugging her and rubbing her back and arms to try to warm her up. Then, she’d taken her hand, and they’d set off together. Judy had invited her to come back to her house, but Dani, having not called her to pick her up out of embarrassment, had declined. She’d even told her that she had told her mom the wrong day, that it was her fault.

Dani had been able to tell, even then, that Judy didn’t buy it, but Judy hadn’t pushed back. She’d simply said that if it happened again, she wanted Dani to call her, and she would come get her. Dani had tried to decline, graciously, but Judy had held her ground.

So Dani had promised to do so, smiling shyly, and Judy had offered to at least make her some hot chocolate — Eddie would want it, too, anyway — before walking her to her own home. Dani had agreed. The next week she’d called Judy after her mother was a no-show yet again; and the week after that, Judy had been waiting for her outside when class had let out.

And that was their Wednesday night routine for years, through middle school, anyway. Sometimes Eddie would be with her, and she’d take them out for pizza or ice cream. Sometimes it would just be them, and she would take Dani to go get their nails done; or she would just walk her home, and they would talk. And Dani would smile and laugh and relax, in a way she never could around her own mother.

And even with everything that had happened, all the pain that had come later, Dani feels herself slipping back into it now, just a bit, into that comfort that she’d felt in presence for so long. She doesn’t even realize she’s crying until she feels Judy, still smiling, gently brush her cheeks with her free hand, then lower it back to her side.

Dani turns to Jamie, who’s still holding her other hand. Jamie smiles at her, and even looks rather misty-eyed herself, if a bit in shock too. Dani has a question to ask her, but there’s no subtle way to do it. She’s about to ask Judy if she can talk to Jamie alone for a moment, but then she feels Jamie squeeze her hand. Dani raises her eyebrows, then feels Jamie squeeze her hand again.

Dani smiles herself now. She wants to kiss Jamie so badly, but she settles for squeezing her hand back.

“Oh, this is beautiful.”

Dani turns back to her, and her eyes go wide. She hadn’t thought of which hand she was giving Judy when she’d reached out. But it’s too late now — Judy is lifting her hand to examine the Claddagh ring up close. And then her panic is replaced by anger, at herself. She loves Jamie, and how dare she feel uncomfortable about it.

But that wasn’t it. She’d wanted to tell Judy, but not like this. If she’d just -

“It’s Irish, too, you know.”

Well, the name was rather a dead giveaway. But Dani holds her tongue. She knows Judy is just making conversation. Surely, this was awkward for her to. She did almost marry her...

“Who’s the lucky man?”

Dani feels her heart break as she feels Jamie shift her hand in hers so Jamie’s own ring is facing away from Judy’s. But Dani understands. Jamie isn’t ashamed, either. She hasn’t let go. She’s just giving Dani exactly what she wanted — control over the situation.

Dani takes a deep breath and proceeds her original plan.

“Mrs. - uh, Judy.” Dani clears her throat. “Would you want to join us for lunch?”

*****

“So you go by Dani now?”

“What?” Dani has been so preoccupied planning out how she wants to tell her, her comment doesn’t register at first. “Oh, uh, yes.”

Judy smiles.

“I like it.”

Dani feels herself blush slightly, then feels rather pathetic for Judy’s acceptance of her name meaning that much to her, but...

“And I like her.”

She watches Judy glance over toward the bathroom. Jamie had gotten up a few moments ago as part of the plan Dani had come up with, which she’d relayed to Jamie before they’d left the museum, having asked Judy to go on ahead. They would meet her outside in a moment. She just wanted to freshen up in the bathroom.

She had, in fact, done so while explaining to Jamie that she wanted to tell Judy alone, if that was alright. Nodding, Jamie had suggested she come back to the table in two minutes, either way. Dani had nodded and then started crying as Jamie slid off her ring.

“Jamie!” She hadn’t fully realized what she was asking of her. They’d literally just celebrated their 10-year anniversary a few months ago. “I - ”

Jamie had put the ring in her front jean pocket, then looked up and cupped her face.

“S’alright, Dani. Doesn’t change anythin’. We know, yeah?”

Jamie had smiled softly, then leaned up and kissed her forehead.

Dani is smiling now as Judy turns back to her. This would either makes things easier or even more painful, if she immediately changed her mind once Dani told her. Dani takes a deep breath.

“How long have you two been together?”

She should be relieved, but instead Dani feels all the air being sucked out of her lungs. Of all the scenarios she’d played out in her head over the past half hour, none of them had involved Judy figuring it out on her own.

“I - ”

She feels Judy lay a hand on top of both of hers, which she’d been wringing incessantly for the past thirty seconds.

“I’m sorry about before... for assuming.” Judy laughs awkwardly. “It hadn’t even occurred to me, considering you and - ”

There it was. The person neither of them had yet acknowledged. Dani feels herself starting to get lightheaded again.

“I’m sorry! I - I shouldn’t’ve... ” Judy sighs, closes her eyes briefly, then looks down. “This is like Carson all over again." Dani furrows her brow, not sure what Eddie's younger brother has to do with her and Eddie. But before she can ask, Judy looks back up and presses on. "What I’m trying to say is... I love you, Dan-Dani... and I’m very happy for you... Jamie is a very... a very lucky, uh... woman.”

For a moment, Dani says nothing as she feels her eyes watering once more. And then she completely breaks down.

*****

“Can I ask - ” Judy nods encouragingly. “How - how did you, umm - ”

Judy smiles warmly.

“I’ve never seen you look at anyone the way you think at her.”

“That so?”

Jamie is back with them now, sitting beside Dani in their corner circular booth. Jamie’s arm is wrapped around her shoulders, and Dani is leaning against her, breathing her in. Sitting even just a few inches away from her before had been torture. Dani turns her head to catch Jamie’s smirk.

“And I noticed the tan line on Jamie’s finger.”

“Ah, fuck me!”

Jamie’s left hand has been resting on top of Dani’s on the table. Her ring is back on, so the line is no longer visible, but instinctively, she starts to lift her hand for a closer look. And then she freezes, blushing. She puts her hand back down and clears her throat.

“Sorry.”

Even with her grey hairs — which Dani finds incredibly attractive, as she’d told Jamie when they’d started coming in and Jamie had grown self-conscious — Jamie looks adorably like a schoolchild who’s just been scolded for using a bad word. Dani can’t help but giggle. Jamie looks back at her and smiles sheepishly, blushing even harder.

“Edmund would be happy for you, too.”

Dani feels herself tense up again. Jamie must too because Dani feels her squeeze her shoulder. But this was why she’d wanted to talk to Judy alone. It wasn’t fair to Jamie.

She knew Jamie didn’t feel that way, would never feel that way, but that only made Dani feel more strongly that it was. She needed to protect Jamie from her own selfless — Jamie, who was already trying to ease her nerves. Knowing Jamie wouldn’t leave now, even if she asked her to, Dani turned back to Judy, sighing.

She could go along with it, pretend. But they were past that now. If this undid everything, so be it.

“I’m not sure that’s true.”

“Honey - ”

“You don’t - ” Dani swallows. “You don’t know everything that happened... that night.”

That stops Judy. A bit wide-eyed, she waits for Dani to elaborate. Dani takes a shaky breath and feels Jamie squeeze her shoulder again.

“I wasn’t his fiancée... when he... at the time of his death.”

She feel Jamie massage her shoulder as she watches Judy, who opens and closes her mouth several times, before landing on a response.

“I see.”

Dani doesn’t elaborate further. Jamie, of course, had helped her come to terms with it years ago, not that she hadn’t her moments here and there — on his birthday or even when she’d see a young boy and a young girl playing together — but she’d still known that Jamie was right: it wasn’t her fault, never had been.

Judy is silent for almost a minute, and Dani feels the time has come. She’d accomplished what she’d set out to do, said all she’d needed to say, right? She’d known it might end like this.

But just as she sits up more, preparing to stand, Judy take her free hand.

“Well, that... that doesn’t change anything... You’ve always been like a daughter to me... Dani. And you always will be.”

For what seems like the millionth time that day, Dani feels tears springing to eyes.

“Thank - ” She chokes on the word and clears her throat as she feels a few tears break free. “Thank you.”

She feels both Judy and Jamie squeeze her hands and then sees Judy look over her shoulder.

“And Jamie, too. Welcome to the family.”

Dani feels Jamie tense up and turns to find her gaping at Judy. Then, Jamie looks at her, and Dani sees the corners of her mouth twitch upward, but she’s still wide-eyed and rather pale.

“I’m sorry if I... I didn’t mean to overstep.”

Dani sees panic now creeping onto Jamie’s face. Dani flips their left hands so that hers is on top and squeezes Jamie’s. Then, she turns back to Judy, smiling as she lifts the same hand to wipe her face.

“You didn’t. Jamie is very grateful.” She feels Jamie nod behind her as she places her hand back on top of hers. “As am I.”

Judy smiles, relaxing. For a few moments, they sit in companionable silence, almost silence. Dani is still sniffling a bit.

“Oh, honey. Here.”

Judy grabs a napkin and reaches over. Dani feels Jamie’s hand slip out from under hers.

“I’m sorry.”

Dani hears Jamie’s voice crack as she takes the napkin, and she turns around in alarm, kicking herself as she sees Jamie’s face crumple. She’d miscalculated, assuming Jamie would cry once when they were alone. Jamie rarely let herself get emotional in public. She slips her hand out of Judy’s, takes the napkin out of Jamie’s and turns around more fully.

“It’s okay, Jay.”

Cupping Jamie’s cheek, she lifts the napkin, but then thinks better of it. This is about making Jamie comfortable, not Judy. She puts it back on the table, cups Jamie’s other cheek and closes her eyes as she leans in until their foreheads are touching.

“It’s okay.”

She hears Jamie’s stifle a whimper and feels Jamie bring her right arm, that had been draped across her shoulders, in closer until Jamie’s hand is rubbing the back of her neck. After a few moments, she hears Jamie starting to breath more evenly, then she feels her pull back.

Dani opens her eyes. Jamie looks better but embarrassed. She can feel the heat as she brushes her thumbs across Jamie’s cheeks to wipe away the remaining tears. But it’s Judy who speaks.

“I’m sorry.”

Dani glances back. Judy looks a bit uncomfortable but more out of concern, it seems.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Dani turns back to Jamie. “My wife doesn’t take compliments well.”

Dani grins as Jamie laughs. It morphs into a cough, and Jamie pulls away, bringing her elbow up to cover her mouth. But when she turns back, letting her arm drop back onto the table, she’s smiling. It’s her crooked smile, and it’s then that Dani decides she can’t wait any longer.

Cupping face again, she kisses her, softly and quickly. Even around someone other than Judy, she wouldn’t really feel comfortable doing more than that, and she knows Jamie wouldn’t either. That’s not their style, and they are still in public.

When she pulls back, she looks Jamie over. She appears to be mostly recovered, and as if reading her mind, Jamie nods, still smiling. Dani smiles back, then turns back to Judy, who, as it turns out, is smiling herself.

Dani feels her smile widen, though she’s not quite sure what to say, what there is left to say. But Judy, apparently, has something in mind.

“Jamie, now that you’re a part of this family, I think I owe you some Dani stories.”

“If that’s all right with Dani.”

Jamie’s arm is back around her shoulders. Dani leans against her once more, squeezes Jamie’s left hand and nods to Judy.

“Has Dani told you about the first grade pageant?”

For a moment even Dani draws a blank, then she feels her cheeks start to burn as she laughs.

“Oh, god.”

“Ya know, I don’t believe she has, Judy.”

Dani hears the smirk in her voice and feels Jamie nestle in closer.

As Judy begins the story of her six-year-old self going completely off book after her class had spent a month learning a choreographed dance, Dani squeezes Jamie’s hand three times. She hears Jamie’s breath catch for a moment, then hears her sigh and feels her squeeze back three times.

[ateezmakemeweep]

dom!jongho 

word count: 6k

smut 

request: @songsoomin

you had nothing but nice things to say about your neighbors across the hall. the three boys, yunho, san and wooyoung, were just about the happiest people you had ever met.

they had welcomed you with open arms, brought over wine and brownies and filled you in on all of the gossip and best places to eat. it's when you first heard about your next door neighbor, the one you still have yet to see a month into moving in.

but, oh, do you hear him.

hear the distinct, obvious noise of a headboard smacking against the wall and the loud, dramatic moans of "oh, jongho!" being cried out. and the first time you hadn't thought much of it, even thought 'good for him, at least someone's getting laid.'

but after the fifth consecutive night of hearing it, the pitches and tones sounding very much like different voices, you were convinced he was a scumbag.

"a scumbag?" wooyoung says, refilling your glass of wine even though you're already far too tipsy. "ouch, y/n."

"oh c'mon," you slur, "i've been here for a month and i've heard his escapades more nights than i haven't."

"but a man has needs," san pouts, stretching out on your floor as all the alcohol hits him at once.

"and a girl needs sleep!" you squeal, "i haven't even seen the fuckers face but i already know far too much about how big his-"

"oh, my god, no!" yunho yelps, throwing his hands out in front of him. "y/n, please spare us. we actually have to hang out with him and look him in the face."

they had told you all about their monthly dinners, each of them cooking a dish and swapping which apartment hosts. they had invited you to the next one that first day they met you and you had agreed; but now, after hearing all you've heard and already disliking someone you've never met, you're having some hesitations.

"so will she because she's coming tomorrow," wooyoung whines, your eyes narrowing at the boy as you shake your head.

"no. nope. no chance," you insist, throwing your wine back in a very impolite fashion. "i refuse to look at that man whore."

"hey! we don't slut-shame in this house!"

you can only roll your eyes at san's words, knowing damn well if the circumstances were reversed, a group of men would have a whole lot to say about a woman having a different person at her house every night.

and it wasn't even the fact that he was having loud, obnoxious sex with different people (okay, maybe it was a little bit). but it was more about the fact that these women might be walking in with the assumption that he was gonna wake them with breakfast and treat them dignity and respect. not replace her with a different face just twelve hours later so he can hear the same shit over and over again.

because it's shit you hear over and over again and you decide that when you finally do meet him, you're gonna give him a piece of your mind.

that day doesn't come until a few weeks later, purposely going out to dinner with your coworkers so you miss the neighborly dinner party that wooyoung was sure to text you angrily about.

you come barreling through your apartment complex from the rain, running toward the open elevator as your umbrella drips onto the floor. "wait! hold it, please!" you squeal, desperate to just flop on to your couch and never get up again.

but the elevator door just slams in your face, quickly catching the sight of a stocky man in a brown leather jacket with black hair. you let out a frustrated groan, cursing at him under your breath before clicking the up button impatiently.

it's when you make your way up to your floor five minutes later that you see the familiar brown leather, his figure standing in front of the apartment door next to yours and you can't help but let out a laugh.

of fucking course that would be him.

you stomp toward your apartment, having every intention to continue ignoring him until you hear his deep voice greet you.

"oh, hey. you must be the new neighbor," he says politely, looking up from the piece of mail he was reading. "i don't believe we've met yet. i'm-"

"jongho," you interrupt, craning your neck to the side to look him up and down. "yeah, i know. i've heard it far too much."

the smirk that crosses his face fills you with rage for multiple reasons, one being that he just looks so smug and cocky and pleased with himself, a confidence that probably lands him so many prospects in the first place. but it's also because even though you really, truly hate to admit it, he's annoyingly handsome.

"oh? did the boys tell you about me?" he quips, the look on his face the biggest indication he knows damn well that's not what you meant. you can only scoff at him, watching his eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"the boys?" you ask, tone feigning sweetness, "try girls. many girls. the walls aren't thin you know."

oh, i know," he says, smirking at how riled up you already are. and it's due to that very fact he can't help but add on, "because i hear nothing coming from your end."

your eyebrow shoots up at his comment, feeling anger and irritation flood through you at the relaxed way he leans against his door and smirks at you.

"what's that supposed to mean?"

"just that maybe you need to get some too, huh?" he says, tone sarcastic and playful. "is that why you're coming off so bitter, princess?"

"bitter?" you laugh out humorlessly, princess? is this guy fucking serious? you take a step closer to him and narrowing your eyes at him, "maybe try exhausted or appalled or disgusted! i've had to hear your escapades for weeks."

"is that really what this is about?" he quips, mimicking your actions and taking a step closer to you. "maybe you're just curious or dare i say....jealous? about my action and your...lack thereof."

and it's at that moment you can not believe he is a real person. how a real, living breathing person could be this dense and arrogant and repulsive to a person they just met (while completely ignoring the fact that you're being this judgmental and rude to a person you've just met).

"you're a sicko, a literal sicko," you spit out.

your comments only make his smirk grow larger, turning his head to the side before his eyes roam your figure. "i mean, if you wanna have an escapade of your own, if you apologize, i wouldn't be opposed to-"

"goodbye jongho," you say, taking out your key as you roll your eyes. "i wish i could say it was a pleasure meeting you."

"oh c'mon, don't be like that," he whines, his eyes twinkling at you in a way that would usually have you hook, line and sinker.

"how about you start being mindful of your neighbors?" you snap, opening your door and stepping inside before turning around to get in one last petty farewell. "because if i have to hear one more woman ask you if you're in yet, i'm gonna lose my mind."

"so... i heard you finally met jongho," yunho says on your nightly walk a few days later.

"ha, oh did i," you spit out sarcastically, remembering how irritated and frustrated that arrogant asshole had made you. "just as big a dick as i expected."

yunho has to bite his lip to he doesn't smirk or laugh, simply raising an eyebrow at you. "what?" you ask, catching the look on his face.

"nothing," he says, throwing his arms up in defense. "i just think...i mean, he's not that bad."

"different girls every night?!" you squeal, "oh, c'mon yunho. and you know what, it's not even about that. it's the fact that i hear every single thing, at all hours of the night. like last night, it kept me up till three a.m."

"okay, that is a bit inconsiderate," yunho agrees, not saying that, now, the boy is probably just doing it on purpose to get a rise out of you. because he knows jongho well and knows that any strong response like the one you give just serves as a way to interest the boy. makes him see just how far he could push someone until they really crack.

"so inconsiderate," you whine, a frown making its way on your face. "it's stressing me out, even, working on like four hours of sleep."

and any time yunho, wooyoung or san hear the words 'stressed out,' it immediately calls for a night of dancing and overpriced cocktails. you were hesitant at first, walking into the crowded bar that friday with an already tipsy san and wooyoung.

but once you got down a few drinks yourself, you were right there with them. dancing on them and doing shots and singing so loudly you knew you'd have that telltale, hoarse party girl voice the next day. but it was so worth it because right now, you were having so much fun.

forgetting all about your work obligations and thesis due in a few weeks, forgetting all about the frustration you've gathered from being single for almost a year and how you're kindly reminded every night you haven't gotten laid since then.

so maybe that's why you agreed to give the guy who bought you a drink your phone number, placing a peck on his lips before yunho works to grab you, wooyoung and san out of the bar.

"you guys are so annoying, we're never doing this again," yunho grumbled on the walk back to the apartment. because that's the only way to feel as he watches san almost get hit by a car three times, wooyoung screaming "hello!" into every open establishment and you asking him one hundred times if he thought it was okay and safe to give that guy your number.

but then once wooyoung and san start projectile vomiting all over the streets, you decide to give yunho a helping hand. you wrap san's arm around your neck, wooyoung's around yunho, and carry the boy's up the elevator and into their apartment. both of the boys promptly pass out on the floor and yunho waves it off, insisting they'll be fine and that'll he be sleeping on the couch in fear that they'll choke on their vomit.

"you're a good friend, yunho," you laugh out, hiccuping the last part of his name. "thank you for this. it-it was so much fun." and the boy can only softly smiling, placing a friendly kiss on your cheek and insisting you'll do it again after he discusses with a few selected few how to act properly.

you giggle as you stumbled toward your own apartment, your head turning to the side when you hear the ding of the elevator. your eyes widen when you see jongho come out, alone, and you can't help the way your hands start slowly clapping.

"wow," you say, "do-do my eyes deceive me? are you actually going into your apartment alone?"

that stupid, arrogant, obnoxiously handsome smirk is on his face immediately, shamelessly looking over your tight jeans and lace shirt. "you went out like that and you're going home alone?" he asks, resting his head on his door. "what was wrong with the men there?"

"if you could believe it, they had a conversation with me. got to know me and just talked. you know, like a decent human being."

he bites his lip to contain his smile, crossing his (large, muscular, exquisite) arms across his chest. "what, because i like to fuck i'm not a decent human being?"

"because you like to fuck in an abundance," you tell him, walking forward and standing in front of him. "and because the porn-like moans keep me up all damn night!"

"now, if you could believe it, those aren't my moans," he says teasingly, liking the way your finger feels on his broad chest. "so i don't know why you're yelling at me in the first place."

"because you're the one making it happen!" you squeal, "if i have to hear 'ugh, harder jongho!' one more time, i'm gonna shoot myself in the face."

he licks over his lips, resisting the urge to laugh at how perfectly you intimidated a fucked out, whiney voice. and something about it causes him to step closer to you, just a few inches of space keeping your fronts from touching.

"what if it's your own voice?" he asks lowly, his words teasing but eyes serious. "would you mind that?" his eyes roam over your outfit again, the curve of your hips and the slight silver of skin itching to have his hand on it. "because i still think that's what this is all about."

you swallow the lump in your throat, amazed and a bit embarrassed by how quickly he's humbled you. but it's the voice, the proximity, his eyes on top of the fact that, yeah okay maybe it's a little bit about that. but who can blame you? it's been far too long of the sad hum of your vibrator and muffled moans in your own hand filling your bedroom.

"i think you're an asshole," you weakly spit out, still trying to keep some of the resolve. but he sees through it, smirking as he allows his hand to touch your warm skin and push you slightly so your back connects with the wall.

"asshole or not, i'm free tonight and you're free tonight," he hums lowly in your ear, his finger tracing your skin tantalizing slow and causing sparks to shoot through you. "isn't that right?"

you swallow again, your arms hanging dumbly at your sides even though they should be pushing him right off of you. but you can only meet his gaze and feel yourself tremble, his eyes dark and teasing and boring right into you.

"i..." you can only stutter, looking from his face to his hand resting on your apartment door. you bite your lip at the sight of it, large and strong and you can only imagine what kind of damage it does. is that what keeps them screaming all night, his fingers toying at their clit or pushing into their-

but then suddenly both your hands are pinned above your head, a gasp leaving your mouth as warmth pools in your stomach. because you were right, they are very strong hands.

"you what?" he hums lowly, his tongue swiping his lip cockily as he takes in your expression. "that shut you up real quick, didn't it?"

you lick at your lips, narrowing your eyes at him which leads him to tighten his hold on you. you hate the whimper that leaves your mouth, feeling so small and defenseless under his touch. "so what, are we gonna do this this right out here?" he asks.

"we're not...gonna do anything," you sigh out breathily, looking from his eyes to the elevator. but he's quick to take the hand on your waist to your jaw, turning your head so you can look right at him.

you don't like this, you really don't.

actually you like this too much.

because his hand is far too close to your neck and if he wraps his hand around it, you'll be done. you'll probably beg for him and embarrass yourself and maybe even come untouched, who's to know really.

"oh no?" he hums, teasing and superiority in his tone. and then he starts doing just what you didn't want, moving down your neck and squeezing at the sides every so slightly. he doesn't miss the way your breath quickens, how your eyes close and you tip your head back further.

"you like this?" he says lowly, "you like my hand around your pretty little throat?" you whimper again, all the pent up frustration and desire hitting you at once.

anyone who says a cold shower is the best way to sober you up clearly doesn't know anything. all you need is a years worth of being sexual deprived and an obnoxious neighbor with strong hands and a high libido. because you feel completely coherent and aware, aware of the how fast wetness is pooling in your underwear and how your mind is flooding with all the things you want him to do to you.

"where else do you want my hand?"

your eyes fly open and now it's his turn for lust to creep on him, the glossy, heated, wide-eyed look you give him all he needs to suppress a low growl in the back of his throat. to move his hand down your cleavage and mumble "here?"

but when you shake your head, he only smirks, giving each breast a squeeze before trailing it down your stomach and right above the waistband of your jeans. "here?"

you feel like you're about to pass out now, your legs wobbly and breath so ragged and shaky. "touch me, please," you whisper, hating how fast he's made you desperate and pathetic. but you don't hate it enough to not give in, wanting and needing his hand between your legs.

"just because you said please," he says and then he's rubbing you over your jeans. you spread your legs out even more, crying out quietly when you feel him graze over your most sensitive spot. you feel how wet your underwear is becoming, wishing he would just stick his hand down there and give you what you want.

"j-jongho," you whine out, head lolling to the side as you look up at him.

"what do you want?" he hums, his hand instinctually tightening on your red wrists. "you want me to feel how wet you are?"

you can only nod your head quickly, thinking that maybe perhaps he can read your mind but not really caring at this point, because then he's zipping down your pants and sticking his hand in your soaked thong.

"shit," he grunts out, his profanity drowned out by the whine leaving your mouth. "i knew you were just frustrated. that's what it was, right?" but you refuse to answer, just focusing on the way his fingers are flicking at your throbbing clit. his fingers are so skilled and long, sparks of pleasure shooting right through you.

but that doesn't do for him. which is why he suddenly sticks a finger in your wet entrance making you cry out. "right?" he growls. "i'll leave you here dripping if you don't answer me."

"yes," you whine immediately. "i...want that."

"want what?" he asks, sticking a second finger in as some type of reward. which is why you speak again, whine out that you want someone to fuck you and make you scream.

"i offered," he said lowly, his finger quickly circling your clit. "but you were such a judgmental, self-righteous little-"

the ding of the elevator immediately brings you both back to reality, that you're both still very much in the hallway of your apartment complex. he immediately rips his hand out of your pants, dropping his hold on you and covering your body with his.

"zip them up."

and just like the past few minutes, you do as your told. the couple coming out of the elevator pass you with a polite hello, the flush on your face and the tent in jongho's pants leaving little to the imagination. but then they disappear around the corner, both of you huffing out a sigh of relief.

"shit, that was close," he says lowly, looking at your face to see you staring right at him. "what?"

"that was...."

he's expecting to hear the words 'amazing' or 'just what i needed' or 'not enough, come inside so we can finish.'

"a mistake."

his eyebrow raises at your words, looking over your flushed face and messy hair and knowing you're just saying that to safe face. because since the second you met, the tension was so palpable with sexual undertones and hidden desires.

"bullshit."

you roll your eyes despite the throbbing wetness between your thighs. "i'm serious," you tell him, pushing past him as you go to unlock your door. "this never happened."

"y/n, don't be so-"

but then the door slams in his face again.

the same way wooyoung slams it two weeks later, calling you innocently and telling you he wants to try out a new outfit for you. "i don't have any professional clothes so i want you to see if it's okay," he had said.

but then the second he walked in, in his normal attire and a determined look in his eye, you knew you fucked up.

"family dinner. jongho's. now. you're coming."

"wooyoung!" you whined, "you're such a dirty liar! that's not fair."

"i don't care," the boy said, running over and grabbing your hand in his. "you ditched last month and i won't stand for it any longer."

"let me at least-"

but you're dragged out of your safe, quiet home, clad in slippers and pajama shorts, before he barges in to the unlocked apartment next door. playful arguing and loud noises from a video game could be heard from the couch, the distinct whine of san's loud voice causing you to smile despite being dragged her against your will.

"look who i got!" wooyoung says chipperly, three heads snapping back to look at you with different expressions. yunho looks apologetic, eyes soft with sympathy as he mouths "sorry." san is overjoyed and clapping, bouncing his way over to you to wrap you in a hug and tell you about the game.

and jongho. the look in his eyes scares you as much as it arouses you.

because ever since the hallway incident, you haven't seen him. you listen carefully outside for the sound of his door opening or the elevator dinging, walking quickly and quietly anytime you go out for the day.

and now, it's like he's warning you just to wait. that ignoring him was the worst thing you could've done and now he's gonna show you your actions have consequences.

and about an hour into dinner, he does just that.

it started subtly at first, snide little looks and chuckles as you watched him and the boys play. but then when you were in the kitchen checking on the dinner, you felt his looming presence.

you acted as if he wasn't there, bending down to check the food in the oven before closing it with a quiet hum. and then before you knew it, his body was pressed right into yours from behind.

"finally done hiding?" he mumbled lowly in your ear. your breath hitches in your throat, his front pressed right into your ass as his deep voice sends shivers down your spine.

"what do you mean?" you ask, attempting to sound strong and unbothered. "i wasn't hiding."

a short chuckle leaves his mouth, hands falling to your waist before he cranes his neck back to see if the boys are watching you guys; but their eyes on trained on the tv, deep in an competitive state.

"were you embarrassed that i heard you?" he hummed, causing your entire body to still.

because after you slammed the door in his face, you really tried to ignore the burn between your legs. you had done everything possible, distracted yourself with tv and schoolwork and even a cold shower; but the second you laid in your bed, you found yourself rummaging through your bedside table and desperately switching on the highest setting.

found yourself wondering if jongho had been on the other side of the wall doing the same thing, relieving himself after trying so desperately to push the feelings and arousal away.

thats what caused the first loud moan to leave your mouth, thoughts of him and the incessant vibrations against your clit. and then the whines and little noises leaving you just continued, not even trying to cover them because it's about time he gets a taste of his own medicine back.

"or did you want me to hear you?" he asks, growling lowly in your ear. "i don't know the last time i had to get off to my own hand."

"i don't know who told you to do that," you say sarcastically, the bratty side of you coming out and causing him to chuckle lowly. and you didn't realize that that was a chuckle that meant 'you're gonna regret that.'

but, really, you should've known you got let off the hook too easily. that his finger rubbing a few circles into your warm skin wasn't nearly enough of a punishment for your sassy comment. that he guided you over to the table by the small of your back and told you to sit too innocently.

and now, in the middle of dinner, you feel his hand on your knee and creeping up towards your thigh. you look over at him warily, the boys deep in a heavy debate about boxers versus briefs.

"what are you doing?" you whispered to him, half tempted to jab your fork into his leg at the lust starting to build in your veins.

"what do you think?" he says through clenched teeth, his strong hand cupping your thigh and causing a breathy exhale to leave your mouth. it's so tight and high on your thigh that you can't help but squirm, feeling especially on edge since they're are three people literally right in front of you.

"if you're really thinking about fingering me under this table, i'm gonna-"

and like he's trying to continually prove to you his sole purpose is to piss you off, his hand slips through your shorts and slowly rubs you over your wet thong. "just playing a little" he says lowly into your ear. "but you're not coming. and you're not allowed to pull that shit again in your room. do you hear me?"

"i don't think you're in any position to-"

his hand is quick to push right into your underwear and cup you, his finger rapidly flicking at your clit and a moan leaves your mouth that you cover with multiple coughs.

"you good, y/n?" he asks innocently next to you, the three boys turning to check as well. you side-eye him in disgust, how he sounds so calm and composed despite the shit he's doing to you right now.

"fine," you grunt out breathily, san raising an eyebrow before wooyoung's loud voice screeches at him. and then again, loud outbursts and conversations are back and successfully drown out the shaky breaths and low hums leaving you.

your legs start to spread wider as pleasure builds between your legs, your hand absentmindedly reaching over to palm him.

"no," he growls in your ear, "don't even fucking try it."

and because he's brought you to this pathetic, submissive side, you pout as you pull your hand.

"are you close?" he asks, his finger sliding inside you nearly making your head loll to the side. "are my fingers fucking you well?" but he knows they are, knows you're close and knows just how to curl them and play with your clit to have your legs shaking and pussy clenching around him.

"next time you wanna pull that shit, remember this," he growls, ripping his hand from you suddenly and successfully depriving you of the orgasm that was deliciously building. you almost cry out in frustration, about ready to beg and plead and do whatever he wants to make you come.

but then he gets up to start clearing the plates and washing the dishes, his teasing eyes watching you for the rest of the night; the blush on your cheeks and the frustration in your eyes never fails to make him smirk. and then when you leave later that night, he whispers one more warning to behave in your ear.

"why should i?" you growl, irritated and beyond frustrated at the wet ache between your legs.

"because i said so," he tells you, lifting your chin with his hand. "the next time you come, it's gonna be me doing it."

and it's with that comment right there that makes him step out of his apartment a few nights later. because around 1:00 a.m., he hears the familiar jingling of your keys in the hallway and your softly spoken voice asking a person to leave.

"c'mon, babe, i walked you home," the male voice says, "the least you could do-"

he doesn't hear the rest, ripping open his door and peeking out at you two. he can tell immediately you're uncomfortable, if the plain fear and disgust in your eyes wasn't obvious enough.

"the least she could do is what?" jongho asks lowly, stepping towards the guy and staring at him challengingly. "she doesn't owe you shit."

"who the fuck are you?" the guy asks, voice dripping with hostility. "mind your business."

jongho's fists clench, tension overcoming him and about ready to punch this guy square in the face. because if there's one thing he hates more than men like this, it's people telling him to mind their own business when they're doing something wrong.

"i don't think she wants you here," is all jongho says, cooly, calmly, a complete contrast to how he's really feeling. "so how 'bout you leave now?"

the guy only lifts his brow, sensing something slightly unhinged and dangerous in jongho's tone and gaze. in the way he crossed his arms over his chest and is clenching his hands into a fist.

"whatever," he mumbles, throwing you one last dirty look before stalking off toward the elevator. you and jongho don't speak until you hear the doors close, just looking at one another with a mix of heat, curiosity and gratefulness.

"thanks," you mumble lowly, "i gave him my number a few weeks ago and he happened to see me when i was walking home."

"careful," jongho mumbles, "he's a fuckin' creep."

a small chuckle leaves your mouth as you nod your head, your tongue coming out to lick your lips nervously. you hadn't seen or talked to him since he fingered you under his dining room table, deprived you of your orgasm and then said you weren't allowed to...relieve yourself.

so, yeah, there's a bit of the elephant in the room.

"apparently so," you say, smiling softly as you look at him. the tension between you is palpable, long heated gazes and slightly shaky breaths. the wall behind you a reminder of the first time all of this started. his arms crossed over his chest with clenched hands is a reminder of what exactly they can do, the way your legs are nearly wobbling from how badly the ache has been between them.

"did you eat yet?" you find yourself asking. it's quick and awkward and blurted out so randomly, you think you might've as well said hey, let's go inside so we can finally fuck.

and even though the smirk on his face says he knows it too, he doesn't say anything but "no, i haven't eaten yet."

"i was gonna order chinese," you tell him, "do you wanna...come in and i'll buy you some? as a thank you?" he nods his head silently and you smile back, turning around to unlock your apartment. but then the second you open your door, he pushes you inside and quickly follows you in. he closes the door behind you and promptly pushes you up against it.

"buy me dinner as a thank you?" he says teasingly, "that's the best you could think of?"

your cheeks flush at getting caught but you're somewhat beyond the point of even caring. because even if you wanted to get off, it wouldn't be the same. after feeling his strong hands and hearing his low teasing voice, nothing else will leave you feeling fulfilled.

"why not just tell me straight up you want me to get you off?"

"i want you to get me off," you snap, boldly and confidently despite the way you're trapped up against the door. "happy now?"

the smirk on his face widens, his hand trailing down the curves of your body slowly and teasingly. it makes your sensitive, heightened self tingle and burn, a whine threatening to leave your mouth.

"depends," he hums, "were you good? i didn't hear anything but that doesn't mean you weren't sneaky." his hands trails over your thigh and between your legs and you don't know which one of you is more grateful that you're wearing a dress.

because while it allows him easy access, it also allows him to feel just how ready and wet you are. your thighs and thong already soaked from days of being pathetically aroused.

"you didn't, did you?" he asks with a smirk, shoving your underwear down and dress up when you whine out a shaky "i didn't."

"i can tell," he says, dropping to his knees as he bunches up your dress. "hold this," his voice deeply commands, his own arousal and lust taking over now. because now he's face to face with your dripping pussy and can basically smell the desperation on you. all because you waited and listened to him.

and then you nearly scream when his hands push down on your hips and his mouth connects with your clit. you moan out over and over as he licks and sucks and eats you out like a starved man, your legs shaking and threatening to collapse had it not been for his tight hold on you.

your one hand is holding your dress while the other is in his hair, tugging and pulling and moving him closer into you as your back is pressed hard against your door. and then, like all of that wasn't enough, you look down at him and find yourself begging him to fuck you.

he stops immediately, pulling his face back and looking up at you. your eyes are dark with lust and arousal, cheeks red and hair a mess from begin pressed against the metal.

"you sure?" he asks, his own excitement brewing in him. he only planned on making you come over and over, with his tongue and fingers and then relieving himself by his own hand again later that night.

but now as you beg "yes please," he's jumping up to tug off his pants and boxers before wrapping his arms around you and lifting you up. and that's how you end up christening your apartment door, his cock pounding in and out of you as your body knocks into the door.

"isn't this what you wanted?" he growled in your ear, "this whole time you just wanted to be fucked like the good girl you are."

and when you moan out his name again and again, you're not able to see the irony of this all. how for months you've berated this man and gave him shit about keeping the neighbors up.

"i knew it! i fucking knew it!" wooyoung says from his apartment, hearing your muffled screams and yelps of jongho's name. "i can't wait to tell her how inconsiderate she's being."