#but still falling into place beside each other effortlessly because of how lovely it is to finally be cared for 🥺

[winwintea]

stolen dance

PAIRING ↬ idol!park jisung x fem!reader

TAGS ↬ romance, fluff, they dance a bit, there is totally no angst, i would never lie!

SUMMARY ↬ jisung has been teaching you how to dance lately. but is it really to teach you or is jisung using these dances as a form of escapism to hold onto a deeper secret?

WORD COUNT ↬ 2.8k words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ in classic winwintea fashion here is jisung's birthday fic <33 suffer.

PLAYLIST ↬ stolen dance - milky chance; show me the meaning of being lonely - backstreet boys

“Alright, alright, one more time!”

Jisung grins, as he claps his hands and beckons you to step back into the middle of the room.

The living room is bathed in the soft amber glow of a single lamp in the corner, casting warm shadows across the room. The faint hum of a speaker plays an upbeat pop track, its rhythm pulsing like a heartbeat through the air. A pile of mismatched socks and sneakers sits abandoned by the couch, proof of your long evening spent dancing. You groan dramatically, flopping onto the couch instead. “I can’t feel my legs anymore, Jisung. This is basically torture.”

“Nope, no quitting!” he says, darting over and tugging you up by the wrists. His hands are warm, steady, and they pull you effortlessly to your feet. “We’re not done until you can at least try to keep up with me.”

You roll your eyes but smile, letting him guide you into position. “I’m only doing this because you’re making me, you know.”

Jisung smirks. “And because you secretly love it. Admit it, you want to keep up with me on stage one day.”

“Oh, sure,” you laugh, stumbling a little as he begins to guide you through a spin. “Me, a world-class dancer. We’re talking about K-pop standards too. Totally believable.”

“Hey, don’t doubt yourself like that!” Jisung says, catching your hand to stop your wobble. “Besides, I’m a great teacher. You’ll be better than me in no time.”

“Better than you? Let’s not get carried away.”

He steps back, giving you a playful once-over. “Okay, fine, maybe not better. But decent. Maybe passable.”

You swat at his shoulder, which only makes him laugh harder.

The music shifts to a softer beat, and Jisung takes a step closer. “Alright, let’s try that one move again. Step left, then cross. No, your other left—”

You fumble the step, tripping slightly, and Jisung reaches out just in time to steady you. His arm loops around your waist, holding you close for a moment.

“Gotcha,” he says softly, his voice losing its teasing edge for a second.

You look up at him, breathless but grinning. “You know, for someone who claims to be a great teacher, you’re not very patient.”

His lips twitch into a smile. “And for someone who says they hate dancing, you’re not as bad as you think.”

The room feels still for a beat, the music fading into the background. Jisung’s dark eyes linger on yours, something unspoken passing between you. It’s the kind of gaze that makes your heart skip, though you can’t quite place why.

“Anyway!” Jisung suddenly blurts, breaking the moment as he steps back with a sheepish grin. “Let’s try again. I’ll slow it down this time, I promise.”

“Good. My feet are already filing a complaint,” you joke, shaking off the strange flutter in your chest.

He grins, taking your hands in his again, and the music picks up once more. The two of you fall into the rhythm, tripping over each other’s feet and laughing so loudly that it drowns out the sound of the song.

The days start to blur together, each evening spent in the same corner of the living room. The small space becomes your personal dance studio, the furniture pushed against the walls to give you just enough room to practice. Jisung shows up every time with the same excitement, the kind that’s so contagious you can’t help but play along.

“Step, step, and pivot—yes! That’s it!” Jisung exclaims, clapping his hands together as you nail the move for the first time. His grin lights up the room.

You beam, sweat dripping down your face, and collapse onto the floor. “Finally! That only took, what, twenty tries?”

Jisung flops down next to you, still full of energy. “More like thirty, but hey, who’s counting?” He nudges you with his shoulder, handing you a water bottle.

You take a long sip and gasp dramatically. “I didn’t sign up for this boot camp, you know. What happened to ‘just a fun dance session’?”

Jisung leans back on his hands, smirking. “This is fun! Besides, you’re getting so much better. Look at you, two weeks ago, you couldn’t even figure out which foot was your left.”

“Wow, thanks,” you deadpan, though your smile betrays your mock annoyance.

The next night, the routine continues. The two of you move in near-perfect sync as Jisung teaches you a new routine to a faster song. Your steps are cleaner, your turns sharper, and when you finish the sequence without a single mistake, you both cheer so loudly the neighbor downstairs bangs on their ceiling.

“Oops,” you whisper, covering your mouth to stifle your giggles.

Jisung shrugs, unbothered. “Worth it. You nailed that!” He holds up a hand for a high-five, which you give him, laughing at how proud he looks.

But as the days pass, you begin to notice how your progress isn’t the only thing changing.

One evening, as you struggle through a particularly tricky move, Jisung stops mid-step. His gaze drifts off toward the window, his body going still.

“Jisung?” you call, snapping your fingers in front of his face. “Earth to Jisung?”

He blinks, shaking his head quickly. “Sorry, what? Did you say something?”

You frown. “You spaced out. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says with a too-bright smile, waving you off. “Just tired, I guess.” He grabs the remote and cranks up the music. “Come on, let’s run it again.”

You hesitate but decide not to press him.

Later, after another exhausting session, you collapse on the couch, panting. “I’m done. For real this time. My legs are basically jelly.”

Jisung sits beside you, his gaze soft as he watches you. “You’re really doing great, you know.”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere,” you joke, but the sincerity in his voice makes your heart skip.

“I mean it,” he says, his tone quieter now. “I just... I like seeing you like this. Happy. Laughing.”

You glance over at him, and for a moment, he looks... sad, though the expression vanishes almost as quickly as it appeared.

“You okay?” you ask cautiously.

“Of course,” he says, forcing a grin. “Why wouldn’t I be? You’re stuck with me, remember?”

“Lucky me,” you tease, but his words stick with you as the night goes on.

The dance sessions grow more frequent, his enthusiasm almost desperate. Every moment feels heavier, though you can’t quite figure out why. You catch him watching you sometimes, his smile softer, as though he’s trying to memorize the way you move, the sound of your laugh.

“What?” you ask one night when his eyes linger too long.

“Nothing,” he says quickly, spinning you around before you can press further. “Just... don’t stop dancing, okay?”

You laugh, brushing it off, but there’s something in his voice that makes you wonder what he’s not telling you.

The music echoes softly through the living room as you and Jisung move together, your steps slightly out of sync but improving with each pass. The rhythm feels effortless now, the usual fumbling replaced by a newfound fluidity. You’re laughing, breathless but exhilarated, when the sharp buzz of Jisung’s phone cuts through the song.

It vibrates insistently on the counter, the screen lighting up in the dim room.

“Hold on,” Jisung mutters, his usual smile faltering as he jogs over to check it. He picks up the phone and stares at the screen, his expression shifting to something unreadable.

You wipe your forehead with the hem of your shirt, catching your breath. “What is it?” you ask, noticing the way he hesitates.

Jisung’s thumb hovers over the screen, and for a moment, he doesn’t answer. Then, in a voice that’s a little too casual, he says, “It’s nothing. Just a friend checking in.”

You tilt your head, unconvinced. “Must be a pretty intense message to make you zone out like that.”

He glances at you quickly, forcing a small smile. “It’s not important. I’ll deal with it later. Come on, let’s not lose our momentum.” He sets the phone back down, face down this time, and crosses the room toward you.

Before you can say anything, he reaches for your hands and pulls you into a hug. It’s sudden, uncharacteristic, and tight. Tighter than his usual playful embraces. You blink, caught off guard.

“Uh, Jisung? You good?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he buries his face against your shoulder, his grip unyielding. When he finally speaks, his voice is soft, almost fragile. “I’m just... really proud of you, you know? You’ve worked so hard.”

The hug lasts longer than it should, and something in his tone feels off. You try to pull back slightly to look at him, but he only holds on tighter.

“Jisung, what’s going on?”

He shakes his head against your shoulder and releases you just as abruptly as he hugged you. “Nothing. Seriously. Don’t worry about it.” His smile is back, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Now, come on. Let’s run through it again. You were so close to getting it perfect!”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you press, still watching him carefully.

“Of course I am,” he says quickly, bouncing on his toes to reset the mood. “Now, less talking, more dancing!”

You hesitate but eventually let it go, letting him take your hand and spin you back into position. Yet, as the music starts up again, you can’t shake the nagging feeling that there’s more to the text than he’s letting on.

On the counter, Jisung’s phone buzzes again, the screen lighting up briefly before going dark. The message still sits there: "You ready to see her?"

The rhythmic click of Jisung’s shoes echoes down the hospital hallway, a stark contrast to the sterile silence that surrounds him. His hands are stuffed into his jacket pockets, clenched tightly as if to keep himself from shaking. The confidence and playfulness that had defined him earlier in the living room are gone, replaced by a hollow, heavy weight in his chest.

He pauses outside the door to a room, staring at the small plaque on the wall with your name printed neatly on it. His heart hammers in his chest as he exhales shakily, steeling himself before finally pushing the door open.

The fluorescent lights overhead hum faintly, casting an unforgiving brightness across the room. Machines beep softly, their rhythm steady and monotonous. And there you are. Completely motionless in the hospital bed, your face pale, your body almost swallowed by the thin blankets. Tubes and wires tether you to the machines keeping you stable, their presence stark and invasive.

Jisung freezes in the doorway, the sight of you knocking the air from his lungs.

“Hey,” he says softly, his voice cracking. He steps closer, his movements hesitant and unsteady. The sound of the door clicking shut behind him feels deafening.

He lowers himself into the chair by your bedside, his trembling hands reaching for yours. Your skin is cold, unmoving, and his grip tightens instinctively, as though holding on to you will keep you from slipping further away.

“I’m here,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “I’m here, so… you can wake up now, okay?”

The only response is the steady beep of the heart monitor.

Jisung leans forward, pressing his forehead against the back of your hand. His shoulders begin to shake as tears spill over, falling silently onto the thin hospital sheet.

“You know,” he chokes out, his voice thick with emotion, “I taught you how to dance. I mean, not perfectly, but we were getting there. You were laughing so much, and—” He stops, his breath hitching as the reality of his words catches up to him.

Because it wasn’t real.

The living room, the music, the laughter— it was all in his head. His imagination, his desperate mind, had conjured you up to fill the unbearable silence you’d left behind.

“I just…” His voice cracks again as he squeezes your hand. “I just wanted to see you smile. To hear you laugh. Even if it wasn’t real.”

The weight of the truth crashes down on him, suffocating and relentless. His mind replays every moment of the past few weeks—the way he had clung to the image of you, teaching you to dance, pretending everything was okay.

His tears flow freely now, soaking into the fabric of your blanket as he clutches your hand like a lifeline. The room feels unbearably quiet, the sound of the machines and his muffled cries the only noises breaking the stillness.

He sits there for what feels like hours, talking to you about everything and nothing—how much he misses you, how much he needs you to come back.

“Please,” he whispers, his voice raw, “don’t let this be the end. 

But you don’t move. Not yet. And Jisung can only sit there, crumbling under the weight of his grief, as reality continues to sink its claws into him.

“I thought…” His voice cracks, and he pauses, choking back a sob. He grips your hand tighter, as if that alone could anchor him in this unbearable moment. “I thought I could bring you back. Even if it wasn’t real—” His words catch in his throat, and he pulls his hands to his face, muffling the anguished cry that escapes him.

Tears stream down his face as he looks back at you, his expression one of complete devastation. “It felt real,” he whispers, his voice raw and broken. “You were laughing. You were dancing. It was like… like you were still here with me.”

He lets out a shuddering breath, pressing his forehead against your hand as he begins to unravel completely. “I just wanted one more dance with you,” he says, the words slipping out in a strangled sob.

The silence in the room presses against him, suffocating and unrelenting. His shoulders shake as he cries, the weight of the last few weeks crashing down on him all at once.

“I don’t know what to do without you,” he confesses, his voice thick with grief. “You were the one who kept me grounded. When everything felt too hard, you… you were my anchor. You gave me a reason to keep going.”

He lifts his head slightly, his tear-streaked face staring at your still form. “And now…” His voice falters, his lips trembling as he struggles to find the words. “Now I don’t even know who I am without you.”

His gaze drops to your hand in his, his fingers tracing over yours with a tenderness that breaks his heart all over again. “Dancing with you, even in my head… it kept me going. It made me feel like maybe… maybe you were still with me.”

He swallows hard, the lump in his throat refusing to go away. “But they stole it from us,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “They stole our dance.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and final, as Jisung lets out another ragged sob. His grief pours out of him uncontrollably, raw and unfiltered, as he buries his face in his hands.

The walls of the hospital room seem to close in around him, the sterile brightness only amplifying the darkness he feels inside. He leans forward, pressing his lips gently to the back of your hand, his tears falling onto your skin.

“Please,” he begs, his voice breaking. “Please come back to me. I don’t care how long it takes. Just… come back.”

His words are met with the same unyielding stillness, the heart monitor’s steady rhythm the only response. And so he sits there, broken and lost, holding on to you as tightly as he can, afraid to let go of the only piece of you he has left.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” he whispers, his voice hoarse from crying. He looks down at your hand, his tear-filled eyes blurring the sight of your still fingers. “I want to believe you’ll wake up, but… what if you don’t?”

The question lingers in the air, heavy and suffocating. He lets his head fall forward, his forehead pressing against your hand as his shoulders slump in defeat. “I’m so scared,” he murmurs, barely audible. “Scared that I’ve already lost you.”

For a moment, the only sound is the steady beeping of the heart monitor.

And then it happens.

A faint movement—so subtle he almost misses it.

Your fingers twitch beneath his.

Jisung freezes, his breath catching in his throat. His head snaps up, his wide, tear-streaked eyes darting to your hand. “Y/N?” he whispers, his voice trembling with a mix of hope and disbelief.

He watches, his heart pounding in his chest, as your fingers twitch again—just the slightest motion, but enough to send a jolt through his entire body.

“Y/N!” he says again, louder this time, his grip tightening around your hand. He leans forward, his eyes darting between your hand and your face, searching desperately for any other sign of movement.

The heart monitor continues its steady rhythm, the faint beeping echoing in the room as the scene begins to fade.

“Please,” he whispers one last time, his voice breaking. “Please come back to me.”

TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @yizhrt @polarisjisung @multifandomania @spacejip @peterm4rker @viasdreams @mango-bear

[mobius-m-mobius]

Hey! Change of subject. I thought of an answer. To what? Your question.

Lokius + reflection for anon

[stayevildarling]

can i request a natasha romanoff x female avenger reader when they are together for years then they are celebrating their anniversary but Natasha kind of forget about it cause of their work. When they are about to sleep reader said 'you forgot about our anniversary' leaving Natasha with a confused look but reader sleep it off. Fluff or ended up with smut i think? its up to you hehe love your fics!!!

- 🤸‍♀️

Natasha Romanoff x Reader- Falling back into us

A/N: Loved this request!! tysm dear anon🥰

tw/tags: established relationship, female avenger reader, smut (reader recieving, tasha recieving) oral, toys, fluff/hurt/comfort

word count: 3k

taglist:

@lunaticwhittaker , @billiebeanhoward , @lanawinters-ily , @kenzbro , @minaslittleone , @httpfiftyshadesofgay @whitelotus00 , @ninaahelvar , @paulsonsratched , @vintagepaulson , @isle-of-earle , @grilledcheeseandguavajelly , @lucyintheskywithxanax , @fanfics4world , @mymiraclewitch , @hazard-to-myself , @awritersometimes , @wastdstime , @p1pecleanerwitheyes , @queen2234 , @ihartnat , @lifebyinez , @ahsatanizgay , @blu3dimples

The days slowly slipped into weeks as life continued at its brutal pace. Both Natasha and you had been busy lately, days filled with missions or training and just overall Avenger things. And there was no inbetween, either missions where the earth was in your hands and about to end if the Avengers didn‘t save it or boring missions where you and Natasha often joked about any of the recruits being able to do those.

Having been beside each other for years, Nat and you would often be sent on missions together, it being your preference in order to keep an eye on each other but also because how effortlessly you both worked alongside each other. A glance was often enough, communicating in silence when either of you noticed a threat, knowing the other‘s move, Natasha always able to tell when something made you uncomfortable and you equally knowing if something triggered her and reminded her of her past.

And the two of you knew just how to soothe each other after a mission, long baths together, eating your comfort meals together or going out together, mostly enjoying the quiet embrace of each other and in each other‘s arms. Natasha and you had settled a while ago, your relationship a little bit of a rollercoaster at the beginning when you joined, as the Black Widow couldn‘t keep her eyes or hands off you but at the same time didn‘t want to commit, due to her past. But slowly the two of you got closer and now neither of you would have it any other way.

The last few weeks had been especially rough, missions after missions, some short ones and some long ones, some with and some without the Black Widow as the world was a little all over the place at the moment. Today had been another busy day, Tasha still on a mission, set to return tonight, you in and out of meetings with Tony and some other Avengers, all while training some newer recruits while still needing to look after your own form and stay on top of your shape. You knew it was your anniversary today, the two of you having talked about it once in the past few weeks but the subject not coming up anymore.

And you knew Natasha wasn‘t one for big sappy gestures but somehow you wanted to make her return special. Usually if she‘d be gone and you would await home for her, there would be a home cooked meal waiting for her and in return, if Tasha was waiting for you there would be pizza and some beers and the two of you loved both equally. Still you opt for your girlfriends favorite meal, beginning in the early hours of the evening and humming quietly to some music, the thought of the redhead in your arms soon, filling you with excitement. You decided on some cold beers still, assuming she probably needed them, as well as some candles and flowers. Usually the Black Widow would spoil you with the occasional gift or flowers and you noticed she never recieved flowers half as often as you do, the redhead appreciating other things more but still you wanted to make her feel special.

By the time you are finished, you draw her a bath and getting her some comfortable clothes ready and some warm towels, hoping the state she would be in, wouldn‘t be too bad. Time passes slowly and as you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket, your eyes read over her text of her being home a little later. In the end, you opted for a book and sat on the bed, leaving the door open and giving you the perfect view of her return, excited to run into her arms and enjoy dinner and maybe a bath with her, depending on her mood. But Natasha returned much later, there having been some initial issues with the mission and then some delay on getting home. She had been impatient, despite the missions success, wanting nothing more than to get home to you and coat your face with kisses.

By the time she steps through the now quiet apartment, the smell of food instantly hits her and she smiles to herself a little, loving you even more for this being her return ritual even after all this time. She sees the candles and flowers and wonders just what she had done to deserve this, a little oblivious with the stress from the past few weeks. After setting her bags and parts of her uniform down, she steps further into the apartment only to find your sleeping form on the bed, phone beside you and book still tugged in your lap, the signs evident that you wanted so badly to wait up for her. She wastes no time in silently making her way over, pressing a kiss to your forehead before disappearing for a moment. With practiced ease she blows out the candles, putting the food in some containers for tomorrow before disappearing into the bathroom.

When she returns, hair still damp she smiles as she sees your chest rise and fall gently, wasting no time to get into bed with you and wrapping her arms around you. Sleepily and subconsciously you pull her closer, your arms wrapping around her. „I‘m back detka, sorry it‘s so late“ she whispers apologetically as you mumble something incoherent into her chest. „What did I do to deserve all that?“ she whispers and you open your eyes a moment before whispering „You.. forgot about our.. anniversary?“ but before you can say anything else, you cozily wrap into herself further and drift off to sleep. Natasha‘s features falter at your statement, having been so busy she completely forgot the date today. Guilt fills her further as she remembers the conversation you both had about it a few weeks ago, now understanding the flowers and the lengths you went through for her tonight.

She sighs to herself as she tries to relax, her limps and muscles tired from the mission but her mind wide awake. The redhead can‘t help but feel like she failed you, being Avengers was tough without a doubt as well as important but you had always been more important to her and she can‘t help but feel like she failed you. She stares at the ceiling for a while longer, the image of you snoring softly in her arms relaxing her and shushing the thoughts on her mind until her body eventually forces her to sleep. By the time you wake up next, the sun blinds you for a moment and you sleepily remember Tasha returning home last night, the memory of her laying in your arms filling you with a sense of comfort and safety but as you turn, you notice her absence and your eyes widen for a moment as she would usually sleep in after a mission, the two of you eventually getting up after some cuddles and reconnecting.

Before you can step out of bed however, the door to your bedroom opens, exposing the redhead with a tray in her hand, her features both apologetic and guilty. „Good Morning detka“ she greets you, walking towards you with some fresh pastries, juice and coffee, as well as a little vase with a flower inside. You frown, knowing Tasha certainly wasn‘t one to get up this early in the morning after a mission. She sets it down beside you on the table before straddling you, plastering your face in kisses that have you giggling. „I‘m so sorry I forgot“ she whispers and you furrow your eyebrows for a moment before realizing yourself what the two of you had missed the night before. „It‘s okay Tasha I promise“ you struggle in between her kisses.

She stops her movements to look at you for a moment before whispering „It‘s not“ her features utterly serious as you see the guilt in her beautiful eyes. „You do everything for me detka, your my rock and I‘m sorry I forgot, you went through so much effort and I-„ before she can finish you shut her up with a kiss, your eyes sparkling as butterflies errupt in your stomach. „Tasha- we can celebrate today, it doesn‘t matter“ you reassure and her features ease as she relaxes into you further. The two of you stay like that for a while, your eyes locked onto each other. „You hungry?“ she asks with a smile, glancing over at the tray beside you. „Yes“ you mumble as she begins rambling about the food choices but before she can list them further you kiss her again, more passionately this time as your tongue enters her, leaving her gasping for breath. „Not for that though“ you whisper before her puplis blow and a low chuckle escapes her.

Without warning she flips you both around, the Black Widow on top of you as she begins exploring your body with her mouth and hands, her fingertips soft on your skin despite her lips leaving dark hickies all over you. And despite all this time, Natasha would always explore your body as if it was the first time, treating you as if you are the most delicate thing on this planet, despite her ruthless pace at times. „Tasha“ you moan as she moves lower and lower, having undressed you with ease, leaving you completey exposed. She doesn‘t waste any time as soon as she sees your glistening core, her tongue diving right inside you as a gutteral moan escapes you. Your girlfriend eats you out with ease, moaning at the taste of you, devouring you as if you are the last meal on earth and she is starving. Your fingers find their way to her hair, pulling slightly at every sensation. „You taste so good detka“ she whispers, her mouth on your clit sending vibrations through you.

„Tasha please“ you whisper and she glances at you, her eyes filled with lust and a deep desire to please you before she attacks your clit again, your hips bucking and before you can say anything else, her fingers enter you, slow and gentle at first to ease you into it but as soon as those familiar screams fill the bedroom, she wastes no time in getting you close, her fingers hitting all the right spots as she begins curling them, your hips bucking into her face as you grip the sheets, chest heaving and words leaving you, the only noises, moans and the occasional screams. „God“ you moan, which causes her to look at you, her fingers still inside you as your walls clench around you. „I‘m not god detka“ she teases but you can‘t hear her, too taken back by the ecstasy of it all and before you know it, her mouth is on your clit again, your juices beginning to flow into her mouth and your girlfriend picking up the pace again.

„Cum for me detka“ she demands and it‘s all you need to send you spiraling over the edge, your body trembling as her fingers still inside you, letting you ride out your orgasm as she licks you clean, sucking all your juices, leaving you a panting, moaning mess. Once she pulls her fingers out, she holds them to your mouth and you open, tasting yourself on her fingers, which sends a low moan her way. She gives you time to adjust, crawling on top of you as she kisses you sweetly. „Breathe detka“ she instructs and you open your eyes, remembering you forgot to breathe for a moment due to your orgasm. As soon as your eyes find hers, you can‘t help yourself, ignoring the slight aching of your body and the exhaustion, as you lay her next to you, attacking her swollen lips, your tongue entering her again. „Eager are we?“ she teases and you bite her lip in response, knowing it‘s her weakness and shushing her quietly.

You take your time to undress her, kissing every inch of her body, a new bruise and cut that formed from a mission, despite the eagerness and the equal want, this being essential to you always. Natasha‘s head moves to the side, giving you perfect access to her neck as she moans your name, your fingers slowly travelling to her clit and exposing her soaked center. „I love you Tasha“ you whisper as you travel lower, your tongue licking through her folds and collecting her juices. She watches your every move, closing her eyes as you your tongue explores her, gently. Without warning you take the small vibrator from the other side of the bed, having hidden it there while she was fucking you senseless. As soon as she feels the cold sensation on her clit, her eyes open, eyebrow furrowing but as soon as you hold in the button, the familiar vibrations spread through her, causing her eyes to widen and her breaths to become unsteady.

You can tell she wants to scold you for surprising her like that but the pure desire takes over as you hold it firmly against her clit, her body shivering at the vibrations as you didn‘t bother with the first few low settings, going max straight away. Your fingers dive into her with ease, her walls instantly clenching around you, her eyes finding yours, mouth slightly agape. „Detka.. don‘t stop“ she whispers and you smile, not planning on doing that anytime soon. You switch your movements from time to time, letting the small vibratior travel lower and lower before it enters her, your mouth attacking her clit before slowing it all down, leaving her a breathless moaning mess.

Knowing her body so well by now, you can tell she is close, letting the small vibrator enter her again as her hips begin bucking against you. Your hands travel to her nipples, pinching them gently before your mouth settles on her clit again. „Detka..“ she moans and before you know it you send her spiraling over the edge, her orgasm washing over her as her nails settle on your back, leaving marks. Before she can calm down fully and slow her breathing you take out the toy, abandoning it somewhere closeby before your tongue enters her again, wanting to lick up all her juices. Her eyes widen at the sensation and you smirk once you realize she is close yet again. „Cum for me Tasha“ you encourage her before entering her again and without warnig her juices fill your mouth, causing you to moan as you clean her up.

Her breathing is heavy as you settle on her chest, laying in her arms and watching her coming down from her high. Once she opens her eyes, her eyebrows are raised and you can tell you would pay for this next time but it‘s replaced by love seconds later as her thump wipes over your mouth, cleaning some of her arousal from your face. The two of you stay like this for what feels like forever as you steady your breathing together, your hearts beating in synch against each other‘s chest and falling deeper into the moment and holding each other. It takes a while before you move again, the smell of food causing you to lick your lips, which Tasha can tell. She stands up for a moment, getting dressed again and helping you into your own clothes before she hands you a pastry.

„Juice or coffee?“ she asks softly and you smile at her before whispering „Juice please“ she hands you a glass and you can‘t help but wonder why she set on such fancy cutlery and glasses this morning. „Couldn‘t you find the regular cups?“ you tease but Natasha remains quiet as she stands beside you, waiting for you to see. And just as you are about to drink, you see something sparkling in there and carefully take it out. The sight of the ring with a small but beautiful diamond takes your breath away and you look at her in shock, not understanding at first. It‘s when she drops on one knee that the picture falls into place, when your full name leaves her lips so perfectly. „Detka I love you“ she begins, your eyes already glistening with tears as she is still kneeling in front of you, holding onto your hand.

„I never want to stop coming home to you, be badasses on missions together and I never want to miss anything like this ever again“ she confesses and the tears flow freely now as she carries on. „Will you be my wife?“ she whispers, her own eyes sparkling and all you can do is nod, completely taken away by what is happening. She smiles to herself as she carefully puts the ring on your finger, having planned this for a while, this not necessarily how she wanted to do it but then her not being one for great gestures either and you both preffered it this way. Once she stands up, you pull her closer, wrapping your arms around her as you kiss her. She wipes your tears gently, a proud smile on her lips as she admires the ring and how hot you look as her soon to be wife.

Once you calm down and realize this isn‘t a fever dream, your eyebrows furrow as you meet her eyes. „Tasha I thought you didn‘t want-„ you begin but she stops you. „I know darling, I never thought this was for me but I never want to be anywhere else than with you ever again“ she confesses. And for the remainder of the day you stay in each other‘s arms, Natashas confession having taken your breath away, never expecting this when first meeting the Avenger, certainly not expecting this when you woke up this morning but neither of you would have it any other way. And one thing was for sure, Tasha would never forget an Anniversary again after this.

[unspuncreature]

Hairy trans obi wan and less hairy trans anakin hyping each other up on what masculinity is (every body is different, every body is amazing) through what they are each experiencing instead of letting each other get down about what media shows masculinity is (toxic, only strong looking and TRULY HAIRLESS are manly, any inch of fat or strand of hair is Gross And Dirty) idk if you see my ramblings but do you see them?

Also. Ofc. Trans sex.

LICHERALY!!!!!!!!!! your mind!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! t4t obikin is sooooooooooooo good

actually slightly to the left of your idea i’m also thinking smthn maybe occurs during or just after a non combative mission where dignitaries and such are all over obi-wan and praising what their society sees as his desirable classically masculine traits

meanwhile anakin gets the same attention in the form of condescending comments about how pretty he is and is seen by these people as unserious, eye candy and a poster boy for the republic. and usually he would be fine with letting obi-wan take the reigns on a mission like this but it’s downright insulting to not even be considered in this way when we was specifically assigned. these people adore his looks but see him as incapable because of them, dead weight to the real power behind the open circle fleet

later on after their meetings have closed obi-wan and anakin visit the city’s public bath in the evening, empty now at the late hour, before they return to their quarters to prepare for the next day

anakin has been insecure before but he’s seeing obi-wan in a new light after their different treatment that day

obi-wan is thick and hairy and full bearded where anakin is more wiry with a full mouth and a smooth jaw even after years on T

obi-wan catches anakin staring in the baths and anakin is humiliated to have been caught, especially after years of staring to… admire. his master is gorgeous. if he thinks about it sometimes aka jerks off about it sometimes… that’s his business. but leave it to him to get caught staring while sulking. he wraps his arms around himself and sinks under the water to his collarbones while obi-wan washes himself beside him, naked and unashamed

under needling by his old master, anakin opens up a bit about how he feels: dysphoric, feminine, dismissed, and praised for all the wrong things. how he feels like he doesn’t stack up

obi-wan pauses his bathing and makes his way to anakin, chucking his knuckles under anakin’s chin to encourage him to stand, and proceeds to describe all of the ways his boy should be so proud of the masculinity he’s grown into and cultivated for himself: the corded athletic lines of his limbs, the curve of his chest muscle that’s filled out so nicely over his top surgery scars, his strong and capable hands, the sharp cut of his jaw, his lovely little happy trail and the smattering of gold blond hairs on his belly

and of course poor anakin can only handle so much of his effortlessly handsome master praising him, gesturing at his naked body, looking at him with warmth and affection, before mortified heat crawls up his neck and he finds his tdick (smaller than obi-wan’s, he notes) getting plump, his hole getting wet, and the water only comes up to his thighs, obi-wan will surely notice and see—

and he does because of course he does

“you like this? being complimented?”

anakin is frozen in place as his master moves closer still, the water lapping at his legs

“yes, master.”

obi-wan fixes him with a pleased and knowing look, infuriatingly rakish in the way his damp hair falls over his brow

“you just finished telling me all the ways you disliked being fussed over back there.”

anakin thinks a spontaneously manifesting black hole to swallow him up would be welcome right about now

“it’s different. w-when it’s you, i mean.” emboldened by the steadfast form of his master only a breath away and the flush he can finally see now high on his cheeks, anakin closes the remaining distance between them.

“i like it when it’s you.”

the feeling of the soft damp thatch of hair between his master’s legs against his own sends fire licking up his belly.

“because it’s you.”

anakin barely catches the humid snag of his master’s breath before obi-wan is on him, hand squeezed tight between their bodies to cup anakin between his legs where he aches, mouth claiming his own in a wet, searing kiss.

“gorgeous, handsome man,” obi-wan pants as they pull apart, pressing his forehead against anakin’s to peer down between them to watch the way anakin squirms as he pinches and rolls his boy’s dick between his thumb and fingers. “let master show you.”

and if obi-wan thinks the way anakin whines at that is girlish, he doesn’t say.

they don’t make it back to their rooms for a while after that

[bontentrio]

questions about love

yunho x gn reader (short)

tw: angst no fluff + situationships + cheesy? maybe

a/n: pretty self indulgent lol also my picking for the member is simply because yunho is my bias (with wooyoung, but i’ve seen enough of him in this role sadly) but you can imagine this with whoever you like since i didn’t specify his characteristics besides being tall !! + not proofread

masterlist

what exactly is love?

is it to just feel loved and cherished by the one you care the most about?

or can it be found in the most random places?

in hand holding?

in lingering touches?

in soft gazes and shy smiles?

if so, then why does it hurt so much when all of that disappears?

if you closed your eyes and focused hard enough, you could still feel his perfume invading your senses, his touch on your skin, the sound of his laugh echoing in the room as he told you one of his stories about the many adventures with his friends. what a world so different than mine, you thought to yourself each time.

yunho has always been a hard working man, you knew that from the very beginning of your… relationship. kind of.

but he still made time for you at least once every week. and those nights felt magical for you, making you wonder if they were even real once you woke up the next day.

“one last kiss and i’ll let you go” he would say, holding your face in his hands as his thumbs caressed your cheeks. you would laugh, as it always happened.

“you’ve been saying that for the last hour!” you would say, making yunho bite his lip before leaning in once again. “it’s not my fault you’re so addicting”

it happened every time. and each time you would feel yourself falling a little more in love with the tall man in front of you. a little more addicted to the way his lips would feel against yours. and a little more comfortable when his hands would leave your face and go lower and lower down your waist.

it felt perfect, like you were both meant to be for each other. you could be yourself around him, and yunho would stop being “yunho from ateez”, only to become just yunho. your yunho. the one who giggles softly at the nostalgia some stories bring him. the one who would look at you like you were the one that painted the sky orange and golden, when the sun came up after a long night of talking about the secrets of life, among other things. the one who would kiss you like he had never kissed anyone else before.

so really, if love normally feels this way, so golden, so pure and unique, how can it be torn so quickly?

was it something you said?

was it something you did?

too slow? too fast?

too perfect?

what is love, then?

it surely can’t be being ignored for days. and definitely not asking a question, only to stop typing mid way and change the subject after an hour of not replying.

love isn’t supposed to induce anxiety

love isn’t supposed to be scary

or is it?

it is scary to get hurt, specially by the one you trust. but that fear is supposed to be nullified by that person. what happens when they don’t?

“hi” you texted him once.

no reply.

“can we talk?” you asked him later that day, after hours of not getting an answer. in fact, he has barely texted you twice in a week.

still no reply.

if it’s not love, then why is your heart hurting so much? you can feel it dying little by little, each minute that goes by without a single peep from him.

normally you wouldn’t even feel this way, even less for a man like him. but yunho quickly made his way into your heart, learning about the things you like and dislike, making you laugh effortlessly and blush with a single touch of his hand on your cheek. normally… no, scratch that. the connection you had wasn’t normal. friends don’t do all that. or maybe it was different for him?

how was he feeling about you?

did he feel the connection too?

was he scared? or did he trust you to not break his heart?

was he missing you the same way you did?

too many questions that probably would remain unanswered plagued your mind, day and night, no matter what you were doing. every buzz of your phone would make you immediately drop everything you were doing at the moment, just to see if it was from him. only to be left disappointed and sad when it wasn’t.

how can something so pure become so rotten, so quickly? what was once golden, now it’s painted in black and brown, as if it’s rusted and burnt.

maybe that is what love really is.

or is it not?

[pepsiboyy]

idk if you take fic requests! but maybe a fic based off of Greek God by Conan Gray. like Matt or Chris pretend they don’t like yn where they’re around their sport (whatever sport, you choose!) friends. they all have a really high ego and are cocky. but there’s a tension between M/C and yn bc they used to be friends until M/C got popular but yn didn’t so now they’re not friends cuz M/C let his popularity status get to him. but they sometimes speak on the down low (M/C doesn’t wanna be seen talking to yn) they’re families are family friends which is why they’re technically forced to still talk every once in a while. but eventually the tension gets too intense, and well, M/C can’t handle it anymore and it ends up turning into a childhood friends to enemies to lovers type story 🤭 ALSO, YN STANDS HER GROUND AND DOESNT LET M/C GET HER THAT EASILY, SHES NOT JUST GONNA FALL FOR HIM INSTANTLY CUZ HE FINALLY STARTS PAYING ATTENTION TO HER!! thanks!!

GREEK GOD.

pairing: chris sturniolo x fem!reader summary: just read the request :p warnings: cursing, mentioned of alcohol, being drunk, use of y/n lol, angst (resolved sorta) a/n: THANK U SO MUCH FOR THIS REQUEST!!! i hope it's what you were looking for, i spent a lot of time trying to make this work :") thank you so much for the request!!

i stood at the edge of the ice rink, my hands clasping together with high hopes.

i came to cheer on matt and chris, with nick seated beside me as he scrolled through instagram and snacked on some chips that he brought.

nick was my best friend, without a doubt. i told him everything. matt was one of my comfort friends. someone i didn't talk to as often as nick, but enough to where i feel fully comfortable talking to him about whatever may happen. chris, on the other hand...

chris was chris.

it was hard to describe the dynamic the two of us shared.

chris and i actually used to be closer than me and nick, or anyone, honestly.

he would pick me up when i fell, give me some of his snacks and even a sip of his pepsi if i wanted. he would reassure me when i felt low, and even put me in my place if he knew i was out of line.

before we knew it, high school rolled around. freshman year was relatively normal, sophomore year too.

junior year he started making newer friends, but he also had a different lunch period from the rest of us. i'd only really see him when matt gave me rides home.

senior year rolled around, and chris was a changed person. ever since he made it to the varsity hockey team with his new friends, he changed. he claims it's because we "grew apart" but we didn't. he goes out of his way to make me look bad in front of his friends, or even act like he has no idea who i am. it kind of made me feel stupid.

matt being on varsity with him didn't help his case at all, either.

so, when i came to watch them play, nick would sit with me and i would cheer on them both, even if chris pretended to hate me.

so, here i am. standing at the edge of the rink with nick, who was now standing beside me as we watched the two we knew and loved. matt effortlessly weaving past a defender, sending the puck flying towards chris, who sent it into the goal and made it.

the sound of skates cutting through ice was sharp in my ears, and the bright arena lights cast a glow over everyone while each and every cheer echoed in the cold air.

i remember when we all used to skate together freshman year here, the arena empty and our arms all linked together because i couldn't skate for the life of me, on matter how bad i tried.

those days felt like a lifetime ago now.

you had all grown a lot since then.

apart, apparently.

"hey, y/n, what are you doin' here?" a boy from the team questioned, skating to the glass with a cocky grin. "came to see the champ?" he asked, referring to chris.

i rolled my eyes and crossed my arms, allowing my eyes to trail elsewhere. "just here to support my friends." i mumbled.

chris glanced over, his expression neutral, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes - guilt, maybe, or recognition of the unspoken tension between them. before i could look away, he turned back to his friends, laughing at some joke i couldn't hear.

i sighed and took a seat beside nick again, letting out a soft hum as i did. the familiar sting of hurt and anger was beginning to get to me.

the memory of chris and i being inseparable, chris changing, chris making fun of me to his friends, all of it. it hurt. popularity inflated his ego, and i always refused to be an admirer in his little fan club.

after the game, i found myself lingering near the exit of the rink. i typically waited for the crowd to die and the traffic to slow down before leaving. it was too busy for me.

the locker room door swung open, and out poured the hockey team that was riding out the high of their win. chris was among them, laughing loudly and tossing his hockey stick over his shoulder. we met eyes for a moment, and his smile seemed to falter. until he leaned to a friend of his and nudged them, mumbling something to make them both laugh.

"hey, y/n!" chris called out. "didn't think you'd stick around here. still obsessed with me or what?"

i stared at chris with a deadpanned expression. "stop getting me to stroke your ego, christopher." i bit back, trying to keep my voice steady.

this shit was annoying, really.

chris's friends snickered, and he shrugged it off, turning away as if i were nothing more than an afterthought to him. "whatever. let's get out of here."

the group moved past me, their laughter seeming to echo in the hallway. i felt a lump form in my throat, but i refused to let anyone see me get upset over something to miniscule.

i knew this version of chris was a facade, but that didn't really make it hurt any less. the boy i once loved and cared for deeply was now buried under layers of arrogance and bravado, and i wasn't about to let him off the hook so easily.

the crowd began to die down, so i gathered myself and pushed out of the door, making my way towards my car.

as i walked towards the car, i saw chris again, this time with his brothers as they leaned against their minivan and talked about the game together.

for a moment, chris looked up, and our eyes met. there was a flicker of something in his gaze - regret, maybe, or a silent apology - but it vanished as quickly as it appeared.

he mumbled something to his brothers before he kicked off and made his way towards me.

"need a ride home? matt can take you." his tone was casual, but strained.

i stared at chris for a moment in disbelief, before quickly shaking my head and sighing. "no thanks. i can manage."

chris opened his mouth as if to say something, but then closed it, looking away. the silence between us stretched, and it filled with all the things left unsaid.

and with that, i turned on my heel and began walking home.

saturday. the days where the sturniolo household invited me for dinner were so much fun, genuinely. they were an amazing family. and chris typically acted normal around her when she was invited over.

i pulled into the driveway of their home, smiling softly to myself as i turned the music down. i pulled down the mirror and fixed my hand, humming to myself before taking my keys.

i was wearing something pretty cozy, just a crewneck and some bleached jeans and converse. they were like my second family, no need to get fancy.

i knocked on the door, where matt answered and pulled me into a hug of greeting. "hi, y/n," he breathed and smiled softly before leading me further into their home, where i was met with nick, marylou, their mother, and jimmy, their father.

"where's chris?" i questioned, the words falling from my lips faster than i could stop them.

nick exchanged a look with matt before he shrugged. "not sure, he just said he was going to some hockey party for their win last night."

i scoffed and nodded, taking a seat in my usual spot between nick and marylou.

the empty chair across from me was honestly quite intimidating. more than it would have been if chris were there.

chris was always the one with crazy stories and conversation topics.

we sat in a comfortable silence, though, which i'm sure nick and matt enjoyed as they listen to chris every day of their lives.

"you're still goin' to their hockey games and cheerin' em on?"

marylou questioned, and i turned to her and smiled. "yeah, they're really great, actually." i smiled softly, and marylou nodded.

"i know chris has been on a bit of an ego train, i hope he's still been kind to you guys." jimmy mumbled softly.

i swallowed and rubbed the back of my head. "yeah, he's been great, actually." i lied.

nick and matt stared at me, but decided not to question it before continuing their meal.

but then my phone began to ring, and everyone's attention shifted to me.

"i'm so sorry," i quickly mumbled as i removed it from my pocket and immediately felt every bit of air in my lungs leave.

why is chris calling me?

i rose to my feet and held up a finger, chuckling nervously. "i'm gonna take this," i mumbled quickly.

i made my way down the hall and to the front room. "hello?" i questioned softly.

"y/n/n," chris slurred on the other end. "i- i'm at a party, and.." he trailed off before giggling to himself, "i might.. need a ride home," he mumbled.

i sighed, rubbing my temple in annoyance. "where are you?"

chris mumbled an address, hardly coherent. "can you... can you come get me? please?"

i sighed to myself. "why can't you get matt or nick or something?"

"they'll get pissed," he stated, a little clearer than the rest of his sentences. "i don't want them to worry about me." chris struggled to get the word worry out of his system, making me crack a slight smile.

"fine," i stated as i fixed myself, "stay put. i'll be there soon."

i hung up the phone and made my way back to the dining room, where everyone collectively turned to me.

"everything alright?" nick asked, and i quickly nodded.

"everything's good, i do have to go, though. i'm so sorry you guys. i'll make it up to you?" i smiled. "i just, um.. have to run."

they all exchanged looks before nodding and bidding me farewell, nick walking me out.

i sat in my car and typed the address into my phone, rubbing my forehead.

i didn't enjoy parties. they were loud, sweaty, gross and full of annoying ass kids. usually.

and as i pulled up, it was just that. a typical high school party scene - loud music, teenagers spilling out onto the lawn, and the faint smell of alcohol and weed in the air. i found chris on the footsteps, his head buried in his hands. i quickly made my way towards him after parking and kneeled down in front of him.

"come on, let's get you home." i said, helping him to his feet.

chris leaned on my heavily as we made our way to my car. i buckled him in and got into the driver's sear, the tension between us palpable in the confined space. as i drove, chris mumbled some incoherent words, his head lolling against the window.

"y/n," he suddenly said, his voice clearer but thick with emotion. "i'm sorry."

i glanced at him, eyebrows raised. "for what?"

"for everything," he continued, his eyes half-closed. "for being an ass. for ignoring you. for... for all of it."

i took a deep breath as i felt a mixture of sadness and anger bubbling within me. i gripped the steering wheel tighter, unsure of how to respond. "you're drunk, chris. you don't know what you're saying."

"no," chris insisted, reaching out and touching my arm. "i do, i've been a jerk. i miss you. i miss us."

i pulled into my own driveway, knowing chris wouldn't want to see his family like this. i would just take his phone and send them a text saying he was with a friend tonight or something.

i turned off the engine and took a deep breath. "let's get you inside."

chris stumbled out of the car, leaning on me for support the whole way to the door. i fished for my keys and unlocked the door, quickly guiding him to my living room couch.

as i laid a blanket over him, he grabbed my hand as his eyes locked with mine.

"i still care about you, y/n. i always have."

my heart pounded, but i forced a laugh, trying to deflect the intensity of the moment. "sleep it off, chris. we'll talk in the morning, okay?"

i brushed a few loose strands from his forehead and stood up, turning off the light and going to my room. my mind raced with conflicting emotions.

part of me wanted to believe his drunken confession, but another part of me was still so angry. still hurt by the way he had treated me. as i laid in bed and stared at my ceiling, i couldn't shake the feeling that things between us were far from over. and that this was just the beginning of a much more complicated story.

the sizzling of the bacon on the oven was comforting, in a way. i had an airpod in, playing some softer, but upbeat music to get me up and going for the long, long day ahead.

i turned my head upon hearing some shuffling in the kitchen, meeting eyes with chris. "morning," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"morning," i replied, placing a plate of food with bacon, eggs and sausage onto the counter in front of him. "eat up. you'll feel better."

he sat down and started eating, occasionally glancing at me as i cleaned up the kitchen. after a few minutes of awkward silence, he looked at me. "look, about last night.."

i crossed my arms and leaned against the counter. "what about it?"

chris looked down at his plate, poking at his eggs. "i meant what i said, you know. but i was drunk, and.. and maybe it didn't come out right-"

"maybe?" i questioned, my voice sharp. "you've been treating me like i don't exist for months, chris. one drunken apology doesn't fix that."

he winced at my words, but nodded. "i know, i've been an idiot. i got caught up in... everything. the team, the popularity. but that's no excuse."

"no, it's not." i stated, my anger beginning to bubble to the surface. "you think you can just waltz back into my life with a half-assed apology and everything will be fine? it doesn't work that way." i spat.

chris stood up, stepping closer. "i'm not asking for everything to be fine overnight. i'm asking for a chance to make things right."

i shook my hear, my eyes flashing with frustration. "do you even realize how much you hurt me? how it felt to be ignored, to be treated like i was nothing?"

"i do now," he said quietly. "and i'm sorry. truly. i want to make it up to you, if you'd let me."

i looked up at him, searching his eyes for any sign of insincerity. he seemed genuine, his usual bravado stripped away, leaving only the boy she used to know.

"i don't know if i can trust you," i admitted, my voice softer now.

chris reached out and took my hand in his. "i get that. and i will do whatever it takes to earn your trust back."

he pulled me into a tight hug, where i gently hugged his waist and took in his scent.

i missed this.

"just one date. give me a chance?" chris mumbled, the smile audible in his tone.

i hesitated, my mind racing. part of me wanted to say no, to protect myself from his bullshit. but another part of me remembered all of the good times.

"one date," i finally stated, my voice firm. "but this doesn't mean i'm just forgiving you, chris. you have a lot to prove."

he nodded quickly, his lips curving into a smile. "i promise i won't let you down."

i pulled away from his embrace and smiled at him before turning to the sink and doing the dishes. "you better now."

as i did the dishes, i felt a glimmer of hope mixed with lingering doubt. chris had a long way to go to earn the trust i had for him back, but for the first time in months, she felt like maybe, just maybe, things could change.

[yjw1a1]

too early too late | psh

PAIRING. Park Sunghoon x female reader. WORD COUNT. 808 words GENRE. When two people were perfect for each other, but the timing wasn't right. She fell first, but he fell harder. angst w/ a bit of Jungwon fluff :) DISCLAIMER. I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING EXCEPT FOR THE WORK I WROTE, SO PLAGIARISM IS NOT ALLOWED HERE. all the credits to the owners of the photos. Please be kind because this is my first work I've posted here. WARNINGS. angst, sunghoon doesn't get the girl.

DATE RELEASED . 02-11-2024

THE AROMA OF FRESHLY BREWED COFFEE, infused with hints of cinnamon and nutmeg, wafted through the cozy late-fall air. The soft glow of warm, amber lights glowed softly through the window of the cafe as leaves tumbled down the trees.  

“One caramel macchiato,” the barista called out. Two hands reached for the drink at once only for them to clash. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled, retracting your hand, but once you saw who’s hand bumped yours, you felt a wave of nostalgia rush through you. Years had passed since you last seen him, yet you knew no matter the length of time or the distance apart, you would always recognize him. How could you not, when his face graces every magazine cover, dominates headlines on the news, and consistently shatters records while setting new standards in the world of marketing and business?

His gaze held a hint of surprise as he met your eyes. Your hair had grown longer since the last time he saw you, and you had grown into your features, only making you more beautiful from the last time he had seen you. 

"You can take it, Y/N," he murmured softly, urging you to accept the drink. The barista raised a eyebrow. "We have another caramel macchiato on it’s way," the barista informed. 

You accepted the cup from the barista and placed it in front of Sunghoon. "I'll wait," you replied calmly. Sunghoon chuckled softly. 

"After all this time, you're still the same," he remarked with a small smile, settling into the seat beside you. "Always assertive, never leaving the other person with a choice," he observed as you toyed with your fingers, a faint smile playing on your lips.

“Some things just never change,” you admitted. The barista handed you the newly brewed caramel macchiato. You quickly thanked them and turned your attention back to Sunghoon. 

“I see you’re back in Korea. Are you visiting? It’s been a while since you’ve left,”

"I'm just here to check a few things at headquarters with my father," Sunghoon remarked, taking a sip of his drink as you nodded. "But it'll be a brief visit."

Sunghoon had left almost exactly five years ago, leaving oversee to run the international branch of his father's company. But how did you come to know Park Sunghoon? He was two years your senior, and your brother's closest friend. Their friendship had blossomed effortlessly when Sunghoon arrived at the school. From the moment your eyes met his, you were enamored. He was everything to you. He was your youth. Your childhood. Your first love. It was during those early high school days that you fell deeply for him, your heart captivated at first sight. 

However, it seemed Sunghoon remained oblivious to the depths of your affection, or perhaps he simply hadn't realized his own feelings for you until it was too late, until you were no longer within his reach.

"Hi, love," a voice suddenly broke the silence. "Sorry I'm late. Boss kept me tied up," He apologized sheepishly. You let out a soft giggle. 

"Jungwon," your eyes sparkled glimmered with happiness, as Jungwon tenderly kissed your temple. For a fleeting moment, a hint of longing flashed in Sunghoon's eyes. “Here’s your caramel macchiato,” you smiled up at him. 

"Thank you, love," Jungwon beamed, as Sunghoon's gaze followed as you intertwined your fingers, his heart cracking at the sight of the ring adorning your finger. 

"Hyung," Jungwon grinned as he enveloped Sunghoon in a warm hug. "It's been too long." Sunghoon could only muster a smile and nod in response. Jungwon redirected his attention to you, his eyes brimming with love and adoration, causing a pang of discomfort in Sunghoon's stomach. "You ready to go, love?" he asked, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you nodded in affirmation.

"It was nice bumping into you again," you smiled gently. "I’ll have to brag to Jaeyun that I got to see you before he did," you teased lightly, your eyes brightened as you reached for his hand cheerfully. "Next time, let us know you’re back. Jungwon and I would love to treat you to dinner," you added, extending the invitation with warmth. Sunghoon managed to force a small smile, but as he watched you and Jungwon walk away, a heaviness settled in his chest, and his smile fell.

Sunghoon whispered softly to himself, as a bittersweet smile touched his lips. "As long as you’re happy, then that’s all that matters,” he sighed looking down at his caramel macchiato. 

For you, you believed that falling for Sunghoon made you a better woman at the end, believing he wasn't the right man for you, but the bitter unspoken truth was, your story with Sunghoon was unfortunate and mistimed— you had fallen for him too early, and he had realized his love for you too late.

NOTE: again this is my first work ever hereee so please don't hate! I'm still tryna figure out how to use tumblr, and I'm not sure when I'll have another update or story coming out because this week I have three exams (love midterms-not really-) and even though I should've been studying I wrote this LOL! But i hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading!!

© yjw1a1

[onelocket]

eyes on the board, milaya Fyodor D. x reader

prompting guide -- Suddenly, your vision comes to reality when you could only see him smiling at you across the classroom. “Focus.” He words out.

involves -- high school au, not 100% proofread

Afternoon classes were already done and dusted. Your sleepy eyes nagged you the whole last three periods of subjects as you forced yourself to keep it rolling, determined to finish today to just jump right to bed and shove your tired body in a warm blanket.

The mere thought of hugging a soft mattress as it releases said exhaustion away sounded and even felt comforting right now.

Ah, how your mind would love to doze off in a state of dopiness — away from responsibilities, away from life…

So why were you here instead?

“... Jeez..” You sigh, noise hardly distant from an escaping breath. As you tap your fingernails onto your wooden desk, your eyes deny to blink — afraid they'd fall defeat into a slumber in front of class.

Turns out, your little daydream just now was just a daydream.

In reality you still had this last class to sort out — which was mordantly the one you had the least interest in.

But at the same time, how could you skip class? This was the last above all your previous ones today; plus, you weren't going to be sure when your teacher would suddenly say this random lesson will be part of the upcoming exams, so you needed to attend. Even if you were painfully lacking the needed sleep.

“(Name),” The classmate next to your seat suddenly murmured, head turned to you with an on edge smile as if your solemnness affected her greater than it would to you. “If you’re planning to sleep, go ditch class by faking to use the bathroom or something…” she said, clearly irritated.

You let out an inaudible grunt at the displeasing behavior, placing both of your arms on your empty desk. Normally would you have your notebook out, but you were too tired to even write a word in such sheets.

“How does it bother you?” You whisper back, almost equally to even more pissed.

“Because we’re next to each other.” She clicks her tongue to, tapping her pen rather aggressively; yet effortlessly also being able to keep its quiet to avoid the teachers head turning.

And you swore even a simple yawn could get the teacher pointing at the said student. Not even a pen could counter it?

“And?” You nearly snarled, arms crossing each other even pressed against the desk. “It’ll rag attention!” She exclaimed loudly with her leaning to you — which ultimately grabs the class.

“Excuse me?” The teacher was quick to press on, head already turned to the class. “What will ‘rag’ attention, exactly?” They add with a rather rough tone before turning their whole body to the front, making the atmosphere drop.

Not that this teacher is rude, they were just… uncomfortable to see when mad.

“Ah- teacher..” Your classmate gasped out, her grip on the pen tightening as it deemed noticeable in your view.

But before you just sit there dumbfoundedly and admit what you knew she'd blurt to the whole class, you pick up a plan.

Leaning down a little to your desks shelf, you made sure to be slow with your moments as you grab a small purple notebook. Such notebook wasn't for this class — rather one where you draw mindless, silly doodles and write pent up rants to in school. But that won't be a problem.

If she was going to blame you, might as well pack up a lie to reduce twice a scolding in your ears.

With the corner of your eye did you notice your classmate progressively get provoked, practically growling at this point as you blench at the thought. She exclaims as she slaps her hand on the desk, “Teacher, this person beside me was about to fall asleep! In your own class.”

And while it did get you stares, you force your head to stay up and confident as you extend your fingers to let the other page of your notebook fall down, making sure it was on the ‘right’ page. “I have no idea what she’s talking about.”

It was filled with words you were so sure belonged to another topic and another subject, but nobody would know that.

“You— you were literally about to rest your head on your arms.” She says, in disbelief.

And you fight back with a tilt of your head, “I was grabbing this notebook, didn’t you see?”

“…You two, stop fighting.” Your teacher dismissed, a tired sigh trying to ease the stress; although failing as they raise their voice for all to hear, “Did any of you two see (Name) and are able to confirm their claim?” finishing before nodding their head at your classmate. “Or maybe hers.”

Silence suddenly dulled to reek the tension in your classroom. Your other hidden fist on your lap clenches itself as you hold back an annoyed noise, praying your gaze isn’t caught a glare. Even though it deliberately is one.

You didn’t exactly think anyone would vouch for you, nor would you think anyone would back up her claim. So you just sat there irritated, as so did she, her grip on her own pen in at threaten to snap it in half.

Besides, who would even want to stare at you in such hour? This was the last class of today, and everyone must be dying to call it quits and do their own thing just as you want to, right? Neither did you see yourself as one worthy to be the center of attention.

As your mind runs it’s words around with your expression painfully trying to be blank, a student who was sat on the first few rows of the class was looking intently at you.

More than the rest ever cared to.

Strands of his black hair would fall on his face as he makes a subtle tilt, eyes obscure.

They looked as tired as yours, but with how he was such a smart prodigy it’d be unlikely that his look of debility was out of need to sleep as well.

The more he stared at you in such way, the more did students pick up on it. A few swiftly nudged their friends to realize the situation, and without you even knowing, the tension grew heavier.

“Is nobody going to speak?” The teacher slits through the silence like a knife, “Then, with the lack of evidence in you twos contrasting stories- I’ll take the both of you to the office to properly sort this out.” already demanding a situation you loathed to deal with right now — that visible in your eyes the second you hear those words.

But before you nor your classmate could talk to bicker,

“I saw, teacher. (Name) was simply unhurried with their actions.” a heavy Russian accent counters through.

You find your hand slipping away from its contact on your notebook as you mouth out a gasp, eyes blinking their way to look back up at the male you hear speaking.

Though, your shock would fall into one out of relief once seeing who it was.

“Oh. Is that so…” Your teacher formed, seemingly not taken in yet by the affirm. “Mhm.” Your boyfriend — Fyodor, nods to, head turning to your teacher. “I felt something on my back, so I turned my head around to also brush my hair out of the way in case such so was the source of the itchy feeling.”

…What,

“I saw (Name) as I turned, and they were simply grabbing their notebook as she seemed to be talking to them. (Name) wasn't replying to them at all.”

What is he even saying…?

And how did it look so easy? For him to say all those things so suddenly? It's like he planned them out.

The words he explained was clearly, to you, a blatant lie. Yet you found your heart instead captivated at his effort. His voice was so soft and soothing, that accent pretty much grasping your wariness to a trash bin.

Not only did it loop you around — so did it do the same to your other classmates. Though… perhaps in a different way.

You could practically feel the weight of such uncomfortable tension swim back to a lower ground, yet rather than sparkling eyes you could only see looks out of one; or rather many, intimidated.

His voice perhaps did sound a little rougher, however you were unable to pick up on it right away since how long have you wanted to hear his voice since this period started.

But it shouldn’t really be that contrasting to hear him like that. Or perhaps it the unique accent that still threw them off-guard... it's been so long since Dostoevsky got his scholarship to your school, yet its as if their fright wouldn't agree to it.

You almost found yourself special for being the only one so accepting of him without any lie of emotion hidden within.

“Very well..” The teacher says, struggling to hide its reluctance before they cleared their throat; “I’ll still need to talk to you about this manner,” staring at your classmate before turning back to you — “but (Name), there’s no need to join the conversation unless there is something you’d like to be shared. In such case however, it’d be nice to say it now.”

“What the.. why just me?” Your classmate pressed, frustration clear in her face yet stayed sat on her desk. “Dostoevsky here hinted that you initiated the conversation.” The teacher replied, voice stern at her.

“… Please, teacher. There’s little to no reason to be so formal at your student. You call your other students by their first name, aren’t I right?” Fyodor spoke again, tilting his head a little to the teacher.

You see it visibly take the older person off-guard, as if Fyodor was some villain to be locked up to. Was it the voice.. no, you shouldn’t always think about his voice- well, as much as you personally liked hearing it. Was your teacher also still so intimidated?

But still… why react so violently? You couldn’t help but think, the palm of a hand resting on your chin as you watched the conversation, ignoring your angry classmate.

“Why.. well, sorry Fyodor. I'm just extremely stressed.” They make up with, which was honestly horrible. To who falls for that reeks with naivety — Even you knew your boyfriend would laugh at that reply.

But you also knew he wouldn’t show it, remaining polite to the teacher as he simply nodded it out, leaving the classroom quiet again.

As if you thought things were forming into a better shape, that decision made todays period even worse.

You softly grunt, and albeit you were safe from the scolding, you still technically got one right now. Without Fyodor in class, worser things would’ve happened. And your mind didn’t want to comprehend it.

Your eyes narrow as your head came back to the blackboard, your teachers continuation of blabber slowly turning muffled in your ears as you stared at your boyfriend. Though your teacher took quite the awkward approach with continuing the lesson, you had to admit.

Setting aside the thought, your head started to drown in your back and forth questions as you pondered on how to thank Fyodor later. Speaking like that and spewing out a lie so quickly must’ve been so difficult to find reason to actually act on.

It being ‘hard’ wouldn’t really match the description — you’ve seen your lover do and speak many things you knew yourself would never lift a finger to, so now only made you wonder why he did it.

Of course, it could just be out of love for you, but to have Fyodor keen onto a simple motivation as that sounded off. To lie in front of the class without even being sure that it’d work? What if another student was watching you and counterattacked his lie with a fact..

Suddenly, your vision comes to reality when you could only see him looking at you across the classroom.

“Focus.” He words out, his purple eyes boring into yours.

But for some reason, you didn’t find it intimidating. They felt… concerned for you.

No- concerned would be an overstatement. It would be.

Yet you can’t push back the thought of him worried for you either.

You smile at him, head tilting a little to your palm. You reply back with your own mouth forming a silent word, “Sorry.” earning a small smile from him before he turns his head to the board, your head jolting to follow it.

You still failed to actually understand a word of what your teacher meant, but to see your loving boyfriend, Fyodor, all so focused and noting down with such effortless charm kept you glued to the front of the class.

To see Fyodor was all there mostly was to it, who you didn’t share a lot of subject periods with. Even if you had the most valid reason to skip this class, you'd stay just to see his back even if what came with it was… oh, right — thousands of words and whatnot in front of the board you had yet to note down.

“…How annoying.” You grumble quietly, placing your arm down as your other hand held onto your pen, tip aimed at the paper. You lied earlier to get away from punishment, so you now had to act like it. You had to have your eyes on the board,

“Milaya.”

Your body jolts at the sudden call, head immediately tilting up to see the man you love to be in front of you. He was smiling softly with his hands on your desk, an expression you'd melt for over and over again.

“…Um, y-yeah Fyodor?” You reply, a sheepish smile on your face. “I’m sorry. I zoned out a little.”

Before you even knew it, classes were over. Perhaps it was the sudden attack of motivation that made time feel quick, but in the end you were glad all's done.

And luckily did you not have to deal with a trip to the office unlike some unlucky girl.. really, what was her problem?

“Are you that tired?” He sighed out, tapping a finger on your desk. “Class is over. You’re not in charge of cleaning today, correct?”

“Yeah.” You reply, your shamefaced smile turning into a calmer one now.

Actually, since you did think about it, perhaps now would be a good time to thank him. Not like it’d be appropriate to say thank you tomorrow when he clearly helped you out today.

“Actually, Fedya..” So you whisper, hoping nobody heard your nickname for him in wishes not to embarrass him. “May we walk home together today?” You engage to, hoping that time to properly thank him.

“Of course, (Name).” He replied, a finger brushing your hair off your face with that same smile. “Grab your stuff now, we can’t stay in this classroom forever while they clean.”

“Oh- right!” You heaved out, head immediately down to look at your notebook. Quickly did you do as told, practically sliding your bag to your shoulder as you stood up, Fyodor beside you silently.

You didn’t have time to put your notebook inside, so you just held onto it as you two exited the room. He didn’t seem to mind either — although you two end up sharing a hand in hand as you walked the corridors, not that secretive of the relationship, however not so loud about it either.

Simple public display of affections like these in school warmed your heart, and you hoped his did too.

As you two walk with a comforting silence shared, a loud, masculine voice rings through the hallway as sounds of shoes clicked closer and closer to you two. And of course, it’d be nobody else than..

“Ah, Nikolai.” Fyodor greeted with a tiny tilt of his head before tilting it back with a smile. “What brings?”

“Mmhm, hi- I need to borrow you for a second.” Nikolai replied rather excitedly as if holding back his impatience, his larger hands immediately flying up to hold one of your boyfriends.

You take the hint and let go of Fyodor’s hand, to which, you see the same hand twitch in reply, but nonetheless find nothing else to take notice of.

“Oh! Right, (Name)!” Nikolai suddenly says with the surprise evident in his voice, as if he didn’t see you. Well, you knew that’s not exactly what he’d think of, but still.. he’s rather, jumpy about something, isn’t he?

“Y-yes Nikolai?” You reply hurriedly, a smile covering your confusion as you press your notebook closer to your chest.

“May I borrow your lovely boyfriend for a sec? Pretty please?” He scoots closer to you as he spoke, beseech and solicit tones apparent in his voice. You let out a fake, helpless sigh, shrugging a little. “Not my choice to make. It’s his.”

“Aw. You know he barely says no to you.” He sighed with a small pout as if defeated. “My chances are less now..” He sulked out whilst you and Fyodor find each other chuckling, Fyodor talking back however. “Please. If it’s so important that it made you run to us, where’s the room to decline?”

“Aha- I knew that'd get you!” Nikolai applauds to with a galvanizing turn of his head to your lover, a smirk crystal-clear of mischief, but you did not dare to question. Besides, you knew this man for his tease and joke, and you presumed Fyodor did too. Well, they are close after all.

“Come, come; it won't take you long~” The taller boy releases his grip on Fyodor's hand, a calm expression on said guy as if he was used to that cheeky look on Nikolai's face with that gesturing motion to follow him. Fyodor gave a nod to Nikolai as he hummed, however turning his head to you.

“Milaya. If it's about what I did earlier, then don't wait for me. There is no need,” Fyodor tells you, leaning in to press a soft kiss on the edge of your lip.

The second his lips met your skin felt like you reading his cute little love letters to you — short, sweet and anticipatingly taunting. Taunting to your poor little heart as it easily flusters from it.

You give your lover a quiet laugh as he leans back, Nikolai staring at you two without a word, just a smile you couldn't read.

You wanted to say something, but would it really be fine to flirt in front of his best friend? Said dude would name you two as cheesy love doves, you knew.

So you simply nod before giving a small wave, Nikolai taking that sign as to grab Fyodor's hand and walk the opposite direction of the hallway. Fyodor turns around as he walked, replying to you with a small smile before he completely allows the well-known school clown to take him away, leaving you stood there.

“...He knows what he's doing.” You finally sigh out with your stiff shoulders relaxing, to which you actually never realized of them being that way. That kiss, albeit sweet, told you a lot, you knew your lover knew this mark.

So rather than leaving as he 'claims' he wanted you to do, you find your heel turning around and almost scurrying somewhere else — where, might that be?

Why, another classroom.

It was still in the same floor, only difference is that this was an old club room which was now empty; given how no new club proposition took this space.

Of course, it was advised by the teachers not to use this room so often. While it was open, it's not a free space for 'you folks'. You still couldn't help but giggle at the remembrance of that one teacher calling you and the students such a term, especially with his accent. Ridiculous, you thought.

But this was also the only room you can go to. Those who were in charge of cleaning must still be doing their task.

You almost lazily sit on the chair which was already set up, desk to accompany it. Somebody must've also broken the rule of not hanging out here, yet that doesn't bother you right now. Putting your bag to the side of the chair, you put down your purple notebook on the wooden desk as you pout, staring at the empty cover.

“Telling me not to wait for you... am I not your partner to have the right?” You ask, pretending as if the notebook was him. Well, the purple hue did match his eyes. And he didn't deserve the light scolding, so you just threw it on some inanimate object.

Sliding your arm down on the desk did your hand swing around on the opposite side, your cheek leans down to press on the crook of your elbow as you yawn quietly, eyes still on the cover.

But the sight of something green catches your eye.

A little brighter because of the afternoon light shining through those open windows, but definitely green nonetheless. And it was none other than the blackboard in front of the classroom — a few walks away from you.

“Mm, what would've happened if I still had the energy to focus earlier?” You mutter to yourself, eyes focused on the dry paint. “I mean.. would I have heard him back up for me? That was still really kind of him.”

Yet the lack of people in the room left you to simply stare. The longer you stared, the more your eyes wanted to tease you too — as if replaying a sight of your teacher nudging nonsense and writing so loudly on the board. But of course, since you weren't focusing half of the lesson, you couldn't remember what was actually written on it.

You probably should head home by now... but you also couldn't shake off the thought of walking home with Fyodor. Of course were there some days you two have to leave alone, but that kiss really got you clingy.

“I knew you'd be here.” Suddenly, a soft, almost gentle voice whispers behind you, as if behind your ear.

You immediately turn your head at this — eyes a little wide before you took realization to who it was. Thankfully, it was just Fyodor.

Your head makes a quick turn, seeing his bag already beside yours and classroom doors suddenly shut. You didn't even hear noise shuffle around... how did he get here so quietly? Alas, he ends up grabbing a seat to sit in front of you as you just watch, lifting your head up.

“And how would you know? You probably checked every classroom in this floor.” You joke out, smiling at your lover as he returns it. “If that's how you'd like to put it.” He replied, leaning in. “Really, did you want to walk home with me that eagerly?”

“Well, you know I always do.” You say as you push your seat away, earning you enough space to stand up. Before he makes the move you knew he'd do, you slide your notebook swiftly on the shelf under the desk, not wanting him to see the little doodles of his back that you drew to find some solace in these sleepy classes.

“I apologize then, milaya.” Fyodor whispers, his eyes following your move as you find yourself sitting on the desk, in front of him. A chuckle leaves his lips as he tilts his head, however not muttering a word as you shift around, making sure your legs didn't hit him.

“Yeah, do apologize.” You sigh out, although intent lighthearted and playful as you lean in, pressing your fingers on his silky black hair. You take his loving gaze as consent as you play with his hair, both of you exchanging a warm smile.

“But do enlighten me, (Name). Just what was on your notebook?”

“Oh. I didn't think you'd ask...” A peachy paint on your cheeks as your eyebrows furrow.

You weren't mad of course, and to be fair — if the positions would switch, you'd ask the same thing. Fyodor hums, “That notebook must be important, right? If you do not wish to tell, that is fine as well.”

“Ah, not exactly.” You pucker your lips to for a fleeting moment, keeping your affectionate stare. You twirl a strand of his hair, tilting your head. “It's just a little embarrassing. I wouldn't call it some sort of sketching notebook, but it's just mostly filled with drawings of your back.”

“Why my back, milaya?”

“Because that's all I see in class.” You pout out.

“...Adorable.” He replied with a sweeter smile, as if holding back a giggle. “Come here,” Fyodor coos, his hands meeting your hips to slowly, almost a little too slowly guide you to fall down on the desk to sit on his lap.

You comply, however a little startled at first. You never took him to be the kind to want public displays of affection.. neither did you ask about it though, so maybe you were wrong?

“If you be good next time and focus in class, I'll let you borrow me from my studying to be your reference as much as you'd like.” Fyodor whispers with his one hand meeting your cheek, caressing it lightly.

“Really?” You ask a bit excitedly, hands pressed on his shoulders. He had to admit to himself, the sight was really adorable. Some of your hair fell on your face, and you held onto him like you two weren't inside a classroom. “I said only if you're good.” He tuts.

“You tease.” You huff out, cheeks puffing a little to decorate. Fyodor hummed, “You accept every last one of it though, don't you?” resulting in you rolling your eyes and lean in to press a kiss on his lips.

The seconds feel like minutes as your lips met, Fyodor moving his hands to carefully wrap on your waist as the afternoon sky radiates on each of yours skin, eyes shut and simply indulging in the moment.

Yet to surprise, it is you who pulls away first.

You take this moment to stay where you're positioned at and look down at his face, which had a very soft, subtle light of red. You found it endearing. Perhaps your actions also moved his heart more than you'd assume.

You wanted to say something, but before you could even voice out a word from your open lips — he surprises you with a lean in, peppering kisses all over your cheeks. It made you dumbfounded for a good moment, the blush on your face never failing to escape now as you press your own hand on his cheek, softly giggling like his lips tickle.

“Hey... what are you doing, Fedya?” You coo, soft exhales leaving you at the feeling of amenity from his kisses. Barely does he initiate it, which led you to easily melt whenever he does. You could feel his lips meet a smile as he kept kissing your soft skin, “I wasn't done kissing you yet.” to which only caught you to melt even more.

“You really don't have to try being this cute, don't you...” You mutter out before silently sitting there on his lap, closing your eyes while you drink in his love.

Eventually did you wrap your hands around his neck, allowing him more room for you to kiss as a sight suddenly clicks to you.

The corner of your eye would catch the girl who tried to wreck chaos to you earlier, seemingly walking after a trip to the office. You couldn't catch her expression, but you just knew she was pissed.

Minutes had already passed since the allotted school dismissal anyway. Not many students were around anymore. She could've left school early if she just didn't bother with your own issue.

You didn't want to stop his kisses, but seeing her made you had to with a gentle pat. He takes the note and stops, however still holding you.

“What's wrong?” Fyodor asks, earning a turn of your head. “Oh... just saw 'her'. She still really annoys me.” You grunt out quietly like an angry kid, looking down as he finds it cute with a laugh.

At least, you would've thought so.

“Did she irritate you that much? My, sweet milaya — I say you should give her less weight she might feel on her shoulders.” Fyodor suddenly remarks, making you feel a little puzzled. Why was your own boyfriend on her side?

Your eyebrows furrow, “Hey, if you thought your guessing lie was wrong, you were right you know? She talked to me first.” backing up your situation with a frown. Your head moves to look at him as he smiled, one hand petting your soft hair. “It wasn't a guess, milaya. I knew she likely talked to you first.”

“Huh.. how come?” You question, “Do you know her?” a bit of jealousy seeping in your head.

The look you briefly had on was cute. It made him even more satisfied.

“No. The only thing I know about her is that I set up a few things throughout her day today, just to make her all irritated and get her angry at the smallest of things. An example answered my bet in luck by you feeling sleepy this afternoon.”

...Huh??

“..Wait- Fedya, what?” You mutter through a confused expression, “You... why did you do all of that?”

“Mm, don't worry. They were all harmless, and she's physically untouched by such schemes.” Fyodor explains further as if you asked him to, tilting his own head a little. “And I did that... because I wanted your embrace, milaya.”

Your embrace? But he's already getting it right now.

“Am I not giving you such so?” You end up asking, fingers tapping on his shoulder. “And besides, isn't us holding hands already an embrace? As you take me home?”

“My. I foresaw a lot of things, but not your endless questions.” He sighed out, one hand grabbing onto one of your own to press a gentle, almost teasing kiss that led your shoulders to shiver. “I'll be honest with you, do you think we truly get enough time for ourselves when we walk home?”

“When we...” You trail out, your own head following to find an answer to his question.

While it is true you two hold hands throughout the walk, and how you'd give him puppy-like kisses as he leaves you to your doorstep like the gentleman he is — Fyodor is kind of right. He doesn't always get to hang out at your home due to his studying, and you both barely show this much affection in school; now being an only exception.

Wait... now being an only exception. So did that mean he planned all of he said just to get you cradling yourself on him?

“...Are you kidding me?” You end up sighing with an amused smile, Fyodor seemingly glad as he also had one smile of a similar nature. You shake your head, squeezing his hand before letting go of it. “All of that, just for us to end up like this?”

“You'll embarrass me if I say so.” He cooed like a sad boy, you laughing as pink switched your peach. “You're smart, Fyodor, but this is proof that too much smarts can be a little too much.”

The two of you were met in a brief silence as you simply stare at him, your intertwined hands staying as so.

You could stay in this moment forever.

“Y'know.. you don't have to plan around if you just want my embrace.” You start whispering, scooting closer to his lap so both of your chests touched. “I know we can't always show this much affection in school, but you involved a random classmate.” Rather than an explanation did your words sound like a scolding, as if Fyodor didn't know that.

He hummed, “Wasn't my only idea, milaya. Nikolai had a part in planning this too,” smirking a little but kept his expression hidden by guiding your head down to his shoulder, allowing him to press his lips on the side of your head.

You comply to his touch, securing your arms better so you were now leaning on your.. new pillow. You couldn't see his face this way, but it was fine.

“And I bet him calling you earlier was a plan to make me feel touch-starved.” You mumble.

“But doesn't this repay it, (Name)? Or is it lacking for you?” Fyodor teased, his voice making sure that you knew. “Oh, whatever. Just ask next time when you want my embrace.”

Silence met your words at first, the soft wind adding more comfort to the secret little situation you two got going on right now.

Fyodor knew you two should really get going by now, but with a simple glance by the school gate with the help of the window beside you two, as long as the guard was still on his phone, perhaps Fyodor can keep indulging himself in your warm touch that he'd been needy for too long.

A soft chuckle amuses itself as he simply replied, “Okay.” leaving the afternoon colors do all the talk for now as he softly squeezes your body, placing another kiss on your hair.

And just like that, you really couldn't get your focus to have your eyes on the board now.

⚘

[groundzerosgirlfriend]

Snake Charmer

Sharp and slender, so much so they give of the illusion of eyeliner to most people. 

You however know that accusations of him wearing makeup are untrue; that he was simply born with such hypnotizing features.

Grey irises that hold an undecipherable vision.

Specifically, they are a charcoal grey, yet no one seems to notice besides you, for he often avoids eye contact and keeps his head bowed low towards the floor a neutral expression lingering upon his face.

Subtle brown eyeshadow, that you have the pleasure in watching him apply to his eyelids in the early mornings at dawn if you arose from a peaceful night's slumber early enough. 

Black, silky and smooth hair that reaches past his waist in length, is tied in a low ponytail that he usually allows you the honor of doing each morning as he sits silently waiting for you to proclaim that you have finished. 

Pulling a few strands free from the left side of his head, you both it in silence embellishing his hair in small gold clips and tight braids. You can’t help it, staring at him so love sickly as he braids more and more hair, until he realizes that he can no longer feel the warmth from your hands on his scalp or the gentle tugs from your fingers on his hair.

“Is something wrong.” He murmurs, the rasp still evident in his voice from being forced to rise so early to prepare his young master’s breakfast, finishing the braid, he was previously working on and allowing it to fall in place with the others.

You don't answer right away, instead you only lean over and kiss him on his brown lips holding the tender moment between the two of you for a moment. Your hesitant to pull away, you wish you could stay attached to his lips forever never needing a breath of fresh air again, but you know this isn't the truth, so you disconnect the spark of love and sit in your chair properly once again.

“Well, good morning to you. Any special reason for such declarations.” A devious smile is on his lips after quickly swiping his tongue across his bottom lip. You shake your head no with a tiny smile on your face.

“No, I just love you so much. You’re perfect.” The compliments slip out easily stroking his ego just a bit more than he know he should allow himself. Yet, he can’t help himself: as when there from you he seemingly melts into a puddle on the spot.

“I disagree, my jewel it is you who are the true diamond.” You tilt your head, sighing in domestic bliss taking a strand of his hair around your pointer finger before letting it go admiring the makeshift curls. 

“How about we both be each other's jewel?” You attempt to reason with him, your voice a light whisper as you lean your head on his shoulder allowing your eyes to close from drowsiness. 

He only gives a soft smile and kisses your forehead deciding that just this once he can sleep in and that Kalim can survive an hour or two without him hovering behind him and getting himself in too much trouble. 

“I suppose I can agree to that.” He effortlessly picks you up, your chests facing towards each other, heartbeats in sync as you automatically wrap your legs around his waist as he leads you both back to his bed even if it's just for a few more hours.

Because at the end of the day servant or not... he would always be the king of your heart.

[6okuto]

why the heck isn't sugawara real i just know he gives the best hugs

yeah . cw for implied depressive episode at the end ("when you're having a hard time..") & small eating mention

there's the excited hugs where you're both cheering and jumping up and down, spinning in place. maybe you've both won something, or you've just accomplished a goal you set because all your wins are his to celebrate too.

there's the hugs when you haven't seen each other in a long time where his face lights up at the sight of you jogging closer. he squeezes his eyes shut as he laughs and wraps himself around you, fingers wrinkling the back of your shirt from how tight he's holding on. he says some silly joke before a sincere "i missed you."

there's the hugs on stay-in date nights in front of the couch, where he pulls you in before falling back with an "oof!" you hit his arm and roll your eyes every time, but the smile on your face motivates him to do it again the next week anyway

there's also the "cheer up!" hugs when you're feeling stressed or overthinking, but it isn't too serious. whether he's offering or you ask, koushi opens his arms with a smile—maybe pats his chest twice, calling you to bury your head against him. the both of you sway from side to side as he hums or says sweet words of encouragement.

and there's the hugs when you're having a hard time. he can tell you're overworking and tired, or you've been quieter than usual, declining plans and isolating yourself, eating quicker meals instead of ones that'd be filling.

he's quieter when he comes to check on you. something always tightens in his chest when he sees you struggling—he wishes he could just make it all better, but he knows he can't. so he just does his best, gives you as much of his love and himself as he can to fill the parts chipped away.

"you okay?" koushi's voice is quiet but stable, different from your wavering "yeah," muffled behind the blanket you've curled yourself into instead of him.

but he's still koushi, he still huffs and pokes you with a frown as if you've just stolen his chips and hidden them behind your back. "you know you're a really bad liar."

you wonder how he does it—effortlessly balance teasing words with gentle voice and eyes.

when you peek your head out to look at him, he exchanges the frown for a smile. his voice runs over you like a river smoothing jagged stones, "you don't have to tell me everything, but i'd rather you at least tell me you're sad instead of hold it in."

the blanket moves when you do. "...i'm sad."

"...okay." the hand that poked you comes to rest against your cheek. "can i come in?"

and it's a wordless shift as he tucks himself in bed beside you, quiet as he pulls you into his chest and starts tracing stars and "i love you" against your back.

but at least he's here now, at least you've let him in. that's all you both need, you think, because at least as he hugs you, you can focus on his breathing and warmth instead of everything else.

[copiousloverofcopia]

can i 👉👈 request some terzo and a sister who's just super eepy?

❤️‍🔥 Hey there ghestie! ❤️‍🔥

Thank you so much for this ask, it was a really nice change of pace to write, and it means a lot that you asked me.

This is also a very special fic as it is my 100th fic on AO3! That means I will be chosing another giveaway winner soon to add to my list!!!

It's going to be a busy September!!! Hope you all enjoy some fluff with Terzo!

Commissions are OPEN, please see pinned post for Carrd info!

Held

You have pushed yourself too hard dear sorella, and Terzo is here to remind you that you deserve your rest.

Also available HERE on AO3!

Read below the cut!

"Sorella?" Terzo asked, his voice hitting that sweet inflection at the end. You felt his hand rest on your shoulder, your eyes fluttering open—still heavy and weak. Shifting around on the sofa and pulling your head up to face him. Quickly finding yourself struggling to stay awake long enough to respond. 

"Uh huh." you yawned, wiping the spit strung from your lip to chin, like a spider’s web. A testament to the amount of time you’d surrendered to slumber. Your blurred vision, just barely able to make out your Papa's painted smile. 

"This is the third time I've caught your head dipping down... Are you sure you just don't want me to take you to bed?" he asked, the words sending your eyes open once again, only this time wider with the possible proposition. 

"Oh? I...ah..." you replied, stumbling to find the words as a tinge of red hit your cheeks. Terzo chuckled as he came to stand beside you, enjoying the way he could always make you blush. 

"Ha…not like that amore—well maybe later, but for now you clearly need your rest.” he assured you. Trying to pull you up from where you sat, only to be met with your protests.  

“No…no…I’m almost done.” you told him, rubbing your eyes and trying to shake off the exhaustion. Hoping it might be enough that you could continue to work.

“Have it your way.” Terzo replied as he threw his hands up in the air, frustrated at your insistence. He returned to his own desk, knowing that there was no point in arguing with how stubborn he knew you to be.

You had been at it all day, deciding once you’d gotten on a roll to try working through the night. Desperate to get this last chapter written before leaving the office. Convinced that the more professional scenery would help you focus. The soft blanket Terzo offered you when you and the hum of Jezebel’s purr, however, had made it almost impossible to stay awake.

You had been pushing yourself–and you knew it. Worried you’d run out of time and inspiration. After all, people were counting on you. Waiting for you to quench their thirst—the kind for which only a good story would suffice. 

You were famous amongst the siblings for your literary skills. All of them, brothers and sisters alike, flocking to you so that they might get a taste of the next chapter of your stories. Falling in love with the worlds you created. A place for them to escape into when the real one became too much to bear.  

It was because of this that you pushed—hard and relentless. Sacrificing your own needs to be at the service of others. Hours into your task, Terzo had arrived back into the office. Bringing with him a cup of Primo’s tea to help you focus and the supportive pleasure of his company.  

You worked and worked into the night, pushing yourself more with each passing minute. And while you always felt you could do more—give more, it was clear to Terzo that your wall had been hit. Watching you once again from his desk as the fading sounds of typing and the bobbing of your head gave you away. 

“That’s it.” you heard and before you knew it, you had been scooped up from the sofa. Cradled in your Papa’s arms as he effortlessly toted you from the office and into the hall. “You have done enough today sorella. It’s time you get some rest. Papa’s orders.” he hummed, pressing his lips against your weary head. You didn’t bother to open your eyes, instead focusing on the feel of warmth radiating from his chest, comforting as he held you. 

“Thank you.” you sighed. Held by your Papa, who knew you better than yourself. Slowly giving yourself over to the dreaming as you listened to the sounds of his footfalls, and the jingle of Jezebel’s collar, on your way to the Papal suites. 

[mumpkins-art]

MobMina Summary + Headcanons

I decided to just post everything as-is, so these will just show some of the headcanons that I have so far. Feel free to ask any questions and I'll add them to my thread on BlueSky :)

SUMMARY

Let’s just assume that the settings are meshed together.

They didn’t meet in their childhood, or through any schools. Shigeo is from Seasoning City (let's say Saitama prefecture because that’s where the author’s home is), and Mina grew up in Chiba, moving to Musutafu (Shizuoka prefecture) for UA. No less than about two hours distance.

Shigeo, while probably admiring the idea of heroism in a fantasy sense, probably wouldn’t take it as a serious consideration. It’s a lot of work helping others with his powers, and he doesn’t want to rely solely on his powers to define himself.

I can see him going through a few different kinds of jobs until something clicked. Primarily he will want to teach, helping children how to work and healthily develop their powers.

But he still tends to get pulled into helping with spirit work (because we’re meshing these worlds remember?). He moves to a bigger city for a better position.

Mina, of course, IS a pro hero! And a pretty damn popular one. Her direction doesn’t stray from when she was in high school, and she aims to make the world a better place with kindness and confidence. She becomes the flashy hero that shined and inspires others.

The two would likely meet in the middle during their young adult years with Mina as a successful hero, and Shigeo living around the city she usually patrols. They meet by happenstance – he saves her from a fall against a villain – and she decides to treat him to lunch later.

Things don’t happen right away, and there is a lot of getting to know each other before anything serious. They’re friends for a bit before he finally makes a formal confession. Even though Mina has just the spunk to have done it herself, it meant a lot more for him to express it. Because Shigeo has a hard time doing that.

He’s mysterious to her at first and difficult to read, but he communicates effectively and was an attentive listener. He’s not an overwhelming person, but a quiet presence. A wallflower even. And Mina being herself just wanted to pull a guy like him out from the wall a bit. He’s a gentleman, not really a flirt, and pretty secure of himself. He calms her down.

Shigeo always thought to live modestly, but everything about her is vibrant. Her features, her smile, her eyes, her personality. The way she laughs, her supportive nature, and love for life. Mina is LOUD in every sense, but she invites him to her world effortlessly. He will walk the earth with her, and she will rest herself beside him. (edited)

HEADCANONS

They are obsessed with eachother, but not in a way where it’s obnoxious and all over the place. Shigeo is more reserved about it, and while he doesn’t talk about her a lot, he certainly does think about her all the time. Mina meanwhile has to catch herself from babbling about him.

Mina doesn’t do well with horror (unless it’s aliens), but Shigeo doesn’t even flinch. She finds herself clinging to him in any given spooky instance. Despite this, Mina asks him a LOT of questions about ghosts.

Mina LOVES partying of all sizes. Shigeo went to her with a club once, but knew quickly it just wasn’t for him. Too loud, too many people, and way too chaotic for his liking. Since then, he stays home when she wants to go clubbing with friends. He’ll take care of her when she comes home exhausted, and she just melts.

Her friends like him! Kirishima was excited to offer working out together at his gym sometime. Some of them were surprised at for how different he was from her.

His friends were surprised at how different she was, even skeptical of whether they would last long. Not that she wasn’t a sweet girl, but they really were two different kinds of people! But after a meal together it was easy to see his smile when she talked and easily got along with everyone. She and Tomie could talk FOREVER about aliens.

Shigeo can’t dance. The guy has NO rhythm, but by god will he get up and try when she wants to sway a bit.

Mina doesn’t have a lot of time to play videogames, but they will have dates where they’ll play games together. Minecraft, Fortnite, Mario Kart, and Smash Bros. are their top couple games, but they’ll try new trending games too.

Shigeo can’t handle spicy or slimy foods. Both of these types of foods happen to be Mina’s favorite.. They’ve worked an agreement about this.

I saw someone's headcanon once saying that Shigeo's energy spikes a little when he's flustered, causing his hair to rise like a ghibli moment, and I subscribe to that. Mina thinks it's adorable.

Due to a night terror sleepwalking incident, Shigeo has a large acid scar along his left arm. Even though he forgave her immediately, Mina cried for days.

[simp-ly-writes]

Our Fates

What is Left by the Lakeside pt.6

Pairing: God!Gale Dekarios x Sorcerer!Reader

Summary: The aftermath of the decision is upon the divine and mortals alike- what does the future uphold for them all and how does this story come to an end?

Warnings: 3000~ words, heavy mentions of death, crying, overall angst and a bittersweet ending.

A/N: One last long chapter...

Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

What is Left by the Lakeside Series (pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3) (pt.4) (pt.5) (pt.6) you are here

Gale’s POV

Gale, a god amongst men, stayed kneeled in the space long after you left. Crystal-like tears flowed down his silver cheeks and onto the dirtied floors beneath. The lightning in his veins flickering as he sobbed alone in the room, his cries echoing endlessly into a new void he found himself in. A void where he found fragments of you in front of him; accepting to join his loneliness yet nevertheless his dreams would never bear the fruits of reality. 

There the God sat alone in his sorrows, in his grief for his own choices- for he had learned too late of the fate destined for those overcome by greed and of course, ambition. A mockery he was truly of himself, many of the others gods and goddesses thought as they watched him return to his domain. Laughing behind their hands, mocking his pity with prideful smiles adorned as they gossiped over wine and platters. 

What was more cruel- to watch as everyone you loved matured to eventual trees- unheard falling against the forest floor, or for all those to become leaves- still alive as they breath the same air without the single thought of wanting for you? Because alone the gods sit- and for a thousand years as stars fall and endless cycles of life pass-him-by, Gale would wonder back on all the decisions he had made, and only then would the God of Ambition understand that forever would never outweigh a life well-lived. 

Gale Dekarios watched as you walked back to camp to find yourself at a dinner table as hundreds of candles littered the space. Familiar faces from your travels together welcomed you back brightly as you all dined and danced. He laughed into a cry as you all went for once last swim in the lake. They each hugged you tightly as suns passed upon your greying hair- you always made time to visit- to show you still cared. He watched as Tara grew old, her wings falling with age as she helped you to master control over your wild-magic till her final days. Where she rested beside mother and you wept over both their graves. 

The god watched as Halsin pulled you into a hug and helped you to lock the doors to the estate. His tower was long forgotten as nature began to cover-over what was left of his place. You had moved to the newly uncursed lands, raising the children, giving each and everyone a drop of your fighting spirit as they held a beautiful ceremony in your final days. He watched as they slowly lowered your forever bed into the ground. Your body joins the soils and roots- feeding the world once more with your grace. To take it all back is what the God of Ambition pleaded, yet even the hells laughed in his face- the disgrace he was to his name. Gale stood at the back of the service, underneath a willow tree that effortlessly drifted in the wind as it creaked and groaned like an old house- well lived. 

He closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of your hands against his skin, caressing his cheek to jaw, down to his neck and shoulders as you hugged him in memory. And only then did Gale open his eyes once more to see the children looking up at him, offering the flowers that you onced loved before they ran back inside to continue their day onwards like the rest. Only once night had fallen and everyone had gone to bed, the God of Ambition would find your tombstone down by the lakeside as he kneeled down at the sight of your name etched into the stone. He prayed for you, wishing you a restful place; the savior of worlds, the friend to many, and the once lover to a god who had learned all too late.

Purple fireflies swirled around the site as the man left a singular flower- forever blossoming in his place. It never moved with the wind, changed its colour, nor did it age. It was used as a reminder to those who worshipped ambition- its symbol found in every temple that rises with each new sun. 

--

Reader’s POV

When you return back to camp, a silence has fallen over its inhabitants as no one dares to speak a word. The scene is still playing out in all your minds and hearts. You feel lighter from letting go, yet a leash attaches itself to you- capturing the dreaded, what ifs? 

Shaking your head from the start of insanity. You decide to prepare one last meal before walking everyone back to their homes as you contemplate where your’s is going to be. Lost in the world of thoughts, you do not hear Halsin talking in hushed tones towards you as he heals your hand gently. It appears you had nicked yourself slightly in preparing the dish. 

Sighing out, Halsin takes over and says for you to rest in the meanwhile, always the healer, you think to yourself while returning to your tent. A letter with a fresh seal sits on your bed. You look around for who may have left it yet no clues arise from the space. Opening the paper carefully you smile and notice the paw print signed at the bottom. Mrs. Dekarios has sent you a letter, offering you a permanent space in her home should you return- it appears Withers had already given the word out. 

Tears well up in your eyes once more, the kindness that this woman gives to you will never be forgotten as you hold up a quill and think on what to write back. You had your old family home before these adventures started- yet it does nobody any good to dig up the past that lay there. There was joining one of your companions back in their realms of expertise- Halsin appeared to be the most appealing option, you always loved visiting the druids and children yet would your future there be a viable option? Then of course stood Gales tower, left unkept and awaiting a new manager but the Dekarios home was just the same distance away…

Halsin called out for everyone to eat, you didn't not notice how much time had passed as you stumbled out of your tent and ate with the team before packing for their journey home. Alonzo had left before you all went to bed- promising that your tale and love for Gale would be known to all in the form of truth. You smiled softly in reply, wishing the man a safe travel home- to wherever that was. Watching as his form became lost in the treeline. 

--

A few months had passed, ultimately as you laid underneath the stars alone one night, all your companions back in their domains both above and below as you took more time for yourself. You continuously contemplated where you would take your life, there was no more doom that laid its fate upon you, no celestial creatures haunting you in your sleep, only the silence that you kept and a certain skeleton that stood beside your form, staring off beyond the cliff-face. 

Standing upright and voicing your apologies, he simply threw a delicate wave of his hand in your face before giving you a tight-lipped smile that you knew to be truthful. “Fate spins along as it should- thank you,” Withers spoke before looking past your form. 

“I did what I must for others-” You trail off, the words that you endlessly repeated, that haunted every decision you made. 

“But what of yourself now- hm?” Withers asks with a lightness in his tone that you had only heard when Tara was in conversation. 

“I have yet to discover that, Withers” You note pitifully before walking yourself over to the cliff face, sitting on the ledge as you kick your feet back and forth- contemplating. 

“Hm- but you already have. You have friends, you have family- what more could one want after a lifetime of served adventure?” You hear him say as he drifts over to stand beside you once more. 

“The human heart always wants more of what it can no longer have…” 

“And that is greed in the end,” Withers notes with a certain edge in his tone, conveying utmost sincerity. 

“But what is greed- if not longing?” You question to the immortal figure with a tilt of your head, your human curiosity begging nurtured one more. 

“It does not matter the words used to describe, yet the contexts in which we place them. You choose to live- did you not? I think it is not to be the words you used- yet the contexts you served to live in,” Withers speaks in an even tone as he looks down at your sitting form before extending a hand and transporting you into a scene that you needed most. 

--

Various candles littered a path leading up to where your adventures started all those months ago, you had already celebrated, you thought as confusion etched its way onto your face as various companions hugged your form tightly and whispered their praises. 

“Though one has celebrated their journey coming to an end, there also must be celebration for all those new beginnings that branch from where one rests another.”

“I think you just like partying after being stuck in the tomb for so long- it's alright your secret is safe with me, Withers” You joke back as you provide more hugs and wishes before settling yourself a seat at the table as various plush rugs rest underneath your well-worn boots. 

An echoing chuckle is heard from behind you as you turn to face the skeleton with a large smile, he grasps your shoulder lightly before closing his eyes and replying, “most of all you deserve to find happiness after serving so much of it out to others, may this be your new beginning- my friend.”

You give his hand a light few pats before a dinner is being conjured across the table and various goblets and glasses are being raised once more, Karlach stands with one knee on the table as she tips her cup towards your own, shouting proudly in your face as her figure ignites from within- setting all the candles to shame. “Let us drink to new lives! Happy lives, fulfilling lives, filled with the greatest pleasures the world has to offer-”

“May this night be a happy ending, encasing the old,” Wyll adds while your eyes widen, you didn’t expect the camp to notice that you were gone that night as Shadowheart grabs your hand from across the table and gives you a small smile before adding her own piece, “To our leader!”

And that final statement is echoed from every mouth yet to be filled with bourbon and wine. You raise your own glass, tipping your head back with a cheer. Never have you felt lighter in a moment as music begins to fill your ears. 

Everyone stands once the table is magically cleared, you all laugh and rejoice as you feel Wyll dip you with a wink before twirling you into a stilled Lae’zel who awkwardly shimmies to the beat. You grab her hands in your own as you direct both your movements, and feel as her armour soon begins to fall as she raises a glass towards Astarion who praises your dance moves with a high-pitched compliment before he returns back to conversation with Halsin. 

--

Removing yourself from the festivities to catch your breath, you hear the sounds of wings flapping and the purr of a cat. Smiling to yourself- extra wide you take long strides to meet Taras form, your face showing surprise. 

“Hello, dear. It is great to see you happy and healthy once more” The old tressym greets you calmly, licking her paw while eyeing your slightly intoxicated state with the hint of a smile from behind her whiskers. Extending your hand towards her, she tips her head as you give behind her ears a light scratch before settling yourself upright once more. You notice as her eyes drift off behind you as the echoing of a voice catches your breath and Tara has disappeared out of sight- headed towards Withers. 

Turning around on your heel stuck in the mud, you see not-quite-Gale standing off to the side. He waves a hand in your direction, “A word, please? It's very, very important.” You shake your head, what a tragedy his projection is- yet you still remember all those steps of his failsafe by heart. As you feel your magnetic pull force you in his direction for what appears to be the last time. 

“Well met. I am a projection of Gale of Waterdeep. Alas, on this occasion it appears I have been erased from this plane in both soul and substance, so the usual protocol for re-vivification cannot be followed. I am, however, available for the duration of this spell to assist with the tying of loose ends related to my recent departure from mortality. I have been entrusted with the delivery of a letter to be given to one who cared most for me in life…”

Purple magic shines against your face once more, its glow and allure catching the edges of your mouth in a twinge of a smile before you grasp the letter tightly to your chest. 

“With that, I am afraid my spell is waning. Is there anything else you need from me, before I blink out of existence?”

Yet you were already moving hastily towards your actions, as you carried out a hug- your hands slipping into his projection- trying to grasp onto what was left. The projection hums at you in contemplation, his head tilted and that all-too-familiar cat-like motion. 

“How fortunate I was to know someone like you and to think I believed godhood was worth losing all of this…” His voice echoes in your heart for the final time as his form drifts off into hundreds of purple fireflies drifting off into the night sky. 

Tara has appeared to have joined your side once more as she studies the space where her owner has left her once more. She paws at the letter you had appeared to drop as she sits atop of it, hiding it from your view. “I can almost feel Gale here. Among his friends- in you. Some part of him remains doesn't it? That crackle in the air of wonder, mischief, and of course, a hint of magic.” 

You smile down at Tara, holding your hand out once more before staggering back slightly when she jumps into your arms, holding your tightening in her own version of a hug. You look down to see the letter sat in the mud as you narrow your eyes at the tressym and she simply bats her eyes. 

Picking up the letter and sending it off towards your tent, you send many other letters later towards Morena- promising to visit her. You and Tara both settle back to the party where you ask Halsin if you, and your pets can join him back to the newly un-cursed lands. Halsin smiles down at you wildly, picking you up into a roasting hug as Tara hisses and gets caught in this outward display of friendship-based love before you all get thrown into the lake. 

--

Suns passed as stars clashed and created anew as wrinkles showed that life-well-lived. Familiar faces welcomed you in while others said their final goodbyes. You watched as the cycle continued as the children you kept in your care tugged at your hands, leading you away from their graves, the estate doors and past the WIzards tower. You missed Tara, Morena and Withers had work to do elsewhere. The various rest of your companions each had settled lives for themselves- each retired in places fate spun to be. 

You raised the children well- as was the last promise to yourself. You taught them how to fight and who to pick fights with. You taught them of love, loss, and celebration of it all as Withers, Tara, and Morena reminded you. And even as you were preparing to join your loved ones on an isle far away. You picked to rest viewing the lakeside, where all journeys start and end. 

--

Wither’s POV

The children all looked up at his skeleton-like figure with utmost curiosity as he watched your ceremony with a bittersweet reaction. His hands clasped in front of his robes that drifted with the wind. “Thou should play as others shall rest, do not allow for their absence of being to keep yours- for that would be of no respect to the dead.”

Withers' words drift off with the wind as the Children now tilt their head up in confusion to what he truly means, “There need not be two dead: one of the fallen and one of the falling. To live in the faces of grief that blankets over our minds in loss- is respect to oneself and to the others who have gone.” 

The children all look at one another, taking in this enterals words as he simply waves a hand as they all run back down the hill to join the druids and those-saved. Withers closes his eyes, hearing the divines’ presence from within as he knows without seeing- the children are handing out flowers to him. An act of being. They are to do well- learning so quick, Withers thinks to himself before disappearing back to his tomb, awaiting the next set of adventurers and their undecided fates. 

Fin.

╰┈➤ A/N: and there we have it, curtains closed. I think this series is my favourite thing I have ever written as of the publication of this chapter- and I hope that you all have enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. Quite possibly one day, I may write an alternative ending to this- if you all would like. But for now I think that this is a good place to end the tragic tale that is the God of Ambition- Gale Dekarios, with his lover and friends.

What is Left by the Lakeside Series (pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3) (pt.4) (pt.5) (pt.6) you are here

[truearchangel]

   If he had known that Lucifer was awake, Michael would have left the Palace with magic rather than taking the time to put a blanket around his shoulders. He had just felt bad that his brother was sitting in that uncomfortable position lingering at his bedside. Like a child afraid of nightmares who couldn’t sleep without the company of someone else beside him. Though for a while, that had been how they were, wasn’t it? They shared a room right up until Lucifer’s fall and more often than not they ended up in the same bed, sleeping far more comfortably beside each other rather than apart. And if things had continued like that–Michael would have been fine with it. 

   Perhaps some part of him did feel betrayed by more than just the war in Heaven but the humans as well. Cast aside for those creatures that he had come to love and care for far more than his own family. To the point he would storm the clouds with an army and attempt to rip everything apart. The anger, that day, had come from somewhere and he had plenty of time over the years to consider it all. To think about Heaven, Lucifer, the choices he made, the things he’s done. The pain that was etched in him that he burned into his own brother. 

   God and the Grand Design. 

   The questions that he came down here searching for didn’t come from nowhere after all. All things have a foundation, a place they start at.

   At least this time when his wrist is grabbed he doesn’t pull away. His gaze does flicker down toward the hand holding onto him, the blackened skin stained with sin that clenched onto his own unnaturally white own. Like dirt rubbing against concrete, attempting to muddy it in a way that will never be washed off. He wonders, a bit, how long after his fall Lucifer’s hands turned like that. Or was it during it, while his broken burning wings failed to catch him? 

   ❛ did you have to go that far? ❜

   Raphael, perhaps, had been the most angry at that. At the way he had shattered Lucifer before throwing him. The Angel of Healing, no matter how hurt and traumatized he was over the lives he failed to save that day would still be angry over someone being so effortlessly decemated. Truthfully, he hadn’t had an answer to that question either. Did he really have to go as far as he did? Or had he let himself fall into the sin of wrath that day and still go unpunished for it himself?  

   The rules are shades of gray. 

   “I told you.” The reply finally manages to make it off of his tongue and Michael attempts to pull his hand back from Lucifer without viciously ripping it away as he had before. More a calm attempt to take it back. “After Sir Pentious got into Heaven, it was decided that we needed to see what the Hazbin Hotel actually was. If your daughter could repeat what she did. Though, admittedly, Azrael believes that in order for a soul to get a new afterlife it does have to perish first. And I doubt Charlie would like us to kill someone just to see if they find a new afterlife.” 

   If he words it heavily enough perhaps he can deflect from this conversation, not answer the true meaning that Lucifer was asking after. Because there were other reasons he was down here. Did that mean he wanted to admit them? 

   No. 

   He would rather choke on the fires of Hell than admit to the reason he was down here.

Lucifer was awake, though he had his eyes closed to rest them and sure the position he was in wasn't the most comfortable but it was fine. He heard the moment Michael startled awake due to the thunder that rumbled in the distance and silently cursed. That was partially his fault, he had let himself cry and Hell tended to respond whenever he did so out of sadness. He'd definitely been sad, still was in fact, but at least he'd stopped his own tears but Hell continued to reflect his mood until whenever it stopped. Could be soon, could be in the morning. Regardless, he would've preferred it if his brother had slept on until morning.

Instead of letting his twin know that he was awake, the King of Hell listened as Michael got out of bed and probably saw that he was in pajamas for a change. Idly, he hoped that the other liked them. When he'd chosen clouds it'd been because he'd thought of their baby blanket that was probably still up in Heaven. Probably. He wasn't sure, and was afraid to ask. When the sound of the wardrobe opening reached his ears, Lucifer opened his eyes and looked towards his twin for a brief moment before going back to the position he was in before and closed his eyes.

Better to keep Michael thinking he was still asleep for now. Leafaye had messaged him earlier with all the updates in regards to his meetings and any other appointments. He'd spoken briefly with Charlie and soothed her worries over his and Michael's lack of presence at the hotel. Then he'd remained by his brother's bedside the whole time, not wanting Michael to wake up alone in the room.

It'd given Lucifer a lot of time to think as well...

His brother had come to Hell for a reason and while what he'd told him about checking out Charlie's hotel was the initial one, Lucifer now felt there was more to it. His brother's faith has always been unshakable as far as he was aware. The words he'd spoken earlier should not have caused such a reaction, such a fracture in Michael that it affected his halo. Surely he's been told exactly what Lucifer told him before as well and left the conversation with a perfectly fine halo? So why had Lucifer saying it changed it?

The answer that the fallen angel had landed on was that his brother had doubts. Massive doubts if his words made that crack. Dammit, if only he hadn't kept pushing. But he's missed Michael, he wanted to be able to talk to him again. Though Michael had kept putting distance between them, whether it was physically or emotionally, over and over he kept doing that and Lucifer kept trying to bridge the gaps. He hates that he did this to Michael.

Wherever his train of thought would have gone stops as he hears Michael approach him. It takes everything in him to not jump when he feels a blanket being placed over his shoulder and Lucifer feels fuzzy inside that his brother did this. He reached out and gently wrapped a hand around one of Michael's wrists as he lifted his head and opened his eyes to finally look at his twin brother.

           "Neither did you, Mikey," Lucifer said in response to the archangel's words and he gave him a smile. "Did you sleep well?"

He knows that his brother will likely now try to make a speedier exit since Lucifer is 'awake' and not asleep. So he gets the next question out now, rip the bandaid as they say. "Why did you really come to Hell, Michael?"

[mistywaves98]

Just a short drabble about Albedo because I, for some reason, am so horny for him rn

¡Warnings!: Dubcon (or non con just to be safe), dacryphillia, anal sex, MEAN! Albedo, pleasure turns into pain, lots of toy use, sadism, let me know if I missed any!

Albedo who experiments on you for science (and his own curiosity). He wants to test various hypotheses revolving around the sexual aspect of a human. How many orgasms can your body take? Can you cum from just having your breasts played with? What makes you cum the fastest? You get the idea. The worst part though is that, you never agreed to this. Well, technically you did, you actually signed a contract and everything, unfortunately for you, there seemed to be something in fine print that you didn't read....

So now you're strapped to a lab table, arms and legs cuffed to the very corners of it, leaving you fully exposed and vulnerable, completely at his mercy. Your eyes widen as you see the selection of toys he has laid out, vibrators, dildos, etc. ready to test each and every one of them out on you. Albedo uses each toy to it's full potential. You'll be crying and begging for it to stop after the first 'experiment' it over, but your pleas are promptly dismissed by Albedo, who says there's still a lot more to go before he can even consider uncuffing you from the table.

Hour after hour passes and orgasm after orgasm. You're screaming for it to stop. It doesn't even feel good at this point, it hurts so much. The pain outweighs any pleasure that's still there. You say it's too much, you can't cum anymore. But Albedo doesn't take you on. In fact, he encourages you. Encourages you to keep screaming, keep crying, he's fucking loving it. Your pussy is raw and red, yet it still clenches down so hard on whatever he pushes in it.

You're about to pass out now, you see the black spots clouding your vision, but suddenly, you feel your hands falling limply to your side. Did he, after all this time, finally finish what he was doing? Are you free. Your tear-stained face would be smiling of you weren't so tired.

Wait. You aren't being released, you're being bent over his knee! He's not done?! Your weak voice chokes out a barely audible,'what are you doing?!' Albedo just smiles and says there's still a few things he wants to try, besides, he'll tell you when he's done, so stay quiet and let him do what he wants to your pretty body. Actually, scratch that last one. Don't be quiet. He wants to hear every single one of those utterly adorable noises you make as he's violating you. Probably even sticks a ring gag in your mouth to keep it open so you can't try to muffle anything. Even of you're too drained to moan and scream, a little whimper gets him going.

You're pretty much just wishing he'd kill you instead. This is torture. Suddenly, you yelp as you feel something hit your ass, hard. The stinging sensation it leaves behind is no better as well. Then another and another and another. Right when you think it's done, something else meets the flesh of your behind once more, however, this one feels different. Must be a belt and the previous item a riding crop. But you aren't to sure, you're just in so much pain. You use what little strength you have left to try and wriggle away, but Albedo effortlessly holds your squirming body in place as he brings the belt down once more. Your now red ass is such a beautiful sight to look at, your whimpers and cries and tears make it even more amusing. Albedo can't help but smirk sadistically as you writhe in pain on his knee. He's wondering if to just postpone the other experiments, he wants to put his painfully hard cock in you now.

But that might not be the best idea. Your pussy walls and insides are still raw and any rough pounding could result in some serious damage, bleeding and all that. He wouldn't though, it's just that it may be dangerous for your health and he can't have you dying on him or anything. So, solution? Well, your ass is right there and anal sex was never something he was ever against anyway. Despite his mind telling him to just rail you right now, his heart figured you could use a break.

He holds your face with one hand as the other brings a towel to your puffy cheeks. Your eyes are red and swollen from crying rivers and Albedo smiles wickedly. You're so beautiful like this, such a shame he has to wipe it away (then again, he didn't have to, but he's not that heartless <3). Your hair is a disheveled mess too, adding to your fucked out look. You're still hiccuping and can barely hold your own head up. Just when you're starting to get into the moment Albedo suddenly pulls away and rests the towel on a nearby desk. Then he puts you back onto the table you were originally cuffed to and flips you onto your stomach. It's not long before tears begin welling up in your eyes again as you know what's coming.

His pace is brutal, slamming back into your poor asshole with such force it's a wonder the table hasn't cracked yet. You've finally passed out too, but that doesn't stop him from destroying you. In fact, he's a little sad you've lost consciousness, now he can't hear the sounds of agony you make as he fucks you. Once he feels his orgasm approaching, he speeds up just a bit more. It's inhumane, how fast he's going. He lets out a euphoric groan as he spills his seed inside of your ass. He stops to catch his breath a bit before pulling out. Immediately, his cum gushes out, there's so much of it. He watches as the substance trails down your unconscious body's thighs and legs, so satisfying.

Don't worry though, he'll make sure you wake up in a comfy bed the next day, with some fresh water and a warm meal. You'll definitely be feeling sore fore weeks, maybe even months. You probably won't even be fully recovered by the time Mondstadt's #1 alchemist is ready for you once more!

Help I finished this at 1 in the morning 😩 I'm so tired rn

[leonwifey]

“𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑹𝒀𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝒀𝑺.” — you thought you had been in love all this time.

˚୨୧ genre — angst, lots of hurt with absolutely no comfort

˚୨୧ word count — 1,233

˚୨୧ note — not only is this a terribly written piece, but it is also definitely not at all inspired by personal events... basically a long distance relationship not working out + many words pulled out of my ass!! (re2) leon is also kind of mean here, but that's okay..

“So, I guess this is it.” You nod wearily, trying to disguise the way your voice wavers. “Listen, I… I love you.” 

Those were simply the last three words you would ever tell him. 

Thinking back at it now, you regret telling him that. Immensely. But when you had said it to him then, staring at each other’s lonely figure under the dim streetlamp’s light... You meant it. Just like you always did, holding the weight of your words close to your heart, in the only way you’ve ever known how to say it.

Within the confines of your mind, the scene still sits all too clearly. Your little mind’s theater loves to replay that part.

The one scene where you had stood meekly at that rusty train station in Raccoon City. In the very train station he would always pick you up from, where you’d never miss the handsome face amidst the sea of busy people because he’d always find you. That very train station you arrive to whenever your heart yearned for him, rushing impatiently into his strong arms and musky scent, uncaring of the looks bypassers gave you. It was the only station where together the two of you would run down the steps giggling hand in hand, lost in the addictive taste of laughter and affection, trying to catch both the last train and the last sweet kiss from those lips you called your favorite. 

Somewhere, somehow, during those three years of being so desperately and earnestly in love with him did you realize that it was never going to be enough. Forever with him was always meant to fall apart. You were foolish to believe that you both had been in love all this time. Still, you wish to have asked him when he had changed his mind about you.

“I know.” Leon would reply, those two parting words soft and hollow with blinking innocence. His heart was heavy with fragments of you.

Every part of him was unforgettable and cruel. Those ocean eyes that never failed to cut through the deepest parts of you remain rooted as a ghost in your memories. The kind of blues you could never chase away.

Adjusting the bag on your shoulder, you entered the train and fought the urge to turn back. It was the last time he’d see you board the train and the first time you never looked back. No longer did you open the window as the train sped off, calling out to your lover as the fast wind drowned out your vows to return to him. 

You let out a long sigh, one you hadn’t known to be holding in for years. Slouching in your seat, you stared at the glimmering moon beside you, wondering if it was just as lonely and lovelorn as you. You wondered if the world knew what was to come, as if it was simply destiny for things to end the way it did. The fate of your relationship with Leon was far from soul binding, your red strings untangling so effortlessly. Clearly a soulmate who wasn’t meant to be.

The exhaustion that hid beneath your eyelids had finally caught up to you as you leaned against the rickety window. You allowed yourself to rest, where only in your dreams and memories did you get to see him again. A place where everything seemed to stay, except Leon.

Autumn leaves crunch beneath your boots with your every step, the gentle fall breeze kissing your cheeks. You walk merrily as you gaze up at the changing leaves around you, colors illuminating with the street lamps. At the end of the path you see Leon, handsome in his coat and knitted scarf. “Come on, let’s take a walk.” He beckons with an outstretched hand.

When you catch up to him, he grabs your hand to place it inside his own coat pocket. A thumb brushes against the back of your hand, causing you to blush slightly. You send him a look to which he returns with a goofy smile that warms your heart all the same. “Just trying to keep my baby warm.”

“You already do that, though.” You say matter of factly. 

“Yeah, but it’s not everyday that we get to do this.” He hums, pulling out your intertwined hands to swing them back and forth, the two of you walking in sync. 

“Should I move out here, then?” You tilt your head at your boyfriend, watching for a reaction.

The park that you stand in is quiet. Almost as if it was an audience member that watches you and all of your feelings fall apart. You try not to make your frown evident as you observe the way he shakes his head, bangs falling in front of his eyes. You stop walking, pulling him back and tugging his hand, silently urging him to look at you. He can never look at you when you need him to.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that.” He admits, voice calm against the chilly weather.

“What do you mean? Leon, I come here as often as I can," The sound of your almost pleading voice causes you to wince. “I come here because I want to see you, because I miss you.”

“But do you come because you want to be with me?” His calloused hand pulls away from the warmth of yours. “Why didn’t you come with me after I graduated from the academy? When I asked you to come with me, why didn’t you?”

Your eyes widen at his rising voice, tears already threatening to spill from your eyes. You stare back at his dark furrowed brows, yet those eyes of his remain thoughtfully innocent.

Why? Why hadn’t you followed him to Raccoon City? Why couldn’t you have tried a little harder?

Swallowing slowly, you look away to blink rapidly, a small effort to delay your stream of tears. “Because… Because I was scared. I was scared of slowing you down, that’d you get tired of having me in your new life. I just didn’t want to sacrifice everything you’ve been dreaming of.”

Leon scoffs, shoving his hands into his jean pockets. “You wanna know what I think?” 

Holding your breath, you stay silent, biting your trembling lip.

“For all these years I’ve loved you, you still don’t understand me. I’ve always wanted you here. With me. Everything I've been dreaming of? Don't you think you're part of that dream, too?" The blonde pauses, running a shaky hand through his hair and taking a moment to gather his thoughts. "Why? Why wouldn’t you just put your pride down and think about us instead of screwing it up?”

“I just… I only wanted what was best for you, Leon…” You whisper, head hanging low.

“Yeah, and that was a pretty shitty thing to do. Look, it's not about me anymore. It's about us. I just thought you knew that.” 

Stunned and feeling as though rendered useless, you could find no other way to fight him over this. You couldn't change him, you couldn't change his mind even if you were given more time.

After all, he was right. You would never understand him. How could you? How could you understand someone so bright and full of so much spirit when in every way, Leon would always be far away from you. He was never within your reach.

His broad back turns from you and you watch him fade into the infinite darkness, leaving you in the cold night where both in your worst dreams and the material world do you shed the same tears.

Just where everything stays, but him.