#and then there’s Shin who gives the best fuck me eyes of all time

[oceansssblue]

Perhaps, tech and cross being twins ,,,, chaos vibes.

Perhaps tbb twins and the domino twins getting into trouble together

Mmm... Fun little idea sparkling! ✨😈

Xx, Blue.

PS. Still acepting xmas clone reqs!

"CHAOS COMES IN PAIRS"

– NO ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP.

– FEATURING: TECH, CROSSHAIR, FIVES, ECHO. 💖

WARNINGS: CROSSHAIR CURSES A LOT. TINY PHYSICAL (PLAYFULL) FIGHT.

"I've found another set" Fives proudly proclaims, stepping into the empty office his brother had chosen to hide in in order to study his eleventh manual of the month without anyone interrupting him.

Too bad; Fives is a man on a quest.

"A set of what?" Echo asks, glancing up at him over his datapad with a suspicious look on his face.

He knows his brother well enough by now to guess Fives is planning something; and he's looking for a partner in crime. No matter how ridiculous his ideas are, Echo has the strange tendency to tag along. Fives has mastered the art of convincing him.

"Another set of twins, brother of mine" Fives almost sings, an excited grin on his lips. "And right in time for Life Day".

Echo chuckles; eyes shinning in recognition. They have a little tradition, him and Fives; each year, on Life Day, they try to prank another set of clone twins. It had started as a silly joke when they were children; with Echo mumbling twins weren't even a rarity in Kamino anymore and a mischiveous Fives trying to cheer him up and stating that at least they should try to make sure they were the coolest and best known ones. It had moved towards a small plan to mess with other twins from time to time –just innocent playfull games, nothing major– and spiraled from there. Nowadays, Fives and Echo's almost eternal twin rivalry was a known funny story in the GAR.

"What company are they in?" Echo asks with interest, for once abandoning his reading and paying undivided atention to Fives.

The clone grins as if he had been waiting for this specific question all the time.

"They're not even on one" he corrects. "Have you ever heard of the bad batch?"

Echo frowns in confusion; trying to figure out where had he heard that before, why it sounded so familiar. Then an image pops in his head; and Echo's eyes widen in surprise.

"They are twins?" He asks in disbelief. "But they're so different!"

Fives laughs.

"Well, it's not obviously "long hair" and the big guy, but the other two... It's just haircut, tattoos and googles, really".

Echo snorts. Fives continues with his monologue.

"Personality and attitude changes one's physique so much, vod'ika. That's why I'm the handsome twin".

Echo rolls his eyes. He turns on his datapad and slumps down on the chair again.

"Alright, Fives. The smart, realistic twin will come get you when he comes up with a plan of action" he deadpans, sarcasm heavy in his tongue.

Fives has to have the last word. After all, he is the annoying one...

"Ah, Echo, you're gonna' make me blush".

"This is fucking discusting" Crosshair hisses, an angry, irritated expresion perked on his face, dragging his feet inside the Batch's barraks.

"For once I find your words completely accurate" Tech agrees, following him.

They're both covered in some sort of red slime. They had been attempting to give a fresh layer of paint to their armours; but someone had replaced the red paint for a stickier substance, and it had been impossible to get rid of it. It somehow stuck to the skin; a viscous, unpleasant feeling they couldn't wait to take off.

Crosshair was the first to jump on the shower.

"What karking material is even this? And who the fuck waisted their time to pull this on us?"

Tech hums while methodically folding his clothes into a pile.

"I suspect this substance is a mix of Naboo's Faera's flower pollen and the usual starch and glue they often use in children's toys" he explains, hopping in his own shower as well. "As for the later... I have two solid main suspects, but I shall slice into Kamino's security system to confirm it".

Crosshair asks him to elaborate and then just listens. Tech jumps into a long argument based on his proofs, knowledge and deductions; and when he finishes, there's a weird smile perched on his face. Crosshair doesn't think he's ever seen that expresion on him; wasn't even aware his face could do that.

"The fuck are you smiling for?" the gray-haired clone snaps.

Tech ignores his sharp tone and suggests "we could always prank them back".

Cross is shocked into silence, not expecting this need for childish revenge to come from his mature, level-headed brother; but he can see a dangerous glint in Tech's eyes through his yellow googles, and the idea sparks excitement in the snipers heart.

"I think it's time for you to show off your brain game, Tech" Crosshair smirks. "This Echo and Fives won't even know what hit them".

Tech dries his body with a towel and quickly slip into his nightglove.

"I'll have a plan by tomorrow".

Crosshair rests in his bunk that night with a satisfied smile on his face. "Fuck those regs" he thinks, right before falling asleep.

Tech hacks into the 501st barraks and unlocks the door for Crosshair; and the sniper uses his quiet stealth to move through the bunks and cuddle piles without being discovered –and in a room full of soldiers, that's saying something–. He carefully places the small stickers on each of the regs' foreheads with a similar haircut to Fives and Echo; replicating the first's only distintive tattoo on everyone else.

When the troopers wake up the next day and start to interact with each other, inmediately mistaking others for Fives a million times –a confused, lost expresion on their faces– Tech and Crosshair are laughing their asses off watching the scene from the safety of their barraks.

"Oh, that was great".

In the screen of their datapad, the real Fives bursts into laughter. The trooper turns to the other Domino; and grins happily.

"Seems like we've got competition this year, vod'ika. We've got work to do".

As always happens with this kind of things, the pranks escalate. In the few days prior to Life Day, the two set of twins find dozens of ways to mess with each other; from hair dye –Fives thinks Crosshair looks fabulous in pink– , to stealing armour –Echo almost suffers a heart attack at that–, and fashionably decorating each others barraks. A bet starts going around; of which pair would pull the last prank before kaminoans force them to stop the circus.

On Life Day, the bad batch twins arrive to the mess hall covered in multicolor glitter –a half irritated, half resigned expresion on their face–; and the Dominos are estatic to see them. Echo is the one who planned this, and Fives executioned it perfectly. Glitter is one of the most annoying things to try to get rid off; and it quickly spreads everywhere.

"Looks like we've got two new shinies joining us for breakfeast today!" Fives shouts, grinning wildly, further teasing them.

Echo has a smug smile on his face as well. Troopers around them snort and laugh in amusement.

"I'm going to kill him" Crosshair hisses, and to be honest, not even Tech feels the need to stop him.

Crosshair tackles Fives to the floor; the reg making a surprised sound before laughing and blocking his puch, twisting the two of them around. Tech inmediately jumps to help his twin, trying to inmovilize the clone from his back; though Echo is quick to intercept him and join the fight.

A small circle forms inmediately around them; new bets being made while everyone cheer for their favorites. They aim for the other twins to get inmovilized and forced to surrender more than to make each other bleed. This is nothing but common clone traditions; playfull fighting.

It's only when the trainers separate them that they're able to properly see the state the four troopers are in; covered in glitter from head to toes, panting slightly. Upon identifying the Dominos, the trainers roll their eyes, walking away; all but one of them, who shoot the four clones a disaproving, annoyed glance.

"Get rid of this new fashion choice" he snaps, glancing at the glitter on Crosshair's hair. "And make sure this is all cleaned up for when I come back. You're all on cleaning duty for a month".

The silver haired clone shoots him an irritated side eye; but they all take the punishment in stride.

When the trainer leaves, Fives turns towards the Batch twins.

"Good prank war, vods" he offers with a satisfied smile.

Crosshair looks them up and down.

"Not to bad for some regs" he condeeds.

Fives draps an arm over Echo's shoulders. They're both sporting matching grins.

"We're the best of 'em. We'll be ARC's in no time".

For the present being, they would enjoy Life Day.

THE END.

[buriedinmyownfeelings]

I guess this is just a weekly thing now

Just when I think I couldn’t love them more something like this happens

[rowarn]

cw: gun play, throat fucking with a gun im sorry, simon coming untouched, masturbation (reader) I NEEDED TO GET THIS OUT OF MY BRAIN SO unedited

simon with a gun kink that he's kept hidden would be crazy.

imagine ur big, beefy husband coming home after a long deployment. he's tense, his fists are clenched tight and it's clear he's got a ton of steam he needs to blow off.

at first, you expect a normal night together of him plowing you into the mattress so hard that the bed creaks and hits the wall with every thrust. the kind of fucking that leaves you trembling for 15 minutes after you've finished and cleaned up. the kind that has him pulling you into his arms to soothe and coo at.

but something is different this time.

he starts removing his gear one by one as usual but instead of removing the holster with his gun and safely placing it down, he unholsters the gun completely.

you're watching with bated breath as he unloads the weapon, carefully pulling it back and peering into the chamber. you're watching his hands move, admiring how strong his fingers are and how the veins in his hands bulge out with every movement

you deviously excited by the time he approaches you -- the gun still in his hand.

he brings it up, placing the nozzle against your chin, finger hovering off the the trigger. but you know how well-trained he is -- how good he is at his job. you know that he could have that finger on the trigger in a milisecond, faster than you would even be able to comprehend.

"open," he orders, a voice that sends shivers down your spine. it's firm, rough, authoritative. it's a tone you imagine he uses when he's on the field.

soliders bow to his every whim and you're no better. but unlike those who are trained to obey him because it's their job -- you obey him because you know if you do, you'll get the sweetest reward in the world; that thick, full cock still hidden in his pants.

your panties are already wet and sticky and your brain’s already feeling fuzzy by the time you open your mouth. 

the shock of cold is the first thing you recognize followed by the tang of metal as the weapon settles on your tongue. your lashes flutter as you look up at your husband, face still obscured by his balaclava but his pretty, brown eyes burn holes into you nevertheless.

he slowly and carefully slides the gun deeper into your mouth until it presses against the back of your throat and you involuntarily gag. a groan rips from his cheeks as he watches the tears gather on your lashline.

"that's it, pretty," he coos, "bet you wish that was my cock huh?" you nod your head as best you can with the weapon lodged in your throat, "maybe i'll give it to you if you put on a real nice show for me."

his words take a moment to register in your fuzzy brain but once they do, your hand is flying down between your legs at record speed. you slip it beneath the band of your panties, barely lifting his shirt that you're wearing out of the way so you can finally find relief in the ache that has settled in your cunt.

your folds are wet and sticky as they part around your fingers and you struggle to swallow around the gun in your mouth. there's no give to the metal and drool begins to dribble down your shin in long, thin strings.

simon's cock is hard, heavy and leaking against his thigh. this has been one of his best kept secrets, to watch you submit to his gun -- to the weapon he has used to murder countless people with.

and here you were, doing as you're told, throating his gun while you play with your pretty cunt. he can hear how wet you are, can see the way you desperately hump your own hand trying to get your fingers deeper and deeper. but they'll never feel as good as his, you both know this.

so all you can do is tearfully look up at him through clumped lashes as you choke and gag on the gun he continues to keep stuffed down your throat.

his cock throbs at the thought of being where his weapon is now. he envies it.

you mutter something, muffled and incomprehensible but he knows what you're saying. he can see the way your pupils blow out, hear the way your breathing grows erratic and choppy. you're trembling and breathless, messily jerking your hips into your own hand as you desperately look up at him -- begging for anything to push you over the edge.

his finger finally lands on the trigger of his gun and he sees your eyes widen but the desperate, teary look you give him only tells him more of what you need.

there's a muted, empty click when he pulls the trigger. the gun is empty, you both know this -- but it sends you over the edge anyway.

simons cock twitches and twitches, balls tight and heavy before he's spurting his load down his thigh at the sight of you cumming on your own fingers and moaning around his gun.

the hand holding the weapon trembles as he cums untouched at the entire scene. you pull your head back, gasping for air before pulling your hand out of your panties.

simon lurches forward, you don't even have time to react before he's taking the sticky, messy, cum-covered fingers into his mouth.

he's on top of you, pressing you down beneath his weight, the gun tossed and forgotten on the bed because now all he can think about is fucking you into the mattress. <3

[hysteria-things]

can you do a smut with dom!nate x sturniolo triplets sister where they're at a restaurant with the triplets and nate starts fingering her idc abt anything else but like please im begging you 🙏🙏

FORGIVE ME

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!nate x sls!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: being friends with benefits with your triplet brothers’ best friend isn’t the smartest idea. especially when nate teases you at a restaurant with your siblings there, there’s only one way to forgive him.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, swearing, mentions underage drinking, fingering, public, oral (female/male receiving), p in v

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,277

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: first sturniolo’s little sister fic���� i find this trope fun LOL

i miss why don’t we they were MY one direction.

hope you like it anon!

a burger sounds so good right now. you think to yourself before being rudely interrupted when a foot taps your shin from under the table. your annoyed eyes are met with chris’. “what are you getting?” he asks.

you shrug, continuing to scan the menu in front of you. “probably a bacon cheeseburger.”

your triplet brothers invited you out to dinner at the finest establishment around: texas roadhouse.

they picked up nathan along the way, who’s sitting silently next to you as the other three are squished in the booth across from you. the four of you are close and know everything about each other, which is the best kind of sibling relationship.

well, they think they know everything about you.

what they don’t — and will never know — is your friends with benefits with nate.

it started randomly at a high school party, where the two of you got drunk and made out which led to you guys fucking in the bathroom. it’s bizarre but true.

turns out, the two of you enjoyed it and this whole thing went on from there. that was months ago, by the way.

while taking a sip of your shirley temple, a hand is placed on your thigh. you look over to the culprit, who is talking casually to your siblings.

his hand teasingly moves up and down, each time getting closer to your waistband. your breath hitches as the waitress comes over. “are you guys ready?” she asks in her customer service voice, smiling as she clicks her pen.

“you go first, y/n.” nate says innocently, taking his fingers and now putting them in your pants to rub hard on your clit. he knows you love getting penetration there.

little shithead.

you clear your throat. “c-can i have a bacon cheeseburger, please?”

the waitress nods, writing on her notepad. “with what side?”

you feel two fingers going inside your wetness, moving at a medium pace. “mmm— fries!” you say loud and quickly. you clear your throat again. “please.”

the three across from you give the same weird look, as if silently saying ‘what the fuck is the matter with you?’

soon, the others put their orders in and go into their conversations. nate keeps pumping his fingers in and out of you, a low whimper leaving your mouth.

when he knows your brothers aren’t listening because they’re arguing about whatever the fuck, he scoots closer to you and leans to your ear. “you’re so wet, baby. is it all for me?”

you grip his wrists, trying to pull him away when you feel your orgasm approaching. it’ll be embarrassing to cum in your pants. “nate—”

“you’re coming back to our house, right?” nick asks, causing nate to pull out his fingers and readjust in his seat.

“yup,” he replies, giving your thigh a tight squeeze.

you storm into your bedroom, nate following closely behind. you shut the door and lock it, putting your hands on your hips and tapping your foot like an angry parent. “are you trying to get us caught? what were you thinking?!”

he chuckles. “cut me some slack, will ya?”

he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close to where your chests touch. you try your best to give him your best mad face, but to him, you look adorable. “i’m sorry.” he fake pouts.

he tugs at your shirt and slowly lifts it over your head, throwing it somewhere on the ground. his lips are mere centimeters from yours. “forgive me?”

“we don’t have time. they’ll get suspicious,” you whisper.

he shakes his head, now taking off his shirt. “they think the texas roadhouse got to the best of me. i’ll be in the bathroom for a while.” he winks, pecking your lips.

you bite your lip, not losing eye contact when you start to unbuckle his jeans. “i don’t think i forgive you.” you say sweetly, getting on your knees and simultaneously pulling his pants down.

“guess i’ll have to see.” you continue, eyeballing his hard-on through his boxer. you start to rub your hand over the fabric, a groan leaving nate’s mouth.

you give the tip a little kiss before pulling down his underwear, his dick aching for attention. you wrap your mouth around him, going as much as you can down his base.

moistening his lips, he throws his head back. he always loved the feeling of your warm mouth around him.

you start to bob your head, the gulping noises intensifying the faster you go. “shit.” nate exhales, taking his finger and lifting your chin so you can look at him.

he starts to thrust his hips to match your bobs, gagging in the process.

he pulls out of your mouth and in the blink of an eye, he flips you so you lay on your back. despite your bed being quite literally a foot away from you guys, he’s now on the ground with you between your legs. “forgive me yet?”

“n—” you don’t finish the word when he starts to dig into you without warning. even better, he takes his thumb and plays with your clit like how he did at the restaurant.

you moan too loudly, covering your mouth with your palm. the last thing you want is for your brothers to hear you. your other hand travels to nate’s head, grasping onto his hair tightly. “i’m close.” you mumble, making him pull away.

“what the hell?” you sigh annoyingly.

“shush.” he says, flipping you over once again to where you are now straddling his lap. “ride me.”

you smirk, kissing on his neck down to his chest. he grows impatient, lifting your hips and playing yourself on his cock. you whine, leaning back up straight and grinding your hips to feel him rub the right way on your walls.

“fuck.” you whimper. he grabs your hips and starts to bounce you, a squeal coming out of you. “nathan, fuck!”

“best be quiet, baby.” he smirks. “don’t want them to hear their little sister on their best friend’s dick.”

you whine lowly, biting your lip to quiet your moans. he sits up and you grab both sides of his neck, looking deep into each other’s eyes. he’s smiling smugly, but your face is contorting with pleasure.

he groans when he twitches inside of you.

“did nate fall asleep on the toilet?” matt’s voice echoes down the hallway, three pairs of footsteps along with it.

“the ribs probably gave him food poisoning or some shit.” chris replies.

nate moves you faster on him, panting lowly in the process. there’s no way he can stop now. he’s way too close.

the doorknob shakes, startling the both of you, but you guys keep going. “what the fuck? why is your door locked?” nick asks.

“fuck y/n, i’m cum—” you swallow his words by giving him an opened-mouthed kiss. you moan softly into his mouth, making sure you cum first before lifting yourself off of him.

he groans into your mouth when his cum makes a mess on his abs. “hello? earth to y/n?”

you pull away, staying in position to quietly catch your breath. “s-sorry, what?” you stammer.

“why is your door locked?” this time, the question is asked by matt.

“changing,” you answer, nate giggling silently.

there’s an awkward silence for a few beats before it's broken. “okay…” nick says in a hesitant manner, and their footsteps eventually recede.

“holy shit.” nate throws his head back to laugh, and you smack him on the chest.

“be quiet,” you mumble, getting off from the floor.

thank god you locked the door, or things could’ve ended terribly.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld

[beenbaanbuun]

brothers best friend w/ yunho

this isn’t proof read so sorry for any typos… i’m just too tired to do that right now 😓

you’ve been pummelling the door of your brothers apartment with the side of your fist from at least a couple of minutes now

whether he’s deciding to play a practical joke and leave you hanging is a mystery to you

you can only hope he somehow manages to grow up and let you in soon

it’s an emergency, and the strap of your overnight bag is digging into your shoulder rather painfully

“mingi, i know you’re in there,” you call as you slam the palm of your hand loudly against the wood, “let me in or i’ll tell mum you’re being a bitch!”

threats of your mother usually seem to work; it’s mingi’s fear of your younger sibling privilege, you suppose

he knows that no matter what, he’ll always be the one to blame since he’s older

a system you’ve been abusing for years, you have to admit

the door swings open after a few seconds, and you gear yourself up to give your big brother an earful for being a dick

but just as you open your mouth, you notice that the man that opened the door is in fact not mingi but his roommate and best friend instead

yunho

he’s leaning against the door frame, gaming headset around his neck and plaid pyjama pants hanging low over his hips

it would take a much stronger woman than you to avoid looking at his toned chest, so you let your eyes do a swoop over his smooth skin

“hey, kiddo,” you can hear the smirk in yunho’s voice, “what’s got you banging my door down at 10 minutes to midnight? you know my neighbours won’t appreciate this, right?”

you ignore him

“is my brother in?” yunho shakes his head before leaning himself against the door frame

the way he effortlessly towers over you even when he’s relaxed sends shivers right the way through you, all of them congregating at the apex of your thighs

trust you to be harbouring a debilitating crush on your brothers best friend…

“where is he then?” you urge

“with his latest conquest,” yunho just shrugs like it’s obvious

like you should know that your brother was busy sleeping around in your time of need

you’d gag if you didn’t have more important things on your mind; more important things like what the fuck you’re going to do now

“dammit,” you mutter before readjusting the strap of your overnight bag on your shoulder, “i was hoping he’d let me crash for the night…”

he snorts out a laugh, digging his tongue into the side of his cheek as he stares you down

“doesn’t the guy you’re fucking live like… 5 minutes away from here?”

yunho knows as well as anyone that you and taehyun are not fucking, but that doesn’t mean he won’t tease you just to see that angry look on your face

the way your forehead scrunches and your lips purse into a tiny little pout

holy fuck you’re adorable; what he wouldn’t do to just—

“me and tae fell out,” you spit, your voice muffled through your upset frown, “and we’re not fucking…”

yunho laughs, “not anymore, anyway.”

he dodges the kick you aim at his shins with ease, sliding to the side just in time for you to lose your balance and fall through the doorway

you catch yourself before you can faceplant in front of the man who had been single-handedly ruining your life since you first met him

god knows that the devilishly handsome man would never shut up about it if you tripped in front of him

“enjoy your trip?” he teases as he shuts the front door behind you, trapping you inside of his apartment

he makes a show of locking it before slipping the key into his pyjama pocket

it’s a clear show of dominance to let you know exactly who is in charge

you roll your eyes at him, letting him know that his performance is redundant; you’re in his apartment, of course he’s in charge

“mingi locks his door when he’s not here so you’ll have to sleep on the couch,” he points to the ratty leather thing that sits in the centre of the room

you grimace at the sight of it, knowing that this might just be the worst night sleep of your life

the pealing leather is bound to scratch at your skin, and you just know you’re going to have to peel your skin off of it when you wake up in the morning

you can’t help it when you groan in complaint

“or you can sleep in my bed,” yunho offers, that mischievous smile rising to his face again, “it’s warm and comfy; much nicer than that old thing.”

“are you just trying to get me into your bed?”

he scoffs, “i would dream of it, kid?”

he knows you hate that nickname… he says it with an arrogant look written all over his features

you want to punch that annoying hot smile right off of his annoyingly hot face, despite the fact that mingi would kill you

you want to sleep on the couch just to spite him, despite the fact that you know you’ll wake up feeling half dead

you want to leave and sleep on the cold, wet tarmac outside, despite the fact that that would be an even worse night

a deep breath of air fills your lungs and you let it out with a sigh

“i’ll sleep in your bed, but be warned; i carry pepper spray!”

again, yunho finds it a struggle to hold his laughter in

how can he when you’re so cute? so adorably naive with your little pout and your fucking pepper spray

you’re dumb to think that he can’t see the way you look at him; like he holds your entire world in the palms of his hands

if it weren’t for your brother, he might’ve done something by now

it’s hard to hit when the girl you so desperately want is your friends little sister

“i’m sure you do, sweetheart,” he hums out through his smile, “go get changed, alright? ill be in my room when you’re finished.”

you nod and drop your bag to the floor, your little hands immediately going to unzip it

he wonders what they might look like wrapped around his cock, your prettily manicured nails glittering as your fingers dance up and down his shaft

he looks away for the sake of his own sanity and slips his hands into his pockets in the hopes of hiding the tent that’s forming

god, he needs to get a grip

“bathrooms over there,” he clears his throat before continuing, “take your time; it’s not like i’m rushing to get to sleep or anything.”

and then he leaves you in the sheer hopes that turning his back on you and heading back to his PC will clear his head of all the disgusting thoughts he’s having

the gaming chair creeks under his weight as he flops down into it, slipping his headphones over his ears straight away

his finger moves over to his keyboard to unmute his discord and—

“i did not make us lose,” he hears the shrill screech of wooyoung, “if anything it’s san’s fault for not res-ing me! i was in need!”

“yeah and i had other priorities!” san scoffs, “jongho is a better player; obviously i’d res him first!”

“i can’t belie—”

“hey, yun,” jongho calls out over the argument, “i’m assuming the knocking wasn’t a mass murderer since you’re still alive.”

the other two shut up pretty quickly, both uttering their own cheerful greetings to yunho as if they weren’t at each others throats two seconds prior

yunho chuckles

“it was mingi’s sister,” he hums, “she’s in the area and needs a place to stay for the night.”

he’s met with a symphony of appreciative hums from the three of his friends; yunho had learnt a while back that he wasn’t alone in his feelings for her

“it’s so unfair that she’s off limits,” san sighs dreamily, “if i got my hands on her, even just for one night… i’d put those pretty lips to work, that’s for sure.”

san’s right, your lips are pretty; like two flower petals begging to be touched and appreciated

“sure, dude,” jongho interrupts, “her lips are pretty and all but have you seen her thighs? i’m pretty sure she could crush my skull with those things…”

“and you’d be into that?” san questions, a shocked laugh evident in his tone

“hey, don’t shame him,” wooyoung cuts in, “i’d love for a little brat like her to sit on my face; i could tease her for hours down there…”

there’s a swift knock on yunho’s bedroom door and he immediately presses deafen on his headset before sliding it off once more

his cheeks are covered in a deep red flush, his friends words echoing around his skull as he turns in his chair to watch you slip into the room

oh fuck

he can’t help the way his jaw drops, but then again, even the strongest man on the planet would have a difficult time

especially with you in those tiny little shorts

for someone who claims not to be fucking the guy you were supposed to be staying with, your outfit choice sure is… something

they’re thin and cover next to none of your thighs; jongho was right about them, yunho muses to himself

thick and plush and your flesh jiggles with every step you take towards his bed

he’d be happy to lie between them, he thinks, face in your pussy as you squeeze his head with those gorgeous limbs

he swallows the lump in his throat as you sit politely on his mattress

“i’m sorry about my shorts,” you mutter, a little self conscious with how intently yunho was staring at them, “i know they’re not really… appropriate.”

yunho shakes his head, dazed, confused and horny

“they’re perfect,” he mutters before he can realise what he’s saying, “i mean they’re fine… just fine…”

“they’re fine?” you confirm

he nods

“i mean they look comfy; that’s all that matters, right?” he shrugs nonchalantly as if he’s not thinking about how it would feel to rip the flimsy material off of you

he’s starting to regret asking you to share a bed with him

how the fuck he’s going to sleep with you laying next to him, he isn’t too sure

yunho takes a deep breath before clearing his throat

“if you want to head to sleep, i’ll be right there. i just want to play another round with the boys.”

you nod before crawling into his bed… crawling

he can’t even focus on how sweet you are when you’re obeying his every command

not when your ass is facing him and those tiny shorts are doing nothing to hide the fact that you’re clearly not wearing underwear beneath them

they cling to your sticky—holy fuck you’re wet?—core, the white material going translucent as your slick soaks into it

he can’t tear his eyes away from your hole, which he can fucking see clenching around nothing through those teeny-tiny shorts

it’s a good job he doesn’t have to; before he can lose his mind and rip those shorts from your body, you’re covering yourself with his thick quilt

the way you wrap yourself up and tuck the material between your knees would be cute if he hadn’t just had his soul destroyed by the sight of your pretty pussy

a few deep breaths, and he finds the courage to turn back around to his pc and press un-deafen once more

but even with the sounds of his friends chattering in the background, and his fingers eagerly dancing across his keyboard, he can’t help but let him mind wander to you

what you’d look like underneath him, your face all screwed up in pleasure as you beg him for more

how you’d sound when you beg him for more

how your fingers feel as they dig into the plane of his back

fuck, he’s in so deep

and the worst of it is, it’s not just fucking you that he’s daydreaming about

he wants to know what you’ll look like in the post sex glow, when he has you tucked into his chest so soft and gentle

he knows you’ll be beautiful; so soft and pliant in his arms

he’ll whisper sweet nothings to you just to see you smile and blush

he’ll press soft kisses to your lips just to make you squirm and giggle

god, he needs to be fucking sedated

a quick glance behind him lets him know that you’re asleep; good, he doesn’t want you to hear what he has to say next

“guys,” he helplessly calls out, “what the fuck am i supposed to do?”

“what do you mean?” jongho asks, “is this about mini mingi?”

mini mingi… you couldn’t be further from your brother in yunho’s eyes

he doesn’t want to fuck mingi into the sheets before helplessly confessing his love to him

“yes, this is about her,” yunho relents, “what the fuck am i supposed to do when she’s explicitly off limits?”

“fuck her,” wooyoung says as if it’s the simplest thing in the world, “what mingi doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“he’s my best friend,” yunho groans, sounding pathetic even to his own admission

“okay and?” wooyoung scoffs

yunho slams his head down on the desk in exasperation

it’s soft enough to not make too loud of a noise; he doesn’t want to wake you up, after all

but it’s also hard enough to let the headset slip loose from his ears

and he hears it

something that makes him perk up and rip his headset off for what seems like the hundredth time that night

no… it can’t be

“yunho…”

your voice is small from the other side of the room, but he hears it as if it’s clear as day

you moaned his name

“yunho, need it,” you whine again, every so slightly louder this time

yunho gulps as he spins his chair around to see you, jaw slack, face screwed up and hips bucking into his quilt that you’d secured between your legs

he freezes

“yuyu,” you mewl

yunho can’t help the involuntary groan that comes from his lips

it’s now or never, he decides

he shuts off his pc, not even bothering to say goodbye to his friends—they’d understand—and takes a second to compose himself

sweaty palms rub against the material of his plaid pants as he rises from his seat and takes a few tentative steps towards the bed

the floorboards creek, but it doesn’t wake you

“yu,” your voice is so sweet, he thinks to himself as he comes to a stop by the bed

a hand on your shoulder shakes your body awake, and before yunho knows it, you’re staring up at him with your big wide eyes

fuck, he’s going to destroy you

[look-at-the-soul]

Every little thing you do- Prologue

Tommy Shelby x reader (Mini series)

Summary: Y/N has been Tommy’s best friend since childhood. She had always been there for him when he needed her the most. Now as the Shelby family are in a better position, Y/N will need Tommy’s support when something she didn’t expect happens.

A/N welcome to this little new adventure! This story started as an idea @lyarr24 shared a while ago and I just stared at it for a few minutes until the ideas started “appearing” in my mind. This particular part turned somehow into a comedy show on its own 😂🤭 it was fun and light to write, but it’s going to get angsty… thank you for sharing your unique ideas as usual! It took me some time but I’m always into giving each story it’s own time. And of course @justrainandcoffee thank you for creating this beautiful moodboard for this story! You totally nailed it!

Word count: 2,196

Arriving at the Garrison, Y/N headed straight towards the private booth where the Shelby’s were reunited.

“You should’ve seen the look in Polly’s eyes when she found out we were buying the stallion.” John cracked and threw his head back with a loud laugh.

Arthur winked at Y/N and decided to mess with his brother.

“Erm John boy.” He cleared his throat, just as Tommy gave Y/N a smirk, they were both sitting facing the door unlike John who had his back at it.

Tommy used the chance to kick his youngest brother in the shin, as a warning.

“So you think it’s fucking hilarious John Michael Shelby.” Y/N imitated Polly’s voice and mannerisms perfectly.

John’s face paled as the smile left his face and he straightened his back.

Arthur snorted and then started laughing uncontrollably as John turned around to find Y/N standing by the door.

“Shit! Y/N you scared the fuck out of me.”

“Get in here sweetheart.” Arthur called for her, making room next to him. “That was brilliant, you’ve got a talent.”

“You sound just like her.” Ada praised, leaning over the table to kiss her cheek.

“You’re late.” Tommy offered her a glass of whiskey.

Taking a sip, she nodded. “The lady I work for had a terrible day, didn’t want me to leave.” She replied titling her head to the side because Arthur was right in the middle, sandwiched between her and Tommy.

“And how did it go?” He asked over the laughs of his siblings.

“My feet are killing me, I had to walk all the way back… but I really needed a drink tonight.

“Why? Scott didn’t pick you up?” He raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

Against his best judgment, he agreed to give Y/N’s boyfriend a place among the peaky men. He didn’t like or trusted him but he was doing it for Y/N and the friendship they’ve always had. Over time, he even gave Scott a car under the condition to drop and pick up Y/N from her work every day.

“We had an argument this morning, he got pissed and I asked him to not.” She lied.

She knew how protective Tommy could get, specially around Scott. They were already past the phase where Tommy would’ve to intervene and put her boyfriend in his place, then Scott would come for her arguing that she let that gangster say and do whatever he pleased.

But Tommy knew Y/N better than that, and this wasn’t the first time she lied to cover for her boyfriend’s attitude.

“What’s so funny?” Polly demanded to know as she joined them in the booth. Staring at Arthur and John’s faces she knew, so she shot Y/N a long look. “You’re imitating me again?!”

The Shelby brothers tried to hide their amusement but all of them failed.

“We wanted to mess up with John, Pol. Sorry.” Y/N looked down embarrassed for being caught.

Polly smiled down at her, it was impossible to stay angry with someone as Y/N.

“Well I hope it was a good one.” The smile grew bigger.

Ada laughed and stood for her aunt to take her place. “You should’ve seen John’s face, he went pale.” Waving at them, she left.

“Hey you need to talk to Finn, he’s getting out of hand these days” Polly warned her nephews. “I asked him to deliver a few letters and he had the audacity to answer he wasn’t a mail boy anymore.”

Tommy shook his head and after a long puff to his cigarette, he answered; “I’ll talk to him.”

Y/N’s chuckle made him look at her. “What? Are you really going to lecture the poor boy? Tom, if I remember correctly, you answered your father something similar back in the day but worse and that caused your first fight.”

Tommy shuddered at the memory. He was so done with his father demanding favors from him and his brother Arthur, so one day he told him he was done with his bullshit and Arthur Sr answered with a curse, threw a glass against the wall and pushed him, Tommy pushed him back. Luckily Arthur Jr and Y/N were close and could intervene to stop them from getting any further.

That night, Y/N stayed with him outside until Tommy had calmed, then she asked her parents, who were neighbors to the Shelby’s if he could sleep on the couch. Y/N’s mother made him some tea and offered him the comfort he wasn’t able to find next door.

They started as neighbors, then Tommy and Y/N became friends until Tommy trusted her blindly. After the war she was the only one who could understand him.

Tommy took a swing of his drink. “You’re not going to tell him that, are you? I’ve a reputation to keep.” He finally added.

“Leave him Pol, the poor boy is probably frustrated because he haven’t had a woman yet.” Arthur chuckled at his own joke.

“Hey,” Y/N called everyone in the room, “leave Finn out, you’re nothing but a bad influence.”

John shook his head and raised his hands as if saying he wasn’t part of it.

“Oh please Mr.-I-want-to-marry-Lizzie-Stark, really?” Y/N raised her eyebrow at him.

“Tommy! Why the hell did you tell her?!” John exploded against his brother, who was already laughing out loud, head thrown back.

Polly had to look twice at her nephew, his guard was down he seemed to be relaxed for once. Since the war he had changed a lot, the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“And besides, I corrected my path, married to Esme didn’t I?” John mumbled chewing on his toothpick.

Y/N nodded, deciding to leave that conversation, it’s was funny to tease John. “I better go now, it’s getting late.”

Tommy was on his feet the second she announced her plans.

“C’mon I’ll drive you.” Tommy offered his best friend.

Giving Polly a hug, she waved at the Shelby brothers goodbye.

After driving for a while, Y/N noticed Tommy took another route.

“Before you ask me,” Tommy spoke softly, “I’m going to show you something.”

She opened and closed her mouth. “You’re so mysterious.”

Tilting his head, Tommy clicked his tongue. “When you see it, you’ll understand.”

“Is it the new horse?” Y/N asked impatiently.

Tommy shook his head and passed her the cigarettes and matches to light it. “Why don’t you tell me what happened with Scott?”

“Something really stupid, he got pissed over nothing.”

“Really? Tell me something I don’t know already.”

Y/N sighed and took her time to exhale the smoke out of the window. “He asked me to ask you for some money, when I told him that he still owed you from the last time he got furious at me.”

“But you gave me the money for that loan.” Tommy’s eyebrows knitted in confusion.

“I did, but it wasn’t his money.” Y/N explained embarrassed after confessing Tommy the truth.

It was now time for Tommy for sigh. Eyes focused on the road, he didn’t want to be a pain and say I told you, Y/N was the only person he could trust and he wanted her to trust him the same way.

“Look this happens all the time, your Mum used to pay your dad’s bills behind his back, I just couldn’t take another one yet, he’s trying to find a better job and I think he’s going to propose soon.”

Tommy’s breath got caught up in his throat, he was trying to process the possibilities.

“So… is he the one?” He finally asked.

“Well he’s my boyfriend.” Y/N rushed to answer. “I just don’t know if he will let me keep working for Lady Winchester.”

“If you need a job, you know there’s always a spot for you at the Shelby Company Limited.” Tommy took the last puff of his cigarette and threw it outside the vehicle.

“Maybe I’ll need it later. Thank you.” Y/N felt more than grateful to have someone like Tommy around, he had always been there for her and her siblings specially after his business took off and he started to earn more money than anyone around. In her eyes, that didn’t make him change, if anything he became more generous.

But Scott on the other hand, was tender and good to her, he was fun to be around, always brought flowers to her. He wanted to have his own business one day, unfortunately life had been hard and it was taking him longer to make it.

Taking a turn, Tommy stopped in front of a huge gate, the property guarded by the gate wasn’t a house, it was a freaking mansion!

And her best friend was opening the gate as if he owned the property.

“Wha-what are you doing?” Y/N asked looking out the window.

“Drive over here!” Encouraged Tommy with a huge smile.

Her heart started beating faster, he showed her how to drive and even let her do it when she wasn’t allowed to. But this was wrong, it felt like they were trespassing, she could feel her heart pounding as Tommy shouted for her to hurry up.

Following his instructions, Y/N parked the car next to the fountain.

“I wanted you to see this first…” His smile couldn’t get any bigger as he opened his arms wide and looked around proudly. “I bought this place.”

Her jaw dropped, she was lost for words.

“What do you think? I’ll build a place for the horses in the back.” Tommy explained, eyes shining.

“Woah… I don’t know what to say Tom.” A hand covered her mouth, still shocked to form anything coherent. This house looked bigger than Lady Winchester’s and that was a bloody mansion too! “You always said you’d get yourself a decent place and a big house, and look at how far you’ve come!” She felt genuinely happy for him, Tommy had always worked so hard, always found a way to help his people and those around him. If anyone deserved this, it was him.

“I’ll even have my fucking office here, and there’s a grand salon for parties.” He explained as he waited for her to step inside.

“Parties?!” She laughed nervously.

“A ball dance and shit.” He took a look around.

“You’ll need loads of furniture to fill this place.”

Tommy chuckled. This was unthinkable a few months ago, now it was a reality, he’d had the big place he dreamed of when he was a kid.

“You got a fireplace! In the tea room!”

He followed Y/N’s voice, she was now standing in the middle of the dining room.

“This looks like it belongs to a Lord.”

“You can call me Lord Shelby then.” He winked at her and they both laughed at how ridiculous it sounded.

“Downstairs it’s the wine cellar.” He added hiding his hands inside the pockets of his pants. “Do you like it?”

“Are you kidding me?” She nodded. “This is a dream! I’m so happy for you!” Y/N then went to give him a hug.

A bold movement for the rest of the world, but to her it was just natural, they’ve been friends since forever. She was the one comforting him when his mother passed away, the one to help him hold it together after the war.

“You’ll love the kitchen, it’s huge but they’re doing some renovations already, I’ll show you once it’s done.”

“Looks like I’ll need to make an appointment from now on.” Y/N teased him.

Tommy shook his head with a shy smile. “Of course not, specially not you.”

She knew he was busier now days that the Peaky Blinders owned the races and licenses. It was just a matter of time before he found a woman and got married, then this house would be filled with kids. Or perhaps he already had someone therefore the plans to get the big house.

Once the realization hit her, she pretended to look towards the window. A sudden lump installed in her throat and something indescribable pressed her heart.

“Should we go? It’s going to be dark soon.” Y/N asked, looking him in the eyes for a mere second.

Time flew on their way back and soon Tommy stopped his car in front of Y/N’s door.

Even before he could say goodnight, an angry voice called for her.

“I’ve been waiting hours for you, Y/N nobody knew where the heck did you go.”

��Slow down mate, that’s no way to treat her.” Tommy intervened, holding Scott’s death stare.

“Stay the fuck out of this.” Scott raised his voice.

Tommy felt his blood boiling, one stride and he’d finish the prick, but before he could move, a pair of soft hands stopped him.

“Tommy please, let me handle this.” She pleaded.

His jaw clenched as he saw the smirk of satisfaction Scott gave him. The bastard had Y/N charmed and there was nothing he could do about it.

✨ Thank you for your support! You already know it, but the way to a writer’s heart is through your feedback xx

Part 1

Master list

Tag list: @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @datewithgianni @cloudofdisney @gretelshelby @garrison-girl-08 @lespendy @onlydeadcells @fastfan @stevie75 @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @esposadomd @forbidden-forest-witch @ange-thoughts @moral-terpitude @elenavampire21 @forgottenpeakywriter @thenattitude @winchestergirl22 @zablife @elk96 @blondie-22 @imichelle-l-rigby @allie131313 @already-broken144 @peakyscillian @babaohhhriley @shelbydelrey @shaddixlife @sloanexx @sydneyyyya @adaydreamaway08 @pono-pura-vida @thomashelbyswife @darleneslane @everythingelseisextra @kmc1989 @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @lau219 @lauren-raines-x @red-riding-wood @lovemissyhoneybee @theendlessvoidofdarkest @wannabeperfectionists-blog @yeppaweshallsee (can’t tag) @skydisneylover (can’t tag) @holacia3 @galactict3a

@saradika-graphics divider

[love-anddeepression]

EVERYTHING IS FINE- Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

this is it. angsty asf. bittersweet ending it’s sad people. tw: infidelity. based on my most recent post. please comment i’m literally begging you and tell me how you like it<3

Part 2

In the depths of your heart, you already know. Your Miguel is not yours anymore.

You remember the stolen glances between him and Dana where you pretended not to notice the palpable tension between the three of you amidst the throng of about ten other people in the house.

It was a nice dinner that you’d planned, after spending almost a week away because of your actual job as well as your little side gig that was being a part of spider society.

But fifteen minutes into the little shin-dig and you get a call from none other than your boss. Not the nice one who showed you the ropes when you first joined and provided you with hours of mentorship. The bitch that was a variant of your husband was currently floating above your watch as you glared at him in the bathroom.

“We need you.”

“Not today.”

“It’s an emergency.”

“It’s always an emergency.” you roll your eyes.

“Look this was unplanned, you think my life’s aim is to torment you?”

“Kind of.” you nod and he groans, “Give me twenty minutes.”

——

At the end of twenty minutes, you storm out of your house as quietly as you can, yes it’s an oxymoron but you’re pissed off.

At Miguel, at your husband, at yourself.

Your mother always said that you were one to pity yourself, even when every bad thing that happened was the result of your own actions. All your life you’ve disagreed, but now you think that maybe your mother was probably right.

None of this would have happened if you’d just said no. No to Dana making her way into your marriage to her guy best friend and co-worker.No to the variant of him with fangs and red eyes and No to your own urge of fucking things up because you wanted to see what happened. If maybe what your heart felt was wrong. That there was nothing wrong with you and Miguel, that he still loved you.

You let out a shaky breath and open a portal from an alleyway behind your apartment building. The purple hue reflects onto your face. No, you weren’t a spider. Just a traveller that stumped your boss and changed his perception of everything he knew about the multiverse.

The man himself nodded at you as you stepped onto the platform he was standing on, looking back to the holo of what looked like a rogue Doc Ock, Goblin and another Spiderman.

“What, now we have evil spidermen? Isn’t that breaking the canon?” you raise an eyebrow.

“That’s the thing. There’s no canon event broken. He was meant to be a villain. Yet, I’ve never heard of him, or of this universe.”

You look at him like he’s just told you that he used to be a stripper in college and all his money came from his side-gig, “I’m sorry, what? The all powerful Miguel O’Hara with the pixel suit doesn’t know of the existence of a universe?”

“You’re being real helpful right now.” he grumbles.

“Thank you, I knew you’d appreciate the help.”

——

The house is quiet when you walk in, evidently everyone has left. The kitchen has been cleaned and the lights are off.

He’d always been your biggest supporter. Always so humble even though he had a high position and a fat paycheck, always telling you to let him help you. Doing some of your work for you when you were busy.

The bedroom door creaked a little as you enter, the sound of your loves breathing makes you crack a small smile. His hulking figure curled up and moving up and down. His face slack.

God he was so beautiful.

You shed your clothes and go through your night routine as fast as you can. Brushing your teeth and scrubbing your face. Cursing the pimples that always make their way onto your forehead at the wrong time.

The mattress squeaks as you get on, slowly wrapping your hands around his body. He stirs and looks up at you, his eyes softening. He’d been drinking, you can tell. He hasn’t looked at you like this for a while.

“Hi.” his hands cup your face and you smile softly as you kiss his rough palm. Your own covering his.

“Sorry I disturbed you. Thank you for cleaning up.” your hands mirror his actions, thumbs caressing his cheekbones.

He answers you with a soft kiss. And then another. And his hands are travelling down to pull you to him. Engulfing you as he hides his face in the crook of your neck. Your hands move to play with his hair as he drifted back to sleep.

You close your eyes and pretend that everything is fine. That the lipstick stain on his shirt in the laundry basket wasn’t the same as Dana’s.

———

“Are you fucking dumb?” O’Hara seethes, as he disinfects the gash at the bottom of your neck.

“It’s just a graze, i’m fine.” you grumble, “it’s not like anyone’s gonna care if i die.”

“No, just shut your mouth. Stop talking like you’re some martyr. There are plenty of people here who would miss you.”

“Miguel, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.” you chuckle, “i get it-

“No, you don’t. actually, you don’t get it. the woman i loved died, and she’s gone and i’d do anything to have her back, and you’re so convinced that if you died your own fucking husband wouldn’t want to die too? Stop acting like you’re expendable.” his eyes glow and yours widen, “This may come as a surprise to you, but people care.”

You gulp, “Sorry.”

He grumbles under his breath as he sprays the wound with bacta so it heals faster. Apologising when you wince.

You look at his concentrated face that is focused on wrapping the bandage around your shoulder and the bottom of your neck. His face is mere inches from yours. He is the splitting image of your husband, save from the red eyes and fangs. But this close you can see the differences, his eyebrows are a tad thicker and his ears are smaller.

He is harder and his words are sharp. Your love is soft and quiet. Mean when he has to be, but kinder. More open.

More loving. Yes. He’s more loving and he loves you.

You look away and focus on the ceiling. You don’t see his eyes watching your face. Eyes filled with sadness and want.

——

“Dana, here. Have some tea.” you pour a cup for the woman sitting next to Miguel at the table. At your spot.

Is it toxic to think that maybe you want her to choke on her tea?

She’d started to carpool with Miguel a few months ago , seeing as they worked together and were on the same team, it was more efficient and made more sense.

You didn’t want to seem like a toxic wife so you nodded and agreed, because you were secure in your relationship with your husband.

“Thank you.” she says your name with a wide smile as she sips the tea, “Amazing, as always.”

“I know right, she makes amazing tea.” he smiles at her and raises an eyebrow. Dana snorts.

You look between the pair trying to hide their smiles, “Did I miss something?” an awkward smile makes its way onto your face.

“Inside joke, you wouldn’t get it. It’s a scientist thing. I don’t think your writer brain could handle it.” Dana waves you away as if you’re a fucking waiter and you bristle.

But what drives it home is that Miguel laughs out loud when she says that. His hair flops onto his forehead and Dana fixes it for him, her hands running through this hair.

You fight the urge to break a plate on her head but you know it’ll be fruitless. Because your husband will take her side.

Maybe you’re just being dramatic. Maybe the tears you’re trying to hide as you make breakfast are unwarranted and you can’t take a joke.

Everything is fine.

You call out to them from the kitchen, telling them you’re going to be late and his voice is brighter when he says, “Okay, honey.”

—————

“You okay?”

“I’m fine, boss.”

“You look dead.”

“Your eyes bags suggest the same.”

“You’re hilarious.” O’Hara smirks

“Thank you.” you take a sip of the beer he’d passed.

It was late, far past dinner time. And the both of you had taken time to go over the record of what anomalies were most common and key weaknesses in most villains.

“But seriously, are you okay?”

You gulp, “Tell me about your wife. Please.”

He blanches, and then looks at the tears welling up in your eyes.

“Well, where to begin?” he turns to face you, “She…was a writer, she had her own business. She loved sunflowers because they faced each other when the sun wasn’t in the sky.” he smiles sadly, “she was terrified of frogs and dead fish. And she hated onions. The pickiest fucking eater.” he shakes his head and chuckles.

“She sounds sweet.” you know she was variant of you, Miguel had shown you the web of life and in every universe there was version of you that made their way into his life. It was beautiful, honestly.

“She had short hair, and her smile. God, it could make anyone’s day better.” he rested his head on his hand and looked at the hologram shining in front of the both of you.

“She sounds like a dream.” you reply.

“She was.” he nods.

“Hey would you mind bringing up a live of my house?” you ask.

“Why?”

“Humour me, will you?”

He grumbles and a hologram showing your universe pops up, on the screen is your living room. And Miguel freezes when he sees the scene before him.

He sees himself kiss Dana. The version of him who is married, is kissing his co-worker. He’s taking her in his arms and nuzzling her nose. He’s pecking her cheeks and tickling her like she’s his wife.

Like he’s in love with her.

“I love you.” his voice echoes throughout the room. And Dana says it back.

His head whips to look at you. You don’t look surprised, rather, you look defeated. You breathe out like it’s a finality. Your beautiful beautiful eyes transfixed on offending scene in front of you.

Before anything else happens, he shuts it off. Immediately turning to look at your frozen form, “Hey, you with me?”

You shake your head and smile. Eyes still fixed onto where the hologram was, “I’m fine.” Tears fall down your cheeks as your mouth quivers, “I’m okay. Everyday he comes back around this time. And they carpool. I told him I’d be late today. Just after I made them tea and they laughed at an inside joke amongst themselves.”

His eyes widens, “Oh honey.” his moves to hug you and you let out an ugly sob, “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“I knew it.” you say into his chest, “I’m so fucking stupid.”

His hand pats your back, “You’re not stupid.”

“I mean, I know i was busy, i know i wasnt always home. But I tried, i fucking tried. WHAT IS SO WRONG WITB ME?” the dam breaks and you let out a wrecked shout of agony that breaks his heart into two, “Why wasn’t I good enough?!” your body shakes violently.

“No.” he says firmly, taking your face in his hands, almost squeezing your cheeks and forcing you to looking at him, your hands fly to cover his, “ You are good enough. You are enough. Listen to me. That fucking idiot doesn’t know who he just lost.”

“But-But if i wasnt so busy-

“If he had a problem, he should’ve told you. He’s a fucking pussy.”

Your words are silenced when he shakes you once, hands still holding your cheeks, “You are the most perfect person. And the both of them will pay. I promise that, cariño.”

His arms wrap around you to engulf you as you hide your face in the crook of his neck, rapid breaths slowing. His pulse beats and you can feel the vibrations on your own skin.

You close your eyes and pretend everything is fine. Because you’re in his arms.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiebingo.

You're a Fucking Dickhead

12 Days of Christmas Prompt: Soulmate | Word Count: 1894 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Steve | Tags: Soulmate AU, College AU, Modern AU, Meet Cute, Or: Meet Ugly, Soulmarks, Invisible Strings, Hijinks Ensue, The Universe Had to Work Overtime on These Two

I actually got assigned the prompt "soulmates" on both of my Christmas and New Year's bingo cards. Instead of trying to double-up, I decided to just make them companion pieces. Here are the links to both:

Part 1: Steve POV | Part 2: Eddie POV | Also on AO3

They are intended so they could be read standalone, but I wrote Steve's first, so I suggest starting here if you want to read both.

Steve pushes his sleeves up, realizes, and pushes them right back down despite it being sweltering in this auditorium. As much as he prides himself on being confident in his own skin, on being exactly who he is, no apologies, this little three inch line of text scrawled on his arm is the bane of his whole existence. He hates it. 

Robin glances over at him, and gives him a raised eyebrow. Yeah, yeah. He had promised he would cut it out once they were at college, but fuck, old habits die hard. He's only a senior. Maybe he'll go to grad school and he can stop hiding his arm then. Plenty of time.

"I know," he hisses at her, and he's told himself over and over that someday he won't care. That someday he'll just let it all hang out. So what if his so called soulmate is out there somewhere waiting to meet him, only to say: You're a fucking dickhead!

Yeah, sign him up for that. Not.

No matter who it is, Steve isn't interested. He's going tell them to fuck right off. If he ever meets them. He hasn't yet, and he's not exactly frothing at the bit to do it soon.

He focuses back on the professor, and he's almost made it through undergrad. Six more weeks. He can do this.

"A frat party? Steve. No," Robin says, and Steve is just nodding.

"Steve, yes," he says, smiling wide. "We'll get some bathtub punch, maybe bum a joint. C'mon. Maybe we'll even get laid."

"Dingus, the odds of me getting laid at a frat party are negative seventy-five thousand."

"Then let me get laid. Rob, please. For me," and he gives her the eyes. They always work, and he spins around after she reluctantly nods her consent to his plan. 

"You've gotten laid plenty," she argues.

"That's patently untrue," he lies. "I'm in a dry spell."

"It's been four days."

"It gets mighty cold at night," he says, and she laughs and pushes him, but she'll go.

He might not have good soulmate prospects, but he does have the best best friend a guy could ask for, and his charm, which he's applied liberally all up and down the eastern seaboard.

So, yeah. Tonight is gonna be awesome, he just knows it.

Tonight is not awesome, Steve thinks, as he's shoved so hard he stumbles. The guy is bigger than him, but honestly just caught him off guard. Steve doesn't know what the fuck his problem is. It's a party. They're supposed to be having fun. But this? This is not fun.

All Steve did is walk by, and now he's fucking stumbling like he's drunk, which unfortunately he is not since he hasn't even had one drink yet, but his balance is already a distant memory. He catches his shin on the edge of a coffee table, and that really fucking smarts. Then, he's going down. There's no other possibility. No way to catch himself.

"Goddamn, fuck you, motherfucker!" Steve shouts, sliding over the table on his knees, tipping over cups and bottles, knocking everything in his path off to the hardwood floor with a clatter, before finally coming to a stop with a thud on top of the person sitting on the couch. That's fucking embarrassing.

"You're a fucking dickhead!" The guy under him laughs while patting Steve's back, and it sounds amused, not angry. But those words. Those are his words. Steve freezes. But not for long, because he's unceremoniously being shifted and dumped into the lap of the guy on the right. 

Big blue eyes, and a mop of curls, looking down at him, asking, "What'd you say?"

"Huh?" Steve asks, trying to right himself.

Oh. The guy — his soulmate? — wasn't talking to him. He was talking to the guy who shoved him.

"What did you say when you literally fell in Eddie's lap?" he asks.

Eddie. His soulmate's name is Eddie. Steve has no fucking clue what he said, but he's guessing that whatever it is, it's scrawled somewhere on Eddie's body and his friend here knows that. 

Steve's ignoring ol' blue eyes, and trying to turn to get another glimpse of Eddie, to see what he's doing, to see if he's gonna fight for his honor or some shit.

He's not fighting, but he does have the guy in a headlock. But they're both laughing. What the fuck is happening right now?

"What the fuck, Goods? You just laid that poor guy out, say you're sorry," Eddie is telling the dude who shoved him. Who looks far less scary with his head tucked under Eddie's armpit. He's all red-faced and curly-headed, squirming, but looking amused. 

"I'm sorry," the shover laughs out, and Steve is still trying to slide off the other guy's lap. "It was an instinct! A remnant from high school. Get bullied, push back, that's what you always said!"

His supposed soulmate knows the asshole that knocked him clean off his feet for no good reason? Well, that's just great. Very promising. He knew he was in for a bad time with the words alone, and now he's been knocked clean off his feet, and not in a good way.

"He was bullying you?" Eddie asks, face looking serious.

"I was not!" Steve says. He's never even seen this guy before. He walked by him in the crowded room, and then was shoved.

"He stepped on my foot!" 

Eddie laughs, "He stepped on your foot, so you shoved him in my lap?"

"Well, I didn't think you'd mind!"

"What's going on here?! I just went to the bathroom, there wasn't even a line!" Robin screeches. "Now Steve is sitting in Gareth's lap? How do you know Gareth? You can't sleep with Gareth!" Robin is rambling, talking with her hands, flailing and fluttering with all her might. 

How do you know Gareth? Steve thinks. 

She's all worked up. Well, she can join the club.

"I'm fine. We're fine, I think? I'm not sleeping with Gareth?" Steve says, but his voice trails upward, unsure. 

"Not a question. Absolutely not. No offense," Gareth says, and well, that's kinda rude.

"Look what you've done, now you've made his girlfriend mad," Eddie says, still not releasing the guy who caused this whole situation. 

"Ew, gross. Not my boyfriend," Robin says, way too fast. 

"She's a lesbian," Gareth says, and Steve wants to wheel on him. Gareth better not have a problem with that, but Steve can only fight one battle at a time, and Robin offending him always takes precedence.

"Don't be so disgusted," Steve complains, and then turns to look back at Gareth, "Same for you. I'm a catch."

"Do you still have a dick?" Robin asks, her go-to response in this situation. He knows the script.

"What she said," Gareth adds.

"I still have a dick," he confirms quietly.

"Well, we're all glad to hear it," Eddie says, finally letting his friend go. 

Another guy walks up, looks between all of them, "What's going on?"

"Jeff?" Robin questions.

Robin knows Jeff? Who's Jeff?

"Hey, Robin," Jeff says

"How do you know Jeff and Gareth?" Steve asks, whoever the fuck they are, but he's being ignored.

 "Oh, Jeff, you picked the exact worst time to wander off. Short story: Goodie pushed this guy—"

"Goodie's here, too?" Robin interrupts.

Gareth keeps talking, "—and get this, turns out, this dude is Eddie's soulmate."

Eddie turns his head, "What'd you say? Gareth, why do you think…" he trails off, and then looks down at his arm.

"You're Goddamn, Fuck You, Motherfucker?" Jeff asks, as if that's Steve's legal name.

Steve laughs, "Well, I prefer Steve, but I'll answer to anything, I guess."

Everybody laughs.

"Jeff, help me. Eddie tried to take my head off my neck," Goodie complains. Which, honestly, the nerve. He started this whole fiasco. Steve was minding his own goddamn business.

"You pushed my soulmate. You got off easy, my child," Eddie says, circling Goodie, clearly teasing him. 

Eddie. Gareth. Goodie. Jeff. Steve's putting these names to faces, because he's afraid it might all be important later. Maybe forever. 

These people are a circus and a rodeo all rolled into one. 

He feels sick to his stomach. In a good way? A bad way? He isn't sure. All this time, and he still somehow wasn't ready for it. This scenario wasn't even in his wildest of dreamed up scenarios. Yeah, he got pushed. But his proposed soulmate doesn't appear to be a total dickhead either. 

"Let me see," Steve says quietly, a demand more than a question, and Eddie stops what he was doing, stepping closer. His arm is right out there, uncovered, for all the world to see. And that's for sure his own handwriting.

Goddamn, fuck you, motherfucker!

Plain as day.

Steve reaches out and brushes his thumb against Eddie's mark, and suddenly he feels like he's riding lightning.

"Holy shit," Eddie says.

"Uh, yeah," Steve answers. 

"Wanna get out of here?" Eddie asks, and Steve is nodding before Eddie's finished asking. 

His body feels warm.

But Robin, "I'm with Robin. I need to-"

"Nope, dingus. Go. I'll ride with Jeff. Or Gareth. Or Goodie," she says. "I can take my pick. I know them all."

"How do you know Jeff, Gareth and Goodie?" Steve asks, because he feels like he's losing his mind.

Jeff waves. So the other two follow suit.

"Jeff and I have had like a thousand classes together," Robin says, and Jeff is nodding in agreement. "We studied together all last year. Do you not recall all the, 'I'm going to study at Jeff's' that I said, week after week?"

Steve shakes his head. He does not.

"You were in our house! All the time!" Eddie says, pointing at Robin. "I have seen you before! I knew you looked familiar!" 

"Yeah, obviously," she says, rolling her eyes, "Anyway. Gareth's in my film class. And Goodie's in the marching band."

Steve feels like he's going insane. He got pushed by a marching band geek? Then there's Eddie, his soulmate, and apparently Robin's just been running in Eddie's whole goddamn circle without his knowledge. What? How?

He can't. Not right now. He needs to process this later. Maybe with a flow chart pointing out all the invisible strings that have been forming, trying to connect them.

"You'll get her home safe?" Steve asks, because that's all that matters.

"They will," Eddie assures, and puts his palm in the middle of Steve's back. Steve can feel it even through his shirt.

Steve looks back at Robin, slightly helpless. 

She takes a step forward, "If you don't-"

"I do," he interrupts, "I do."

He really does.

"Gross, go then," she says, holding up her hands, and when Eddie takes a step forward to lead them out, he goes.

Steve sneaks looks at Eddie as they make their way through the crowded house. He's pretty. Not what he'd expected, not that he'd ever really had a good mental picture of what his soulmate might look like. He'd been too focused on the harsh words, that he hadn't tried to form them into a real person.

Eddie's real.

He's so fucking real.

They step out into the night, and Eddie stops on the sidewalk, meeting Steve's eyes, smiling wide, "Your place or mine?"

Read Eddie's POV next.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiebingo and follow along with the fun! 💞

Notes: I don't think I've written soulmates before, so I'm not sure if I've stayed with the trope or veered into left field, but I know I had fun with this one. I loved the idea that their first words in each other's presence would be something so unhinged, lol. And Goodie shall never let either of them forget that their soulmarks were spoken to him not each other.

[kryannoy]

you're so calm. you're only feral when you're fighting and . . . y'know

DAY 4 | OCTOBER 14 | PUBLIC SEX

genre: nsfw, smut character: dom!megumi x sub!reader summary: doing the deed outside and almost getting caught warnings: public sex, brat taming, cockstepping, unprotected sex, degradation (use of slut), exhibitionism

He never thought shoving his cock into you outside the house would ever cross his mind, nor even cross off his checklist. Never did you, but it did. You can thank yourself for this.

All you wanted to do was rile him up so he can slam you to a wall as soon as you guys got home but you didn't think he wouldn't wait. He's always been patient so you intended it as a joke.

But yes, now is not a joke anymore with him deep inside your hole in an alley that you're pretty sure passersby can watch the show you guys are putting on.

In a restaurant, you accidently brushed your feet to his crotch when you were adjusting your position. And his reaction did not go unnoticed in your eyes. Your devilish smirk is hidden as your feet crawls up his shin to his thigh. He smacked you away with a glaring look, telling you to behave. But of course you don't listen. You continue rubbing his cock under the table and he's trying his best to keep in his moans, only having to fake cough for coverup. His blush was noticeable, though. His hands flailing to make you stop and his eyes sending death glares. However, all of that went over your head, thinking that he won't do such things in public so you have to wait at home.

After dinner, instead of making your way to both of your car, Megumi pulled you in the alleyway next to the restaurant. The thing is, it's a one way window glass--you can see the people inside but they can't see the outside.

"You wanted to act like slut, huh? Well, I'll treat you like one. Don't worry." His pants are down and your dress is hiked up to your hips. Your panties are long gone in his pocket. He maneuvered you to the window, bending you down ass up, tits and face pressed up against the cold glass. He gives you a loud smack on your ass and aligned his cock to your pussy. You moaned out from the sudden stretch with no prep.

"Oh, you really want the customers to know, huh? You love that, don't you?" He hisses when he feels your walls clench around him from his dirty talks. His hips started thrusting, pounding into your wet, sopping cunt. His grip on your hips will surely leave a mark. If you gave him no chance to contain his dignity just now, then he will do the same.

Not even two minutes have passed and you're already creaming on his raging cock. Somehow you couldn't control your voice, forgetting that you're out in the open. The two customers that was close to the two of spin their head into your direction. You weren't sure if they heard you or not. But after awhile, their turn back to their food.

Megumi lets out a low groan as he also bust his nut inside you. He didn't stop there, oh no. He wants to tease you like you did. He pounded his dick into you so hard you jolted into the glass. Then, he waits a little before doing it again. Waiting and pounding, waiting and pounding. Your moans accompanying each thrust, getting higher and higher. The same two customers look back to both of your direction again and you shut your mouth this time. Whimpers only coming out. Megumi leans in to you and whispered in your ear.

"They're watching you and here you are with my pussy clenching down my cock? You want me to fuck you again, you little horny bastard? C'mon, let's give them some entertainment."

He starts picking up his pace, his pelvis smacking into your ass, giving you spanks at a time. His fingers crawl up to you lips, forcing them open so you can be loud. At this point, you're pretty his shyness and usual timid self has thrown to who-knows-where and you kind of not complaining. You were the one who brought this upon yourself.

The customer has called a waiter to come check the mysterious noise near them, which the waiter obeyed the orders and approach your direction. You lifted yourself off the glass so you won't be seen if looked closely. However, Megumi notices your intention and pushed you back to the glass. This time caging you so you have no way to move around. His head is buried into your neck, biting it to only contain his voice while yours and still forced open with his fingers shoved down your throat. You met the waiter's eyes and you couldn't help to cum for the second time on his cock.

"You dirty slut," he coos before smacking your ass from your naughtiness.

Thankfully, the waiter turned back around and shook his head to the customer. You both assume it was nothing and he only came to 'check' the noise just to satisfy the customer needs. You sigh in relief as Megumi came again in your pussy. He groans out as he removed himself from you. Your hole now dripping with white cum in huge globs. You hear him growl from behind you as he shoved back his cum into you with his fingers so it wouldn't drip again when you walk to your car or staining the seat of his car because he won't be giving you your panties back.

[cosmicalily]

"to be loved is to be remembered" - a mini series by @cosmicalily. view series masterlist, and outline here

2. semantic memory | yang jeongin x fem!reader

semantic memory: a type of explicit memory that is categorised as general knowledge and information accumulated throughout an individual’s life.

author's note: oh, i missed writing for jeongin!! i was going to revert to my typical best friends to lovers but i decided to change it up (barely) and do roommates instead last minute! thank you for all the love on my seungmin fic, i hope you enjoy this one too!

Yang Jeongin was a good roommate. 

He was reasonably quiet, but not uncomfortably so. He didn’t talk all the time, but he still joked around with you. He was clean and organised, but not meticulous or irritating about it. He did things without you asking; washed the dishes when you were staying up late to work on assignments, ordered you a Caesar salad and fries whenever he got takeout from his favourite Italian place, and always took whatever laundry you had with him when he went to wash his clothes. 

When you went grocery shopping, you knew his favourite beer and ramyeon, and would always buy them for him. When you watered your plants, you’d always water his too, the ones he kept along the windowsill of his bedroom and on the balcony. 

And apparently, when the air conditioning in his bedroom broke in the middle of summer, you’d let him temporarily move into your room. Or at least, that’s what you’d just told him.

“Really? Are you sure?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck. “You don’t have to. I’m sure I can find a fan or something.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I don’t mind. Honestly. I don’t do a lot of sleeping during the night anyway.”

“You’re always studying,” Jeongin rolled his eyes playfully.

“And you’re never studying, yet you somehow do so well in your classes. It pisses me off,” you groaned, giving him a light shove. “Anyway, you get the floor. Do you want some help migrating?”

The two of you dragged his mattress into your bedroom, out of breath and panting by the time it had been very unprettily dumped on your floor. He made the bed up with clean sheets, and offered to change yours as well. You thanked him, and told him you’d start making dinner.

When you’d finished, you called him, and he came out of your bedroom, shirt off, hair a little tousled. Your cheeks flushed pink and he raised an eyebrow at you in confusion.

“You look…nice,” you said awkwardly, handing him a beer.

“Thanks?” he chuckled, mouth full of rice.

You sighed dramatically. “Most boys would return the compliment,” you shook your head as you opened your bottle of peach soju. 

“You always look nice. I tell you that all the time,” Jeongin replied, fumbling with the remote. “What show?”

“Brooklyn 99. And I always think you’re being sarcastic.”

“We always watch fucking Brooklyn 99. And no, I’m not. I thought that was obvious.”

“Because it’s the best show! And it’s not that obvious, not to me!” You protested.

Jeongin put his beer down and turned to you. “I’m so confused, why are we having two conversations at once?”

“You were the one who asked me two things.”

Jeongin pressed play on the episode. “One of them was a statement, the other was a question. You do always look nice. I’m not being sarcastic, I’m not a dickhead.”

“Some would argue that,” you giggled, and he gave you a gentle shove.

“Some would argue you’re a bitch,” Jeongin sighed. “But I put up with you.”

“Because you think I’m pretty?” you teased. 

“Because of the rent,” he corrected. “How am I supposed to afford my own place in this economy? Although you’re a bonus, I suppose. Even if I have to watch Brooklyn 99 all the time and change your sheets.”

You kicked his shin. “You offered!” 

He grabbed your leg with his hand and shifted it back into place, leaving his hand resting on your thigh. “Shut up. I’m trying to watch.”

“I thought you hated-” you laughed.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Jeongin groaned, and he pinned you to the floor, tickling you until the two of you collapsed in a laughing heap, the show still running, dinner half eaten, drinks long forgotten.

The one thing you’d failed to mention to Jeongin was your habit of falling off the bed during the night. You were a professional tosser and turner, and that often ended up with you snapping out of your dreams face-down on the wooden floor, bruises littering your hips, knees and any other joint that was lucky enough to be the first to break your fall.

When you woke up, you were mortified to find yourself not on exposed hardwood, but on a mattress. With someone else, who was staring at you curiously.

“Fuck!” you groaned, shoving your face into the sheets. “I’m sorry. When did I end up here?”

Jeongin checked his phone. “Maybe 4 am? I don’t know, I didn’t notice until I rolled over and somebody’s face was in front of mine.”

“What’s the time now?”

“Just past 7.”

You rolled over and stared at the ceiling. “I should get up then.”

“Yeah, me too,” Jeongin agreed, but neither of you made any attempt to move.

You looked around your room, interested in your lower perspective. It still looked empty, too similar to when you’d first moved in. You’d been so caught up in studying and seeing your friends that you had forgotten to properly decorate your room.

“Your room’s boring,” Jeongin commented, as if reading your mind.

“Rude. But you’re right,” you agreed. “Maybe during the summer I’ll decorate it. Buy some posters, maybe find some new furniture on Facebook Marketplace.”

Jeongin nodded in approval. “I can help, if you want.”

“How can I trust that you’ll pick good home decor?” you rolled to face him, squinting.

“I know your taste, I’ve been living with you a year now,” Jeongin replied, scrolling through his phone. “Trust me, I don’t think I’ve forgotten a single thing about you.”

You chuckled. “Aw, do you have one of those lists with all my favourite things or something?”

“Nope. It’s all in here,” he tapped the side of his head, smiling playfully.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Do you want me to prove it?” he asked, turning to face you, eyes serious.

“Okay, then I’ll do the same,” you agreed.

Jeongin ran a hand through his hair and set his phone down. “Your favourite fruits are peaches, but nectarines come a close second. If stone fruits aren’t in season, you’ll settle for citrus. You’re prescribed an iron supplement, but you never take it, because you say it tastes like metal. Your favourite colour is pale blue, but it didn’t match the personal colour analysis that app gave you and you’ve been angry about it ever since. You drink with your friends, but don’t like getting drunk while you’re out since you have a fear of being kidnapped. You haven’t had a boyfriend since 12th grade, and you’re secretly in love with me,” he finished, eyes sparkling with mischief.

You rolled your eyes at his final statement. “Alright, Yang Jeongin. You’re the youngest in your friendship group but hate being babied, and you wanted to be a primary school teacher growing up. Your favourite colour is green, and you can fit a whole slice of pizza in your mouth. You can actually sing decently well, but never do, and you actually love Brooklyn 99 more than I do. You love buying clothes, and your favourite place to do so is the vintage shop down the road, where you spend all of your time and all of your money. And, above all, you get no bitches.”

“Don’t you classify as a bitch?” He laughed. “You did well, though. Everything you said was right.”

“You were right too,” you sighed. “I really thought you were going to say something insanely stupid that I could tease you for.”

Jeongin raised an eyebrow. “Did you forget that last statement?”

You ignored him. “I genuinely can’t believe you know that much about me. Fuck, I have to hide more about myself. I hate being perceived.”

Jeongin chuckled in amusement. “I pay attention. It’s weird hearing everything someone knows about you all at once. What am I supposed to do with that information?”

“I think we have to make out now,” you said casually.

He nodded, unsurprised. “I think we do.”

You shuffled closer, and he moved to lie above you, weight on his elbows. His eyes glittered, and his cheeks were tinged with peach. You smiled up at him, face warm and tingling. He leaned in, pressing his lips against yours softly, and you sighed into his mouth at the feeling. You moved your hands to cup his cheeks, deepening the kiss, pulling apart when you both lost your breath.

“You were right,” you panted, lips swollen. 

“About?”

“Me being secretly in love with you.”

He smiled. “Well, you were wrong. About me getting no bitches. It wouldn’t be presumptuous to assume you’re my bitch, considering the fact that we just kissed?”

“I won’t be for long if you keep calling me that. It’s girlfriend to you now,” you giggled, and he wrapped an arm around your torso, pulling you tight onto his chest.

[ponderingmoonlight]

can you write a complilation with hak, shina, jaeha and kija with the any men getting caught up in a snow storm with you please? Thank you!!

I went ham on this and don't feel ashamed hehehe

Getting caught up in an snow storm and saved by Yona of the Dawn men

Pairings: Hak x fem! reader; Shin-Ah x fem!reader; Jae-Ha x fem!reader; Kija x fem!reader

Word Count: 6,3k (I went soo hard on this)

Warnings: Yona men being as charming as ever, reader getting saved by every single one of them, near-death experiences

To all my lovely followers and supporters out there: Even if you're not a fan of Yona of the Dawn, I'd totally appreciate you leaving a small like for this work and support me, it truly means the world <3

Hak

The wind shrieks around you, a relentless force that makes your every step feel like a battle. Snow pelts your face, tiny shards of ice biting into your exposed and icy skin. Your breaths come out in short, ragged puffs, visible in the freezing air. You can barely see Hak through the wall of white, his broad frame just a dark outline against the snowstorm.

How did the two of you end up here? You were supposed to collect a few logs of wood for princess Yona who felt cold in the castle, a pretty standard task both of you normally complete within two hours.

Normally, when there isn’t a snow storm brushing against your body so harshly that you’re barely able to stand. 

Your legs are growing heavy, the snow swallowing your steps, but Hak moves with determined ease, his hand gripping yours tightly in order for you to keep his track. Every time you stumble, he steadies you with a firm pull.

“Don’t slow down,” he grumbles, his voice rising above the roar of the storm.

“We can’t stop out here.”

Oh, you surely try. But at this point, it feels impossible. The cold is gnawing at you, your fingers and toes numb despite your gloves and boots. Another gust of wind pushes you sideways, and your legs buckle. Faster than your muscles are able to react, your knees give in and race towards the even colder snow underneath.

 Before you hit the ground, Hak’s arms are around you, strong and unwavering.

“Hey,” he says, crouching slightly to meet your eyes, his face barely visible beneath the snow clinging to his hair and cloak.

“You okay?”

You nod weakly, even though your body screams otherwise. You’ve never seen this much worry in his eyes, not when it comes to you. As one of Yona’s servants and the best female swordswoman walking this country, he never really had to concern about you. But now, with your lips turning blue, your teeth shivering uncontrollably and that emptiness that starts to fill your gaze, he can’t help but pull you closer. Why did you decide to wear that stupid dress for a stroll outside mid-December anyway?

“Just… cold,” you manage to press out.

“Cold?” he echoes with mock amazement.

“You don’t say. And here I thought you were just taking a nap in the middle of a blizzard.”

His teasing grin doesn’t quite reach his eyes, though. They’re scanning you, sharp and assessing. Are you still well enough to carry on? What will he do if you faint right here and now?

Without waiting for an answer, he scoops you up in his arms. Almost instantly, a new-found wave of heat rushes straight into your cheeks when his hand squeezes your waist, his arms almost swallowing you whole. Fuck, you hate that he does that to you, you hate the effect Son Hak has on your otherwise strong body. You never thought you’d fall for a man, never turned your head for a single male individual that came to the kingdom in order to propose to you. But Hak?

You gasp in protest, but he doesn’t even flinch at the weight of your body inside his arms.

“Stop arguing. You’re not walking in this condition. And no, you’re not heavy.”

“I can walk,” you grumble, though your trembling limbs betray you.

“Sure you can,” he replies, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

“Right into hypothermia. Let me handle this, alright?”

Hak strides forward, the storm battering against him as if it’s trying to force him back. And him? He’s solid, his body a barrier between you and the worst of the cold. Every step is deliberate, each movement steady despite the snowdrifts reaching up to his knees. You hate that you can’t help but admire that bastard who managed to get stronger than you when you were only 6.

Finally, he spots a massive tree with low, snow-covered branches forming a natural canopy.

“That’ll do,” he mutters, adjusting his grip on you as he pushes forward.

When he reaches the tree, he sets you down gently against the trunk, brushing snow off the spot before you sit. His coat is off in an instant, and before you can protest, he wraps it around your shoulders.

“Hak, no,” you mutter, your teeth chattering.

“You’ll freeze-”

He silences you with a look, one eyebrow quirking upward in that signature way of his.

“Don’t start. I’ve survived worse than this. You? Not so much. Just stay put. Or do you want to keep me warm?”

You open your mouth to argue, but the look in his eyes, steady and serious, stops you. Instead, you huddle deeper into his coat, the lingering warmth from his body spreading through the fabric.

“I’d rather die”, you lie gruffly.

Hak raises an eyebrow, his grin spreading slowly, almost devilishly.

“Oh, really?” he teases, his tone dripping with amusement.

“Is that so? Because from where I’m sitting, you’re practically burrowing into my coat like a squirrel getting ready for hibernation.”

Hak kneels in front of you, his hands working quickly to untangle a scarf from his bag while that dirty grin is still plastered onto his face. He wraps it carefully around your neck, his calloused fingers brushing against your chilled skin. The contact sends a spark of warmth through you, awakens that heat inside your body you never fail to miss whenever he touches you by accident.

“There. Better?”

You nod, but your shivering doesn’t want to stop. He clicks his tongue, clearly unhappy with the situation, and without warning, sits down beside you. His arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you firmly against his side.

“Maybe there’s no way around me keeping you warm, brat”, he comments with a sly grin his whole side pressing against yours.

“What are you doing?” you shriek, even as you instinctively lean into his warmth.

When was the last time you were this close to Hak? Were you ever this close to him?

“Keeping you alive,” he replies simply, his tone matter-of-fact.

“It’s kind of my job.”

“You’re not my babysitter but princess Yona’s,” you mumble, though you don’t pull away.

He chuckles, the sound low and comforting despite the raging storm.

“Oh, really? Could’ve fooled me.”

For a while, the two of you sit in silence, the storm howling around the tree but not quite reaching the small pocket of shelter you’ve found. His body is solid and warm against yours, his cloak spreading out to cover you both. Every so often, he adjusts it, ensuring not even a sliver of cold air gets in.

“Look,” he announces eventually, nodding toward the horizon. The wind shifts slightly, and you catch a glimpse of the snow-covered landscape beyond the tree. It’s bleak, but there’s a strange beauty in the endless expanse of white.

“It’s kind of peaceful,” you admit, your voice quieter now, the cold stealing your energy.

“Peaceful,” Hak repeats, snorting.

“Only you would find peace in a blizzard.”

You glance up at him, noticing the way his eyes soften as he looks at you. There’s a fondness there, mingled with his usual exasperation. Is this…affection? You’ve seen the way he looks at Yona while your eyes were glued onto him a thousand times and never failed to wonder if he’ll ever look at you the same way. With those almost soft eyes, his mouth slightly opened, his face only inches away from yours…Are you dreaming?

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?”, he murmurs into the wind.

“I try,” you reply, managing a small smile.

Hak shifts, pulling you closer as another gust of wind shakes the branches above.

“Stay awake. No nodding off. You do that, and I’ll start telling bad jokes to keep you conscious. Your call.”

You groan, burying your face in his shoulder despite your heart almost skipping a beat.

“Anything but that.”

He laughs, the sound rich and warm despite the cold.

“Thought so.”

The warmth of Hak’s laugh lingers in the air, curling around you like the faintest hint of spring within the frozen storm. He shifts slightly, his arm still securely around your shoulders, and leans in just a little closer - close enough that you can see the snowflakes melting in his dark hair, the faint smirk playing on his lips while you forget to breathe.

“You know,” he begins, his tone taking on that familiar teasing lilt that always makes you both want to smack him and listen intently.

 “I think I deserve a thank-you for saving your life. Again.”

You snort softly, your breath visible in the cold air.

“A thank-you? For saving me again? I can’t remember a single time you’ve had to save me. Don’t push it, thunder beast.”

He arches an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with your lack of gratitude.

“Thunder beast, huh? You’re lucky I’m too much of a gentleman to leave you here for the storm to chew on.”

“Gentleman?” you echo, scoffing.

“Since when?”

“Since the moment I decided not to make you walk in that ridiculous excuse for winter gear,” he quips, nudging you lightly with his shoulder.

“Seriously, were you planning to duel the snowstorm with that dress? Or were you just hoping to look so pathetic I’d have no choice but to save you? Or…did you hope I’ll take it off for you?”

Your cheeks flush—not entirely from the cold—as you glare up at him. Did he really just say that?

“I don’t need you to save me. And I don’t need you to take off my clothes”, you retort stubbornly.

“Sure, you don’t,” he agrees easily, his grin widening.

“But you do need me to keep you warm.”

He shifts again, pulling you even closer until your sides are flush against each other.

“Not that I’m complaining. I could get used to this.”

You roll your eyes, but the warmth of his body and the teasing tone of his voice make it hard to stay annoyed, let alone calm down your thundering heart.

“If you’re so warm, why don’t you go out there and finish gathering the wood?” you challenge.

“Oh, I could. But then who would you snuggle up to when the storm gets worse?”

“I’m not snuggling!” you protest, pulling back slightly, only for another gust of wind to blow through, forcing you right back into the shelter of his side.

“Uh-huh,” he replies, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. It’ll be our little secret. To be honest, I’d love to be your little secret.”

“Hak-” you start, intending to argue, but he cuts you off with a sly grin.

“Relax. If you wanted to be close to me, all you had to do was ask. No need to freeze half to death for an excuse.”

Your jaw drops, heat rushing to your face as his words sink in. You sputter, trying to come up with a comeback, but he just chuckles, his voice rich and warm, as if he’s already won.

“See? Speechless,” he teases, leaning back against the tree as if this entire situation was the most natural thing in the world.

“Guess I really do have that effect on you. Not that I didn’t notice the way you’re looking at me already.”

You narrow your eyes at him, trying to muster some semblance of control over your expression, but his grin is too infectious, his presence too comforting despite the storm raging around you. Finally, you let out a resigned sigh.

“You’re insufferable,” you mutter, leaning your head against his shoulder despite yourself.

“And you love it,” he shoots back without missing a beat.

You don’t reply, but the small smile tugging at your lips while you snuggle even closer to him says enough.

Shin-Ah

The blizzard roars with a cruelty that shakes the trees lining the mountainside. Shin-Ah sits quietly near the entrance of his cave, his dragon eyes piercing the white chaos outside. Snow swirls violently, carried by the howling wind, blanketing the landscape in an unrelenting storm. He’s used to the solitude of this place, the stillness that comes with living so far removed from others, but tonight the storm feels… different.

A nagging feeling tugs at his chest, a restlessness that keeps his gaze fixed on the swirling snow. Something is out there. Or rather, someone.

Then, through the blinding white, he sees it: a faint, staggering figure. At first, he wonders if it’s his imagination, a trick of the storm his mind plays on him all over again. But as the figure stumbles closer, barely a shadow against the blizzard, he knows it’s real. He watches, heart pounding as the figure collapses into the snow and stops moving entirely.

Shin-Ah doesn’t hesitate. Without a second thought, he grabs his thick fur cloak and bolts out into the storm. The snowdrifts are deep, the wind nearly throwing him off balance, but he presses forward. His boots crunch against the ice, his cloak flapping violently behind him as he approaches the fallen figure.

When he reaches you, his breath catches in his throat. Your body is half-buried in the snow, your skin pale and lips an alarming shade of blue. Your clothes are soaked and unsuitable for weather this extreme, offering little protection against the icy cold. You murmur something faint, your voice so weak it’s swallowed by the wind.

You’re…you’re a woman, the most beautiful creature he ever laid his eyes on.

Shin-Ah drops to his knees, his arms sliding under your limp body as he lifts you effortlessly. You’re lighter than he expected, your frame alarmingly cold to the touch. His grip tightens instinctively, his heartbeat thundering in his chest.

“You’re safe now,” he whispers, even though you can’t hear him.

He turns and strides back toward the cave, his body shielding you from the worst of the wind. Snow clings to his cloak, to his hair, but he doesn’t stop until you’re both inside, away from the storm’s wrath.

Who are you? And how did you end up here?

When you’re senses slowly but surely become yours again, the world feels… muffled. Warmth wraps around you like a cocoon, chasing away the bone-deep chill that had consumed you. What happened last? Weren’t you out frantically looking for a shelter in the cold? But why? Why did you leave the safety of your house? Because your brother, your father…Your father…

It takes effort to open your eyes, your body still heavy with exhaustion. Because something horrible happened back home, because you were supposed to die next. You had no choice but to leave everything you knew and loved behind.

The flickering glow of a fire dances against the rocky walls of a cave, casting long shadows. How did you end up here?

It’s then you notice the weight against you. No - around you.

A strong arm encircles your back, pulling you gently against a broad chest. The heat radiating from him is overwhelming, but it’s the only thing keeping you from freezing again. You shift slightly, your head tilting up to see the person who saved you.

A man, to be exact.

His golden eyes meet yours, wide with worry and a hint of relief and shock. His face is partially obscured by a mask, but the parts you can see - his pale blue hair, the soft curve of his jaw, the glint of his eyes from behind that mask - are striking. He looks… ethereal.

“You’re awake,” he declares, his voice quiet but filled with unmistakable concern.

Your lips part, but no words come out at first. Your throat feels dry like the desert, and your mind is sluggish as you try to piece together what happened. Memories of the storm surface -its cruelty, your body failing against the cold, and then… this man. He saved you, right?

“Where am I?” you manage to whisper, your voice raspy.

“My cave,” he answers simply, his words hesitant, as if unsure how much to say.

“You were in the snow. I… found you.”

You shift slightly, wincing at the ache in your limbs. The fur cloak wrapped around you smells faintly of the woods, and its warmth is comforting. As your body continues to defrost, the reality of your situation sets in. You were alone in the storm, and without this stranger’s intervention, you might not have survived.

“You saved me,” you mutter softly, your voice tinged with awe.

He nods, but his gaze drops, as though he’s embarrassed by the admission. A complete stranger around your age just saved you?

You shiver involuntarily, the cold still clinging to your edges. Without thinking, you press closer to him, seeking out the warmth he offers with the chaos that occupies your mind. His body stiffens slightly, his golden eyes flickering with something you can’t quite name, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he adjusts his hold on you, his arm tightening around your shoulders as he pulls the cloak more securely around you both.

“Don’t let go,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

His eyes widen, surprise flashing across his features. For a moment, he looks as though he might speak, but instead, he nods, his grip on you firm and steady.

Did you…just ask him to hold you? You, that foreign but stunning girl he just met? To be honest, he didn’t have the chance to greet a lot of females those past years.

But none of them were as stunning as you. None of them made him take off his mask, let alone force him to stare for hours.

“You’re still cold,” he murmurs, his voice soft, almost shy.

You don’t answer, instead nestling deeper into his warmth by instinct. The steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek is soothing, a rhythm you didn’t realize you needed until now. You haven’t felt this safe in a long time.

As the minutes stretch on, the tension in his body begins to ease. His hands, large and calloused, adjust the cloak again, and his movements are careful, almost tender.

“Thank you. For saving me.”

He meets your gaze, and for a moment, you think you see a faint blush dust his cheeks, though it’s hard to tell in the dim firelight.

“You… shouldn’t have been out there,” he replies, his tone laced with quiet worry.

“I didn’t expect the storm,” you admit.

“I was trying to make it to shelter.”

His brows furrow slightly, and he glances toward the cave entrance, as though still wary of the storm beyond.

“You’re safe now,” he mumbles, his golden eyes meeting yours again.

The warmth of his arms, the gentle crackling of the fire, and the safety of the cave create a bubble of peace you hadn’t thought possible after the chaos of the storm. Slowly, your eyelids grow heavy again, but this time, the exhaustion feels manageable – bearable, even tolerable with his warmth wrapping around you like a blanket.

“Stay,” you murmur, your voice tinged with sleepiness as you clutch the edge of his cloak.

His eyes soften, and though he says nothing, his arm around you tightens ever so slightly.

“I’ll stay,” he whispers after a moment, his voice so quiet it’s almost lost in the crackling of the fire.

And as you drift off, warm and secure in the arms of this stranger, you can’t help but feel like you’ve found something more than just shelter from the storm.

Jae-Ha

The storm hits hard, the sea turning into a thrashing beast of dark waves and biting wind. Snow whirls through the air, sticking to the decks and the sails of the pirate ship as it rocks and creaks against the violent ocean. Jae-Ha stands near the prow, his sharp emerald eyes scanning the endless horizon of white and grey. Huh, what an unpleasant surprise. He was never able to enjoy the gashing wind of white, especially while being out on the dark sea.  

The captain barks orders to the crew, their voices rising above the howling wind as they secure the rigging and steer the ship away from the worst of the waves. But Jae-Ha’s focus is elsewhere. Something feels off today, the way the shore in the distance moves feels so foreign.

It’s then he sees something - or rather someone. A small, fragile figure hovering unsteadily on a drifting piece of wreckage, bobbing dangerously close to the jagged rocks.

“Captain!” Jae-Ha calls, his voice slicing through the storm like a blade.

The captain turns, her face grim.

“What is it, brat?”

“Someone’s out there,” Jae-Ha replies, pointing toward the figure.

The captain hesitates, glancing at the churning sea and the relentless storm.

“The waves are too rough. It’s suicide to go out now. Even for you.”

Jae-Ha’s smile is sharp and determined as he steps toward the ship’s edge.

“Fortunately for them, I’m not particularly afraid of a little danger.”

Without waiting for permission, he leaps into the air, his dragon’s leg propelling him high above the waves. The cold wind cuts through him, but he doesn’t falter, his gaze locked on you.

You’re barely clinging to the broken plank of wood, your fingers numb and stiff from the freezing spray. Your body is drenched, the cold seeping into your bones, and your strength is fading fast. Each wave threatens to drag you under, and you’re starting to think this is it.

Oh, you definitely didn’t expect your life to end like this. Just yesterday, you knocked on that door asking for work before ending up as a prisoner ready to get sold.

Is this really how your life ends now? In that cold sea you normally love so much looking at, the ocean you long for each and every night, now your ice cold grave?

Then, out of nowhere, a shadow appears above you. A man descends from the sky like a vision, his green hair flowing wildly in the wind, his piercing gaze locked onto you. Before you can process what’s happening, strong arms wrap around you, lifting you effortlessly from the icy grip of the sea.

“Got you,” he comments, his voice warm and steady despite the chaos around you.

You barely manage to look up at him, your vision blurry and your lips too cold to form words. He holds you securely, his body radiating warmth, and you can’t help but lean into him as your consciousness fades, forcing you straight into sweet nothingness.

When you wake, the first thing you notice is the warmth. Soft blankets are wrapped around you, and a flickering lantern casts a warm glow over the small cabin you’re in. The sound of muffled voices and the creaking of a ship’s hull reaches your ears, and the faint smell of salt and damp wood lingers in the air.

“Ah, so you’re finally awake,” a smooth, teasing voice declares.

You turn your head and see a man – without any doubt, the one who saved you from that cold sea. He’s sitting beside the bed you’re lying in, his long legs crossed gracefully, his chin resting on one hand as he watches you with a playful smile.

“Where…?” you croak, your throat dry and your voice weak.

You’re still feeling too weak to even think properly, the cold still sitting in your core.

 “You’re on the Sea Dragon,” he replies, leaning back slightly.

“A pirate ship, if that doesn’t scare you too much. Though I’d say you’ve been through scarier things lately.”

The memories come rushing back - the storm, the waves, the freezing cold. You shiver at the thought, and his smile softens.

“Easy there,” he coos, leaning forward to tuck the blankets more securely around you.

His hands are warm, his touch surprisingly gentle for someone with such a commanding presence and piercing gaze.

“You’re safe now.”

You blink up at him, taking in his striking features. His green hair falls loosely around his shoulders, and his violet eyes are both sharp and kind. There’s a mischievous glint to him, but beneath it lies something deeper, something steady and reassuring.

“Thank you,” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckles softly, the sound rich and comforting in your still echoing ears.

“No need to thank me. It’s not every day I get to play the hero. Though I must say, you certainly know how to make an entrance - floating out there like some tragic damsel in distress.”

His tone is light, teasing, but there’s genuine concern in his gaze as he reaches out to brush a strand of damp hair from your face.

“You’ve been through a lot. Just focus on warming up for now”, he continues with a soft tone lacing his seductive voice.

As he speaks, he pours a steaming cup of tea from a kettle on the small table beside the bed. He holds it out to you, his movements graceful but deliberate.

“Here. This should help.”

You take the cup with trembling hands, the heat seeping into your fingers. He doesn’t look away, his watchful eyes ensuring you’re steady before he releases the cup.

For a while, the two of you sit in silence, the storm still raging outside but feeling a world away within the cozy cabin.

“Why… did you save me?” you ask eventually, your voice small.

Back in your hometown, nobody really cared for something apart from your looks. You were always expected to marry one of those stinky officers, the most disturbing man living on this earth. To be honest, you would’ve rather died on there on the sea than marrying a man who beats a woman just for the fun of it. But that man sitting next to you…Does the sparkle in his eyes mean that he genuinely cares?

Jae-Ha’s smile softens, and he leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Because I could,” he replies simply.

“And because no one deserves to be left alone out there.”

There’s a sincerity in his voice that catches you off guard, a vulnerability beneath his teasing exterior.

“Dying out there on the sea would have been better than getting sold to one of those disgusting officers”, you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

Jae-Ha’s eyes widen slightly at your outburst, the corners of his teasing smile faltering. For a moment, his playful demeanor slips, revealing a flicker of anger - not directed at you, but at the cruel fate you narrowly escaped. He heard rumors about beautiful girls getting kidnapped and sold, how they got ripped out of their homes straight into slavery and old men’s beds. How much he hates them, how badly he wants to hunt them down and kill them for doing…

His gaze meets your still haunted eyes, your empty expression. No, this isn’t the time to think about something like that.

Then, just as quickly, his grin returns, though softer and less sharp this time.

“Is that so?” he muses, his voice warm and low.

“Then I suppose I’ve done more than save your life - I’ve rescued you from a fate far worse than the sea’s cold embrace.”

He leans closer, his intense gaze locking with yours.

“You’ve certainly had quite the adventure, haven’t you?”

His words carry a touch of humor, but there’s no denying the genuine concern in his tone. He reaches out again, his fingertips brushing a damp strand of hair from your cheek. Oh, if he only knew what a mess your life was until now.

Until now? Your eyes lock with his out of instinct, take in that easy grin that rests on his face. Even though you don’t even know that stranger’s name, he surely feels better than that miserable fate that was ahead of you. Maybe, just maybe…

You’re safe now.

You find yourself sinking deeper into the warm cocoon of the blankets, the heat from the tea in your hands finally reaching your core. Despite the lingering fatigue and the faint tremor in your limbs, you feel safer here than you ever did back home.

Jae-Ha studies your expression, his smile taking on a softer, almost fond quality.

“You’re quite the mystery, you know. And I’d love to hear the full story someday. But for now, let’s focus on getting you back to feeling human again.”

You nod weakly, your eyelids growing heavier by the second. The warmth, his soothing voice, and the rhythmic creaking of the ship are lulling you into a much-needed rest. As your grip on the tea cup slackens, Jae-Ha deftly takes it from you, setting it aside with practiced ease.

“Don’t fight it,” he murmurs, his tone softening even further.

“You need rest. And I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Promised?”, you mutter.

“Totally promised, fine lady.”

You barely register his words as sleep overtakes you. Your body shifts slightly, instinctively seeking out the closest source of warmth. Before either of you realizes it, your hand finds his, your fingers curling weakly around his as you drift off. Your head tilts, leaning toward him, and before long, you’re nestled against his arm.

Jae-Ha freezes for a moment, caught off guard by your unconscious closeness. His expression softens further, a mix of amusement and tenderness playing across his features.

“Well, aren’t you full of surprises,” he murmurs to himself, his voice barely audible above the muffled storm outside.

Carefully, he adjusts his position, allowing you to lean against him more comfortably. He pulls the blankets higher, tucking them securely around you, his movements uncharacteristically cautious. As your breathing evens out, Jae-Ha leans back slightly, watching you with an expression that’s unusually serious for him.

“Rest easy,” he whispers, his voice almost lost in the gentle creak of the ship.

“No one’s going to hurt you now.”

And despite the storm raging outside, the cabin feels like the calmest place in the world.

Kija

The snowstorm came down on you with an almost vengeful fury, battering your body with icy wind and stinging flakes of snow when you only went out to find medicine for your mother. Each step is a struggle, your limbs growing heavier by the second. The forest path is long gone, erased by the blizzard’s wrath, and all you can do is press forward in the hope of finding shelter. A warm place, maybe even a fire…

Your cloak is soaked through, its weak protection no match for the elements. Every breath leaves a sharp sting against your throat, and your vision blurs as exhaustion sinks deeper into your bones.

“Just… a little further,” you whisper to yourself, though the words barely reach your ears over the roar of the storm.

You don’t know how much longer you can last. But just when you’re about to lose hope, faintly, through the swirling snow, you see a light - a small, warm glow flickering against the white chaos.

Desperate, you stumble toward it, your legs barely holding you upright. Is it a cave, a little village, even? The glow grows brighter, steadier, and soon you see its source: a man holding a lantern at the edge of an enormous rock. His white hair gleams in the dim light, and his piercing blue eyes widen in alarm as they lock onto you.

What a strangely beautiful man, something you’re never seen before. Maybe he’ll be able to help you, maybe he knows a place where both of you can stay-

Before you can call out to him, your strength gives out, and you collapse into the snow.

“Hey!”

His voice is sharp with concern, and within moments, he’s at your side, kneeling in the snow.

You distantly feel his hands on your shoulders, warm and strong, as he lifts you into his arms. Normally, you’d protest vehemently against a stranger picking you up and carrying you like a bag of rice. But under this conditions, with your fingertips already numb from the nagging cold, you can’t help but nuzzle against his neck.

“You’re freezing,” he murmurs, his voice laced with worry.

“Hold on - I’ll get you somewhere safe.”

Somewhere safe, huh? While darkness stretches over you like a veil, you can’t help but imagine a warm bed near a fireplace with that stranger lying beside you…

When you come to, the first thing you notice is the crackling of a fire and the soft scent of pine. Warmth envelopes you, the biting cold a distant memory now. Your eyelids flutter open, and you find yourself lying on a bed of soft furs, a thick blanket tucked snugly around you.

“Awake at last,” a gentle voice says.

You turn your head to see the man from the storm. He’s seated beside the fire, his elegant features illuminated by its glow. His white hair cascades over his shoulders, and the faint markings on his pale skin catch the light, giving him an otherworldly appearance.

You fainted. When did you lose consciousness? How did you end up here?

“You gave me quite the scare,” he continues, his tone light but tinged with genuine relief.

“Where…?”

 Your voice comes out hoarse, barely above a whisper.

“You’re safe,” he assures you.

“We’re in my residence, not far from where I found you. The storm hasn’t let up, but this place will keep you warm and dry until it passes.”

His words are reassuring, but your thoughts are still sluggish, the events of the blizzard a hazy blur in your mind. Your gaze wanders around the well-decorated room without a real aim, taking in the gorgeous sight of white dragons engraved into the ceiling above.

“You saved me,” you say softly, the realization dawning on you.

He smiles faintly, his gaze steady and kind.

“I couldn’t leave you out there. You were half-buried in snow by the time I reached you.”

He reaches for a steaming cup beside the fire and offers it to you.

“Here. It’s a medicinal tea. It should help warm you from the inside.”

You accept it gratefully, your trembling hands barely able to hold the cup steady. His fingers briefly brush against yours as he steadies it, the contact sending a strange warmth through you that most definitely has nothing to do with the tea.

“Thank you,” you mutter after taking a cautious sip.

He inclines his head, a soft flush coloring his cheeks.

“There’s no need for thanks. Helping others is… important to me.”

The minutes stretch into hours as the two of you wait out the storm. He tends to the fireplace with practiced care, occasionally glancing over to check on you. Despite the fierce wind howling outside, the well-decorated room feels like a sanctuary, the warmth of the fire and his quiet presence a balm to your frayed nerves.

Eventually, you find your voice again.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Kija,” he replies, his tone gentle but measured.

“I was passing through the area when the storm hit.”

He hesitates, his gaze dropping to the fire.

“I didn’t expect to find anyone else out in such conditions. But I watched you from the window and couldn’t leave you out there alone.”

You nod, still trying to piece together how you ended up here.

“I was gathering herbs. I thought I could make it back before the weather turned, but…”

A small, wry smile tugs at his lips.

“The mountains are unpredictable. You’re fortunate my village is nearby.”

His words aren’t boastful - they’re simply true. Still, you can’t help but feel a pang of gratitude for this kind stranger who had risked the storm to save you.

As the fire crackles on, the two of you fall into an easy rhythm of conversation. Kija’s calm demeanor and soft-spoken nature put you at ease, and you find yourself opening up in ways you hadn’t expected.

When another gust of wind rattles the small cracks underneath the window, you shiver involuntarily, the memory of the storm still fresh in your mind.

“Are you still cold?” Kija asks, his brow furrowing with concern.

“A little,” you admit, though you try to downplay it.

After all, Kija just opened up about him successor of something that is called the white dragon, a droplet of dragon blood that gave him the power of a dragon’s claw. He’s like a king in this village, a god to the people who look up to him. How did you never hear about the four dragons before?

Without a word, he shifts closer to you, wrapping the edges of the blanket more securely around your shoulders. His hand lingers for a moment, warm and steady against your arm.

“You’re shaking. Come closer to the fire.”

You hesitate, but the genuine worry in his eyes convinces you. He adjusts his position, leaving just enough space for you to sit beside him.

As you settle near the fire, his proximity sends a new kind of warmth through you - one that has nothing to do with the flames. You glance at him, taking in the way his features soften as he watches the firelight dance.

“Thank you,” you mumble again, the words feeling inadequate for the depth of your gratitude.

He turns to you, a gentle smile gracing his lips.

“You don’t have to keep thanking me.”

“I mean it,” you insist, your voice trembling slightly.

“If you hadn’t found me…”

Kija’s smile fades, and he looks down, his expression turning serious.

“You don’t need to think about that. You’re here now. Safe. That’s all that matters.”

Something in his voice - a quiet resolve, a protective instinct - makes your heart ache in the best way. Despite the storm raging outside, you feel more at peace than you have in days, maybe weeks.

For a moment, the two of you simply sit there, the silence between you filled with unspoken understanding. The fire crackles on, and outside, the storm slowly begins to ease.

Just like the storm inside you.

[inbloomwriting]

a kiss that I kept II Jamie Tartt

Plot: Jamie Tartt was 9 years old when he met the love of his life. He considers himself lucky to have met her at such a young age. He considers himself a damn fool for fucking it up later on though. Pairing: Jaime Tartt x female reader Warnings: Swearing, mentions of food and alcohol, mentions of Jamie's dad. Notes: Friends to idiots to lovers. Inspired by "Simple Song" by the Shins Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please

When I was just nine years old I swear that I dreamed Your face on a football field And a kiss that I kept Under my vest Apart from everything But the heart in my chest

There’s something cathartic about being back home in Manchester. Not as a footballer, just as Jamie. When he doesn’t have to be phenomenal, when he doesn’t have to perform and win. When he doesn’t have to try so damn hard to give his dad a reason to be proud of him.

Without those expectations and without the pressure, it feels good to be home. It’s a part of his childhood that is untouched by his father’s malice. It’s pure and joyful and precious.

He’s not Jamie Tartt, golden child and footballer extraordinaire. He’s cousin Jamie. He’s Jamie from down the road. He’s Georgie’s boy. 

It’s been a while since he’s been back, been even longer since he’s seen any of his extended family but being back now, it feels like hardly any time has passed. Millie has always been his favorite cousin so when the envelope showed up in his mailbox, all fancy paper and swirly font, there was no hesitation in him. Nothing could keep him from attending her wedding.

She’s a beautiful bride, all flowy dress and flowers in her hair. It’s almost hard to believe she’s the same kid that used to run around the neighborhood with Jamie, getting into trouble wherever they could find it. But somewhere between chiffon and carnations that little girl still exists. He wonders if the little boy he used to be is still alive somewhere inside of him. He hopes he’s proud of who he grew up to be. Sometimes he doubts it. 

His eyes wander across the room, the reception is in full swing, people are talking, laughing, celebrating. Love is radiating from every smile. Though Jamie doesn’t really care all too much about that if he’s being completely honest, he only cares about one particular smile. 

And when he catches sight of her, leaning against the bar with a glass of champagne in hand, wearing a gorgeous powder pink dress and daisies in her hair, he’s certain his heart misses a beat. 

It would be an understatement to call (Y/N) his best childhood friend. Friend was never a big enough word to describe what she meant to Jamie — what she still means to him. 

Jamie Tartt was 9 years old when he met the love of his life. He considers himself lucky to have met her at such a young age. He considers himself a damn fool for fucking it up later on though. 

“Are you planning on talking to me anytime soon or do you just want to stare at me all day, Tartt?” 

She says it with the same sense of mischief she’s always held. Like a silent promise of adventure perpetually hidden in her words. 

“I was going to — eventually.” 

“Well, eventually is not good enough for me. I missed you, Jamie.” 

It’s only when she pulls him into a hug that he realizes just how much that sentiment is reciprocated. The familiar scent of lavender and the feel of her body against his, it all brings up so many memories of times long gone. This, Jamie thinks, is as close to time travel as humans will ever get.

He is suddenly 9 years old, playing soccer on the field just down the road from his house. His football is old and slightly inflated and some of the hexagons are flaking off, just holding on by a single tread. His goal is no real goal and all but two plastic bottles functioning as make-believe goalposts.

 The air smells like sunscreen and summer and dust and life is easy for a moment. He gets to do what he loves without having to prove anything to anyone. Football is just a game here, something to pass the time. It’s fun.

He does kicks and jumps and trick shots and it doesn’t matter if he messes up. He can fail without having to fear any repercussions. There is no one there to judge him for it. Failure is a byproduct of trying not a sign of weakness. 

Just as he is about to line up another shot at the makeshift goal, he sees her across the football field. At 9 years old, Jamie doesn’t know a lot of things but he’s quite certain she’s the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. For a moment he wonders if she’s a dream, an illusion. Then she steps closer, comes walking towards him with that bright smile of hers and the glimmer of excitement shining in her eyes. 

“You’re really good,” she says. He’s heard that a few times before, it never mattered then because he wasn’t good enough, not to his father at least. It matters when this stranger says it though, because she’s pretty and because she has no reason to lie to him. 

“Thanks. I’m Jamie.”

“You’re bleeding.” 

His eyes follow to where she points at his right knee and sure enough, it’s scraped up, a drop of blood running down his leg.

“Does it hurt?” 

Jamie shrugs as if to let her know that it’s not a big deal. It does sting quite a bit now that she pointed it out to him. He’s not gonna let her know that though, girls don’t like soft boys who whine about scraped knees.

“I have a plaster if you want one. So you don’t get any dirt in the wound.” 

She doesn’t even wait for an answer, just rummages through her purse that’s shaped like a little poodle, and pulls out a plaster. Jamie holds out his hand though she doesn’t pay it any attention, just kneels down and softly, so fucking softly, put the plaster over his wound. It’s the first time he smells her lavender shampoo, the first time she smiles at him, and the first time she sends his heart racing. 

“I’m (Y/N), by the way.” 

And his life has not been the same since.

“ I missed you too.” 

It’s the truth. He missed her terribly. But sometimes it’s hard to reconcile who he is with who he used to be. Who he is now with the person she used to love.

“Could’ve fooled me, you don’t even answer my insta DMs, you ass.” 

Even when she curses him out, she regards him with infinite affection. 

The girl that put a plaster on his bleeding knee is now a whole woman, but the kindness is still the exact same. The softness she holds for him is still there.

“To be fair I hardly check those. They scare me, honestly.” 

“At least your mum updates me on your life. She was always my favorite Tartt anyway.” 

He loves how much she loves his mum and how much mum loves her. There is something so inexplicably comforting in knowing the people you love most share a bond. 

“Think you’re her favorite too.” 

“Oh yeah, I know I am.” 

Her laughter rings through the air like the sweetest song he’s ever heard. It’s so awfully cheesy, his own thoughts almost make him barf. But she just has that effect on him. 

“You look beautiful today, (Y/N).” 

“Today?” she asks in mock offense and though he knows it’s really just a joke, he feels the need to explain himself.

“Don’t get me wrong. You’re always proper fit but that dress? You look like a fucking angel.” 

The way she bites her lip slightly and bashfully averts her eyes for a second, is a success in his book. 

She really does look gorgeous, a whole vision of perfection. The pink dress, the flowers — the necklace. 

A shiny rose gold charm sparkles in the light, resting gently against her skin. Heart-shaped like his feelings for her. He knows the pendant opens up and he knows exactly what he’ll find if he were to open it. 

His lips lift in an involuntary smirk.

“What’s that look for, Jam?” 

“You still got the necklace.”

She places a gentle hand against her chest, against the heart-shaped charm.

“Obviously. I will never ever ever get rid of it. I love it. You stole this for me!”

He was 14 and stupid and head-over-heels in love. He still remembers the sticky heat of the summer clinging to his skin, the taste of watermelon on his tongue, and the thought of her on his mind. 

They spent all day riding their bikes around town with nowhere to be and everywhere to go. It was a good day, a phenomenal day. She shared her ice cream cup with him and held his hand on the way back to their bikes. It was a phenomenal day and Jamie was not ready to let it end just yet. Not when he couldn’t stop thinking about the way her eyes lit up as she looked at that necklace in the shop window. 

In retrospect, it was an extraordinarily dumb idea, one of his worst to date, but it made her smile. The way she smiled at him when he gave her the necklace that he stole for her, that made it all worth it. The yelling from mum and the being grounded and the having to pay back the money by working at the store for 3 whole months that summer. 

Her smile made it all worth it.

“Mum was so mad at me that day.”

“Well, you did commit theft, so —” 

“Worth it though. Made you smile.” 

“Oh, Jam you— “ 

The nickname gives him shaky knees, the interruption by the DJ gives him a fucking headache.

“May all the unmarried ladies please report to the dance floor, it’s time for the bouquet toss.” 

“That’s my queue, I guess. Save me a dance, Jamie Tartt.” 

He will save her every damn dance in his life. They are all hers if she wants them.

She stands in the middle of the dancefloor, surrounded by a bunch of other women, a flicker of friendly competitiveness shining in her eyes. If she’s joining in on the bouquet toss, that means she’s not married, does that mean she’s single? 

Of course, he could’ve asked mum, she knows for sure, but that would just open a whole different can of worms. You don’t ask your own mum if the girl you’ve been in love with since you were 9 years old, is single. You just don’t, no matter how badly you want to know.

The DJ starts playing Girls just wanna have fun, (Y/N) hated that song. “It’s awfully overplayed”, she said one time they were driving in his car, before changing the station. 

She must still hate it judging by the grimace that falls over her face for a mere second before she catches herself and puts another polite smile back on her lips. 

Millie stands before the group of women, back towards her friends, and bouquet raised in the air before counting down.

One 

Two

Three

The flowers fly through the air and land in the hands of a girl whose name Jamie can’t recall but she’s definitely one of the bridesmaids. Chelsea? Cristy? Something like that. She looks elated, a guy leaning against the bar looks mortified. 

(Y/N) seems thoroughly unbothered by it all as she strolls back across the dance floor toward Jamie. 

“Do you want me to congratulate you or give you my condolences?” 

She just laughs and shakes her head “It’s not like I have any suitors waiting for me to offer them my hand in marriage anyway.” 

So she is single. Not that it matters or anything. It’s good to know though.

His eyes sweep across her face, then her hair, where one of the daisies is barely holding on and just about to fall off. Without giving it another thought, as if moving on autopilot, Jamie gingerly plucks the flower from her hair and places it behind her ear. There’s something about her that makes him want to be soft, that allows him to be soft. 

“Almost lost one.” 

“Thank you, Jamie.” 

The tenderness in her words almost sends him to his knees. When you’re used to words being sharp and bitter it’s hard to accept when they are silky and delicate. 

“You have the saddest eyes, Jam. What’s bothering you?” 

There is a big long metaphorical list of all the things that rest so heavy on his heart. The pressure of having to be the best version of himself at all times. The feeling of failure always creeping up on him. The fear of messing up. The idea of not being good enough. 

The reminder of what could’ve been and of all that isn’t.

He has a whole big list of things that make him sad — he doesn’t say any of that though. Just shrugs his shoulders in nonchalance. 

“Don’t know what you mean, I’m chuffed. Doing fan-fucking-tastic.” 

She can read him like a book, always could. Jamie doesn’t know why he even tries to fool her, it’s not going to work either way.

“I know that’s a lie,” (Y/N) scoffs then regards him with a look he can’t place. It’s a mix between pity and something else, something warm and comforting. “I’m not going to force you to talk to me about it. I’m aware we aren’t as close as we used to be but I just want you to know that I am always in your corner, Jamie. Always.” 

He has no doubt she means what she says but Jamie isn’t sure she really knows what she’s talking about. She knew him as a little kid, an awkward teenager, a misguided 20-year-old. She doesn’t know this new version of him. Bitter and a little lost — or maybe a lot.

Jamie isn’t sure this new him deserves her loyalty.

"There's something that does make me sad, actually."

"What's that?"

"The fact that I’ve not had a single slice of cake yet. That’s why I’m here, innit?”

“And I thought you were here to celebrate your cousin getting married.” 

“Common misconception, really. I mean I am — but mostly it’s about the cake. Technically I’m on a diet but it's a wedding, that doesn’t count. We all know that.” 

They both know he’s just talking out of his ass. Of course, he’s here for Millie. For the wedding and the family get together and all of it. And even a little for (Y/N). Because he really did miss her … so fucking badly.

“Oh well, let’s go get us some cake then. Can’t have you starving, not Jamie Tartt — the island’s top scorer.” 

Jamie has done a lot of things in his life that he isn’t particularly proud of. He tries to see them all as learning opportunities, cautionary tales for a future him. Doesn’t mean he likes to think about them. Especially not his short but quite memorable stint on the dating show Lust conquers all. All the worst parts of him put on display for everyone to see and discuss and judge, every night at 8pm. 

“You watched that then?”

“Uh, obviously?! What’s a best friend’s job if not to laugh about you while you make a fool of yourself on a dating reality tv show?” 

It warms him from the inside out, to hear that she still considers him her best friend. He’s not sure he’s been very good at it in the last few years. Has barely talked to her. But then again, who makes the rules? Maybe some people are bound together so tightly from the very beginning that neither time nor distance can break them apart. 

“I’ll have you know that I was number one on famous birthdays the day after I got eliminated from the show. So, who’s laughing now?” 

“Were you? How long did that last?” 

“Like a day, maybe 2. Then it went back to John Krasinsky, fucking wanker.” 

“Aw babe, well you’ll always be my favorite person born on October 20th. “ she says as they both come to stand by the table decked out in cakes and other desserts. “ I do like the office though, hmm…” 

"Oh, sod off. You’re breaking my fucking heart.”

He likes the way she hugs his arm in mock apology. She’s not sorry, in fact, she’s still laughing. It doesn’t matter if she’s laughing with or about him though. As long as there is a smile on her face, that’s good enough for him.

“Sorry. Can I make it up to you?” 

Jamie nudges her shoulder with his, the way they always did when they were kids. That little boy that was so in love with her, he’s slowly but surely clawing his way to the surface again. Breaking free from Jamie’s ribcage where he has been kept hidden for such a long time now.

“Well, what about that cake then?” 

The neon lights dip her in shades of blues and pinks and purples as she twirls on the dancefloor, weaving in and out of the crowd. Jamie is sure he’s seen this very moment in a dream of his before. 

“Oh, you look so handsome, my baby. Are you having a good time?” 

His mother’s voice cuts through his hazy daydreams as she plops down on the chair next to him. No matter how old he gets, Jamie doesn’t think he’ll ever grow tired of his mother’s affection. Her unshaken faith in him and her unwavering belief that he is a good man, after all.

“You’re my mum, you have to say that.”

“Absolutely not! Remember when you had that dangly earring? I told you right out you looked like a muppet.” 

“Yeah you did,” he nods and takes a sip of his beer “Crushed me, honestly. Loved that earring. Thought I looked well cool.” 

“Well, you know who didn’t hate it? (Y/N).” 

That gets his attention. Eyebrows raised he takes his eyes off of the girl in question and turns fully towards his mother.

“How would she know? She didn’t see it.” 

“Yes, she did. I showed her a picture when we had girls night.” 

It's a nice image, his mum and (Y/N) having girls night. Sure, having them team up on him is terrifying, but he can't help but relish in the fact that his loves love each other so dearly. 

"Girls night, huh? You ladies talk about me a lot then?"

"Are you joking?" 

The way his mum raises her eyebrow is so familiar. It's the same damn expression he sees in himself all the time.

"That girl has been in love with you since you were kids. Of course, we talk about you a lot. You're all we talk about, Jamie. "

As a kid, Jamie always wondered what it felt like to put your finger straight into an electrical outlet. He never did it, obviously. But there was some strong curiosity there.

This is what it must feel like. Hearing his mother say that (Y/N) is in love with him, that's what it must feel like

Electric shocks straight to the heart.

“What?” 

His mum just shakes her head, there’s that smile pulling at her lips. That typical mother's smile that tells you that they know you so much better than you know yourself.

“Come on now, Jamie. You know this is how she feels, everyone does. She adores you. Same way you adore her. That is how you feel, isn’t it?” 

Of course, it is. She’s everything. She feels like an ocean being warmed by the sun. Warm and inviting and comforting. Beautiful. Tender. Soft.

“Don’t matter really, does it? We haven’t talked in so long. Doubt she even knows me well enough anymore.” 

“She watches every match, goes to most of them if she can. She even bought that video game you’re on. Girl is almost as proud of you as I am. Look love, “ Mum rests a gentle hand on his arm. “I don’t know half the things that are bothering you right now but I do know that you’re struggling. I just want you to know that you are not a bad person, Jamie. The little boy you used to be deserved to be loved and so does the man you are now. You made bad choices but you still deserve love. We all make bad decisions sometimes. I know I made a lot of them when I was younger.” 

“Hah, like having me.”

He passes it off as a joke but there’s a hint of truth swinging along. She was really young when she had him and while he knows she doesn’t resent him for it, he wonders if maybe her life would’ve turned out better had he not come along. Mum loves him unconditionally and she always makes sure he knows it so it’s a silly thing to think about really. It’s a fleeting thought and it really only shows itself when he’s already deep in his thoughts but when it does, it sends him spiraling. 

The slap to the arm is not friendly or in good humor, that one is meant to sting.

“Don’t you ever say that again. You are my life, Jamie. I love you. Having you was the best decision I’ve ever made. You hear me?” 

It’s dumb really, he knows Mum loves him. It’s always been them against the world (or well, them against dad, really). But sometimes his head gets so loud and fills itself with stupid thoughts.

“Yeah, of course. Sorry. I love you, mama.” 

“Love you too, my baby boy. And I am so proud of everything you ever did, okay? Except maybe the earring.” 

A chuckle falls from Jamie’s lips. “The earring was a bad idea, I got it.”

“Good. Now go dance with your girl, yeah? You two are driving me crazy.” 

His girl. His girl wraps her arms around his neck when he walks up to her on the dancefloor. His girl looks up at him with the most radiant smile. His girl who feels like the sun and smells like lavender and wraps his heart in silk and sweet memories.

“Finally, thought I was going to have to drag you onto the dancefloor. You still owe me a dance.” 

“Sorry. Not much of a slow dancer, yeah? I do know some great boy band choreographies though, and the cha-cha slide.” 

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. Coach made us learn a full N'sync routine for Doctor Sharon's going away party. She didn't show up but I was fucking ace. I’m sure Keeley has a video of it somewhere.” 

She grants him a smile though it doesn't reach her eyes.

"How is Keeley? How are you guys?"

There's an edge to her words and if he didn't know better he'd call it jealousy. But that doesn't make sense … right?

There's no him and Keeley, at least not in the way she's asking about. There never will be. Keeley is one of his favorite people but her friendship means so much more than any fickle try on upholding a relationship doomed to fail. Jamie thinks there's something brave and mature about that realization.

"She's good. We're good. Friends I mean. Good friends."

"No more dating?"

"Nah she's dating one of my best friends. Hated it at first but they're kinda perfect for each other. It's a bit disgusting, really."

Those words manage to pull the smile all the way up to reach her eyes. It's magnificent. Spectacular. A laugh tumbles from her lips, a sound so sweet if he were to taste it, he's sure it would put the most delicious honey to shame.

"You know," Jamie speaks and pulls her closer as they absentmindedly sway along to the music " I never thanked you."

"For what?"

"For the phone call that one night."

It was just after Manchester had kicked him out. No one wanted to sign him. He had burned bridges with everyone who ever stood by him and gave him a chance and Jamie had never felt more lost and more alone.

He just needed someone. A piece of home. A reminder of the 9-year-old boy who loved football for the fun of it all. He needed her. 

He hadn't expected her to pick up that night, he really didn’t deserve it. But she did. Of course, she did. She always did.

"You don't have to thank me for that, Jamie. You are you and I am me and I will always pick up the phone for you."

It's such a simple thought. The most basic of all concepts. You are you and I am me and there will always be a space for us in my life and yours.

"I just - I felt very alone and lost and I hated the person I was then. It was like I was some boat or something, stuck on a cliff. And then when I talked to you and you had my back anyway it was like all my fears that I told you about suddenly disappeared, you know? Like you sent me a wave, a flood and gave my boat a lift over the rocks. I know it sounds fucking silly but Ted has me reading all these books with the big words. Making me feel all smart and philosophical."

She's so gentle when she combs her fingers through his hair, tugging some strands back behind his ear. He will never grow tired of soft touches and even softer looks.

"Jamie, even if I didn't like the person you were then, I loved you anyway. I don't have to like you to love you. Loving someone means accepting that they make mistakes but giving them room to become the person you know they can be. You wanted to change for the better and honestly, I think you turned out pretty spectacular."

Jamie isn’t quite sure if he will ever grow used to receiving love in the form of comforting words and soft touches but he truly relishes in it, always. 

"Do you wanna get out of here? Party is about to wind down anyway. Don't think anyone's gonna miss us."

The night feels heavy with possibility. 

"Sure, Jam. Where do you wanna go?"

"Doesn't matter. Nowhere. Anywhere. As long as I'm with you."

The glimmer in her eyes tells him she has an idea.

The bench by the side of the field looks the exact same it did when he was a kid. Chipping red paint and rotting wood. Initials in permanent marker forever immortalizing past versions of whoever wrote them down. Time forever frozen.

Jamie is 9 years old again and he is also 11 and 13 and 16 and 25. It’s all the same. It’s all so different.

The field is no field anymore, it’s now a proper little football pitch with a goal on each side. 

“What happened here then? That wasn’t there when we were little.” 

(Y/N) strolls across the field, twirling in her dress illuminated by the moon and the streetlamps. She looks like something out of a movie. He’s sure if he was a smarter man, more poetic, he’d be writing songs about her, poems, books.

 In that book Ted made him read, there’s this one line that Jamie suddenly remembers.

“She was dazzling-- alight; it was agony to comprehend her beauty in a glance”

He thought those were just big words for saying some girl was well fit. He thinks he might get it now.

“Yeah well, some of us put together some money and convinced the neighborhood council to finally turn it into a proper pitch.” 

“Some of you?"

“Mostly your mum, Simon, and I”

She meets his eyes across the field and his heart still does the same silly shimmy it did when he first saw her face. 

“Why?” 

“So another little 9-year-old kid gets to play with actual goals and doesn’t have to use plastic bottles.”

They did it for the kids, the community. But they mostly did it for him, for the child in his heart that never grew up. That is clinging to his insides and that only gets to live in his memories and in the hearts of the people he loves. The people that love him.

(Y/N) leans against one of the goalposts, a smile playing on her lips as Jamie strolls up to stand in front of her, hands buried in the pockets of his pants. His jacket is long forgotten on some chair back at the wedding venue.

“You know”, she says and lets her gaze drift upwards towards the sky. There is too much light to see the stars but Jamie thinks there’s still some kind of comfort knowing they are up there even when you can’t see them. The authors of the books Ted gives him, they’d have some flowery pretentious allegory to tell about all of this. He is no author, he's just a fool in love.

“This is where I had my very first kiss. Right here.” 

Jamie wonders if she knows of the little electric shocks she sends straight to his heart when she lowers her head and looks straight at him while speaking those words.

It’s not news to him. Of course, it’s not. 

He was there. 

“Oh, was it?”

“Yup.” 

“Hope the lad was alright.” 

“He was perfect — for a twelve-year-old. I was also 12 though so I had nothing to compare, really.” 

“What was he like? Lucky kid.” 

“He had this really badly bleached blond hair. Tried to do it at home with a cheap box dye. Didn’t listen when I told him it was a bad idea.” 

“I bet he looked fucking cool.” 

“Had a bit of an ego, that one. Still does. Bit misplaced for someone who looked like Draco Malfoy.” 

“You had a big fat crush on Draco Malfoy.” 

“Yeah,” he doesn’t know when it happens. One moment they’re joking around, strolling down memory lane and the next her hand is in his hair, his hand on her waist, noses almost touching. “I did.” 

“Do you wanna know a secret?” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“That was my first kiss too.” 

There’s a flicker of surprise shining in her eyes.

“Huh? You said your first kiss was with Emma behind the playground.” 

“Well I was lying, wasn’t I? Wanted you to think I’m cool and experienced.” 

“We were 12 you dum dum. And I always thought you were cool.” 

He was not cool at 12. No one is cool at 12. It still makes him weirdly proud to hear her say it. 12-year-old Jamie would be positively buzzing at that revelation.

“I um — Jamie, why did we never talk about it again? I know we were 12 and whatever but it meant something to me. Did it mean anything to you?” 

Some memories, Jamie thinks, are meant to be shared. You want to tell everyone about them over and over again and it feels like you might burst if you don’t share them with others. 

And then there are memories that are meant just for you. Beautiful places to escape to. So you keep them hidden in your chest, apart from everything else but your heart when they beat in sync. And they become part of you. And they keep you alive. That’s where he keeps this kiss. The first one. The only one that ever mattered.

“It means everything to me. But I — I wanted to keep that kiss to myself. That was mine and yours and I didn’t want anyone or anything to ruin that or turn it into something bitter and sad. “

“If I were to kiss you again, would you also want to keep that a secret?” 

He shakes his head, his nose gently nudging her’s with the movement.

“Nah, I’d wanna scream it from the fucking rooftops.” 

When she kisses him he is 9 years old again, seeing his future staring right back at him through the face of a little girl. He is 12 years old kissing her in the field, a kiss he’d kept with his heart ever since. He is 14 crying on the floor of her room the night he got back from the Amsterdam trip with his dad. He is 16 and a prick to everyone but her. 

He is 25 and more in love than he’s ever been.

“50 fucking pence? Are you joking?”

“Nope. Dead serious.” 

“That’s fucking mental.” 

Her laughter echoes through the night as they walk down the familiar streets paved with countless memories. He#s holding her hand and he’s never felt more delighted about anything so simple. 

“They still taste fucking great though.” 

“They do, don’t they?” 

Leave it to (Y/N) to continuously surprise him. As they started their walk back towards her house, she pulled two Cadbury Freddos from her sparkly purse. Jamie can almost feel the sun on his skin from all the walks they did to the corner shop during summer holidays to get some Freddos and a smarties pop-up ice.

“Don’t tell Roy I ate chocolate though, he’s gonna kick me ass.” 

“Your secret’s safe with me.” 

Her childhood home is coming into view just down the road and with it the end of this night. The door is a deep red color, he remembers (Y/N) helping her dad paint it when she was maybe 10 or 11 and her parents never seemed to have changed it since. 

“Soooo what’s happening now?” 

It feels a little silly to ask but Jamie has spent so much time keeping his questions inside of his head and not voicing them to her and he wonders just how much time he wasted because of that. Time he could’ve spent with (Y/N).

“I — I don’t know, Jamie. I want this to be. I want us to be, always did. Probably always will. But I don’t want you to choose me because being home pushed you into some kind of nostalgia-induced stupor or something. I want you to be sure about us. So, how about you sleep on it and tomorrow morning you pick me up for breakfast and we’ll talk? “

If he’s being entirely honest, he doesn’t want to talk. All he wants is to kiss her and then kiss her some more. To make up for every second that he wasted not telling her how he felt. But she is being rational and sensible as always and he has to respect that. Out of the two of them, she was always the reasonable one while Jamie did first and then thought about it later.

“Okay yeah. I’ll see you in the morning then.” 

“Goodnight, Jam.” 

“Night, (Y/N). You look beautiful by the way, not sure I said it.” 

“Thanks, you look very handsome too.” 

There’s an I love you on the tip of his tongue and he so desperately wants to say it but when she places a kiss on his cheek and opens the red door, all his thoughts just slip from his mind.

“Bye, Jamie.” 

“Bye.” 

He stays stuck for a moment or two before his legs slowly carry him down the road. The night is inky black and the street lamps' horrid orange-hued light reflects against the asphalt. 

So many times he’s walked down this exact road wondering what could be. Wondering how to show her how much he loved her. Wondering if someday, somehow they would end up together. 

9-year-old Jamie knew she was his destiny from the moment their eyes met across the football field. What would he think seeing him now, walking away from all he ever wanted? 

What’s that quote from that romcom the team watched together the other day?

“When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”

The shiny black shoes he’s wearing are not meant for running. He figures that out as he turns on the spot and rushes back down the street toward the red door. There is no need for him to sleep on anything. He has never been more sure about anything in his life. Ever.

His heart is racing as he reaches the house, as he knocks on the door, and as he rings the doorbell — for good measure. 

His heart stops when she opens the door, her dress gone and exchanged for a pair of sweatpants and an oversized shirt.

“Jamie? You forgot something?” 

“I don’t need to sleep.”

“What?” 

“I don’t need to sleep on it. I know what I want. I want us, I want you. Always did. Always will. You’re the only person I want to talk to when I feel shit and you’re the first person I want to tell when something good’s happened. I want to ride my bike with you the way we did when we were kids and eat freddos with you even if they’re 50 fucking pence now, which is insane. I want to go to weddings with you and dress up fancy and I want to sit on the couch and watch movies with you we’ve both seen a million times. I want you to make fun of my stupid earring and have you help me dye my hair and I want to kiss you and tell you how beautiful you are every single fucking day. I want everything and anything as long as it involves you. And I don’t need to sleep on it. I am sure.” 

“Jamie?” 

“Yeah?!”

“Kiss me!” 

He doesn’t need to be told twice. 

It feels right, to hold her and to kiss her. Like all his life has been leading up to this moment. To her soft lips on his and her hands in his hair and his hands on her waist.

And he thinks she might just feel the same. She doesn’t need to say it to let him know. She tells him with his tongue, with the gentle touch of her fingers against his skin, with her breath in his lungs. 

He is 9 years old and also 12 and also 14 and 16 and 20 and 25. He is all those versions of himself and each of them was and is in love with (Y/N).

[corroded-hellfire]

Prompt Day 2: In the Beginning

Word Count: 947

Rating: T

Pairing: None

CW: Language, weed

Summary: The guys try to come up with the name for their band.

Special thanks to my darling @offensiunculaee for all the C words, Gareth’s middle name, and inspiring this ❤️

@corrodedcoffinfest

“Alright,” Eddie says as he plops down on one of the ratty old couches in Gareth’s garage. “Last time we managed to figure out we want the word ‘coffin’ in our band. That only took fucking months.” He mumbled that last part to himself before sighing and continuing. “Now we just have to figure out the rest of it.”

In anticipation of this being another long evening, Eddie pulls a joint and a lighter out of his pocket. Gareth’s mom is in the house and will occasionally come into the garage to use the washer and dryer, but the guys have convinced her there’s a family of skunks who like to come and go under the house. That’s why there’s that smell sometimes, of course. 

“Iron Coffin?” Frank suggests.

“Too close to Iron Maiden,” Jeff says, taking the joint from Eddie so he can get a hit. 

“I am Iron Coffin!” Gareth does his best interpretation of the robotic voice that kicks off the song Iron Man. 

“Silver Coffin?” Jeff asks through a cough.

“Reminds me of Silver Surfer,” Gareth says. He twists himself around on the couch so his legs are hanging over the back and his head is upside down, inches from the floor.

“The who?” Frank asks.

“That name’s taken,” Jeff jokes.

“No, who’s the damn Silver Surfer?” Frank clarifies.

Gareth picks his head up enough to stare at Frank, two cushions over from him, as if he’s insulted by the very question. 

“Seriously? From the Fantastic Four?” Gareth says.

“Fucking nerd,” Frank says with a laugh.

“Says the guy who can recite every line the lion says in the Narnia books,” Jeff shoots back.

“His name is Aslan,” Frank defends, his cheeks turning pink. 

“My apologies.” Jeff gives a sarcastic bow—the best he can from his seated position, anyway. 

“Can we get back to naming the band, please?” Eddie asks before taking another hit of the joint.

Gareth stretches his head back to look at Eddie in his upside down position. He throws out his arm and points at Frank.

“He thinks comics are nerdier than Narnia,” Gareth whines. 

Eddie lets his eyes slip closed, the effects of the marijuana kicking in being the only thing keeping him from getting irritated.

“Fantastic Four has the fire dude, that wins right there,” he says.

“Ha!” Gareth gloats.

“What about celestial?” Jeff asks.

“Who’s that?” Gareth asks. He stretches his arm out towards Eddie who hands him the joint.

“No, for our band name. Celestial Coffin.”

Frank tilts his head from side to side, considering it. 

“Meh,” he decides.

“I do like it being two C words, though,” Eddie says. “Maybe a hard C sound, though? Alliteration.”

“Cursed Coffin,” Gareth says. 

This kicks off each band member thinking of any and all words that have the hard C sound.

“Creepy Coffin.”

“Cannibal Coffin.”

“Candy Coffin.”

“Coughin’ Coffin.”

“Commode Coffin.”

“Coffee Coffin.”

“Correlating Coffin.”

“Cunty Coffin.”

The moment the words leave Gareth’s lips, the door opens and his mother gasps. Her brow furrows as she steps into the garage with a laundry basket on her hip.

“Gareth Bartholomew Emerson, I better not have heard what I think I did,” she warns as she stalks over to the washing machine.

Frank snickers. “Bartholomew.”

Gareth punches Frank right in the shin to get him to shut up. 

Mrs. Emerson quickly disappears back into the house and the name game continues.

“Combusting Coffin.”

“Crowded Coffin.”

“Children’s Coffin.”

All the guys stare at Gareth after that one.

“Dude, that’s too fucking dark even for us,” Eddie says. 

“Yeah, doesn’t have the hard C either,” Gareth sighs.

“Cool Coffin.”

“Crunchy Coffin.”

“Corny Coffin.”

“Cantankerous Coffin.”

“Clitoral Coffin,” Frank suggests.

“What’s that mean?” Gareth asks. 

“This is why you don’t have a girlfriend,” Eddie says with a snort of laughter. 

“Girls have asked me out before!” Gareth insists, but other guys ignore him.

“Man, what the fuck are we going to call it?” Eddie asks, rubbing a hand over his tired face. 

Jeff leans forward and holds his head in his hands.

“What would look cool written on the drum set?” he muses. 

“What gives off a metal image when you hear it?” Eddie poses. 

“Now I’m picturing a metal coffin,” Frank says. 

“Is that a thing?” Gareth asks, passing the joint to his couch mate. 

“I don’t think so,” Eddie says. “The metal would get all cor—oh shit.”

“What?” Jeff asks, turning his head to look at his friend. 

A smile slowly grows on Eddie’s lips until it’s a full blown grin. There’s a spark in his eyes as well, Jeff notices. 

“Corroded,” Eddie says. He looks from band member to band member, gauging their reactions. “Corroded Coffin.”

“Holy hell,” Jeff says.

“Well, shit,” Frank says through a laugh.

Gareth rights his position on the ripped plaid couch and leans forward.

“That’s fucking good.” 

Eddie feels proud of himself for coming up with that, not that he’d say that out loud to the guys. But he feels the name rolls off the tongue and sounds pretty damn cool. 

“Corroded Coffin.” Gareth tries the name out. “Yeah. Yeah, I like it.”

“So, we’re agreed?” Jeff asks, looking between his three friends. “We are officially Corroded Coffin?”

“Hell yeah,” Frank answers. 

“Let’s do it,” Gareth adds. 

Jeff looks at Eddie, who still has the ghost of a smile on his face.

“Let me try it out,” Eddie says. He clears his throat and then says in his best Dungeon Master voice, “Madison Square Garden, please welcome…Corroded Coffin!”

The other three pretend to cheer and hoot as the audience. 

Eddie licks over his lips and nods his head. 

“Corroded Coffin it is.”

[sribbles-drabbles]

Hi i stumbled upon you blog and really like your content . ^^

if you get the chance can you do headcanons for BSD. Thanks if you can.

OOOO absolutely!!! I decided to do just some HC's for Sokoku and Shin-Sokoku with a basic gender Neutral S/O!!

Chuuya, Dazai, Akutagawa, Atsushi (separate) x GN!reader

❤️‍🩹Dazai❤️‍🩹

How does one date Osamu Dazai?

You just try your best to fit in with his eccentric personality, amazing mind, and dark past.

You met Dazai through work, as a secretary for the police, and Dazai had come in with a culprit who he and his partner Kunikida caught.

He bragged to you about how he did most of the work, only to receive a smack to the back of the head from his partner.

You laugh, thanking him for his hard work, and your smile struck through his entire being like lightning.

A smile so genuine, so keen, and your eyes that seem to cut him, look through him, unravel him.

He hasn't met anyone like you since Oda.

And from this meeting onward, he comes by the station often to flirt with you.

He'll ask you out over and over until you accept.

Once you accept, there's no going back. He breaks into your apartment often to make dinner, or meets you once you get off work to walk you home.

He'll always ask you to stay the night, not even for sex, but just to cuddle you.

He's oddly enough never invited you to a double...y'know

Mostly because he forms a protectiveness over you and the thought of you dying, especially due to his cohesion is terrifying.

He's often like a cat, and likes his hair played with as he lays his head in your lap.

you often provide him comfort and shelter from his own mind and dark thoughts, even if a temporary distraction it provides relief that he's absolutely grateful for.

Also touch starved, so he's very fond of PDA, he's possessive and just loves the feeling of you against him.

Dazai is a loving and selfish man who desires all of your attention and love, and will give you all he has in return.

🎩Chuuya🎩

You met Chuuya at a bar unsurprisingly

He sat at the barstool of a very bougie bar owned by the port mafia, drinking some expensive Lambrusco

then you sat next to him, calling over the bartender, and ordering a martini

eyes red and puffy, (if you wear makeup then mascara running)

Chuuya looks over at you, setting down his wine, then darts his eyes back straight, trying to avoid getting involved.

He's not exactly the best man when it comes to emotions, especially when it involves crying

If you apologize to him for looking like wreck he'll sigh, groan even, making you feel worse but then ask what happened

you tell him that you got stood up, and his face turns into even more of a annoyed and pissed off scowl

He'll admit, you were cute. So cute as in fact that it felt like a damn crime that you got stood up by a jackass!

Oh no he was drunker than he thought, and in his intoxicated state, he offers something, something that normal Chuuya Nakahara would never...

"Pah, fuck him. Why not have a drink with me? I'll be your damn date..." he slurs.

This makes you blush and giggle, accepting his offer.

And what a great decision it was, you both had a great time, and you bring him back to your apartment. Nothing ensues however, as you both collapse onto the couch, snoring away.

Chuuya is the type of partner to ask you to move in pretty quickly after realizing that things are more than a fling and are more seriously due to the danger of this job.

It just makes it easier to protect you.

He's touch starved and often comes home late, simply discarding his clothes down to his boxers and crawling into bed with you, wrapping your heavy limbs around him.

Often also feels inadequate due to his lack of proper humanity, both as Arahabaki and a clone.

How can you love him when he's like this and can't always give you his attention?

However when you smile at him as we gets off work early, and walks into your shared apartment with take out in hand, he knowns where he's supposed to be.

🐯Atsushi🐯

Please be nice to him ✋😭

Honestly idk how ya’ll met, probably you were a client for the ADA and He for put on your case with another member.

Though rather than flirting with you on the spot like his superior, Atsushi keeps things very professional, despite how obviously attractive you are.

He subtly stares or makes goo goo eyes at you when you speak. Only to earn and Elbow by Junichiro who was but on the case with him.

When he notices what he was doing he’s SO EMBARRASSED and rushes off to the bathroom.

Once the case is solved you thank him and shake his hand and he nearly melts on the spot. You’re just so attractive and your hand is so warm…and-

“Ahem!! Let go of the nice person’s hand now Atsushi~” Dazai calls teasingly as he looks at you and you shoot him and awkward smile as he had been shaking your hand for nearly a minute now…

Oh he’s ready to crawl under a rock and DIE-

When you laugh good-naturally though he finds himself falling hard and fast.

The next thing he knows, you’ve given him your humber, and told him to call you so you two can set up a time to meet for coffee.

He blushes so hard as you leave and swallows thickly. He’s so nervous now, but that doesn’t stop him from calling you a week later.

He meets you for coffee and the two of you have a fantastic time. Would be better if Dazai, Ranpo, and Yosano weren’t in the booth behind him eves-dropping and making whispered comments, but what can ya do?

He’s the type to walk you home no matter if your bigger and stronger than him or not. Just a nervous and chivalrous lad. He knows you can probably handle yourself, but he likes to be extra cautious.

I think he’s old school in a lot of ways like this.

He’s so good to you though. Once you two are officially dating he’ll come to meet you at your work everyday to walk you home unless he absolutely can’t due to a mission, and if that happens he texts you asap with apologies and reminds you to have a nice night!!

If you complement in in anyway, especially physically he’ll melt but only half heartedly believe it.

Takes some serious work to get him to be less scared of himself or the concept of him ever hurting you though.

💀Akutagawa💀

So, you fell for Diablo himself.

Akutagawa is very much not an easy man to love and he knows that, so he's avoided romance and affection like the plague as we see with even Higuchi.

Thus when you join the port mafia as a new recruit and medic, he's shocked that he finds himself mesmerized by your form.

He immediately hates you. Despises you even.

Thus he avoids the Port Mafia doctors as best he can, feeling like if he gets to close to you, he'll kill you out of irritation, then get scolded for his lack of professionalism.

When he's finally forced to come in after a classic encounter with the weretiger and a large gash on his leg that causes him to limp, he's absolutely livid.

He had played off the injury very well, the limp not even being noticeable, to everyone but Higuchi, with her loud mouth.

He sits in front of you, as you take disinfectant to his leg, humming in concern as you do, and Akutagawa can't help but admire you.

You're to gentle in such a harsh profession.

You had just declared a man dead before treating him, and with your unshakable resolve, you treat him with steady hands, not a single tremble.

It confuses him how your bravery stems from desire to protect life rather than thriving in the stench of death like him.

It’s then that he begins to tolerate you and come to the Medic’s as needed. And believe me, he’s a regular with his medications for his coughing and all the injuries he gets from constant brawls.

When you treat his wounds or provide check-ups he begins to open up about his work…and h won’t admit it, but you doting on him makes him feel content.

You realize your feelings first, and when you tell him that you like him…he leaves. He straight up walks out on you.

He’s PANICKING. He realizes he feels the same and believes that makes him soft.

Starts avoiding you and the Clinic again and you think he hates you after telling him.

Soon he’s cornered by Chuuya for “moping and causing drama in the office”and the red-headed executive seems to smack some sense into him.

He finally comes to the clinic with a small thing of flowers. His only thought process being “People like flowers right? This is how someone with romantic interest would respond, yes?”

All in all his apology and subsequent confession is awkward as hell. You’re left dazed and confused by his somehow so blunt yet round about way of declaring his feelings.

[sillyunknownkitkat]

hiii! can you please do a top!leon x bottom!plus sized fem reader? like him worshipping and praising her body before they do the deed 😮‍💨

thank you!! xoxo

Hi! I'm so sorry to answer this request so late. I hope you like it. I tried my best, but it's my first time writing smutt

Leon S. Kennedy x plus size!fem! Reader Nsfw

The actual "deed" is between the blue hearts dividers ;) feel free to skip it if you want to

Leon and you have been dating for a couple of months now. You guys have done the deed a couple of times by now. You'd think he would be a more "casual," but the man still treats you like the goddess you are EVERY.SINGLE.TIME

And of course, since he's not a pornstar, he actually gives you foreplay. And today wasn't an exception.

Like every day, you did a bit of work around the house, worked a bit, enjoyed a show or a book...

And now you're making butternut pastas for dinner/supper ( the inspo ).

Everything was going great. The dish looked and smelled heavenly, music playing in the background for you to sway your hips to, rain playing in the background, making a cosy atmosphere,... But better of all, while you were stirring your sauce so it didn't burn, you heard the door of your apartment open.

"Sweatheart, I'm home!" Leon says, all while getting off shoes and jacket off. He smells the air for a bit before walking up to you in the kitchen. You strutt quickly over him and give him a hug before pressing tons of little pecks on his neck.

"Hey there, what are you cooking? It smells amazing." He asks while looking at your pot and trying to figure out what's in there.

"It's a butternut sauce that'll go with pastas! Also, would you like me to cook you some meat with it? I forgot that it didn't have any proteins in it." You ask while looking up at him and then waiting for him to reply.

"Actually, there's something else that I'd love to eat right now." He mumbles against your neck before gently nibbling the skin there. You let out a small pleased sigh before looking up again at his face.

"What about the food?" You ask with a small pout. After all, you did work really hard to make him good food.

"Food can wait, but myself? I'm quite in need of your loving right now ___." He says before bringing you closer to him, turning the stove off and moving your pot onto your marble counter.

"Come on baby, don't you want to help me?" He insists a bit.

You let out a little huff before agreeing with him. After all, who were you to deny such a request? Especially from him.

So now you have the small of your back pressed around the counter while Leon leaves little love bites on your neck. You let out small moans before lightly grabbing at his growing boner. He lets out a pleased grunt, and his hands wait at the hem of your shirt for you to confirm that he can take it off. You grab his hand with your unoccupied one and move them up to tell him that you were indeed okay with him doing that. So your shirt comes off, and Leon is just looking at you with a mixed love-lust expression.

"I've seen your body many times, and yet I'm still amazed by its beauty." He lets out without even thinking about it. You blush a little, turn your head, and look away, feeling a bit shy from such a declaration, but Leon instantly grabs your shin and gently turns your head back to face him.

"Eyes on me, please." He commands in a soft tone. Leon isn't a hard dom. He's here for your pleasure, and god knows how much getting out of your shell is a turn-on for the both of you.

You obey like the good girl you are. You guys make out, his tongue being the dominant one, but yours still trying to dominate. He backs off a little so you both can catch your breaths. After a few seconds, he gets down on his knees before you, kissing your soft stomach and lightly gripping your hips, all while maintaining eye contact with you.

"Fuuuck~ You're so fucking perfect, you can't even imagine.." He says, breath caught in his throat because of how beautiful he finds you. He grips the aim of your pants and waits for you to confirm once again that you're okay. You nod your head, and as soon as you do, he helps you out of your pants.

He then kisses your tights, tracing your stretch marks with his finger before they get closer and closer to your still clothed pussy. You start to get really needy and grab his hand to get him back up again.

Once he's up you whisper "How did I get so lucky? You're the best I've ever had and probably ever will."

He kisses you with a big smile before saying, "Well sadly I couldn't be your first but hopefully I'll be your last baby." You almost tear up because of the cuteness of this genuine confession. Leon hands trace to small patch of hickeys and bites he made earlier before they lower and start massaging your breasts. He does that for a little while before he starts pushing his hips against yours. You both moan at the feeling. He lets out a little chuckle at his own reaction to such a small action before asking you, "Would you like me to eat you out before continuing ooooor?".

"Not right now no, I really need you Leon~" You moan out as he ruts against you, rubbing you clit unintentionally.

He smiles before getting his shirt and pants off. He grabs you ass so that you can jump to sit on the counter.

He grabs the hem of your underwear, and you lift your hips to make it easier for him to take them off. Once he's done, his hands go to your back and unbuckle the strap of your bra. You let out a small hum at the freeing feeling. Your chest bounced a bit once freed from its barrier. Leon almost drools at the sight. He presses his index and middle finger against your mouth for you to wet them. So you do. You even put on a little show, looking at him seductively and bobbing your head like you would do on his cock. He grabs his hard-on with his other hand and squeezes it. He groans and remove his fingers from your mouth to rub them against you pussy lips and spreading them so he can insert them afterwards. When you feel them in, you let out a moan and close your eyes before remembering that he wanted them on him, so you open them back up obediently. He fingers you for a bit before taking his boxers off and rubbing his tip against your hole.

He teases you by slowly pushing in the tiniest bit of his member before pulling out. He keeps doing that before you start whining, "Leeeeeon~," you kick your feet a bit like a child throwing a tantrum, which makes him chuckle.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" Great. He also teases you verbally now.

"Nghhhh~ I need you in!!" You were starting to get impatient. How could he make you so horny just to deny you in the last moment?

"But I'm in. Look down sweet cheeks," he says while grabbing the soft of your hips.

"Noooo~!! I need you all in, need your cock deep inside of me!," and that's all he needed to hear before getting fully in and starting to actually fuck you.

"Fucking he'll, you're so tight on me. You really like this, don't you? " You whine and moan, and he grunts before continuing, "That's okay, baby, I fuck-~ I love it too. I love you, love your body, and love your pussy~"

You both keep going before you start to get close. Seeing that, Leon makes sure to keep the same pace that is making you close and rubs your clit with his thumb.

"Aaah~ fuck, I'm gonna-" and before you could even finish, your legs shake and you cum on his cock.

He moans out at the way you tighten against him while cumming, "fuuuuck~ gripping me so tight!"

He keeps fucking into you until he cums with the most beautiful chocked out moan that you'd ever hear.

After you both catch your breaths, foreheads against eatchothers, he wipes his cum off of you with his shirt, making you whine since your now sensitive, and helps you back in your undies and the shirt you wore before. He puts his boxer's back on and kiss your cheek before getting all of the dirty unused laundry in your laundry basket in the bathroom.

You smile, kinda in a silly fucked out way, and wipe your counter before getting back to cooking so the both of you can actually eat.

Once you both have eaten, you cuddle on the couch and watch a random show on the tv, just happy being together ❤️

Voilà! Hope it's was okay. I just find the "deed" part a bit rushed and awkward, but it's not that I'm uncomfortable writing it's just that I'm not used to writing this :)

Have a good day/night, and be safe, cuties!

[spider-mancan]

Instructor Stark is incredibly strict.

That’s not unusual for a ballet instructor, although Instructor Stark doesn’t have the heavy accent to be truly stereotypical. The real issue is that he seems flippant and casual until he’s making you stand in the front of the room and do the petit allegro over and over and you stop tripping over your feet while the rest of the class gets to drink water and stare at you.

“He’s only like that because you’re so good,” MJ tells Peter after he’s finished having his bathroom breakdown. “Betty fucked up those Italian fouettés and he barely ragged her at all.”

“Betty’s good!” Peter argues.

Not as good as you. MJ has said it before. Peter is glad she doesn’t say it again.

“Mr. Parker?” Instructor Stark sticks his head out of the rehearsal room and MJ flashes him a tight grimace before patting Peter on the shoulder.

“Speak of the devil.”

“The devil has excellent hearing, Miss Jones.” Instructor Stark doesn’t dig in his nails any further — even though most days MJ asks for it. Instead, he crooks his finger in Peter’s direction. “I need to speak with you.”

“Yes, sir,” Peter says meekly. He hopes Instructor Stark can’t tell that he cried. Peter drains the rest of his refillable bottle over his head, luke-warm water soaking his thin shirt. He’s hoping the moisture hides any evidence of his episode in the bathroom, but he hooks his finger in the lid, gathers his things, and follows Instructor Stark back onto the Marley.

It’s dismissive, the way the instructor starts the music before Peter has even set his things down. “Still warm, aren’t you?” he asks, over Don Q on the speakers. “Basil. You know it.”

Peter has been sitting on cold tile for about ten minutes, so he’s not sure he’s up for the jumping, but he nods and rolls his shoulders.

“Perform for me.”

Peter meets Tony’s eyes in the mirror, lit on fire. That stupid smirk. Peter grits his teeth as the music starts over. “Yes, Mr. Stark.”

If he’s not warm at first, he’s warm by the time Instructor Stark decides Peter has performed the variation to satisfaction — four or five times, no marking, and a bruise on the knee from banging the barre on his tours.

The music finally cuts off. “You’re very good at doing what you’re told.”

Peter could kick Stark in the shin, but he’s exhausted, collapsing again the mirror. He scowls at the instructor, who just…smirks, looking down at Peter over his nose. There’s an undertone, something that only bleeds through when they’re alone. They’ve both pretended not to notice, even though the undertone would not be taken well by the school. Peter never mentions it. Tony only gives him elevator eyes when Peter is too tired to care. He thinks it might be a strange, twisted kind of admiration, that MJ is right and Instructor Stark thinks Peter has value, and that comes across in heat under the skin. It would hardly be the first time passion for the arts became something different entirely.

Peter tries not to squirm, so he scowls harder.

“I’ve got an offer for you, kid.”

Peter tenses up. “What, uh…what kind of offer?”

Instructor Stark comes over, holds out his palm to help Peter up, and pretends Peter isn’t hesitant to take it. “I’m teaching at a convention in Germany this summer. Ten weeks.”

“That’s great, sir,” Peter replies, listlessly. He doesn’t know why Instructor Stark felt the need to tell Peter something he already new. Most people moaned about losing their favorite instructor — his replacement isn’t nearly as nice to look at, either.

“I have an extra ticket.”

It clicks too slowly, sluggish. “Me?” Peter scrambles to his feet in a burst of adrenalin, ignoring Instructor Stark’s hand entirely. “Me, to Germany, for the convention? Natasha Romanov is going to be there!”

His instructor smirks, all sideways. “Trust me, that’s a reason to stay home.”

“She’s one of the best ballerinas in two generations! She’s danced for kings!”

“Me too, kid.” Instructor Stark crosses his arms with a sniff. “Pretty sure on more occasions, even.”

“You’re a guy,” Peter argues. “It’s different!” He’s grinning. He’s excited, too excited, to the point of trembling. He’s not sure he trusts it. “I…I can really go? The money—”

“Paid for.” Instructor Stark waved his hand like thousands of dollars is nothing. “You’ll just have to bring yourself and something…” He pinches the see through material of Peter’s drenched shirt, “less wet. Lots of somethings. There will be three or four classes a day, plus rehearsals for company shows. It’s a big deal.”

Peter knows. He can’t believe. “Why…why me?”

Instructor Stark’s fingers smooth out the wrinkle he made in Peters shirt. His finger must smell like diluted sweat, like Peter. Stark looks him up and down, and the smirk goes a little softer on the edges. “I owe you, Mr. Parker, for making you cry.”