#beautiful queens i love them so so much i could cry

[enemui]

I really wish some parts of the Arcane fandom, especially certain JayVik shippers, would stop hating poc women for no reason. The way they'll bend over backwards to excuse anything from a mistake to a heinous act by their favorite little white boys, but vilify poc women just for existing near these men is part of a bigger problem than these people may realise.

[bunnis-monsters]

Betrayal of the Queen

Part 1

Endings:

Forgive

No forgiveness(Kofi/Patreon Only)

Yandere Sons take out the old hive(Kofi/Patreon Only)

A/N: Hii, this was available to kofi/patreon early, and some of the endings will be exclusively there! Also, the relationship between you and your bee hybrid sons is completely platonic! It’s pretty obvious in this fic but I get weird questions and just want to clarify. Thanks!

They regret not appreciating your kindness and soft nature when they appoint their new queen.

She was taller, more lithe and graceful. They threw you out the second they saw her on the street. Your sons of course followed, shocked and devastated that their own fathers and fellow hive would do this to you!

You had served as the queen for nearly five years now, creating the new generation and caring for them with all your heart.

But you were a bit fragile, not able to bear as many young as the previous queen. The hive had loved you at first, adoring you endlessly, but when they noticed how little eggs made it to the birthing stage, they realized that you may not ever rebuild their hive in the way that they hoped.

They slowly began to stop caring for you as much, leaving your care to your sons. Some of the hive even went out and flirted with other females, leaving you to incubate those eggs with only your children by your side.

Most grew resentful, seeing you as nothing more than a burden to the hive.

By the fifth year, the only bees in the hive that had remained loyal to you were the very ones you birthed.

Your children disliked how you were treated, but stayed because taking you away may cause issues. Your safety was their top priority, but they were also deeply in tune with your emotions.

The hive stopped even pretending to care near the end, shunning you for not being a good enough queen. They buzzed around haughtily, being so bold as to bring other females into the hive right in front of you!

Your heart ached. At first you had truly loved that hive, sacrificing most of your human life and your body to bare eggs in a womb that could barely maintain them.

You had done so much, yet they didn't seem to care.

In their hearts they knew they were being cruel. But they were selfish and greedy, wanting the hive to flourish... but that couldn't happen with you around.

"She'll be banished."

Your sons stared at the council member in shock as they announced the decision. "Are you joking? She's the queen, you can't-"

"It states that if a queen is no longer fit to rule, then she will be banished and a new queen will be chosen. When a queen can't lay the right amount of eggs, she cannot function correctly."

One of your sons, the prince stepped forward, his wings buzzing threateningly. "You've treated her like garbage for years, and now you're going to abandon her? Is that really how we treat a queen?"

"Hardly a queen, if you ask me."

A female said, crossing her legs. The prince turned on his heels, hissing. "You shouldn't even be in this hive, the queen is the only female allowed-"

"She's not the queen anymore. Get her out and leave."

The bee hybrids watched in awe as every single son of hers stood. "If she leaves, we leave with her. You've all become so greedy, taking advantage of our mother and pushing her to her limits and expecting her to just roll over and take it. You're a disgrace to the bee hybrid name."

You were in tears when your crown was taken, crying into one of your son's chests. Your sons took up about 1/3 of the hive, and left with you.

The new queen had been already lined up to take your place. She was thin, tall, and beautiful, all that they could have asked for.

But she was also manipulative and cruel.

"The drones? Do we really need to help them? They're replaceable, aren't they?"

She crossed her legs, staring on in boredom as a worker bee reported to her. "But my queen, the drones are stuck in a storm, shouldn't we at least try to help them?"

"Of course not, I don't really care if they live or die.

I'm the queen, the most important. Shouldn't you just be happy I'm here and producing eggs?"

It quickly became obvious that the new queen cared not about her subjects, only about expanding her power and rule. The people starved, the babies hated their mother. She refused to even look at them once they were born, moving on to start another clutch.

The new queen picked only the most handsome and fit bee hybrids to mate with, creating only a small gene pool. This meant that the ones she mated with were constantly tired, and the others were increasingly sexually frustrated.

A few bee hybrids sat in a common room, depressed.

"Remember when the old queen would come down here and listen to our woes? She would mate with all of the hive, not just a select few..."

"The old queen made sure that the elders were taken care of. Not a single senior was left behind."

"She was so warm and soft, the new queen has no warmth in her body or soul."

They missed you.

But could they ever say they deserved you back?

Thinking of the years of neglect and mistreatment, of how they had taken your love and kindness for granted…

It all came to an end when the queen came before the council. She was as cold as ever, her eyes empty as she spoke.

"Thank you all for making me your queen and being so... stupid."

Her vacant eyes glanced over the room, and suddenly the smell of decay became almost overwhelming as her body began to wriggle and shift.

"That previous queen of yours had been keeping us at bay for nearly five years, and you let us in easily."

The new queen was ripped apart, parasite wasp larvae falling onto the ground and wriggling towards the nearest bee hybrid, attaching themselves and burrowing into their abdomen.

The room erupted into a frenzy of bees being eaten alive while others tried to escape. Even after leaving the room, several council members were seized by infected bees, taking them down with the rest of the hive.

Only around 100 members of the original hive survived, and while they flew away from the remnants of their home, all they could think about was you.

In all your years of being queen, you had been fighting to keep them safe. You tried so hard, barely able to lay eggs due to the intense stress of taking on the imminent threat of the parasite wasp hybrids alone.

You hid all of the pain, all of the work you did just to give them some peace of mind… and they repaid you by abandoning you when you needed them most.

You hadn’t failed them as a queen, no. They failed you as a hive. The hive wouldn’t exist without you, and had quickly fallen to ruin with your absence.

All they could hope for was that you would forgive them.

~

You smiled to yourself, one of you infant sons sleeping on your lap as your new hive buzzed around you. Without all the stress that had been piled on you, incubating eggs was easy.

“Mother, I’ve prepared your dinner.”

One of your sons nuzzled his antennae against your forehead in a sign of innocent affection before setting your plate on your nightstand. Even when they got older, they were still your babies.

Your sons had quickly formed a hive with you after you were banished, and now you lived a happy life with them and the new bee hybrids that joined.

Any bees that had been ostracized were welcome to join, and your sons personally interviewed each new possible mate of the queen to make sure they wouldn’t betray you.

After all, they loved their mom, and wanted you to be happy over anything else. They didn’t care if you laid eggs or not, they could spend the rest of their days snuggling with and taking care of you and be perfectly content.

But you wanted to have more children, to make a new hive where you’d be loved and happy.

Of course, any wish you had would be fulfilled. They set off and gathered any bee hybrids they could, wanting their mama to find her confidence in being a queen again.

It felt nice to be able to mate again, to be loved intimately. The new bee hybrids were loving and gentle, appreciating every soft curve of your body answ kissing away any tears you shed from your lingering insecurities.

Your sons worked on building a hive and producing honey while the new bee hybrids helped you with creating new children to add on to the hive. You felt like one, big, happy family.

It all came to a halt when the bees guarding the entrance to your hive brought forth an intruder.

You instantly recognized him as a council member from your old hive.

Memories of all the awful things they said and the circumstances of your banishment came to your mind, making your breathing quicken.

“My queen-“

“Don’t you dare call her that, you scum!”

The prince said, standing in front of you protectively “She isn’t your queen anymore, you made that decision yourself.”

The council member hung his head in shame. “… I know. Trust me, we all regret that deeply.”

You gently pulled the prince to you, giving his antennae a gentle caress to calm him down. Even if he was a prince, he was still one of your sons, and they were all angry on your behalf.

When you stayed silent, the former council member continued. “The hive… it’s gone. The new queen was a pawn for the parasitic wasps.”

This caused your hive to buzz anxiously. Many of the new members were from broken or destroyed hives by those hybrids.

Some were just little ones, torn away from their mothers, watching as the queens that birthed them were killed. Their tiny bodies trembled as they clung to your side, of course you had adopted them.

“Why do you darken my doorway, saying such things in front of the children?” you said, gathering the terrified babies into your arms. “You have no business here, I’ve been banished.”

“My queen-“

The prince was across the room in a split second, holding a knife to the former council member’s throat. “Don’t make me tell you again, scum. That is my mother, not your queen.”

You lifted a hand, and the prince backed away slightly, but stayed within arms reach. “… what about the new queen’s children?”

“… most of them were infected with the queen’s parasites. Those that we could save were in a dire state, while the rest perished.”

You let out a distressed whine, clutching one of the orphans' hands to comfort them. It wasn’t easy being a mother and hearing about the death of children.

“And what do you want from me?”

He took a moment to think before speaking. “Shelter for the children… they’re scared and hungry, most of them have severe injuries and illnesses as well.”

“… alright. Basil, please contact the worker bees and have them set up a temporary quarantine room, with enough room to accommodate 30 children.”

You sat back down on your throne, peering down at the former council member. He had been someone you had loved, even mated with years ago. A few of your sons were a result of that… yet in this moment you resented him and all the previous hive had done.

“I will only be taking in the children.”

Before he could protest, he stopped himself and stood. “I understand… please, do not hate them because of what we did. They are innocent in this.”

As you watched over the construction of the quarantine room, you occasionally glanced outside.

Your former hive members, at least, what was left of them was gathered around. They gave up their children, only wanting their survival.

When they spotted you looking, they stared up at you with remorse and longing.

They’d be staying nearby while waiting for the children to recover, and the threat of the parasitic wasps still lingered.

Would you ever be able to forgive them, especially if it meant joining forces and gaining knowledge to protect yourselves in a world that was changing rapidly?

Or would you turn your back on them, just like they had done to you? It was only fair, and how could you trust them when they already betrayed you once?

The choice was yours.

Which ending do y’all want to see first?

—————

SFW TAGLIST: @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @peachesdabunny @misswonderfrojustice @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @zyettemoon1800 @kassandra-hawthorne @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @omglovelylaila @midromiell @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @hammerhead96 @bubblez-blop @snugglyshoji @wanderlustingcastaway @amberexe2 @an-ever-angry-bi @rainejiang @lostsomewhereinthegarden @idkccdfnfz @xrenka @arcticat @v3lv3tf0x @ghostiegirl56 @aerangi @kxnnxy @joviaschaoticmind @danielle143 @roxy776699 @katsukis1wife @chaoticevilbakugo @rainejiang @lostsomewhereinthegarden @idkccdfnfz @articat @ghostiegirl56 @aerangi @kxnnxy @roxy776699

[lylian333]

~Yandere emperor x reader~

warning: read at your own risk, traumatizing, dark historical shits, noncon, force, many misunderstandings,sexual harrest , angst ,age gap, everything here is quite insane, historical au, he's fucking crazy, killing, insults, English is not my first langue(if there's any warning I didn't put, tell me)

words:2180

(this is not my art I found it on Pinterest, and in the comment section it's said that it was made by AI so💀)

~~

Princess (y/n) Laurier has been best friends with Princess Alyssa Everett since you both were just 6 years old. You both have many things in common, such as interests, opinions, and much more.

You both would usually hang out around each other's kingdom; you don't have any issues with her except with her father, Emperor Edward Everett. He was the hottest, most handsome man you have ever met, and you still do now.

You have had a huge crush on him that felt like butterflies inside your stomach since the day you met him, but he always has that emotionless face and rarely smiles unless at his wife, your best friend's mother. You know this from Princess Alyssa; she would complain about how cold and serious he is.

You still ignore those and try getting to know him, but he just looks annoyed or just straight-up ignores you, but you ignore it and still continue liking him. Not only that, you're not the only one; it's obvious that everyone that has met him, females and even males, all drool for him.

You still have some sense in you, and you also have to respect the Everett queen and Princess Alyssa since she is your best friend. You can't just let some love ruin the relationship you both had. You can't. She is like a sister to you. She helps you when you're confused; she protects and defends you when you were getting laughed at; she is there when you needed someone the most. It's not worth losing a relationship like this, and so your liking toward his father slowly dies down.

But things change when you grow up and start having features and curves and in the end, you become a gorgeous woman, many people are jealous of you even Princess Alyssa confesses to you about it and some desperately want you. You reject all of them since none of them are worthy of you, and you're disinterested in them.

Your intense gaze and soft complexion, with your structured face and striking presence, are on par with an iconic beauty, paired with the warmth and softness in your expression, which are very delicate. You would struggle to not look at yourself when there is a mirror.

You still have some feelings toward Emperor Edward, but you manage to hide it and be able to not think about him when talking to him.

The worst thing that could have happened was that the Queen of Everett died from childbirth while trying to give birth to the heir to the throne, but it went to a disaster. It was devastating news to hear from everyone.

The emperor was absolutely devastated and even despised the child. From that moment on he would never talk to anyone unless it was part of a duty, but other than that he would ignore the servant's advisers and even his own kids, which left Princess Alyssa depressed since she had to bear her mother's death, her father's coldness, and the baby boy that her mother lost her life to.

That week she came crying to you when you came to visit her and attended the funeral of the Everett Queen death. You decide to stay at Everett Palace for a few months before going back to Laurier Kingdom.

You promised Princess Alyssa that you'd take care of her and her baby brother, and so you did. After all, back at your kingdom and your family, you have 6 siblings, plus you, and you are the third eldest, which makes you the middle You have experience with babies after the experience of you sibling that you swear are more naughtyer when you take care of them.

In those months of staying, Emperor noticed that you had to take care of the baby boy and Princess Alyass when he found you singing a lullaby for them to fall asleep.

At that moment something in him awoke, something dark, horrible, and disgusting. He knew this was wrong, but who was there to stop him? Not even himself could do that.

From that moment on, he would try getting close to you and getting to know you better; by that, he would call you into his office or into his chamber. When talking, he would get close to you, too close, to the point that he's invading your personal space by burying his face in your hair, breathing in that sweet, gentle scent, or sucking and biting your earlobe.

You knew this was wrong. You both knew this was wrong, but you guys still continued. Your brain keeps telling you to stop and that this is your best friend's father, but your gut tells you to continue. For your best friend Princess Alyssa's sake.

At one of those meetings, you confess to him that you don't want to continue these "meetings" to respect your best friend Alyssa and her baby brother Prince James.

But when he hears that you swear you could feel the air getting tense and his face looks tense as well, and with clenched fists, he looks like he could kill someone that might have been you or others.

He then pushes you onto his office desk and forcefully rips your clothes off. All you can remember that day was just horror, pure fucking horror. It haunts your dreams, memories, and everything that you see that can somehow be related to the day you and he were together.

The cherry on top is Emperor Endward sends an arranged marriage to your kingdom between you both; you pray that your parents would reject this offer, but no. Instead, they accept it and send you a letter telling you the reasons that this could help our kingdom very much and this could give you a better future and more, but all you care about is that you're trapped with him. They also added in that they would be unable to see because of the distance of the two kingdoms and that it is time to set you free.

Oh, how you wish it were true to let you spread your wings and have your own freedom.

You hated everything, mostly yourself. You hated yourself for not being more alert and not telling anyone, not even your own family or close ones; you—you can't even describe the feeling that you're feeling at that point. You quite literally were disgusted by yourself.

You cry all day long to the point where Princess Alyssa hears it and finds you, and you vomit out all the things that happened while still crying. You wish the earth could just eat you whole, make you disappear from the earth, from this world, from this life.

You keep pressuring yourself that this is your fault for days till your hair has a few strands of white hair that you have noticed.

The wedding was within the week, and you both got married and wed. That very day and night of the "honeymoon," he slams you against the bed carelessly and forcibly spears open your legs with his hand while another pins both your head on top of your head.

You whisper near your ear,True to be told, I have actually noticed that since you were just a little girl, you always had a crush on me, so technically you wanted this to happen, so don't cry like last time, dear."

Your eyes go wide when you hear that he actually noticed. He knows that you have no words—absolutely no words.

That night was as horrible and traumatizing as the night you both had together. Princess Alyssa personally tries to help you escape; even after the marriage, she still supports you, even knowing the fact you are technically her stepmother.

But she accepted you, and you were quite stunned at how she handled the situation. Even though it was like hell, she still helped, whether by holding you while you were crying or whatever she was still there. It felt like she was starting to take care of you instead of you taking care of her like how you first promised.

In one of the many attempts of you trying to escape and her helping you with it, you both were caught, and Emperor Edward decided to punish you by isolating you and sentencing Princess Alyssa to be beheaded, his own daughter.

And you were forbidden to give her any visits after the situation. You didn't get the chance to even give her the last hug or talk or anything, not even a goodbye. You even threatened to kill yourself if he didn't allow you to see her, but he just laughs at you and tells the guards to throw you inside a dungeon where there's nothing, not even a window, so you have to rely on the fire outside.

Just like that, she's gone forever. You cry for days and refuse to eat, sleep, or even drink. The king himself has to personally force-feed you so that you don't die. You even scream and beat him as hard as you can in rage whenever you see him, but he just stands there, not unbothered. You might as well think that he doesn't even care or feel anything anymore, no remorse, no nothing, just disgusting lovesick eyes looking at you.

"I just can't get enough of you, love~"

Your life goes on until you have had enough, like enough one more year of this. You seriously don't think you want to be reincarnated into another life. You desperately want to feel things instead of being trapped in the shared chamber all day long, only allowed to go out to the garden for 1 hour to get fresh air with a few ladies in waiting and your own trusted servants near you to keep being aware of you and make sure you're not doing anything harmful to yourself or escaping.

You came up with the stupidest and most shameful idea. You decide to frame yourself for cheating on Emperor Edward and confess to him that you cheated. Making up fake clues for others to notice and gossip about, but the emperor refuses to believe it, so you told him personally.

"I cheated on you, Edward."

"You must be joking, dear. How would you even be able to do that, hm?"

but you just keep repeating the sentence, "I cheated on you."

This makes him overthink and triggers him, and he ends up struggling with you to death in the process. You still keep repeating the sentence, which forces him to grip your neck even harder till you are no longer breathing—not even a single movement, just soulless eyes staring straight.

When he realized that it was too late and there was no turning back, he let go of your neck, and you collapsed onto the ground, dead. He kneeled down next to you; finally, at this moment, he felt guilty for everything. He reflected on the things he had done to you, the amount of damage. Why didn't he think about this earlier? Maybe that could help him.

No, it's your fault for cheating on him. How dare you filthy women cheat on an emperor that has done everything for her sake? To this day he still blames you, but part of him does regret not caring what you felt and thought. He only treated you like a toy, a glass doll that would easily be broken. But he just couldn't help but love you with all his might, even if it meant hurting you.

He tried to keep your body from decomposing and rotting and would soak you in water to slow down the decomposing. He even went mad and brought you to the throne room for events, dressed you properly, stuffed you with cotton to keep you looking more alive, and said to others, "My wife is doing well; look at her, she's such a sleepy head; look at her sleeping, hehe…"

Sadly, eventually, he had no other choice but to finally bury you because your body was decomposing and smelling really bad. At the funeral, he gives a speech on how she was in his life and how he can't believe she died before him from 'sickness' and oh how sad he was and how he saw her glowing up into an elegant woman and more.

Prince James also gave a speech about how you try helping out, that he always sees her as a mother figure, and how (y/n) has always tried her best. He was innocent in all of these; as well, he even balled his eyes out when he found out that you died.

At the very last moment of seeing your face, he cupped your cheek one last time.

"Oh, how much I will miss you oh how I wish that I could go with you as well, but it's fine you don't need to worry love In my will, when I die, I'm going to be buried right next to you." He says that while chuckling while feeling remorse.

~~

omg, there are so many things I want to comment on but erm yeah this is how it is??? it could have been worse

[sqtorux]

jjk men when you call them your husband

includes: gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji and sukuna

requested !

wasn't sure if anon wanted an smau or a written one for this so i turned it into a drabble ahahah

gojo: he'd be listening to you yap with an endearing look, half registering what you're saying and mostly just admiring you until that one word would snap him out of his own thoughts. he'd let you continue but then let out a chuckle, not being able to contain himself. when asked why he'd just kiss you on the lips “i can't wait to marry you.”

geto: “how could my husband be prettier than me?” at his geto would just laugh. he would then pull you closer into his arms and utter words of how he finds you the prettiest, most beautiful person to exist. when asked if he isn't flustered at you calling him your husband he'd just shrug “we're basically married already” the slight redness in his cheeks and the tips of his ears with the twitching on the corner of his lips says otherwise about his nonchalant front.

nanami: nanami always knew he would get married to you. but when he heard the word ‘husband’ coming from your lips he still blushes. nanami isn't one to express himself much but he finds himself doing so around you. he'd fix his tie and then mess with his glasses and when inquired about his behaviour he gently caresses your hands, imagining the band of metal to grace your finger that he'd get you soon. “i’m glad we're on the same page about our future”

choso: “husband? are you sure?” you knew what he'd meant by this. he's a half curse and that fact always bothered him but not you. you'd tell him that you didn't care about anything of that sort and he'd cry. choso is a very fragile person and very emotional in contrast to the stoic appearance he has. you adored that part of him so much. “hell we're not even married yet and i’m already crying this much” he'd say between sniffles as you rub his back comfortingly.

toji: you were skeptical about doing this prank on him because he's been married and it was a heavy topic. you did not want to remind him or yourself of it but your curiosity got the better of you and you decided to slip it out anyway. silence followed and your heart sank. you look away and scolded yourself mentally for this. hearing him shift you expected him to walk out but he didn't. he pulls you into an embrace and whispers a bunch of i love yous into your ears. he wasn't a good person particularly but a good husband? he was sure as hell he'd try his hardest for you.

sukuna: “what was that?” you'd hesitate to repeat yourself but his authorative voice would make you do whatever he says. “... my husband” you'd stutter and he'd shake his head. “say that with more pride, i’d like my queen to actually like being my queen”. upon being reminded that this wasn't the heian era anymore he'd speak of the prestige he'd use to have and the privileges that come along with it. you'd be annoyed and tell him to return and fool around with his numerous concubines before storming off. he'd however, would stop you and drag you back “i wasn't done. all that prestige could not compare to a lifetime with you. you'll be my queen, heian era or not.”

it just kept getting longer as it went on lmao

[dannyriccsystem]

i love your oscar fic!! we need more. what about oscar dating fernando alonso's daughter and him finding out and being every supportive, meanwhile the whole grid is teasing them

GOT A LITTLE TASTE OF YOUR LOVE THE OTHER DAY!

FORMULA ONE DRIVER X READER

Summary: Oscar Piastri dating Alonso’s daughter… You!

Warnings: Y/N usage, slightly broken Spanish (been a few years I’m rusty), PAPA FERNANDO

Featuring: Oscar Piastri x Alonso!Reader

SO MANY OSCAR REQUESTS expect so much more for him soon! I love Oscar this is perfect

y/n.alonso

liked by fernandoalo_oficial and others

y/n.alonso My summer break 🫶 Ft. Mi gente favorita 😙❤️

tagged friend.user1, friend.user2, fernandoalo_oficial

—

username1 - Prettiest girl ever

♥︎ by author

friend.user1 - Beautiful girl ❤️ Te amo 😍

♥︎ by author

y/n.alonso - stoopp you’re beautiful

fernandoalo_oficial - Mi pequeña niña ❤️ All grown up

♥︎ by author

y/n.alonso - te amo papa 🥹

username2 - IS THAT A MAN IN THE LAST SLIDE

username3 - QUICK. EVERYONE ANALYZE THAT JAWLINE RIGHT NOW.

> username4 - COMPARE IT TO EVERYONE SHE FOLLOWS

> username5 - WE MUST PROTECT HER 🫡

username6 - These comments are crazy 😭

friend.user2 - Best summer ever ☺️ Such a joy

♥︎ by author

lance_stroll - 👍

♥︎ by author

y/n.alonso - Thanks Lance very cool

> username7 - IS IT HIM?

> username8 - girl 💀

oscarpiastri

liked by y/n.alonso and others

oscarpiastri Nice break 👍 Time to get back into the swing of things. 🏎️

—

username9 - Getting major boyfriend energy here

username10 - Let’s go Osc!! 🧡 Papaya boys got this

lando - Mate hired a professional photographer 😂

♥︎ by author

username11 - no because seriously who is taking his photos for him

opeightyone - Back on track🔥🙌

♥︎ by author

lnfour - Let’s aim for P2 (Gotta save P1 for the best 😉)

♥︎ by author

y/n.alonso - FERNANDO ALONSO P1!!🗣️🔥

♥︎ by author

> username12 - rare Y/N sighting…

> oscarpiastri - He may be young but he’s done it 🔥

username13 - Y/N and Oscar. The duo we didn’t know we needed

fernandoalo_oficial

liked by y/n.alonso and others

fernandoalo_oficial Mi princesita 😂 Still just as bossy

tagged y/n.alonso

—

username14 - I live for Nando dad content

y/n.alonso - Stop this made me cry 🥹 I love you papa thank you for everything

♥︎ by author

oscarpiastri - What a queen

username15 - ARIANA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE AHA

georgerussell63 - Who is this diva?

opeightyone - Admin’s fav girl 🫶

username16 - I feel like I’m being left out on a big inside jokes

> username17 - No real

Summer break for Formula One drivers had officially ended, landing them back in the competition for the Dutch grand prix. All the way over in Zandvoort.

You and Oscar were making your couple’s debut amongst the rest of the grid, excluding your father. You both had to calmly sit him down over dinner and explain that you were in love, and nothing would change that. Despite how protective he had been in the past, Papa Nando seemed to take the news quite well.

“Well, there were worse options. Could have been Lando,” you remember him saying as he patted your boyfriend on the back, who seemed gobsmacked at the polite reaction to such big news. The older gentleman offered him a hug, which settled their newfound father-son dynamic.

It was always interesting to see your father and your boyfriend interact, on or off the track. They seemed so unlike, but their chemistry balanced out nicely. Fernando always teased your boyfriend, making comments such as “I started racing before you were even born” and “you’re so young, I can’t believe you’re dating my daughter!” despite the fact you were only a few months older than Oscar.

You stepped into the paddock holding his hand, feeling oddly nervous. It shouldn’t have mattered since only the most important people in your life knew— That being Oscar and Fernando, although you were pretty sure Lando and Lance figured it out as well— but it was always a strange feeling to make your relationship public.

A chill ran down your spine when you heard someone call out, “Y/N!” Oscar’s hands squeezed yours reassuringly as you turned around to see Lewis rolling towards you on his scooter. He had his bright Ferrari red kit on, with a pair of sunglasses and a hat to pull the look together. “Are you here with your d…” His eyes trailed down, and he paused knowingly. “Oscar!” He cheered, clapping him on the shoulder aggressively. Your boyfriend flinched, a grimace of a smile popping up. “Moving up in life! Congrats.”

“Thank you, Lewis.” You answered for him. “But no, I haven’t seen my dad. Check his garage.” He nodded, giving you both one last glance over before rolling off again. “Charming as ever,” You reply teasingly.

“Yeah. Charming…”

The teasing didn’t end there. Being Fernando’s daughter meant a lot of these guys watched you grow up. You were there running around the tracks while some of them were in their rookie years— For anyone wanting to become a dad themself, you were probably good practice.

After Lewis came Max, who just made a few jokes about Fernando targeting him on the track now. Then came George, who went on a whole rant about how the fans would react, but ended it with a congratulations. Next was Leclerc, and then Sainz, and then Albon… It was driver after driver leaving a little teasing remark.

By the end, you were getting a bit tired of it. Not angry or upset, just… Feeling like you had to force a laugh with every joke that was said. When it seemed like they all had their share with poking fun, the both of you were sitting in Oscar’s driving room.

You watched him organize some of his stuff for the weekend quietly. Finally, he broke the silence when he came to kiss your scalp, “Well, we never have to do that again at least.”

Yeah, no. The teasing didn’t stop there.

y/n.alonso

liked by oscarpiastri and others

y/n.alonso My boyfriend makes the same face all the time. 🙂

tagged oscarpiastri

—

username18 - SORRY??? boyfriend?! like. BOYFRIEND?

username19 - She knew what the people wanted when she posted these

opeightyone - Promoted to our best photographer 📸

♥︎ by author

y/n.alonso - how much am I being paid

> oscarpiastri - My love is payment enough?

♥︎ by author

> y/n.alonso - Sigh. I guess

fernandoalo.oficial - Nice kid 😀

♥︎ by author

y/n.alonso - Gracias papa 😇☺️🫶

username20 - PAPA NANDO APPROVES

username21 - HARD LAUNCH ERA!!

oscarpiastri - 🙂

♥︎ by author

y/n.alonso - Wouldn’t have you any other way 🙂

[cbeargyu]

favorite toy

summary: you were the queen bee — untouchable, cruel, and stunning. everyone wanted you, but the only one you ever allowed close was jaemin: your most loyal worshipper, your obedient little dog. he wasn’t just obsessed, he was deranged — willing to bleed, kill, and fall to his knees if it meant earning your attention. but when a man dares to touch what’s yours, jaemin snaps, and what follows is blood, devotion, and a night you’ll never forget. because good boys get rewarded. and he’s been so good.

pairing: dom!reader x sub!jaemin

genre: smut, psychological thriller, yandere, dark romance, obsession, toxic relationship dynamics, power play. (MDI!!)

warnings: NSFW / explicit sexual content, dom x sub dynamic, heavy yandere themes (obsession, stalking, possessiveness), knife violence / murder (graphic), blood, gore, and physical assault, toxic & manipulative relationship, degradation, praise kink, pet play, power imbalance, public harassment (attempted assault — noncon implication), crying kink, orgasm control, overstimulation, psychological manipulation / unhinged behavior, mentions of body disposal / crime cover-up, use of slurs in a kink context, intense emotional dependency, minors DNI 🚫

wc: 4,60k

notes: hope you enjoy this one! i’m stepping a little out of my comfort zone with this genre (yandere), so please make sure to read the warnings before diving in 🔞

you were the kind of girl people didn't believe existed outside of teen movies — long legs, glossed lips, sharp eyes and sharper words. you walked through the hallways like you owned the floor beneath your heels, and in many ways, you did. teachers turned a blind eye when it was you. students stepped aside like trained dogs. the girls hated you, the boys obsessed over you, and you? you didn’t give a fuck. why would you? the world bent over backwards for you.

and when it didn’t? you had jaemin.

sweet, beautiful jaemin.

he wasn’t like the rest. he didn’t just want you — he worshipped you. he looked at you like you were hung in the sky by the hands of god himself. he didn’t care that people called you a bitch behind your back —and to your face—. to him, you were a queen, and he’d rather bleed out than let your crown tilt for even a second.

"jaemin!" you’d yell, lips pursed, eyes narrowed, annoyed at the tiniest inconvenience.

and he’d come running. like the loyal little mutt he was. obedient. desperate.

he didn’t just want to be near you. he wanted to be used by you. wanted your voice in his ears, your scent on his skin, your name carved into every part of him. there was no limit to how far he’d go for you. he wasn’t the type to offer his jacket over a puddle — no, jaemin would lay his whole fucking body across it, and smile when you stepped on him.

he loved you. too much. dangerously so.

you knew it. you saw it in the way his eyes followed you like a shadow. you felt it in the way his hands shook when you were too close. you heard it in the way he said your name — like a prayer, like a curse.

and you? you let him. you used him like your personal toy. because that’s what he wanted, wasn’t it? he didn’t want your heart. he wanted your attention. your praise. your fingers. your voice. your spit.

so when he got your chemistry notes perfectly recopied and highlighted like you asked, what else could you do but reward him?

"good boy," you purred, pushing him down onto your bed, silk sheets rustling beneath him. you straddled him like a throne, nails dragging down the smooth skin of his chest. "you did exactly what i told you to. i’m almost impressed."

his lips parted, a soft whimper leaving them as he nodded, flushed and dazed. his hands were trembling where they held onto the bedsheets — not even touching you, not unless you let him. you made sure he learned that.

"say it," you demanded, rolling your hips slowly against his. "what are you?"

"y-your good boy," he breathed, eyes wide, glassy. "your toy. your—fuck—yours, y/n. only yours."

your smile was wicked. you leaned down, lips brushing his ear as your hand moved lower, over his stomach, teasing.

"that’s right. you’re nothing without me, jaemin. just a pretty face with no brain unless i tell you what to think." your fingers wrapped around him and he cried out, bucking up into your touch. "but when you’re good like this? when you behave for me? you get to feel good."

he was already close — of course he was. the pathetic way he moaned when you so much as touched him made it obvious. you barely had to try. a few strokes, a few praises, and he was sobbing for you.

"look at you," you cooed, watching his face twist in pleasure. "falling apart just because i said you did a good job. you’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?"

"anything," he gasped. "please, please, y/n—"

"shhh," you silenced him with a hand to his throat, tightening just enough to make his eyes roll back. "be a good toy and cum when i say."

his body was trembling beneath you, muscles taut, trying so hard to hold back even when he was right there, teetering on the edge. he didn’t dare cum without your permission — he knew better. he’d learned that lesson already, the hard way. his mind was drowning in you, flooded with your scent, your voice, your touch. nothing else existed. he didn’t even wantanything else.

you were everything. every breath, every heartbeat, every thought. there was no “jaemin” without you.

“you’re so easy to break,” you whispered, dragging your nails down his chest just hard enough to leave little red lines. “so easy to ruin. and yet… so fucking desperate to be mine.”

“i am yours,” he choked, hips twitching. “please—i need—y/n, please.”

you tilted your head, amused. “you need? and what makes you think you’re allowed to need anything?”

his eyes widened, lips parting like he’d just been caught stealing. you leaned closer, lips brushing his jaw as you whispered, “you only get what i decide to give you. you only exist because i let you.”

“yes,” he whimpered, tears in his lashes. “yes, fuck—i’m sorry. i’m yours. only yours.”

you tightened your grip around his throat just a little more, watching the way he gasped, pupils blown wide with pleasure and pain. your hand never stopped moving on him, slow, controlled, cruel. you wanted him right there — suffering under your touch, drowning in the pleasure you dangled just out of reach.

"look at you," you murmured, licking a stripe up his neck, "crying just because i won’t let you cum. i should keep you like this all night. shaking and begging like the little mess you are."

“please, i can’t—i’ll die, y/n, i swear—”

“you’d die for me?” you asked, faux sweet, lips curling into a smirk. “mm. of course you would.”

you finally let go of his throat, just so you could slap his face — not too hard, just enough to make his head turn and leave a red mark behind. his mouth fell open with a sharp gasp, and his cock twitched in your hand.

"you liked that?" you taunted, voice low. "you liked being hit? god, you’re such a fucking freak. you’re lucky you’re pretty."

"i'm lucky because i'm yours," he sobbed, "please, please, i’ll be good, i’ll be perfect, just tell me what to do, tell me what you want—"

“cum,” you ordered, voice sharp like a whip. “now.”

and he did.

it was pathetic. the way he cried out your name like a dying man, whole body arching, twitching, lips trembling. he didn’t even care that he was crying. his hands clenched the sheets like it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. he came so hard it left him breathless, eyes glassy and unfocused, completely ruined just by your voice and your touch.

you watched him crumble, satisfied.

then you leaned down and kissed his cheek softly, almost mockingly tender.

“good boy.”

he stayed like that, dazed and sticky and aching, while you got up and fixed your hair in the mirror. you didn’t even glance at him when you spoke.

“i want my nails done tomorrow. you’ll book it, pay for it, and pick me up after school.”

“yes,” he croaked, still catching his breath. “anything.”

you looked back at him with a smirk. “and don’t forget who you belong to, jaemin.”

he smiled — actually smiled — like you hadn’t just ripped him to pieces and put him back together with your bare hands.

“i could never forget. you’re the only thing i’ve ever wanted.”

you were fixing your lipstick when jaemin spoke, voice soft but shaking at the edges. “you’re really going?”

you didn’t even turn to look at him. “mm-hm. the girls want a night out. just us.”

he sat on the edge of your bed, hands clenched in his lap. you could feel his eyes on you, burning with a jealousy that curled at the edges like smoke.

“and i can’t come?”

you laughed. a pretty, cruel little sound.

“no, baby. girls only.”

he swallowed hard. “but what if—what if some guy tries something? i won’t be there to protect you.”

you finally looked at him, sauntering over with that slow, confident walk that made his heart race and his stomach twist. you cupped his face in your hand, thumb brushing across his cheek.

“i can handle a few drunk losers,” you whispered, smiling sweetly. “besides... why would i want any of them?” your smile widened into something darker, crueler. “i only have eyes for my favorite toy.”

he shivered. you kissed his forehead and walked out the door, heels clicking like gunshots on the floor.

but jaemin didn’t stay behind.

he stood outside the club with his hood pulled low over his face, his messy fringe shadowing his eyes. he watched every man that looked at you. every one of them who dared to laugh too loud, stand too close, glance too long.

his hand was clenched tight in the pocket of his hoodie, fingers wrapped around the handle of the knife he’d taken from his kitchen drawer. just in case.

he hadn’t planned to use it. really. but if someone touched you, if someone hurt you—

he wasn’t going to let that happen. not to you.

you were laughing with your friends, sipping your drink like nothing could touch you. your dress was short, your legs crossed, your lipstick perfect. every man in the room looked at you like you were a prize to win.

but they didn’t understand.

you weren’t a prize.

you were a goddess.

and jaemin? he was the sword at your altar.

your friends had gone to the bathroom in a group, and for once, you let yourself stand alone, basking in the attention like it was sunlight — until he came.

some random guy. drunk. sloppy. bold in all the wrong ways. he reeked of cheap cologne and desperation, stumbling up to you like he thought you’d be impressed.

“you’re too pretty to be alone,” he slurred, grabbing your wrist before you could step back.

you rolled your eyes and yanked your arm away. “i am alone because i want to be. get lost.”

he laughed, low and ugly, and leaned in, trying to whisper something into your ear — and that’s when his hand slid down your back, groping without shame, fingers curling possessively over your ass.

you gasped, shoving him away with your purse. “get your fucking hands off me.”

but he didn’t listen. he grabbed your waist with both hands this time, tighter, trying to pull you toward the hallway leading to the bathrooms. “come on, don’t be like that—”

panic bloomed fast in your chest.

you tried to fight — kicked, shoved, cursed — but he was too strong, too fast, too sure of himself. his grip bruised, and your voice caught in your throat when he yanked you again, harder, enough to make you stumble.

“LET GO OF ME!” you screamed.

you screamed, tried to hit the guy with your bag, but he was bigger than you — stronger — and your friends were too far, the music too loud. you twisted in his grip, eyes filling with tears, trying to scream again but the panic was too much.

and that’s when he appeared.

you didn’t see him at first — just felt the sudden weight disappear from your body as the man was ripped away from you.

a blur of black hoodie, messy bangs shadowing furious eyes, and then fists.

jaemin didn’t say a word.

he just launched at the guy, tackling him to the floor in a savage, bone-snapping crash. fists flying, jaw clenched so tight you thought he’d shatter his teeth. the music didn’t drown it out — you heard the first punch land. then the second. then the third.

blood splattered up jaemin’s arm as he kept hitting, again and again, teeth bared like an animal, like he wasn’t even human anymore — just pure rage wrapped in your name.

“don’t. fucking. touch. her.” he shouted with every blow.

your knees buckled, mascara streaking down your cheeks as you watched, frozen, trembling.

security rushed in. people were screaming.

they grabbed jaemin, yanking him off the now-unconscious man, dragging both of them out of the club. but jaemin didn’t struggle. he never took his eyes off you, even while being dragged away. his lip was split. his knuckles raw. his breathing ragged.

you followed.

you had to.

outside, the bouncers shoved them into the street and slammed the door behind them. jaemin barely felt it. his pulse was roaring in his ears, his hands shaking. the man was still coughing, still alive.

jaemin turned slowly, blood on his shirt, his hand clutching something deep in the pocket of his hoodie.

your eyes widened. “jaemin…”

he pulled it out.

a knife.

not huge. not fancy. but sharp, gleaming under the streetlight. his hands trembled as he looked at the man slumped beside him — groaning, half-conscious — and then up at you.

he saw your smeared makeup. the tear on your dress. the faint bruise on your arm where the bastard had grabbed you.

and jaemin snapped.

“he touched you,” he whispered, voice broken. “he hurt you.”

“jaemin—”

"stay back, y/n," he said, not looking at you. "you shouldn't have to see this. i’ll clean up the mess."

but it was too late.

he lunged forward, fast and deliberate. the knife sank deep. once. twice. again. the man choked on blood, coughing and struggling, but jaemin didn’t stop. he stabbed and stabbed, his face twisted in something halfway between agony and bliss.

it was fast. brutal. precise.

“don’t ever fucking touch what’s mine,” he growled.

by the time it was over, the alley was quiet. just the sound of your heartbeat thudding in your ears, and jaemin panting, covered in blood, shaking like he’d come down from a high.

you were standing there, clutching your wrist, mascara smudged from your tears. when jaemin looked at you, saw your fear, something in him snapped.

his eyes were wild, feral, but when they landed on you… they softened.

“he hurt you. i told you i’d protect you.” you stared at him, trembling.

he took a step forward, still holding the knife. “you’re mine, y/n. no one gets to put their hands on you. no one.”

he dropped the weapon like it burned him, then reached for you — gently, reverently, like you were glass.

"you're safe now," he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from your face with bloodied fingers. "i'll always protect you, no matter what it takes."

your breath was still uneven, chest rising and falling as you stared at him — at the blood dripping from his fingers, the wild look in his eyes, the lifeless body on the ground. the alley smelled like metal and sweat and something sickly sweet, like roses blooming in rot.

and yet…

you weren’t afraid of him.

you should’ve been. anyone else would’ve run. screamed. called the cops.

but not you.

because this was jaemin. your jaemin.

your precious, broken little pet who would’ve let himself burn alive if you asked.

he looked up at you, hands shaking. “i’m sorry,” he whispered. “i didn’t mean to—i just couldn’t let him hurt you, i couldn’t—”

you walked up to him slowly, heels clicking on the pavement, and cupped his bloody face in your hand.

“shhh,” you murmured. “don’t apologize.”

his eyes widened, lips trembling. “you’re not... mad?”

you tilted your head, smiling. “mad? baby, you just killed for me.”

he blinked, stunned silent.

you leaned in closer, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “do you have any idea how fucking hot that is?”

he let out a shaky breath — half a gasp, half a whimper — as you licked the blood off his cheek. his knees buckled. he almost collapsed right there in the alley.

“you’re mine,” you whispered, grabbing him by the jaw. “you don’t belong to the law. you don’t belong to this world. you belong to me. and when someone touches what’s mine…”

you looked down at the body, then back at him.

“…you did exactly what you were supposed to do.”

he moaned — actually moaned — like your words were slicing through him deeper than the knife ever could. his cock was already hard, twitching in his pants, pressed tight against the fabric of his jeans. he was still trembling, pupils blown wide, lips parted like he was in some kind of trance.

“you want your reward now, don’t you?” you teased, nails dragging lightly down his chest.

“please,” he begged. “please, y/n, i—i need—”

“on your knees.”

he dropped instantly.

there, in the alley, with blood on his hands and the weight of his sin still fresh on his skin — he knelt before you like a disciple.

you lifted your dress just enough to expose your thighs, watching the way his eyes locked onto you like he was starving.

“you were so brave, baby,” you purred, running your fingers through his messy hair. “my perfect little killer. my good boy.”

he let out a broken, wrecked sound, mouth already open, tongue out, begging for a taste of you like it was communion.

and you gave it to him.

you tugged him closer by the hair, guiding his face between your thighs, his blood-stained lips kissing the inside of your skin like he was worshipping an altar. he licked you like a man possessed — sloppy, desperate, moaning against your heat as you rocked your hips into his mouth.

“this is what you get,” you hissed, thighs tightening around his head. “for being such a perfect monster.”

he nodded as best he could, unable to stop himself from rutting against nothing, grinding like a dog in heat. he didn’t care. he didn’t need to cum. he just needed to serve.

you came on his tongue, eyes locked on his as you moaned his name, and it hit him harder than anything else ever could. his whole body shook.

when you finally pulled back, your inner thighs glistening with spit and slick and smeared red, you looked down at him with that same icy, dangerous smirk.

“clean up the mess, baby.”

he licked his lips, chin stained, and nodded.

“yes, mistress.”

you didn’t ask what he did with the body.

you didn’t need to.

he came back to you hours later, hands scrubbed raw, face pale, blood washed off but eyes still wild. he knocked on your window, not your front door. of course he did. like a stray cat, dirty and loyal, hoping you’d let him in again.

and you did.

you always did.

“get in,” you said, voice low, silk-soft. “did you clean up?”

he nodded.

“did you leave anything behind?”

“no. not a trace.”

you leaned in close, your perfume wrapping around him like smoke. “good boy.”

he whimpered, eyes rolling back slightly like those two words alone made him dizzy. your praise was his drug — one taste, and he’d bleed himself dry for another.

you pulled him inside, sat him on your bed like he was fragile, precious, something to be handled with care. and then you straddled his lap, your fingers curling around the back of his neck as your lips brushed his ear.

“tell me,” you whispered. “what did you do with him?”

“i dragged him to the back lot,” jaemin muttered, voice thick with adrenaline and need. “there’s a place behind the dumpsters where no one ever goes. used my jacket to wipe the blood. took the knife apart and buried the pieces. burned the clothes. no cameras. no witnesses.”

you smiled.

“look at you,” you purred. “you’d make such a good little hitman. maybe that’s what i’ll use you for next.”

he whined — actually whined — at the idea. “i’ll do anything, y/n. anything. i just want to be yours. please. let me stay yours.”

you grabbed his jaw, hard enough to make him shut up, and stared into his eyes like you could see his soul.

“you’ll always be mine. but only as long as you behave.”

he nodded frantically, breath coming out fast.

two days later, the police showed up at school.

the guy’s friends had reported him missing. the alley was clean, but the club had cameras outside. no clear footage, just shadows and outlines. not enough to make arrests, but enough to raise eyebrows.

you were in the office when they called you in for questioning. not as a suspect. just someone who might’ve seen something. you played it perfectly — innocent, sweet, a little shaken up but not too much.

“i left early,” you said, blinking slowly at the officer. “i wasn’t feeling well. my friends stayed longer. i didn’t see anything weird.”

they let you go. of course they did.

but jaemin?

you found him in the back of the library, curled in on himself, hoodie up, chewing on the skin of his thumb until it bled.

“they’re gonna find out,” he whispered when you sat down beside him. “they’re gonna take me away. i can’t leave you. i can’t—”

“look at me.”

he did. instantly.

“you’re not going anywhere,” you said, voice firm. “you’re mine. and i protect what’s mine.”

he stared at you like you hung the stars.

you leaned in, lips ghosting over his. “tonight. my place. you’re staying the night. i want to play with my toy.”

that night, he arrived exactly on time. showered, dressed in black like always. your parents weren’t home — they rarely were. and your bedroom? your bedroom was your temple. silk sheets. soft lighting. perfume heavy in the air. and in the center of it all, you — wearing his favorite dress, the one that made him want to kneel the second he saw it.

“strip,” you ordered the moment he stepped inside.

he obeyed.

you didn’t even touch him right away. you just circled him like a predator, watching the way his cock twitched with every step, how his breath hitched whenever you got too close.

“you really killed someone for me,” you whispered, dragging a fingernail down his chest. “doesn’t that make you mine forever?”

“yes,” he gasped. “please—claim me. mark me. ruin me.”

“mm,” you smirked. “as you wish.”

you pushed him back on the bed, pulled a collar from your nightstand — red leather, gold buckle, a tag that read “property of y/n.”

his eyes rolled back as you strapped it around his neck.

“now you’re really mine.”

he came untouched.

and you laughed — a dark, delighted sound — as you leaned down to kiss his trembling lips.

the collar clicked into place with a soft metallic snap, and something in jaemin broke.

his chest rose and fell rapidly, throat bobbing as he tried to catch his breath. the red leather sat snug against his skin, and the little gold tag with property of y/n glinted under the warm light of your bedroom.

you sat back on your heels and smiled at the sight of him: flushed, leaking, eyes glassy, lips parted like he couldn’t believe this was real. your pretty killer boy, naked and on his knees at the foot of your bed, dick already hard and dripping against his stomach just from the feeling of belonging to you.

“how does it feel?” you asked softly, tilting your head as you ran your fingers through his hair.

he shuddered. “i… i can’t—” he whimpered, dropping his head. “it’s everything. i feel like—like i’m not even human anymore. just… yours.”

you tugged his hair hard enough to make him gasp and tilt his head back to look at you. “that’s exactly what you are, jaemin. not a person. not a man. just a thing i use.”

his cock twitched violently, and a low, desperate moan escaped his throat.

you shoved him backward onto the mattress with one hand, straddling his hips with slow, commanding ease. he didn’t dare move — not unless you told him to. he just looked up at you like you were holy, his hands gripping the sheets so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“i’ve been thinking about this since the alley,” you murmured, dragging your nails down his chest, leaving angry red lines in their wake. “you looked so hot covered in blood. all that violence. all that loyalty.”

he moaned under his breath, trying to buck his hips, but you slapped his thigh — hard — and he immediately stilled, lips wobbling.

“ah-ah,” you tsked. “bad dogs don’t get rewards.”

“i’m sorry,” he breathed. “please, mistress, please—i’ll be good, i’ll be perfect, just… please use me.”

you leaned down until your lips brushed his, but you didn’t kiss him. not yet. you wanted him starving.

“you are perfect,” you whispered. “my perfect little psycho.”

and then you sank down on him.

he screamed.

his back arched off the bed, hands flying to your thighs but freezing midair like he didn’t dare touch you without permission. his whole body shook as you took every inch of him, tight and slow, grinding down until you were seated fully on his cock.

“fuck,” you groaned, tossing your hair back. “you’re so hard for me. so full. you’re gonna make me cum just from the way you’re twitching inside me, baby.”

jaemin sobbed.

his eyes rolled back, tears already slipping down his cheeks from how overwhelming it was — the stretch, the heat, the pleasure, the weight of your power over him. he’d killed for you. he’d die for you. but this?

this was worse. this was better. this was fucking heaven.

you started to move — slow, deliberate rolls of your hips that made him whimper with every pass. his mouth dropped open, tongue lolling slightly, and you couldn’t help but laugh as you leaned forward to spit right on it.

he swallowed it like it was gold.

“filthy fucking dog,” you whispered, voice dark and breathless. “you like when i degrade you, don’t you?”

“yes,” he gasped. “i’m yours — your dog, your toy, your killer — please, please don’t stop—”

you slapped him across the face, just once. sharp enough to make him reel, not enough to hurt.

“shut the fuck up.”

he moaned like he came from that alone.

you rode him harder then — fast, punishing, loud. the bed creaked, the sound of skin against skin filled the room, and jaemin was babbling nonsense now: “so good, so tight, i love you, i’d kill again, i’d do anything, please don’t ever leave me, please—”

you leaned in close and kissed him — hard — your teeth catching his bottom lip as you pulled away just enough to whisper against his mouth:

“if the cops ever come for us, you’re taking the fall.”

“yes,” he gasped. “yes, of course, i’ll take it all, i’ll protect you—”

“and if i want you to kill again?”

“just give me a name.”

you came just from that.

your nails dug into his shoulders, your head falling back as your orgasm crashed through you, but you didn’t stop. you used him, over and over, until you were soaked and shaking, until he was the one crying — tears and drool on his face, cock aching and untouched because he knew he couldn’t cum unless you let him.

“please,” he sobbed, trembling under you. “please let me cum, please—i need it, need you—”

you cupped his cheeks and leaned in close, your voice low and venom-sweet.

“cum for me, you sick little freak.”

he screamed your name as he came, hard and violent, his whole body convulsing beneath you.

and as he lay there, twitching, ruined, panting like an animal at your feet…

you smiled.

because he was yours.

completely.

[velvetvowsandvikingdreams]

˗ˏˋ༻ʚ♡︎ɞ༺ˎˊ˗Only for Me˗ˏˋ༻ʚ♡︎ɞ༺ˎˊ˗

Summary: Ivar returns from a successful raid bearing many gifts for you...

Warnings: implied!smut, possessive!Ivar, nudity, mature themes, sensuality, fluff, established relationship, Ivar just spoiling you

Pairing: Ivar x reader

Words: 1,3 k (short & sweet) 🫶🏼

You were alone in your chamber, the low fire casting golden shadows on the walls, lost in your thoughts, when the sound of the door creaking open made you turn.

And there he was.

Ivar.

For a moment, you simply stared—your breath caught in your throat. You hadn’t even known he’d returned from his raid, but now, standing there in the doorway, wind-tousled and grinning mischievously, he looked like everything you’d been missing.

A cry of joy escaped your lips as you turned and rushed toward him, arms flinging around his shoulders.

“My love…” he murmured against your hair, breath warm at your temple. His crutch wobbled as your sudden embrace nearly knocked him off balance.

“Careful, love,” he chuckled, catching himself with a grunt, but his arm circled your waist anyway, dragging you close. He had missed this. Your body—your scent.

“I missed you so much,” you whispered against the side of his neck, your fingers grasping in the leather of his tunic, unwilling to let go.

His chest rumbled with a soft laugh. “Have you, now?” he said, tilting his head just slightly so his lips brushed your cheek.

You leaned back just enough to meet his gaze, your eyes narrowed as you playfully nudged his shoulder. “Don’t get smug. It was peaceful without your loud mouth for a while.”

He gave you a mock wounded look. “And here I come bearing gifts, expecting a warm welcome—and this is how I’m treated?”

Your eyes widened, curiosity immediately betraying you. “Gifts?”

He smirked, clearly pleased with himself. “But now I’m thinking I should give them to someone who actually likes me.”

You gasped, feigning offense. “I love you, you brute. That should be enough.”

“It’s not,” he said, lips twitching with amusement. “I require groveling. And maybe a kiss.”

“Just one?” you teased, rising onto your toes, lips already brushing his.

“Well,” he murmured, voice low, “we’ll start with one.”

“Shut up and come here.” You teased rolling your eyes before kissing him softly.

Ivar made his way to the edge of the bed, easing down with a soft grunt, his crutch resting between his legs as he leaned back on his palms, eyes never leaving you.

“You're staring,” you said, raising an eyebrow as you turned toward him.

“Can you blame me?” he drawled, smirking. “I go away for weeks, and somehow you manage to look even more beautiful. Is this witchcraft?”

Before you could answer, a soft knock came at the door, and a young skald slipped inside, arms full. Then another followed. And another. They carried bundles of fabric, silk, leather, furs—an explosion of color and texture.

Your jaw dropped as they kept piling everything onto a nearby chest and the foot of the bed. When the last skald bowed awkwardly and left, closing the door behind him, you turned slowly, blinking at the sheer amount of it all.

“Ivar…” you said, almost breathless. “What is this?”

He shrugged with mock innocence. “Spoils of war. A few markets. Some terrified merchants.”

“There must be atleast twenty dresses here!” you exclaimed, lifting one deep green velvet gown, the embroidery catching the firelight.

He leaned forward slightly, a hungry glint in his eye. “I thought you could try them on for me. All of them.”

You gave him a look. “All of them? You expect me to be your personal dress doll?”

“I expect you to look stunning in every single one,” he said, voice low and teasing. “And I expect to sit right here and enjoy the view, my pretty doll.”

“You are ridiculous,” you laughed, shaking your head as you picked up a blood-red dress and held it against yourself. “You want me to play dress-up while you just sit there like a king?”

“I am a king,” he said smugly, leaning back again. “And my queen deserves to be spoiled. Now, go on. That red one is calling your name.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but your smile gave you away. “You just want me to undress twenty times in front of you.”

He gave you a slow grin, eyes darkening. “That too.”

You laughed, tossing the red dress at his face. “Turn around. I need to undress.”

“No, I want to watch,” he said through the fabric, not even moving.

“You're impossible.”

“I missed you.”

And there it was again—soft and real beneath the mischief. Your heart squeezed as you met his eyes. Then, with a wink, you grabbed the nearest gown.

“Well then, my king… enjoy the show.”

You turned your back to him, your fingers toying with the ties at the front of your dress.

Ivar fell utterly silent behind you.

Slowly, purposefully, you slipped the straps from your shoulders, letting the fabric slither down your body like water. It pooled at your feet, and you stepped out of it gracefully, standing in nothing but in nudeness—your hands crossing over your chest, coyly covering yourself.

You didn’t have to see him to know he was watching.

The crackle of the fire filled the silence between you, but it didn’t last long.

“By the gods,” Ivar whispered, his voice low and reverent, laced with hunger, “Freya herself would’ve wept if she saw you like this.”

You turned your head slightly over your shoulder, catching his gaze. His eyes were dark, devouring every inch of you.

“You’ve missed this?” you asked softly, teasing.

“I’ve missed the curve of your back, the slope of your hips, the way the light wraps around your skin like it’s worshiping you,” he murmured. “I have faced storms and blood and fire, but nothing—nothing—made me ache the way being away from you did.”

You felt your heart flutter at his words, even as your lips curved playfully. “You’re getting poetic, my love.”

He leaned forward, elbows resting on his crutch, looking at you like a man starved. “Poets are fools. I am simply a man with eyes. And a wife who tortures me with that slow, wicked way she undresses.”

You laughed, finally turning to face him—still shielding your chest with your arms. “So what now, my king? You just watch while I model for you like some Viking nobleman’s pet?”

“Oh, no,” he smirked, eyes raking down your figure. “You’re no pet. You’re a goddess. And I plan to worship you—one dress at a time.”

You rolled your eyes fondly as Ivar held up another dress, this one a deep blue with silver thread glinting along the hem. He looked ridiculously proud of himself.

“I swear, you raided half the known world for fabric,” you muttered, tossing aside a fur-lined cloak to dig through the growing pile.

He didn’t deny it.

“There’s one more,” he said suddenly, voice shifting—deeper, rougher. “A special one.”

You paused, glancing over your shoulder. “Special how?”

He didn’t answer—just leaned back, arms crossed, a slow, wicked smile spreading across his face.

Curious, you turned back to the chest and dug further beneath the silk, the fine linens, the brocade. Your hand brushed something different—lighter, smoother. You pulled it out slowly, and your brows lifted.

It shimmered in the firelight. The fabric was unlike the others—thin and sheer, a woven gauze of fine-spun flax, likely beaten and softened until it flowed like mist. It wasn’t dyed, but it caught the light with a ghostly glow, like moonlight trapped in cloth. It must’ve come from far in the East, perhaps from some Frankish trader—or stolen from the chest of a nobleman’s bride.

You held it up, and the light bled right through it.

“Ivar,” you breathed, glancing back at him.

His gaze was already on you, dark and burning. “That one,” he said softly, “is not for feasts. Not for festivals. Not for courts or halls.”

You swallowed, heart thudding.

“That one is only for me,” he continued, his voice rough like gravel and smoke. “To be worn in this room. In this firelight. When the gods are asleep and it’s only you and I.”

Your fingers tightened around the delicate cloth. “It’s barely even a dress.”

“It’s enough,” he said, his eyes trailing down your still-bare form. “Enough to drive me mad.”

You looked at it again, then met his eyes, challenging. “And what do I get, if I wear it for you?”

He leaned forward, that half-smile curling his lips—the kind he only wore when he was plotting something. “The devotion of a god. And the ruin of a man.”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “Poets are fools, you said.”

“And I am the greatest fool of them all,” he replied, voice soft now. “For you.”

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.

Taglist (If you want to get added write/comment) 🎀

@tessakate @ivarlover @deathsthighs

[romerona]

The Swan Princess; Westeros Version.

The Targaryen Princess is the younger sister of Rhaenyra and the second daughter of King Viserys and the late Queen Aemma x Lord Cregan Stark in a dynamic inspired by The Swan Princess.

Viserys and Rickon Stark arrange for the princess and Cregan to be wed once she comes of age. To build familiarity, they reunite them every few years (a rare moment of decency among men in House of the Dragon, but let's roll with it). However, from a young age, they absolutely despise each other, a classic love-hate relationship.

Young fem Targ reader x young Cregan Stark.

Warnings: lost in woods, dragon fire. You are a bit bratty in this one.

Next part

The chill in the air was a far cry from the warmth of Kingslanding, but you hardly minded. The North had its own beauty—the towering pines, the crisp scent of the wind, the distant howl of wolves echoing across the hills. If only the company were as pleasant.

The festivities stretched before you in a blur of movement and laughter, the crackling of firewood and the clinking of tankards creating a raucous melody that grated upon your nerves. You sat at the farthest edge of the gathering, wrapped in a thick cloak lined with white fur, though no amount of warmth could temper the chill in your mood. Your hands remained tightly clasped in your lap, knuckles whitening as you scowled at the merriment before you. It had been your father’s insistence that forced you here—his decree that you must attend, that you must partake in the evening’s revelry.

Worse still, the most grave offence of all, he had instructed you to keep company with Cregan Stark.

Even now, years removed from the infamous cake incident at Aemond’s name day, your sentiments toward the northern boy had remained unchanged. He was still insufferable, still brooding, still insistent upon his wolfish ways as though they were some grand virtue to be admired. And yet, despite all of this, it was not his pride, nor his demeanor, nor even the air of quiet confidence he carried that vexed you most.

No, what was truly infuriating—what you found to be utterly offensive—was the fact that he had the audacity to ignore you.

You had been placed at his side, compelled to endure his presence, forced into this wretched arrangement for the sake of courtesy, and yet, rather than offer you the same indignity in return, he had simply dismissed you. The moment his friends arrived, he had risen without so much as a word, without even the pretence of obligation, and left you to fester in solitude.

He stood now near the firepit, surrounded by a group of northern boys, all older, taller—men who had long since begun their training. Their laughter came in low, rumbling tones, mingling with the scent of burning wood and roasted meat, and though you could not make out his words, Cregan spoke amongst them with ease, his presence welcomed.

You had not seen him in years, and yet you could not deny that he had grown, shoulders broader than before, height now eclipsing most boys of his age. Even his curls, dark and unruly as they had always been, seemed somehow thicker, falling slightly over his brow as he laughed—laughed, as though there was nothing amiss, as though your presence here was of no consequence to him.

Your jaw tightened as you tore your gaze away, huffing in frustration. You would not look at him any longer. You would not care. You were now ignoring him. And yet, your glare turns back at him each time you hear his laugh.

Aegon’s voice cut through your silent brooding, the young prince’s ever-curious eyes fixed upon you with unabashed intrigue. “Why do you glare so?”

You barely turned your head, already knowing who it was. Your younger brother was only a few years your junior, yet he clung to your side like a shadow, a lost pup who had long since decided you were the only one worthy of following.

“I do not glare,” you muttered, though the way your lips curled and your brows furrowed likely told a different story.

Aegon tilted his head, considering you with the sharp, unfiltered perception of youth. “You do. You look as though you wish to set Lord Stark aflame, dear sister.”

You huffed, arms crossing over your chest as you tore your gaze away from Cregan.

"He was commanded to keep me company," you grumbled, voice laced with frustration. "Yet he acts as though I am naught but air. A mere ghost to be disregarded at his leisure."

Aegon made a small sound of contemplation, his expression screwing up as he pondered your words. “Why would you wish for that brute’s company when you have mine?”

His words, meant in earnest, only deepened your scowl. You did not wish for Cregan’s company—not truly. You did not long for his attention, nor did you crave his words. And yet, it was the principle of the matter. You had been made to sit with him, and now he had left you, wholly unbothered, wholly unconcerned by your absence.

Aegon followed your gaze toward the firepit, where Cregan remained engrossed in his conversation, unaware—or perhaps entirely indifferent—to your displeasure. The young prince pursed his lips, curiosity dancing in his eyes as he surveyed the tall boy by the fire. Then, with a small shrug, he turned back to you, his expression equal parts mischievous and concerned. “Truly, sister, if it vexes you so, why pay him any heed at all?”

Your fingers curled into the plush fabric of your cloak, your jaw tightening. Because it was he who had been told to keep you company. Because it was he who should have felt the burden of obligation. And yet, here you sat, the only one who seemed to care at all.

If Cregan Stark would not give you his attention willingly, then you would seize it for yourself.

With a suddenness that startled even Aegon, you rose from your seat, gathering your cloak about you with deliberate precision. The prince started to trail after you both, but you shot him a glare.

“Stay.”

Your steps were swift and sure as you strode toward the firepit, your chin lifted in quiet defiance. The group of northern boys remained deep in conversation, their voices low and unhurried, wholly unaware of the storm descending upon them.

As you came to stand beside him, the lords and boys surrounding Cregan quickly straightened, some bowing their heads in deference to your presence. You, however, afforded them no such courtesy, your lilac eyes fixed solely on the one who had so rudely dismissed you.

Cregan barely spared you a glance. “Princess.”

The half-hearted greeting made your blood simmer. You bristled, tilting your chin higher. “Lord Stark.”

And then—nothing. No further acknowledgement. No shift in posture or interest. Cregan merely turned back to his friends, as if you were no more than a passing breeze.

Your fingers curled at your sides. How dare he?

You cleared your throat, tilting your head with measured patience. “You were tasked with keeping me company, were you not?”

Cregan exhaled through his nose, the sound heavy with exasperation, before finally turning his full attention to you. “Aye.”

“Yet here you are, neglecting your duty,” you remarked, eyes narrowing.

A sharp snicker rang out from one of the northern boys, earning him a withering look from Cregan before the lord’s gaze returned to you. “I did not think you cared for my company.”

“I do not,” you answered swiftly, folding your arms across your chest. “But if I must endure yours, then it is only fair you endure mine.”

Another laugh, low and knowing, rippled through the group. One of the taller boys clapped Cregan on the shoulder, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You’ve been summoned, Lord Stark.”

Cregan groaned, dragging a hand down his face as though praying for patience. Then, with great reluctance, he turned fully to you, his stance shifting from stubborn resistance to resigned duty. “And what is it you wish to do, Princess?”

You smirked, pleased to have drawn him from his indifference. “Something more interesting than standing around talking about whatever it is northerner boys talk about.”

Cregan studied you for a long, silent moment, as though weighing the depth of your mischief. Then, with a slow exhale, he gave a small shake of his head. “Fine.”

Turning to his friends, he gave a nod toward the woods. “I’ll be back.”

One of the older boys scoffed, his lips curling around the rim of his cup as he slurred, “Truly? You’d leave us for the spoilt princess?”

A silence fell over the group. A heavy, expectant silence.

The moment the words left his wine-soaked lips, the others stiffened, some even taking a wary step back. The drunken fool clearly did not yet realize his mistake, but they did.

You were no mere noblewoman to be dismissed with a careless insult.

The beloved pearl of the Seven Kingdoms, cherished not only by your father, the King but by all who saw you as the living embodiment of Targaryen's grace and beauty. A girl born of fire and blood, as regal as she was untouchable.

And yet, this boy—this fool—had dared speak of you so carelessly.

“A spoilt princess, am I?” you mused, your tone dangerously even.

Your lilac eyes narrowed, the firelight casting an eerie glow across your sharp features. Though you were years younger, though you stood two heads shorter, you advanced without hesitation, your steps measured, deliberate, until you were close enough to look up at the fool who had so carelessly spoken.

The silence was suffocating.

The boy, for all his bravado, swayed slightly, the haze of wine doing little to shield him from the weight of your gaze. The others watched, rigid as stone, none daring to intervene.

Then, after a long pause, you smiled. It was not kind.

It was the smile of a dragon before it struck. The smile of a queen before she passed judgment. The kind of smile that sent men to their knees in fear rather than admiration.

The boy swallowed thickly, his drunken haze evaporating beneath the weight of your presence.

“Well?” you asked, your voice quiet but carrying effortlessly over the crackling flames. “Do speak plainly, my lord. I would so love to hear what else you think of me.”

The drunken fool licked his lips, throat bobbing as he tried to summon some semblance of wit. “I meant no—”

“You meant,” you interrupted smoothly, taking another deliberate step forward, “to insult me.”

He flinched.

“Or was it my father you sought to offend?” Your voice remained sweet, but the question was anything but. “Perhaps my mother’s memory? My House?”

The boy visibly shrank beneath your gaze, as though the very air had grown heavier. He looked to Cregan, then to his companions, seeking an escape, but none would meet his eye. Smart of them.

He opened his mouth, no doubt to stammer some pathetic attempt at an apology, but before he could, Cregan finally moved.

A heavy hand clamped down on the fool’s shoulder, forcing him to bow slightly under its weight. The pressure was not enough to harm, but it was a warning—a silent command that made the onlookers still, their laughter long since faded into tense silence.

“I believe you’ve had too much wine, Beron,” Cregan said evenly, though there was no mistaking the quiet steel in his voice. “Best you retire before you make an even greater fool of yourself.”

Beron, now pale as freshly fallen snow, swallowed hard. His bravado, so apparent mere moments ago, had fled entirely. With a stiff nod, he stepped back, avoiding your gaze as though even looking at you would seal his doom.

You watched him go, the smirk that ghosted across your lips a silent testament to your satisfaction. Yet when you turned back to Cregan, whatever fleeting amusement you held vanished in an instant, replaced once more by the simmering irritation that had plagued you all evening.

Your lilac eyes narrowed, scrutinizing him as though his very presence was an affront, as though you were still deciding whether he was just as insufferable as the fool you had just put in his place. Then, with your chin lifted in a haughty display of royal indignation, you turned sharply on your heel, your cloak billowing behind you as you huffed and stalked away.

Cregan exhaled, long and weary, dragging a rough hand down his face before shaking his head.

“Seven hells,” he muttered under his breath, before striding after you. It seemed, despite his better judgment, that the wolf had no choice but to follow where the dragon led.

Cregan Stark prided himself on his patience.

It was expected of him as his father’s heir, a virtue drilled into him through endless lessons of duty and restraint. The North was not a place for rash tempers or childish squabbles. A Stark must be measured, composed, and above all, steady as the winter itself—the blood of the First Men ran through his veins, and wolves did not rise to petty bait.

And yet—yet—every time he was forced into your company, that patience unravelled thread by thread.

"Is that how you always spend your time?" you asked, voice laced with disdain as you pulled your cloak tighter around you. The cold bit at your skin, but your words were sharper still. "Standing about like a pack of hounds, waiting for scraps?"

Cregan inhaled sharply, his broad shoulders rising and falling in slow, measured restraint. Do not rise to it, he told himself. He had learned your ways over the years, how you delighted in needling him, in picking at his patience like a raven pecking at carrion.

He exhaled through his nose, his expression carefully schooled into neutrality. "We speak of things that matter, Princess. Not childish games."

You tilted your head, the firelight catching in the silver strands of your braided hair. A picture of innocence—if one ignored the glint in your lilac eyes, the one that spoke of mischief, of provocation.

"Oh, I see," you murmured, voice rich with mock understanding. "Of course. You and your very important northern discussions."

Your lips curled, and then you added, as light as silk, "Please, you are raised in ice, you drink only ale, and you spend your days rolling about in the mud like dogs. No wonder you all behave like them."

Cregan’s jaw tightened.

He had sworn to himself—no, he swore to his father—that he would not let you get a rise out of him tonight. That he would be the proper lord, ever respectful, ever unshaken. That he would not let himself be drawn into yet another one of your endless games.

Still, his jaw tensed as he shot you a look. “You claim we are dogs, Princess, yet you stand before our fire, eating from our table, taking from our land. Tell me, which of us is truly the hound?”

Your lilac eyes flashed—not anger, but amusement. And that infuriated him more than anything.

You stepped closer, your perfume—something warm and spiced—reaching his nose. “Clever, almost.”

Cregan hated the way his pulse quickened, just slightly. He hated the way you spoke to him, like he was still a child playing at being a man. He hated the way you always—always—knew exactly how to get under his skin.

He exhaled through his nose, forcing himself to remain composed. But that wasn’t enough. He needed to wipe that insufferable smirk from your face.

And then an idea struck him.

So, he did the only thing he could. He smirked. “Perhaps, Princess, you would rather see something truly northern? Something worthy of your oh-so-refined tastes?”

Your brow lifted, intrigue flashing across your face. “And what could a northern brute possibly have that would interest me?”

Cregan let his smirk widen, taking a step back. “Have you ever seen a direwolf?”

Your interest was immediate. “A direwolf?”

“Aye. There are dire wolves in these woods," he said smoothly, watching you carefully. "I know where a litter has been whelped, I can take you if you wish.”

Your posture stiffened, your lips parting slightly before pressing into a thin line. Then— “Truly?”

He shrugged, his voice even. “Do you doubt my word?”

You hesitated, shifting on your feet. "I have heard the North’s wolves are fearsome things, the size of horses.”

“They are,” he agreed smoothly, “but I thought a daughter of the dragon would not be afraid of such creatures.”

Your lilac eyes burned with indignation. “I am not afraid.”

Cregan tilted his head. “Then let us see, shall we?”

He should have felt guilty.

Should have.

But as he returned to his friends, leaving you in the depths of the woods, he found himself feeling nothing but satisfaction.

You had followed him eagerly, your irritation at the feast long forgotten in your excitement to see a direwolf. He had led you deep into the forest, far from the warmth of the fire, far enough that the trees blocked out most of the moonlight.

And then, at the perfect moment, he had stepped behind a tree—and vanished.

You had called his name at first, your voice carrying through the trees with only the rustling of the leaves to answer you. Then came the frustration.

“Cregan Stark, if this is some jape, I swear to all gods!”

There was a pause. Then the crunch of leaves as you turned in place, the sharp inhale of breath when you realized you were alone.

“Cregan, this is not amusing,” you called, irritation creeping into your voice.

Oh, but it was amusing.

Cregan remained just out of sight, arms crossed over his chest, watching. He would let you sit with your own pride for a little while. Let you feel what it was like to be dismissed, to be toyed with. It was not cruel, not truly—he knew exactly where you were. You would be fine. And if this humbled you even a little, then perhaps it would be worth the scolding he would inevitably receive.

So he left. He had walked back leisurely, even laughing under his breath as he rejoined the gathering, pleased with himself in a way he hadn’t been in years.

It would serve you right, little dragon.

You would stomp your feet and pout, calling him every manner of insult, but he would return before long, retrieve you from whatever spot you were sulking in, and that would be the end of it.

At least, that was what should have happened.

But when people began to ask where the lovely princess had gone—when Lord Rickon turned his sharp gaze on Cregan and asked if he had seen you last—something unpleasant curled in his stomach.

His smirk faded.

Cregan made his way back to where he had left you, his steps quickening when he realized the spot was empty. No footprints in the dirt. No sign of where you had gone.

Panic seized his chest as he turned in a slow circle. “Princess?”

Nothing. His heartbeat hammered in his ears as he called your name again.

This was not how this was meant to go. You were supposed to be sitting on a fallen log, arms crossed, scowling at him when he returned. Not gone.

Cregan Stark, heir to Winterfell, had lost a Targaryen princess in the woods. And if he did not find you soon, he was as good as dead.

He swallowed thickly, taking a deep breath. You couldn’t have gone far. You were here somewhere. And the thought that you weren’t—that something had happened to you—made his stomach twist in a way he did not care to name.

You were going to kill him.

Not in the quiet, polite way of the court, with veiled insults and sharp words—no, you were going to strangle Cregan Stark with your bare hands the moment you found him... If you found him.

The forest was darker now, the thick canopy overhead blotting out the last slivers of evening light. You had walked for what felt like hours, your frustration growing with each passing moment. At first, you had been determined—This is fine. I do not need him. I’ll find my way back.

That had been before your gown had snagged on every possible branch, before you had tripped over a root and scraped your palms raw against the cold earth, before your boots had sunk into thick patches of mud that tried to swallow your steps.

Now, your breaths came sharp and quick, little clouds of mist curling before you. You swallowed against the sting behind your eyes.

Cregan Stark, you absolute vile, unwashed, brute— Had he truly left you? Had he meant for you to never return?

The realization struck like a blow, knocking the breath from your lungs. For all your confidence, for all your stubbornness, you were alone in the middle of a vast northern forest, with no sense of direction and no one to call for help.

Your throat tightened.

No. You would not cry. You would not let the woods of the north to best you.

But as you took another step forward, your foot caught on a tangle of roots, and you pitched forward, crashing onto the damp earth. This time, you did not rise.

A choked sob escaped your lips, your fingers curling into the dirt. You would die here. Your body would be found frozen in the snow, your sister would weep, your father would curse the North, and Cregan Stark—Cregan Stark—would suffer the wrath of the crown.

And yet, none of that mattered if you died here tonight.

Tears burned hot as they slipped down your cheeks, your frustration giving way to something raw—fear. You had never been alone like this before. Never without guards, without your ladies and your maids, without your father or Rhaenyra, that nuisance of your younger brother. You had always been surrounded, shielded, protected but now? Only the cold and the distant rustling of unseen creatures.

You shuddered and forced yourself to sit up, hugging your arms to your chest. The cold was beginning to seep into your bones, its sharp bite burrowing beneath your skin, turning your fingers stiff and clumsy. You clenched them into fists, willing warmth back into them, but it was no use.

If the cold did not claim you, the wolves would.

The thought sent another shiver down your spine.

You turned your head sharply, scanning the darkness between the trees, expecting to see a pair of gleaming eyes watching, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. The woods belonged to creatures far older than men—things that did not fear steel or fire.

A shiver ran down your spine, but you gritted your teeth against it, scanning the trees, your ears straining for the snap of a branch, the rustle of unseen movement.

Fear clawed its way up your throat. Was this how it ended? A Targaryen princess lost to the dark? Devoured in the woods like a nameless peasant?

Your fingers curled into fists in the tattered fabric of your dress. No.

A sudden anger filled you, pushing away the creeping terror. No. You would not sit here and weep like some helpless thing. You would not be claimed by the cold or torn apart by beasts.

You were a dragon and you refused to be brought low by wolves.

A sharp gust of wind howled through the trees, but you rose to your feet, unsteady but determined. You would find shelter. You would make it through the night, and you would see Cregan Stark’s face when you returned, standing tall, unbroken, and victorious.

With that thought burning in your chest, you pressed forward, forcing one foot in front of the other. Your body ached, exhaustion weighing on your limbs, but you did not stop. The forest stretched endlessly before you, the trees twisting and gnarled, their skeletal branches reaching toward the sky.

Then—movement. Your breath caught as you spun, your heart hammering against your ribs. Nothing, but something or someone is watching you. You could feel it.

A slow, uneasy dread settled over you, but you swallowed it down, gripping the tattered edges of your dress as you continued forward.

And then, in the distance, beneath the tangled roots, you saw it- a shadow. A large, gaping darkness ahead, half-hidden beneath the twisting roots of an ancient tree. A cave.

Relief surged through you as you stumbled toward it, slipping beneath the jagged opening. The air inside was cool but dry, the ground packed firm beneath your feet. You exhaled shakily, wrapping your arms around yourself.

The cave was deeper than you expected, the air damp, warmer than the biting cold outside, and heavy with something thick and unplaceable. Each breath you took felt weighted, as though the very air pressed against your ribs.

Something about the scent in the air struck you as familiar.

Sulfur. Ash.

It reminded you of the Dragonpit in King’s Landing, of the deep chambers where the great beasts slumbered, their breath thick with smoke and embers.

But that was absurd, there were no dragons this far to the north. You were exhausted, chilled to the bone, your mind playing tricks on you after hours spent stumbling through the wretched woods. That was all.

You took another cautious step forward, a sharp crunch echoed beneath your foot making you still.

The sound sent a shudder down your spine. It had not been the crisp snap of twigs, nor the shifting of loose stone. It had been brittle, fragile—something breaking.

Your pulse quickened, but you forced yourself to move, to push forward despite the growing weight in your chest. Then your foot struck against something hard. A rock? No...

You bent down slowly, your fingers trembling as you reached into the darkness. The surface beneath your hand was smooth, cold—curved in a way that made your breath hitch. You traced its edge, confusion swirling in your chest.

And then, as your eyes adjusted to the dim light, you saw it. Not a rock, surely not a branch, it was... a scale. A large, dark, scale gleaming faintly in the cave’s dimness.

A low rumble filled the space, vibrating through the very stone beneath you. Your blood turned cold. A slow, rolling shift of movement echoed through the cavern. Then—two massive, golden eyes blinked open.

Your breath caught in your throat as the darkness moved, no— it was not darkness.

It was something massive, curled within the cavern, its long, jagged horns scraping against the stone as it lifted its head. A deep, guttural growl reverberated through the air, rolling over you like thunder, the kind of sound that rattled deep in your bones.

Your body is locked in place.

It’s a dragon. A wild dragon.

You had never felt fear like this before.

It was not the simple fear of falling from a tree, nor the quick, fleeting terror of nearly slipping off a ledge as you climbed the castle walls. This was something deeper, something that wrapped around your chest and squeezed until your breath came in short, panicked gasps.

The dragon was massive.

Larger than any you had ever seen up close, which is a big feat since you have seen Vermithor, its coiled body filling the dark cavern like a living mountain of scale and muscle. Even in the dim light, you could see the dark ridges of its back, the curve of its wings pressed against the walls of the cave. Its tail twitched, stirring the dust at your feet, and then—

It growled.

A low, rumbling sound, deep as thunder rolling through the belly of the earth. The sound made your knees weak, made you feel small, insignificant beneath its burning golden gaze.

You stumbled back, your hands bracing against the cold stone behind you. Your breath came in ragged bursts, your mind screaming at you to run, run, run, but your legs would not move. You had nowhere to go.

The growling deepened, reverberating in your very bones. You had to do something, anything. And so, in the midst of your spiralling panic, you did the only thing you knew how to do.

You talked. In frantic, desperate, trembling High Valyrian, you talked to the beast. "Ñuhon, ñuhon, ñuhon..."

"Nyke Targārien iksan," you stammered, your voice shaking so badly that the words almost slurred together. "Aōha rūvēn iksan, līragon nyke, kostilus." I am a Targaryen. I am your friend, please, do not harm me.

The dragon’s growl did not cease, but something in the way it held itself shifted. Its great head tilted ever so slightly, those massive golden eyes fixed on you, unblinking. Its nostrils flared, taking in your scent, the thick breath of the beast sending a hot gust of air against your face.

"Nyke... nyke jorrāelagon sȳz rūvēn," you continued, your voice no less panicked, but steadier now, clinging to the one thing that had ever given you comfort—words. "Ñuha āeksia, ñuha lenton, ñuha ābrar issi... kostilus, do not hurt me."

The dragon let out a short, huffing sound—not quite a snarl, not quite a sigh. Its wings shifted slightly against the stone, and for one terrible, agonizing moment, you thought it might lunge, might strike.

You squeezed your eyes shut, your heart hammering against your ribs. But no attack came.

Instead, there was another sound—low, almost like a grumble, but different. Less threatening.

You opened your eyes slowly.

The dragon was still watching you, but the growl had lessened into something more like a deep, guttural rumble, a sound you could not quite name. It had listened.

You let out a shuddering breath, your hands still trembling.

"Issa sȳz," you whispered, barely audible.

The dragon huffed again, shifting slightly, its great claws scraping against the cavern floor. It did not bow, did not lower its head in submission—but it did not turn you to ash, either.

You had been heard.

You took a shuddering breath, pressing a hand to your chest in a futile attempt to calm your hammering heart.

"I—I should not be here, you see," you continued, voice wavering but relentless. "I was tricked, abandoned, left to die in this gods-forsaken forest by this imbecile, and I thought this cave would provide me shelter, but instead I find you. And I must say, I do not think this is fair. My father is the King. My sister is Rhaenyra Targaryen, heir to the Iron Throne, and I should not be grovelling before a dragon in the middle of a cursed forest, covered in dirt... fucking stark.

The dragon watched you, unblinking, unmoving, its massive body still half-coiled within the shadows. Its breaths came slow and steady, but the growl had lessened, replaced by something else.

Something like curiosity, so you kept talking.

You told the beast of the cold, how you dislike the chill of the North, how the winds bit at your skin and made your fingers numb. You spoke of your frustrations, of how your father had sent you here, how you had been made to suffer the company of Cregan Stark.

Your voice cracked as you spoke his name, and for some reason, that was when the first tear fell.

You wiped at it furiously, cursing yourself, cursing him, cursing this wretched night. You had been abandoned. Left like a fool to wander the forest, to freeze, to be forgotten. You let out a shaky breath, staring at the dragon before you.

“You would not have abandoned me,” you whispered, voice barely above a breath. “Would you?”

The dragon let out a low, rumbling sound—not quite a growl, but not quite a purr either. Its eyes gleamed like molten gold, sharp and knowing.

And then, to your shock, it moved again.

A slow, deliberate shift of its massive body. Clawed feet scraped against the cavern floor as it unfurled its wings slightly, shaking dust from its scales. Its long neck arched, its nostrils flaring once more.

Then, It lowered its head. Not by much, but enough.

You inhaled sharply, heart hammering, and slowly, hesitantly, you raised a trembling hand. The dragon did not move, it did not growl, did not flinch.

Your fingers brushed against its warm scales. Heat radiated beneath your palm, and for the first time since stepping foot in the woods, you felt safe. Your breath was shallow as you dared to lift your gaze.

Its golden eyes bore into yours, deep and endless, gleaming like molten metal in the dim light of the cavern. And though the beast said nothing—though it made no sound, no movement beyond its slow, steady breathing—you felt it.

Targaryens were of the blood of the dragon. But what was this? It was as though the dragon had recognized you. Not just as a Targaryen. Not just as some lost child who had wandered into its den.

But as its own.

Then, shattering the stillness of the cave, your name rang through the forest, sharp and desperate.

Your fingers curled against the dragon’s warm scales as the peacefulness—the strange, overwhelming sense of belonging—was yanked from you, ripped away by a voice you knew.

Him. Cregan fucking Stark.

You growled, the sound low and guttural in your throat, before turning away from the dragon. The air felt colder now, the cavern’s warmth a distant memory as you marched toward the entrance, your body rigid with fury.

How dare he?

How dare he call for you with such desperation, as though he had not been the one to leave you behind in the first place? As though he was not the reason your hands were scraped raw, your dress torn, your limbs frozen?

The moment you stepped out of the cave, the cold northern air bit at your skin, but you did not falter. Your anger burned hotter than any fire. Cregan’s voice came again, closer this time as he yet again called your name.

And then, you saw him.

A flickering torch in hand, his grey eyes scanning the dark, his normally composed features twisted with something that looked far too close to panic. His tunic was wrinkled, his hair tousled as though he had been running his hands through it and his chest was rising and falling heavily, his mouth slightly parted as though he had been running.

Good. Let him suffer.

His head snapped toward you the moment you stepped into the moonlight. The relief that crossed his face was instant, crashing over him like a wave.

“There you are,” he breathed, already moving toward you. “Gods, I—”

But before he could say anything else, before he could speak a single word of apology— You struck him. Not a slap, not a soft shove, but a full-force push against his chest, sending him stumbling back a step.

“You bastard,” you snarled, your voice shaking with unspent rage. “You left me.”

Cregan caught himself, blinking rapidly, as if stunned. “I—Seven Hells, I thought—”

“You thought what?” you bit out, stepping forward, your torn gown dragging over the forest floor. “That I would wait like a dog for you to come and fetch me?”

His jaw clenched, grey eyes dark with something unreadable as he took another step toward you. “I knew where you were. I never—”

“No, you didn’t,” you spat, the fury burning in your chest like Dragonfire. “Because when you finally came back, I was gone.”

Cregan ran a hand through his curls, exhaling sharply, his frustration plain. “You were supposed to stay there—why in the name of the Old Gods would you leave? In woods, you know nought of?”

“Why did I leave?” you echoed, your voice shaking with fury. “Because I was alone, Stark! Because I was freezing, because the wolves howled closer with every hour because I had no reason to believe you were ever coming back for me.”

Cregan’s expression flickered for a moment, something shifting behind his gaze—guilt. But you didn’t care for it.

His mouth opened as if he meant to speak as if there were words he could summon to undo what he had done. But no words came. Instead, from behind you, a deep, rumbling growl filled the air, low and unrelenting, the sound vibrating through your very bones and the ground shifting beneath you.

Your dragon.

A smirk curled at your lips as you turned your head slightly, just enough to glimpse the massive, hulking form that emerged from the cave’s mouth. The beast’s golden eyes were fixed on Cregan, unblinking, knowing. Steam curled from its nostrils as it stepped forward, claws sinking into the damp earth.

Cregan did not move, did not reach for the sword at his hip. He only watched, his grey eyes locked onto the creature behind you, his breath unsteady.

A slow smirk curled at your lips.

Cregan saw the shift in your face, and before he could react, you turned and took a few deliberate steps toward the beast, your gown dragging over the forest floor, torn and dusted with dirt.

"Wait, princess..." That was when Cregan moved. His hand shot out, gripping your arm, a firm pull—as if he had any right to stop you.

"Don't you dare--" You yanked yourself free, stepping back just in time.

And that was when your dragon struck, a sharp inhale, the air around you shifting—then flames. It wasn’t a full blast, just a warning—a thin stream of fire erupted from the beast’s maw, aimed straight for Cregan. You barely had time to gasp.

Cregan was fast. Faster than you had expected. He spun away just in time, throwing up his arms to shield himself as the flames roared past, illuminating the trees in a flickering orange glow.

Then, silence, making your smirk disappear.

“Cregan?” Your heart lurched as you watched the fire dissipate, smoke curling into the cold northern air.

For a terrifying second, he didn’t move. But then he straightened, breathing hard, his chest rising and falling sharply. He was alive. But when he turned back to you, you had to slap a hand over your mouth to smother the laugh that threatened to escape.

His normally dark curls were dusted in ash, the very tips of them still smouldering. His face was streaked with soot, and most hilariously of all— One of his eyebrows was completely gone.

You blinked. Then blinked again.

Your mouth fell open.

Cregan blinked, then let out a slow, rattled breath, his expression unreadable.

And then, you laughed.

You tried to hold it back, you really did, but it was impossible. The sight of him, wide-eyed, covered in soot with only one eyebrow left, his expression caught between horror and sheer disbelief—it was too much. A burst of laughter slipped through your lips, bubbling uncontrollably as you pressed a hand to your mouth.

Cregan just stared at you, completely dumbfounded.

Then he scowled. “You laugh? After your beast nearly burned my face off?”

You nod, laughing harder, hands clutching your sides, feeling your knees about to give. You wiped a tear from your eye, finally catching your breath. "That is what you get, for leaving me."

He exhaled sharply, still fuming. “You let your dragon burn me.”

“I did not!” you said defensively, though your voice still shook with laughter. “He did it on his own, and he merely singed you. It was a warning.”

You gestured at the dragon, whose golden eyes remained locked on Cregan as if daring him to try anything else. Cregan glared, but the effect was somewhat ruined by his missing eyebrow.

You tilted your head, examining him. “It is an… interesting look.”

He exhaled heavily, looking toward the sky like he was praying for patience. Then, after a beat, he muttered, “I should have left you in the woods.”

You grinned, stepping back toward your dragon, placing a firm hand against its scales. “And yet, here you stand. With only one eyebrow to show for it.”

Cregan shot you a heated glare, the muscles in his jaw tightening as if he were biting back a particularly colourful string of curses you were certain he was about to unleash—until the sound of approaching hooves shattered the moment.

The rhythmic thud of horses against the earth. The muffled crunch of boots stepping through fallen leaves. Then, the glow of torches flickered through the darkness, growing brighter, closer.

Your father had sent people to find you.

You should have felt relieved. Instead, all you could think about was what he would say—what he would do—when he realized what had happened. You were about to be scolded within an inch of your life.

Cregan must have had the same thought, because his shoulders squared, his expression hardening as he turned toward the oncoming riders.

Your dragon let out a low growl, its tail shifting against the forest floor, and you placed a calming hand on its scales.

You cast Cregan one last smirk. “Shall we tell them exactly what happened? Or shall we let them wonder why the heir to Winterfell is missing an eyebrow?”

His glare deepened, but before he could answer, the first of the riders broke through the trees, their torches illuminating the scene before them.

And just like that, the game was over... For now.

A/N

Hiii, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I wanted to stay true to the Y/N vibe and give her a wild dragon, tho, it's not Cannibal. Figure might as well give you something from the north other than Cregan lol. Tell me what you think was it too corny? Also, I don't know if you noticed but I made a jab to Bran, Three-Eyed Raven, just for funsies.

Thank you sooooo much for the support, the likes, comments and reblogs, you all really make me stay motivated.

<3 Thank you so muchhhh.

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[harrysfolklore]

plsss can you make a fake instagram where the reader is a lawyer

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i really liked how this one turned out ! we love sino oscar 🥰 make sure to leave your feedback

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[baby-yongbok]

𝘗𝘪𝘯𝘬 + 𝘞𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦

Hwang Hyunjin 𝗑 Afab!Reader

♡ Genre - Friends to Lovers

♡ CW - Explicit Sexual Content, Unprotected Sex, Nightmares, Alcohol usage by reader, Hyunjin calls reader rose as a nickname, One use of 'y/n'.

♡ Summary - Your avoidant tendencies have allowed the burn of pink and white to keep you Hyunjin at a safe distance until it all comes crashing down. Can the fire that kept you apart also be what brings you together?

♡ Word Count - 9.2k

♡ A/N - I went from not being sure if I liked this fic to being in love with it. I think that it's a very sweet fic and I loved writing it. I worked so hard on it and I'm so proud of it. The goal was for it to be 4k words.. then I almost posted it at 8k but now... yeah. I hope that you love this as much as I do!

♡ Playlist - Pink + White - Frank Ocean, Rainy Days - V, For Us - V, Beautiful Things - Benson Boone, Trajectories - Bruno Major

✧ Masterlist ✧

When you were six years old you punched a boy in the face on the playground. That was the first time that you ever felt the burn of genuine fear.

Your mom along with the many others came swirling around them. When your mother asked you what happened you cried. You clung to her running over to you and the crying brunette boy on the playground with a mix of emotions and explained the best you could through your tears that you didn’t like that he was chasing you, when you agreed to play tag you thought that you’d be the chaser not the one being chased.

That was the day that you learned two things about yourself, you have a habit of acting impulsively when you’re scared and you don’t like being chased. It's suffocating.

As you got older your friends described you as the avoidant type, especially in relationships. You developed a reputation for being an ice queen in your Sophomore year of university which led to you being one of the most sought after girls on campus. 

You’ve lost friends because of this. Their boyfriends saw getting close to them as a gateway to meeting you. Many guys took dating you as a challenge with an end prize of overnight popularity. Unfortunately, some of your closest relationships have been destroyed because of it. You learned not to be sad about it, you’ve come to terms with it, this is just the way that it goes. Of course your other friends were all important to you but you always told yourself that you’re alright with losing them as long as you have your best friend by your side. 

“More roses? Are you in love or something?” You weaved through the cluttered art studio that Hyunjin has claimed as his own. It’s on the dead side of campus on the second floor of a building that was abandoned last year. Your best friend refused to let the studio go when it was shut down, he says that it houses some of his fondest memories. 

“Always in love, never loved back.” He quips, eyes still trained on the canvas. “You’re early.”

You jump up onto one of the few clear desks in the room, right behind his easel. “Chemistry ended early.” Hyunjin stands straight, eyeing his canvas for a second before looking over at you. He knows that you’re skipping class. Your last hook-up is in that class and you're trying to avoid his attempt at getting you in his bed again. If you’re being honest, the decision to sleep with him was impulsive. You blame the beer, all eight of them.

“I thought that we could go to the exhibition early.” He starts another brush stroke and silence swallows you both. “I’m excited about it and if I’m being honest I just wanna spend time with you. I’ve barely seen you for the past three days.”

Hyunjin’s steady hand wavers and he thanks his lucky stars that you didn’t see it. “Aw she misses me. She loves me so much.” The sound of your feet hitting the ground as you jump off of the desk echoes through the dusty room of stacked chairs and forgotten storage items. 

Hyunjin stands and dips the paint brush covered in bright pink in the cup of water next to him. “You could’ve come to my place ya know.” You grab your stuff, swinging your bag onto your shoulder. 

“Your brother is there, you know how he gets.” You scrunch your face at the thought of Hyunjin’s step brother, Jeongin. The two of you get along perfectly, almost as well as you and Hyunjin until Jeongin starts flirting. He confessed to you on New Years and you’ve been avoiding him ever since. He’s too sweet for you, you’d hate to hurt him. “I’m gonna go change, I’ll meet you by your car.”

“You brought a costume change for an art exhibit?” He asks as he starts cleaning his space.

“Of course, I need to look like art too.” You smile at him but he doesn’t smile back, he rolls his eyes and turns his attention back to the mess of paints and rags on the desk in front of him. He waits until he hears the door open and close behind you to finally let the corners of his mouth turn up. He chuckles to himself quietly while his mind comes up with responses that he’d never dare to utter out loud.

“This one looks like you, rose.” The year old nickname slips off of Hyunjin’s tongue like silk. You’ve never fully understood how the name stuck. You figured that it’s because roses are his favorite flower and he thought it was cute. You’ve never asked for its origin but you don’t mind the name. It’s sweet.

You turn to view the series of pink, white and green dots making up a bouquet of roses on the framed canvas in front of Hyunjin. He studies it with smiling eyes though the neutral look on his face could fool those who haven’t experienced him like you have.

“It’s pretty.” You mumble as you lean your head on his shoulder. You wrap your arm around his and the sleeve of the brown oversized flannel shirt that you picked out a year ago rides up his forearm a bit, he blames the chills running up his spine on the breeze against the newly exposed skin. 

“I knew I’d see you here.” The voice of a woman next to Hyunjin startles you a bit. You stand straight and watch as Hyunjin smiles towards her. He’s cursing her in his head for interrupting the moment between the two of you but he learned a long time ago to just live in the moment when it comes to you.

“Of course, I had to see this exhibition.” He shakes her hand and you chalk it up to her being someone important though she doesn’t look much older than either of you. “You put it together beautifully.”

Ah, she owns the gallery. “Oh, please, it’s nothing. I just hope that you’re enjoying it. I actually thought about you when I put this piece up.” She motions towards the art in front of the two of you. The piece that Hyunjin says resembles you. “It looks like something you’d design. I’m still desperate to organize a local exhibition for you, ya know.”

Hyunjin laughs but it's stiff and polite. He’s being shy. He’s a very cautious person but he reaches a whole new level when it comes to his art. “I’m not quite on that level yet.”

“I disagree but I won’t bother you about it until you graduate. This is your final semester, right?” You can see her eyes smiling just like Hyunjin’s were a second ago as she checks him out. She’s shameless in her actions, the glint in her eyes is far from professional. 

“Yes, just three months to go.” She nods, dragging her gaze up from his lips with a smile. 

“Call me when you graduate, I’d love to have you working with us.” She pulls a business card out of her pocket and flashes one last smile before waving a reluctant goodbye towards your best friend. 

Silence settles between the two of you for just a couple of seconds before you break it. “She wants to fuck you so badly that she didn’t even look at me.” Hyunjin scoffs at your whispered words as he slips the card into his pocket. “Don’t tell me that you didn’t notice. How old is she anyway? She looks a bit young to be in charge of this place.”

“Her father owns it.” He mumbles as he grabs your wrist and leads you over to the next piece of art. 

“Oh, of course. She probably thought I was your girlfriend, ya know. She’s rude as hell for not even asking or looking at me. I know she saw me here, she’s clearly -” You’re pulled into Hyunjin’s side before you can finish your sentence. The sudden action cuts you off with a heavy thump of your heart and that painfully familiar burn rising in your chest. 

“Look at this one.” Your eyes are on him but his are on the art. “This one looks like you too.” You pull your gaze away from him to view the piece. The thumping in your chest doubles once your gaze meets your own. It’s a mirror with pink and white abstract designs floating around and over the glass. The paint is so messy yet strategic. It leaves just enough room for your reflection. 

“It’s messy yet elegant, don’t you think? You can’t help but to stare..” He’s visibly smiling now. The corners of his mouth turn up as he studies the art in front of him. As he studies you. “This one might be my favorite. It’ll be hard to beat it.”

“I don’t like it.” You mutter quickly, pulling away from Hyunjin and turning towards the next piece. You try your best to steady your breathing. You will your heart to calm down so that you can take a complete breath but it’s betraying you. “I’m gonna use the bathroom.” 

You’re walking away before Hyunjin can reply. He watches you with that smile in his eyes as you disappear around the corner. He knew that what he pulled would be a risk but it was one that he was willing to take. He doesn’t call you beautiful nearly as much as he should or as much as he really wants to. 

In the bathroom you’re slumped against the door of a stall while you try to catch your breath. You don’t like how Hyunjin’s words made that white hot burn in your chest kick up. You don’t like the way that his eyes being on you made you feel like you were the only two in the entire gallery. It’s suffocating. 

When you step out of the stall your fingers are busy on your phone screen. You find your friend Isa’s number quickly and take a sigh of relief when she answers on the third ring. You bypass reciprocating her kind greeting and get right to the point. 

“Get-together at yours tomorrow?”

You’re standing in the middle of the Pink and White art exhibition. Other viewers jumble together along the walls of the gallery and crowd the pieces. You can’t see anything but their blurred faces decorating the white walls. There’s a slow yet heavy beating in your ears but you’re comfortable. You’re alone in the middle of it all, watching everyone from a pleasant distance as you turn to study them all as if they’re the art on the walls.

 The beating in your ears skips as you turn and come face to face with Hyunjin. He’s standing in front of you wearing that brown hat that you love and the oversized flannel that he bought just to share with you.

 Suddenly the others in the room are quiet. All eyes are on you but Hyunjin’s gaze is the most piercing. His brown eyes are smiling at you with a softness that makes the flame in your chest burn brighter. 

“Why are you staring at me like that?” You look around at everyone else but they’ve vanished along with the art on the walls. The beating in your ears picks up, it’s deafening but Hyunjin’s voice can be heard loud and clear over the noise.  

“I like staring at you.” He takes a step towards you but you take two back. He frowns and steps forward again. You repeat the process until your back is against the wall. “Why do you do that?” 

“I’m not doing anything.” You swallow hard as you try to push him away but he’s stronger than you. As strong as stone caging you against the stark white wall. “I can’t breathe.” You’re pushing as hard as you can but it’s no use. You’re stuck under him.

“Why do you do this?” He’s still staring down at you, a burning gaze setting your skin ablaze. “Why do you keep running?” The beating in your ears drowns out all sensible thoughts. You can feel your veins swelling with fear and the blinding white burning in your chest puffs up with the crushing pressure of having him so close. Too close. 

“Back up.” You inhale the thick air, feeling dizzy. “Move.”

“Stop running.” You try to inhale but it gets stuck in your throat. You want to scream. You need to escape. You need to get out of here. 

You lift your heavy arm the best you can and pull back enough to punch Hyunjin. You aim for his face but your fist goes through him just as your lungs start to burn, you take one last look at him before the wall behind you gives out and you’re falling backwards. Hyunjin watches you, his eyes are void of that sparkling smile and guilt consumes you right before you hit the ground.

You jump up with a gasp as your eyes frantically search the room around you. Your chest rises and falls heavily and sweat beads at your hairline.

It was a dream. 

Friday is a late day for you with your last class ending at nine in the evening. Hyunjin always waits for you in the abandoned art studio, he waits for two hours just to walk you to your dorm across campus. It’s become a routine for the two of you but you told him not to wait up tonight. He was reluctant at first, he insisted on waiting for you but you were adamant about breaking your routine.

He agreed eventually but you could see the dejection in his eyes as he hugged you goodbye before your last class. He watched you walk away just like he always did but this time his heart was heavy in his chest. Did he do something wrong? 

That question haunted him throughout the day. It was loud in his head as he collected his stuff and made his way to the abandoned studio. It echoed in his ears as he tried to finish the painting of his vibrant rose that he’s added notes of dusty pale pink to. But it was the loudest when Jeongin called him to ask if he was going to the get-together at Minho’s place tonight.

He knows that you and Minho’s girlfriend Isa are close so you have to know about this, hell, you might’ve even helped plan it and you kept it from him. You’re avoiding him.

You skipped your class to head to Minho and Isa’s place. They share a small apartment right off of campus that you often use as an escape. Isa is one of the few friends that you still have from sophomore year since her boyfriend has never once tried to get in your pants. 

You sat on Isa’s bed clutching a bottle of soju that is not at all meant for one person while you laid your head in her lap. You loved being with her because there was never any pressure to fill the silence. She understands you in a way that other people just don’t. Not even Hyunjin. 

“So, he called you pretty?” You’ve been telling her everything from what happened at the art gallery to the nightmare you had last night. “And now you’re avoiding him?”

“I’m not avoiding him.” You take a swig from the glass bottle and gulp hard to rush the alcohol into your system. “I’m just being careful.”

“You’re being careful by avoiding your best friend… because he called you pretty and you had a nightmare about it?” You sit up with a groan, lifting the bottle to your mouth again with a sigh. She’s not getting it. 

“You didn’t see the way he looked at me. You didn’t feel the way he pulled me into him, his arm wrapped around my waist and he just stared at me with that smile in his eyes. You know the one that makes his eyes shine when he sees something pretty? He was looking at me like that and he told me that I looked elegant. Messy but elegant and that he couldn’t help but to stare. There was a softness in his voice, I swear, and he just wouldn’t take his eyes off of me. It’s like he was looking into me instead of at me it was… it was..”

“Sweet?” You tap the bottle in your hands with your nails. 

“Suffocating. It was too much. It made my heart skip and it made me feel hot.” 

“That usually means that you like him, ya know.” She takes the bottle from you, drinking from it a bit herself. “ You know that he’s a romantic and this isn’t the first time you’ve felt like this with him.” She hands the cold glass back to you while you think back to the other times that you’ve felt this. The latest being your birthday three months ago when Hyunjin whisked you away to the next city for a mini getaway. 

You stayed in the same hotel room and on the night of your birthday you had a bit too much to drink. He carried you up to your room since you were too out of it to walk but you weren’t too far gone to forget the way that he handled you with such gentle care.

He brushed your hair out of your face when he laid you on your bed and took your make-up off with such a tender touch that it made you want to kiss him. You almost kissed him. 

“I don’t like him like that.” You shrug and she sighs. 

“Whatever you say, ice queen.” That damned nickname makes you cringe but Minho is bursting through the door before you can rebuttal. 

“Jisung and Bin just got here, come on.” You stare at him with confused eyes and he crosses his arms as he stares back at you. “Well? Get up, you wanted to do this.”

“Do what?” You look over at Isa who’s already getting up from the bed.

“Did you not call her asking for a get-together? People are getting here so come on. I’m not hosting this by myself.” Your heart drops and you stare over at Isa who looks back at you with her own look of confusion until it all sinks in.

 “You meant for it to be just us, didn’t you?”

Hyunjin is a cautious person, anyone who knows him knows that about him. He doesn’t like when things go wrong because of him. It eats him alive until he can fix it and if he can’t he lets the anxiety consume him until a part of him dies with the memory of it all. 

His cautious nature is what prompted him to drive home after he got that call from Jeongin. It brought him right to his bedroom where he dropped his bag by the foot of his bed and laid back against the mattress with a death stare set on the dull ceiling. It stared back at him, reflecting his thoughts back to him for him to analyze. 

His brother left for the get-together as soon as he walked through the door and Hyunjin was tempted to follow him down to Seungmin’s car.

He was tempted to drop his bag and turn on his heels and come straight to you but he knew better. He knew you better than you knew yourself. If he shows up at that get-together you’ll avoid him like the plague. You’ll feel trapped by his presence and any hope that he has of fixing this situation will die right in front of his eyes. 

His cautious nature is what’s keeping him on his bed. It’s what’s grounding him to this spot and sating the burning desire to chase you. The problem is that the fire in his chest is bigger than he can handle. He’s seen how you treat the men you want to avoid on campus, he’s seen you take the long way home just to avoid a conversation and the thought of you doing that to him makes him wilt. He can’t let that happen. 

His feet are carrying him across his room before he can even fully process it. He opens his closet and pulls out the brown flannel along with his brown beanie. They’ve become comfort items for the both of you at this point, especially the flannel. It feels like a thread connecting you to him and him to you. He needs to save that connection.

 He sloppily throws on the items while he checks the clock. He’s nearly two hours late but there’s still time. 

Hyunjin has never gotten a speeding ticket but he was nearly positive that he’d get one tonight. He made it to Minho’s place in record time but he’s panting when he knocks on the door like he’s ran there. His heart is hammering when Isa answers the door and the look on her face when she takes him in only makes his heart beat faster. 

She forces a smile, inviting him in and telling him where everything is but he already knows all of that and she knows that he does. “She doesn’t want to see me does she?” Isa sighs, giving him a look that answers each and every one of his questions all at once. 

“Thanks for letting me in.” He walks past her with a nervous huff, making his way into the small party and searching for you immediately. He finds Changbin and Chan before he can find you and the two quickly drag him into a conversation about gods know what while wedging a glass bottle of mystery liquid into his fist. 

Hyunjin’s eyes wander in an attempt to find you as he ignores his friends' conversation. Luckily it didn’t take long for the sound of your loud laughter to echo through the room. His eyes were on you in an instant once he heard it. You’re right in front of him sitting in the truth or dare circle with a can of something strong in your hand. You’re always the loudest in the room but right now you seem to be the drunkest too, you shouldn’t be playing that game you’ll do something reckless.  

He wants to go over and pull you up, he wants to tell you that you’re going home and that you need to sober up. He wants to get you to talk to him but he ignores everything he wants and watches you instead. He stays cautious and keeps his distance. 

“Y/n, truth or dare.” One of your few girl friends, Harvey asks from across the circle. You answer ‘dare’ with a wide smile, it’s no surprise, you always pick that. The raven haired girl looks over to Mingi for assistance since she’s known for picking terrible dares. After a couple seconds of deliberation the blonde perks up with an idea.

“I dare you to kiss whoever this bottle lands on.” Mingi dares with a nonchalant smile and you shrug, the alcohol in your system is surely boosting your confidence but it’s not like you’ll remember any of this tomorrow so who cares, right?

He spins the bottle in the middle of the circle and everyone watches with quiet anticipation as it lands on the copper haired boy sitting three people away from you. It’s Jeongin. 

He stops in the middle of sipping from his cup and flashes you a small innocent smile but what you return to him is nothing less than a look of raw seduction. You’re on your feet in an instant, making your way over to him with low and hazy eyes. You straddle him swiftly, getting comfortable in his lap like you’ve done this a hundred times. 

“You sure about this, noona?” His hands rest on your thighs, he brushes his thumbs over the bareskin and you can feel a shiver down your spine. It almost reminds you of how Hyunjin touched you on your birthday. 

“Do you not wanna kiss me?” You tease him with a slight slur to your voice. You know he wants to kiss you, everyone does except for Hyunjin, right? 

Just as that thought passes your eyes flicker up and meet those of the very man on your mind. He’s watching you with an angry gaze as he fists the neck of the glass bottle in his hand. Your mouth goes dry as you take him in, when did he get here? You feel stuck staring at him, everything around you is suddenly muted and the people around you disappear. It’s only you and Hyunjin.

Both of your hearts are pounding in your chest. 

Both of you feel like you can’t breathe. 

Both of you are about to do something that you shouldn’t.

“Kiss her already!” Ryujin instigates from across the circle and you snap out of your haze and blink down at Jeongin. You both share a smile, one more genuine than the other, before he’s leaning into you. His lips just barely brush against yours before you’re interrupted.

A firm grip on your shoulder startles you and the man under you. You both look up to meet the eyes of the angry Hyunjin above you.“Get up.” He practically growls with a slight tug on your arm. You stare up at him with glassy eyes though you are feeling a bit more sober now. “Get. Up.” 

You’re being pulled up before you can process it. Your feet fight to keep up with him as you stumble towards the bedroom he’s leading you to. You can feel all eyes on you, you can feel the room getting smaller once he locks the bedroom door behind the two of you and pulls his flannel off to drape over your shoulders, something that he does to comfort you. 

“What the fuck?” That’s all you can manage to get out of your mouth as you stare over at him. He stares back with his arms crossed and his chest rising and falling with what you perceive as anger but he would describe as anxiety. Pure fear. 

“Do you understand what you were about to do?” Hyunjin tries to be mindful of his tone. He tries to limit the waver of his words and calm the frantic thoughts in his head. He’s trying. “Why would you kiss him?”

“I didn’t.” The alcohol in your system takes over again and you thank the ridiculous amount of soju you’ve consumed for coming to the rescue. You tug on the flannel resting over your shoulders, pretending that its warmth would protect you from the buzzing in your head and inevitable burning in your chest.

“You would’ve if I didn’t stop you. What happened to you not being into Jeongin? What happened to you not wanting to hurt him?”

You groan, stomping your foot like a child being scolded by their guardian. Like the little girl who punched the brunette boy in the face for chasing her. “Why don’t you mind your business?”

Hyunjin scoffs, his anxiety grows in his chest and he takes a step back. “You are my business.” 

It’s silent for one, two, three heartbeats before the dizzying emotions burning in your chest fill in the silence for you. “Well maybe I shouldn’t be. You’re way too attached to me.”

Hyunjin feels frozen even though he’s stepping back from you. He’s creating more space between the two of you just like you seem to be doing. What do you mean by that? You’re rambling on before he can ask. “You do all of these things that make me feel like I can’t breathe. You call me pretty and you touch me softly and you hold me close and… and you just make me feel hot. You suffocate me.”

Hyunjin whispers through the bubbles forming in his throat. He’s gentle with the way he speaks, he is a cautious person after all, especially when it comes to his art. “Is this about what I said at the gallery?”

His question goes in one ear and right out the other. Your brain formulates words quicker than you can process them, creating a violent episode of word vomit that threatens to spill over your lips and onto the carpet but you swallow hard and condense it all into one simple yet seering sentence. “You keep making my heart race, it’s not fair. You need to go, just go.”

Hyunjin’s blood runs cold and his temples throb like you’ve hit him. Like you’ve punched him in the face. Anxiety bubbles in his veins and swells behind his eyes. It’s his turn to ramble, the word vomit seems to be contagious. 

“I’m not leaving.” His gaze is frantic, cautious, scared. “I am too attached, you’re right. I have been for a while. I’ve loved you for a while and I tried to hide it but I shouldn’t have to. I shouldn’t be scared that I’ll lose my best friend if I tell her that she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

 “No, you are not confessing to me right now. Don’t you dare do that.” You pace to the left then the right in a hurried attempt to escape his words before they could reach you. He can’t be doing this right now. You needed to get out of here.

“I am. I am confessing to you. I need you to hear me say that I love you because I do and it scares me just as much as it scares you but you are the reason that it’s scaring me. Losing you is the reason that I’m afraid and I need you to tell me that that isn’t going to happen.” His voice is shaky just like your hands. He watches you like a dog being dropped off at the pound as you physically try to escape him. He knew this would happen, this is what he was afraid of. 

“Stop. Just stop it, Hyunjin. You’re doing it again, I can’t breathe when you’re this close to me.” He stares over at you from the other side of the room and you stare back at him. This doesn’t make any sense. He isn’t next to you but you still can’t breathe. It doesn’t make any sense. “I have to go - I have - just… just leave me alone.” You turn towards the bedroom door but he speaks up before you can make your escape. 

“I’m not going to chase you.” Hyunjin is unmoving. His feet are still planted to the floor like a statue as he slips his fists into his pocket. “I don’t want to push you further away but don’t you dare go home and convince yourself that I don’t care just because I let you go.” 

You listen to him over your hammering heart with your back turned to him and your unsteady gaze trained on the worn door knob. “I’m letting you go with the hope that you’ll come back. You know where to find me.” 

Your feet threaten to betray you, they try to turn you around and drive you over to him but your heart is screaming. That white flame is burning in your chest and begging you to run. Run as fast as you can and find safety, but your safety is standing behind you. It’s watching you with teary eyes that are desperate to meet yours. 

A tear slips down your cheek as you grab the doorknob and pull it with a quick twist. You follow your heart and rush out of the room with tears decorating your face and your hand over your mouth. You let the burning win again.

You rush past everyone, Isa tries to stop you and Minho even catches you for a minute but you fight him off of you and make your way to the front door. You don’t get too far before the last layer of your resolve snaps, You turn onto the next dark block and sink to the ground. Sobs rip through you as Hyunjin’s words hang in your head. He loves you. He wants you but you left him. You left everything you’ve ever wanted behind you. 

A heavier sob escapes you as the truth of it all comes crashing down. You love him too, don’t you? You’ve loved him for so long. Since your birthday and beyond that but you’ve been avoiding it. You’ve avoided your feelings just like you have everything else. You’ve punched yourself in the face, you’ve chased yourself into a corner and now you might just lose everything you have left. You might lose your best friend.

The storms over the next two days swirl the skies into mysterious clouds of pink and white as rain soaks the grass the same way that you’ve soaked your pillow for hours. You’ve opted to stay in, avoiding anything or anyone that could remind you of Friday’s catastrophe.

 You’ve debated texting Jeongin and apologizing for what you remember of the situation. You almost called Isa to spill the fears bubbling in your lungs to her so that she could help you sort through them but she can’t. This is up to you. You need to make a choice. Will you run away from the fire or towards it? 

On the other side of campus Hyunjin sits in the abandoned studio with paint stained hands and dried tears on his cheeks. He’s left his previous painting incomplete. The bright blushing rose sits across the room with the others just like it while he touches his brush to the canvas and smears a smoky mauve to the pristine white flesh. His lines are messy and uncalculated. Far from cautious. 

For a moment he considers that he was only ever careful because of you. Your lack of control over your emotions inspired him to fill in the blanks for you. Now there’s no need for caution without you.

The rain carried into Monday along with the emptiness in your chest. You’ve typed and deleted paragraphs to Hyunjin who has done the same as he sat on the studio floor.

He stayed in the dusty room until midnight each day that he was without you and you stayed up well past then. He poured himself into painting and you poured yourself onto the carpet of your dorm room. You made lists and mapped your emotions until it all started to make a bit more sense. Until the love that burned alongside your hot white fear was glowing pink in the mirror. 

You skipped your classes on Monday, your feet drove you over to the dead side of campus through the violent rain. You stood in the hallway outside of Hyunjin’s studio. The worn copper doorknob stared back at you like it knew what you were here to do. Like it was daring you to go inside. You suck in a breath as you grab the metal, you’ve never been one to back down from a dare.

The studio is empty when you walk inside. The fading warm light of the lamps that you and Hyunjin bought and snuck in illuminate the space the best that they can given the dull pink skies. Your eyes catch on the new piece sitting up on his easel. It’s dark and runny, it’s raw and it feels like it’s calling your name. 

“Hi.” Hyunjin’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. His voice is small and surprised as he stares over at your frame clad in that famous brown flannel and sweatpants. 

“Hi.” You whisper back. He looks like a mess. Brown hat, pulled too far over his head and his hair spilling from every exit it can find. “More roses?” 

He stares passed you and over at the wilting petals on the canvas with a sad smile. “It’s like I’m in love or something.” 

Your guilt tinged heart beats a bit faster when he steps further into the room and closes the door behind him. He drops his bag next to the door and stares at the dinghy tile with his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry. For everything, for the party and everything with your brother and for everything that I said.” 

The word vomit is back. It spilled over your lips before you could attempt to swallow it back but you’re almost thankful for it. You have no clue how you’d get your words out otherwise. “You just made me feel… I just felt..” You kick at the cracked tile as if it holds the answers you’re looking for but Hyunjin beats you to it.

“Suffocated.” His eyes are on you now, they’re low and shadowed in a longing sadness. “I’ve seen this happen a million times to other guys and I thought that I was being careful enough to avoid it.” 

“This is nothing like the other guys.” Your bag slumps off of your shoulder and you carelessly allow it to hit the floor. “Your confession just -” He cuts you off with a tight smile.

 “I know. It ruined everything.” He sighs, sad eyes examining the space between the two of you. “I ruined everything and I’m sorry for that, rose. I really am.”

“It didn't. It didn’t ruin anything, it just scared me. I felt suffocated, yes, but not by you. It was by what I felt for you. That’s why this isn’t like what happened with any of the other guys. I never wanted them. Avoiding them was easy but you… avoiding you..” Hyunjin watches your heaving chest with the caution that he thought had abandoned him. He’s quiet, allowing you time to gather your thoughts. He doesn’t want to corner you, he just wants to hear you. 

“Why do you call me that?” You whisper once your breathing has steadied. “Why did you start calling me rose?”

Suddenly he’s looking past you then down at the tile under his feet. He leans against the door behind him, a faint smile decorating his sad face. “You were wearing one in your hair on the day that I realized I love you.” He looks over to where his easel is set up. “We were sitting right there and you had a pale pink rose behind your left ear. You picked me one to match and I told you that it was my favorite flower because in that moment it was. It was beautiful but you…your beauty is hard to beat.”

Your heart is thumping in your ears, it’s a sound that you’ve grown comfortable with over the past few days. The clutter of the abandoned room almost seems to disappear as you process his words. The burning in your chest makes itself known along with the newly identified pink flame. The white walls of the studio almost seem brighter as you receive Hyunjin’s confession. You let it sink in and drown out the tension little by little. “So when you paint them…”

“I’m painting you. I’m always painting you.” The thumping is deafening but Hyunjin is clear over the noise. He has always been the only one who can cut through it all, even in your dreams. 

You can feel yourself falling just like in your nightmare only it’s forwards. You’re falling forwards as your feet carry you to him. You run. You run to him and you fall into his arms that have been desperate to catch you for months. The burn in your chest is paralyzing, it’s seering and fighting the pink flame for dominance. 

You cry into his chest, you sob as the pain of running into the fire engulfs you. It swallows you whole and you stand in it with him, you cling to him before you burn to ash and he holds you like he knows it all. He cradles the back of your head like he can feel the fire ripping your flesh apart. 

You’re flush against him, tears soaking his shoulder and burning all over until he does what no one has done before. He puts it all out. A simple kiss to the top of your head dowses the flame and reduces it to a measly spark of fear overshadowed by an uncontainable pink and white glow of love in your chest. 

You gasp at the cooling effect. Air rushes into your lungs and you can finally breathe, he’s the oxygen you needed. He’s everything you’ve needed but now you want to give your air away again. You want to give it all to him. 

You pull away from his shoulder in one swift motion, your eyes are shut tight as your lips find his and you pull him into a hard and messy kiss. The sound that escapes you both is desperate and beautiful. His lips move with yours in an uncoordinated rhythm that makes your lungs burn comfortably. They burn the way that they’re supposed to. 

Hyunjin cries into the kiss. Tears stream down his cheeks as he cradles you against him like you’d vanish if he didn’t. He drinks it all in, he allows himself to live in this moment that he’s been dying to have with you for what feels like an eternity before he reluctantly breaks the kiss. 

His eyes are still closed when he pulls away. He whispers to you, careful not to crack the shell of this delicate moment. “I thought you -” 

“I don’t want to keep running. I can’t, I need you. I can’t lose you.” Your eyes flutter open at the same time as his. He stares down at you with that smile in his eyes. That smile he has when he sees something beautiful, when he’s utterly enamored by the sight before him. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know how to do any of this, I only know that I want to do it with you.”

He’s quiet for a couple of seconds before a smile sneaks up on him. It fades just as quickly as it came and his eyebrows pinch together. “You want me?” You nod and the smile shows itself again. 

“I want you.” He leans back in, cupping your cheek as he kisses you hard. His body pushes against yours and you move with him as he walks backwards towards one of the few empty desks and lifts you onto it. 

His hands explore every inch of you that he can reach. He balls his fist over the baggy flannel hiding your body from him while your fingers tangle in his hair and scratch over his shoulders and up his arms.

 He breaks the kiss to run his lips over the flushed flesh of your neck, he whispers into your skin between each kiss “Tell me to stop.” He pulls at the collar of the flannel to kiss the curve of your neck. “I’ve waited so long for this, please tell me to stop. Tell me to wait.”

You push his head further into the crook of your neck as you tilt your head further to give him better access. “I don’t want you to.” He sucks a mark into the skin right below your ear and you pull his tucked in shirt from his pants with an elated moan. 

His clumsy fingers fight to unbutton the oversized flannel as yours attempt to unbutton his jeans. You reach your goal before he does and waste no time capitalizing on your victory. You dip your hand in just enough to fish his growing erection from his briefs and wrap your hand around it. 

Hyunjin moans at the stimulation, leaning his forehead against yours and squeezing his eyes shut as you stroke him slowly. “Fuck, please don’t, I wont - I can’t last.”

 You kiss his temple softly, whispering reassurance that you don’t care to have him last, you just want to have him. Once he’s centered himself again he continues his struggle to expose your body to him. The final button falls open like the curtain to a play and he stares down your scantily clad torso like an audience in awe. 

His hand moves on its own as he admires you. It dips into the waistband of your sweatpants and swipes over your clothed clit.

 Your head falls forward to rest on his shoulder with a quiet moan as he groans into the air. Your grip on his cock tightens a bit in response to the sensation and he hisses. “Please tell me I can feel you. Is it okay? Can I?” 

He doesn't want your first time to be here but he wants you. He needs you. 

Hyunjin hooks a finger into the damp gusset of your panties and pulls it to the side just enough to slip a finger into your waiting cunt. You pant in his ear, wanton moans bubble over the brim of your lips as his free hand cradles the side of your neck. “Look at me, please look at me, baby.”

 He runs his thumb over your cheek, brushing over the path of your dried tears. “So pretty, this must be a dream.” You shake your head. Speaking between moans. “Not a dream, baby.”

 He slips in another finger as you circle your palm over the head of his cock and you both moan. “Please tell me I can.” He leans his forehead against yours, his desperate eyes reflect the look in your own.

“You can. Please, I want you to.” 

“Have you ever thought about it?” He’s asking before he can process it and you’re shaking your head before he can even finish his sentence. A shy glaze washes over your desperate gaze as you watch him undress you.

 “You’re all I ever think about.” He whispers as he hooks his thumbs into the band of your pants. “You’re all I’ve wanted for the past year.” 

“I’ve loved you since my birthday.” You blurt out, vulnerable eyes peering into his. “Maybe even before that.” He runs a finger over your clothed cunt and you shudder under the touch.

“I wanted to kiss you the night of your birthday. You looked so beautiful but you were wasted. You wouldn’t have remembered. I just stared at you, I took your make-up off and I brushed the hair from your face and you stared back at me. I was just dying to kiss you. I was dying to confess.” Your hand runs slowly up his shaft and he swears that he feels electric. 

“I wanted to kiss you too.” He’s quiet, staring back at you with a smile. “That’s why I was staring”

“I kissed your forehead when you fell asleep.”  He pulls your panties down your legs, allowing them to pool at his feet with your sweatpants. “I knelt by your bed and whispered my confession to you.” 

His fingers are filling you again and you gasp while staring into his eyes. “I wanna hear it.” You whisper through a moan.

 “You want to hear my confession?” You nod, your gently fucked out gaze stares into his like your hypnotized by the moment. He scissors his finger into you, stretching you out just a bit before you’re gasping from the stretch of him replacing his fingers with his length. 

“Fuck, you’re inside of me.” Hyunjin stills with a groan. His forehead rests on your shoulder while he silently begs himself not to come undone just yet. He sucks in a breath before he recites all that he can remember. 

“You’re everything that I thought it would be to fall in love.” He whispers as he pulls back, thrusting into you slowly. “You really snuck up on me, I don’t know what I expected though.” He lifts his head to look at you as he sinks back into you. “You became my world so quickly. So effortlessly.”

 You cup his face with both of your hands as you bite back your moans. You want to hear him loud and clear. You want to remember every word. “I should’ve known that I’d fall in love when I first met you.” He picks up the pace, falling into a messy rhythm that’s accompanied by a fit of moans and grunts. 

He struggles to keep his eyes on you. They flutter shut with each thrust as he feels himself float closer and closer to his climax. “Baby, I won’t last.” You wrap your arms around his neck and one of his wraps around your waist while the other rests on your thigh before creeping over to softly pinch and rub your clit. 

“Hyune, you’re gonna make me - gonna -” He cuts you off with a sloppy kiss, his tongue brushes over your parted lips to request access before making room for itself against yours.

“If you tell me that you’re gonna cum I won’t last another second.” He whispers against your lips and you moan against his.

“What if I tell you that I love you.” Hyunjin’s eyebrows pinch at the confession. That’s way worse than telling him that you’re close. “I’ve loved you back for as long as - as long as you’ve loved me.”

“Rose, baby, you’re gonna -” It’s your turn to kiss him now, it’s a mess of teeth and tongue but you love it. You love him and him you.

 You both pull away in tandem, twin moans ripping through your chests as you both announce yourself to the other. 

“I’m cumming, I’m cumming.” Hyunjin pulls out of you, painting your thighs in his sticky white release while his fingers toy with your clit to ride you through your orgasm. It’s loud and messy and beautiful. A romantic elegance that you want to live in for as long as it’s available. 

Once you’ve both come down from your high Hyunjin kisses your sweaty forehead and you kiss his. He pulls his bottoms up before grabbing the cleanest paint rag he has to clean you up. A comfortable silence settles around you as you ground yourself and take in the space.

“You didn’t finish that one.”

He follows your gaze over to the painting of the pale pink rose. The middle of the canvas contrasts the rest with nothing but dull line art to show the completed picture. It looks like a work in progress. “I know, but I think I like it like that.” He looks back over at you and you at him.

“It looks like you."

It’s been seven months. Graduation has come and gone in the middle of your blooming relationship with Hyunjin and you’ve dedicated each and every second of your budding love to taming the flame. 

Each kiss from him has kept the spark of fear at bay and each touch has taught you how to stop running. It’s been a slow and cautious process that he is more than proud to be a part of. He takes pride in it. He takes pride in being with you.

The smooth breeze of late summer brushes against your skin as you step out of your car. The white dress that Hyunjin picked out for you sticks to you like paint on a canvas as you make your way up to the art gallery. 

It’s buzzing inside, people stand and stare in awe at each piece while whispering and pointing to their favorite details. You stop and stand in the middle of it all, taking it all in with a slow spin on the balls of your feet. You take in every corner until you turn around completely and you’re met with the face of the artist himself. 

“Hi.” Hyunjin smiles down at you, brown baggy flannel hanging from his shoulders. 

“Hi.” You stare back at him with a gleaming smile in your eyes. You take in every inch of him, scanning him like he should be framed and hanging on the walls around you. 

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Hyunjin wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “I like staring at you.” Your response makes him beam a shy smile. 

“You should be staring at the art. The artist might get sad if you don’t.” He kisses your forehead before letting you go. Some people around you stare over at the two of you with curious eyes. They’re eager to put a face to the muse of the showing artist. 

You take his hand and lead him over to the piece that a couple is walking away from. You stand in front of it hand in hand as you study it for what feels like the millionth time. “This one is my favorite.” The incomplete pale pink rose stares back at you.

“And why is that?” Hyunjin has that smile in his eyes as he stares up with you. The memory of this piece's origin plays behind his eyes like a memorized movie. 

“I’ve been told that it looks like me.” You lay your head on his shoulder and wrap your arm around his. A chill runs up his spine and he blames it on you. You and the love he feels glowing pink and white around you. 

“There you are.” History repeats itself as the lady that you’ve come to know as Dalia interrupts the two of you. “I wanted to check in with you, how does it feel to finally have your own exhibition?” 

Hyunjin smiles at her politely, turning towards her a bit with his fingers still threaded through yours. “It’s amazing. Thank you, you’ve done a wonderful job putting this together.” 

“Oh, please, it’s nothing. This is all you.” You watch her as her eyes smile just as they always have. Her hand brushes over his arm in a carefully calculated move. She’s still shameless and unprofessional. “This piece is my favorite. The unfinished look is unique and raw. What inspired this one?” 

You grin to yourself as you listen to her. She’s trying so hard that it’s difficult not to laugh. 

“Actually.” Hyunjin pulls your hand a bit, leading you forward so that you’re right next to him. It’s impossible for Dalia to ignore you now. Her eyes scan you reluctantly and the smile on her face falters for a second before she pulls it together. Gosh, that's gratifying. 

“My lovely rose here is the inspiration for it all.” Hyunjin looks over at you with a glow that is unmatched even by the largest of flames. “None of this would be possible without her.” 

It’s like Dalia disappears once Hyunjin looks over at you. You’re the only two in the room as far as you’re concerned. “Oh, well that’s just - that’s wonderful.” Her staggered speech pulls you both out of your loving haze. 

“Such a … sweet profession of love.” She glares over at you though you’re sure that in her head she’s doing a wonderful job at hiding her contempt. “I should make sure that everything is running smoothly. Please excuse me.” 

She clears her throat awkwardly before she departs, you and Hyunjin both bid her smiling farewells before turning to each other with wide smiles. “Show off.” You push his shoulder playfully and he laughs.

“I didn’t do anything.” You roll your eyes as you both wander over to the next piece on the wall. You stare up at the two pink roses in a lone vase, a shadow of sunlight casts down on them both as they rise towards its shining glow. 

A comfortable silence blankets the two of you while you listen to the soft buzz of the people around you. You squeeze his hand softly and he squeezes back just as you open your mouth to speak. 

“She still wants to fuck you.” He smiles 

“Shut up.”

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[foreingersgod]

Softcore . CH

paring: caroline harvey x reader

synopsis: is this love really worth saving? or has it already run its course?

wc: 3.8k

A/N: this came out a lot like "champagne coast" that i wrote for caitlin clark, so if you like fics like this, you should go check that one out as well :)

this one is dedicated to @wnba123! sorry it took so long for me to get to your request queen; hope you like it!

WARNING!!! this fic is angst to comfort/smut!!! this piece will be completely SFW up UNTIL THE DIVIDER. if you do not wish to engage with the smut portion or are a man or a minor. please heed this warning and do not read past the warning line. thank you!

it's exhausting. exhausting to mourn someone who's still alive. who sleeps next to you nearly every night, shares your home, your heart, your soul.

but it feels like she's already left you, at least, in all the ways that matter. her laugh no longer lights the room, her eyes drifting away from yours-off to some reality you can't reach. you talk, but it's nothing more than an empty echo down a hallway. you kiss her, but her lips are cold and rough, like pressing your lips to a memory. you hold her, but you almost feel fuller when you're alone.

you never thought that this is where you'd stand, in a love that's fighting to stay alive. at least not with caroline. but you can feel it, the ember that's begging to be fed, it's there.

you probably should've seen it coming, and you battled yourself every day for it. that you were a fool, and you've been playing that role for much longer than you had realized. letting this sense of unfamiliarity unravel until it pushed both of you to your limits. because how are you supposed to bury a love that's still breathing?

but maybe it wouldn't be hurting this much if it hadn't once been so beautiful.

you met when you were both sixteen-awkward and loud and painfully alive with so much to give. she'd write you love letters, shove them into the crack of your locker. you'd wear her favorite hockey sweatshirt for 2 years straight, well-loved with the scent of her lingering on it even after washing it. you'd sit with each other under the bleachers, the world around you ready to prepare you for it all to end. but you never grew out of it, rather you grew up into it.

college, jobs, your first apartments. then eventually your first apartment together. promise rings that didn't feel rushed-it felt inevitable.

but somewhere between the 9 a.m. meetings and the late-night grocery runs. between the laundry piles and forgotten kisses, something slipped. she'd come home tired, sweaty and frustrated with dreams so big they'd weigh her down. and you'd stay quiet, elbow deep in dirty dishes with a shoulder ready to cry on.

you'd shamefully scroll on your phone during dinner-if you even bothered to sit together anymore-because it was far easier than trying to make mindless small talk. with every 'how was your day', there was a 'fine' and it hurt. you'd sleep facing away. not in anger, just habit. and she'd do the same. every so often a hand would brush against your thigh, a faint apology whispered in your ear when she came home exasperated once again.

but you still love her. always have and always will. you loved her so much that your devotion was merely intensified by her absence. though it's so quiet now-how this love has turned out to be.

she'd used to hold your hand in the car, caress her thumb over yours at painfully long red lights. now her hands stay glued to the steering wheel. she used to trace the letters of your initials on your bare back before bed because she knew the feeling soothed you, now you run your own fingers up and down the length of your arm instead.

you catch yourself staring at her sometimes. just searching. trying to find the young girl you fell in love with all those years ago. the girl you kissed on the football field after sneaking out of junior prom, the girl who ditched class just so she could have lunch with you every day. the girl who once said "i want every version of you, even the ones you don't like".

and maybe she was in there still, rather you knew she was. but is she too far gone to save at this point? because it's easier to pretend nothing's wrong than to admit that it's broken, even if you both know it.

you weren't even trying to start something that night. it was late, a long a grueling thursday. one of those nights where the silence is louder than the TV, the traffic outside your apartment blaring louder than usual. you were folding laundry on the couch, a hamper between your legs as you tossed t-shirt after t-shirt into a stack next to you.

you had been particularly sad that day, waking up without your girlfriend next to you. early practices again, it had seemed. she didn't even bother to tell you. suddenly in that moment, it all came crashing down on you. the weight of the uncertainty ahead of you gripping at your heart. it must've been hours that you cried that morning, uncontrollable and inconsolable. you couldn't stand it anymore.

she had walked into the apartment quietly at around 10 p.m., barely acknowledging your presence on the couch as she locked the door behind her. you could already tell from the way her shoulders slumped and the way her eyes glistened in the lamp light, that she was starting to feel the weight of all this too. or maybe it was just the way she never looked at you anymore-not really.

few words were exchanged as she slipped off her shoes, letting her bag fall to the ground. you offered her a sweet smile as you reminded her that dinner was in the fridge for her. surprisingly, she smiled back and retreated to the kitchen to eat for probably the first time that day. you could see her, from the opening between the living room and the kitchen, that she was picking at her meal, head down and phone in her hands.

you weren't sure what summoned the courage in that moment. could've been fear, could've been exhaustion. but you remember opening your mouth just so slightly, muttering out the vaguest of words.

"we don't talk anymore"

there was a pause, the clanking of silverware on porcelain, the impact of her phone on the countertop. every noise just a little too crisp for your liking.

then, finally looking at you in the eyes for the first time all night, she spoke. "we're talking now"

that did it. flipped the switch in you for good, all the feelings from that morning bubbling up past your throat.

you let out a dry laugh as you dropped the hoodie you had just folded on the coffee table in front of you. back extending from the irritation curling in your spine, you leaned back on the couch with a furrowed look on your face.

"you think this counts? this isn't talking" you huffed, trying not to escalate a situation that hadn't fully begun "this is coexisting, this is pretending"

she stood, with the same composure she held when she arrived home, as she propped herself against the edge of the kitchen island. her arms were crossed, face unreadable, shoulders rolled back.

"what do you want me to say?"

"i want you to say something," you snapped "anything real, truthfully. i want you. i want you to stop looking through me like i'm a ghost"

her voice was tight, and you could see her jaw clench as she bit down harshly on the inside of her cheek "i'm doing my best okay? i-i go to practice, i'm going to classes, and then i'm here. i'm home with you, i'm showing up-"

"no you're not!" you cut in with a raise in your voice, throwing up your arms in disbelief. did she really think that? that she was here, like she had always been and nothing had changed? "you're physically here, yeah, but everything else? your heart, your head? you left months ago and you didn't even tell me"

silence. your voice cracked, a sob pushing at the back of your ribs, spilling past your chapped lips. you breathed deeply as you fought back the tears.

"maybe," she said, softly, arms uncrossing as she ran her hands down her face in defeat "i didn't want to admit it. that something was off, that i was off"

you blinked, tears welling at your lash line, frozen in place "what does that mean?"

you studied her expression, her body language. she looked beat, bags like tattoos underneath her eyes, hair unkempt and disheveled. it wasn't just an end-of-day look of weariness. it was like her soul was slowly shattering.

"i think we're too young" she choked up, regret laced in her tone "i-i think we got caught up in forever you know? before we even figured out who we were. we went from prom to rent, from curfews to car payments. and i don't know-i'm tired"

"tired of what?" you trembled "of me?"

"no. don't twist this. i'm tired of whatever this has been, we both know that. we jumped into life like we had it all figured out at sixteen"

that was it. too young. too soon.

you had danced around that significant detail forever. both of you too afraid to say it out loud, to risk losing what had become your normal, not wanting to lose everything you had built.

"so what, you-" you cleared your throat, finally letting a single tear spill "you think this was a mistake?"

"i think we didn't know what we were giving up," she shook her head, coming over to sit on the couch next to you, the cushion dipping under her weight "i never got to find out who i was without you-and that's not fair to you either"

you felt like your world just came crumbling down, her words like a plague. years of love and passion, absolutely destroyed. how could this be true, how could she possibly believe all this? this may have been what you feared all along; you were the fool who only held her back.

"then go" you said through gritted teeth, shutting your eyes like this would all go away if you wished hard enough "if you want the space-to find yourself or whatever, then go. i'm not going to hold you here"

"that's not what i'm saying" she said desperately. then you felt the pressure, her hand on your upper thigh, giving you a gentle squeeze. igniting that sense of comfort you knew you once had.

"then what are you saying exactly?"

she didn't answer right away. she just looked at you, like she was seeing you for the first time in a long time. caroline watched as you unraveled in front of her, bursting into dreadful tears and worried hiccups. she saw the way you brought a hand up to support your forehead, like the pressure of it all had knocked the wind out of you.

"babe," she said through the tension "i miss you, i miss us. i miss the way we used to look at each other like this was all worth something in the end. now i just feel like this weight dragging you down. i'm so busy with this idea of success, to be the best girlfriend, the best teammate and player...i don't know. i miss not being like this"

you felt your breath catch on what felt like nothing. but you noticed it, the slight shift in the room. nothing was fixed, nothing was healed, but maybe there was a lick of hope that teetered between you. with glossy eyes, you looked over at her and sighed.

"i still see her, you know?" you briefly smiled "that dorky teenage girl who would throw rocks at my bedroom window just so she could say goodnight. that treated me like her entire world even if it may have been too soon, the one who promised she'd never stop loving me. i still see her"

it was her turn to return your smile, her genuine laugh cascading through the room "i think i may have lost her through all the bills and late nights. probably when we stopped kissing each other goodnight"

you swallowed with an ache of motivation in your chest, biting at your lips. her expression mirrored yours, just two lost hearts searching for the right answer. though part of you wished you could pause the moment, scared for what was about to come next. you'd hoped you could soak this in for just another minute, truly memorize the remorse written all over your girlfriend's face.

"i think," you said gently "if we try-really try-we can find her again. same for me, i'm not innocent in any of this. but babe, i-i don't want to lose you. i want to be us again"

she leaned in close to you, hand still resting on your leg, barely an inch between you two. you could feel her breath against your cheek as you leaned back, lips ghosting over hers.

"even if they've changed?" she whispered.

"especially if they have" you said "we're a little lost but...i think we've found the map"

she reached for your hand first-tentative, like it was fragile. then, without a second thought, you placed your hand against her freckled cheek and brought her in closer to you.

finally, after all the silence, she closed the gap between you with a kiss. it wasn't rushed, nor was it cinematic. but it was slow and sweet, careful and desperate. it felt like you had been underwater after all this time, and you were finally getting the chance to breathe again.

it was the kind of kiss that didn't erase the pain but promised to stay through it.

"i don't want to go," she said as she pulled away, resting her forehead on yours "what you said before. i don't want to go be someone else, i wanna stay right here"

it was like she was surrendering. putting her heart on her sleeve to show you this was worth it to her. sure, you may have been young, but you certainly didn't fall out of love. this was your girl, your everything, your absolute soulmate. neither one of you intended to let go anytime soon, even if all you had were promises.

"then don't" you panted, passion taking over your body. you trailed your hands down to her chest, fingers clenching onto the fabric like you might lose her as you pulled her against your lips once more. this time, this kiss had been hungry and pure.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

she groaned quietly into mouth at your sudden sense of boldness. her fingers reached for your hair, tangling in your soft locks. she was grasping onto you with the same urgency. there was no letting go. not after this.

your hands were firm against her torso, fingertips roaming the cotton of her top like you'd never touched such a material. you were drawing her in like gravity had finally kicked in, like your bodies were catching up to what your minds already knew-you weren't done with her yet. you were far from it, in fact. the heat between you was electric, but it wasn't just lust. it was years. it was history and heartache, a collection of the love you and caroline had reveled in since you were in high school.

"are you sure?" she asked, forcing you to look at her. she didn't need to say anything else, the fire building between you made it clear what she was talking about. you nodded, your fingers tracing her cupids bow delicately. even after all this distance, she still wanted to make sure you were comfortable.

her lips moved with purpose, with need, like she was pouring all her apologies and promises into every second. It was a kiss that said don’t ever doubt me again, a kiss that said I’m still here. You responded with the same vulnerability, parting her lips with yours, your hand rising to cradle the back of her neck, keeping her close, grounded.

her hands snaked below the hem of your shirt and spread across your chest, palming your breasts just enough to make you gasp. you hadn't felt her touch you like this in so long-like she actually wanted you, still after all these years. nothing forced, just an incessant need to have you.

and god, you needed to have her too.

"i can't tell you how much i missed this" she muttered against your jaw as you kissed down her neck, tasting the saltiness of her post-practice skin. but oddly it was sweet, something far more intimate than just sex "let me take you to bed?"

with a satisfied hum, you let her assist you off the couch. her hands were still on your waist, lips still grazing that one spot that made you weak. it was a chaotic walk to the bedroom, a mess of exasperated giggles and discarded clothes until the back of your knees met with the edge of your bed.

"please," caroline spoke again threw the heated kisses. you could feel her shudder against you, her skin forming small bumps underneath your fingertips. she reluctantly forced her lips off of yours as she laid you down against the linen sheets, climbing ever so carefully to hover over you "please"

you chuckled, feeling her maneuver down your body, resting her head against your chest. but your laughter soon stopped when you felt wetness fall onto your abdomen.

was she crying?

"baby," you cooed, taking a hold of her chin to motion her to look up at you "please what? what's wrong?"

she glanced up at you with panic in her eyes. tears fell down her flushed cheeks gingerly as she sniffled. you waited patiently for her to answer as you ran your hand along her shoulder to settle her. you couldn't quite explain the look on her face-the way her body felt completely bare against you-but it was the most painful yet calming thing you had ever seen. she looked so unguarded in front of you, ready to lay everything out for you to take. but she had seemed firm, ready to tackle the growth that this relationship desperately needed.

"let me stay," her voice quivered as more tears fell "i'm so sorry. for everything. i don't want to find myself if it means losing you-so please just...let me stay"

"caroline" your heart broke just hearing that sentence, twinging at the thought of her thinking you actually wanted her gone "you're home, you're my home. i don't think i'd survive if you left"

a hard puff billowed from her throat in relief "i'm gonna be better i swear"

"i know," you smiled "we both will"

and then the world around you melted, it was just the two of you in the confinements of your bedroom. caroline didn't waste another second to get her hands on you again, and you weren't complaining. you'd waited forever to feel like this again.

her lips moved towards your navel as she traveled lower and lower down your figure, cherishing every inch of you. you let out a content sigh, eyes fluttering shut as you let your bodies do all the talking. you feared you'd both be crying if you said much else.

the chill air made you shiver, but caroline was quick to warm you as she breathed against your core. you felt needy and hot, almost impatient as she took her time admiring you. reminiscing on these moments where you were splayed out just for her. but you were growing weary the more dottled.

"don't tease" you whined into vacancy.

"m'not" she grinned "i'll give you want you need baby, don't worry. let me take care of you"

always one to give, always one to please. and you loved it. her palms planted against the plushness of your thighs, spreading you even more open than you already were. kisses trailed from the inside of your legs then finally to where you needed her most-whining when she placed a delicate kiss to your needy pussy.

"fuck," you said, one hand instinctively coming up to grasp at your tits, the other flying to the back of her head to keep her in place.

she moaned into you, loving the pressure as she quickened her pace. her tongue glided across your pussy, flattening out to lick a long and slow stripe. you bit at your lip to try and submerse your whimpers, hearing her hum slightly as she flicked her tongue over your clit relentlessly, only making you grasp at her hair tighter.

that did nothing but motivate her, giving her the reassurance she'd been craving since she got you naked. her tongue continued its assault against you despite your quiet pleas and restless movements, her eyes looking up at you like you were sent from the gods themselves.

"fuck, i love you so much" she said, temporarily releasing your clit from between her lips "you have no idea"

your brows raised in anticipation as you felt the pressure build up in your lower stomach, watching her in awe when she buried her face back in between your thighs. your legs began to tremble and your knuckles grew white the closer you got to release.

"i love you too," you blabbered "i love you i love i love you, shit, i'm so close"

"taste so good," she responded, the strokes of her tongue getting sloppier by the second, enticing a short cry out of you.

you jerked forward, back arching off the mattress when you felt her speed up. the wetness that accumulated from your cunt, mixed with that of her mouth was just enough to send you over the edge. she could sense that you were close, letting her tongue prod at your entrance to move in and out of you-exactly what she knew you liked. she remained steady with you, watching you closely as you fucked yourself on her mouth.

"that's it, that's it" you cried, letting your hips buck against her face. your body spasmed as your orgasm began to take over, eyes rolling back from the sensation "fuck i'm gonna come, oh my god"

"there you go, baby" she mumbled into your pussy, absolutely lost in the feeling of you coming undone on her mouth "come for me, i got you"

you let out one last long moan as you relished your high, chest rising and falling to catch your breath. caroline was quick to remove herself from her position, only to hover over you once more for a kiss. your heart was pounding, brain fuzzy and body still twitching.

"you okay?" her voice muffled through the kiss. you nodded, smirking as you felt your taste still on her tongue.

"more than okay," you said. she smiled back before laying down beside you, brushing your messy hair from your face in the process. you allowed yourself to completely envelop yourself around her, limbs tangling with hers loosely.

after a few minutes of silence-your skin on hers, hearts beating in unison, touches wandering-she found the will the speak.

"we're gonna be okay, right?" she said. you breathed, silencing her worry as you rubbed circles with your thumb against her cheekbone.

"yeah, baby" you beamed "we always are"

[betterthanyalls]

Hey! I liked your Epic x reader! The one where Zeus kiddnaped Y/N and Athena fought for them and Odysseus!

Can I request a Epic!Hera x Reader

Even tho the gods couldn’t do anything to help, I can still feel like Hera had a liking to reader, they weren’t like the other ‘scamps’ that Zeus seduced.

I feel like Hera would comfort Reader and became their friend during the Seven years they were held captive.

Platonic or Romantic- your pick :D

AAAAAAAAAAAA HI HI HI HI IM SO SORRY WITH THE LATENESS BUT I LOVED THIS also im sorry for how short this was :sobs: it was meant to be like an interlude/minor pt 2 ANYWAYS THANK YOU SM I LOVE YOU THIS IS A GREAT ASK

Part 1

Masterlist

Stolen Soldier PT2

Hera [p] x Reader

EPIC: The Musical ~ Oneshot ~ Comfort/Angst

Words: 503

Published: 12/10/2024

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the corner of a dark, unlit room, whimpering sobs were being produced. A young mortal cowered in fear, shaking uncontrollably while trying to bite back their anguish. 

The door slowly opened to the dark room, providing a haunting light to cascade over the entire area. Y/n choked out a terrified cry, coiling herself further into the corner to try and remain as small as possible.

Instead of the king god she expected, Hera walked in slowly, gently shutting the door behind herself. The queen held her hands up as if to show she had no weapon and walked towards Y/n as if the mortal was a wild animal. She may as well have been a rabid creature with how little of humanity she had left.

“I won’t hurt you, my darling." The queen comforted softly, crouching down in front of Y/n.

Y/n bit back another sob, watching the goddess’ hands and movement like life or death. She wanted to push Hera away to fight back, to try and keep any safety she could find. Y/n knew the stories of Hera, yet that wasn’t the only thing making her keep distance. How could Y/n ever trust a pair of hands again, divine hands at that? “My husband is still with the other gods in his meeting; he won’t be back for a while. I know it’s not your fault for being here," the goddess of marriage explained soothingly. “I do not wish to hurt you.”

“Why-” Her sentence was cut off as another cry escaped her throat. Tears fell like a broken fountain down her cheeks. “Why are you here?” The mortal managed to question, her voice hiccuping. 

“I am the goddess of women; of course I know the pains you bear."

Something in the goddess’ tone made Y/n feel a little better, comforting her. Hera opened her arms, offering an embrace of heavenly love. Y/n hesitated, unsure whether she could trust the touch of another. But the queen’s gaze was so calm and loving, it was impossible not to be drawn in.

Warily, the young woman crawled over, at once being encircled by holy hands. The true love and safety overwhelmed Y/n. It had been so long since the hands who touched her weren’t filled with uncaring lust. 

Hera rubbed gentle circles on the woman’s back, ignoring her newly wet shoulder. Y/n tried not to cry loudly, but it was getting increasingly difficult. The two ladies sat on the marble flooring of a cluttered room. 

The tune of an ancient hymn explored the room quietly, as if searching for someone to hold warmly. Cascading upon the mortal’s ears, the beautiful rhythm began to enclose her mind, providing the exhaustion she oh-so craved. 

Gradually, Y/n shut her eyes and sighed softly, her sobs quieting to soft sniffles. Bit by bit, her tired mind began to falter, providing the lulling space she desired so much.  “Sleep well, my little bird. You’re safe here.”

[merakiui]

タコの花嫁。

yandere!azul ashengrotto x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, non-con, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, arranged marriage, oviposition, breeding, royalty au note - in an effort to bring peace to two warring sides, you are engaged to the sea queen’s son.

If anyone is to blame for the abysmal diplomacy between the Land and the Sea, it would be your ancestors. Pompous and foolhardy, they thought they could rule the grand seas stretching out from the harbor, beyond weather-worn docks with their rotted, seaweed-strewn planks and briny fetor. The ocean was vast, unexplored territory—a dangerous, deceptive beauty harboring life far beneath unruly waves.

And your ancestors intended to claim it.

Sailors would recount tales of fishfolk—uncanny creatures who looked more marine than the two-legged mammals of the land. They’d raise mugs, each overflowing with ale, in drunken merriment, terrifying themselves with the mysteries of the deep, dark sea.

“It ought to give ya a proper scare straight to Davy Jones himself!” they’d say, voices lowered conspiratorially. “Soon as yer candle goes out and all ya’ve got’s the moon to guide ya… You’ll hear ’em slip through the water if yer listenin’ well enough.”

“You ever go and spy one up close?”

“I’d sooner see the Devil himself and let him keelhaul me before facin’ those cursed beasts!”

“The cut of their jib ain’t so pretty. Enough to give men like us a fright and we’ve seen all sorts of somethin’.”

“Monsters, I say! Monsters!”

Festivals were held to keep these beasts at bay—to prevent them from gathering the courage to creep up onto the land. Every year, during the summer solstice, pits were hollowed on the shore and bordered with stones. Flames licked towards the sky, red-orange fingers clawing for purchase amidst the stars above. Townsfolk would sing and dance late into the eve, bellowing songs passed through the generations. Children would skip up and down the beach, torches in hand, and cry out an old chant: “Fish for you and me are meant to stay in the sea! Should you see one on land, may the Heavens strike it down with a gentle, loving hand!”

Their excitement did well to ward off the fishfolk. Sometimes the lone child would spot one in the distance, peeking out from between the rocks before diving back under in a splash.

On land, humans were safe. On land, the fishfolk couldn’t catch them.

It was different in the sea.

Ships were destroyed in terrible tempests. The waves tossed them around as if they were nothing. Many sailors would find their demise at the bottom of the ocean, torn to shreds with shattered skeletons. Viscerally brutalized, they died with secrets on their tongues—secrets of the strange fishfolk who’d drag them down, down, down to a watery grave.

On one cold February afternoon, the octopus prince was brought into the world. In shadowed fathoms, a grand celebration was held. After so much time—misfortune after misfortune—one fry survived out of the entire clutch. He was round and soft and small, colored blue from exertion and fighting through the tug of the current to reach home. The Sea Queen met him halfway and embraced him, ecstatic tears in her eyes, for a mother’s love is stronger than any political power.

“My little Azul,” she said, stroking a hand along his cheek, “how precious you are.”

No ships were sunk; no lives were lost. It was a peaceful day for both the Land and the Sea. And it would continue to be so in the future. Every year on that same February, it was made a day of peace to honor the little prince.

A day of life, not death.

It was on that same February eleven years later when you were tossed into the frigid depths like a hatchling cast out of its nest. Similarly, your birth had been a wondrous occasion. Your parents brought five boys into the world, each just as adored as the last, but they had been hoping for a daughter. It was a miracle when their fervent wishes were finally granted. You were spoiled as all daughters often are, pampered and doted on by your family and the palace staff.

Your brothers, though protective and caring, were a troublesome and rowdy bunch. Kyffin was the eldest. Two years younger was Emyr, and another two years behind him was Owin. A year younger than him were twins Morcan and Martyn. They picked on you as all immature boys often do when caught up in sibling rivalries, aiming to be the only one their parents see. To prove themselves as the best, the strongest, the wisest.

So it was with a half-cruel heart that Emyr tossed you into the waves from where he stood in the rowboat.

“Only way to learn is with exposure!” he called down to you, watching as you struggled against the push and pull of the sea. 

“C-Can’t!” you shouted back, choking on salt and flailing about. “E-Emyr, I can’t—can’t swim!”

“Don’t be silly,” Owin added with a sweet smile. “It’s how we learned. That old sod threw us right in. You’re lucky it’s us and not him. He was awfully mean with it, wasn’t he?”

“Terribly so.” Emyr watched your struggling a moment longer and clicked his tongue. He held the oar out just before you could slip under, and you clung to it with shaky hands. “Come on—let’s get you up here. You’re not gonna get it today.”

“Fin got it on his first try.”

“Fin gets everything on his first bloody try.”

Relieved, your heart pounding like a drum, you peered up at your brothers. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get it…”

“Nothing to apologize for. You’ll get it one day.”

“We’ll keep trying until then. And once you do, we’ll throw you a big party.”

“Really? Will you really do that?” Your expression brightened, but your brothers’ faces darkened. They saw the shadow before you did. Saw the webbed hands reaching out, the serrated teeth glinting in a sinister smile.

And then—

Owin leaned over, his arm outstretched. So fluid was his motion that it took you by surprise. “(Name), grab on! Hurry! Before—”

The rest of his warning was muffled by the water. You hardly had any time to brace yourself when you were yanked under, your nails raking across the wood of the oar as you went with the force of the pull. Salt stung your eyes when you cracked them open, peering frantically at blurry surroundings. Teal-green specks slid silently through the shadows, mismatched eyes flicking over your form. And then there was a high, raucous sort of chittering. Like a dolphin’s cry, loud and piercing. You squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your palms against your ears.

It only lasted a few mere seconds, but it felt like an eternity trapped in the coils of a creature you couldn’t comprehend. One moment you were holding your breath and the next arms were hooked around your torso, and you were pulled up and into the belly of the rowboat. Your hands flew to your throat, and you coughed up seawater while Owin patted you.

“It’s fine. It’s…okay,” Emyr muttered, his voice shot through with fear. It was the most shaken he’d ever sounded.

Blood fogged in the water, staining the tip of his harpoon. He gazed down at his hand. A deep, jagged gash ran angrily from palm to wrist. He hissed and closed his fingers in a tight fist.

“We gotta get back,” Owin was saying, still rubbing soothing circles into your back. “I’ll row. You rest.”

“Not good,” Emyr said instead, shaking his head in dismay as he watched your attackers retreat.

“We’re still in our waters, right? We didn’t go past the boundary, did we?”

“Let’s hope not.”

“We didn’t, right?”

“Let’s hope—” Emyr paused, collecting his words. “Let’s hope those monsters were in the wrong.”

“Father’s gonna kill us.”

“If not us, the monsters.”

Both brothers looked towards you. Your tunic was torn, stained through with saltwater and blood. You shivered all the way to shore.

Following that mishap, an official meeting was called between the Land and the Sea. The King—your father—met the Sea Queen at the border. He stood proud on his ship, peering down at her with fire in his old eyes.

“Your Majesty.”

The Sea Queen was just as formidable as those who came before her. Her tentacles unfurled as one, and if you looked at them long enough they almost seemed to take on the shape of an obsidian-colored crinoline.

“I believe my mother and your father made the terms quite clear all those years ago,” she said, a wave lifting her to meet the King at the deck of his ship. “So then, with that in mind, there should be no reason for us to meet under these circumstances.”

Emyr and Owin stood just behind their father. You peered through their legs at the Sea Queen, silently amazed. You’d never seen anyone quite like her before. At least, not a real person. You’d seen her in storybooks, depicted as a fearsome beast with devilish features, and though there was something intimidating about her gaze and build she appeared understanding enough. Her grey skin was sleek in the morning sun, her long, silvery strands tied up and pinned with an ornate hair ornament. She looked beautiful in a magical, enigmatic way.

“I couldn’t agree more,” came the clipped response of your father. “Alas, misfortune has brought us here.” He stepped aside to allow her to behold Emyr’s bandaged hand. “Harm has befallen my son and daughter. I suppose you might have an inkling as to why they find themselves in their current state?”

She frowned, but you couldn’t tell if it was out of sympathy or some other emotion. “Perhaps one of them can give reason to the wound now marring one of my subject’s sons.”

Your father glanced overboard at the snake-like merman cradled in the arms of another merman. They looked near-identical, their features unmistakable. He glanced back at Emyr, his gaze hard. “Go on then. Explain yourself.”

Emyr stepped forward. “With wholehearted respect, Your Majesty, it was out of self-defense. Your kind—they attacked us first.”

“You were in our waters!” one of the mers exclaimed, pointing a clawed finger towards Emyr. “It’s all your fault Jade got hurt!”

Owin hurried ahead, his hands gripping the taffrail. “He’s playing it up! It was a graze!”

“He could’ve died! You almost killed him!”

“That is enough,” the Sea Queen said, jutting an arm out to silence both sides. “I understand everyone is hurt here. Our feud lies in misunderstanding.” She gazed at you next. “Little one, we have yet to hear your story. Do share.”

You glanced at the guards, at Owin and Emyr, and then at father. He nodded encouragingly. “U-Um!” Shyly, you approached the Sea Queen. “My brothers were teaching me how to swim. I don’t know anything about whose water is whose. I just wanted to learn how to swim.” You met the fierce scowl of the mer holding his twin brother and quickly looked elsewhere. “He grabbed me before my brothers could pull me up.”

“Because you were trespassing. Anyone who tresspasses ought to—”

“Floyd.”

At the not-so-subtle warning in his father’s voice, he shut his mouth and snarled. His brother—Jade—was handed off to their father, who assessed his state with a frown.

“He will live, but it will take time for him to recover. My son is right. Your son could have killed him.”

“Just as your sons could have killed my sister!” Owin shouted, glaring.

Floyd stuck his tongue out, remorseless.

“It is impossible to know which side is in the wrong,” your father began, turning towards the Sea Queen. “Seeing as both have been injured, I am willing to apologize on behalf of my sons.”

“What?!” Owin’s head turned towards his father. “You’re bloody mad! Have you not seen—”

“Father,” Emyr interjected evenly. “We have nothing to apologize for. We were within our waters. We had no ill will towards the others. It was completely innocent.”

The Sea Queen hummed her contemplation. “The boundary was drawn for a reason, decided upon by those who came before us, and yet it does more harm than good. It is not for safety’s sake. It is to keep us divided—to ensure that neither side will ever know peace.”

“And you’re implying that we get rid of it?”

She nodded, quite serious. Everyone looked on in equal parts shock and disbelief. “Why do we continue to fight? It does nothing but open old wounds, rendering them incurable. Innocent lives are lost in petty squabbling. And for what?”

To that, no one could offer a smart reply.

“Therefore I propose peace. A union to welcome a new era—one in which we embrace one another as allies without animosity.”

“A union?” Your father raised a brow, suspicious but willing to listen. “I suppose it would be beneficial. My people would be free to travel the seas at their leisure.” “And mine would no longer have to live in fear of being thoughtlessly slaughtered and taken as trophies.”

“Unbelievable,” Orwin muttered.

Emyr elbowed him. “Knock it off.”

“We’ll collaborate on a contract. One that dissolves the invisible boundary that has been the cause for so much suffering. In order to attain true peace, I shall offer you my only son.” She glanced at you and then back at your father. “Your daughter shall marry him when they are of age.”

“What?! No way! Ew! Gross!” Your voice came out shrill and you shook your head in protest. “I don’t wanna marry an octopus! No, I won’t do it!”

Your father stood in front of you. “She’s my only daughter. If something were to happen—”

“Which is precisely why I bring up this engagement. Should they be betrothed, we as their parents will promise to uphold peace to give them bright futures and they will act as the first example of a human-mer alliance. Unions between humans and merfolk are unheard of, but is this not the best way to foster harmony between the Land and Sea?”

“I won’t do it! No! Don’t make me marry a gross—” Emyr gathered you in his arms, holding his uninjured hand over your mouth.

“Let the grown-ups talk.”

Owin frowned. “I still don’t agree with this…”

Your father mulled it over, his eyes glazed in thought. “Very well. We will create a contract—an official peace treaty.”

Both leaders shook hands and planned to convene at the end of the week to discuss further.

You watched the mers depart, each one slipping under the sea. Floyd was the last to go, staring at you with a mean sort of vitriol. And then he, too, dove under.

“He didn’t mean it, right?” you whispered to Emyr after your father gave the order to turn the ship around and head for land. “I won’t have to marry an octopus, right?”

Emyr could only offer a commiserate frown.

“She’s a brat,” Floyd spits. “Stupid, evil Two Legs.”

Jade chuckles and runs his fingers over the scar. “I consider it an honor.”

“Yeah, well, I think it’s messed up. She’s the reason you can’t ever swim naturally again. While she’s up there in her pretty, little tower, safe and sound, you’re still hurting.”

“It’s not as much of a hindrance as you may think. I’m not weak, mind you.”

Floyd grumbles. “Still. She’s mean.”

Azul gazes up at the palace, sighing dreamily. “She’ll be my wife someday. That’s what humans call it, yes? Husband and wife… What wonderful words.”

It’s been one year since the peace treaty. Since then, humans and merfolk have made an effort to get along. This is the second time Azul will be meeting with you. He’s nervous. The first time you went out to sea to greet him, and he’d gotten so anxious that he inked right then and there. His mother entertained you from where you sat in the boat with your personal guard. It was a mortifying experience—one that had taken him months to recover from.

Now he’s going to try to meet you in the shallows. Try is the key word here. He’s scared, all three hearts beating as one. Is it too late to reschedule?

“I can’t believe you’re actually okay with this. You that lonely?”

Azul turns to scowl at both twins, but it’s mostly directed at Floyd. “I never asked you to tag along. Leave me alone.”

Jade smiles. “And let the Queen’s little prince swim to his death?”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Sure you can. But what about when Two Legs gets ya? What then?”

“She wouldn’t do that.”

Floyd rolls his eyes. “You saw what her brothers did to Jade.”

“Because you tried to kill her.”

“Because she was in our territory!”

Azul huffs and pushes him away with a tentacle. “Regardless, we’re supposed to be on good terms now. You’ll break the contract if you try anything dangerous.”

“He’s right, Floyd.”

“Ugh. Whatever.” Floyd turns away, stubborn. “This is lame. I’m not stickin’ around.”

Jade lingers long enough to observe the way Azul lights up when he spots you on the stone steps. And then he disappears beneath the water.

Barefoot, holding your dress up and out of the way, you pad across the beach.

“Why are you here? I’m busy. My brothers are taking me into town.”

The smile that had been fighting to break out on his face frosts over. “Oh. I… Um…” Azul fumbles with the conch shell he’d collected on the way here. A gift for you. He made sure to study human speech patterns in the months leading up to this meeting. He’s fully prepared! And yet you look so displeased. “F-For you! I found it…”

You stare at the shell clutched in a dark tentacle. Tentatively, you reach for it. “Why?”

“Ah. W-Well, my mother says gifts are an important part of any bond. In the sea, we give gifts to the ones we care about. To friends and family and o-other halves…”

You turn the shell over in your hands. “We’re not friends.”

“Not yet,” he tries, but you shake your head.

“You ran away from me the last time we met. That’s not very friendly.”

His face flushes blue and he opens his mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. It wasn’t on purpose.

You’re already turning on your heel. “I don’t have time for this.” You toss the shell over your shoulder. Azul watches it land in the sand, just out of his grasp.

“W-Wait! I… I want to talk to you. Please don’t go. You’re going to be my other half one day, so I’d like to—”

But you’re already dashing across the beach to get to the stairs.

Azul deflates against the rock. Tears overflow in floods. Is it because of him? Is he to blame? Why don’t you want to be his friend? Is it because of the peace treaty? Why?

Why? Why? Why?

Azul doesn’t want to think negatively of you. Humans are sensitive creatures. He reads up on them in the palace library, poring over literature and textbooks in an effort to better understand you. But as the months pass and you seem to simply tolerate him for the sake of the alliance, he begins to suspect something.

It’s made apparent the next time he sees you, where you walk right past the beach to catch up with your brothers. He hides behind the rocks, two blue eyes following your figure until you’re out of sight.

Floyd was right. You are a brat.

And yet he can’t hate you.

On the eve of your eighteenth birthday, Azul meets you in the shallows.

Nowadays you send letters, preferring strained long distance over the personal intimacy of face-to-face relations. These exchanges are purely diplomatic. But now that he’s asked to meet with you, a rare occurrence, you’ve deigned to greet him in person. It’s the least you can do after he’s gone through the trouble to travel here. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him that he’s almost unrecognizable. You remember the round, baby-faced octo-mer from your childhood. The one who lounges against the rocks is leaner now—his features defined, jawline as sharp as his eyes. They cut through the gloom to find you.

“You wished to see me?” You’re in your nightwear, a silky gown with an even softer robe. A cool breeze blows across the beach, and you wrap your arms around yourself for extra warmth. “Azul?”

He hesitates, his gaze trailing up your legs. You’ve also changed a lot in the time you’ve been apart. You’ve grown taller, filling out in places he didn’t know humans could fill. What he’d give to hold you… His mother says he needs to be patient. Fickle thing that you are, you’re the reason he’s spent six years trying to appease you through letters—to win you over and be anything more than that “annoying octopus” you’re doomed to marry. Perhaps it would have been easier to act just as you do if it weren’t for the fact that he’d been elated at the premise of having someone to love. When his mother broached the idea in the days following her meeting with the Land King, he’d stared at her with wide, excited eyes.

“There’s a human girl who wants to be my friend?” he asked, to which his mother smiled and nodded.

More than a friend, actually, but then all he was focused on was finally getting to experience the one thing he’d never known or had: friendship.

Sighing, he foregoes formality and holds out a necklace. It dangles from the tip of his tentacle. Strung on a dainty, silver strand, pearls wink back at you under the moonlight. Azul averts his eyes, his cheeks a pleasant periwinkle.

“Happy birthday…”

“Oh.” You move in closer, taking the necklace from him. His tentacle pursues you, twining delicately around your wrist. “Um… What is it? Do you need—whoa!”

Azul tugs you closer. The sea laps at your ankles. Beneath a tapestry of stars, you meet his azure stare. His features are set with a determination you’ve never seen before.

“I want to start over.”

“Start over?”

“I’d like to be on friendly terms with you. We’re so cold. Distant…” Azul frowns, seeming unsure of what to say or do next. The tentacle laced around your wrist like a bracelet tightens its hold. “We’re to be wed one day. I want to make this work.”

You blink at him. He thinks he may have gotten through to you, having finally broken through layers of stone and ice, but then your nose scrunches and odium shimmers in your gaze.

“That’s impossible. I’m a human. How am I supposed to live with an octopus?” You shake him off with a huff. “I’m not sure what our parents think this will accomplish. I don’t want to be a pawn to be moved around for the sake of peace. I’m my own person.”

Azul’s expression sours. His lip curls up into a sneer. “Well, I don’t find it very enjoyable either. You’re not the only victim in this scenario.”

You exhale an exhausted breath. “Azul, I appreciate the gift, but it doesn’t mean anything if you’re only giving it to me to curry favor.”

I wasn’t, he thinks, but he doesn’t say that. Admitting it would be a weakness. Admitting it would mean coming to terms with an unrequited opinion.

“At least one of us is making a conscious effort.”

“At least one of us isn’t trying so hard. It’s pathetic.”

“You’re not obligated to accept my goodwill.” He smiles, smug. “Yet you do every time. I’d wager you enjoy my materialistic affections.”

“As if.” Despite this, you hold the necklace out of his reach when a tentacle flexes towards it. “It’s mine now.”

“So you are fond of my ‘pathetic’ ways!”

“I’m not!”

You jerk away with a vicious scowl, but your foot catches in the sand and you quickly find yourself tipping backwards. If not for the tentacles that coil around your waist to steady you, you would have fallen on your rear. Your chest heaves with adrenaline. Stunned, you stare at Azul.

“You…caught me,” you breathe, lips parted in awe.

“Did you think I’d let you fall?” He cocks his head at you, grinning playfully. “Why, I’d never! Unless it’s me you’re falling for, in which case I gladly welcome the—”

“You’re such a pest.” Untangling yourself from his grasp, which he allows without scrimmage, you step away from the water’s edge. He watches you secure the pearls around your neck, and his hearts stumble in his chest when you point an accusatory finger at him. “Don’t delude yourself with foolish nonsense. I have no interest in you.”

With an indignant harrumph, you start towards the palace.

“May we meet here tomorrow?” Azul calls out after you, testing his luck with what little chance he has.

“Don’t push it.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

“Good. Keep waiting, dummy!” You break into a sprint, hurrying off into the shadows.

Azul smiles at the empty beach. Whether or not you like him, it doesn’t matter. You’re to be his one day. You’ve always been, ever since he was eleven.

He’ll wait, even if you won’t show.

Ostensibly, twenty-one years wise, you’re getting married today.

Your gown is just as exquisite as your hair and makeup. Pearls cling to your throat and arms—classic wedding attire for merfolk. A thin veil shields the scheme in your stare.

This was an inevitability, but you’re determined to fight it until the end. No matter how quickly time seems to pass, you’ll do everything you can to stall and slow it.

Gripping a sharpened dagger in a resolute fist, you drag it through the long, sprawling train of your gown.

“As if I’d marry an octopus,” you grumble, cutting fine fabric until you’re permitted smoother movement. Gazing at yourself in the mirror, you scowl. “I’m no one’s bride.”

By the time the maids arrive to check on you, you’ve already stolen out the window.

The rowboat sways on choppy water. You’ve watched your brothers do this enough times to have the technique engraved in your memory. Your arms strain with the oars, every muscle screaming in protest, but you fight through the pain. The palace looks smaller and smaller with every passing minute. Eventually, you’re so far out that the land is but a mere speck.

It’s going well. You’re escaping towards a better future—a future without the octopus prince.

You glance towards the horizon. Your boat undulates with the waves.

You’ll miss your brothers, your maids, your personal guard…

Water slops over the edge. You yelp, startled. Have the seas always been so rough?

Despite everything, you’ll miss your father.

Just as you think this, your boat rocks to the side. You grab onto the edge to steady yourself, but it’s already too late. It tips over and you go with it, careening into the sea with a noisy splash. Twin shadows cut seamlessly through the murky water. You catch sight of a yellow eye before you propel yourself towards the sky, coughing and heaving once you break the surface. You grab onto the overturned rowboat, your dagger clutched in one hand.

You search the surface for them, eyes flicking to and fro in a frantic panic.

Somewhere… Anywhere… Where are you?

And then you find them, peering at you from the other side of the boat.

“Go on then,” you spit, glaring. “Kill me.”

Floyd bares his teeth at you. “This time I ain’t gonna leave a scar.”

“You know we mustn’t. That’s not why we’re here.” Jade smiles at you, but there’s something in his eyes that unnerves you. “Your Highness, you should know it’s poor manners to leave the groom on his special day.”

Floyd circles you restlessly. “S’not fair we gotta be nice when you’re so mean.”

“I’m not going to marry him.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice in that matter.”

“What’d Azul ever do to you?”

You attempt to answer that before realizing the truth. Nothing. He’s done absolutely nothing but be kind and understanding and patient. And I took that, chewed it up, and spat in his face.

“If you used that brain of yours, you wouldn’t have thrown yourself to the sharks. We can’t get to you on land.” “But it’s fair game in the sea,” Floyd finishes, every syllable dripping with pride. “Stupid Two Legs.”

“I’m inclined to agree. You’re not the brightest human. A pity.”

“My brother should’ve gutted you when he had the chance. Maybe then—”

You see the whites of Floyd’s eyes when he strikes, launching himself at you with a clawed hand, sharp, pointed teeth aiming for your jugular.

This is it. You’re dead.

…or not.

The searing pain never comes, nor does the impending laceration. You cling to the boat and watch dark tentacles rise from the depths to close around Floyd, ensnaring him in a firm hold. He thrashes, snapping his jaws like a deranged beast.

“Let go of me, Azul! Lemme at her! She’s a bitch! I’ll kill her!”

“There will be none of that.” Azul tuts. “I don’t intend to marry a corpse.”

Jade swims over to you. “My feelings aren’t hurt in the slightest, Your Highness. If it weren’t for your status and connection to Azul, I’d have disemboweled you ages ago. Quite a relief for you, yes?”

You swallow your horror, allowing him to detach you from the boat so that Azul can turn it over. A tentacle curls around your waist, lifts you from the water, and places you back in the boat. You stare at your hands. They’re trembling. You can hardly hold the dagger properly.

It takes some convincing and a lukewarm apology from you, but Floyd promises to be good. He doesn’t do anything as you’re pulled back to shore, but he does stare at you for the duration of the trip, his eyes tracking your every movement. You press yourself into the belly of the boat, defeated and riddled with anxiety.

Your father isn’t pleased. When you see his enraged expression, the debate dies on your tongue. “You are to marry the prince,” he seethes, pulling you aside, “or else you jeopardize the peace of our kingdom.”

You’re washed and fitted in a new dress. Guards are stationed at all possible routes to prevent another escape.

When you walk down the beach to meet Azul in the shallows, your veil shields the sadness in your stare.

The ceremony carries on without incident. Floyd watches from the water, lurking like Death. You speak rehearsed vows in robotic monotone, mindlessly floating through the rigmarole like it’s second nature. Azul smiles at you through it all, sweetly smitten.

It’s a nightmare lived in real time.

Humans and mers alike congratulate you, cheering for this momentous occasion. Your tongue is numb by the end of it all. You’ve expressed faux gratitude so many times that it hurts to even force the words. And now, as night descends and the party kicks into full swing, you’re left reflecting on the day.

Freedom feels so far away. You’ll never know it again, will you?

Azul guides you away from the crowd. Firelight grows dim with the distance. Eventually, you find yourself taking refuge in a tiny inlet cut into the beach. A rocky outcrop hides you from the moon’s spotlight.

“I’m not upset,” Azul murmurs, curling a tentacle up your leg. “But Floyd is.”

“His brother’s the one who hurt me all those years ago.”

“That was before the union.”

“I’m not letting it go.”

“Perhaps not now, but you will. One day.”

You don’t believe him.

“Our people are at peace. Aren’t you pleased, my love?”

You shove him away, gathering heaps of your dress to walk in calf-deep water. “I’m not your love.”

“Legally, you are.”

“That means nothing to me. Absolutely nothing.”

Azul sighs. “Even now, after everything, you’re still trying to flee.”

“For good reason. I don’t want to be tied down.”

Azul inches closer. Another tentacle wraps slyly around your ankle.

“You’re so beautiful. I feel like the luckiest mer in the sea. To be able to call you my own… My beautiful bride.” He pulls you closer. You resist weakly. “Now that we’re alone I can finally tell you the very thing I’ve thought of ceaselessly for years.”

A tentacle slides up your leg, straying closer to your inner thigh. You flinch away.

“Azul, wait. I don’t want—”

“I love you.”

You squirm in his hold, attempting to thwart the tentacles that grab at your every limb. You trip over yourself in the process. This time Azul doesn’t catch you. Water laps at your dress, soaking through at once. He’s radiant beneath the moon. Dreading his touch, you scoot as far from him as you can get in the water, hoping to reach land. Azul seizes your wrist and pulls you into his arms. You fight him with more force.

“No… No, let go of me! Release me!”

“Why should I? You’re mine now. Is it not customary for a married couple to consummate their new bond? We do something similar in the sea.” A tentacle brushes your veil back so that he can look upon your pretty face. “I’d take you to a quiet space in the seagrass, lay you down in the sand, and then—”

“I don’t want that! No!” You lash out, swinging blindly. A tentacle shoots out to stop your arm before it can smack him. “Azul, please—”

“I was patient. I waited and waited in hopes that you might warm up to me. I cherished you in silence. I learned your language. Your customs. Your habits. I wrote to you. Traveled to meet you. And yet you look at me as if I’m a monster…”

It’s not the devastated look in his eyes or the edge in his voice that scares you. It’s the startling gentleness with which he handles you. Tentacles loop around your body, exploring beneath your gown. You wriggle in discomfort, yelping when suckers brush against the frilly garter secured around your thigh. Azul hums and holds you up in his tentacles, using two to spread your legs so that he may slide it from your leg.

“I wasn’t forceful. I courted you kindly. You accepted all of my gifts. You wore them proudly and I thought—I knew you would love me, too. You were mine from the moment our parents signed that agreement. And if you leave me, you’ll break a political promise and then our kingdoms will go to war and I’ll be sure to collect the heads of your family first. Each one of them, and you will watch as I bring ruin to the kingdom you love so fondly.”

“N-No… Please stop. Please.”

“I’ve waited ten years for you.” A tentacle hooks around your panties. You thrash again, shaking your head at him. He remains unconvinced, watching with gleeful eyes as your nudity is revealed to him. “And aren’t you an angel? Oh, you’re so pretty…”

Like your hopes, your panties are cast aside.

The tip of a tentacle prods curiously at your pussy. Your breath hitches.

“W-Wait! You… You can’t.” His eyes find yours, and you swallow the rising sob. “T-That can’t go inside… It won’t fit. It won’t—”

Azul smiles. “Of course it will. The human body is capable of marvelous feats.”

Even though it’s pointless, you struggle. “I can’t! Please… Azul, I’m scared. Please don’t do this…”

A lone tentacle slides into your hand. Thoughtless, you hold tight.

“My love, there’s no need to cry. I’m not going to hurt you.” He brings you closer, kissing your tears away. “I’m here for you. I’ve always been here, even when you didn’t seem to need me.”

You hiccup, your chest heaving. It’s not lonely for long, for he pulls your dress down your shoulders. Your breasts spill free and are quickly cradled in cold hands. Azul watches your expression with an intense focus while he rolls your nipples between his fingers. You grit your teeth, refusing to respond. But then the tentacle between your legs finds your clit and a sucker affixes to it, suctioning slowly. You gasp and throw your head back, bolts of pleasure racing up your spine. It happens in a white-hot flash. You slacken in his grasp.

Azul laughs, astonished. “Did you cum? Already?”

“Nooo,” you whine, closing your hand around the tentacle once more. Another one strokes your cheek. “You’ve had your fun. Now let go of me…”

“What a silly demand.”

He tugs on your nipples. You groan, lashes fluttering. “Ooh… Stop. No, stop it… Don’t touch there. Not—haa… Not there!”

“You’re so sensitive.” He drags the underside of a tentacle along your cunt and shivers. “And so wet… Is this your season? Do humans experience such a thing?”

You’ve no idea what he’s referring to, but before you can dwell on it he leans down to take your perky bud in his mouth. Your free hand grabs at his hair, pinning him to your chest. His tongue laves across it, warm and wet. You shouldn’t enjoy it so much, and yet you can’t stop yourself from crying out.

He hums against your skin, beaming like a devil. You can’t hate him. He’s your husband. He’s yours. You shouldn’t hate him.

You’re falling apart in his tentacles, grinding down to chase the bliss provided by the underside of the appendage clinging to your pussy. The sinful squelch of skin on skin fills the quiet inlet. The scent of sex and salt intermingles. It’s wrong and it’s right. It’s instinct, carnal and corrupt. Azul groans against your breast, your teat between his teeth.

“Az—ooh!” You tug on his hair, insatiable. Your brain is fogging over with lust. You don’t want to lose yourself in this madness. You can’t. “N-No more… No more.” 

But he’s not listening. He pinches your other nipple between his fingers, and that’s all it takes for you to unravel.

In the aftermath, the tapered tip of a thicker tentacle squirms between your thighs. Mindlessly, you spread your legs and lift your hips for him. It presses in shallowly, a jarring experience.

“Not inside—don’t! You can’t!”

Azul pulls away from you, his expression scrunched in woozy ecstasy. “Why not?” he mumbles, smiling stupidly. “You’re my bride. It’s only fair…”

Before you can bicker, he kisses you. His tongue pursues yours in a sloppy tango. You lick into his mouth, desperate and dazed. Lost in a sea of salacity, shipwrecked on an island of forgotten inhibitions.

The tentacle pushes through rings of tight, slick muscle. Tears spring to your eyes. It feels weird and foreign, so unlike your fingers. He holds you close, minding his strength and pace. It fills you slowly, reaching places you’ve never been able to feel. The lust numbs your senses and gives way to something animalistic—a base desire you’ve suppressed. Azul rocks the appendage deeper until it’s pushed up against the entrance to your womb, squeezed snugly in your warm walls.

“I-It’s in…” you mumble once he’s broken the kiss, a strand of saliva connecting your mouths. “It’s really…inside me…”

Azul kisses your cheek and pets you with a tentacle. “We were made for each other.”

Surely not, you think, but it feels so when he draws back and thrusts in. Maybe he’s right.

He fucks you gently, savoring every single sound you make. He tells you he loves you, whispers it over and over like it’s prayer. You nod dumbly, grabbing at his hand to hold it. The both of you are gasping in unison, chasing cloud nine. In just a few more deep strokes, his tip bullying its way to your womb, he finally finds his end. A thin substance fills you up in plentiful amounts. Distantly, you think it’s water until he drags your hips further down. Your mouth drops open in a strangled scream as something round and gelatinous passes through. It settles in your womb, and you know right away that it shouldn’t be there.

You panic. “W-Wait… Wha—Zul… Stop… No, I don’t want—”

“It’s all right,” he breathes, his mouth on your shoulder. He soothes you with soft shushes and even softer kisses. “You’re okay. I’m here.”

You dig your nails into the tentacle curled in your palm just as a second orb squeezes through. He groans, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Finally…” He pants, a wobbly smile stretching on his delirious countenance. “Finally, my love, my dear—oh, my beloved bride!”

He cradles you like a mother would a newborn. You lie there as he fills you, your voice hoarse from babbling and bewailing. These things—little orbs of jelly—are stuffed into your womb, and by the time you surpass twenty you lose count and blank out, trembling through yet another orgasm. You’re not sure how many more he has left or how many more you can possibly fit. It feels too good to think about that.

“Bigger. They’ll get bigger. You’ll look so pretty—round and full and soft.”

Dizzy, you glance at the bloated dome that is your belly. Your gown strains over it, an impressively deceptive size that you almost mistake for pregnancy. That’s when it clicks. Eggs. These are eggs.

“I’ll make sure they survive. All of them—as many as I possibly can. I’ll stay by your side. I’ll keep you content. I’ll fill you with love—so much love—an abundance of it, and you’ll never know emptiness again,” he rambles, resting a tentacle over your distended middle.

It’s not just a senseless sweet nothing. It’s a promise.

[icanseethefuture333]

PAC: Who wants to take a baecation with you (18+)

Pile 1:

Shufflemancy -

Good Days by SZA

Jhené (xy) by SMAVS

Big Energy by Latto

Justice, Six of Wands, Four of Swords, The Fool, The Golden Mirror, Cupid’s Arrow, The Dragonfly, Hammer, Gifts, & Dating

You are seeking a partner who is fair and allows you to express the most wild parts of yourself. You could be someone who is considered a “lady in the streets, but a freak in the sheets”. You maintain a clean image or could work in a very professional setting. I feel like you have a duality to yourself. For some of you, you could code switch or switch dialects when working and off work or you could also speak two different languages. When you are on your off days, you enjoy partying, going to the club, or hanging out with close friends. Your demeanor and style is very attractive to this person. The person who wishes to take a baecation with you could be very introverted. Not to sound rude, but they could be insecure of “wimpy” in comparison to you as well. They lack courage to go out in social settings and prefer more lowkey events. This person could admire you from afar - I’m hearing “wow I really wish I could eat them out” 😳. They find your scent to be really enticing and could want to smell your pheromones. They really want to have hot and sweaty sex with you 🫠🥴. They could want to hear what your moans sound like and it really frustrates them because they’re too scared to ask you out LOLLL. You could be on the more curvy side while this person is more thin and lanky in height, if not, then this person is just really intimidated by your beauty. Their dream is to ask you out and wine and dine you to get you into bed 😝. This person self sabotages though and could be very sensitive or prone to jealousy. So I don’t see this relationship being long term, more so a summer fling. They could please you sexually and vice versa - 69? 😳 you could have been single for a while and focusing on yourself since most suitors don’t seem to be the right fit but I see this person potentially giving you another chance at love again, even if it won’t be long term. You will find this person will exceed your expectations. You might think that they can’t handle you or you’re too much of them but boy will you be surprised 😩. Things will naturally unfold and this person could come forward if you take a light hearted approach. Complimenting them or doing light touches to tease them would make them fold in a heartbeat. Be careful of love bombing from romantic suitors as well this summer because your magnetism will just be so enticing!!

Pile 2:

Shufflemancy -

Aquaman by Jay Park

Whiplash by NCT 127

F*ck Me & Feed Me by Rendezvous At Two

Four of Wands, The Empress, Queen of Pentacles, The Hierophant, Kisses, Self Indulgence, Soulmates, Healing Heart, Mature Woman, & Past Life

I’m seeing sensual kisses 💋😩. This person wants to take it slow with you, pile 2. They are very romantic and traditional. This could be an anniversary with your current specific person or the partner you will be dating for a while. If you are single, then the date you will have with them will you have thinking “this could be my person”. You have been hoping to find someone who ticks all the boxes in your dream partner and I feel this person is who you will be looking for. The sex could feel like it’s deep in your soul 😩. Something about it is transformative and alluring. It reminds me of the scene with Nina and her friend from Love Jones when she said “his dick just talked to me.” “What did it say?” “Nina~”. They want to make you squirt and cum over and over 💦. You might cry or feel overstimulated after sex but I’m seeing this person is great with aftercare. This person will be helping you heal your heart. They want to make you feel good and is going to be giving you the princess treatment. They are focused on fulfilling your needs and making you happy. It sounds almost too be good to be true - but I want to tell you this is 100% the truth, pile 2! You are entering your grown woman era and need a partner to match this new confident energy of yours. Congrats baby 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↔️😏!

Pile 3

Shufflemancy -

Me & You by Central Cee

Hopscotch by Tinashe

There Goes My Baby by Usher

The Star, King of Wands, Eight of Pentacles, Death, Date, Seduction, Not Today, Palm Tree, Destiny, True Gem, Friendship, & Open Relationship

This energy is so much fun I love it ☀️🍹! I see this pile really embodying good vibes and enjoying the summer fun, you will have such a great time!!! I feel this summer you want to focus on traveling and not be tied down to anyone - but just because you’re not interested in a relationship doesn’t mean you wouldn’t like to have sex 👀. I’m seeing you attending events like festivals or concerts. You could make friends with people from various places and diverse backgrounds. Your instagram story or reels will have people enthralled. You could have a lot of people lurking on your page. You might be considered a micro celebrity or you could be really popular on social media. There is someone who has the hots for you and could slide in your dms. This person could treat you with gifts or court you on dates. Do you have an onlyfans 😳? If not, this person wants to see your nudes. You could avoid this person because you don’t want to be in a relationship but this person will be down for anything you want. Seeing how they are adventurous and how much they’re willing on to go out on dates is going to draw you to them. This will most likely be a friends with benefits situation or an open relationship. They could have really nice hands or something about them turns you on 🥴. This person wants to grab your breasts while you ride them. They could be a very touchy person and could like to smack your ass when you walk past them. “Quit playing with me with them sundresses before I do something about it 😒”. Oh my god they are so sick 😂 they are literally so obsessed with you but act like they aren’t. I feel like you're a sick individual as well, are you walking around with sundresses and no panties just to tease them?! If this person is out of state or out of the country, they would personally fly you out to them just to have sex with them, ugh 😩. I’m seeing hotels, beaches, and champagne bottles. You both could really like to be lavish and fuck in exotic places 🏝️ city girls up one ⬆️💯

Pile 4:

Shufflemancy -

All The Time by Jeremih ft Lil Wayne & Natasha Mosley

Slut Me Out by NLE Choppa

Soaked by Shy Smith

Three of Wands, Page of Swords, Seven of Swords, The Hanged Man, Love Call, The Phoenix, I Like You, Mask, Triangle, Fun Times, & Passion

Ummm it’s giving the Challenger?! You could be involved in some sort of throuple. You have optionssss, pile 4. There are two energies here that are prominent here in this reading. You could be seeing two people at once and will be trying to decide who’s better (…why not both). You’re keeping your game face on and not letting your guard down so easily, you will really make them work for it. You are going to attract people with your beauty and will receive a lot of love confessions this summer. People could message you or call you to ask you out or telling you how much they like you. For some of you, please do not play with people’s heart or if you are in a relationship - do not cheat!!! Have fun but do not play with fire if you can’t take the heat, pile 4. The sex you will have will be passionate and pleasurable. I’m seeing you being the more dominant one in the relationship, you will say what you like and don’t like very clearly. I feel that you will be a detached in comparison to the people you will go out with. There is a fear of letting your guard down or feel that love isn’t something capable for you. You are deserving of love as long as you believe so. Try to let loose and let people see the happy and playful side of yours! It’s ok to like someone romantically, smile and flirt! 🫠 I’m seeing that the person you will have sex with could have a big 🍆 or someone will have a strap on😳. People will literally be on their knees for it and will beg to have sex with you. You don’t give your body to just anyone and you put yourself on a pedestal! Good luck to those who wish to have sex with you because it will be a long game of sexy torture.

Pile 5:

Shufflemancy -

These Walls by Kendrick Lamar

Jump by Tyla ft Gunna & Skillibeng

Options by Doja Cat ft JID

The Magician, Queen of Wands, Two of Pentacles, Eight of Cups, Girl Talk, Lightning, Heartbroken, Healthy Choices, Ice King, & Karma

When Tinashe said “I’ve been a nasty girl” I know sure as hell she was talking about you!!! Pile 5, this is wild 😂. I’m seeing toys and vibrators, you and this person will not care about the when’s, ifs, and buts. This person could be older than you or more experienced and wish to show you the ropes. For some of you there will be a big age gap with you and this person. They find you to be so hot and just are in love with your curves. Some of you could have long hair or currently have extensions (especially braids). They want to wrap your hair around their wrists when you kiss 🥴. They like when you wear body glitter or when your skin glistens in the sun. They find your décolletage area so sexy. Titty fucking 😔? They could like when you throw it back when you fuck - doggy style? You could call your friends about the sex you have with this person when they're gone 🤣. Just being messy and silly on the phone lol. As the relationship progresses you will notice a shift or change in the dynamic. You will have to decide whether or not this relationship should continue or not. This person could want to settle down and take things more seriously, while you could still be concerned about your future.This person desires to be married with children while you could still be young and wanting to explore in life. Omg- I’m getting pregnancy scare for some of you. Please make sure to use protection when having sex with them. You could find this person addicting and could please you in all the right ways but may not find them to be a suitable partner or compatible romantically. You have to decide whether or not, you will walk away from this person to pursue a career, or be disappointed you walked away from it all. Remember to make choices with your brain and not just your heart and coochie😂.

Pile 6

Shufflemancy -

One Love by Monsta X

Just One Nite by Cassie

Somethin Tells Me by Bryson Tiller

Nine of Pentacles, Ace of Wands, The Sun, Six of Pentacles, The Chaser, Separation, Coffee Cup, Ascending, Wallflower, New Love, & Courting

I feel this pile is younger or just more inexperienced. You could have not been in a relationship before or just intimate with others in general. You have a really soft and delicate nature to you, pile 6! You could feel that you’re not as sexy in comparison to other people but you can be just as sexy despite being shy or less experienced. You could have an issue with attachment or become clingy in your romantic pursuits. Pull back a little from the people you are attracted to. If you would allow people to come to you, you will see that you have more romantic interests than you may realize. You could currently have a crush on someone but this person does not give the same energy back. There is someone who finds you to be so pretty and cute, they feel protective over you. They find your energy sweet and sincere. They could wish to take you on a date and take a less traditional approach of dating. They could invite you to hang out with their friends or ask you to go for bubble tea or take you to the movies. This person could be inexperienced as well, they might have only had 1 or 2 partners that were long term relationships. They want to be respectful towards you but they do fantasize being with you sexually as well. Omg🫠🥰 this person is a talkerrr. They are the type to definitely talk you through it. “Is this okay?” “Am I making you feel good, baby?”. You could be someone who’s submissive sexually and they would find your whimpers and moans soooo sexy, it’s a major turn on for them. Your face in particular is their favorite. Ahegao? I'm seeing flushed cheeks, teary eyes, and your mouth being wide open. Your lips look so kissable to this person. For some of you, you and this person could have sex in either yours or their parent's house or in a dorm with their roommates there. They will try to keep you quiet by either kissing you, covering your mouth with their hand, or having you suck their fingers. They could ask you to make eye contact with them during it or not to look away. 😳 this person likes missionary, I mean legs over the shoulders missionary. They could find your nipples cute, especially if they’re pierced 💀? Enjoys playing with them. They want to cum with you at the same time, ugh I’m getting butterflies 🦋 😩. They would love it if you would grasp at their arms, dig your nails into their muscles, or tug on their hair, anything to let them know they’re doing a good job. They want to give you everything or be your first everything. I’m seeing flowers and stuffed animals, they like to see you smile and become joyful when they’re around. This person could heal a part of your inner child that felt rejected and not wanted, you will feel really protected and at home with them 🥹😭🩷 (brb as I go cry this is so pure and wholesome).

Pile 7:

Shufflemancy -

One Kiss by Dua Lipa

Feels Like by Nao

Strip by Chris Brown ft. Kevin McCall

Two of Wands, Three of Swords, The World, Queen of Swords, Sunglasses, Abundance, Cassette, Hand of Cards, Communication, & Long Distance

This feels like a long distance relationship to me. I’m getting cyber sex? 👀 maybe you and this person will meet online or through a dating app and things will get spicy from there 😚. This person really wants a whole show - they want you to strip for them on camera and show them what you could do. This person could like seeing you dance, are you a stripper, pile 7? I feel like you guys could know how to pole dance or the way your body moves just really entices this person, they can’t get enough of you. This person likes to take risks. They want to rip your clothes off! If you were to wear lingerie or buy stockings they’d want it off immediately, they might even just cut it off if you’re into that 👀. They like to sex to be a little risky, pull out method 💀. They could enjoy casinos, clubs, or any place that allows you to give into your vices. They could be into role play as well, pretending that you don’t know each other in public places and flirting. No offense, pile 7, but I feel like your partner will be corny LMFAOOOO. I feel like they watch too many movies (especially the x rated kind). You could find it entertaining though and just go along with it. You might be disappointed at the lack of romance during sex sometimes though, they could also cum fast. You could want them to be more romantic and this is something you would have to personally teach them (rip). They could be younger or more inexperienced than you while you are the more experienced/older one. They are more romantic via text and could show love by sending you words of affirmations or cute videos that remind you of them. You will really be cared for and admired by this person but to the best of their ability, they aren't exactly sure how to show affection. They have their ways that are a bit immature, but with patience the relationship could go however you want it. You have full control in this relationship, so do what you will with that information 👀.

Pile 8:

Shufflemancy -

Players by Coi Leray

Hot by Pia Mia

Regardless by Naomi Sharon

Ace of Swords, Three of Pentacles, Knight of Cups, Ace of Pentacles, Keys On A Ring, Love, The Butterfly, Passion, Past Love, & Union

I see that you have been looking for a new fling, pile 8. You could been in a on and off relationship or dating someone who you break up with and fall in love with again. You could often find yourself telling people that your relationship with this person is “complicated” or “we’re just talking”. This person could be wanting to avoid labels and you’re tired of having your heart strings being pulled. I see you putting yourself first this summer by realizing you have a choice in this relationship and do not need to feel stuck in this loop. You deserve so much better, pile 8! I see you making the necessary changes needed in your life and clearing out old energy by either cleaning your home and making way for new partners. I see some of you will be manifesting your dream partner by either visualizing how they interact with you or “hearing” what you would like them to say by responding to scenarios in your head. I see as you take care of yourself and seek other options romantically, this will make your current partner or past ex SOOOOO jealous! They’re going to feel threatened and worried you will walk away from them for good. I see them making an effort and wanting to get you back. Whatever the case might be, don’t let yourself fall into old patterns when you could attract a relationship that is so much better. If the relationship is worth working on, then so be it, but if it is not serving you for your highest good, then please walk away from this person! I also see someone else coming who will absolutely adore you. They are very charming and I’m hearing a lot of laughter. You and this person together could have a good time laughing and this will how they seduce you. This person is going to give you butterflies omg 😩. They could just be like “okay when we can stop joking and get to the bedroom 👀😈”. When you first meet this person, you could just pass each other everyday, and have brief conversations. This could be someone you meet in your daily routine, perhaps at a coffee shop or when you’re leaving from work. You could have long hair or something about your hair looks attractive to this person, they could want to pull on it and give you back shots 👀. There could be a size difference between you and this person but they will absolutely love it! Whether you or them are short/tall, slim, thick, etc, they’re willing to make it work 😂. You will have to decide between a partner who is humorous and flirtatious and a person who is more tender and old fashioned or this could mean your future partner has both qualities. The relationship has potential for long term commitment.

Pile 9

Shufflemancy -

Kisses Down Low by Kelly Rowland

Praise Jah In The Moonlight by YG Marley

He In His Feelings by Rubi Rose

Three of Cups, Eight of Wands, Knight of Swords, Nine of Wands, Stabbed In The Back, Boat, The Runner, Clock, Gossip, & Short-Term

You will be very popular this summer, pile 9! You are going to develop a social group that will be able to show your more feminine side and alluring qualities. I see you taking a trip or vacation with some close friends. You could meet someone while on vacation and they are going to come in QUICK. It might make you weary when you first meet this person because you could not want to focus on being in a relationship right now or don’t want wish to interact with someone romantically when you’re supposed to be spending time together with your friends. Some of the people in your circle could be jealous of you and the attention you attract. Please be careful and protect yourself energetically and physically when traveling with certain people! Especially if you’re still getting to know someone. You could find this friend or acquaintance of yours flirting with the person you like and they are going to be totally turned off by their behavior. I see you going “lol you tried it hoe”. The person who you will be dating this summer is very logical and not easily swayed. They are attracted to intelligence and skill. They could find some of the people in your friend group airheaded or not on your level, they might only enjoy the company of your closest friends but would avoid the rest all together if they could. I don’t see your relationship with this person being long term given the circumstances but you will enjoy their company outside of the drama in your friend group. They could allow you to unwind at their place and give the relaxation you need ☺️. This person could be good with their hands, I see them giving you back massages, or even rubbing your feet with oil. They find your shoulders, back, thighs, and feet in particular very attractive. I also see them liking your lips. They want to bite your bottom and give you slow, tongue kisses. I’m hearing “Ooo, you nasty😝” this person could be more serious while you are more playful. You really intrigue this person and find them catching themselves doing things out of their nature. They feel they are able to have fun and be their true self around you. I’m hearing “got a white boy on my roster, he be feeding me shrimp and lobster”. You could enter an interracial relationship or you and this person could be different in a lot of ways but it works for the both of you (whether economically, personality, culture, or age). Despite you only getting to be with this person for a short time, they will want to be able to see you again and find you really fascinating 🥰!

[enjakey]

Through Plastic Screens

Pairing: Niki x Fem!Reader

Old fic (8k) being reposted AGAIN. Not plagiarised guys, it’s the same person. I literally cry every time I reread this. It’s gotta be one of my favourite fics I’ve written.

There’s so much yearning, so much slow burn- and I chose to hurt myself by writing this.

Summary: in which Niki, enhypen’s baby, falls in love with a fan, Y/N. And somehow, through all the tribulations of life, they stay in touch. Calls, texts, videos and pictures- it was all they ever knew of each other, how they fell in love. But how long would this last, pining for each other through plastic screens? But they refuse to leave each other’s lives- even ten years later, when they’re old enough to get married and have stable careers.

Read the extra HERE

I

There were many things about Y/N that Niki admired. He liked her habit of twirling locks of her hair around her finger whenever she spoke nervously, the ritual serving her endearing and beautiful features. He liked how her hair fell to her waist in waves that reminded him of a sunny day on the beach and palm trees with coconuts. He liked the twinkle in her eyes while she spoke to him, myriad anecdotes and jokes hidden behind her irises to share. He liked her fingers, supple and lean while he held them with cautious and almost shaky hands. He also liked her sense of fashion, simple and clean with the smallest pops of vibrant and neon colours that appeared in her jewellery or her shoes.

Then there was her laugh, joyous and juvenile whenever he made a joke yet the back of her hand would always hide her smile, which he imagined was captivating as well. He thought her voice was enchanting, casting some sort of spell on him that made him repeat every syllable she had ever spoken in his head like a beautiful broken tape record; like he had found his new favourite song and would listen to it on repeat until he got sick of it and would wait until he heard her say more sentences that he could repeat in his head. He found it fascinating that she wanted to study planetary sciences once graduating high school, making him realise she was smart and ambitious with great hopes for the future.

He could tell she was a shy girl by the way she would be at a loss of words with some of the things he said. He could also tell that she was the type of person to have very few friends by the way she talked about school and any experiences she thought to mention. He wasn’t judging her, but rather applauding her kind and caring personality, a personality built so graciously out of rose petals and tufts of clouds. He knew, just by the way she listened to him intently with curious eyes, that she was the girl that jumped to help any friend in need. And he also knew that she didn’t have anyone in her life who would be there for her when she needed it, regardless of whether she asked for support or not.

While talking to her, he felt like he was her knight in shining armour. He held her hand between his palms and he felt as though he was protecting her from all the misery anyone would and could bring her throughout the rest of her life. Her violet sundress was suddenly transformed into a period gown and her hair was curled to perfection, styled into what he would imagine princesses and queens used to wear back in the days of royalty. He felt as though they were riding away into the sunset on a horse, hand in hand while her sweet laughter of relief echoed into the background. She looked at him like he was a saviour, her saviour, and he wished to play that character for longer than he would be an idol.

Niki noticed and thought of everything previously mentioned in the span of eight minutes. If he was forced to be precise, it was exactly seven minutes and thirty-eight seconds. It was the total amount of time he had ever spent with her and there was little to no chance he would meet her, or see her, ever again. Because he met Y/N during an off-line fan signing and he found himself being swept off his feet by a simple conversation with a girl almost his age, visiting Korea with her parents for vacation and making use of her only chance to meet the members of her favourite boy group. By his luck, he just so happened to be her favourite member- her bias.

There wasn’t a time in his career of being a kpop idol that he felt insecure. He had always known that he was attractive, fitting the standards of modern male beauty which were enhanced by the mole on his chin and his boxy smile. But that day, after he got home from the fan-signing, Niki spent hours staring at himself in the mirror, brushing his fingers over his chin and nose and jawline, wondering if he truly was attractive and worthy enough to be favorited by Y/N and wondering if she only biased him in their similarities in age and nothing else. His hands carded through his hair, letting it fall messily past his forehead and temples and assessing whether it suited him or not and recalling if the wind had ruined it all while he was talking to her. He hoped and prayed to God, someone he didn’t even believe in, that she didn’t regret meeting him that day and that she was more in love with him by the end of their interaction because he was being himself, saying things most people would say to an old friend with trust and security and comfort. He felt comfortable around her, free like he could be himself without the curse of judgement looming over him. And he smiled freely and naturally with her without the presence of awkwardness like it was with everyone else he met that day. He could sense her aura, this pull about her that made him feel like he could do and say anything in front of her and she wouldn’t think of him any less.

He hoped his judgement of character wasn’t wrong.

Niki was part of a couple of offline fan signings till now. He had met a lot of people- girls who squealed at the sight of him and complimented him every chance they got, but he never met someone like Y/N . He never met anyone that could intrigue and endear them as much as she did, fluster him with a bat of her eyelids and a tilt of her head. He didn't think eyes of curiosity could have such a hold on him, pushing and encouraging him to speak more about himself due to the care and solace that lay underneath. A part of him was convincing himself that he would meet more girls like her as he lived on. He would meet more people like her and make him want to be himself and that people like her could be found anywhere if he simply looked in the right places. But the more he thought about it, the more he realised how that person wouldn’t be Y/N . They wouldn’t have the same hair as her or the same smile, skin, nose and eyes. He just wanted it to be Y/N.

He spent weeks thinking about her, hoping to bump into her every time he walked into a convenience store or travelled past a tourist attraction and looked around to see if he could spot her posing somewhere while her parents took pictures of her. He even bought her a necklace from one of those stalls on the streets, thinking it would be a romantic gesture if he gave it to her the next time he’d see her. But alas, no matter how much he wished to catch another glimpse of her or hear her voice for another second, Y/N was probably back in whichever country she came from and all he was left with was her name and an exchange that lasted seven minutes and thirty-eight seconds.

Between the third week of Niki wishing for Y/N , sadness had crashed into him like a wave, along with the tides of realization that his emotions would forever stay unrequited and unconfessed. He would brood over his schedules and drag himself around with a frown or heavy eyes. His shoulders were often slumped and his enthusiasm while playing video games with Heeseung or Jake disappeared. His only form of distraction and an outlet for his frustration became dancing, as it always had been since he was a child, and he found himself spending extended hours in the dance studio, running and jumping and even yelling throughout choreographies. It was like one day he was a boy filled with so much hope and love and now he was grieving over something that never was.

His change in behaviour didn’t go unnoticed by anyone. The management once scolded him for not showing enough enthusiasm during a V-Live and the rest of the members became officially concerned when he let the chance to make a perfectly timed joke slip by. It was painful watching the boy tut and sneer at things that would normally bring him joy- gaming, food, football and even watching horror movies with Sunoo. Every night he would come home, he would mumble his greetings to anyone else in the house and go straight to bed. Sometimes he'd skip dinner, other times he'd skip breakfast and on days where his schedule was empty, he'd lay in bed all day, watching a show while not even bothering to shower.

It took two days for Jay to beat out a confession from Niki, where he finally cried out his longing for a girl that was equivalent to a stranger. He weeded and sobbed and his eyes grew red and puffy and his body trembled while he dealt with emotions he couldn't understand because it was all so unfamiliar, so unheard of for someone to manifest such deep sentiment towards strangers. Y/N was equivalent to a girl he'd find attractive walking down the street and she was equivalent to any classmate of his he remembered from kindergarten yet here he was, curled up into a ball while his Hyung patted his head and told him that feeling confused and lost was an appropriate reaction to the predicament he put himself in.

The seven of them convinced the management to let them go out for dinner that night. They went to a Korean Barbeque not too far into the city, one which Niki used to always say he wanted to try out. Two guards stood in front of their table, standing high and mighty to make sure no one but the waiters interacted with them. The restaurant was fairly bustling, smoke filling the atmosphere along with the smell of grilled pork and lamb. From the corners of their eyes, they could tell some of the other customers recognised them, feeling sneaky cameras pointing toward them and groups of college students snickering and whispering about their presence.

Niki was talkative after a long time, contributing to whatever topic Jake was spouting about and making fun of Sunghoon when he got the chance. He ate properly after a long time, even accepting when Sunoo reached over the table to feed him enoki mushrooms. He seemed like himself after a long time and he was confiding in them, telling them about Y/N and the little things he could recall about her- her dangly earrings, silver chain around her wrist and neck and pastel yellow nails. Then he told them about his pining for her, how he spent hours trying to look for her on social media and how he carried around the necklace he bought for her in hopes of finding her someday.

“Do you have it with you right now?” Jungwon asked out of curiosity.

Niki nodded, reaching into the pocket of his jeans to pull out a slim silver chain with the pendant of a vibrant sunflower. It reflected against the tube lights hanging above them, twinkling and mirroring shades of yellow onto the white wall. The group was awed at the piece of jewellery, wondering how much it must have cost and hoping it wouldn’t go to waste. They gasped even louder when they were told that he bought it from a street vendor.

“This is stupid, right?” he said as Jungwon took the necklace from him, allowing Jay and Heeseung to admire it with him. “I mean, I’ve only known her for eight minutes and I’m so head over heels for her. Like, I’ve got to be stupid.”

“Yeah, you’re like the twenty-first-century Romeo,” Jake snickered, clicking his chopsticks together before earning a slap on the arm from Sunoo.

“Someone tell me I’m stupid,” Niki drooped his shoulders and looked around the group.

Jay cleared his throat, swallowing the last of his food. “You’re stupid,” he deadpanned and narrowed his eyes.

“Ok, that didn’t help,” Niki rolled his eyes and slumped into his seat.

“Dude, if you wanna get over her, the first thing you need to do is get rid of that necklace,” Sunoo pointed his chopsticks at Niki, a look of promise and determination on his face.

“Why would that work?” Niki asked.

“It’s like a form of cleansing,” Sunoo enthused, his voice softening as his hands. Everyone turned to look at him, some fighting the urge to laugh and others furrowing their brows in confusion. Upon noticing this, Sunoo raised his brows and tutted. “I’m serious! It’s the first step of letting go. Once Niki throws the necklace away, he’ll feel like he doesn’t owe her anything anymore and he can start to slowly move on from her.”

“And where did you get this from?” Sunghoon threw his head back in laughter. “From some k-drama?”

“No,” Sunoo jutted his bottom lip forward, puffing his cheeks. “My sister,” he looked down as though he was embarrassed as the rest of them burst into laughter.

“So you want me to throw this necklace away?” Niki confirmed and Sunoo nodded.

Jake was now holding the necklace, holding it towards the light and admiring it as though it was a crystalline diamond. The petals were a flaxen yellow, its small stem and leaf drenched in lush green. “This is a beautiful necklace, though,” he mumbled but was ignored as everyone was caught up in convincing Niki to throw it away and start anew. They were bustling like bees, arguing and urging in hushed noises so the guards wouldn’t hear while Niki sat silently, appalled by the only choice he was given.

“But what if I do see her again?” He reasoned.

“But do you really think it will happen?” Heeseung asked. “If you wholeheartedly do, then fair enough,” he shrugged.

“A huge part of me knows I’ll never see her again,” Niki sighed, looking to his side. “But I keep hoping that maybe fate will bring us together, you know? Like she’s not the only girl I’ve ever liked but she’s the only girl I’ve ever felt so strongly for. Isn’t it so pathetic of me? Right now, I’m wishing that she’ll walk through that door…”

Just then, the ring of the entry bell cut through Niki’s cinematic speech. For an instant, the entire restaurant ceased to silence and Niki’s gaze drifted towards the door. He first noticed a hand that held the door open, then her hair which was swaying to the side as she looked over her shoulder. Then she stepped into the restaurant, a smile glimmering under white lights and when her face came into view, Niki’s mouth parted, chin gapping as he soaked in the reality of the moment. The rest of the group turned in the direction he was looking, Sunghoon nudging Jake’s side so he would look away from the necklace and at the girl standing three tables away from them. All eyes were on her and Niki was shifting off his chair, slowly standing on his feet with mesmerised eyes and parted lips, an arm lifting so his finger could meekly point towards her.

“Y/N,” he breathed.

By hearing that, Jake’s brows raised, eyes widening with a gaping mouth. His chopsticks pointed at the necklace held in his hand and then at the girl everyone was staring at, his gaze focused on Jungwon who nodded enthusiastically, confirming his doubt. Sunghoon looked between Niki and Y/N , wondering what would happen next and Heeseung looked amazed, thinking about how the boy’s wish practically came true. It was too much of a coincidence, one that would go down the history book of romance. They all might as well be the side characters to a k-drama, watching the hero finally meet the heroine after an unfortunate incident.

“Y/N?” Niki’s head tilted to the side, brows furrowing like he was confused, refusing to accept that after four weeks of looking and wishing and pining she was standing right there, in front of him, under the same roof as him, breathing the same air scents as him.

She was dragging her parents to a table on the other end of the restaurant, a waiter guiding them with welcoming smiles and handing them an English menu. Niki’s eyes followed them as they took their seats. Y/N was smiling like she was on top of the world, hair bouncing around as she talked about something that made her father laugh and her mother shake her head in disappointment. She had on a different pair of earrings, as far as he could see, but she wore the same rings, bracelets and necklace from the last time he saw her.

“Am I dreaming?” Niki said, blinking profusely and pinching himself to feel some sort of sensation- he flinched and yelped in surprise. “Am I seeing things?”

“Is she wearing white jeans and a white tank top with designs of some anime character in red?” Jay raised a brow.

“Yeah.”

“She’s real,” he patted Niki’s back twice.

“Y/N!” Niki snatched the necklace away from Jake’s hand and sped away from the table. Sunghoon and Jungwon called out for him but nothing but her laugh was audible to him as he jogged towards her with no clear aim or plan in his head.

He didn’t know what he was going to say to her and he didn’t know how he was going to introduce himself to her parents without sounding like a love-struck idiot. All he knew was that he was impatient to speak to her again, to hear her words directed towards him and hear her laugh at his jokes and pick-up lines. His wishes were finally coming true, all the energy he spent drooping and whining over finally becoming worth something and as he came closer to her, his smile grew wider, a youthful excitement hovering over his head as his heart beat faster than it did while performing in front of a crowd of millions.

His signature boxy smile appeared on his face when he finally reached her table, chest heaving up and down as he tried catching his breath. Y/N noticed him with wide eyes, a tinge of fear flashing across her eyes when her parents turned their heads to find a tall boy dressed in swanky clothes with styled hair. “Niki?” She said, stunned by his presence.

“Hi,” he said, waving his hand at the group of three.

“Who are you?” Her father pointed a mean finger at him, silently asking him to walk away.

“Is he from that boy band you went to meet?” Her mother spoke softly, eyes darting between her dumbfounded daughter and awkward celebrity that was equivalent to a stranger.

“Yeah, he is,” Y/N cleared her throat. “You’re… why? How? I don’t even know what to say… why are you here?”

“I need to talk to you,” Niki said, frankly. He gulped down a lump in his throat while he tried ignoring the flashing glares her father gave him.

“What is going on?” He demanded.

“I don’t know!” Y/N brought her palms to her temples, feeling a rush of blood flow to her cheeks in embarrassment.

“Please?” Niki met Y/N ’s eyes for the first time that night and time seemed to slow for a second. His eyes were glassy, her words stuck in her throat.

“Yeah,” she cleared her throat and hastily apologised to her parents. “I’ll be back.”

Niki pulled Y/N out of the restaurant by her hand and she followed him while almost tripping on her feet. They stood near one of the windows, looking at one another for a few seconds, pacing around their feet. It was chilly and she shivered, teeth clattering as she wrapped her arms around herself. To keep her mind distracted from the fact that she was standing in front of her idol, her celebrity crush, she thought about how she should have listened to her mother and worn something with full sleeves and gotten a jacket.

“Are you cold?” He asked while removing his trench coat. “Here,” he said, handing it to her, comfortably standing in the cold with a shirt and knitted vest.

“Niki… what is all this?” She took the jacket from him, gaze not leaving his as she put it on and hugged it against her torso. “Normally, I would take a minute to be talking to you because you’re a kpop star and all that and honestly, any girl would be freaking out at the moment and even I am internally but I’m also really confused because you still remember my name and I didn’t think you would remember my name because you have more important things to remember and it’s really an honour-”

“You’re blabbering,” Niki grinned, tilting his head downwards so he could get a better look at her. He was towering over her, his hair falling onto his forehead and hands stuffed into his pockets to form an infatuated aura about him. She was also intimidated by him, her nerves only being eased by the jacket covering her arms. “Do you do that when you’re nervous?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, chewing the inside of her cheek. She was fighting the urge to meddle with her hair because if she did, then the jacket would loosen around her and she would feel cold. Instead, she would occasionally brush stray strands of her hair away from her hair.

“That’s alright. And please, call me Riki instead”

Niki didn’t know what to say anymore. The girl of practically his dreams was standing in front of him and he had all the freedom to do or say whatever he wanted but he didn’t know how to. He was shy, even embarrassed by his emotions as he looked at the girl in front of him, wondering how he was going to explain what he had been feeling for the past four weeks. From the corner of his eyes, he saw the rest of his members trying to stealthily peek at the pair from the window and he almost scowled.

She noticed the change in his expression and she looked over to find that all of them were there. Jay and Sunghoon were seated closest to the window so she could see them clearly eyeing them, observing their every move. Behind them were Jake, Sunoo and Jungwon and she could catch a glimpse of Heeseung nudging himself closer to the window so he could watch what the youngest of them was doing and acting. Realising that Y/N had caught them peeping, they all turned away and attempted to pretend like they had been eating and minding their own business all along.

“Oh, God,” she said, turning back to him in panic. “This just makes me more nervous. They’re all watching? Holy shit-”

“No, no, don’t worry,” Niki frantically shook his hands in front of him. “You don’t need to be nervous, they don’t mean any harm. I can take you to meet them if you’d like?”

“No, that’s really not necessary,” she chuckled awkwardly. “I’m a bit too shy for that.”

“It’s alright,” he said. “They all still remember talking to you during that fan signing, too.”

“Really?” she awed.

“Yeah, really.”

“It’s a miracle I’m not freaking out right now,” she grinned, leaning her head to the side. “So, why did you want to speak to me anyway?”

“Well,” Niki started, looking to his feet as he formed his words in his head.

“What is it?” She urged.

“I don’t know how to put this easily.”

“Well, then, just say it how you’re comfortable with it. You dragged me outside so you might as well just say it,” she chuckled with comforting eyes, her toothy smile soothing his nerves.

“Y/N , I really like you.”

Niki didn’t know how he let the words roll off his tongue so nonchalantly but he supposed his confidence made him look more attractive. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and darted his eyes around the changes in her face. Her brows slowly raised as she comprehended his words and her eyelids fluttered before her eyes grew to the size of baseballs. Her mouth opened and closed in repeat like she wanted to say something or spew out words of puzzlement but she couldn’t bring herself to. In the end, she was a stuttering mess, eyes glued to him and scared to shift her gaze.

“And I’d really like it if we could meet again tomorrow,” Niki added, in hopes of getting an answer from her.

There was a loud silence that followed. Y/N ’s mouth zipped shut and she pushed another lump of dread down her throat. A breeze blew past them, swaying their hair and bringing a few dried leaves to circle around them. It truly felt as though they were transported into a cliche scene from a romantic k-drama where the hero and heroine would be caught up in some quarrel but would end their argument by confessing their feelings for each other. But this was reality, as much as it felt like a dream, and the universe usually worked against the bigger pictures they dreamt for themselves.

“Riki, I’m leaving tomorrow.”

II

In the five years Niki worked as a kpop idol, he had met many people from celebrities and influential members of politics and media to the fans that he adored so much and in those five years, Y/N was the only friend he made that wasn’t part of his group. He had known her for a little over three years, their friendship solely based on physical interactions that lasted a whopping seventeen minutes, texts that went on for days and calls that started in the middle of the night and ended by sunrise. At the end of every day, despite their differences in time zones, they would text each other about their days, giving each other an insight into the most mundane details of their schedules and families. If Niki wasn’t tired and if Y/N was free, they would call during his night and her afternoon, sometimes watching a movie together or talking about something that would be deemed irrelevant the next hour.

Calls and texts were rare and if it weren’t for Y/N ’s patience and understanding nature, they probably wouldn’t even be friends. She cherished every moment she could spend with him, caring for him in the only form she could through the plastic screens of her phone and laptop. She would check on him every once in a while, listen to him when he ranted about homesickness or the hecticness of his schedule and she even sent him care packages every six months. The sunflower pendant he bought for her all those months ago never left her neck and the jacket he let her borrow would be on her shoulders every time winter came. Niki would update her about his day through random pictures and snippets of videos he would take in between work and travelling. He also had a habit of sending terribly long voice notes filled with conversations between him and some of the other members. There was a bracelet of hers that she had given him the last time they met. The black and white beads stayed on his wrist no matter where he went or what he was wearing. It was little things like such that kept them close despite the distance between them and despite going days or weeks without speaking sometimes. They had the type of friendship that people wished they had, the type of friendship teenagers would grow jealous over.

Yet, Niki was always disappointed with how their relationship never progressed from friends.

In all honesty, he knew they would never work out as a couple. His career in the kpop industry strengthened and monumented by the day and he was already starting to make plans for his future for the days when he wouldn't be performing on stage and recording albums anymore. There lay a lot of pressure on his shoulders, along with odds stacked against his hopes for finding love. Y/N was fully focused on building herself a career in astronomy, studying extra hours and assisting as her professor's subordinate. She even worked internships, her talent and knowledge solidifying her career before she even graduated college. There was still a long road of schools and programs she had to finish before she could call her career something to be proud of and getting into a relationship, especially one that was online, would be a risk for both of them.

There were things they expected and needed from a significant other that they couldn't offer each other through texts and calls, which weren't even as consistent as they would like them to be. They wouldn't be able to go on dates and get to know how they would act if they were physically in front of each other. They wouldn't be able to hug, hold hands or kiss as normal couples do. They wouldn't be able to console each other on bad days because sometimes, words and random memes pulled from Pinterest just weren't enough.

So, despite how much they hated it, they would stay friends, online friends, until some miracle brought Y/N to Korea or Niki to America, where she was studying.

There were times Niki would hope he would find another fan to fall in love with the way he found Y/N . During meet and greets, he would cautiously and meticulously plan questions to ask the people that came to meet him in hopes of replacing the emptiness Y/N had left in his heart. But there was no other like her. He met girls that were bold and confident and he met girls that were smart enough to graduate from all the Ivy leagues. He even met girls that were sweet and kind and didn't have the heart to hurt a fly but they weren't Y/N and they didn't have her smile or that particular twinkle in their eyes and he had eventually given up.

"You know I've always loved you."

Niki was hiding under the covers, pressing his phone between his ear and the pillow and speaking in hushed whispers so he wouldn't wake his Hyungs. It was past one am for him and Y/N had just gotten back to her dorm after spending a day in the research lab with a classmate. They were both tired but could muster up enough energy to call for the first time again in a month. She moved to stand on her balcony, letting warm air hit her wind as she held her phone to her cheek.

"I know, Riki," she breathed. "You know I love you too."

"I've been thinking of all the possibilities of us being together and I just can't see it happening unless one of us sacrifices our careers."

She could hear his voice crack, soft whispers becoming broken mumbles as he continued speaking. She would be lying if she hadn't thought the same but she had always put it off, hoping for some miracle to take place so that one day she would find herself in his arms, put each other to sleep and waking each other up to the rays of sunshine protruding through curtains. But that would never happen, just like how they would never have their first hug, first kiss or first date together. Not now, at least.

"I've thought about it too," she twirled a lock of her hair around her finger and leaned against the railings. "We've talked about us getting into a relationship before. We know it's not a good idea. I'm fine staying just the way we are, you know?"

"I know, Y/N ," he sniffled. "But there's only so long either of us can wait for the impossible to happen, right?"

"What are you getting at?"

"I don't want to be hurt anymore over you and I don't want you wasting your hopes over me either."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm trying to say that if I end up finding someone else that I like, I'm going to try and move on and I think you should do the same."

Whenever Niki would go through an exceptionally bad day, he would put himself to sleep by watching a funny video of Y/N that he'd saved in his gallery. Some were videos of herself that she sent, shot by one of her friends while she said something comedic or did something regrettable. Other videos were filmed by himself, screen recordings of their video calls together while she did something stupid and childish for the sake of passing time or making laughter. These videos would usually wipe the tears or frown off his face and have him fall asleep with a smile but he didn't bother to do that after he hung up the phone with her that night. He roughly shoved his phone under his blanket and buried his face in his pillow, a string of sobs and cries muffled into it while he punched his clenched fists into the mattress.

He had awoken everyone at one point, yelling a string of profanities that made his Hyungs jump out of bed and run to his aid. He cried minimally but the salt tracks on his cheeks looked permanent. His hand stuck to the area over his chest where his heart resided, complaining about the fact that it physically hurt and taking painkillers didn't help him either. Jay and Heeseung sat with him until the sun rose, keeping him distracted with as much conversation as they could and even offered to play a game of football in the hall if he was interested.

The next two months were filled with minimal texts and pictures from his side. While she would blow up his phone with texts and pictures of updates about her life, he would respond with a few emojis and a short text explaining how his day was tiring and repetitive just like any other. He didn't send any pictures or voicemails and when they called, he barely spoke sentences that contributed to any conversation. When she found out from Jake that it wasn't just her he was acting depressed around, she yelled at him and gave him a piece of her mind until he came around and got over himself, finally coming back to his enthusiastic antics on the third month.

Life went on that way. Whatever priority he had given Y/N had shifted towards his career and whatever hopes she had for him had diminished. She still wore the necklace he gave her and he still wore the bracelet she gave him. She still used his jacket but care packages rarely went his way. They still texted but only once in a while as though they talked to each other for the sake of it. Their calls barely lasted for a few minutes because sometimes he would be busy touring and other times she would be busy with exams. So they resorted to sending voicemails to each other but only once in a while and soon, conversations were nonexistent.

“What happened to us?”

Y/N was in tears that night and she called him because she missed him. She missed her best friend and she missed how he cared about what happened in her day. She missed being excited to update him about her days regardless of whether they were boring or eventful. She missed sending him pictures and she missed how he used to appreciate her effort in the care packages she sent him or the random compliments or flattery he would text her. She simply missed him- being around him, talking to him, being able to crack jokes and laugh with him for hours about nothing in particular. But a part of her knew it wouldn’t be easy to go back to how they used to be.

“I don’t know, Y/N .”

“I miss my best friend,” she sobbed. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too, Y/N ,” Niki pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, fighting the tears that pooled in his eyes. “I’m really sorry.”

“I’m trying so hard but you’re not putting any effort and it feels like you don’t care. So, it just makes me want to do nothing and say nothing to you.”

“I’m trying too but I’ve been busy and you know that, Y/N .”

“Riki, even I’m busy. But I’m still trying, aren’t I?”

“I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I’m trying, too. I’m sorry.”

III

Seven years later, Y/N received a letter from Niki.

“I’m getting married,” it read in his handwriting. “And you better be there.”

Along with the note came a wedding invitation. It was a navy blue card with intricate designs printed in white and in the middle of it read “NIKI WEDS JOCELYN” in bold italics. Then, there was the RSVP card which asked if she was attending or not; if so, would she bring a plus one? It was simple for her to answer but she pondered whether to even attend the wedding. Buying plane tickets to Seoul, Korea wasn’t the issue but flying there meant taking a holiday from lectures at the university and if she wasn’t sure it was worth the sacrifice. She wasn’t sure if she had it in her to face Niki for the first time in forever. Even though they had a reason to meet again, to have her fly to where he was so they could finally meet, especially when he requested for her there, she didn’t think she wanted to take that opportunity.

Niki told her about Jacelyn a few years ago. It was a meaningless mention like she meant the equivalent to a coffee he drank that day. Y/N didn’t think much of the fact that he rarely ever talked about her. In the beginning, she thought their relationship must have started off smooth and loving but as time went on and when she didn’t hear her name again, she assumed they had separated. Staring at the wedding invitation in her hands, she didn’t know if she was supposed to feel surprised that his first relationship turned out to be his last or hurt by the fact that he never shared anything insightful about the girl he clearly loved so much.

Y/N didn’t know how their friendship was salvaged for such an extended period of time. Over the years, texting and calling became taboo between them. Instead, they would email each other. It was a ritual of long and chained emails they didn’t plan on breaking. They would write them once every few months, detailing the things they deemed were important to mention about themselves and she was surprised he didn’t mention the importance of his fiancee. She didn’t know when he proposed and she didn’t know how they met and she didn’t even know if it would make a difference if she attended the wedding or not.

She supposed he stopped mentioning Jocelyn for the sake of not hurting her. To be fair, Y/N wasn’t detailing her encounters of rendezvous with other men and various other love interests in her life to him either. Yet the difference was that the men in her life were flings, drifting in and out of days like clouds passing over her head whereas Jocelyn was Niki’s sun, a permanent aspect that would continue to cheer him on through day and night.

Nishimura Riki was now the proud owner of his own dance studio. He had twenty employees working under him and two hundred students learning under his aid, dreaming to be the next best dancer of Korea or another kpop star like he once used to be. He was also a brand ambassador for Prada and Bvlgari and producer for the talk show Jay and Jungwon had started hosting a while back. He needed someone like Jocelyn to cheer him on and support him and she could give him things Y/N never could.

Because, in the end, love wasn’t enough of a reason for Y/N to abandon her studies and start a life with a boy who didn’t know how to treat her the way she deserved. Love wasn’t enough for Niki to abandon his dreams and build a family with a girl who couldn’t offer him what he needed.

On the RSVP card, she ticked that she would attend without a plus one.

Y/N didn’t get a chance to meet Niki before the wedding began. Instead, the first time she saw him in person after almost ten years was while he was standing beside the priest in tears while he watched Jocelyn walk down the aisle. He listened to him recite his vows, his sweet words sounding so familiar to her because they were words he used to utter to her when they were sixteen, naive and infatuated with the confusion of lust and attraction. Now they were twenty-seven, burdened with wisdom they wished they didn’t have and experiences they wished they could wipe away. They wished they could be sixteen again and make the mistake of falling in love with the wrong person because, at the time, it was the best kind of high they could find.

After the ceremony was complete, Y/N walked around with curious eyes and the jacket he had given her all those years ago. It was old and wrinkled and no matter how many times she had given it to the dry-cleaners, she accepted that the loose strings and dried curry stains could never be fixed. She saw the previous ENHYPEN members walking around, talking amongst themselves or enjoying a glass of wine. Sunoo was the best man and he had the pleasure of greeting all the guests- she wondered why none of them approached her. She quickly realised that to them, she was just a stranger. She was someone no one knew, forgotten with ancient history and replaced by the better.

Niki no longer wore the bracelet she gave him. She wondered when he had thrown it away while she played with the sunflower pendant that continued to hang from her neck. She pondered leaving without bothering to greet the boy, to remain without the joy of being able to meet an old friend. They were only physically around each other for seventeen minutes, it would be alright if they kept it that way.

But he came jogging towards her with wide eyes and two glasses of wine held in his hands. He had that boxy smile plastered across his face, chest heaving with excitement as he stood in front of her. Deja vu washed over them, reminiscing about the time they had met in that Korean Barbeque restaurant all those years ago when he jogged up to her and her parents and gifted her the necklace that was now a relic of their history.

“I gave you that jacket to keep, you know? Not to return it on my wedding day.”

“It’s the first time we’re seeing each other in ten years and that’s the first thing you have to say to me?”

Nervous would be an understatement to describe what both of them were feeling at that moment. The wine glasses held in his hands could be seen shaking and her heart was beating loud enough for half of the guests to hear. Yet, they shrugged with awkward smiles on their faces and leaned forward, wrapping their arms around each other for the first time but it didn’t feel that way. It didn’t feel as special and cherished as they expected it to feel but rather normal and common.

“That was our first hug, huh?” Niki chuckled and she took a glass of wine from him.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” She scrunched her nose.

“It’s weird that it doesn’t feel weird.”

They clinked their glasses together and took the first sip.

Jocelyn walked towards them, her beautifully curled brown hair bouncing off her shoulders and dazzling hazel eyes smiling brighter for her instead of her lips. She was gorgeous and she started jumping around when she realised she was in the presence of Y/N , the girl Niki would talk about and praise all the time. It came as a shock to Y/N , looking between the married couple with a gaped mouth and a million thoughts running through her head.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t talk about you with her or the rest of the members?”

“None of them seem to remember me, though.”

“Oh, they remember you. I just don’t think they remember what you look like.”

Jocelyn left the pair to talk alone so she could tend to the rest of the guests. Y/N and Niki were left sipping on their unfinished wine, one replaying the events of the last few minutes and the other reminiscent of the last decade of their lives. He could still list out things that he admired about her. For instance, now, he didn’t feel the need to force out any conversation and he didn’t feel awkward now that they were meeting for the first time. He could admire her forever, not as a lover but rather as a friend because that was all they could ever be. He had a wife now and he was settled in life and Y/N was the person that had seen him grow and mature through the many stages of his life.

“You still wear that necklace,” he observed.

“Never took it off, Riki,” she pursed her lips. “And you stopped wearing my bracelet?”

“Yeah, I took it off a while back.”

“Nice.”

“It was my way of moving on, Y/N .”

She wasn’t angry, per se. Perhaps a little hurt, which manifested in the form of a pang in her chest but she accepted it in seconds, moving on from the pain and concentrating on the flavours of wine that sloshed around her tongue. Niki noticed that she was tapping her foot to the floor, almost as if she were impatient for something; he realised that her habit of twirling her hair around her finger was lost.

“I don’t think I stopped loving you until after I met Jocelyn.”

Y/N was probably the last guest to leave. Despite Niki and Jocelyn’s pleas for her to stay another night so they could go out for dinner and perhaps bond over lost time, she still hailed a cab to take her away to the airport. On her way there, she solemnly rested her head on the window, weakly chuckling when she realised that they had driven past the infamous Korean Barbeque she and Niki met at. She could almost relive the moment, see herself and him standing outside the restaurant while six other boys tried rubber-necking in their conversation.

Now that she was looking back, those memories were worthy enough to be laughed about. It was ancient history but it didn’t rip open a wound whenever it was talked about and she could accept that she wasn’t enough for her first love and her first love wasn’t enough for her.

She accepted that he got married and would start a family soon and she accepted that the next time they would meet again would probably be at her own wedding.

[elysiality]

hii could i please request reader comforting nat (established relationship) who is struggling with the stress of being the group leader?? maybe just being really soft and sweet with her and cuddling her and insisting she comes inside their shelter to rest, and nat just ends up completely lying on top of her? does nat let out everything she’s struggling with or does she just appreciate some silence with the girl she loves? idk anything like that im just CRAVING nat comfort rn after everything she’s been through 💔💔

wiege - nat scatorccio

"Do you even know what time it is?"

"No." she answers immediately, "and neither do you."

──────────────────────────

-> pairing/s - nat scatorccio x reader

-> warnings !! - hurt/comfort, nat crying :(, mentions of shauna shipman, brief mentions of cannibalism, come on guys this is yellowjackets you know the drill

you frown as you glance outside for what seems to be the eighth time .

you aren't sure what time of the day is— the sun can only do so much when it's not in the sky— but it's not a time of the day even your little freak group in the woods is usually up and around at.

yet, your own girlfriend sits outside, staring blankly into space. she's supposed to be portioning the rations, something she took over from Shauna after some snide remarks on her leadership and duties, but she sits still as a statue, hunched over on her log.

she's been staying up later and later every night and it's starting to show. none of you are particularly looking good, nothing to win a beauty pageant, but Nat's started to look rougher with each passing day. the bags under her eyes have grown heavy, her face has lost any trace of baby fat it once had, instead replaced by gaunt outlines of cheekbones.

her eyes are what disturb you the most. a hollow, haunted look inhibits them at all times, none of that mischevious spark you found glinting in them when you still had a normal life anywhere to be seen.

your life is far from normal, of course, you can't imagine any other teenagers are staying up late in the woods, taking turns to keep guard from any apex predators deciding that your village looks like a good place to get a meal, but the eroded look in the eyes of your lover is something that hurts to look at.

she's been the spark in the darkness to the other girls. after the cabin burnt down, she took charge like the queen she was made into. she led the girls in building the huts, using every girl's talent to the fullest. she staked out the animals that Akilah started a breeding farm with and she was the one who buried the bones of the deceased.

out of everyone, only you see the toll it's starting to take on her. the occasional tear that slips out before she wipes it away. the constant shuffling and moaning in her sleep when she does give in to her tiredness. the way she speaks— quieter, calmer now than her normal, brazen personality. she's sacrificing herself to give everything to this role that's been forced onto her and the stress is destroying her.

tonight, you've had enough. you get off your threadbare cot and stomp out of your hut. Nat startles, her hands instinctively coming to shield her body before she realises who it is. her alert posture sinks about a foot and she looks up at you sullenly, turning back to her meat table.

"You should go to sleep. It's getting late." she mutters distractedly, starting to push the chunks on the table around, more playing with her food than anything else.

"I could apply that same logic to you." you point out. "Do you even know what time it is?"

"No.", she answers immediately, "and neither do you."

you huff. smartass habits die hard. somehow, not one of the several people on your plane— dead or alive, were carrying watches. go figure.

"Look up at the sky, Nat. I judge it to be nobody-should-stay-up-this-late-unless-they-want-to-encounter-ghosts'o clock."

she blinks in surprise and looks up at the night sky, seemingly blindsided by the few stars twinkling in the sky next to the moon. her eyes almost light up at the sight of stars— as it's becoming colder and colder, they've all started to disappear— but that light quickly fades when she turns back to the table. "It doesn't matter. I'm shirking my duties."

you grip her jaw and pull her face up to meet yours. for a split second, the stars give her the spark she lost. but even then, it seems unnatural. because it's not her.

"You're also shirking your rest. We need to keep our strength up." she scoffs, rolling her eyes.

"Maybe. But I've still got this pile of food to sort through and then I have to pour water into that little pond for the ducks—" she starts blubbering out her duties, blinking rapidly as though trying to shake the sleep off herself.

you spin her back around, gripping both her bare shoulders. she stops mid-rant, her chapped lips pressing together in a pout. "All that can be done tomorrow and by other people." you say firmly. "We have chore distribution for a reason."

she falters, before meeting your eyes again, stubborn and determined to completely ruin whatever was left of her sleep schedule. "Well, what if something comes into the village? I know how to use the gun—" "And you're not the only one." you finish for her. she stares at you blankly.

"Gen and Travis are on the night watch, remember?"

chocolate brown eyes dart around the silent village nervously, as if searching for a reason to ruin whatever little rest you forced on her. "Shauna will kill me if I don't—" she starts off, but her voice is slightly less forced. you pounce on the opportunity.

"No, she won't. Because you're in charge, as much as she hates it. The others would jump her before she gets a chance."

you can see her resistance crumbling away, little by little. her eyes soften, just slightly. her shaking hands scrape off the table and fall to her side.

"Besides, Lottie would probably curse her with some voodoo wilderness magic if Shauna tried anything on her beloved queen." you snark. that gets a small, dry chuckle out of Nat and you relish in the victory.

you drop to your knees in front of Nat, holding both her grimy hands in your own. she looks down at you, as if holding in the urge to start bawling like a little kid. Nat has always been one to hold back her emotions.

a set of big, brown eyes stare at you, reflective, like a cat's, shaking with unshed tears. every bone in her body aches with exhaustion. her eyes burn from the lack of rest. "Come to bed. Please. No one needs you tonight but me." you plead with her, bringing her hands to your chest.

you see the exact moment she crumbles. the alert posture finally slumps over, nearly falling forward onto the table. her hands, once limp, grip onto yours tightly, scrabbling for purchase. her entire face relaxes— she's probably been waiting for you to drag her stubborn ass to sleep for days.

her mouth drops open slightly, like she can't help it. a small, squeaky noise leaves her throat— a tiny animal dying. it continues in series, and she presses one of her hands to her mouth, trying to stiffle the pitiful noises with the back of her hand. it doesn't work.

you gaze at her in empathy, rubbing small, soothing circles over the palm of her free hand with your thumb.

you've been there before. that heavy, heaving feeling in your chest, the dry wracking sobs that translate into small noises because the tears don't come.

she's so exhausted that she can't bring herself to cry.

you stand up, half-heartedly trying to brush copious amounts of dust from your clothes before taking your girlfriend's hand. you lead her into the silence of your hut, sitting her down on the woolen cot. privacy is a rare thing to get, but she's privileged enough to have it.

you lay down on the cot, patting the space next to you. she tries to lay there, she really does, but her knees give out and she lands right on top of you with a slight 'oomph' sound, muttering a hasty apology.

you let her stay there, knowing that pushing her off will probably take ten years off your already shortened life span.

your hand goes to card through her coarse hair. the shampoo ran out in the first couple of days— weeks, months? you aren't sure. you stopped keeping track of the time after winter came. what's the use of it? the rest of your humdrum life will wile away here, eating each other to survive.

the dark brown strands are rough and fine, like running your hand through sandpaper, but you do it anyway. you aren't one to judge. the hygeine and selfcare aspect of the whole situation is something all of you gave up on, save the occasional baths in the lake.

her natural hair colour is starting to show at the roots, something the old Nat would've never let happen. she hated having any connection to who she was before she joined the Yellowjackets. before her father died. you know she feels insecure about it, but you've assured her time and time again that it looks cool. you're not sure she believes you.

a beat of silence, then—

"it's getting colder." comes a muffled voice from the crook of your neck.

"I know.", you respond, tapping out patterns on her head.

"winter is coming."

"i know."

"...I'm scared."

"I know, Nat." you stare off blankly into space, out into the common area of the village, where mist has started to condense, where you've slowly started to pile on more and more clothes onto your body in preparation, where Akilah has started trying to breed out the animals faster.

there's nothing you can do. you've long since resigned yourself to your fate. no one is coming for you. you're alone. winter after winter will come and you'll be stuck here forever, while the rest of the world goes on. your parents think you're dead. your friends have gone onto college, attending parties and preparing to follow their career paths. even young Allie probably graduated by now. lucky girl. the world has moved on without you.

what life would be waiting for you if you went home now?

Nat calls your name and you snap out of your trance. "Yeah?", you ask her, distracted by how squeaky your voice sounds.

"Where do you think we would be if we were home by now?", she asks again and your heart clenches painfully at how soft her voice sounds. you're suddenly pushed back to young Nat, silent through her dad's funeral, and then breaking down in your arms afterwards. she sounds like a kid.

where would you be right now? if you had gone to nationals as planned, won as planned and come back to the small, backwater town of Wiskayok to live out a normal, teenage life?

"i- i don't know." no matter how hard you wrack your brains, you come up blank. any memory of home you had is starting to fade. the wilderness is your home now. it's the only thing you know and the only thing you will ever know now.

"We've been here so long, I haven't even- even thought of what life back home would be like..", you realise out loud, stilling your hand movements.

"Same.", she sighs. she raises her head, and two black, pearlescent eyes scan your face. "Normalcy? Why, I hardly know her."

you giggle at that, before your ability to dies down. she drops her head into your neck again. she's had it just as hard as you have, if not harder. she needs you right now, just as much as you need her, and this pretense of a regular life.

you choke down your emotions, like you've learned to do out here. "Well, for starters, we'd still be dating.", you start off, starting to run your hands through her hair again. "You're never getting rid of me now." that earns you a quiet laugh and you keep going, emboldened by the brusque noise.

"we'd move in together— a college dorm or an apartment, maybe." she snorts, her hand finding yours and tangling her fingers with your own. "and what makes you think I'd share a room with you?"

you rap the back of her head playfully and she groans. "No one else would be able to handle you, idiot." "True.", she defers to you gracefully.

"What else?" you can hear the small tinge of urgency that changes the cadence of her voice. the need to pretend that this is normal. that your fantasy is real.

"well, you'd join the soccer team, if they have one. I, personally, would skimp on the extra-curriculars side of things unless it's by my own volition." You pause, letting her squeeze your hand for comfort. your throat is getting parched, but you ignore it. you've gone without water for far longer. "Maybe learn to knit or something." she scoffs. "Oh please. Like you'd have the patience for that." you hit the back of her head again and she winces, muttering a half-assed apology into your neck.

"and I'd come to every game, and cheer you on. We'd get away from Wiskayok, far, far away— maybe go back once a month. And we'd do well in classes— and I'd make you sleep on the floor if I found out you relapsed."

"Not a single moment of joy.", she grouses and you poke the small of her back, making her wiggle and giving you the impression of having a rather frenetic mannequin on top of you.

"And then....", you trail off, unsure of how to continue this delusion. it's been so long, you've lost all thoughts of creature comforts. it's hard not to, when one of your chores involves emptying the piss bucket in the village. "We'd live normal lives.", Nat completes for you.

"Yeah.", you agree. "And then we'd live normal, boring, 9-5 lives, sitting on a beat-up couch every night, tuning in to watch X-files with a six pack of beer."

in comparison to your current situation, even that sounds like paradise.

you begin to hum. you're not sure where this sudden urge to sing your heart out to the audience of crickets and your depressed girlfriend comes from, but it happens anyway.

it's a sweet song. maybe you've heard it on a radio. maybe someone sang it to you once— your mom, or your grandpa, perhaps. you aren't sure. you aren't sure of much of anything, anymore. it's not concert-worthy, but it's calming. a song about the sea and the wind and peace— a lullaby sung to an angsty child.

it seems to work on your girlfriend too, who seems for all the world like an antsy kid right now. she slumps over onto you, tired muscles slowly relaxing, her hand growing loose in yours, her ragged breathing easing up.

you continue your song, singing to the best of your dry-throated abilities, till you hear the telltale, quiet snore that signals that Nat's fallen asleep. you smile, a small, trembling smile, pressing a kiss to her hair.

you take her frigid hand in yours and squeeze. you're sure of her, atleast.

that's one thing you hope never changes, despite all the wishing you've done for another life, the wish to be in someone else's shoes. you hope she'll always be there.

you squirm under her a bit till you find a comfortable position, managing to safely roll her off you and next to you instead. you hug her close, burying yourself in her neck.

thank the gods that you've gotten desensitised to the smell. all that reaches your nose is the scent of her now. just her. that rough-around-the-edges, pine scent you've always insisted lingers around her.

sleep comes easier to you that night. a dreamless, peaceful sleep like you've never had before.

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a/n: ohh my god, my shayla....my shaylaaa.... nat scatorccio, my beloved patron saint of poor decisions...

requests are open for all yellowjackets girls, dead or alive !