#been raining lightly here all day yet the sun would come out and then it would get all dark again in like 20 minute intervals

[northwestofinsanity]

What a mood…

[catiuskaa]

spots on.

SUMMARY: you. hannie. embraces. hugs. cuddles, and other synonyms. desperately needed by yesterday. complaints will be declined and ignored.

REQUESTED! by lovely annonie right here. and god you are so right, fluff + hannie is a clinical need, dare I say biblical! ㅠㅠ<3

CW: you might need a dentist appointment for this one. teeth rotting stuff. i assure you.

WC: 1.1k

A/N: so i’m back from the dead and haven’t written anything since february’s special and have been real low lately. thought fluffy hannie could cheer all of us up! <3

[☆🔹🫂🔹☆]

Han loved watching romantic movies by himself.

It’s not like he didn’t have anyone to watch them with. He had watched plenty of shows either with you or any of the boys.

But ever since he started writing and composing lyrics, a little before he got into college, there was something about those cheesy series that had him unable to stop watching.

His eyes would glow as he stared at the screen before him while he watched, invested in how the protagonist accidentally tripped and fell against the love interest, all over again. Giggling and kicking his feet when they held hands after hours upon hours straight of watching them bicker. Having his chest tightening because the actors were so good that he could almost feel the stars in his eyes, shining just for her.

Jisung loved those old-fashioned scenes. Dancing in the rain, a silly meet cute in a book shop… countless places for one silly little emotion.

Han couldn’t see it, but he also had stars in his eyes. He blinked, feeling his eyes lightly itchy, realizing he had been watching you sleep.

Not in a creepy way, of course. After all, you had wanted to stay over to finish one of the many assignments you two had to do together for some of the mandatory subjects in both of your majors. He sighed, his eyes weirdly fixated on your figure, unable to stop looking at you. Even while sleeping, there was a certain grace to you, as if you were just resting peacefully after a long day. He snorted upon realizing that your face was pressed against the pages of the book, a sneaky drop of drool coming out of your mouth. You looked so cute.

“Get a grip, Han,” he mumbled to himself, shaking his head with a smile, giggling.

He rubbed his eyes, staring back to what he had been drafting the past hours. It was clearly obvious that his sleepiness was getting to him, because it was getting harder to decipher what the characters he was typing meant.

Suddenly, there was a hand lightly scratching your back.

You flinched in your place, sitting back up.

“It’s just me,” Han said softly. You blinked so slowly it almost looked like you had blinked one eyelid at a time.

“…awake. ‘M awake.” You brushed off drool from the corner of your mouth, to which Jisung chuckled lightly.

“Okay, sleepyhead. Time to go to bed.”

“Eh?”

“Bed, silly. We should have some sleep. We’re both doozing off.”

Bed? Judging by the time that the clock in Han’s apartment said, it was far from being that late, which was proved true when Hannie picked you up —God knows how, because he showed no signs of struggling— and brought the “sleepyhead” over to his room, that even after turning off the lamp on the bedside table, the windows let in light that the Sun had yet to take away while leaving space for the Moon to beam in a couple of hours.

He grunted lowly when he laid you down on the bed, which had little to do with your weight and much more with how you pulled him towards you.

“Hannie.” You mumbled sleepily.

“You’re close to cranky,” he smiled. “You haven’t had your coffee, and you fell asleep doing our assignment.” He sighed, moving stray hairs off your face, his hand lingering on its side, stroking your cheek. “Wouldn’t want to get on your cranky side.” Jisung teased with a tenderness only showed in your presence, not in his usual teasing, not with the rest of the world. Somehow, time spent with Han seemed like the world itself stopped spinning, waiting for you two and catch up later.

“…no.” You whined. His hand still rested on your face. Unusual. You didn’t want him to move it. “I don’t want to steal your bed.”

Unconciously, you moved closer to the warmth that his palm brought.

“It’s ok. You came here walking, and there’s no way I’m letting you leave now, not at this time.”

You frowned at him, almost pouting. You purposefuly resigned to argue, sleepily accepting his win over a silly discusion you could’ve won. But it was much better if it meant that he would keep being so… tender. You two were dating, yes, but it was quite strange, because even if you both knew about each other’s feelings, staying together had been more of a silent agreement.

Yet in that moment, seeing him smile, dark boba coloured eyes sheepishly and momentarily hidden by it, turning them into happy crescent-shaped moons, it was easy to figure asking was worth a shot.

“…stay w’me?”

His heart skipped more beats than he could count.

This hadn’t been planned. Well. Certainly not this way.

“Stay?” His tone of voice had lowered.

You hummed, smiling lightly. Your hand creeped up to his, the one that rested close to your face. In a sleepy move on your side, tantalizing for Jisung, your fingers tickled his skin, from his forearm to his palm, following a gentle path until your hand held his, and you pulled him towards you again, with more care this time.

Jisung could hear his mate’s low voice in his head, full with its classic australian accent.

“Ain’t no way she’s not head over heels for you too. I’d bet money on it,” Felix had chuckled, sipping the beer Han had handed him. “You guys are just blind cunts when you wanna be. Affectionately, of course,” he had added after seeing Jisung squint at him.

Han struggled to get comfortable in his now seemingly small bed. Of course it was small for two people. It had to be, because if you two were to fit in the space avaliable, it would mean that-

“…cold…”

The ruffles coming from how you then shifted on the bed were no match to how loud Han’s heartbeat sounded on his ears.

Your arm slid under his, lying limply on the curve of his waist, the other cocooned in the small space you settled in between you as you slotted your face in the crook of his neck.

thump, thump, thump.

He forced himself to relax.

“…how are you so warm, Ji?”

He had no fucking idea.

“Warm?”

You nodded, your hair tickling his face gently.

“…cozy. Like… a really cute ‘n little… weighted blanket.” You sighed, further relaxing into him, sending a chill to his spine as your warm breath brushed against his neck.

He was so fucking grateful for being so.

“You’re so cute, you know that?” He stated with a silly smile, a blush clearly obvious on his cheeks. He tackled you, and the two of you filled the room with giggles, his arms taking your body and settleing it on top of him.

You melted in his arms. “I missed you.”

He smiled, his hands playing with your hair. “I was only away for the weekend.”

“…don’t care.” His heart threatened to carve through his chest or melt when you tightened your hold on him, then tugged the blanket closer, covering you, thus covering him too.

He settled a strand of your hair behind your ear, noticing little moles in the way.

“I hadn’t noticed these ones before,” he mumbled in a soft voice that could almost lull you to sleep.

You hummed, not bothering to answer.

“I’ve heard somewhere,” he started soothingly, “that moles appear in the spots where, in your past life, you were kissed the most.”

With a sweetness that rottened your teeth, he pecked the small coloured spot in your neck. Then, he followed a short pattern, kissing the one under your ear, then another one in your shoulder, then finished off with the one in your cheek.

You smiled. “You don’t have any moles, do you?” He shook his head sideways, and you chuckled, brushing your nose with his sweetly.

“You better stay put, Ji,” you beamed cheekily. “I’ll make new moles on you.”

His chest tightened, and he beamed, chuckling as you peppered kisses all over his face.

A love scene like the movies.

His new favourite one.

[☆🔹🫂🔹☆]

catiuskaa, may 2024 ©

~Kats, who has to apologize for being dead for so long (and doesn’t quite have an excuse for it), and also has to tHANK ALL OF YOU BC WE’RE 1k FOLLOWERS IN BAKFBQIFNQKFKQK THANK YOU SO MUCH GUYS SRSLY I CAN’T EVEN BEGIN WJKFBAKF <333333

[xyaehir]

TO BE HIS MEANS TO..

#gojo satoru !

be on the receiving end of his teasing

you’ve known satoru since your highschool days. although that was years ago, the bond that you both share is an irreplaceable and unbreakable one.

many things have changed after all those years; your hair, his hair, your style, his style.

yet many things have also stayed the same. for example, the memories you both shared and the feelings you both harboured for each other. and if there’s one thing that definitely stayed the same and never made an effort to change was..

satoru’s constant need for attention.

“come onnnnn,” your white haired companion pouts, dragging his words exhaustedly. “when was the last time we were ever sent on a mission together? don’t you w’na enjoy this limited time you have with me?”

you sigh, trying to shake off his arms off of your arm as he clings onto you like a koala. “get off of me, i can’t concentrate like this!” you try to pry his arms off, even though you’re not completely against the feeling of his skin on yours. (you have to remain professional though)

he shakes his head, “no thanks- and why would you need to concentrate on anything other than yours truly?” he lifts his chin up with a proud expression.

“because yours truly has an insufferable face!” you quip, shoving his face away lightly. he huffs before moving his head to rest on your shoulder.

“aww, you love this face though.”

you scoff before retorting, “do i? i’d love a curses’ face more than yours!” you gently shove his face away from yours to create distance, hoping he doesn’t see the small smile on your lips.

spoiler alert: he definitely does.

#geto suguru !

be able to see him, and not just his strength

suguru geto is many things — a strong and talented sorcerer, a handsome young man, the best friend of satoru gojo, etcetera.

but suguru geto to you is more than that, more than a weapon. to you, suguru is like rain. he’s the calm and soft patters on your window, the rhythmic patterns of droplets that tap gently on the ground and he’s the soothing sensation that washed away all your negativity.

but like rain, it’s always shooed away by the sun. thankfully, the cloud is always there to provide a space for the rain to do its thing.

suguru geto doesn’t like to be seen vulnerable, that’s one thing you know for certain. he has to be the strongest with satoru, he has to be the voice of reason.

but with you, things are different. he doesn’t have to always be the strongest with you. he doesn’t have to always be the voice of reason. with you, he’s just suguru. he’s free to let his true emotions be seen.

so when days like this are particularly taking more of a toll on him, he knows you’ll be there to help him. because that’s the thing with you, you’re always there.

you’re there to hold his head close to your chest and intertwine your fingers together in a tight lock. you’ll wipe his teary eyes with a tender, featherlight touch.

“it’s going to be okay, i’m here. i’m always here,” you whisper softly, carding your fingers through his messy hair.

the hair that once was always neatly tied back was now messy in your grasp, just like he was. with you, he doesn’t need to tie his hair back, he can just let it flow as it wants to.

#nanami kento !

go on late walks and talks with him

if there’s one thing anyone agrees on when it comes to kento, it’s that he’s a professional guy. he’s formal, stoic and has a seemingly unbreakable poker face.

he’s strict and follows a very tight schedule with no room for error or distractions.

actually, scratch that. he has room for one distraction.

kento knows he should be in bed, sleeping to regain energy he’s been drained of (thanks to a certain albino) and recharge for the next day. so why is he so easily giving into one of your bright ideas?

said bright idea is going out for a walk at 2:30 am.

he’s aware of the consequences this little act might cause to his unforgiving schedule because running on two and a half hours of sleep while exorcising curses isn’t something people would enjoy.

he says its risky and a waste of time but something he wont admit is how he absolutely loves times like this. times where you both can let loose about the struggles of being a sorcerer and just take a breath of fresh air.

he loves how carefree and optimistic you can be while he’s sluggishly trailing after you, his wrist in your grip while you drag him to the exact same place at the exact same time you both go to every week.

then you chat his ear off about the next mission yaga plans to send you on and quickly switch topics about this new yoga and pilates class you’re interested in. he, in turn, listens and sometimes chimes in to add a snarky and backhanded comment on something to make you laugh.

and thus, the cycle repeats. but unlike his repeating routine, kento actually enjoys this cycle.

he wont and probably will never admit it until he deems it not as embarrassing anymore but he enjoys these times you both share.

“ken? heeeeyyy, are you even listening?” you drag out some of the words before reaching over to poke his cheek. he swats your hand away and you chuckle.

he grunts, adjusting his position so he’s slightly closer to you. “i was, i think i just spaced out a bit, don’t mind it. what were you saying about some upside down dog croissants?”

the corners of his mouth twitches upwards when you roll your eyes and groan. “it’s called the downward dog and i said i found out about it while eating croissants at that one bakery you told me about!”

yea, maybe this wasn’t such a distraction after all. he’s sure he can squeeze in some time for times like this in his schedule, totally not because he enjoys it or anything.

AINT NO WAY JJK ENDED VRO 😭😭 BRING THEM BACKK😞 kinda made suguru’s a bit poetic butttt he deserves love too 💗

@xyaehir 2024. this is my content. do not translate, copy or plagiarise my works in any way. reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated. <3

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Songs That Sound Like Sea-Foam (II)

AU MASTERLIST || PART III

PAIRING: Fisherman!John Price x F!Mermaid!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 5.7k

WARNINGS: Blood, abduction, violence, intense gore, death, swords & firearms, angst, hurt/comfort, nakedness, etc.

A/N: Guys, whatever you do, don't imagine Price in a white tunic holding Mermaid you in one arm and weilding a sword in the other. I'm frothing at the mouth.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You sit on your black rocks once more, the darkening sky warning of an oncoming storm that you can feel seeping into your bones. In your loose grip, you fiddle with John’s necklace. 

He’d given it to you only recently as a gift, seeing as you enjoyed the shininess of it so much, and you’d taken great pleasure in keeping it around your neck. Out of all of your treasures and trinkets, somehow these measly metal discs had become your favorite. The necklace is smooth under your caress, and you look down at it adoringly, eyes soft and lips curved with delicate affection. 

The cove, as always, was quiet above the call of seagulls and the lapping of waves; the whispering ripples from your tail as it sways under the water. You had gotten content with this—the silence. Because you knew it would be filled by the low gravel of an accented voice soon enough; would be swept away by the chuckles you could wring from beard-hidden lips. 

John was something to look forward to, and you loved the way he looked at you. 

Water hits the top of your head. 

Blinking out of your honeyed thoughts you look up to the crying sky as small slaps of droplets slide across your cheeks. Lashes flinch at every motion, and you glance back to the empty cove before lowering the necklace to your scaled lap. 

Confusion slithers in like an eel to your heart as your eyes slide over the growing waves. The yawning mouth of the entrance sits abandoned of any small fishing ship. 

For three, beautiful, sand-covered, months, John had never missed a day to come and see you. Rain or Sun.

A prick of a sharp fish's spine enters your brain. The rain comes down now in sheets. Lightning and thunder fight, and if you look close enough, the remnants of ancient lightning birds battle overhead with a flurry of black wings and their insatiable need for blood. Yet, still, your eyes stay frozen on the cove entrance as the water rises and rises. 

With a thinning of your lips and the violent pushing from the torrent as it swallows your rocks, you clench your hands over John’s necklace and push off your perch with a shove of your palms. 

Water encompasses you, scales dull, and fins limp as the general calmness from the encompassing water holds you in a constant sway. Your brows furrow.

Why wasn’t he here? You ask yourself, sinking among the seaweed and the schools of quick fish. Concern mingles with hurt. Do…do you think he’s alright? 

Human ways were still confusing to you, even if John had been helping you understand them and giving little clam-shells of information. But they seemed…like violent folk. Angry and selfish, from what John had said about their wars and squabbles. The thought of your fisherman potentially being in danger on land was terrifying to you. 

There wouldn’t be anything you could do if that happened.

Your fingers tighten around the strap of his necklace as you stare at the surface, back lightly hitting the bottom of the cove with a puff of sand. Crabs scatter as your tail twitches, your lungs sighing in their own special way. 

John can take care of himself, you reason. He’s just a little late is all. 

John’s never late. Your face creases, but you stuff the thought down, twisting on your side and bridging the piece of jewelry to your lip—kissing it once as sand digs into your skin. Holding the fisherman's property to your pounding heart, you close your eyes and wait as any lonely and loyal Merwoman would; tail held in close and the reverberations of a rabid downpour above you.

—

You wake up to the darkness of night. Blinking, you sigh to yourself and move a slow hand to rub at your eyes. After a moment of fatigued confusion as to why you weren’t in your cave, you realized why you had been out here in the first place.

John. 

Arms pushing you up, your mind fights to wake itself, laced with algae and fatigue. How long have you been asleep? Has the storm stopped? Surely you hadn’t slept the entire day away. You pull the fisherman's necklace over your head as you stare at the sand below you. No fish were slipping past besides one that brushes your tail, which you found odd, but didn’t think much of it. 

Shaking your head, you feel sluggish and put the necklace back on with a huff. You worry what John will think of you perhaps missing his late visit and smile slightly in humor. 

The fish brushes your tail again. 

Scales shimmering, you turn with an annoyed pull to your lips, fins scraping something hard and rough even as it’s saturated by the water of your cove. When you spot it, not only the rope but the shadow of the large hunting ship above you, your body drains of any life that had once lived in your lungs. It wasn’t nighttime. 

Eyes widening at the loop that was parading around your tail, you don’t have time to move before it tightens with a force that leaves your mouth opening in a bubbled scream; ruthlessly jerking your body along the seafloor. 

Desperately, your hands rip along the rocks and weeds of the bottom of the cove, getting torn and shredded in their soft nature as easily as paper. Your body smacks into every little object with a rattling to your bones that makes you sob. Red saturates the water as you’re manhandled in long and steady intervals back and up. 

No amount of rampaging your tail does can break the rope, and with a last-ditch effort as the sandy floor gets farther and farther away, you twist around and tear at the woven cord with sharp nails. Adrenaline pumps, pupils tiny and panicked. 

No! No, not like this! You can imagine the pain of it now—the hooks and the ripping of scales from your supple flesh. Even now the tiny ones under the dig of the vice are peeling away in long strings of red to disappear behind you as you’re thrust upward. They’re delicate, don’t these monsters understand? They’re beautiful and treasured and they’re destroying them!

You scream in pain at the pulling of your spine; a large creaking in your muscles. 

But as you gain a small sense of feral hope when the rope begins to fray from your grip, the iron net squashes any belief of surviving. 

It slams into you as John would cast his own for his prey—but this one is larger and full of cruel, curved, spikes. Is this what your parents endured? What the harpies had meant? The iron sinks far quicker than rope, and it traps you in a dome of hell before you can mutilate yourself out of the maw.

Oh, Gods, it was going to peel your skin away.

True fear pounded in your breast, and with a cry of John’s name from under the water, you watched with horror as the net descended onto you and your bloody wounds.

They drag you above waves and the first thing you do is thrash and wail so loud the seagulls shriek in surprise. There’s crimson staining the waters sloshing at you with combative ease, the violent storm from before now a light slapping at add to your fear. In the wake of open air, the curved spikes dig into your flesh as easily as a unicorn’s horn can penetrate a wyvern’s armor. Skin everywhere is assaulted and peeled to a tautness of bodily torture. 

Oh, and your precious tail. 

It hurt so badly, like nothing you had ever experienced before. 

“John!” You scream as your body strikes the side of the large ship, voice cutting out and leaving a bawling yell behind. Your form was being pulled by steady hoists and barked orders. 

All around you can hear laughing—joking. Loud exclamations of approval. 

You’re sure they’ve dislocated your tail right at the joint, how could they not have? The ream of their strong arms and ruthless greed. Oh, your tail, your precious, beautiful tail.

Long streams of salty tears fly down your dripping face; arms pushing the spikes away from your neck and face with futile action. The net and rope were your earthly graves. 

They slam you to the deck like a fish. 

Jerking and slapping around, your arms hit the wood with a bird-paced heart. The iron rattles and keeps you down like a weight. 

Brokenly gasping through loud cries, the sudden jeering faces from all around leave your fear all-consuming. 

They were ugly—broken teeth and sun-destroyed skin. Eyes that bugged and scars that could be from either a sword or a Strix’s claws. More than likely it was from meager squabbles with crewmates. But you balk back nonetheless, terrified and bleeding profusely. 

They were going to rip you to pieces. 

Inside your chest, your lungs are rising and falling quickly, and the hands that glide along your form make you want to burn your skin off. They grip at you, yanking you around as your hair gets caught in the gaps between the iron. With nail and tooth your bite and claw, but how many were there? Ten? Twenty? 

There’s uproar and more jokes as you fight back; body lifted and spikes torn out of skin as you arch your back and howl in agony. Their hands are not John’s. They don’t caress your smooth skin with reverence or holiness—this is cruelty. This is a sadistic pleasure. 

“Isn’t it our lucky day, Lads?!” A high and grating voice bellows out, and finally free of the net, all you can do is cry and flip your tail uselessly along the polished wood as they throw you down. Your vision blacks and slowly comes back—hair matted and skin slick with more than water.

It hurts to breathe too much. Whimpering, your cheek presses itself into the deck as footsteps take someone closer.

“Holy God, would ya look at that down there, eh? A true maiden of the sea,” A thunderous belt of achievement from everyone leaves you flinching, eyes tight shut to try and focus on anything but the excruciating way your skin throbs and gushes blood. “Though we’d have gotten all of them by now!” 

Haggard laughs and rotted smiles. 

A hand snaps to wrench your face upward, and you yowl and grasp at your head as your delicate strands go tight.

“Now who’s the little beauty we have here?” Whoever this man was, he had no standing on John. On your Fisherman. 

Loose skin and an age-rotted tunic, a belt at his waist holding a scabbard with a gold sword and twin pistols. He had only one eye—brown as a pile of mud—with a black eyepatch over the other. 

Your fluttering lashes took in a cracked-lipped grin of approval; whether at your battered appearance or the nature of your species, you knew not. But you didn’t like the way he was glancing at your tail as if it was made of gold one bit.

“Lords above, did ya have to be so brash, Lads?” Spittle slaps your face and you fight again with the hands in your locks to get away. The man’s hold jerks your face back and forth until you stop with bile building in your throat. “Wrecked her silky skin, you did!”

Being thrown back, your skull slams the deck before you hurl your guts in a sputtering of air and crimson. Many laugh and kick at your already broken scales. You grit your teeth and refuse to cry out.

“Get ‘er tied up and in the Hold for storage. If the scales are good enough, we’ll peel ‘em tomorrow.”

“Peel?!” Your face whips into a twisted glare, and pain leads to fast anger; wrath, even. The men grow gradually silent at your outburst and the leader comes to a slow stop—his back to you. “How dare you?” You gasp out, hands pushing your body slightly backward until the agony makes you stop with a lip-bitten whine. “How dare you do this to me? What have I done to you and your men? You’re nothing but senseless cowards who shy at something that lives its life differently! Am I only a pile of coin for you?!”

Your blood runs over the deck and seeps into the grain. Staining it with your memory and presence like a ghost that’s not yet dead. Loose scales shimmer and drip red. They were damaged and dull—your flesh was mangled. 

The leader turns back and smirks with blackened teeth. “More than a pile, Little Dearie. Far more. And if those hooks had been kinder, the King would have loved a beauty like you in his collection.” A look is slid down your body with a knowing chuckle.

He stalks off and you peel back your lips to say more, but a stained rag is shoved into your mouth instead, shutting up your rageful screeches and any hope of a peep of potent song despite not knowing these devils’ names.

By the time they chuck you in the Hold, body bouncing along the wood, and shut the hatch with a reverberation of wood, you had managed to rip someone’s ear clean off and break another’s arm; but there was only so much you could do. They had bound your hands behind you with a blow to your spine.

Curled up and longing for the sea, for John, you hold the only thing you have left. 

Silver discs on a chain, the metal smooth and the only thing now shining. You feel it hit your breastbone and sob as the headache of blood loss begins to set in. Laughter echoes from above your dark prison.

—

John saw the blood in the water before he saw the scales being pushed back and forth on the beach. Caught in that gentle push and pull now that the storm had ceased beyond a light drizzle—bright and reflecting the misty sun; far more vibrant than a fish or a sea serpent. But the blood. 

Christ, there was blood in the water. 

Blue eyes stare blankly at the sea-foam at the shoreline, red and bubbling, John’s pupils small and the lashes held back even as a salty breeze hits them with a burn. At his sides, his hands slowly close into fists. 

Jumping off the side of his ship, the man lands in thigh-deep water, gritting his teeth before he shoves his way to the sand and black rocks of land. He doesn’t know what drives his actions, or why he’s doing this, but with quick hands, he snatches up what scales he can find and keeps them in his palm; mind on fire. 

Anyone could see the fury in John’s gaze—a growing hatred for what was just beyond sight. When he has all he’s able to carry, he wades back through the water and gets himself back atop his boat easily with one hand. 

Walking quickly and soaked, he pushes aside a small cloth atop a barrel; seeing a gold box hidden under it. He opens it deftly, and while he puts the damaged and torn scales inside, John glances at the expensive and elegant twin cuff bracelets that sit in blue velvet. 

When he had been away buying them for you, he should have already been here. Wasted time.

I left her here alone. Knowing what could happen if I did. A growl bounces under his beard, face going red with anger. The two of you had quickly become enraptured with each other—drunk off flesh and touch like non-sentient animals. 

And something had taken place while he was away. You were gone, the fisherman knew. The water wasn’t as clear, the fish were terrified, and the blood alone proved this—the scales. This wasn’t an accident.

And it had something to do with that ship he’d seen on the horizon with his narrowed eyes not minutes prior. The Captain was slowly re-taking over the man.

“Fuck!” John curses, teeth bared as he spins and readies his sails. With violent pulls at the ropes, letting the mainsail shift down in a flurry of white sheets, he turns the vessel around in no time at all. It was as if Poseidon himself was pushing the ship forward to that small dot on the ocean line, far, far away. 

Deadly purpose bled into his heart, and the early afternoon sun forced him onward with hellfire following at his heels. He re-wraps his gift in the meantime, only taking a single scale from inside and putting it in a small pouch on his belt before walking to another barrel and pausing. This one was older, more sun-bleached. 

John deserted the service years ago, but not long enough to forget how the world of men can be. With a grunt on his thinned lips, the brunette rips the top off and grasps inside. 

With an experienced hand out came a sheathed Cutlass, the leather of the handle worn and indented to his very grip. It found a place on his belt, and John wasted no time in making the Flintlock pistol follow. 

A fisherman he may be, but in his blood John would always be a killer. He knew how to fight dirty and fight well—carve skin and not flinch at the sparks of gunpowder. There was no hesitation as to what he would do to get you back. 

In his chest, there was a weight of rage and concern as he glared at the far-off Hunter’s ship.

“What the hell have you done to her?” He growls, beard back and eyes narrowed. His hands clenched and unclenched with loathing. 

John’s thoughts go to the horror stories he’d heard about Merfolk and them getting caught in the open ocean, when he’d found you he had been surprised. He felt his heart beat faster when you were around, his blood would spike with love and affection. 

It was strange, unheard of, but he can’t stop it now that it’s happened. 

No one touched you with their cruel hands and lived. 

John didn’t like it, but he hung far enough away from the Hunter’s ship so that the cover of night hid him. Dark stars hung at his head, tunic blowing in the chilled breeze when the waves took him close enough—all was silent. Asleep. 

Lantern light slid along the waves, and with deft fingers, John anchored his ship with measured efficiency a small distance away. Looking over the side, the fisherman grunts under his breath and sets his shoulders. Without a single glance in hesitation, he slips silently off the deck into the water. 

Immediately, John kicks his legs and resurfaces with a puff from his nostrils, whipping his head to the side to dispel water. Making no sound, the man swims the distance between vessels, hearing the creak of the still and bulky form of the Hunter’s ship ten times his own sitting above him. 

“Fuckin’ bastards,” he grumbles to himself and thinks of your condition intensely. His heart hammers even in the clutches of the frigid waters. But beyond the insult, no other words needed to be spoken—the prior Captain was a man of action.

Violent Action.

John wades to the side of the wooden structure, the waves threatening to smash him tight into the hull and skin him against the barnacles, but he braces himself and grabs ahold of the knife at his belt, next to his cutlass. In his stupor to get to you quickly, he’d forgotten that his Flintlock would be completely useless now that it had been submerged in water. 

Grunting and trying to remain as quiet as possible, the man sets his blade into the side of the ship into the thin slits available. In his free hand, he takes up his cutlass and does the same. In a feat of impressive upper-body strength that leaves his muscles bunching and tensing—veins visible from the side of his neck—John huffs breaths as he climbs the ship one panel at a time. 

He groans and sends the blades back in at opposite intervals, the firm thunk-plunk, thunk-plunk, bouncing off the dark air as the moon shines bright. But no one awakens.

The Fisherman pulls himself up the side of the ship and swiftly ducts behind a pile of large crates on deck to gather himself, wiping his forehead with his arm.

“C’mon Sweetheart,” he mutters, “hold on just a little longer.” Duel wielding both weapons, narrowed eyes look across the open area—the stain of blood all along the wood. Glimmering in the low light catches John’s fiery gaze. 

Scales. Your scales. Littering the deck and scattered all over. 

If possible, the man becomes even more enraged, knuckles going white over his blades. The man stationed on deck was asleep across the way; leaning back and snoring. John locks eyes on him and hides back a vicious smirk. Quickly sneaking over and staying near the edge of the lantern’s lights, the ragged-looking man awakens to a blade at the base of his throat and a voice in his ear.

“The woman,” John speaks slowly and deeply, accent rolling out. The watchman tenses in his grip, but John grits his teeth and grits out, “Where the fuck is she?” 

“W-woman?” Usually, the brunette could paint himself a patient man, like a flag fluttering in a breeze waiting for the next bout of heavy winds without care or concern. But this was different. 

By God, if these pathetic fortune-seekers had hurt you even in the slightest bit…

John presses the blade harder to the man’s throat, thighs shifting in agitation, glaring at the far-off water beyond this stranger’s shoulder.

“The woman.” Blood falls down the blade edge, crimson. A tiny whimper. “The one that you stole away like an fucking animal.” 

“The fish?” The tone was incredulous but with a snarl the voice continues, whispering pitifully out in fear over the night’s silence. “She’s in the Hold! I swear it, Sir, on God’s green earth I do—”

John slits the man’s throat and takes his leave before the body drops, blood spraying into the air with a garbled cry.

—

You don’t sleep so much as you fall unconscious from the lack of blood. Inside your head, your brain is fuzzy and light—everything swirling like a jewel’s many faces reflected onto a wall. The rocking of the Hunter’s ship, while something you should be used and accustomed to, made you sick at times until only the watery bile that fell from your lips hit the wood. 

At some point, you’d given into the call of nothingness at the lack of seawater and the violent shivering of your shoulders. Your tail had gone completely numb. 

Everyone knew that Merfolk needed the sea to survive—you couldn’t live without feeling its loose arms around you for long periods, pulling you in and filling your airways. 

This was torture. 

But whoever was ripping up cloth at your limp side was muttering you back into the darkness of the Hold. 

“I’m right ‘ere, c’mon, Love. Open your bloody eyes.” Hands pressed to your face, tilting it and hissing before a thumb slid along the swollen skin of a cut. “I’ll rip them to pieces…mark my word. They’ll not live through this.” 

It sounded like…

Gripping at your binds and gag, both items slipped away right before the larger cuts on your body were suddenly packed with strips of rough material. Occasional whispers of words and curses wafted out. 

“...J-John?” Your voice is rough, shattered, but at the same time you manage to force open an eye. 

Tight blue eyes meet yours immediately, and his voice softens to a painful degree as he addresses you. “That’s it, atta girl. Just keep focusing on my voice, then, yeah? Come back to me, Sweetheart.” 

Tears well your ducts, lips quivering. 

John was curled over you and had ripped up the bottom of his tunic to make strips of bandages to try and stop the bleeding. He came for you, gruff voice and large frame, all.

“How are you—” Your voice breaks into body-shaking coughs, but that doesn't deter the man. He carefully puts a hand forward and tilts you into his arms; head resting on his chest. Your ears twitch to the sound of his heartbeat, loud and fast. You cling to it like a lifeline as those calluses graze your skin once more.

How was he here? 

“What have they fucking done?” John’s voice is dark and volatile, his hand stroking your matted hair. “What did they do?” 

He’s not so much asking you as he’s asking himself. You breathe in a wheeze, not noticing the crimson staining John’s clothes—none of it his or yours in the slightest. The other men on the ship weren’t the Fisherman’s priority, only you; always you. But whoever had been in his path had met the unfortunate end of being on the opposite side of his blade. 

When he’d found you like this….it was like his entire chest had fallen still. His eyes wide with horror and fear. 

John had never felt something that visceral before, except when you hadn’t been in your cove. 

“Oh, my Beauty.” Chapped lips press to your forehead, breathing you in as arms curl around you. “Let me bring you home.” 

You shake and cry silently into his neck, weak hands coming to grasp at his neck. 

“They’re going to take my tail.” 

“No,” John’s answer is immediate and firm, pulling you closer until you might slip into his skin. “No, they’re not doing a damn thing to you. I promise, Love, not a single person will ever touch you again, you hear?” 

You burrow into his neck, this fisherman’s flesh soft under your force. Hands keep you to him, and with another kiss on your cheek, they tighten and gently move you into the clutch of his arm. 

John looks down at you with great distress, eyes flickering over every sign of abuse and hurt. The men whose throats he’d slit in their sleep deserved to be awake and see the blade descending for their neck, he thought. 

“I’m going to lift you, Sweetheart, eh?” He grunts to push aside the hatred in his tone, not wanting to scare you. He gazes around the Hold and at the low ceiling—the insistent rocking from the waves just outside. 

You suck down greedy breaths and nod slightly, shaking in his arms. John’s eyes crease in sorrow but has no option but to continue; the both of you can’t be here when the remaining men wake or discover the bodies. 

Your Fisherman frowns but does what he’s able to both quickly and effectively lift you, your tail hanging limp and dripping blood from the fins. When you tense and whine, John shushes you quietly.

“Hush, now, it’s alright. It’ll all be over soon, I’ve got you. I’m taking you back home if it’s the last thing I damn-well do.” Your teeth grit with held-back pain, every movement was agony and to think made it worse. 

Home? Home wasn’t safe anymore. Like taking a knife to the heart, the thought makes the torment all the worse. 

John holds you in one arm, head under his ear and rubbing against his beard as his muscles strain to keep you right to him with his torn tunic and blood-freckled skin. In his free hand, he wields his Cutlass and exits the Hold slowly, eyes surveying the scene. 

The scores of bodies were only a fraction of the men of this ship—only one side of the crew’s quarters that ascended up to the deck. John knew the anatomy of a ship well, certainly one like this. 

His only question was why such an unsavory bunch was living on a King issued hunting vessel in perfect condition. Was the bastard hiring pirates for his extermination game?

“If I ever get my hands on him…” John shuts himself up as someone groans in their sleep from the far wall. 

He glares in the general direction and puts his body between yours and the straight direction that he walks—sword parallel to the ground and knife at his belt as a backup. Ready and wound for a fight. 

“You..you came for me?” You ask softly as John carries on, your blood leaving a crimson trail behind the two of you; your mind is loose to all except the way your Fisherman’s thumbs run circles in your rent scales, fingers gripping under your tail joint which aches and hurts. His bicep is curled at the small of your back. 

John carries you like you weigh nothing.

“‘Course,” the brunette's eyes slide to yours, true honesty and firmness behind his words. You flutter your lashes at the fatigue in your body and his feet speed up, speaking into your scalp and nuzzling his beard into you. “No one messes with my girl.” 

“I’m not a…girl, John,” you remind, softly.

The smirk on your head gives you strength, fear steadily draining like contaminated liquid.

“No,” he whispers, “no, not quite. You’re something far more lovely, aren’t you?”

Your heart swells, tears dripping down your cheeks once more before lips slide them away with brushes of a kiss. He carries you up the stairs quickly, sword at the ready. 

Lantern light makes you squint, hands tightening around John’s neck. 

He hums to you, a small melody that you can latch onto to help focus—it keeps your mind working as everything else falls away. John’s warm flesh and his lungs, the sound of his pulse. 

He came for you. No man would do that besides him—no specimen of any species. No one except John. 

Your Fisherman. 

You’re halfway to freedom, feeling the sea air on your flesh and longing for the depths of untouchable waves. You peek from John’s neck and blink delicately, what little scales still intact shimmering, and fins aching for water. 

“John,” he begins to pick up his pace, but still glances in attentive question. “I need to be in the water. I can’t go long without it.” You already felt a bit stronger by just being by the open sea. The man nods and you smile deeply, face twisted. You kiss his cheek deeply. “You have my thanks, Fisherman.” 

His tight expression gradually loosens with care and love. “Doubted me, then?”

“Perhaps only a little,” he kisses your lips, cheeky smiles peeling his beard. 

“Well, we’ll have to fix that, eh?” The man’s face is lit by lanterns, stars like a crown above his head that illuminate the small scars and the sheen of sweat like a portrait of a good man. 

Perhaps humans were truly more magical than you had been taught to believe, for no mortal man would do this for anybody. 

In the midst of him carrying you over to the edge of the ship, he’s only three feet from the drop when the familiar sound of a Flintlock hammer being clicked back hits his ears. You feel John lock up, and your eyebrows crease in confusion; not common to the model of metal and wood. 

Looking over his shoulder, you strangle down a raspy gasp.

“John—”

“I know, Love.” He whispers, turning slowly with his sword at his hip. The stranger with the eyepatch has his weapon leveled with the brunette’s chest. “Easy, let me handle it. Keep focusing on me.”

“A thief in the night!” The leader calls, and alarm from below deck start to rise in question at the noise. John grits his teeth and his stance widens. “Thought to make off with my prize, did ya? I’ve not seen you before on this ship.”

“Hell,” John grits out, loudly now that he’s caught. You burrow deeper into him and he shields you, voice hot with rage. “Save me the fuckin’ monologue. She isn’t yours—to own or bloody take.” 

As he speaks he points his cutlass in the leader’s general direction, holding it aloft with a strong and pale arm. The leader smirks, and soon the pound of rushing feet enter the deck—men holding weapons and clubs. You make a noise of tension and John tries to shift you farther into his grip even more. 

Your tail hangs and brushes the deck, gaining some feeling back to it gradually. 

The leader laughs. “What that creature is, Mate, is enough gold for a whole moon’s time in rum and pleasure.” His single eye falls on you as the crew gets closer, crowding in and yelling. 

John shuffles back and snarls like a boar, pointing his sword’s tip from one chest to another. 

“Keep your bastard eye off of ‘er, you prick. Find your score elsewhere. She’s coming with me.” So sure he sounds that you yourself believe it. Your chest swims with pride.  

The crew closes in, but jumping at this stage was dangerous. The ones with firearms could aim in the water before you both could get away and John didn’t know if you could swim still. Your fins were torn and tail flinching with damaged nerves.

Eyepatch barks a vile laugh, “...I think he loves the beast!” John’s body winds even farther and your eyes slip to the side of his red face. He grunts stiffly, hair damp. Everyone follows in their amusement, mocking the two of you. “I knew that necklace around her neck meant something.” Your body stills and you glance down at John’s gifted silver. Blue eyes flash to the same, but as if suddenly realizing the nakedness of your top surrounded by such brutes, your Fisherman pushes on the back of your spine to shove your chest into his own with a panicked look. You grunt in surprise, but let him. “No greedy Mermaid would bother with a trinket like that! A piece of rubbish metal. It means something to her—and I’ll bet that something is you, Thief.” 

Me, greedy? Your eyes narrowed into slits. If you knew his name, you’d sing his death song in an instant. Your Fisherman’s face goes stiff, knowing the predicament the two of you were in. There was no way he was giving you up. 

But himself…

Tiny lids narrow on the arrogant leader.

“Do you trust me?” John whispers to you, suddenly, as all sides were surrounded and the water just as dangerous as the deck. 

Face creasing, you say, confused and worried, “Of course.” 

“...Then forgive me.” 

He throws you from the side of the deck, and whirs to run his blade through the nearest man. 

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[strawurberries]

Rain

Summary: Vash has never experienced rain, but she is how he imagines it to all be.

Authors Note: Wrote this in one sitting, edited (lol not really) in one sitting, and posted this in one sitting. Guys I think I might be on drygs or something? This is scary how did I do this all so quick?

Warnings: Fem!Reader (she/her) pronouns, 3rd person writing.

Rain, as it had been described to him once, felt like feather light kisses upon sun-smothered skin; a relief that only the heavens would offer, and a delight that only the blessed could experience. As a child, Vash had been in awe, hoping that he would be able to one day feel such a thing. He could practically imagine it: the small, cool raindrops that would glide down his forehead, against the curve of his nose and over the corner of his mouth, finding its way over the edge of his chin. He could imagine the softness of his hair after the rain, the smell of wet Earth, and the calming energy that seemed to permeate the very air with its existence. After he wandered the deserts, though, he came to the realization that rain would never come to him, and he would only be able to imagine such an intimate touch by the skies—until the day she kissed the nape of his neck.

It was a hesitant, fluttery thing—as fickle as man’s nature yet as sweet as late night laughter. She had pressed her lips right above a jagged scar, deliciously gentle and faint. The ghost-like affection made him crave more, a thundering in his heart and an uncomfortable feeling blooming in the pit of his belly. With a small giggle, which he didn’t even know he had whispered out, and a vague stammer in his voice, he had asked what she was doing. 

And she, in all her holy-ness, had smiled and responded, “loving you as best I can.”

And this morning, when she had wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed the awkward jut of his spine, just below the back of his neck, she had said the same thing. With that sleepy, barely-awake-but-still-vaugely-there gravelly voice making his ears turn a faint red. He knew she could see that, and he knew that later she’d tease him, and then he’d pout and whine, and they’d laugh—but right now he didn’t want that banter. He wanted to enjoy the silent love that flowed through the warmth of her arms and the slight pain of her chin digging into his back as she stared up at the ceiling, counting spider-webs and the knots within the wooden beams. 

“Morning mayfly,” he tilted his head up as well, one hand squeezing her arm and the other dropping to his side. “How’d ya sleep?”

She hummed and pulled back slightly, “good. You?” A gentle kiss was pressed into the middle of his back, another one below, and one more above. Her nose dragged along his exposed flesh, hot and lightly layered in sweat from the sweltering heat of the day. Like raindrops, she indiscriminately showered him in divinity—a kiss there, a smile here, a squeeze of her arms, or the loving tone of her low, morning-sung humming. 

He hung his head and stared at her intertwined fingers. He wished he could lace his hand with hers; their bodies pressed so close together that every crevice and curve filled with the other's skin, morphing into a set of lovers who ascended beyond themselves, and came to understand each other in such entirety that they were nothing but one. He tapped the knuckle of her left ring finger, feeling the patterns on her flesh, memorizing her down to the atom. “Perfect,” he mumbled, “the best I’ve slept in a while.”

He could feel her grin, another raindrop of love pressed to his side, “good. You needed it.” She loosened her grip and opened her palms up, a silent question. He couldn’t help the bashful, knowing smile that tugged at his lips. Almost hesitantly, as if his touch could break her, he set his palm against hers. They slotted together like it was destined—it was the only thing that made sense anymore. The curl of her fingers and the awkwardly bent angle of his, the dip of her palm giving way for the hills of his. The feeling of being so full, so perfectly complemented, made emotions well up in his chest. His heart tightened and he remembered what he had been told about rain:

“The clouds hold the water until the pressure is so great, so overpowering, that they weep and burst. From the sorrow of the clouds comes the life below. Every horrible experience can be also understood to be a blessing by others. The clouds cry and the flowers drink.”

The love, he felt, would burst out his pores in waves of stuttering conviction and hidden affection that sometimes he, himself, didn’t understand. He could feel the waves of emotion tumbling over his heart and lungs, making his eyes sting with pain and pure adoration for the woman behind him, for the kindness she showed and the patience she held between her teeth.

The pitter patter of rain drumming against the edge of the human conundrum, the human condition, and the human experience. Everyone is so different, yet at their cores, all life requires the same of each other.

“I love you.”

Drip, drip, drip; each raindrop plays a part in a nature-wide symphony of music. The ancient song of life and everything that follows thereafter.

She gripped his hand and pressed her cheek against the rough edge of his shoulder blade. “I love you too.” As gently as the Earth accepted the rain, as the plants drank the water, and as the animals bathed in the heavens—as easily as they had listened to their natural instincts, she had admitted her love. Without doubt, without the pain of the clouds nor the hesitation that Vash showed in every action and movement, she had said the words he so desperately craved. 

He squeezed her hands, no longer knowing where his body began and her’s ended, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“I love you.”

A rainstorm of kisses dripped down his spine, “I love you.”

Teardrops fluttered off his eyelashes, dripping onto their intertwined hands. Like rain, the tears slid across flesh and disappeared into the crevices of flesh. “I love you.”

Another raindrop, another smile, another tear, another burning confession.

The storm, it seems, will go on.

[foxfires-curse]

📀

After learning what the month of June has come to mean in the future and today being its last day until next year, I finally decided to take matters into my own hands and speak to Cogito-san.

I left the Alabaster Icelands early in the afternoon after I made sure Maru would be alright without me, asking the girls to look after him, and Setsuna embarrassed me by telling me to "go get her", speaking of Cogito-san. After a few hours of walking, I finally approached the Ancient Retreat where she lives. As her house came into view, Lady Enamorus left, smiling at me, indicating Cogito-san was sitting at her tea table like usual, before flying away as I nodded my thank to her.

Cogito-san was surprised to see me, as we had met just the day before, and asked me what I was doing here, and if there was any issue that would make me require her help. I was quick to dismiss her worries, telling her I had come today to speak to her, and that it was a very serious matter, before I took off my mask to look at her directly, without hiding. She had a mix of... anxiety, fear, yet excitement in her eyes? Like she apprehended what I was about to say, but was hoping for, expected it to be positive.

And so I opened my heart to her. We had known each other for a year, which to the both of us was nothing compared to how long we had both lived. And yet this past year, out of all those I had lived, had been my happiest, meeting at first occasionally, eventually becoming every few days. I enjoyed every minute of our time spent together, and loathed every time I had to leave, always longing for the next time we met. The feelings that had been growing inside of me became too much to bear.

I approached her, taking a hold of her hands. I told her that I loved her, much more than words could express. I wanted her by my side, forever, not as a friend, but as a mate, or as humans say, a lover. She avoided my gaze, her eyes hidden by her hair and hat, making me anxious and fear I had broken something that could never be repaired. When she turned back and looked up to me to look me in the eyes, tears rolling down her face and with a half suppressed smile, my heart skipped a beat.

"It seems like I was worried for nothing. I understand now why Enamorus always looked upset at me whenever you left. I thought I was not enough for you, too old, as I know I have lived longer than even you have. That we would not happen, and would remain you and me. It has been such a long time since I last had a lover, and I had given up..."

She looked down as she said that, and I cupped her cheeks in my hands, wiping the tears from her eyes as I tilted her head up to face me again.

"Cogito", I said. "This kind of thing matters little to me. If you are willing to, I would happily spend eternity with you. If I have to wait two hundred years for your answer, then so be it. You will forever be in my heart, and your happiness will always matter more to me than anything else."

She chuckled lightly through her tears, before putting her hands on mine.

"Oh Miyuki, you silly vixen. You truly have charmed me, haven't you? Who said I was going to wait two hundred years to say yes?"

And as she said that, she stood on the tip of her toes and wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling me to her, our lips meeting in the most gentle kiss. Suddenly, from the sky that was clear of any clouds, with only the warm light of the sun, started a light shower of rain. Neither of us looked up, but she chuckled once again as the droplets joined the tears on our cheeks.

"The fox's wedding, huh?"

And we kissed again, smiling and laughing, before entering her house to shield ourselves from the sudden rain, looking back before the door closed at five pairs of eyes looking on warmly from afar.

[emperordeathsatan]

Conquest. Walhart wanted to see the world kneeling to him, to be subjugated under the foot of the most powerful man alive, and not any god. Unfortunately his power had proven insufficient, Chrom was the one that walked away from their duel, Walhart had fallen in battle. Though wounded, he had managed to escape with his life, a most humiliating way to continue living, but throwing his life away in battle would exemplify the exact kind of dogma he was trying to eliminate. He ran away with his tail between his legs and lived to fight another day, his dreams of conquest nothing more than a delusion.

He outran the forces of Ylisse, they did not give chase. As soon as he was in the clear he collapsed against the ground. His wounds still open, a trail of blood followed him. Walhart was something more than human, but he wasn't immortal. He had never felt agony like this in his life before, the pain of his wounds, the feeling of his blood draining out of his body, the emotions of crushing defeat sweeping over him, something that had yet to fully sink in, he wouldn't admit failure. Walhart knew that one day death would come for him, but that day would not be today, his wounds would not claim him, he would not let them. Valm has stood for 1000 years, and it will not fall today. Victory is inevitable, for he is eternal.

Walhart's armor was stained with blood, barely visible on the crimson plate, the dirt that sullied it was more clear. He placed one hand onto the ground, lifting himself up slightly. Walhart had tasted the blood of many of his enemies, today he tasted his own, the bitterness was unfamiliar. The torrent of rain pelted his armor as he attempted to recover, to live again. He took one step upward to lift himself off the ground. Lightning struck the sky behind him as Walhart rose again. His wounds were severe, but he would survive. He looked behind him to see what he had fled from, an empire, a dream of world domination, Valm. He left it behind as he stumbled into the forrest. For the second time in his life, Walhart shed a single tear.

He walked aimlessly through the woods. Even if his eyes hadn't been slashed at he wouldn't have been able to make out anything in the dead of night. Just mud, trees, and the occasional weed. Even if he could see, he didn't know what he was looking for, his armies were most likely surrendering right about now, and everybody that wasn't subjugated by him would likely try and finish him off. He simply walked, because that's all he could do. His throat was dry, and his wounds here only being held shut by the rags he had torn from his clothes tied onto them. He knew not where life would take him, only that he would continue to live.

Walhart saw a light in front of him, one that glowed like only the sun could, it felt like having a weight lifted off his shoulders. His steps grew lighter and lighter, suddenly he could not just shamble, but walk, even run towards the incandescence. It's brightness drawing him like a moth to a flame. The rain started to stop. He ran up the hill until he found the source of this light.

When he got there, all he found was a woman. Lightly armored, she was picking flowers, bent over and smiling. It was odd to find someone completely alone this far into the woods, especially a girl that couldn't be older than 20, She had orange hair, it flowed down her back. She noticed the heavy clang of Walhart's steps as he approached her, if he had a weapon, he would have drawn it.

The girl rose as she looked at him. "Well met, stranger." She said as she waved to him. He scowled, unused to this casual demeanor. "Well met," He responded. "What might be the reason for your expedition this deep into the forrest, am i to assume you have bodyguards lying in wait somewhere?"

"Oh no." she looked a bit concerned at his caution. "I'm alone, i'm just out here picking flowers to give to my friends later. I know it's a bit dangerous to go this far out by myself, but i think i can handle any threats at this point."

She noticed the blood running down his armor, her eyes widened in horror. "You're hurt!" She pressed her hand against it, it wasn't just a splash, he was drenched in a river of his own blood. "By Mila's light, you're dying!" She hyperventilated when she saw how injured he was, she had no idea how he was even standing. "Why didn't you tell me!? You need immediate care! I-, I don't.." She was at a loss for words, unsue of where she should begin and how long she had. She struggled to calm herself down. The woman stretched her palm out, attempting to cast the most potent recovery spell she knew, starting by targeting the grievous wounds that decorated his chest. She could do nothing but pray to Mila that all this man's vital functions were still intact.

It was unimaginable pain to feel your flesh rended as he so did, only to have it be recreated with the magical ability of a divine servant like this woman, Walhart's face remained static as he was healed. He started to wonder about this woman, she was clearly religious, referencing some kind of deity earlier, the name "Mila" meant nothing in Valm. Walhart had spent his first life fighting religious dogma, now he owes his second life to it's power.

The sight of the lacerations over Walhart had brought the young girl to tears, she was reminded of all the horrible things she has seen as a healer, few of them as bad as this, it looked like this man had somehow dueled an entire army. She had expended every ounce of energy she could putting his body into a workable state, and now she felt as exhausted as he did. The woman fell forward, unable to stand, she leaned against Walhart, staining her face with the blood that cascaded down his chest. Walhart had never been touched like this.

He noticed that the woman was out of breath, she had exhausted herself saving him, a noble task. Self-sacrifice like this was unheard of in his army. He lifted her into his arms, carrying her like a bride as she rested. Walhart wanted to carry her back to her home, but she was unconscious, unable to point her in the correct direction. He simply walked, and walked, and walked, not stopping until she awoke.

The woman awoke to the sight of her being carried in the arms of this stranger, fully healed, he seemed to atleast try and return the favor for the treatment she ha given him. She spoke. "I... Passed out while healing you, didn't i?" Walhart nodded. "It happens so rarely, but i can't bring myself to stop when i should, not when someone needs it." She still couldn't stand. "Do you feel better?"

"Yes." Walhart replied with a stone face. "I will not die."

"That's, good news... You can put me down, i think." She was still dizzy, but she could stand for now. Walhart placed her onto the ground, getting uncomfortably close to her and looking into her eyes. Her eyes shined auburn, just like her hair, he almost felt bad about letting such a pretty face be coated with his blood. She noticed that he was staring, and she blushed, looking away.

[cookeybg]

It's 3am and this comment has been on my mind. Instead of sleeping I wrote this. Please excuse any typos and incorrect gardening. It might have ended up being a bit bitter sweet.

Name: White and Yellow

Characters: Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne

Jon's eyes roved over his flower garden, petunias, sunflowers, calalilies, lavender, all blooming beautifully under the bright sun. Bumble bees buzzed happily and lady bugs crawled on leaves. The most prominent flowers were the two rose bushes, one white and one yellow, both inherited from their fathers, both belonging to their respective grandparents who were long passed. Jon picked and plucked the nicest ones, their scents wafting in the air. He took the bundle of flowers into the kitchen and arranged them the way Alfred had taught him so long ago. The way Damian would never admit he cherished, but the small smile and thoughtful gaze would give him away when he thought Jon wasn't looking.

Jon's heart would swell, his feet would levetate from the ground and he would ride that deep yet light feeling until the flowers would wilt. So, Jon made it his mission to always have fresh flowers arranged in that perfect particular way he had been taught. The feeling renewed, over and over again, as true as the seasons and right as rain. Damian's small smile gave him the same energy as the sun.

Jon hummed arranging the bouquet. He left a yellow rose out, to be used separately. When done he took a step back, satisfied with his work. He picked up the lone rose and walked out of the cheery kitchen, smelling it's sweetness.

The sun was high up in the sky, the cicadas sang their song and the butterflies fluttered about. Jon followed the small dirt path, stopping at the base of the hill it led to and admired the giant tree at the top, it's shade casting a large shadow. To Jon it was not hard to notice Damian performing his daily tai chi exercises. Even though age had taken his ability to go out on patrol he still kept his physique in top form.

Jon lightly swept the rose on the top of his lip enjoying its scent, hiding the smile that inadvertently happened whenever he saw Damian. He doubted that age would ever dim the feeling he got, the warmth in his chest, the urge to hold. He floated up instead of walking and as Damian finished his last pose he slipped the yellow rose behind his ear, brushing his finger on salt and pepper hair, enjoying the surprise in those green eyes that he could stare at for hours, had been staring at for years.

"Tt, sentimental fool." But Damian did not remove the flower as he walked away to the bench to grab the towel he used to dry off.

Jon hummed, face turned up to absorb the dappled sunlight, aware of verdant eyes watching him. He opened his bright blues to lock onto Damian's softened green and felt that deep all consuming feeling swell.

The years had not been kind, but to Jon the good times overshadowed the bad and even though, due to his Kryptonian genes, he now looked more like a middle aged man nursing an old man in his retirement, he stayed. Jon was unable to see the age that Damian kept mentioning, unable to fathom ever leaving his side. All Jon could see was their long history, their successes, the fact that people in their line of work were still alive, thriving. That he was still here for him to hug, to kiss.

Love was too weak a word for Jon and age a hindrance only because it would one day take the other half of his soul away. Nonetheless, Jon smiled and took Damian's hand in his.

"I am not so old as to be unable to walk on my own"

"I think I sprained my ankle and need help getting down this hill."

"You're invulnerable."

"What should we make for lunch?"

"Tt."

For now, Jon will ingrave every last minute into memory and worry about what's to come on another day.

Damian and Jon are going to be disgustingly in love even when their old

i mean like yeah, their going to fight and argue and banter but that’s just *them* and you can see the puppy dog eyes as Damian walks away and the soft way Damian would talk about jon

idk I just really would like to believe in love and I think that yeah they’ll face *so* many ups and downs they’re still going to be together and their going to be just as in love as they were when they were younger maybe even more

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

AU where you're a minor god, living all the way back before the Archon Wars. you're not one for fighting- in fact, you revel in the quiet gentleness of peace whenever you can, preferring to stay out of conflict and take care of your little patch of land as well as anyone who happens to wander close. yes, apart from your pacifist nature, the other gods would agree that your unconditional love for everything that lives is what makes you stand apart from the others. every creature that you come across is cared for, whether injured or perfectly healthy, and in this way you manage to remain and live in your humble home, like you have for years. what the others are unaware of, however, is just how far your kindness reaches. it had been cloudy the day you found him, the air humming with unspoken electricity and rain. it never truly rained around your home- not unless you wanted it to, of course- but still, the sky spoke of things yet to come, and you watched outside, curiously. you were proven right when a small bird landed on your window, chirping and hopping about, clamping its beak around your finger and lightly tugging to get you to follow it. it leads you to the woods and through the trees before stopping at a small clearing and sitting on your shoulder. a monster lies in the grass, collapsed from exhaustion near a gaping opening in the earth. with a gasp you run over and kneel beside the beast, quickly taking assessment of all the injuries you see and can't see, when suddenly its body jolts and it wakes, wheezing and letting out a horrible, broken hiss. the creatures weakly grasps a spear in an attempt to defend itself, but you gently hush, nimble fingers quickly tying bandages around the gravest of wounds and gashes. slowly the growls and snarls fade to pained whines, and with some support you're able to get the monster to your house, to safety. you know it's from the Abyss- how could it not be? but it's hurt and you can help, which is far more important to you. the creature- calling himself "Foul Legacy" slowly learns to trust you, and you find that he's sweet and curious, always looking around at the sunlit world in awe. he follows you everywhere, minus meetings with the other gods, and delights in having you run your hands through his soft ginger hair. the first time he purred, you had to bite your tongue to prevent from singing from the sweetness of the sound. soon he's well enough to leave, but he doesn't. Foul Legacy continues to shadow you, always following the same path you wander, resting his head on your lap as you read in the fields. he likes it here, in the sun, with you, and you say nothing because you love having him here just as much as he loves being here. the local humans, mortal and unknowing of the Abyss, have started calling him your companion, to which you always laugh and correct them, because you're each other's companions. it makes Foul Legacy purr and chirp happily when you say that, nuzzling his head into your hands and listening to your gentle laughter, a peaceful, quiet, happy life. then Celestia opened up seats- seven seats, seven gods, one for each nation. no more, no less. you're one of the first targeted, of course, your pacifist nature making you a seemingly easy target. but Foul Legacy fights back, with twice the aggression and bloodlust, the attackers finding themselves fleeing in terror. he protects you as you protected him so long ago, and in the evenings he cradles you gently so you can fall asleep in peace. he's determined to keep you alive, even if you're not the Archon in the end, that doesn't matter as long as you're alive and well. he loves you, after all. one day, you're out caring for your plants. you're worried, they've been wilting, see, because of all the destruction. you sing for them- plants like song, especially the glaze lilies, and Foul Legacy turns his back to survey the area. there's the swish of a blade and a gasp, and his head snaps in your direction to see a sword protruding from your stomach, blood dripping onto your withered plants. a screech catches in his throat as he lunges to catch you, but you're already stumbling, death creeping its way towards you. and you, the sweet, solitary god who cared for even the Abyss, falls.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Of Thunder and Contracts.

Pairing: Yandere!Morax x Reader x Yandere!Baal (Genshin Impact).

Word Count: 3.4k.

TW: Kidnapping, Unhealthy Relationships, Mentions of Non-Con, Mentions of Physical Abuse, Intimidation, Soft Hades and Persephone Retelling, Spoiler Free.

It was raining, again.

Lightly, this time, just enough for you to notice, the sky grey but the clouds thin enough to let sunlight shine through in thin, golden rays. You held out a hand, watching as droplets gathered in your palm, letting the small puddle grow until it overflowed, dripping down your wrist, clinging to your forearm before finally falling away at your elbow, leaking over the side of the cliff you’d perched yourself on. There was thunder in the distance, but you paid it no mind. You couldn’t remember the last time any bolt of lightning had been bold enough to strike you.

You heard grass rustling somewhere behind you, muffled footsteps accompanied by an exasperated sigh, once they came to a stop.

“My goddess,” You said, as Morax placed a hand on your shoulder. “I fear that she may be unhappy with us.”

Another sigh, this one more airy, more wistful. You waited for him to sit down next to you, taking his time to cross his legs, to scan over the landscape, as dark and as deary as it had been since the day you arrived. You’d heard tales of Liyue’s beauty, jutting canyons and clear springs and marketplaces filled with the most wonderful things you would ever lay eyes on, but Morax was protective, over-cautious at the best of times, and you had yet to explore beyond Jueyan Karst, yet to venture beyond the watchful eyes of his adepti. It was better than it used to be, better than the days you’d spent locked away in another realm entirely, your existence limited to a handful of rooms and his company. You were far from happy to be kept on such a short leash, but you could admit it was preferable to being locked away in your kennel, again.

“And I fear that you’ve grown paranoid.” Fingertips on your cheek, long nails brushing against your jaw. You leaned into his hand mindlessly, but kept your gaze on the horizon, on the storm approaching in the distance. “You’re not in Inazuma, anymore. Baal has no power here.”

“She’s stronger than you think she is. Just as Barbatos can steal the wind of Snezhnaya and you can raise mountains in Sumeru, she rules the skies across all of Teyvat. To hold her accountable to anything less would be to undersell her power.” He laughed, but you refused to indulge him. “I’ve seen her wash away cities, tear her own islands apart. She’s not the type of deity to sit back and let something so important to her be stolen away.”

“And she intends to take you back with a sun shower?”

“She is not without courtesy.” Thunder crashed somewhere in the distance, and pale-violet lines formed branching webs across the sky. “She must want to give you a chance to make things right, before sinking your nation and anyone foolish enough to inhabit it.”

He pulled away from you, at that, but only far enough to draw you closer, to wrap an arm around your waist, slot you against his side. He touched you softly, now, as if you were something delicate, but he hadn’t always been so careful, so considerate. You still had scars from the first few weeks you’d spent with him, love-bites littered over your neck and chest, scratches down your thighs, deep enough to still ache, sometimes, when you tried to stretch or lay on your back. He’d been insatiable, back then, too desperate to have you close to care about how much he had to carve out of you to do so.

He still was, now, judging by the hand at your hip, the lips ghosting over the dip of your shoulder. The way he spoke to you, calmly, ever so slightly bemused. “Come inside. I’ll make tea and light the hearth, and we can keep ourselves warm until the storm passes.”

You nodded, letting him kiss the side of your neck and help you stand, once he’d gotten to his feet himself. You took a moment to brush yourself off, to glance enviously towards his permanently-white, permanently-spotless robes, and then to the horizon, one more time, the clouds now darkening, gathering, growing dark enough to blot out the sun entirely. You thought of your hometown, where the sky was always grey and snow was a constant threat, and you thought of the Raiden Shogun’s estate, all dim lights and shadowy hallways and downcast faces.

“You wouldn’t let her, right?” You said, and Morax hummed, curiously. “If she tried to take me back, I mean.”

“No.” There was no hesitation, no thought. Not that you’d expected any, when you asked. “I wouldn’t let her lay a finger on you, let alone take you away from me.”

You saw his smile, in the corner of your eye. Small, barely there, but no less possessive than any grin you’d seen him wear, since he took you into his loving arms.

“And, if I did, it would take far more than a few idle threats to force my hand.”

~

It rained the day after that, too.

And the day after that.

And every day, for the next six weeks.

Morax brushed it off at first, obviously. He didn’t deny it, but when you spoke of Baal, when you mentioned her temper, her jealousy, her fondness for divine retribution, but he would laugh and smile and kiss your forehead, asking if you were feeling unwell, if he’d left you in isolation for a little too long.

His worries were saved for his servants, for his adepti, for the hushed conversations he held when he thought you were out of earshot, when he couldn’t know you were lurking on the other side of his door, listening in as he discussed his concerns with advisors he trusted so much more than you. His fears, his anxieties – those were saved for the night, for the darkness, for the sound of rainfall on the rooftop of his temple, louder than it’d ever been, before.

He was sitting up, when you opened your eyes, his back against the headboard and his eyes focused on something far ahead. He rarely slept, but most nights, he tried to pretend he did, to hold you until the sun began to rise and he was forced to attend to his responsibilities. Baal was never so domestic, never so shamelessly affectionate. She’d preferred to drag you along, hour after hour, day after day, until you were willing to rest your head in her lap and sleep on the floor of her war room. Sometimes, if she was feeling generous, she’d have her servants bring you blankets, pillows, things more comfortable than marble and stone. Sometimes, oftentimes, she was not so attentive.

Your voice was heavy, barely audible, weighed down by dread and exhaustion in equal parts. “It’s getting worse.”

“It’s only your imagination, my love.” He sounded distant, his attention clearly elsewhere. “It always rains like this, in the summer. Canyons fill, rivers overflow, a few villagers might be displaced by the flood, but nothing more. You’ll be used to it by the time the seasons change.”

“The seasons have changed. It's nearly autumn.” You placed your hand over his. “Please. Even if you don’t believe me, find the strength to indulge my inane ramblings.”

He was silent, for a moment.

Then, he sighed, shaking his head, and closed his eyes completely. “Come here. If I am to have strength, I’d like to have my greatest weakness as close as possible.”

You obeyed without a second thought, pushing away the sheets, crawling to his side and settling against him, resting your head against his broad chest. You felt him relax, wrap an arm around your waist, letting you watch as strips of faint light raced over his skin, as if he’d been born with molten gold in his veins rather than blood. It’d seemed alien, at first, yet another inhuman trait for you to be wary of and avoid, accordingly. Now, you could only think of Baal’s eyes, of the way they’d glowed whenever you said her name.

“I didn’t know she was so fond of you,” He admitted, reluctantly, his free hand moving toward your leg, blunt nails tracing aimless patterns into your thigh. “I saw the way she treated you. I assumed you were a plaything to her and little more. I thought, if I brought you to Liyue, she wouldn’t mourn your loss.”

Of course. He hadn’t been there, hadn’t seen how gentle she could be, hadn’t felt her hands in yours, her fingertips on your chest, her lips on the column of your throat. He hadn’t witnessed her kinder moments, hadn’t tasted the desserts she shared with you, hadn’t listened to the promises of an eternity spent in each other’s arms. He hadn’t known her, not truly, not as you did, and he never would. Those were the moments he could not have, the memories you would never give him. Those were the things you would never allow him to take from you.

“Her love is… complex,” You managed, instead. “It can be difficult to judge, as an onlooker.”

Your lackluster response earned a small huff, a tug, pulling you into the space between his open legs. “I meant what I said. She can’t take you away from me. She doesn’t have any right to.”

You nodded, not that he could’ve noticed. “I know.”

“She’s a child, compared to me, an impetuous child who never learned to take care of her toys. I’m kinder than she is. I deserve you more than she does. You’d have a far happier life with me than you would, with her.” Thunder rolled, the sound low, sharp, deafening. You counted the seconds, waiting for lightning, but it never came. “I love you. You love me, too. More than you could’ve ever loved her.”

Had you told him that? Made the effort to find such generous words and whisper them to him, so sweetly, so softly, over and over and over again? You couldn’t imagine why you would. “I know.”

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t sacrifice, in your name. If a few of my subjects have to drown, then so be it.” His voice didn’t shake, his cadence didn’t waver, but his grip around you tightened, and you knew that he was not a heartless man. Your presence alone was evidence enough of that. “I don’t want to give you up.”

“I know.”

Now, the lightning came, bright enough to dull his own glowing veins.

“And yet, I’m afraid you won’t have any other choice.”

~

You weren’t supposed to see the harbor, like this.

Dark, downcast, houses abandoned and storefronts boarded up, doors and windows sealed in hopes of keeping out the rising water, the swells that lapped at the docks like the tongue of some great, wrathful monster. The sky was dark as far as the eye could see, as black as night and as deep as the ocean underneath it, with only torrents of rain and the occasional flash of lightning to disturb its stillness. You walked over the bay, allowing the waves to part for you, trusting the sea to freeze underneath your heels. The rain did not touch you. The world could flood, her storm growing and growing until it engulfed the entirely of Teyvat, and you would sit on top of it all, untouched, unharmed.

You were almost tempted to push forward, to test the limits of her mercy, but something caught your wrist as you moved to step forward, a hand, with fingers as smooth as marble and as warm as a blade, left to soak in the sun for an hour too long. Morax had always attempted to present himself as human, around you, to shrink himself down and make you feel as if you were being held captive by anything other than a god, but his composure slipped, now, his control wavering, his form looming over yours, his horns curving over his skull, fangs just visible behind his parted lips. You preferred it – his truer shape, the form he took for his people, not his lover. You liked knowing there was still room in his heart for both.

“You shouldn’t be here.” You shouldn’t. You’d had to beg one of his adepti, the one with wings and a soft spot for things that appeared to be human, to brave the storm and take you to the outskirts of Liyue Harbor. It’s taken you hours to find your way, to navigate the empty streets and assess the damage with your own eyes. You could understand why he hadn’t wanted you to see it, to be among the destruction, even if you couldn’t forgive him for trying to keep it from you. “I told you to stay in Jueyan Karst.”

“Your city is drowning, Morax.” Denying it would’ve been a fool’s errand, an exercise in futility, but his hold on your wrist tightened and you could tell he was tempted to try. “You can’t expect me to—”

“It’s none of your concern.” His tone was sharp, biting. His patience had run thin weeks ago, leaving his temper and little else. You could only be thankful his anger hadn’t managed to overwhelm his desperation, yet. “We’ll evacuate, take the civilians to higher ground. We’ll find shelter, scavenge for supplies. I’ll travel to Inazuma and confront Baal myself, if I have to. There just… There has to be another way to—”

“There's no other way.” You took his hand, now, and you watched as his composure faltered, his expression changing, morphing into something less dignified, something so, so achingly close to defeat. “Please. I know my goddess, and I know she only wants what you took returned to her. All of this will stop, if you only give me back.”

It was a quiet sort of pain. The kind that lingered, lived under your flesh, writhed and throbbed in the cavity of your chest and only made itself apparent when provoked, when brought to the surface, when his eyes met yours and slowly, slowly, he moved, bowing his head, letting you bring him closer until his face was buried in the dip of your shoulder and you could feel his breath on your skin, warm despite the storm around you.

“I love you.”

He’d said it a hundred times before, a thousand, maybe more, but he’d never said it so plainly, so vulnerably.

For once, you could believe he might’ve meant it.

“I’ll speak to her,” You started, slowly. “I’ll ask her to allow me to return to you, for a few months out of the year, as long as I can bargain for. I’ll convince her to let me see you again.”

You felt Morax relax, but you doubted the thought brought him any comfort. “Make a contract with me,” He muttered, so low, you could hardly hear him over the howling wind. “Promise me that you’ll come back. Promise me that you’ll find your way back into my arms.”

“I will,” You said, letting yourself lean into him, too.

“I’ll return to my goddess, and then, I’ll do everything in my power to return to you, as well.”

~

A letter was sent that day, written by your hand and delivered through celestial means your mortal mind could not possibly comprehend, and the rain stopped the next morning.

A ship was prepared, stocked with a crew of the finest sailors he could employ, and Morax saw you off in Liyue Harbor, under the guise of a merchant wealthy enough and charitable enough to fund the Qixing’s restoration efforts. He held your hand, and he kissed you, and when it came time for your departure, he refused to let you go until you threatened to drag him to Inazuma with you and let him face the Raiden Shogun’s wrath in your stead. You boarded with little fanfare, in the end, and stood at the helm until Morax was gone and Liyue was out of view, entirely.

Then, you approached the captain, and said, “Change your course. We’re going to Snezhnaya.”

“I’m ‘fraid we don’t have time for a detour,” He laughed. Your expression didn’t change, remaining stoic, humorless, and he chuckled, again, the unpleasant noise falling flat, this time. “Your husband paid for Inazuma. Can’t deviate from the plan without his approval.”

You sighed.

Then, you snapped your fingers, and an icicle erupted from the wood of the deck, tapering off less than a hair’s width from the captain’s neck. “Snezhnaya,” You repeated, sounding the syllables out as he cursed and stumbled backward. “Or I kill you, maim your crew, and give my husband’s gold to someone capable of following basic instructions.”

This time, he paid heed to your request, and you’d returned to Snezhnaya within the month.

You took your time, traveling at your leisure, stealing a horse from an inn-keeper who’d refused to rent you a room and growing reacquainted with your homeland, with its dangerous beauty, with the snow and sleet you’d longed for every time you stood under a clear sky or heard a raindrop hit the ground. You bought yourself a new cloak, tailor-made and lined with fur and thicker than anything you'd worn in years, and when you reached the capital, when you approached the Tsaritsa’s palace and the guards posted at its gates attempted to question you, you only gestured vaguely, freezing their feet to the ground and brandishing the Cyro Vision at your hip, the gift you’d had to keep hidden for as long as you could remember, lest you wanted to risk making any of your omnipotent lovers any more jealous than they already were.

“I carry the blessing of our Empress. I’ve already won her favor,” You called, as you walked past them. “You can tell me to where and where not I'm allowed to go after you’ve done the same.”

You found your Empress on her throne, reclined and alone, her attendants sent away in anticipation of your arrival. No words of longing were exchange, no sweet, sugary greetings – only the sound of your knee hitting the ground as you kneeled before her, her own hum of approval as you kissed the back of her outstretched hand. “You’ve been away for far too long,” She said, her voice just as melodic as you remembered. “Tell me of what you’ve accomplished, in your absence.”

And you did. You told her of Baal’s possessiveness, of her need to preserve the things she loved, and Morax’s righteousness, his obsession, his loneliness and how you quelled it, night after night, until he could not possibly imagine a reality you weren't a part of. You told her of the storms, the flooding, and of the contract you’d made with Morax, a third of the year reserved for his company and his company alone, and the deal you’d proposed to Baal, a few more months spent across the ocean in exchange for an eternity by her side. You spared no detail. When you finished, she pursed her lips, thoughtful and reserved.

“A storm is one thing,” She started, scanning over you, appraising you. “But I can hardly say it’ll start a war. Baal can claim ignorance, and Morax is a level-headed man. He’s not one to chase after what’s already been denied to him.”

“Not a war, per say,” You admitted, reluctantly. “But a disagreement, a resentment that runs deep enough pit the two against each other. And, next time they find themselves crossing swords, it’ll ensure that the conflict will be ugly enough to tear their nations apart.” You kissed her hand, again, drawing out the gesture out longer than custom would ever demand. “And leave room for our benevolent Empress to slip in and fill the gaps.”

“And you’re not afraid of Morax? I hear he doesn’t take kindly to mortals breaking his oh-so-precious contracts.”

“Your Majesty, you think so little of me. I’ve done no such thing.” You turned her hand over, letting your lips ghost over her wrist, next, then the pale veins of her forearm. “I promised Morax that I would return to my goddess, and in turn, rely on her kindness to return to him. I can’t be blamed for not disclosing who that goddess might’ve been.”

She laughed, the sound bright, musical, like cathedral bells or wind chimes or any of the other lovely, beautiful thing you’d deprived yourself of, for the sake of earning her trust. “And I couldn’t possibly let you stray from me again, after you’ve been gone for so long.”

“Alas,” You sighed, pushing yourself to her feet, perching yourself on the arm of her throne. “I will simply have to devote my full attention to my goddess until she remembers how insufferable my company can be, then.”

She beckoned you closer, and you kissed her, truly kissed her, just as you’d kissed Morax, just as you’d kissed Baal.

Just as you would kiss her again, and again and again and again, until she could think of you and no one else. Until she loved you, as much as an Archon could love anything that wasn't themself.

Until she needed you enough to fight for it.

[helpimhyperfixating]

Merman Jotaro living in Y/N's house. He stays in either the tub or in the backyard pool, or in an inflatable kiddie pool in the living room where's he's mesmerized by the TV

Stay - Mer! Jotaro x Reader

Word Count: 3589

Never in a million years did you expect your life to take a turn like this. You met and befriended a Merman a few months ago. He demanded that you return to him regularly - which you did. All in all, it was already crazy to think about. But then fall came and going to the beach was starting to get colder and colder. The merman - Jotaro - he didn’t seem fazed by the chill, you however, didn’t much like the cold water and breeze that accompanied visiting your local sea shark.

So, you explained that it was getting a bit cold for you to come this often and stay so long, saying you would come a little less but when spring and summer came around, you would gladly come every other day maybe even every day again.

Little did you know, a certain merman was not happy with that.

So here you now stood, in your garage, with a fucking massive Mer in the back of your pickup truck.

“Jotaro what the fuck!?” You nearly screamed when you saw him casually sitting in the back.

“Don’t be noisy.” Jotaro snarled back and you slapped his tail that was within your reach.

“I’ll be as noisy as I want! What the hell are you doing here?!”

“Good grief, isn’t it obvious?” He questioned and you splayed your arms out in disbelief, clearly stating that- no it wasn’t!

This ticked him off a little cause, were you really that dumb? Could you not see Jotaro had been trying to court you for weeks? And then you had the gal to say you were going to leave him and then get mad when he followed?! The fucking nerve.

When you didn’t get an answer and only had a silent death stare directed at you (as if that was supposed to explain things) you sighed loudly.

“Okay. Guess this is a thing now. You’re looking dry, so we need to get you in some water, come on.” Walking over to the back of your pick up, you unhooked the latches and opened the back, allowing for a flat surface for Jotaro to slip off.

After getting off with a loud smack, Jotaro started tiger crawling into your house. Looking around curiously as to all the new things he was seeing. So this is where you lived whenever you went away from him?

“C’mon keep going, you have to get up the stairs.” You spoke from behind him and he looked back at you with an eyebrow raised.

“Stairs?”

“Yeah. That, right there.” You pointed at the staircase leading to your second floor that sat to the right. “I’ve got to get you into the bath, mister.”

“Bath? You said you had a pool.” Jotaro spoke in confusion but you sighed.

“Did you really figure out that you could- oh my god.” You dragged a hand over your face and muttered to yourself ‘smart fucking fish’ before clearing your throat. “Any other day, yes. Today? No. It’s the last good and sunny day today so people are outside. It’s been forecasted to rain and get colder soon so people are outside en masse to enjoy the last bit of sun and I don’t want them to see you.”

“Of course.” Jotaro grumbled, a faint annoyed growl leaving him as he rested his chin on his arms. He simply sat like that for a few seconds, looking around before he remarked, “Your floor is dirty.”

At that you made an offended noise. “Excuse me, I clean my floors very well, thank you very much. I just didn’t expect a giant fucking merman to act as a duster and health inspection in one today.”

At that he huffed out a chuckle that made you crack a bit as well before you twice lightly slapped his tail, to both get his attention and urge him to go. “You’re really looking dry, let’s get you up those stairs.”

Easier said than done.

Jotaro was about a third of the way up the stairs now, but crawling up when you have a massive and heavy tail behind yourself that you cannot use to help yourself, is quite difficult.

Each move of his arm was met with an annoyed or angry grumble about having to do this. Why couldn’t your neighbours just be indoors then? Why did he have to do all bloody this? (Not once did the thought of going back to the sea cross his mind though.) as he was yet again lifting his arm to place it on the next step higher, his eyes suddenly widened in shock when he felt two hands be put on his tail. With a light pink blush on his face he looked backwards, seeing you with closed eyes and straining to lift his tail to try and help him.

“Jesus, why is this so heavy.” You spoke out through grunts, still barely managing to lift it.

“It’s twice your size, why do you think?” Jotaro answered with his usual gruff tone, but the redness of his cheeks flared out all the way to his ears when you wrapped your arms around it, pressing your chest to the back of it as you tried to lift it once more. “I-I’ll be fine. Just give me a minute.” Jotaro cleared his throat before turning his head forward again to get the image of you holding his tail out of his head.

Once he found himself calmed down enough, he continued his slow trek upwards.

- - - -

It took a bit, but Jotaro was in your tub. And by god did he not fit. Even with folding his tail, half of it was still hanging out.

“I- we’ll work on it.” You sighed before leaning over him, turning the knob that regulated heat all the way down to about 18°C to 19°C since you did a quick search as to what the ocean temperature was like during this time of year.

With that set, you turned on the tap. The water splashed onto his tail and Jotaro jolted for a second, curiously looking down at how the water flowed out afterwards.

Going to quickly grab a large measuring cup from the sink in your kitchen downstairs, you returned to your bathroom to sit beside the tub and briefly held it under the running water until it was filled, turning and pouring it further down his tail. A small, barely noticeable sigh of relief left Jotaro when you did that and you smiled a bit to yourself before starting to repeat the motion.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” You spoke between pouring cups, also pouring it over the part of his tail that was hanging out. You had put a towel on the floor by the crack of the door, already accepting that this entire room was gonna be flooded, so you had no qualms with doing it.

“I see it differently.” Was his cryptic response and you deadpanned.

“Of course you do.”

The tub was now filled for two thirds and just to get back at him a little, you filled your cup once more, before abruptly turning and pouring it straight over his head.

Jotaro didn’t flinch but he did turn his eyes to you, sending you a look, to which you giggled. Bringing your arm back under the tap, you filled the measuring bucket again, a sly grin on your face as you moved it back to his face.

Jotaro was faster though, as he grabbed onto your wrist before you could angle it over his head. “Y/N, don’t.” He warned, sending you a stern look. Your surprised ‘o’ face turned into a smirk however, as you simply tilted your wrist forward and splashed the water directly in his face.

An evil giggle left you but it was stifled when Jotaro used his free hand to grab the cup from you and throw it across the room, using his grip on your wrist not a second later to pull you towards himself.

Your balance tipped over the bathtub but you managed to catch yourself with your free hand, slinging your arm around Jotaro’s shoulder to stop yourself while the arm stuck in his grip now touched the tiles of the wall.

He had attempted to pull you into the bathtub but you managed to catch yourself as your upper body now hovered over it.

Or, at least, that’s what you thought.

Jotaro never intended to pull you into the bath. Releasing your wrist, Jotaro instead placed his hand on the side of your neck and jaw, putting his other on your side to pull you closer towards himself and lock you in place. All of this happened in less than a second and a surprised squeak left you.

Jotaro found the sound absolutely adorable and when his teeth nipped at the skin of your neck, you did it again, just much louder this time, making the merman chuckle.

“I warned you.” You heard the smugness in his voice, making you take a shuddering breath.

“O-Okay, I get it. Can you let go now?” You were starting to get very flustered, feeling Jotaro’s breath against your neck as well as an occasional brush of his lips on your skin.

Your question earned you another nip however, this time a little closer to your shoulder, Jotaro having pulled your shirt away a bit to expose it. “Not what I want to hear.”

“You want to hear something?!” You exclaimed, making Jotaro let out a ‘mhm.’ Him shifting his face, almost as if he was looking for another place to playfully bite at you. “I- I-“ You started rambling out things but Jotaro was no longer focused on that.

It was like you put a spell on him. Jotaro had never before felt the urge to court someone before. And then you stepped into his life, being so kind yet always ready with a witty retort whenever he shot you one. And now, he had you so close, almost pressed into his chest, breathing in your intoxicating scent.

Without pause, Jotaro opened his mouth and locked his jaw onto the spot where your neck met your shoulder, a little further down.

Oh how he wanted to claim you. He wouldn’t! But the thought of how he simply had to just clamp down and bite a little harder, marking you as his, was way too tempting to not at least tease. Just get a small taste. The tips of his teeth ever so slightly punctured through your skin and Jotaro closed his eyes in bliss.

All the while, you froze and swallowed, because, that was not just a little nip from his front few teeth, this was a lot of them. A slight pain flared up where he bit and you squeezed his shoulder that you were leaning onto. “Jotaro?” You meekly let out and he then started making a noise that he- was that purring? You didn’t even know he could.

You didn’t dare move nor speak a word, not knowing what was going on and just listening to the calming sound coming from him for the next minute.

Finally Jotaro figured that was enough, lifting his teeth away and silently admiring the very light and small mark he made. It wouldn’t scar or stay, but Jotaro already loved the look of it. He leaned his head down and ran his tongue over it, tasting the faintest bit of your blood as he licked it away, treating your wound with utmost care.

This you allowed, a bit more relaxed by the familiar behaviour, for he had done this as well when you had cut yourself on some broken glass someone had left half buried in the sand.

Finally he let go and you quickly shot up, standing straight as an arrow next to the bathtub.

Jotaro was being forward. He knew that. Maybe even a bit too much so. But he felt he could risk it. Now that he was literally in your house, he didn’t have to worry about his forwardness scaring you away. You literally couldn’t run and avoid him. If you hadn’t picked up on his signs up until now, he had to make them more obvious; marking where the mating mark would come being one of the most obvious things he could think of.

“That’s for not listening to me.” He remarked and you opened and closed your mouth like a guppy, staring wide eyed at your tiled wall before shaking your head and snapping out of your state, slapping your hand onto your shoulder, briefly forgetting he had just licked you there and scrunching up your nose a bit cause- ew.

Lifting your hand back off you wiped it on your pants before walking to the cup Jotaro had thrown on the floor, picking it up and walking back over, nearly slipping as you did. This made Jotaro flinch to try and catch you but you already steadied yourself, meaning all that accomplished was throwing more water on the floor, the reason you nearly slipped.

After returning to his side, you continued trying to completely wet him; neither of you really saying anything, just staying in a comfortable silence.

After another ten minutes however, you figured that was good enough.

“Alright!” Slapping the edge of the tub, you smiled at the Mer. “I think that’s good enough. In about three hours the sun will go down, then we can get you from here to the pool.”

With that you stood up, but before anything else, your wrist was grabbed. “Where are you going?”

“I have to do some things.” You smiled, only for the hand around your wrist to tighten.

Jotaro held a somewhat sad and somewhat angry look on his face as he held on. “Stay?”

“Jotaro, I’ve got to do stuff.” You shook your head but Jotaro didn’t like that.

“Stay.” He growled it this time, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“No, I have to go do things. You stay here fish boy, I’ll come check on you after I’m done.” With that, you went to turn away, trying to pull your wrist from his hold as you moved to take a step.

Yet you yelped loudly as you were suddenly tugged sideways, falling towards your bath before a pair of arms caught you. You were spun around and pulled down, the sensation of cold water flooding over and enveloping your lower half making your breath hitch.

The water sloshed dangerously, threatening to spill over the edge of the tub as Jotaro settled down, tightly holding you against himself and basically on his lap, his arms like chains around your middle and barely even giving you enough room to breathe, definitely not leaving you any room to squirm.

“Stay.” Jotaro’s voice was low, a faint, deep, rumbling growl from the back of his throat accompanying his words as he spoke almost directly into your ear.

Almost immediately you starred, instinctively doing as he said as you sat still, your eyes staring wide in surprise. Your chest was going up and down fast with deep breaths. It wasn’t that you were afraid of Jotaro, he wouldn’t hurt you, you knew that. It was more that it made you realise how large and dangerous Jotaro actually could be if he so chose to be.

Taking in a deep breath to calm down, you tried to ignore the coming stress of not being able to complete that task for work today (it was fine, you could do it tomorrow, right?), as well as trying to not make your teeth clack thanks to sitting in the cold water. Cause while Jotaro was made for it, you definitely weren’t.

Seeing as you weren’t trying to squirm out of his hold, Jotaro happily started purring, his chest pressed directly into your back while he placed his chin on your shoulder. Shifting his tail, he turned the end around until it was splayed out over your lap in front of you, allowing you to play with the fins.

You gently grabbed hold, starting to stroke over them and Jotaro revelled in your soft touch. You guessed this was gonna be your life for the next three hours. Freezing your butt off in water while in the hold of a grumpy Merman who would not let go.

- - - -

“Jotaro, please don’t splash!” You called out from the kitchen.

“I’m not!” Was the response you got, making you look over at your living room. There, past your dining table, in front of the couch, sat the ginormous Mer ...in a kids pool.

You had bought it about two days ago after Jotaro kept complaining that you weren’t coming outside to see him. He loved to ignore the fact that it was bloody cold and raining so hard that you only had to stand outside for a second to be drenched. So, to solve this and not have Jotaro forced to sit in the bathroom on his own, you bought a kiddie pool. One of the bigger ones you could find yet was still able to fit there where your coffee table once stood.

Right now, you were just making something to snack on while Jotaro sat and ‘patiently’ waited for you. He had discovered the television yesterday and was absolutely enamoured. Just now coaxing and urging you to turn it on again. You had agreed and were thus now getting some snacks ready to eat and drink during the marathon.

Marathon of what? No clue.

Walking over to the couch area, you placed the different snacks down on the pushed aside coffee table, walking back to the kitchen to grab the drinks as well before returning.

“Here, drink something first.” You offered the glass in your hand to Jotaro and he scrunched up his nose, as if a kid who has just been asked to take his vitamins. “You haven’t been in the bathtub in a bit and you know chlorine can’t be the best thirst clencher.” You sighed. “So unless you plan to faceplant in the kiddie pool, drink up, Jojo.” You used the nickname he had asked you to call him on purpose, knowing he loved it when you did that.

And it proved true, for he took the tall glass from your hand and threw it back as if it was a shot without any more complaint.

Happy that he did it, you quickly refilled the glass before placing it down on the table by his side, stepping over the furniture with a bit of a wobble (you had to put the table in the walkway or else the pool wouldn’t fit) and walking to the front of your tv.

“So, what do you want to watch?” You asked as you sat crouched down.

A wet hand suddenly got placed on your lower back and right thigh, Jotaro having pulled himself up to you as he was now curiously looking over your shoulder.

“What’s that?” Jotaro asked, lifting his hand from your thigh as he pointed to a certain dvd case sitting at the bottom of the pile in your hand.

“This? It’s a Barbie film. I have it for when my niece comes over.” You raised a brow and turned your head to look back at Jotaro. His eyes were transfixed on the box and you couldn’t help but silently giggle at his cute look. For him, it was the colours. The vibrant pink and silver sparkles just drew his attention and curiosity, having not a clue about anything else. “You wanna watch it?” You asked but didn’t get a clear answer.

And so, you just decided for the both of you. “Fuck it, let’s watch it.” You chuckled, putting all the other DVD’s away and taking the Barbie disc out of its case and into the player.

Standing up, Jotaro finally took his hand off your lower back - where now sat a wet spot - and slinked back to the other side of the pool, patiently waiting for you and for the movie to start.

Snorting softly, you shook your head as you grabbed the remote and walked around the pool, climbing onto the couch and to the middle of it, taking your fluffy socks off as you sat behind Jotaro in your short summer pyjamas, choosing the language of the Barbie film like they always asked before putting your feet in the pool.

A happy rumble left Jotaro as you did that, your legs running under his arms and at his side, the Mer now grabbing your ankles as he made you lock your legs around his torso, leaning back into the bottom of the couch as if it was a backrest. His elbows pointed down, he held onto your legs around his torso, making you keep them there as he petted and lightly scratched them. A content rumbling sigh leaving him as you pressed play on the movie.

You just looked at the back of his head for a bit, feeling his hands glide over your legs. It was a strange, the direction your life decided to take you on, sure. But you had to admit that you did not mind per se.

Leaning forward, you patted the top of Jotaro’s head twice, making him start a bit and look at you wide eyed while you leaned over and grabbed your bowl of snacks, leaning back into the couch cushions afterwards, ready for the movie.

In the end, Jotaro didn’t like it. Barbie was annoying. But the colours were pretty!

[oh-mydarling]

Come Back With the Waves

A/N: A lil fluffy Billie x Reader! I haven't done a simple Billie fic for a while so here it is <3

All week you had survived the endless days and overworking with the promise of the beach picnic you had planned. You had been sending each other recipes all week; you decided Saturday would be a day of getting work done, cleaning the house, and preparing the food for Sunday. The forecast was brilliant sunshine, and when Billie first suggested a day at the beach, you had positively lit up. 

The image of her in a little sundress, blonde curls whipping in the wind, eyes enveloping you in their depth under the midday sun, and the smell of her rosey perfume twisting delightfully with the salt of the sea had you gliding through the week with a permanent smile scarred on your cheeks. 

When you woke up on Sunday morning, after a busy day on Saturday and a late night in bed together, the ache in your cheeks was finally relieved with the frown that arrived. You sat up in bed and groaned aloud, catching sight of the grey skies and rain that blurred the window. You shook Billie lightly, whispering her name impatiently. She rolled over with a grunt though her eyes stayed closed, “mm morning, love”. 

“Billie, it’s raining,” you grumbled, pouting even despite her closed eyes. She was still too sleepy to register you, humming in response, completely unaffected, so you tried again, “Billie, no picnic!” You hissed, aggravated at this early hour. 

That got her attention, and you watched one eye open and look at you, then two. She stared at you for a moment before she sat up in bed, propping herself up on her elbows to look out the window, “Oh, baby, it’s terrible outside,” she commented, flicking her hair out of her face where it had fallen out of place with sleep, “looks like we can go back to bed!” She winked, flopping back down onto the mattress. You scowled, climbing out of bed despite her whines for you to return. 

You made coffee for you both, moving around the kitchen with a series of crashes as you threw your weight around, climbing up the stairs with two mugs and one frown, pouting at her the minute you made eye contact. She cooed, holding out her hands for you, “Ohhh love, we’ll still have fun today, don’t worry darling.” She whispered, kissing your hair when you lay against her chest, having put down the mugs in favour for her arms. 

“Billie I want the beach.” You huffed, and she hummed in thought, kissing your head as you lay in silence, twisting round on occasion to sip your coffee before you fell back into each other’s embrace. 

She put her mug down all too fast and whipped around with a playful smile on her face, “go and get showered, doll, we’ve got places to be!” She beamed, clapping her hands and waving you off into the bathroom with a confused frown across your face. 

When you emerged, she was perched on the edge of the bed with a giddy smile, jumping straight up and into the shower behind you as you watched her dumbfoundedly.

“Get dressed, darling!” She called out, and you set about turning on the hairdryer and sitting at the vanity, readying yourself for Billie’s mysterious plans.

You got dressed and lay back on the foot of the bed, not bothering to make it just yet. Billie was sat at the vanity, styling her hair and exuding a sunshine you only wished was outside like you had planned. She wore a deep pink blouse with black trousers, a usual outfit for Ms Howard, but it made you swoon all the same. You watched intently as she did her makeup, occasionally making eye contact with you in the mirror and giving you a little wink or blowing you a kiss, making you laugh despite your dampened mood. 

She finished getting ready and wandered over to you, picking up your hands to hold them in her own as she smiled down at you, “Now, we’re not going to let a bit of rain get in our way, are we, hm?” She smiled, stroking the back of your hands with your nails. You sat up and lay your head against her stomach, prompting her to release your hands so she could rub your head, scratching your scalp with her nails.

“Let’s go baby.” She punctuated her utterance with a kiss to your head before she was sauntering out of the room, leaving you scampering behind her. 

She was in the kitchen when you got down the stairs, packing up a bag and humming a tune you didn’t recognise. When you entered the room she whipped her head up, smiling brightly before ushering you out into the hall, slapping your ass as she passed you, “come on baby girl!”

You followed her out to the car and sat in the passenger seat, watching her curiously as she feigned innocence, brushing the rain from her coat before she started the car and winked at you one last time, pulling out of the driveway and leaving you still utterly confused.

“Bil, please tell me where we’re going,” you huffed, folding your arms dramatically and throwing your head back against the seat. “It’s raining! We could have just stayed in bed!” 

“Mm I bet you’d love that, wouldn’t you needy baby?” She taunted, causing you to roll your eyes and huff, shifting so your whole body was facing the passenger door, making it known to her you were in a mood. 

The journey lasted longer than you expected, though in truth you had no idea how long it would be, given your unknown location. You tried to maintain your pout, but you found your resolve weakening by the second, especially when she sang along to the radio and kept talking to you as if you weren’t grumpy with her. She left you alone in your tantrum, though, more than certain that when you realised the location you would soon change your mind. 

She drove you down a stretch of road and you instantly perked up, recognising the familiar line of houses and the restaurant you often ate in. “Billie, it’s raining, I’m not swimming today,” you grumbled, although admittedly very curious as to what she was planning. 

“Silly baby,” she teased, “we’re not swimming, honey!” She giggled, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

She pulled up in the sea front car park, right at the front as close to the water as possible. Just a small stretch of sand lay between you and the endless horizon of the water as it melted into the distance behind the stormy mist whipped up by the wind. 

She turned off the car and shifted to face you, laying a hand on your thigh where she scratched soft circles into your skin with her nails, “I’m sorry it’s raining today, lovely, but we can still enjoy the beach.” She offered you a small smile and you hummed in response, getting over your bad mood very quickly. 

She sat back in her own seat and reclined the chair, kicking off her shoes so she could tuck her feet under her legs and lay with her head back, closing her eyes as she tuned into the white noise of the rain that thrummed around you, enclosing you in your own bubble, much like Billie was able to do to you. You smiled over at her, layer upon layer of affection folding over your chest for you medium. She made you bloom like the freshest day of spring, despite the grey skies and rolling clouds. 

She could feel you staring, and snapped one eye open, crinkling her face up to keep the other closed, “darling stop staring and lay back,” she chided, though her voice held no real malice. She wanted you to relax, needed to see the knots of your anxiety unwind across her lap as you fed her your thoughts, and she knew the beach was often the place you found it easiest to peel yourself apart for her to consume. 

You followed suit, putting your seat back and kicking off your shoes, pulling up your feet to cross your legs on the seat. You closed your eyes, reaching down for the hand she still had on your thigh so you could clasp her fingers, interlocking them so you could rub soft circles on the back of her hand. 

A moment passed, two separate minds joined by the hands on your lap tethering you to each other as you wandered into the surroundings. When you closed your eyes you were closer to the sea, listening to it embrace the sand with its salty lips and withdraw again, a gentle whisper of hesitation. The salt settled on your tongue, a constant reminder of your whereabouts. The sand swallowed your toes, taking you in and breathing you out again in the coastal breeze. You were peaceful, free to fall into the arms of the ocean as it held you close and taught you the truth. 

The doubts that plagued you, those thoughts of self-loathing, were drowned in the cleansing of the ocean, and you were reborn. 

Even there, in the car parked on the tarmac with the blurry view of the sea, you were reborn. 

You were wrapped in a velvet shawl as her voice greeted you in the quiet of the car, slicing through the layers of ambient sound to land right on your chest, “How are you feeling baby?” She asked, so soft and so tender. She had watched you drift off out to the ocean of your mind, and she was reeling you back in ever so gently. 

“Peaceful.” You opened your eyes and sat up, smiling warmly at her as she squeezed your hand in a silent gesture of support. You needed these moments, the respite from the busy lives you led in the city, and she had expected your anger this morning was misdirected anxiety; you had no where to put it but in her hands as you bit at her, and she knew where you belonged this morning. 

She smiled at you, eyes twinkling with adoration, as she stroked upon and down your forearms, “shall we sit in the back, baby? That way I can cuddle you better!” She chuckled, laughing out loud when you wasted no time in throwing your body between the seats into the back, while she attempted to crawl over in a more dignified fashion. 

You were giggling and clumsy as you shuffled around, trying so hard to get comfortable and rearrange the clothes you had messed up in your climbing. There was a blanket on the back seat, and you grabbed at it, raising an eyebrow at Billie; she really was prepared. “Come here doll, let me hold you,” she mumbled, focusing her hands on wrapping your body up in the pink fabric as you watched her face, in awe of the beauty that resided within and leaked out onto her glowing skin. God, you loved her. 

She cradled your head and brought you to her chest, laying the blanket over you and tucking it in so you were completely covered. She wriggled a bit, slouching down so she was comfy, just in case you fell asleep like you often did in each other’s arms. You were both light sleepers, overactive imaginations and a very high baseline level of anxiety, but with each other you could be at peace for days on end without so much as a dream to distract you. 

“Thank you for bringing me here, honey,” you mumbled, voice muffled by her chest as you buried your face into her.

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be,” she sighed, squeezing you closer and laying her head on top of yours, content to hold you in her arms forever. You pressed a kiss to her neck and settled down against her, so sleepy and so reluctant to fall into a slumber and miss this moment here with her. 

“What’s on your mind, hm?” She whispered, as if she could hear the buzzing of your thoughts as you drifted in and out of reality. You hummed reluctantly, knowing she was aware something was going on. 

“I feel a little funny lately,” you mumbled, nuzzling closer to your girlfriend, seeking comfort in the warmth of her heart. She tutted, kissing your head, “poor baby, not feeling too hot?” She question, already knowing the answer.

“Tell me about it,” she requested, carding her hands through your hair as you nibbled on your nail anxiously, grateful she had let you stay there instead of looking her in the eye for her to read you like her favourite book. 

“I guess I just feel insecure at the moment. Like I don’t deserve you or my friends. I don’t feel good enough.” You explained, curling further and further in on yourself against her chest, despite her asking you to open up. 

“Oh angel, if you only knew.” She sighed, holding you close as she pressed kisses to your hairline, continuous whispers of her love against your skin. 

She grasped your thigh and dragged you onto her lap, making you wrap your arms around her neck instinctively, huffing out a laugh at the sudden movement. 

You shifted on her lap so you were facing her, slipping a thigh over her leg so you straddled her. She held your chin in her hand, keeping you firmly in place so that she could look into your eyes, her own brown ones drawing you in with their warmth. “You are more than good enough, babydoll,” she whispered, pressing the ghost of a kiss to your lips, so softy you weren’t sure if perhaps you had imagined it. 

She dipped her hands under the bottom of your jumper, passing her nails over your skin and drawing goosebumps across your flesh. You shivered under her touch, dipping your head so that you could lay on her shoulder, content to melt into her and be held in her bones forever. 

Her hands slid around you and you could feel her nails painting rings around your middle. Her finger tips walked up the steps of your spine and she felt across your shoulder blades, using the pads of her fingers to soothe the bite of her nails. 

You shifted your head to the side, kissing her jaw in a silent thank you as she relaxed each tense muscle in your body, unravelling the knots of your string for her to tie back into a bow. 

Her hands continued to creep up, now at your scalp, rubbing your skin and scratching slightly. She smiled to herself at the contented sighs you released, tension drifting away like the smoke of her cigarettes.

Billie Dean wasn’t always great with words. She often used metaphors and cryptic codes for her clients, ways to express the truths her tongue couldn’t form, and you had picked up on her language; you were able to translate it now. Here, in the back of the car on the rainy beach, she was telling you how loved you were. How special and how dear. 

“The people in your life chose to be there for a reason. Remember that, dear,” she whispered so quietly, as if it were a secret only to be shared between you. You hummed in response, quietly ruminating as she continued to run her hands all over you, making sure you could feel her warmth all over, despite the chill of the rain outside. 

The wind began to whisper to the car as the storm picked up around you, and you lifted your head from her shoulder to peer outside. The windows were fogged with your body heat and distorted by the rain, but another glimpse of the sea reminded you of its magic and you smiled.

You cupped her face In your hands and brought her mouth to your own, pressing long, languid kisses into her as you melted together. Her arms were on your hips and yours were in your hair, scratching at her scalp and smiling at the way she hummed. You kissed until you were both breathless, flushed and giggly and breathing into each other’s mouth, foreheads pressed together. There was no hurry, no destination. You were just enjoying her. 

It was silent there, aside from the quiet rumbling of the clouds and the steady thrum of the rain. Peaceful, pressed together and wrapped up in each other in a rare moment where only the two of you existed. 

The quiet around you made it even funnier when, out of the blue, Billie’s stomach rumbled and she chuckled, “oh god,” trying to hide her face in embarrassment. You were giggling, finding it oh so endearing, and you scanned the area for something to satiate her hunger. 

“Bil, we’re gonna have to drive somewhere, “ you smiled, still laughing at the blush across her face.”

“I’m not driving! We might lose our spot!” She joked, gesturing outside at the deserted car park. You rolled your eyes despite the wide smile you wore.

“We could always go to our usual spot?” You suggested with a glint in your eyes, and before she had even registered your movements you had jumped off her lap and out of the car. 

That’s how you ended up sprinting across the tarmac together, hand in hand and shrieking with laughter as you hurtled towards the restaurant, hair mangled and clothes sodden. 

“Y/N! I’m gonna kill you!” Billie was growling behind you as you ran ahead, tugging her hand with you.She was holding one hand above her head to shield her makeup from the rain though it did little to protect her mascara as it ran down her cheeks. 

You fell into the door, leaping under the shelter, and she stumbled into you, not quite prepared for the change of pace. 

The restaurant was small and warm, always smelling of fresh bread and pansies. You had been coming here frequently since you first started dating, and the owners were incredibly fond of you both. 

It was empty inside, aside from Mary behind the counter, who ran forward when you both stumbled in, panting at the warmer air and inhaling the homely scent of the place. “Jesus, what’s with you both?” She asked exasperatedly, though in good nature, “let me get some towels to warm you up with!”

You stumbled further in, slipping in a booth side by side and giggling like children at the hilarity of your actions. Billie snorted when she saw the soggy imprint of your body on the cream leather of the booth, making you laugh even harder. 

Mary returned with towels, bundling you both up in them despite your assurance that you could do it yourselves. She tutted at you and chided your foolishness. You’d catch a cold out in that weather, silly girls. 

She wandered off to get your usual order and left you pair wrapped up warm, giggling to each other like children who had just been told off. 

Billie took one arm out of her towel so she could wrap it around you, pulling you to lay against her, and you sat in a sleepy silence, both reminiscing over the place you held so dearly. 

Mary came over before long with a tray, “your usual for my favourite customers. You need something warm to fill you up, girls!” She smiled, brushing your shoulder as she retreated back to the counter where she was reading a book. 

There were two cheese toasties on the tray along with two hot chocolates, and you looked at Billie with a tender smile; she remembered. 

You settled down with the food and began eating, stopping occasionally to sip at your drink or offer Billie a bite of yours in exchange for a bite of hers. It was sweet and soft and simple, as were your favourite moments with her. 

“Do you remember our first time here?” She asked, taking another bite as she glanced at you.

You smiled, warmed by the food and the look in her eyes that told you she was back there too.

“Our first date. You wanted to go somewhere ‘quaint’” you teased, nudging her slightly. 

She laughed out loud at that, “little did I know it would be our spot for the next decade.”

“I love coming here. It feels like home.” You confessed, laying your head on her shoulder now that you had finished eating.

“Mm, it does indeed. It does feel magical, doesn’t it? Coming back here knowing how that first day turned out. I wish we could sit at our table back then and tell ourselves it will all be alright.”

You nodded against her, imagining that very scenario as she described it. How beautiful it would be. 

You curled against her once again, sipping your drinks in silence as you watched the rain stain the sand.

You had always adored the beach, the hot sun kissing your skin as you lay in its light, the sea whose whisper could coax you to sleep. The beach was your place and the sun was your home. 

Now though, you were beginning to prefer the rain. 

taglist: @loverofallthingssarah​ @lanawinters-ily​ @imstacysmomtm​ @goodegrrrl​ @twistedpoeticjustice​ @max-the-d0g​ @billiedeansbitch​ @lovelypeasantjellyfish​ @isle-of-earle​ @cordeliass​ 

If you’d like to be added to the taglist, please let me know! 💙

[aiiwa]

BETWEEN YOUR THIGHS ― IWAIZUMI, KUROO, BOKUTO, AND SUGAWARA.

✗ REQUEST: i’ve been seeing all over tiktok the whole lay between your s/o thighs trend (idk if you know the trend) but i wanted to see it with the hq boys. so could i request iwa, kuroo, bo and suga🥺.

― iwaizumi hajime, kuroo tetsurou, bokuto koutarou, sugawara koushi.

⤷ genre: fluff

⤷ warnings: suggestive content (everything i write at this point is suggestive lmao), i got lazy proof reading this but i’ll come back to it

⤷ word count: 3.1k

― a/n: i was very soft writing this hehe, also;

me to me: let’s limit this to 500 words per character

also me: almost writes 1k just on kuroo.

IWAIZUMI HAJIME

after two long weeks apart, with iwa having to travel overseas for work, he had finally come back home to you. work trips weren’t uncommon, but often left you alone, missing him more and more with each day apart.

it took everything in your power to hold yourself back from jumping on him, the moment you caught sight of his bulky figure walking out of the airport terminal.

and now the two of you were on your way home. after bickering over who would drive, iwa now sat leaned back in the driver’s seat, large hand engulfing yours on your lap and the other gripping the leather steering wheel; skillfully maneuvering your car down the snowy streets. fiddling with his long fingers entwined between your own, you bring his hand up to your mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand.

glancing at you from the corner of his olive eyes, you could see his soft smile under the flickering glow of the streetlights. he gives your hand a gentle squeeze, before his focus turns back to the road.

ten minutes pass relatively quickly, with iwa shifting the gear into park outside your shared home. he trails close behind you, warm breath tickling the side of your neck and duffle bag slung over his wide shoulder, as you unlock the front door.

“welcome home.” you whisper, tilting your face up to look at him.

iwa’s quick to drop his bag, spinning you around by your hips to pull you flush against him. wrapping your arms around his neck, you giggle at the feeling of his hands dipping lower to give your ass a loving squeeze.

“i missed you, baby.” he breathes out, before leaning down to capture your lips.

the kiss is sweet and slow, you indulge yourself in the familiar feeling of his soft lips; before his tongue darts out to trace against the pout of your bottom lip, asking for permission. you moan into him as your tongues brush against each other sensually, dragging your hand from his nape to caress his jaw; you jolt away as your palm brushes against the icy cold touch of his ear.

“haji! your ears are freezing!” you hiss, both hands now tugging at his ears.

chuckling lowly, he grabs at your wrists lightly. “ah, i know...why don’t you warm them up for me?”

“huh?”

overwhelming thoughts of how exactly iwa intended for you to warm his ears up, clouded your flustered mind. in a flurry of movements, he lead you into your bedroom; freeing you from the tight denim of your high-waisted pants, and having you perched up and leaning against your fluffed up pillows. the fuzziness in your head starts to clear up at the sight of iwa stripping off his long sleeved shirt, exposing the toned muscle of his stomach and chest.

crawling towards you and parting your legs, he presses a kiss to the inner side of your knee, before he flips over and slides his read right between your legs. you blink once, then twice, watching as he grabs your thighs, wrapping them around his neck and squishing his face.

“well, this...isn’t exactly what i was expecting.” rubbing your thighs against his ears to get used to the freezing touch.

iwa hums contentedly, patting the side of your leg. “mmm, don’t worry baby, we’ll save that for a bit later okay?” heat rushes to your face as he calls you out on your thoughts. “i just wanna lay here and feel you like this for now.” you push your hands against your face, feeling how warm your cheeks are, before iwa grabs at your wrists softly, bringing them over to kiss your palms. “just lie with me, okay baby?”

with your hands caressing the sides of his face, you nod, smiling softly. “okay, haji.”

KUROO TETSUROU

working together with kuroo for japan’s volleyball association was amazing. for the most part that is. it’s how the two of you met, he’d charmed you into a first date by his second week, and it was almost three years since then.

you spent every day with your boyfriend at work, and every night together in bed. but sharing a busy week schedule filled with back-to-back meetings, interviews with athletes for potential promotional videos, and late nights in the office filing the never-ending build up of paperwork - meant weekends were very much looked forward to.

lazy sundays being your favourite.

the day usually started well into noon, both of you enjoying the extra undisturbed hours of sleep - since the blare of kuroo’s six a.m. alarm wasn’t ringing in your ears. he’d greet you with a drowsy rasp - “good morning, shorty.” - making you giggle before dragging him to share a steaming hot shower with you; . and with a towel wrapped around your head, bare legs on show underneath the hem of your boyfriend’s large shirt, you’d sway in front of the stovetop flipping pancakes while a shirtless kuroo sliced up your favourite fruits - music from his playlist playing softly in the background.

if the weather allowed it, you and kuroo would sit out on the balcony of your apartment; basking in the warmth of the sun, admiring the way his hazel eyes reflected gold. yet this sunday, a storm was raging outside.

“why is she giving a rose to that prick yamato? fuji deserves it way more than him!” kuroo calls out.

you were only half invested in the bachelorette marathon playing. rain spat against the fogged glass; heavy lidded eyes followed the trails made by the racing raindrops. you were tucked snugly into kuroo’s side, a long arm wrapped around your shoulders, and legs tangled under the softness of the new periwinkle comforter you’d bought the other day. kuroo’s laptop rested on his lap, and you jostled about as he shot an arm out to point at the screen accusingly.

“are you seeing this, y/n?! now she’s choosing sachihiro! over fuji?!”

humming half-heartedly in response, you squeeze yourself closer to kuroo; dragging your hand over his bare chest, and resting it over his heart. you could feel his heartbeat against your palm, thump-thump thump-thump, and the steady rise and fall of his chest began to lull you to sleep.

the sound of your soft snores, pulled kuroo’s attention away from the show.

“shorty, you sleepin’?”

at your lack of reply, he chuckles lowly, shifting around to put away his laptop. you were always the first to fall back asleep, especially after eating good and coming back to bed to cuddle. pulling you closer to him, he smiled at the sigh you released against him; before pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead and resting his cheek on his pillow. the smell of your strawberry shampoo wafting around him, was the last thing kuroo remembered before he joined you in the dream world.

laying on your side with half your vision obscured by the fluffy pillow under your head, you blink away the sleep as you gaze outside the window. the rain had come to a slow drizzle, with the skies still fairly bright meaning only an hour or so had passed while you were asleep.

“tetsu?” you call out.

usually the rooster head would be pressed right up against you, but you couldn’t feel or see him. attempting to twist your body around, you find your movements constricted. it was only when you tried once again to lift your leg up, that a hand slid around your knee to halt your movements.

pushing yourself up a bit, and resting on your elbow, you glance down to find your boyfriend’s head between your thighs, back of his head pushed against your pelvis. because the two of your are on your sides, the full weight of your left leg over his shoulder has his cheeks smushed together; but kuroo seems completely unbothered, in fact he’s just scrolling through instagram on his phone. when you reach a hand down to tug at his inky hair, only then does he glance up at you.

“are you alright down there?” you ask. “can you even breathe?”

“i woke up here, and i don’t plan on moving any time soon.” kuroo hums, the vibration from his throat are ticklish against your inner thighs. “i’m living my best life, wanna see my new lock screen?”

without waiting for an answer, he shows off his new lock screen - which really happened to be a live photo displaying a collection of pictures with kuroo’s face squeezed between your lush thighs. you can’t help but laugh, kuroo’s cackling joining you. slightly embarrassed at the thought of someone catching a glance at his lock screen, you pull at his hair; complaining about the possibility of being exposed.

kuroo slaps your hands away from his hair, still chuckling. “i don’t care, shorty. i look good between your thighs, don’t you think so?”

flustered, you yank on his hair again. “shut up, rooster head.”

BOKUTO KOUTAROU

while waiting for bokuto to come back home to you from his training with the msby jackals, the last thing you expected was to receive a call from his teammates. it was your day off, and as you were loading the last of you and bokuto’s laundry, your phone began to vibrate - the bright grin of a certain tangerine-haired cutie flashing across the screen.

“hello?”

“hi, bokuto-san- ah, um, i mean y/n-san!”

you chuckle lightly at hinata’s correction. ever since you announced your engagement with bokuto, the younger male had started addressing you by your fiancé’s surname. in the background you can hear atsumu yelling out to you, followed by sakusa complaining about his loud mouth. you were more than familiar with bokuto’s close friends and teammates, from the countless team dinners and nights of drinks hosted at you and bokuto’s townhouse, you shared a solid friendship with everyone.

“ah, shou-kun, everything okay?”

“um, well i just called to let you know that bokuto-san didn’t have the best time at training today.”

‘oh no, poor kou,’ you thought to yourself, heart tugging at the thought of bokuto being sad. his somber moods were a rarity these days; it had actually been almost a year since he’d been in a slump, and he usually loved his trainings, so that meant today must have been extra tough on him.

“i see, thank you for telling me shou-kun.” after listening to hinata’s retelling of the events at training, with side commentary from atsumu and sakusa; you all exchanged goodbyes before ending the call.

with the chance to avoid being unequipped for bokuto’s gloomy return home, you were grateful for hinata’s thought to warn you. it gave you an hour, from his shower to the drive back home, to prepare some of his favourite things. normally it involved inviting akaashi over, but with him out of town, it left you to your own devices. though after being with bokuto for so long, it wouldn’t be that hard.

you knew your man like the back of your hand.

he was probably starving after practice, and what better than to cook some barbecued meat for him - his favourite, with the special sauce you always made just for him. after making some side dishes and rice, you set the table for the two of you, leaving the meat to stay warm in the oven while you went for a quick shower. bokuto made it know how much he enjoys the smell of your cherry bomb body wash, yet today you opted to lather on his orange body wash. knowing the smell of him on you made him crazy, you dried yourself off and decided to wear his old shirt from high school; the baby blue of ‘the way of the ace’ shirt, with the faded black characters.

you had just finished throwing your softest blankets and fluffiest pillows onto the couch in the living room, when you caught the sound jingling keys at the front door. leaping over the back of the sofa, you ran just in time for the door to open.

“kou!” you exclaimed, leaping as soon as you see his bulky figure enter through the doorway. his gym bag landed on the wooden floors with a thud, as he caught you easily in his arms. “welcome home! i missed you so much, baby!”

bokuto’s hold on you is tight. “hi, y/n…” there’s none of the usual chirp in his voice, and you squeeze him closer to you, peppering kisses on his face.

“are you hungry? i made your favourite.”

offering him a small smile at his slight nod, you slid out of his grasp, taking his hand to lead him to the dining table. when he saw the table set, barbecued meats on display, he tugged you to a halt; staring at you with round, golden puppy eyes filled with appreciation. you sat on his lap as he ate, with your arm hooked around his neck; allowing him to feed you, as he listened to you talk about your day. and when the two of you were done, bokuto offered to finish off the dishes while you lounged on the sofa waiting for him, netflix loading on the wide screen television.

distracted by the trailer of some netflix original film, your caught by surprise when bokuto slides face first between your thighs. with his cheek pressed against your pelvis, he shifts your legs over his broad shoulders, thighs almost obscuring his face from your vision if it weren’t for the frosted tips of his hair sticking out. running your fingers through the slightly damp, silken strands; you felt you relax in your embrace, releasing a contented sigh.

“kou?” he hums in response, arms sliding around your thighs as he nuzzles his face into your smooth skin. “i know today wasn’t the best, but there’s always a tomorrow. just remember that i love you so much, and i’m here...okay baby?”

lifting his head slightly, thighs resting by his jaw, he sets his chin just below your navel. staring up at you, he takes your hands in his, slippings his fingers between yours.

“i love you, y/n.” he whispers, slightly mumbled. “thank you for everything.”

giving his hands a loving squeeze, you start explaining the new movie you want to watch. and with his interest piqued, the two of you spend the rest of the afternoon in the comfort of each other; bokuto tracings patterns on your leg, and your hands tangled in his hair.

SUGAWARA KOUSHI

it had been almost a month since you and suga’s return from your honeymoon. after spending an amazing three weeks on a tropical island with your newly wedded husband; strolling along sandy beaches, scuba diving in clear blue waters, and spending warm nights making love under the stars - it was safe to say you were missing the time away relaxing.

so when daichi called your husband during the week to make plans for the long weekend, you were more than happy for a mini getaway to tokyo with your old high school friends.

and that’s how you found yourself, guava oil spread across your skin, stretched out by the poolside, and sipping your umeshu tonic through a pink swirly straw. the boys had decided to take a dip and cool off in the pool, while you and kiyoko had taken to some sunbathing. it was a little after midday, scorching sun at its peak; and the golden rays captured the sparkle of the princess cut diamond of your engagement ring resting between two matching, diamond encrusted bands.

“you’re going to blind everyone with all those diamonds, y/n.” blinking away the daze you’d caught yourself in, you chuckle at kiyoko’s teasing.

“speak for yourself, soon-to-be-mrs-tanaka.” you shot back, nodding at the glimmering engagement ring on her own finger.

the two of you giggled like little school girls, cheeks flushed and eyes closed in mirth; only stopping when a sudden wall appeared, blocking the warm sunshine, and shadowing over you. the wall being none other tanaka, suga following behind.

“kiyo~!” tanaka coos, leaning over his fiancé. “you look hot- uh, i mean it’s pretty hot, y’know.” 

kiyoko simply raises an arched brow, listening to tanaka’s rambling; which quickly turned into the latter throwing the her over his shoulder, and running back towards the pool. she hadn’t even protested at his manhandling, taking to sending you a look that said ‘what can i do?’. with the two of them gone, your full attention was set on the sight of suga.

now standing next to you, his hazel-brown eyes glanced over your laid out figure in appreciation; entranced with the way your bikini top dug into the soft flesh of your breasts, drawing attention to the deep valley of your cleavage. your own keen eyes took in the sight of his slender build; admiring the way his soaked canary trunks hung low on his hips, polyester sticking to his thighs and leaving little to your imagination. with his chest exposed, glistening under the sun as droplets of water slid down his toned stomach - it suddenly felt as if the air had become ten degrees warmer.

“hey there, this seat taken?” suga asks, tilting his head and running a hand to push back the damp, grey strands out of his face.

“oh, this seat?” you ask, gesturing to the lounge chair you were occupying.

your brow’s furrow slightly in confusion, though you gasp when he trails ticklish fingers over your thigh, before squeezing the soft flesh. “no, this one.”

chuckling, you hold your left hand up, wiggling your jewelled ring finger in front of you. “sorry sir, i’m a taken woman.”

suga just grins at you cheekily, leaning forward to press his soft lips against your own. this kiss is brief, but the lingering taste of his mango chapstick and chlorine has you a bit dazed; allowing him to part your legs and slide himself right between them. laying on his stomach, your legs rest by his sides, his fingers teasing the hem of your bikini bottoms.

“ah yes, that you are, sweetheart. and i’m the lucky man who gets to call you mine.” with his cheek is smushed against your thigh, his words come out slurred; but the dreamy look in his eyes as he stares up at you is clear.

“and i’m lucky to have you, koushi.” you whisper in return, the weight of him over you is comforting and you find yourself leaning back into the lounger; as suga nestles himself closer into you.

“mmm, i love this...laying right here between your thighs, sweetheart.”

© 2020 AIIWA. please do not copy, modify or repost my work.

[jenomark]

➔Pairing: Jeno x Reader (Female) ➔Other Members/ Characters: -.- ➔Genre: Smut (with a plot!) ➔Warnings: Sexual tension & Penetration. ➔Word count: 2,470

➔Summary: You haven't called your ex-boyfriend in two years, but he's the first person you call when you're in a bit of trouble. He comes when you call, thus sparking a night neither of you will be able to move on from.

Anon request #1: can I request an ex to lovers scenario with jeno where his ex and him decided to stay as friends and since always they had a huge tension and after 2 years they got really flirty or smth, thanks💖

Anon request #2: hi, I want to request a drabble about sex with jeno, thank you!!

Jeno looked at his buzzing cell phone and blinked lazily. He hadn't seen your number come up since you broke up with him, which had to have been two years ago. He had managed to stay friends with you over those two years, but you were never friendly enough to call each other at three in the morning. Still, Jeno picked up the call to hear static at the other end of the line, wondering if he would still feel the same when he heard the sound of your voice.

"Hello?"

There was more static. When he thought you might have pocket dialed him, and he was getting ready to hang up, he heard your voice. Time seemed to slow down in those moments.

"Jeno?" you said. "I don't have good service out here. I'm scared, Jeno."

Feeling his heart race, Jeno asked, "Where are you? What is going on?"

"Off the highway. My car broke down." you said. "Can you come get me?"

Jeno sprang out of bed immediately, tearing the covers from his naked body. He got dressed while keeping you on the phone with him, so that you weren't scared. He drove to where you were, pulling over to the side of the road. When you saw him, you got out of your car and stood awkwardly, wringing your hands together.

"I know I shouldn't have called you first," you started to say. "But i-"

"-It's okay." he said, meaning it.

Jeno was bone tired, but being in front of you made him more alert. Though you broke his heart, he was still so careful with yours. Jeno came over to your car to look at it, pulling up the hood like he had any idea what he was truly doing. You watched his muscles as he fiddled around with stuff, your eyes slightly glazing over.

"I don't know much about cars." he said, shutting the hood. "I'll call someone to come pick this up. Until then, I will drive you back home. It's too late for us to be waiting out here."

You nodded and followed him back to his car. He made the call quickly before setting his cell phone down in the cup holder. There was so much gratitude for him in the silence, but you couldn't seem to get any of your thoughts out. You were still thinking about his muscles, about how handsome he looked at nearly four in the morning.

"It's done," he said. "They'll pick your car up soon. You can figure out what to do about it tomorrow."

"Thank you." you said.

It had started to rain. A few droplets hit the front of his windshield before a whole sheet of rain came down, hitting the top of his roof as hard as rocks. He could barely see out of the windshield, so he decided to wait for the storm to pass. It was awkward inside of the car, and too quiet.

You cleared your throat. "Are you seeing anyone?"

Jeno looked over at you, his eyebrows raised in surprise. Seeing his expression, you realized what an invasive question it was. You tried backtracking, but you were sputtering your words enough to make Jeno laugh.

"Relax," he said. "I'm not seeing anyone."

You didn't know what you were thinking. Maybe you were too tired to think straight. Maybe it was the sound of the rain. Maybe it was the way he looked at you in the darkness of the car. You reached over and touched the hand that rested on the steering wheel until he looked you in your eyes.

"You got Lasik eye surgery." you said. "You used to look so cute in your glasses."

For Jeno, it was easy. There has always been sexual tension between you. Touching the top of your hand felt natural. He leaned over, grabbed your chin and kissed you. You made out, completely unaware that the rain had stopped. When everything slowed down, you were straddling Jeno in his seat, and his hands were on your ass. You parted, your eyes staying on his lips until he spoke.

"I should get you home." he said.

"You should come home with me." you said, surprising yourself more than him.

Jeno laughed and eased your body off of his. "I want that more than you know, but I don't think it's a good idea. I could never control myself around you. "

Jeno drove you home, the only sound in the car coming from the windshield wipers noisily wiping away droplets of rain. You followed the blades swiping left to right, your brain in a funk.

Breaking up with Jeno was one of your top ten mistakes. You weren't as wise as you are now. You didn't know what you had when you let it go. You had carried his hurt with you everywhere you went for two years. Though you remained as friends, there was always weird tension whenever you met up with each other. His group of friends didn't trust you, and your group of friends always took your side, even though each of them was in love with Jeno. Your shared friends didn't get into the middle of it, and you and Jeno spent 24 months skating around unspoken apologies.

"We never had a chance to talk alone." you said, finally getting the bravery to speak out. “There are a lot of things left unsaid.”

Jeno pulled up in front of your house. You weren't surprised he knew where you had moved to, because you had been dropping hints for months. You had always hoped Jeno would roll up one day and give you another chance you didn't quite think you deserved.

"We don't have to talk about it now. "It's early in the morning and we both could use some sleep," he said.

You hummed in agreement, looking out of the rain soaked window at your lonely, dark house. You looked up at the sky and wanted the sun to come up, to cast a pretty glow over you and soften the experience of sitting with your ex in his car.

"You're like my knight in shining armor." you said. "I owe you a lot."

You had your hand on the door handle. You wanted to lean over and kiss him the way he kissed you, but your bravery only went so far. Jeno seemed to be thinking a similar thing. His eyes fell to your lips. Before either of you could act, he unlocked his doors.

"Get some sleep." he said, rubbing his arms as if he were cold. "I'll check in tomorrow to see how you're doing. I don't want them overcharging you for their services. If you want, I can go with you to make sure they don't."

"Okay." was all you could say. You got out of the car, tapped on his window as a way to say thank you and walked up the pathway to your house. You touched your fingers to your lips and remembered the way he tasted.

Jeno stayed there idling while you put your lock into the door and turned the handle. Once you were safely inside, you didn't wait to see if he had driven away.

You walked into your home, not caring enough to flick lights on. You weren’t as tired as before. Making out with Jeno had felt like an IV of caffeine had slipped into your bloodstream. Your body felt swollen in places, your heart most of all. You walked through the rooms, taking off your bra underneath your t-shirt and flinging it across the back of your couch. Your foot was on the first step of your stairs when you heard a soft rapping sound on your front door. Backtracking, you walked back to the door and flung it open, crossing one of your arms against your chest to hide yourself.

“Hi,” Jeno said.

He stood rooted to the spot, his eyes darting frantically around your face. You had no time to greet him back before he stepped over the threshold and took your lips against his. You moved your arm and let him smash his hard chest against your free breasts. Your nipples were aroused and you knew he could feel them against the thin material of his t-shirt. You threw your arms around his neck and clung to him, savoring the taste and feel of him.

“I know I said no but....” he said, between kisses. “It was very hard to watch you walk away from me just now.”

You kissed him and bit down on his lip, pulling it lightly with your teeth before letting go. “Take me to bed.” you said. “Or the floor...the couch..i don’t care, Jeno, just take me.”

Jeno picked you up into his arms. He shut your front door and locked it behind him without ever taking himself away from your lips. He was strong enough to carry you upstairs without struggling, which made you even more aroused than you already felt.

“To the left.” you whispered against his mouth.

It was strange having him in your new bedroom, yet, there was something familiar about seeing him amongst your possessions. He felt like he belonged. Jeno set you down on your bed and let out a groan of approval when you wouldn’t let go of his neck. You tried to trap him with your thighs, but he had pinned your arms above your head, which made you release him. Your body relaxed, half hanging off of your bed. Your stomach was bare where your shirt had ridden up, so Jeno leaned down to kiss it. He pushed it all the way up to expose your bare breasts and take them in your mouth one at a time. He was really going at it, feeling them and teasing them, when you put a stop to things and slipped out from underneath him.

“Can you give me a moment?” you asked, your face growing hot. “ I just need a second.”

Jeno sighed but agreed. He sat on the edge of your bed and watched you slink into your bathroom. You tried your best to freshen up, to get the 5 a.m stink off of you. Your mind was frantic and thinking of a million things that could go wrong. You realized that you were extremely nervous. The door to the bathroom slowly opened to reveal Jeno standing there with his hands in his pockets, and all of those thoughts faded like ghosts into the foreground.

“What are you doing?” he asked, crooking his finger. “Get over here.”

It was much easier than you thought it would be. It was like two friends getting together after a long time, friends that knew each other’s bodies inside and out. You tore off your shirt, not caring whether your armpits were sweating anymore. He met your breasts and moaned in appreciation as his mouth got back to business. On the bed, he rolled on top of you, laying kisses all down your body. You lifted your head up and let him nip at your neck. You took your hands and placed them underneath his t-shirt to touch his abs.

“Well,” you breathed. “This has changed.”

Jeno could only laugh. He took off his shirt and let you admire his body, which had definitely changed since the last time you took him to bed. You touched the hardness of his chest, down to the smoothness of tummy leading down to his cock, which you remembered in every detail. You sidled underneath him and let your tongue taste the salt on his skin. You bit down on his shoulder and looked him in the eyes.

Your body had changed, too. You were softer in a lot of places, which Jeno loved. He wanted to touch and savor all of you. There was an overeagerness to him that stifled any remaining awkwardness there could have been. He bit down on your shoulder in response, scraping his teeth against your skin before he met your mouth. His tongue wound its way around yours for a few seconds, just relishing the feeling of them together.

Once all the clothes were removed, a desperation started to change the atmosphere. Things were no longer silly. He didn’t laugh. You didn’t go anywhere but in his arms. The rain on the window was quiet but present. The sun was seeping into your skin where you lay underneath him. There was a moment where he grabbed your face between his hands and held you there, his thumb brushing across your cheek. He kissed you sweetly, his lips full.

When Jeno entered you, it was like all the memories of your sex life came flooding back. You would always miss him inside of you when he wasn’t there, miss the full feeling that came when he penetrated you for the very first time. You had missed the sounds his throat made whenever he concentrated on pleasuring you. You hadn’t forgotten how skilled his fingers were at fondling you, or how each stroke never failed to make you lose all thought. He fucked your body like it meant something in the morning glow. He didn’t slow down for anything, not even when he felt your fingernails digging into his back.

He had let you take control. You moved on top of him and sank down onto his cock, holding onto his arms as you did. With your hands pressed against his chest, you moved. You rode Jeno wildly, bucking against his pelvis with abandon. He tugged on your hair when you tilted your chin towards the ceiling. He gripped your waist. He smacked your ass. He did everything in his power to bring you back to him every time you slipped away. Your eyes eventually found him again. You moved lower and rode him, your sweaty body gliding against his. He held you, his thick arm around your neck as he felt your walls contract, as you came around his cock.

You wanted to cry out, wanted to bring the room down around you. You kept fucking him, wanting to coax the cum from his cock, to feel the warmth moving downwards with gravity. You wanted to keep it going forever, but it wasn’t meant to be. It had been a long time since you two had made love, and your bodies were too excited to hold back.

You knew there would be a talk somewhere in the future, when he was ready. As Jeno screwed up his face in orgasm, as you felt the warmth of his cum, you were a little too happy to prolong that conversation. You wanted him in your life for a long time but, for now, you would take him any way you could get him.

[workofheart]

promise

levi never thought he could have a peaceful night’s rest until he found himself in your arms

requested by: @thecaptainsbride​ 

pairing: levi ackerman x reader

wc: 2.5k

genre: fluff, canonverse, establishing domesticity

a/n: we had levi comforting reader, and now we have reader comforting levi :’) in terms of the request, i altered the timeline a bit but i think it still captures what you were going for! enjoy u guys <3

Levi isn’t used to letting people into his space.

In this line of work, he’s learned to be careful of the people he trusts to see his life from the inside. Not only to retain the secrecy and plans of the Scouts, but to protect his well being when he is so surrounded by death and destruction. A heart can only break so many times before it fails to beat at all.

That’s why, when the night comes when he finally decides to let you stay over, he’s tense. He observes your every step, unsure if he’s nervous or embarrassed or scared. It’s not skepticism, he knows, because he does trust you. You’re the only person he could possibly imagine him letting get so close to him with all that he’s experienced. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have let you enter in the first place; so for once, he’s going to have faith his own judgment.

You slowly pace around his room, peeking at the knick knacks Levi has accumulated over the span of his life so far. He has quite the array of stationary arranged neatly on his desk, and a curated assortment of pens and ink to choose from. Worn, loved books line the shelves of the wooden case, small pieces of paper poking out from the top. A nimble finger traces over the cracked spine of one with a faded green cover.

“Can I?” you ask, turning over your shoulder to see him. Levi is sitting on the edge of his bed, palms pressed tightly to his thighs. He takes a deep breath and nods gently in response, dark strands of hair falling in front of his eyes.

You carefully tilt the spine towards you and pluck it from its spot. Flipping through the pages, you can see how Levi has diligently underlined, highlighted, and starred the passages. Small notes in his delicate handwriting decorate the margins with definitions and insightful observations. This book has been well read, and you’re sure the others are just the same.

His room is fairly bare for how long it’s been his home, but how much of a home is it really if he’s always on the move with the scouts? Constantly between hotels, barracks, abandoned homes, or whatever else the world throws at them next, he hasn’t had time to make the space livable. They’re never in one place too long - this is more like a headquarters to come back to after the day is done. And for Levi, the day is rarely done, even when the sun has set and the sky turns dark.

It’s strange, but he almost likes having you here. To him, it’s always been just a room. A simple, stupid box in a line of other simple, stupid boxes to house people just like him. Now that you’re occupying the space, though, it’s much different. It’s no longer just a room, but a sort of home. 

Your presence here gives it much more meaning than any trinket he might have placed on the shelf. Things in this room he’s never given a second thought suddenly burst to life with your interest in them, pulling memories from the depths of his brain as he recalls where he got them, when he got them, just because you asked. 

It’s much too easy for him, too, the way he imagines coming home from a long day to greet you at the front door. He pictures you perfectly, hair twisted into a loose braid, a soft nightgown hanging off your shoulders, feet sporting cozy slippers that make muted thuds as you walk over to give him a warm welcome back. He imagines quiet mornings sitting at the table for two, sipping tea and working through crosswords together. He sees himself reading aloud to you at the bay window, dozing off against his shoulder under the light. 

The thought of such uncomplicated, reliable domesticity with you is a thought he lets himself dream about. It seems natural, a routine he wouldn’t mind slipping into in the slightest, and you haven’t even stayed the night yet. 

He wouldn’t mind living here forever as long as you did too

When your curiosity has been, for the most part, sated, you return back and join him on the bed. You plop down, expecting to sink right in - why exactly, you’re not sure, because it’s incredibly characteristic for Levi’s bed to be as hard as a rock.

Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but the firmness is still shocking beneath your fingertips.

“Have you ever even slept in this bed?” You ask with wide eyes, hands pressing down into the austere cushion, trying to fluff it like it was a pillow. The incredulous smile adorning your face makes his stomach flip. He crosses his arms across his front as if to mask his heart beating out of his rib cage. He's never been in such close, private quarters with you before. 

Levi shrugs. “I don’t really sleep anywhere.” Internally, he shakes off his nerves, not wanting to embarrass himself by leaning into them. The thought of showing how bashful he feels alone is mortifying, but he doesn’t know yet that you’d only love him more for it. 

You can’t help but to tease, muttering, “I mean, I know of a way to break it in.” Your face is utterly serious, but your eyes, swimming with a mirth Levi is far too fond of, give it away. 

Levi diverts his eyes with a small roll to the side, the hint of a smile crawling up his face. He’s the last person you’d think to be flustered by such a thing, but it’s only because it’s you. “Go to bed, brat.”

You pout. “Only if you lay down with me.”

“I told you, I don’t sleep.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t lay down.”

You know your way around Levi too well, he thinks, or maybe he just loves you. The way you can get his resolve to crumble with a mere pleading expression must be some sort of crime. You read him like a book and know him like the back of your hand to a point where it would be dangerous if it were anyone else. Usually the thought of such a person would intimidate him, but he doesn’t mind being seen by you - not that he has a choice. Against your will, he doesn’t stand a chance; not now and not ever.

He sighs a long sigh and gestures for you to get in with a small wave of his hand. While he stands to close to blinds and light the lamp by his bedside, you scramble under the covers. The initial feeling of warmth covers your skin and makes you shiver as you adjust, crawling hastily under and pulling the blankets up close to your chest. They’re soft and clean and smell just like Levi.

He lets out a yawn that oddly reminds you of a lion pup, but you don’t mention it, instead locking it away for you to think of later on. If you said anything, he’d probably never do it again. Gently, he pulls up the covers on his side and slides under to join you, the bed sinking with his added weight.

“Goodnight, Levi.”

“Goodnight, dear.”

After laying for a while, staring up at the ceiling, Levi feels himself become drowsy. He lets his muscles relax, lets his jaw unclench, lets his eyes fall shut. Though he’s a bit puzzled as to why, sleeping now seems so inviting, and who is he to deny it?

From his side, you watch his breathing slow. It settles into a steady rise and fall of his chest, and his lips part slightly.

The progression is slow. At first, you work up the courage to slip your arm over his middle. You spend minute after minute contemplating, picturing him pushing you away, but you’re getting tired and enough is enough. You slip your arm over his middle and stay completely still; then, nothing happens.

Until moments later, when he rolls onto his side to face your direction. His eyes are still closed, rhythmically relaxed breaths leaving his nose. Then, you move onto your back and scoot up a bit further onto the pillows. He unconsciously curls into your warmth, shifting further into your body, and it makes you melt immediately, swelling with a giddy feeling. You’re almost worried the joyous thumping you feel inside your chest will wake him up.

Eventually, Levi’s head rests perfectly atop your shoulder, small puffs of air falling lightly on your skin. Your hands rub calm circles into the skin on his back where his t-shirt has ridden up, careful not to rouse him from his slumber.

It’s like that for a long time. You keep yourself awake, content with just holding him for now. You take the time to think, watching the flickering glow of the lamp, listening to his quiet breaths, feeling the muted beat of his heart on your hip.

It’s hours later when Levi sucks in a big breath, blinking awake in alarm. His head picks up off your chest and he looks around, finally settling on you who blinks right back. His lids squeeze shut and he mentally grounds himself as he realizes he’s safe.

“You okay?” you ask quietly, voice low as to not interrupt the calm of the night. Your hold around him tightens to let him know you’re there.

He shakes his head slightly and sighs. “Bad dream.” 

“‘S all right,” you say, hand moving from his back to his nape, “you can go back to sleep.”

He rubs his eyes, yawning. In an instant, he freezes, realizing the position he’s in. He’s practically clinging to you like a child would a toy, and he feels a familiar heat flush his skin as his head hangs. “Sorry.” He swallows. “I should probably start work.” 

He starts to push himself off of you to get up, but your hold on his shoulders is firm, pulling him right back down.

“You’re tired,” you say. “Stay. I’ll be right here.”

He sighs, looking around, before resigning and dipping his head back down to lay on top of you. He doesn’t feel like arguing something he knows he wants deep down anyway. He nuzzles his face into your front, shaking his head slightly as if to clear his mind of what was plaguing it in his rest.

“Promise you won’t leave,” he mumbles softly into your shirt, barely audible. He’s too tired to put up a mask for show, and he’s relieved to see that you don’t need one from him come rain or shine.

Your fingers card through his silky locks and brush them back from his face as his body finally sinks into yours, his weight a warming comfort. It’s slight, but you feel his head tilt just a bit further into your palm.

You place a chaste kiss to his crown. “Promise.”

☆☆☆

When the morning sun finally wakes and rises above the horizon line, Levi finds himself turning away from the beams filtering through the curtains. He feels the golden light on his lids, and he flips onto his opposite side, clinging to the cozy feel of his bed. The only thing that pulls him from his slumber is when his hand stretches out to find emptiness all around, your presence absent from his space where he so desperately wants you.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” you say, watching him shift slowly and gain his surroundings. You’re standing at the small counter across the room, boiling a pot of water on the stove - Levi can tell from the faint rumbling of bursting bubbles inside the steel kettle. He slowly peels his eyes open to get a glimpse of you, features seeming to glow with the light pouring in from the windows. He feels his heart skip a beat that he’s not ready for.

 Levi is surprised that he has slept in so late, let alone slept through the entire night at all. It’s rare that this happens - he almost wants to say it’s the first time it has occurred for him, waking up in secure comfort rather than burning fear. The only thing that could make it better were if you were right beside him.

Of course, Levi can’t bring himself to say something so forward this early in the morning. Instead, he mumbles a small, “Come back,” a hint of a whine to his voice that only you could identify.

There’s a muted clinking sound as you stir a spoon around in the porcelain cups you’ve prepared, knocking against each other as you try your best to pick them up. It feels like a juggling act, trying to bring them over safely. You don’t know how Levi makes it look so easy every time he brings you a cup when they are so awfully hot to the touch. He must have gotten used to it, or bears the sting for the sake of his collected appearance.

“I was planning on it,” you reassure him, “just had to stretch a bit.” 

Your feet pad lightly across the wood floors until you reach him, offering the tea which he graciously accepts. You set your own on the nightstand to cool while Levi takes his first sip immediately. It tastes just like how he makes it for himself. Considering he’s never explicitly shown you exactly what he does, he’s both surprised and deeply touched.

His eyes follow you as you clamor in next to him. He asks the question that’s been playing on his mind since he stirred awake hours ago. 

“Were you awake all night?”

He sees your expression falter slightly and knows right from then. Regardless, you brush it off without hesitation, nestling up to his side.

“No, no,” you lie casually, “I woke up a little before you did and went to sleep after.”

With a gentle hand, you straighten out the part in his hair, laying down the slight frizz from where his head was pressed into the pillow.

Levi looks at you for a long time, observing your tender gestures. He sees right through your words, and also sees the slight droop of your eyes, a hint of darkness beneath them. He thinks of you awake all night, petting his hair as he rests while you don’t, and brings a twinge of guilt to his heart. At the same time, his soul is utterly warmed and thankful. He’s not sure what to make of someone who’d do that for him.

He disregards your previous statement and instead addresses the obvious truth. “Don’t do that for me. You need sleep too.”

It draws a laugh from you. The way your eyes crease has his heart faltering. “I sleep more than enough, trust me.”

He peeks at you over the top of his tea cup, wishing he could freeze this moment in time, capturing how you look perfectly down to the miniscule curve of your lips so that he’ll never forget it. Maybe, he won’t have to.

He doesn’t need to ask because the answer is clear, but he does anyway.

“...Would you mind staying again tonight?”

[067supremacy]

Stormy Day

Song lyrics are in bold! Song used - James Blake - I’ll come too.

Trigger warnings: none!!

Summary: you spend a stormy day with your love!

Word counter: 1055

Kang Sae-byeok Masterlist

As your eyes fluttered open, the warmth you slept next to last night was missing. The usual bright sun that would blind you as you awoke was replaced by dull, grey clouds. Your unique, little beachfront home was surrounded by serenity.

The doors to your bedroom balcony were wide open, with a figure of someone sat ever so peacefully in a chair that overlooked the beach.

You finally unfold yourself from the endless amount of covers, slinging both feet down to the hard wooden flooring; the soft patter of your bare feet echoed louder into the ears of your beautiful girlfriend.

There she was, Kang Sae-byeok in all of her glory, sat peacefully as she watched and listened to the waves crash onto the shoreline. The gentle golden grains of sand lined the beach left to right. Even with the sun tucked soundly behind the storm clouds, you can see the glitter of each grain.

I'm in that kind of mood.

I've thrown my hat in the ring.

I've got nothing to lose.

With you

With you

With you

I'm in that kind of mood.

That wonderful ocean breeze whispers past your body like a love interest; it places a salty kiss upon your skin. Never underestimate the power of such a light breeze, as when provoked, it can leave a path of destruction that is unheard of. The waves roar so loud, nothing else can penetrate it; they leave white spray in the air as they collide with the rocky base of your beach house.

As you could sense a storm on the horizon, you remained resolute and approached Sae-byeok, where she sat one leg over the other. Two cups of hot liquid burning in a mug catch your eye on the table. "morning baby," Sae-byeok speaks in a raspy tone that sends a shiver down your spine.

I wouldn't do this on my own

But I'm not on my own tonight.

You take your rightful spot in her lap, curling your left arm around her neck and bringing her into a passionate kiss that tingles through every nerve you have activated. "did you get enough rest last night?" She asks as you take your cup of hot liquid, brewed by yours truly.

I'm gonna say what I need.

If it's the last thing I do

It's still hot and burns your senses when you take a large gulp. You turn your attention to Sae-byeok fully; her eyes search yours as you both get lost in the moment. Her spare hand's fingertips lightly caress your sides.

"I did, but what are you doing up so early?" you ask before planting yet another among many kisses that will occur today. Sae-byeok smiles sweetly at the bright glint in your eyes; the happiness etched along your face was all the assurance Sae-byeok needed to be happy herself.

"I woke up early, and you looked so cute when you were sleeping, so I just came out here to wait for you," Sae-byeok expressed while giving feather-light kisses to your check. Despite the weather turning for the worst, this feeling of warmth and love was too strong for any storm to take away.

Oh, you're going to the brink?

I'm going there

Why don't I come with you?

The two of you stay wrapped together, you in Kang Sae-byeok's lap, arms around her shoulders, your nose nuzzled into her neck, you inhale the sweet smell of her perfume; it overcomes your senses. It's definitely a smell you will never get tired of.

The first cold droplets of water fell from the heavens above, coating the beach belows golden grains. These drops are only rain until they reach the sea, then they become a part of the briny blue, moving with the waves as one. You guess star light is the same, shining as scattered seeds of perfect light until the return of the sun.

As you listen to mother nature take its toll around you, you hear Sae-byeok's breathing; it's calming and gives you the sense of security you had been searching for your entire life.

And so, you sit enjoying the company of each other, taking sips of your warm drink. No words are being said as you sit in silence, but the silence is welcome. It's the perfect start to your day.

And as you take a second to remove your face from Sae-byeok's neck, she looks down at you, her eyes flick down to your lips before she pushes forward and seals the sweet kiss.

A newfound respect for quiet mornings with your loved one was found in this exact moment. Everything that was going on in your life felt weightless. Like it was no longer looming over your head. She was a master at this. She could take every ounce of worry or stress you had and just crush it with the slightest bit of affection.

Everything around you became silent, and the only thing you could feel was her lips on yours. Every other sense was rendered useless right now.

Sae-byeok picked you up with ease and led you back into the bedroom, sure to close the door behind her. "how about we put on that favorite show of yours while we lay in bed and eat junk food all day?" and just like that. She made the day even better.

You weren't sure how you managed to get so lucky in life or how the goddess, Kang Sae-byeok, had come to love you, but one thing was for sure this was the best life. You wouldn't have traded it for anything.

The day went by in a flash, countless episodes later, and you were still tucked into Sae-byeok's side as she watched intently. You couldn't help but chuckle at this, as she was always the one to suggest that this show wasn't interesting enough for her to watch it.

And as night fell and the storm outside fizzled away. You honestly had the best storm day ever, and it was all thanks to your storm partner. Kang fucking Sae-byeok.