#collaboration fic

[mossyomens]

HIII it has been so long since I posted on here. BUT. I come bearing exciting news. I finally get to post for my first bang of the season, the @transomensevents minibang. I was granted the honor of working with @chernozemm, who made an absolutely gorgeous piece for this collab

The fic itself centers around Warlock Dowling, and around queer acceptance. It was written for my own inner teen, who needed an escape like this more than I ever could say back then. Happy 1 year anniversary to GO season 2 (and to 1 year of renewed brainrot for me), and if you feel like it, give this a read to celebrate such an auspicious day. Much love to y'all

[cellythefloshie]

;; Icebreaker Chapter Three of Cool for the Summer

Table of Contents Chapter Two «« 🤍 »» Chapter Four

Summary: Harper has to work, but that doesn't stop Andrei from trying to get to know her. TW: No triggers apply. Word Count: 4k+

This series to be read in conjecture with @hockeyboysimagines I Loved You Three Summers.

That heaviness your body has when you've actually slept through the night without interruption? Harper had it. It was a fog on her mind as she rolled over in her bed, her hand searching the darkness for where her phone had fallen after aimlessly scrolling through social media when her mind had been too loud to sleep. Blindly, she searched until the covers, her bare legs tangling with the blankets until she found it tucked until one of her too fluffy pillows that had been pushed to the other side of the bed. Her eyes squinted, preparing for the bright light of her phone as she pressed the power nutty again and again, but the light never came. It was dead. 

Cursing, she pushed her blanket aside, her mind and body now suddenly awake as she searched a nearby box for her digital clock. Her hands fumbled over familiar objects, catching corners and awkward shapes before she saw the deep neon green glow of the snooze button. She dropped to her knees; the carpet burning her knees as she fished out the box and read the big bold numbers. Then, as quickly as she picked it up from the box, Harper was dropping it back into her mess of belongings. 

She was late. 

Pounding against her chest, and up into her ears was her heart as she moved through the room like a summer storm. Harper tripped over boxes as she lurched for a light switch, but the harsh fluorescent lights were still not enough to keep her from kicking the bed as she walked by it, nor could she seem to find anything she needed for her workday. Every bit of her life was still packed away in a box in a room that was familiar, yet it didn't feel like her own. 

She stumbled through just as she stumbled through life, on the verge of tears and a veil of self confidence as she pulled on the same shirt she had worn the day before and a pair of yoga pants from the top of one of the boxes. Quick hands pulled her blond hair back in a messy ponytail and for time's sake she would go barefaced. Then, Harper was taking the stairs two steps at a time and moved straight for the kitchen. 

Makeup could be skipped, but coffee could not. 

Passing her sister, who sat propped up on the stool at the kitchen island, Harper envied her for only a moment. If only for her calm in the early morning, and the big bowl of watermelon that sat in front of her on the counter. 

Harper's stomach growled, her eyes shutting as she tried to ignore the feeling of hunger that became all the more consuming as she stood in the kitchen. Her hands fumbled around her cup, ice rumbling in the refrigerator as it spilled down into the cup. Some rattle there. While others missed and fell to the floor. She groaned, so close to swearing and tossing her cup into the sink. But she persisted. Even as the ice tumbled to the floor again, she did her best not to let it get to her - even if sitting in a drive through for an ice coffee just seemed easier. She needed to do it for herself. 

A heavy breath rocked her, the rush of hair blowing loose hair that had fallen out of her ponytail out of her face. 

“I won't be home until after dinner, running club tonight so don't worry about me-” Harper's words were rushed as she rounded the counter, one hand putting her coffee down to pick up her work bag before she was hugging her sister in a quick embrace - hoping that if her shirt stunk, Maddie would be bold enough to tell her before she left. But when they exchanged nothing more than soft, tired smiles and see you later, Harper was stepping into a pair of Crocs and running out the door. 

Stumbling down the steps, she almost lost one of the bright sunshine yellow Crocs. Her steps stuttered as she tried to fit her foot back into it just right as she jogged down the crowded driveway to her Jeep that was parked on the street, out of the way until she could return to U-Haul by the end of the night, hopefully. 

Her hand fell to the handle, pulling it twice before she realized she hadn't unlocked the door. Harper dug through her work bag, searching for her keys. It was with her head down, as she mumbled to herself about how she should just call in and cancel all her appointments to her day, that Harper was greeted by a thick low Russian accent that left her jolting with the sudden realization that she wasn't alone. 

“Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

Harper glanced back over her shoulder and to the driveway that neighbors hers. Seth and Andrei stood in it, fully dressed for their days and smiling. Smiling when she wanted to do nothing more than scream and cry and go back to bed when nothing seemed to be going right. She hated it. 

“Work,” she answered him simply as her hands wrapped around the keys. Her thumb pressed down on the fob, unlocking it with ease. 

“What do you do?” Andrei asked, his hands falling into the pockets of his shorts as he moved down the drive. 

Harper bit the inside of her cheek. He was a good kid; she was sure of it, but she didn't have time for this. 

“Physiotherapy,” she kept her answer short as she climbed into the front seat, leaving the door open as she settled in. Harper needed to go, but she wasn't going to slam the door in his face. 

“When do you get off?”

Second thought, maybe she should slam the door in his face. 

“Late,” she bit out as she reached up to fix her rear-view mirror. 

“So, you'll need a lunch date, then?”

Harper's eyes rolled at his boldness. Oh, how nice it must be to be so young, attractive and used to getting everything you wanted. And no one could tell her Andrei was treated otherwise. Not when the cocky, confident smile he wore said it all. The boy wasn't used to rejection, on or off the ice. 

“If you want to see me between the hours of nine and five, you'll have to make an appointment,” Harper took a breath, the professionalism in her words almost exhausting as her hand dropped to her cupholder where her cup of coffee was supposed to be. 

Harper leaned her back against her headrest, defeated. Her coffee was still on the counter. 

“Are you al-” Harper could hear the concern in Andrei's voice as he stood just outside the front door of her Jeep, her eyes watering, on the verge of tears as she started to get out of the car to rush back inside for her drink. 

But then she sees Maddie practically tiptoeing over the cold driveway, her iced coffee in hand. She's still in her pajamas, an oversized t-shirt that doesn't quite seem long enough and a pair of frilly pink shorts that Harper hoped was a big enough distraction for Andrei to forget that he was so close to seeing her cry. 

“You're a lifesaver, Mads!” Harper sighed, reaching out with one hand for the coffee before forcing a smile and looking up at Andrei, who still lingered nearby. Who still wore a look of concern as he looked down at her perched in her driver's seat.

Her skin crawled under the gaze of the unwanted attention, her hands reaching out to grasp at the steering wheel as she tried to divert his attention away from her. “I work today, but Maddie here, she's free all day,” she spoke quickly, hoping Maddie wouldn't mind. 

“Maddie, this is Seth's friend, Andrew-”

“Andrei,” he was quick to correct her. 

“Right,” she nodded, not even looking at it in fear that he would somehow see in her eyes or on her features that she knew his name, first and last. Or somehow learn that her curiosity had gotten the best of her and that she had spent the better part of her night scrolling his NHL stats page when she couldn't sleep. “You three should do something.” 

The suggestion seemed sweet, sincere, as she reached up and pulled her sunglasses from the sun visor. Forcing a smile, Harper slid them up the bridge of her nose and offered the pair a wave before she left them as nothing but a reflection of her rearview. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Sweat dripped in beads down the back of Andrei's neck. Not the shade of the golf cart, or the ball cap he wore on his head, could save him from the heat of the sun as it continued to rise in the sky. They couldn't have been on the course for more than an hour, but it had already felt like it had been all day. Andrei didn't know why it felt that way. Maybe it was simply the heat, or maybe it was the fact they were only on the third hole and Seth was still busy trying to teach Madison how to hit a golf ball. 

The petite blonde stood in the tee zone, taking her time positioning herself around the tee as she shook out her thick hair that hung down her back in waves. Maddison had an effortless beauty, one that other women wanted and one any guy would have gone crazy for - and Seth was every bit of his attention devoted to her as he guided her every move with his words or a casual touch. But Andrei’s mind was still thinking of Harper. 

Leaning against the back of the golf cart, Andrei sipped back an ice cold water bottle and tried to rid his mind of the sad look in her eyes that she had when she drove to work earlier in the morning. It made his heart sink. He didn’t know her - and it was clear in the short time he had gotten to speak to her that she was far from interested in getting to know him - but that didn’t deter Andrei. A beautiful girl like her deserved to smile, and he wanted to be the one to do it. 

His hand dipped into the pocket of his shorts, grasping at it as he hesitated to draw it out. Andrei wanted to find out where she worked. He wanted to go there, to bring her lunch and try to brighten her day. But he also knew how weird that was. It would be creepy to stalk her out like that, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask Madison about her. Would it?

Leaning into the cart, Andrei put his water into the cup holder before approaching Maddie and Seth at the tee, interrupting the conversation they were having with his own selfish question. “So, your sister, she doesn’t like me. Yes?”

Maddie turned in place, her shoulders tensing, then relaxing as she looked him up and down with a small smile on her lips. “Now, why would you think that?” She cocked her head to the side, her wide blue eyes bright with the sparkle of mischief. 

Andrei’s shoulders slouched, his hands dropping into his pockets in an attempt to seem careless. But his scoff betrayed him. “She knew my name wasn’t Andrew.”

Her giggle was so sweet it turned his stomach sour as he stepped back to give Seth room to fumble around the cart. It left Andrei wishing he had his own distraction as his hands began to sweat as bad as the back of his neck. Maybe he shouldn’t have started such a conversation. 

“You caught that? It’s not that she doesn’t like you. Harper’s just been through a lot.”

Andrei leaned in, hoping to be given even the slightest insight. “Like?”

“I’d love to fill you in,” Maddie told him and he held his breath, only for it to release slowly and sadly, like a deflating balloon, “but that’s Harper’s story to tell.” But she indulged him in the slightest, “For context, her ex is an asshole, and she just moved back home. She’s still a little fragile right now, so if she comes across as being rude, it’s because she’s still hurting.”

There was a clamor in the back of the golf car, curing through the seriousness of the conversation with a swear and another curse from Seth before he joined the conversation. “Who’s an asshole?”

Seth was someone who could insert himself into anything. He had a charisma that was magnetic, and an approachability that left everyone comfortable no matter the situation. Which was probably why Madison was so comfortable as he reached around her to check his phone in the golf card, and why she didn’t even flinch as his body grazed against hers. A part of the entire interaction made Andrei jealous. He wanted a connection like that. 

“Darren,” Maddie told him simply, before her smile grew wider and her hand was reaching out to pat his forearm, “Your friend here has a thing for my sister.”

Seth shrugged. “Not surprising. Everyone has a thing for your sister.” His words had left his lips so carelessly that Andrei could see Seth’s eyes go wide before he could find the words to backtrack. “Not me though. I’ve never liked your sister. That would be, uh- weird.”

“Yeah,” Andrei agreed, his voice then dropping low enough for only Seth to hear, “because she is the wrong sister.”

Seth cocked his arm, ready to throw a punch at him, but it never came. If it had been just the two of them, maybe they would have come to blows. Nothing serious, just roughhousing until one of them conceded. In the presence of Maddie, however, they behaved. Or well, tried to. 

“Harper can be complicated,” Maddie spoke again as she leaned back against the golf cart, her arms folded over her chest casually, “but she’s worth it. She’s got a lot going on, but these last few days I’ve started to see the old Harper more and more. She’s healing, and father than I think anyone expected. She’ll come around. You just have to get to know her.”

“I want to, but she’s making it difficult,” Andrei’s words slipped from his lips in a sigh. His head hung for a moment at how pathetic they sounded. He should have been letting himself get so distracted by her. Not when she was so blatantly disinterested. Not when he had intended to spend his time in Winnipeg training, not yearning after the girl next door. 

And yet, when Maddie smiled, “guess that means you have your work cut out for you. Now, who’s taking me for a ride?” Her question punctuated with the shrill jingle of keys, Andrei was the first to jump at the opportunity because the time alone with her meant time he could use to get to know Harper. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The wrapper of her lunch was left soggy from the steam of what was now a cold burger and fries from the McDonald's down the block. It was the downside of waking up late and having to get lunch delivered, and Harper was suffering for it. Its cheese felt like plastic on her tongue and the fries were stiff. The only redeeming quality of each bite was the extra pickles they hadn't forgotten, for once, and a generous amount of ketchup. But not even that one small feat could distract her from the notifications on her phone as she pulled it from her pocket and placed it face up on the table. 

Three missed calls and seven text messages. They were all from Darren.

Harper had left him the engagement ring. She had packed up all her belongings and left the apartment she had once lived in on her own before he moved in with her. And she had told him countless times that they were over. Yet, he couldn't seem to accept the decision that she had made to move on with her life without him. 

Her fingers danced over the screen, deleting each text and each call from her history. But when her finger hesitated over the last call, with his picture and his name so clear to her eyes, Harper contemplated calling him. She considered listening to whatever half-assed apology or excuse he had crafted for her. Harper even considered accepting it and going home to him just to feel a semblance of normalcy. To go back to a life she hated, instead of feeling so tired, and alone and sorry for herself. Because going back to Darren would be good, at least for a time. He would help cook, and he would clean, even buy her small gifts, just to remind her that he cared. And he would do all of that until he didn't. Those sweet acts of kindness would fade into nothingness, into heartache. So Harper deleted that last call, and his contact in her phone - as if she didn't have his number memorized - and instead, she texted her sister, Maddie. 

Of course, Seth was a nice guy. He always had been, ever since he was a kid- Harper ran a hand over her face, her eyes shutting in a long, tired realization. Madison wasn't talking about Seth. She was talking about Andrei. 

Harper noticed she wasn't blind. Andrei probably looked good in anything. It was the perks of being an athlete and well, good genetics. With his strong jawline, charming smile and soft eyes - if Harper was 5 years younger, maybe she would have considered taking the time to get to know him. But she wasn't about to fulfill Andrei's older-woman summer fling fantasy. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Crouched down in the middle of the sidewalk, Harper fumbled with the laces of her runners that had come untied somewhere between her dark and the sign-in station by the front door. She had swayed the loose lace back and forth as she signed in each runner, some she recognized and others that were new, but with only a few blank spaces on the list and start time drawing near, she needed to be ready to go. There was a patter of feet around her, then there was a rush of voices. So many at once she couldn't make out just one. But there was a sense of excitement in every voice. She could hear it, feel it even as she pushed up off the ground to stand and dusted her hands off on her shorts. And it excited her too, to get started on their run in the early evening, but when she looked at the running group that had clustered together in what looked more like a mob, it quickly became clear that it wasn't the run the group was excited for, but for an unexpected guest. Seth.

No. Two guests. 

Andrei was there, too. 

He was hard to miss, standing a towering six-foot-two in a group that was primarily women and their children who stood no taller than five-foot-nine. And he was a walking poster for the Carolina Hurricanes in black and red team branded gear that not even Seth had thought to put on for the run. For a moment, Harper thought that it might be all he had, but then she remembered the conversation they had in the driveway that morning. Andrei wanted to know where she worked, he wanted to take her out to lunch. He was there with Seth, so brightly dressed in red to be seen, not by the runners but by her. 

Gripping her clipboard tight, Harper left her post by the door where she had been waiting for the final runner to arrive and maneuvered through the crowd with a smile and a soft excuse when it was needed. She could hear the click of the exaggerated noise of a camera lense snapping on each smartphone as pictures of Seth and his teammate were taken. And she could hear each friendly exchange they shared with her runners. 

“-my son is never going to believe this-”

“-yeah let's get a picture to show him-”

“-I used to work with your mother, you know-”

“-I'll be sure to tell her you say hi-”

But not even their politeness could fully rid of the knot that threatened to take her face. They weren't supposed to be there. How they even found out where-

Harper sighed. Of course, they would find out. They spent the entire day with Madison, and if it hadn't been her, she wouldn't have put it past her dad to tell them, either. In the end, it didn't really matter who did it. The pair were there now, and she was being forced to deal with it. 

“Hey guys,” Harper spoke with a false pleasantry, her back and shoulders stiff as she looked between the two hockey players that were smiling as if they were children that had just been caught doing something wrong. “Are you on our participation list?”

Seth pressed his lips together, fighting back the smile she knew could so quickly become a laugh. “Should be. Check under Seth and-”

Her eyes rolled as her gaze dropped to the clipboard in her hands. She scanned over each name and signature and found the two blank spaces at the bottom of the list. They had been late in the day additions, written in her coworker’s scrawl: Seth J. and Andre S.

“Perfect,” Harper spoke through the grit teeth of her smile, “That's everyone then.”

Raising her clipboard up, she flagged down the attention of her coworker and shouted, “we got everyone! I'll take the rear!” 

It seemed like the smart thing to do at the moment. Hanging At the back of the group meant giving her enough time to tuck the clipboard away in the office and lock up. It meant avoiding having to lead the pre-run warm up and only really having to offer support and guidance to those who fell behind. Best of all, Harper thought it would give her the biggest distance between herself and the two athletes that continued to impress the group with their mere presence. But she was wrong. 

While Seth ran with the bulk of the group, his energy contagious and keeping morale high, Andrei fell back, his pace slow and steady to match her own. He ran by her side, silent and focused, only looking at her when he was spoken to two blocks into their route. 

“What are you even doing here?” She asked him, genuinely curious. Did they not have anything better to do with their time?

“Running,” he answered simply, smiling. 

“But why?” Harper asked.

Andrei answered. “It was too late to book the afternoon appointment.”

Harper's head snapped in his direction, her expression softened in disbelief. She didn't want to believe that he had even tried to make an appointment, because Harper couldn't understand why. He had only just met her yesterday, and his interest in her was unlike anyone else. Maybe he was just bored, or didn't like being told no - but he was kind, albeit a little awkward and unorthodox in his methods. 

“Usually, when people make appointments with me, it's because they need help with something. Not because they wanted to buy me lunch, and I said no,” Harper pointed out as a hand raised to push her hair out of her face. 

Andrei's smile split over his features, a low laugh rumbling through him before he spoke. “My ankle. It hurts from time to time.”

“What happened?” 

Sighing, his smile wavered. “Zdeno Chára.” 

“Oh,” Harper didn't press any further, her gaze dropping to the sidewalk to watch as the cracks in the pavement fell in their wake with every stride.

“It's good,” he assured her, and Harper swore she could feel the warmth of his hand reach out to her in a ghost of a touch that didn't reach her shoulder. “No pain right now. I will tell you if it comes. But next time, maybe we can just go out for lunch?”

Harper had to bite her lip to keep herself from laughing. She bit down so hard her lip began to swell, and the two ran together, side by side, for the rest of the run in silence. 

She didn't know what, but the kid was giving up on her just yet. Maybe Seth had put him up to it, like some kind of cruel bet to get back at her for making him go to bed early when he was ten. Or maybe Andrei genuinely wanted to take her out and a single rejection wasn't going to stand in his way. 

And would keep declining. She had to. Sure, the Carolina Hurricanes forward was cute, but he was young. Harper didn't know it was by a year or two or five, but her standard wasn't one that was going to be bent for anyone, not even an NHL player. Besides, maybe the second rejection would be enough to show she wasn't inserted. And if it didn't? Harper was sure there would be the opportunity for a third time. 

Taglist: @starshine-hockey-girl , @wingedwheelprxncess , @mp0625 , @misunderstoodwerewolf , @callsign-denmark , @puckmaidens , @xciciix , @cixrosie

[marvel-ous-m]

Faire Thee Well

"Love had not been kind to them in this life, but maybe love would be kind to them in another. " 🥀

WC: 9,850 | Rating: Teen and Up Audiences | Tags: Temporary Character Death, Reincarnation, AU: Renaissance Period, AU: Modern Day, Soulmates, Hurt/Comfort, Right Person Wrong Time, Platonic Stobin, Platonic Hellcheer

I attended my first Ren Faire with my best friend, @lamoabss. We saw a joust, we said "hey, that's Steddie coded", and we decided to do something about it. They have created some BREATHTAKING art for this fic, which you can view here. (Their art for this fic is quite literally one of the coolest things I've ever seen). Getting to collaborate with one of my closest friends on such an emotional story has been an absolute dream come true, and I hope that you enjoy it as much as we enjoyed creating it!

Snippet below the cut!

“You know something about today. Something that you are not telling me.” Steaphan’s shoulders tensed at the sudden accusation from an all too familiar voice. The intruder was behind him, lurking in the tent’s entryway while Steaphan readied himself in the mirror and mentally prepared himself for the day’s events. 

On a normal day, such a trespass would be welcome- celebrated, even. 

Today was not a normal day. 

“We should not be seen speaking to one another before the joust, Sir Eduardo. We may be accused of collusion.” 

“That has not been a worry you have expressed before, my knight.” Eduardo’s response was quick, spoken with a flirtatious lilt. 

Steaphan’s heart strained in mourning of what was to come. “Enter the tent you fool, lest you draw more attention than you surely already have.”

Eduardo stepped out of the entryway, letting the tent’s curtained doorway fall shut behind him as he moved towards where Steaphan was standing. “Such kind words spoken today. Pray tell, what have I done to earn this warm welcome, my heart?” 

Steaphan turned on his heel so that he could face the knight whom he had come to love so dearly. “You must drop out of the joust. Claim that you have fallen ill, feign injury, anything . You cannot fight today- we must not fight today.” 

Eduardo’s playful expression fell away, replaced by something far more worrisome. “I knew it. You know of something- what is it?” 

“Nothing that has been confirmed, my rose, but you must listen to me. I had a vision in my sleep. The crowd grew bloodthirsty, and with our kings not being on good terms… they called for a match to the death, and my king allowed it. We were made to decide which one of us would fall at the hands of the other, and-” 

Steaphan’s ramble was ceased by Eduardo, who stepped forward to place his palm on Steaphan’s bare chest, over his heart. “-but this has not been confirmed? Your king has given no sign of seeking bloodshed on this day?” 

“Nay, but it would not be the only time a vision in my dreams has manifested before mine eyes. When I was a boy, my mother told me that we have sorcery in our lineage. At the time, I thought she was weaving fantastical stories for her child, but now I fear it may be true. I cannot bear to see you befallen by my own hands, nor can I allow you to shoulder the burden of slaying me with yours.” 

Eduardo took a deep breath, then moved his hand up from Steaphan’s painted chest so that he could cup the knight’s cheek. “I cannot disobey my oath, Sir Steaphan. I dare not bring dishonor to my king. If your vision is true, I will either face combat and be killed by thy hands, or be slain for my cowardice upon my return to my country.”

“I cannot be the cause of your death, my rose.” Steaphan rested his hand atop Eduardo’s, and met his heart’s piercing gaze with his own watery glare. 

“Then let us pray that thy mother’s stories were just stories, and that thy dream was just a dream.” Eduardo took a half-step forward, crossing the distance between himself and Steaphan so that he could capture the man’s lips in a searing kiss. 

Their expression of love was broken by the sound of trumpets and a roaring crowd, their signal that they would be due to begin the joust in mere moments. 

Eduardo broke the kiss and raised his hand to trace the woven plaits of the intricate braids in Steaphan’s hair for what could very well be the final time. “Whatever happens on the field today- my love, you must not blame yourself. We are but pawns in our master’s feuds. In life and in death, I swear to hold no grudge against you for the actions you must take.” 

A tear rolled down Steaphan’s cheek, wetting the war paint brushed over his eye. “You must ready yourself for combat, my knight. I will see you on the field.” 

Eduardo nodded silently and returned to his place in the tent’s entryway. Before making his leave, however, he turned back around to face Steaphan, and gave an exaggerated bow. “May thy lance by steady, and may thine aim be true.” 

Steaphan clenched his eyes shut and took a shaky breath, then exhaled the air in a sob. “May thy lance by steady, and may thine aim be true.” 

Eduardo gave him a final sympathetic look, then exited the tent, leaving Steaphan to finish his preparations for the joust. 

Click here to continue reading, and to see the art made for this fic!

[sereia1313]

Afterglow

@inu-spiration always comes up with such great themes! I had the privilge of working with @stardust414 and she created a stunning piece of art to go with our idea!

Read it on Ao3 and FFnet.

See (and swoon) over Stardust's art here!

Summary: Usually, Sesshoumaru paid the mortals no mind. They’d built him a splendid temple, and offerings littered the steps daily, but the gifts had begun to wane, and the murmurs of a goddess taking human form had begun to get louder.

Sneak Peek

A creak of the cottage door had him bounding back into the trees, unwilling to give up his cover even with his glamour firmly intact. He watched with wide eyes as a woman clad in pale robes and a determined glare stepped outside of the safety of her enclosure.

"Who's there?" she demanded. Sesshoumaru kept still, not wanting to relinquish his position even as her eyes flickered in his direction.

Breath stilled in his lungs as he was engulfed in an oceanic tempest, waves crashing upon his psyche as she held him captivated. The flush of her cheeks was nothing compared to the ferocity in her eyes, and it was a wonder he hadn't been burned on the spot.

She was stunning.

Raven curls fell around her shoulders, slightly tangled, as if she'd been pulled from a deep sleep. Chin raised defiantly, she scanned the area, hands gripping the door. She looked nothing like any goddess he had seen before, but he wished her to be one all the same. If he were a lesser being, he'd have grovelled at her feet—if only to get a better view.

"I do not fear you," she called out. "And you will find no solace here. Be gone before you meet the same end as your brothers." She was steadfast, like a warrior ready for battle, and Sesshoumaru remained still until well after she'd disappeared back inside.

Perhaps he'd been too hasty. Any female would've felt threatened if they'd heard noises outside their home so late at night. To his credit, he hadn't expected anything, let alone her, but he'd covered his tracks, his aura and presence hidden, so the fact she'd sensed anything piqued his curiosity.

Leaning back against the tree, intent on keeping an eye on her until she was willing to answer his questions, he rested one arm upon a bent knee, casting his gaze upward to the darkened sky. There must have been candles lit from within, as she'd glowed when she'd opened the door. But even as that thought crossed his mind, his brow pinched into a frown.

She'd felt human.

[wixiany]

Team #5 - Tied

@codywanreversebang​ is here! @nhyhu​ created 3 beautiful art pieces for our fic, and me, @insertmeaningfulusername​, and @embeanwrites​ wrote each one part - the before, the during and the aftermath. We can't wait for you all to see and read it! ♥

Summary:

Qui-Gon is gone and Obi-Wan, freshly promoted to a Jedi Knight, needs to take care of a Padawan of his own, but doubts and insecurities plague him. Elsewhere in the galaxy, Cody and his brothers are struggling through rigorous training on the water planet of Kamino.

They meet and start working together once the Clone Wars begin. They steal comfortable and quiet moments with each other, slowly working their way towards more than just a friendship between Commander and General. But the war is relentless. In a skirmish, Cody is fatally injured. Obi-Wan reaches deep into the Force and into himself to change Cody’s fate, and in doing so, a powerful Force bond is created.

Now, they will have to navigate the war and their growing affection alongside an as of yet unprecedented bond.

or: Obi-Wan and Cody's journeys before and throughout the war and their relationship (in 3 parts)

Find the fanfic here!

The first stunning art by @nhyhu​:

[unlockthelore]

Fandom: Wind Breaker - にいさとる | Nii Satoru (Manga), Wind Breaker (Anime) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Togame Jo/Tomiyama Chouji, Togame Jo & Tomiyama Chouji Additional Tags: Shishitoren Arc (Wind Breaker), Haircuts, Complicated Relationships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Reconciliation, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Banter, References to Depression, Touch-Starved, Trust Issues, Attempt at Humor, Hugs, Light Angst, Pre-Relationship, Feelings Realization, Hopeful Ending

Summary:

"Let me cut your hair for ya, Jō."

Since the gradual fall of Shishitōren began, Jō has had to make split-second choices to buy time for Chōji to find his way back out of the cave he'd disappeared into. And if time wasn't enough, he swore to guard Chōji's dwelling until he was ready to come out and shine his light on the world again. Not once did he expect some upstart with an Othello movement on his head to tip the delicate balance, or for Chōji to emerge all on his own.

But once all is said and done, they'd have to do something to keep from moving backward. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, but what change lately hasn't been?

( or, a fic about jō getting his haircut and the beginning of healing a relationship - mourned but never lost )

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

I need to make Ford into a goddamn Disney Princess that can communicate with animals except he just has a special connection with the supernatural. Do you understand when I say that I need him to have a BOND with the strange creatures and anomalies of the nature in Gravity Falls. DO YOU SEE MY VISION WHEN I SAY THAT THE FOREST ITSELF IS FRIENDS WITH HIM. DO YOU GET WHAT I MEAN WHEN I SAY THAT THE MYSTERIOUS MAILBOX WOULD SOMETIMES GIVE HIM WARNINGS; AND HOW STEVE THE TREE GIANT WOULD SOMETIMES SCOOCH THINGS OVER SO HE DOESN'T TRIP WHILE HE HAS HIS FACE BURIED INSIDE HIS JOURNAL; OR HOW ALL THE CREATURES WITHIN GRAVITY FALLS JUST UNANIMOUSLY IS COOL WITH STANFORD WHILE HE HIMSELF HAS NO IDEA. HE IS SPIRITUALLY CONNECTED WITH THE FOREST IN SOME ELDRITCH MANNER BUT HE DOESN'T KNOW. DO YOU SEE MY VISION??

[sameschmidtdiffname]

I personally choose to believe that the Hunger Games series is supposed to be Katniss's memoir/way of setting the record straight about her and her loved ones part in the Games/war. Meaning I think the entire country of New Panem was going into a FIT with every new chapter they read, let alone book. Just imagine the podcasts for a second.

"SO THE STAR-CROSSED LOVERS OF DISTRICT 12."

"YEAH."

"FATED SOULMATES."

"DESTINED TO BE TOGETHER."

"Role model for all of our relationships, I think it's safe to say."

"Mmhmm."

"It was a SURVIVAL STRAT????"

That baby reveal??? Had the country in SHAMBLES when they realized Peeta was lying. Her editors probably told her to just keep that out and she probably just said "why?? I have actual kids now, it's fine." The tabloids are blowing clear the fuck up all day every day. Peeta's hijacking??? People already knew but they didn't know EVERYTHING. God, those podcasts were LIT.

[thedensworld]

Black Card Issue | L. Jh

Genre: fluff, est. relationship, smut

Summary: after a fight, Jihoon didn't expect to receive notifications for a revenge. However, he's not complaining.

Note: having so much fun writing this with @hoshifighting please check lyla's blog here!

Welcome to the densworld woozi🧚‍♀️

Jihoon is a chill man. Very chill. He values his peace of mind so much that no one dares disturb him when he’s in the zone, writing music. His studio is his sanctuary, a place where time stops and the world outside becomes irrelevant. No one crosses that boundary. No one—until you came into his life.

A little bundle of surprise, Jihoon would say with a soft smile. You changed everything.

You love surprises. It’s something Jihoon figured out pretty early on, back when you were just dating. And now, after years together and tying the knot, he knows it’s not just something you like—it’s a part of you. You’re the kind of person who thrives on spontaneity. The joy in your eyes when you do something unexpected, whether it’s a small gift or a sudden change of plans, has become a familiar sight. Surprises are so integral to your personality that impulsivity became second nature to you, a habit you didn’t even realize you had.

And Jihoon? Well, he’s had to become well-trained in handling it.

It wasn’t always easy, especially in the beginning. Six months into dating, Jihoon was already struggling to keep his composure around you. You were a whirlwind of energy and unpredictability, and Jihoon was the type who liked things calm and structured—especially when it came to his work. But then you would send him something, like that photo on an ordinary Tuesday afternoon, just as he was about to attend a critical production meeting. A suggestive caption accompanying a picture of you that left him flushed and flustered.

He spent the rest of that day with his head spinning, barely able to focus on anything other than you.

His team noticed, of course. They always noticed when Jihoon was distracted—because it was rare. They’d been with him for over ten years, watching him pour his soul into his music, dedicated and unwavering. But you? It took you mere months to have Jihoon wrapped around your finger. And the best part? Jihoon willingly let it happen. He wanted to be wrapped around your finger.

And as much as his members teased him, he didn’t mind. Jihoon had always been the calm one, the focused one, the one who could drown out the world when he needed to. But with you, he didn’t want to drown out anything. He wanted to hear your laughter in the background while he worked. He wanted to receive those random photos in the middle of his meetings, even if they made him blush.

Now, Jihoon finds himself in his studio. Not the one at home, but the company studio. It was unusual—his fellow producers were surprised to see him there at this hour. 10 a.m.? That’s too early for Jihoon to be at work, they thought, especially since he rarely left the home studio after getting married.

“Did you two fight?” Soonyoung asked, making a quick stop before his schedule.

Jihoon didn’t answer. He simply turned the volume up, drowning out Soonyoung’s voice. Soonyoung scoffed but left, convinced that the only reason Jihoon would be at the company so early was if you two had fought. He knew Jihoon too well.

"Stop working for a while, man. Give your wife a rest," Soonyoung muttered as he left the studio. Jihoon cursed internally. How could Soonyoung read him so easily?

The truth was, last night didn’t go well. It was one of those nights Jihoon wished he could rewind—just take it all back. He came home late again, far too late. The kind of late where the house was eerily quiet, and the only light on was the one in the living room. He didn’t even realize how long he’d been working until he saw the notifications on his phone—your texts, your missed calls.

His heart sank. The guilt hit him immediately, but exhaustion numbed him from fully acknowledging it. He braced himself as he turned the knob, pushing the door open, hoping maybe you had gone to bed. But there you were, sitting on the couch, arms crossed, your phone lying idle beside you. You weren’t saying a word, but your silence screamed disappointment. And Jihoon knew—he’d screwed up again.

He paused at the doorway, waiting for you to say something, anything, but you didn’t. The air between you was suffocating, thick with unspoken words. He could feel your eyes on him, and it made his stomach twist. He hated it when you looked at him like that, like you were waiting for him to care enough to explain himself.

But instead of apologizing, instead of doing what he knew he should have done, Jihoon snapped.

"I work for you! I work hard to afford the life you want! Why don’t you understand?!" His voice rose, frustration dripping from every word. He didn’t mean it to come out that way. He didn’t mean to make it sound like you were the problem, like you were the one pushing him to the edge. But in that moment, he was too overwhelmed to control it.

The silence that followed was deafening. He saw the way your face fell, the way your shoulders slumped as if his words had physically weighed you down. You didn’t even argue back. You just stood there, absorbing the blow, your eyes wide and hurt, like you couldn’t believe the person you loved could say something so cruel. Jihoon could see it—the disappointment, the pain, the betrayal in your eyes.

He knew you weren’t with him for his money. He knew that from the start. You never cared about his fame, his success. You never asked for lavish gifts or expensive things. What you wanted—what you always asked for—was him. His time. His presence. But Jihoon, in his frantic rush to meet deadlines and exceed expectations, had forgotten.

He was so tired. The stress had piled up to the point that it felt like he was suffocating under the weight of everyone’s demands. His work was relentless, the pressure from his team to deliver perfection was unending, and somewhere along the way, he started feeling less like a person and more like a machine. And in all of that, he had forgotten you were the one person who treated him like a human being. The only person who reminded him to eat, to sleep, to rest.

But last night, Jihoon saw something in your eyes he never wanted to see again—pain. He had hurt you, and the worst part was, you didn’t deserve it.

You didn’t even say a word as you left the room, walking away with that shattered expression on your face. He stood there, frozen, wanting to chase after you, to take back everything he’d said, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t think straight. The weight of everything felt too much.

Jihoon ended up sleeping in his home studio that night, staring blankly at his laptop screen, his mind racing with regret. He didn’t get any work done. How could he? All he could think about was the way you looked at him, the way your lips trembled like you were fighting back tears, the way you didn’t even argue because you were too hurt to speak. He hated himself for it.

The guilt gnawed at him all night, so by the time morning came, he couldn’t bear to be in the same house. He thought if he went to the company studio, if he just got out, maybe it would clear his head. Maybe he could focus on work and forget how badly he had messed up.

But he couldn’t. You were all he could think about. Even surrounded by equipment and projects, even as he tried to drown himself in work, his thoughts kept drifting back to you. The regret kept replaying in his mind like a broken record, and the truth settled in his chest like a lead weight—he could never stop thinking about you. He never could.

And now, sitting alone in the company studio, he could still see your face in his mind, the hurt he had caused, and it tore him apart.

"Jihoon…" His manager knocked on the door, pulling Jihoon from his deep focus. He turned his head toward the reflection in the glass and saw someone entering. Quickly, he put down his headphones.

"The bank called me," his manager said, concern lacing his voice. "Someone's been making a lot of purchases with your account, and they couldn’t reach you. So, I got worried."

Jihoon blinked, realization dawning as he remembered he had turned off his phone earlier to avoid distractions. He hurriedly switched it back on, and as expected, notifications flooded his screen. Among them were a surprising number of texts from you.

Curious, Jihoon opened your messages, and his eyes widened. You had sent him a series of photos—shopping bags piled high, receipts for luxury items, and then… a car. You bought a car?

Jihoon sighed, rubbing his temples as he scrolled through the notifications of credit charges—clothes, electronics, and more. Why did you decide to buy all of this in one day?

"Everything’s fine. It’s just… my wife," Jihoon said, a little embarrassed as he reassured his manager. "No one’s using my card without permission."

His manager chuckled, seeming relieved, before leaving Jihoon alone with his thoughts.

Just as Jihoon exhaled, another text popped up. A photo of you in a jacuzzi, clearly in some luxurious hotel, wearing a brand new red bikini. The caption that followed made Jihoon’s breath hitch.

You: Want to give me the life I want? Come here. Turns out, spending your money doesn’t satisfy me enough.

Jihoon sighed deeply, his face growing warm as he hurriedly turned off everything in his studio. It was no use—he’d have to go get his black card back from you. Or maybe get something else.

*

You feel the dash of cold air hit your skin as you lay back against the heated tiles of the jacuzzi, legs lazily draped over the edge. You can’t help the little smirk pulling at your lips as you scroll through Jihoon’s texts. He’s gonna kill you. Well, maybe not kill, but he’ll definitely be pissed off. The shopping spree, the car, the photos—God, you knew exactly what you were doing. Pressing his buttons like that, getting him riled up on purpose, all because he had the audacity to shout at you last night.

But, you’re done with his bullshit excuses. He can whine about deadlines and stress all he wants, but you’re not here for that. You’re here for him, and clearly, he needs a little reminder.

The door to the hotel room opens, and even with the sound of the jacuzzi jets bubbling, you hear it. He’s here. Your heart skips a beat as the familiar, steady thud of Jihoon’s shoes echo in the space. He doesn’t say anything at first, but you can feel the burden of his stare on you, heavy and unrelenting. His presence is like a storm, silent but brewing.

You stretch your arms above your head, not even looking up, knowing full well he’s staring.

“Took you long enough,” You hum, voice saturated by fake innocence, like you hadn’t been the one who set the whole thing in motion. “figured you’d be quicker if i spent a little more of your money.”

Silence.

Then, the sound of him setting something down—his keys? maybe his bag? You don’t care. You hear the shuffle of his shoes being kicked off, and that’s when you finally open your eyes.

Jihoon stands at the edge of the jacuzzi, arms crossed, jaw tight, his eyes dreary and locked onto you.

“You’ve got some nerve,” he finally speaks, voice low, a growl almost. “what do you think you’re doing?”

You shrug, acting like you don’t feel the tension. “Just giving myself a little treat. After all, i am your wife. Don’t i deserve the best?”

Jihoon doesn’t say anything, just stares at you for a moment longer before his hands move to his belt. Your eyes widen, mouth parting slightly. “Oh, you think this is funny? You think you can just spend my money, send me those pictures, and i’ll come running?”

“Well, you did come running…” You mumble as if you were talking to yourself.

Jihoon moves, and before you know it, he’s crouched beside the jacuzzi, fingers hooking into the strap of your bikini top, pulling you closer to him with little resistance. “You know,” he murmurs, his voice rough, “this is the last thing you’ll be wearing tonight.”

Before you can even form a reply, he tugs at the fabric, and the red bikini snaps, tearing with a sharp rip.

Jihoon stands back up, the smirk on his face teasing you in a way that gets under your skin. His hand casually tosses the torn bikini top aside like it’s nothing, he looks at you, riling you up on purpose. He doesn’t rush; he takes his time pulling off his shirt, his pants.

You narrow your eyes, trying to keep the annoyance in check, but he’s pushing your buttons. “Really?” you ask. “You had to rip it off just to mess with me? You’re such an asshole”

“Yeah?” he murmurs, taking a step closer until he's right in front of you again. He leans down, pushing you back into the jacuzzi, the water sloshing as your back hits the edge. “You look mad, but I bet you’re dripping right now.”

You can even think of a response, his hand slips into your bikini bottoms just as he sits down. His fingers brush lightly over your clit, not applying pressure, just teasing, circling it slow just to watch you squirm. You twitch under his touch, your legs parting on instinct, hips bucking just slightly. He’s not giving you enough, and he knows it.

“You like to play these games, baby?” he murmurs. “Teasing me, spending all my money. What’s the real reason, huh? Just wanted my attention this bad?”

You bite back a moan, refusing to let him win so easily. “Shut up,” you manage to grit out, but the breathlessness in your voice betrays you. His thumb starts rubbing a little harder, making the bud throb on his thumb. You feel your body arching toward him, a needy moan escaping despite yourself.

“No...” he leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. “I wanna hear you say it. You knew I’d come running, right?”

His fingers press harder now, slipping lower, teasing your entrance without pushing in. Your hands grip the edge of the tub, eyes rolling back slightly as he continues torturing you.

“You’re so fucking annoying,” you hiss, your words catching in your throat as his fingers pick up the tempo. He’s still circling, still rubbing, but it’s not nearly enough. You need more, and he knows it.

“Oh, I’m annoying?” he growls softly, leaning his weight into you, fingers pressing harder, deeper, but still not giving you what you need. “What’s annoying is you buying cars and booking hotels like you don’t already have everything you want right here.”

Your legs spread wider, hips instinctively grinding down against Jihoon’s fingers as they tease your entrance. Your hand shoots up to grip his wrist, trying to gude his fingers in, but he stills the arm, cupping you. His other hand trails up your chest, stopping to toy with your nipples, flicking and squeezing them just enough to make you gasp. Then, wetting the valley of your breasts, his hand moves to your throat, wrapping around it in a firm grip, pushing your head back until it rests on the cold border of the jacuzzi.

“You’re so needy,” Jihoon mutters, watching as your mouth falls open, eyes half-lidded, breath coming out in shallow pants. You feel his thumb graze over your bottom lip, smirking as if he’s amused by just how desperate you’ve become. He hasn’t even given you what you want yet, but you’re already a mess for him.

Finally, his fingers push inside, just one at first, but the way your body responds—instantly clenching, your pussy practically swallowing his finger whole—makes him groan low in his throat. The water ripples around the two of you, splashing lightly against your skin as his movements grow rougher.

“God, you’re soaked,” he chuckles, voice almost mocking as his finger curls inside you, hitting that sweet spot making your hips jerk by their own. Even with the water swirling around, Jihoon can feel the heat between your thighs, the sticky slickness of your folds clinging to his fingers as he slides in another.

Your grip tightens on his wrist, trying to pull him closer, but he doesn't let up. Instead, his fingers work you harder, pumping in and out of you making the water splash with every push. The sound is obscene, the wet slaps of his fingers echoing in the room, blending with your suffered moans, and Jihoon's grunts.

You lift your gaze to him, lips parted, eyes pleading, practically begging for more. You look up at Jihoon with a needy expression that you know drives him crazy. But he just grins, slowing his movements slightly, his hand tightening around your throat.

“Aww, look at you,” he coos, voice soft despite the way his fingers are fucking into you hard, relentless. “Such a pretty little mess. You like this, don’t you? Me ruining you with just my fingers?”

You can’t form words, your head tilting back more as his pace quickens again, fingers curling deep, hitting the spongy spot that makes your vision blur. The water splashes harder now, droplets spilling over the edge of the tub as your hips buck in time with his thrusts. Your legs tremble, thighs shaking, and all you can manage is a soft whimper, your entire body arching toward him.

Jihoon chuckles again, watching you fall apart beneath him. “That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, fingers pumping in and out faster, thumb rubbing over your clit in quick circles. “You’re so fucking tight… taking it so well. What do you want, huh? You want more?”

Your breath catches in your throat, his words making your body ache. You nod frantically, too overwhelmed to say anything. The hand around your throat loosens slightly, giving you a moment to breathe, but he doesn’t stop. His fingers continue their brutal pace, fucking you deep, and you know he’s not stopping until you cum around his long fingers.

You feel your stomach flip when Jihoon curls his fingers and stills them, making your body arch off the jacuzzi edge as you instinctively reach for him, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling him down to kiss you.

The kiss is brutish, dirty—his lips smashing into yours, teeth clashing as his tongue slips into your mouth. He sucks your tongue hard, biting down on your bottom lip in that way that always makes your legs tremble. You can’t focus, the pleasure building too fast, making it impossible to keep up with the kiss. But you try, you desperately try, your hands clutching tighter in his hair.

It’s only a matter of seconds before your body betrays you. You moan into his mouth, the sound low and drawn out, muffled by the kiss. You pull him closer, your grip tightening painfully in his hair as the pleasure crests, your body trembling as your back arches impossibly high.

Your nipples graze his chest, the sensation of your sensitive skin brushing against his, makes him shiver, his breath hitching as your slick cunt clenches hard around his fingers.

Your moans become more frantic, desperate, and you can’t keep kissing him anymore. Your mouth falls open, head tilting back as you gasp for air, your body seizing up with the strength of your orgasm.

Your pussy tightens around his fingers, your thighs shaking uncontrollably as you cum, the water splashing violently around you from the press of your movements. Jihoon smirks down at you, clearly proud of himself, fingers still thrusting into you even as you come down from your high. “That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, voice soft but teasing. “Cum all over my fingers.”

Your mind is still swimming in the hangovers of your orgasm when Jihoon suddenly pulls his hand away. You’re left panting, trying to catch your breath, but he’s already manhandling you, turning you around and pressing you into the edge of the tub.

“Get on all fours,” he orders. You don’t hesitate, your body moving on autopilot as you shift into position, knees pressing into jacuzzi, hands bracing yourself against the edge.

Jihoon’s grip is firm as he presses you down, making sure you don’t slip on the slick surface. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you steady while he strokes himself behind you. You glance back, seeing him gripping his cock, pumping himself slowly, the tip flushed red and dripping with pre-cum, some veins popping up when he cuts the blood circulation. The sight makes your mouth water.

He lines himself up with you, the head of his cock teasing your wet pussy, but he doesn’t push in just yet. Instead, he grabs your bikini bottom—what’s left of it anyway—and yanks it harshly to the side, exposing your swollen, sensitive folds. You feel the fabric digging into your skin, tight and uncomfortable.

Jihoon watches, mesmerized, as your pussy clenches around nothing, your body still sensitive from your previous orgasm. Slowly Jihoon pushes inside. He takes his time, savoring the way your walls squeeze around him, they way you slick starts to coat him too, your body struggling to accommodate his size. You whimper, fingers clawing at the edge of the tub, trying to keep yourself stable as he fills you inch by inch.

He moans deep in his throat, the sound oscillating through his chest as he bottoms out, his cock buried fully inside you.

You bite your lip, arching your back even more, desperate to take him deeper. “Jihoon… please…”

But he just chuckles darkly, pulling out slowly, only to slam back in, making the water splash around you both again. “Oh, you’ll get what you want,” he promises. “Just keep taking it like that.”

His fingers tangle in your hair, tugging hard enough to make you gasp. The sharp pull has you arching back, your spine curving as he yanks you up against his chest, your back pressing flush against his front. The new angle makes his cock hit even deeper, your breath hitching as the tip grazes that swollen spot inside you.

Jihoon glances at the nearby mirror, his eyes glued to the reflection of your bodies. Your tits bounce with every thrust, soft and flushed, his eyes darken, watching the way your skin sticks to his, the way your body—though trembling—melts against him, sacrificing to the pleasure despite every nerve in your body wanting to tense up.

He moans suffered, his forehead dropping to your shoulder, feeling the warmness radiating off your skin. You’re burning up, both of you are, your bodies slick with sweat despite being submerged in water seconds after. Jihoon can’t help but bury his face against your neck, breathing you in, skin to skin, letting the sensation take over him.

“Fuck,” he mumbles against your shoulder, his lips brushing your skin, almost as if he's talking to himself. “I missed this. Missed you.”

His hips don’t stop, driving into you harder, your thighs shaking as you try to keep up, but your body is already on the edge. You’re clinging to him for dear life, your head falling back against his shoulder, mouth falling open as breathless moans slip out with every thrust.

“I’m sorry,” Jihoon suddenly murmurs, his voice softer now, tender. He keeps thrusting into you, but there’s an apology laced in every word, every snap of his hips. “I’m so fucking sorry… for everything.”

You don’t answer, can’t even if you wanted to. Your breath is caught in your throat, the only response you give is the way your body clings to his, melting further into his hold as his hands roam down your body.

He doesn’t expect you to answer. Maybe he doesn’t even need you to. He just keeps going, fucking into you like he’s trying to apologize through the way his body moves against yours. His grip loosens in your hair, his hand sliding down the curve of your waist, lower, until his fingers find the puffy bundle of nerves between your legs.

The second his fingers brush over your clit, your whole body tenses again, only to relax almost instantly as he starts rubbing teasing circles. You whimper, legs trembling, hardly competent to hold yourself up, and Jihoon groans into your skin, feeling the way you melt even more against him.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he breathes, his voice raspy in your ear. “Always take me so well… fuck… so tight, baby… you feel that? You’re clenching around me.”

You don’t say anything, just a soft gasp escapes your lips, your head falling back further onto his shoulder, exposing the column of your throat to him. His fingers quicken their pace, matching the rhythm of his thrusts, every brush of his thumb over your swollen clit making you cry out.

“I know I fucked up,” Jihoon whispers, his forehead still pressed to your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin. "But I can’t stop… I can’t stop thinking about you. About this. About how good you feel around me.”

Your chest heaves with each breath, your thighs trembling uncontrollably as his hand continues working you, his other arm wrapping around your waist to hold you tighter, anchoring you to him. His fingers press harder against your clit, drawing tight circles that make your whole body twitch, every nerve ending alive and buzzing.

“Come on, baby,” he coaxes, his voice dipping into that familiar, filthy tone, the one that drives you insane. “Cum for me… I know you’re close. I can feel it. You’re squeezing me so fucking tight.”

You’re so close, your vision blurring as the heat in your core builds higher. Your body’s completely given in to him, to the way he’s fucking you deep and hard while his fingers expertly play with your clit, not giving you a single moment of respite.

And then it hits, hard and fast. Your back arches, body tensing as the orgasm rips through you, ripple after ripple of pleasure crashing over you as your pussy clenches tight around him. Your hands reach back, desperately grabbing at anything—his hair, his arms—trying to ground yourself as you moan out his name, breathless and trembling.

Jihoon groans at the feeling, his cock throbbing inside you as your walls pulse around him. “Fuck… that’s it,” he rasps, his hand slowing its movements on your clit, letting you ride out your high. He’s still buried deep inside you, his cock twitching, and he watches in the mirror as your body shudders against his.

He doesn’t pull out. Instead, he shifts you forward, placing you on all fours again, his hands steadying you as he lines himself up once more. His hand slides down to your ass, pushing your bikini bottom further to the side so he can watch as your tight puffy walls flutter around him.

Without delay, he starts thrusting again, his pace slow but deep, watching as your body tenses, clenching around him every time he sinks in.

Jihoon lets out a series of the neediest, whiniest moans you've ever heard from him, and it hits you differently—vulnerable, like you’ve broken through every layer he keeps guarded.

Then he sinks in fully and stops.

You slouch forward, your whole body going limp as you brace yourself on your forearms. You feel him pressed against your back, the warmth of his skin sticking to yours as his breath hitches in your ear.

And then it fills you—heat as his cum spurts deep inside you. Hot, thick, and it has you crying out, your voice breaking as your body quakes beneath him. You can feel every pulse of his cock as he fills you up, making your insides feel impossibly full.

Your back trembles under his weight, every muscle in your body quivering as his release continues to flood you. Your pussy clenches around him involuntarily, trying to milk every last drop from him, and it only makes him groan louder.

“Shit,” Jihoon breathes, his voice a wrecked, breathy mess as he leans forward, his forehead pressing into the back of your neck. His hands grip your hips tightly, like he’s using you to anchor himself through the intensity of his orgasm. “Fuck… you feel s'good.”

Your head drops onto your forearm, unable to do anything but take it all in. You can feel his cum dripping out of you, a warm, slick sensation as it mixes with the water around your thighs. Your legs are shaking, your core aching, but you don’t want him to pull out, you want to stay like this, to feel him deep inside you just a little longer.

Jihoon’s breathing finally starts to slow, his body still pressed flush against yours as his arms snake around your waist, holding you tight. You hum softly in response, his cum continues to spill out, and you can feel every slow drip as your pussy flutters, trying to recover from the relentless pounding he just gave you.

He pulls back slightly, just enough to glance down at the sight of your trembling back. A soft smirk tugs at his lips as he watches how your body reacts to him, still sensitive, still on edge. “Look at you,” he whispers, his tone soft but teasing. “You’re still shaking. Did I fuck you that good?”

You don’t answer him; just let out a shaky breath. Your body is completely spent, and you can narrowly keep yourself upright. Jihoon chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to your damp skin before pulling out slowly, the loss of him leaving you feeling empty and aching. The last bit of his cum leaks out of you as he does, and he watches, fascinated, as it mixes with the water beneath you.

He moves to your side, pulling you into his chest, his hands rubbing gentle circles on your back as you both come down from the high.

Jihoon gently lifted you from the jacuzzi, his hands steady as he wrapped a robe around your body, drying you with care. His touch was soft, and the tension between you started to ease with each moment. He laid you down on the bed with tenderness, his eyes flickering with a mix of concern and regret.

As he stepped away to quickly clean himself up, you could feel the weight of his emotions lingering in the air. When he returned, Jihoon slid into bed beside you, pulling you into his arms, his warmth pressing against your skin. His embrace was tight but comforting, as though he was trying to hold on to more than just the moment.

"I'm sorry..." His voice was barely above a whisper, yet the sincerity in it was undeniable. He rested his forehead gently against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet space between you. "Please forgive me."

You could feel the vulnerability in his words, a side of Jihoon that he rarely showed.

You lay there in his arms, feeling the tension in his body slowly release as he held you close. His apology lingered in the air, filled with emotion you hadn’t heard from him before. For a moment, everything was quiet—the warmth of his skin, the sound of your breathing, and the beating of his heart against yours.

Jihoon pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of forgiveness. His brows furrowed, and he seemed almost afraid of what you might say. You reached up, your fingers brushing against his cheek, the familiar sensation calming you both.

“I know you didn’t mean to hurt me,” you whispered, the weight of the past argument starting to lift. “But it’s hard sometimes, Jihoon. You get so lost in your work…”

He nodded, the regret still heavy in his gaze. "I know. I promise I'll do better. I can't stand the thought of losing you, or pushing you away."

His words tugged at your heart, and you could see how much he meant it. There had always been that side of him—driven, focused, and dedicated—but sometimes it made him forget everything else. Still, here he was, trying, apologizing, and making the effort to put you first.

Without saying anything, you leaned in, closing the distance between you, your lips brushing his in a soft kiss. Jihoon sighed against your mouth, relief and gratitude flooding through him as he deepened the kiss, his arms tightening around you as though he couldn’t bear to let go.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads touched again, both of you breathing a little more steadily now.

“I forgive you,” you said softly. His eyes brightened at your words, and you felt the tension finally melt away completely. Jihoon smiled, a rare, gentle one that you didn’t see often enough, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Thank you,” he whispered, pulling you closer again, as though he couldn’t get enough of having you in his arms.

*

Jihoon sighed deeply as he glanced around your living room, cluttered with bags and boxes of things you'd bought earlier that day. His eyes scanned the array of items before he asked, half-jokingly, “Is it even possible to empty my bank account in a single day?”

You smiled, shaking your head as you tried to ease his worry. “Don’t stress. I can sell them all on the marketplace. They’ll be gone in two days, tops. I promise.”

Jihoon raised an eyebrow and picked up one item that particularly caught his attention—a pair of leopard-printed underwear for men. He held it up with a bemused expression, “Leopard print... for me?”

You grinned mischievously, “Yup! Oh, and I got you the hot pink one, too. Thought you’d look great in it.”

Jihoon groaned, his face a mix of amusement and disbelief. “You know it was a joke when everyone said i wear these kind of panties, right? There’s no way I’d ever wear these.”

You crossed your arms, stepping closer with a playful smirk on your face. “Oh, I can make you wear them,” you teased, your tone light but daring.

Jihoon chuckled, shaking his head at your persistence. “Is that a challenge?”

“Maybe,” you replied, your grin widening. “I have my ways. Just wait until you see how good you look in them.”

He rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at his lips. “You’re impossible.”

You stepped even closer, standing on your toes to whisper in his ear, “You’ll thank me later.”

Jihoon’s laughter filled the room as he pulled you into a hug, shaking his head. “You never give up, do you?”

“Never,” you said, wrapping your arms around him. "And trust me, you’ll look amazing in leopard print."

With a defeated sigh, Jihoon gave you one more playful glare, “Fine. But don’t think this means I’m wearing the hot pink ones too.”

“We’ll see about that,” you replied, your voice full of challenge and laughter as you leaned into his embrace.

[birrdies]

'SUNBLEACHED' (1.6k words) Our collaboration piece for the Flowers in the Desert zine! writing by me (birrdies) art by @fishbloc

Sunflowers. 

Over the flat, endless plain they stretch as far as Scar can see. Roots and leaves branch like veins and arteries through the soil on the verge of something alive. The sunflowers face the limitless blue above— no beginning or end— the stretch so vast that time itself feels as inconsequential as a marble rolling around in his hand. 

Scar doesn’t understand it.

One second his feet had been on the stone where Pearl had fallen, where lightning had struck with finality, and the next he’s up to his waist in sunflowers. Each golden petal stands on edge. As if they know something he doesn’t. He reaches out to touch one of these petals; they tickle the pads of his fingers. Shy, pretty things. 

It’s quiet here and Scar isn’t sure if it’s a silence he finds comforting or damning. He thinks he should be afraid, but how can he be? It’s warm here. The earth smells of freshly fallen rain beneath his feet, despite not a single cloud in the sky above. The fresh, dewey scent that soothes him, almost convinces him that this is a good place to be. 

“You’re here,” a voice says behind him.

There, enveloped by the countless sunflowers, is Grian. His hair is pale, sunbleached, and his cheeks are pink. Everything about him has been touched by the light in some way, down to the faded red poncho draping his shoulders and the speckling of freckles across his nose bridge. 

He’s drowning in it— this light. He’s made of it. And Scar’s eyes fall to find the sunflowers around him withering and decaying quickly. The yellow petals curl and desiccate into gray husks, breaking off their buds and fluttering to the ground. They’re dying. Not by lack of sunlight, Scar realizes, but by an excess of it. Burnt to a crisp. 

And like the sun, his skin blisters. The skin of his hands and the redness slathering them have no beginning or end. Gashes and swelling bruises and split knuckles. The blood never clots, a constant red drip falling from the fingers held limp at his sides. A quiet drip, drip, drip the only sound across the windless field. Not even so much as the sound of a breath. Just that blood.  “Grian,” Scar says. “I’m here.”

He doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know why Grian’s here either. But he’s grateful he is. Their nightmare— or, had it been a dream?— ended long ago, the desert gone and buried several games past. The Grian in front of him now isn’t the Grian he’d fought with moments ago. This Grian was younger. More afraid. More capable of burning. 

“Where… where is here, exactly?” Scar asks.

Grian curls those bleeding fingers into the nearest living sunflower. As if he’s unsure whether he wants to caress it or yank it from the ground, roots and all. His face is twisted, it’s always twisted when Scar’s around. But he yearns for the days when that twist had been of wicked delight, the way green-lit eyes exploded into starbursts at the sight of their mutual destruction. 

“You won,” Grian says simply, taking a sunflower by the stem and starting to pluck the petals. One by one. “Congratulations.”

Scar falters. A victory. A bolt of lightning striking the earth, the loud thud of a gavel. It’s over Scar, he hears, a constant echo in the back of his mind. You won. Grian’s anger burns. A second petal falls.  “You’re upset.” Scar will do anything to make it stop, to untie the knot tied between Grian’s eyebrows, to take those cracked, bleeding hands in his own and mend them until the skin is whole again. To take away the pain, the regret, the guilt. 

Grian never left the desert, no matter how much he wanted to. And Scar could never go back. No matter how often he wished he could.

“This is your dream, Scar.” Grian turns his face away. “It’s been a long time coming— a victory.”

“I don’t feel like I’ve won anything,” Scar says honestly. A victory implies the heavy yet welcome weight of a crown, the fleeting yet intoxicating rush of excitement. But all Scar feels is the emptiness in his chest, the air around his crownless head. Blood on his hands that he can’t see, but knows is there all the same. The same way it stains Grian’s. 

Grian plucks a third petal. He barks a cruel laugh, but it sounds more like he’s about to cry. “How do you think I felt?”  Scar frowns. “It’s still about the desert? After all this time?” 

Grian plucks another petal. Four. It flutters to the ground to join the others, yellow petals torn and crumpled, slowly turning gray. The edge of his mouth tugs into a knife-like smile.

“I’m sorry,” he says. It’s all he can manage, though he doesn’t mean it. Nothing can make him regret that day, knelt in a cool pond with the weight of a diamond blade against the junction of his neck. The hand he used to hold onto it, digging it into his own skin— asking for it. “You deserved to win.”

“I deserved this? To be alone?” Grian throws his arms out to the sides, to the endless curvature of sunflowers drowning the both of them. Nothing to shield them from the unrelenting sun above. “Because that’s what winning means. You’re alone, Scar.” 

Scar’s heart plummets into his stomach. “You’re here.” 

“Am I?” A fifth petal. “Or do you just want me to be?” 

Scar stares at Grian, uncaring if the scalding brightness gives him sunspots, or if the pain of looking at the spoils of his own choices burns him up from the inside. You won, Scar, his voice echoes again and again in Scar’s mind, a scratched record. His fists curl up at his sides, into the black cloak sewn with lilacs and poppies along the hem. 

Is that what this is? A cruel illusion to make him realize what it truly means to be the man at the edge of the world, to be the last man standing? If this is victory— Scar grits his teeth and twists his fists into his cloak— then he doesn’t want it. He’s never wanted it. It was never about winning, it was about— 

“About what, exactly?” Grian snaps, plucking the through straight from his mind just as he does with a sixth petal. “Is it about this? Sunflowers? You can’t hide behind them forever. Not here. Not from me. Not from yourself.” 

“Stop it.”

Grian’s in front of him now, bloodied hands shoving him by his shoulders. Scar stumbles back and barely keeps himself upright. This isn’t right. This isn’t Grian— not the one he knows, not the one he needs. 

“Why aren’t you angry, Scar?” Another push. “After everything that’s happened to you. All the people that have betrayed you. All the times I left you behind.”

Scar grapples for self control, to reign in the flash of anger burning the back of his throat. “What are you trying to prove?” 

“Stop lying. For once in your life, look me in the eye and tell me you’re angry.” Grian yanks a sunflower from the ground and shoves it, decaying leaves and all, against Scar’s chest. “Tell me these are just a sham.” 

It’s on the tip of his tongue: the truth. A terrifying, bitter thing that burns crawling up the back of his throat. Because it betrays everything he’s worked so hard to build, the masks he’s sported like second skins, the confidence which he flaunts like a shield. Without it, what does he have left? He’s stripped clean, Grier’s hands against his chest burning like sweltering charcoal. Sunflower petals slip between his fingers. 

He opens his mouth to let it up, to tell the truth, and then—

The sky above him changes. Only slightly. If he had blinked he would’ve missed it. But clear as day he sees them overhead: clouds. Slowly rolling across a blue sky.  And he’s on his back, blinking spots from his eyes as breath rushes into his lungs. The air tastes fresh, crisp, like seawater. Eyes fluttering, he tries to remember what he’d just been about to say.  “Scar?” 

Eclipsing the sun beating down on him overhead, a head peers down at him. Dark, wide eyes, a slanted mouth. A sporting of freckles across dusty cheeks. 

Something knotted unravels in Scar’s chest. “Grian.” Grian’s lips wobble into an uneasy smile. He wipes sweat from his brow, and Scar catches a glimpse of his hands: dirty, packed with mud, but bloodless. “Whatcha doing down there, pal?”  Scar’s arms lie limp at his sides. He’s not sure he could move even if he tried. If he wanted to. Something about this peace is fragile, uncertain. As if simply breathing the wrong way will make the world shatter in two and send him back to that place. One wrong move and he’ll be alone again. 

“Dunno,” Scar says breathlessly. Stalks of wheat tickle his arms as the wind kicks up, ghosting over his body. A sunflower stands over him, waving in the breeze. “Appreciating the view. Clouds. They’re nice.”

“Come on.” A hand reaches out to him. “Stop trampling my wheat.” Scar has to stare at it to remember that it’s not covered in blood. That it’s just dirt from a long day tending to wheat and sunflowers. That the Grian smiling down at him is the real one. Not the one made to torment him. 

Scar reaches for that hand, allowing their palms to slot together. Grian’s skin is callused and warm. He’s there. He’s real. Scar isn’t alone.

[katiefrog217]

Oh shit two uploads in one day whoda thunk In collaboration with @eviebane for their Fic Ensnared (Don't Let Me Go); (It's explicit warning!!! Mind the tags!)

The dress Crowley is wearing (both here and in the fic) are based on @mrghostrat's .... basically this is just a glorified way to mess with Bilv -giggles The lighting got away from me here, don't question it.

Tattoo yoinked from GhostRat: Here

[cellythefloshie]

;; The Shallow End Chapter Four of Cool for the Summer

Table of Contents Chapter Three «« 🤍 »» Chapter Five

Summary: Harper spends her weekend by the pool. TW: No triggers apply. Word Count: 4k+

This series to be read in conjecture with @hockeyboysimagines I Loved You Three Summers.

The car at the end of the driveway turned wasn't one she recognized, and it left her blood to run cold. It had her foot hovering between the gas and the brake, unsure if she should pull into the driveway or drive to the nearby park and call her dad. Any other day, Harper wouldn't have been worried, but she had spent the half of morning speaking with officers from the domestic violence unit regarding harassing text messages she had been receiving from Darren. And the other half she had spent at the mall changing her cell phone provider and number. 

Was it Darren's car? No. Was it above him to get his friend to drive him to her place once he realized his messages were no longer being delivered? Also no.

Her nerves left her hands sweaty as they gripped at the steering wheel, her toe easing closer to the gas pedal, ready to speed off until she saw a familiar face leave the front door of the Jarvis home. 

Harper let out a sigh of relief, yet her heart continued to pound too hard in her chest at the sight of him, Andrei. Her hand slipped down to the horn, honking it twice to get his attention before she reached her hand out the window to wave at him. She needed to make sure he saw her, and he did. Andrei's face lit up as he looked up from his phone, a protein bar hanging from between his teeth. He bit down on it so hard it fell to the ground, but he didn't seem to mind. Andrei looked excited to see her, and in a way, Harper was excited to see him, too. 

Pulling into the driveway, Harper didn't even think to look at the unfamiliar car. She wouldn't let her mind register the make, the model, or even the color. And she refused to look at the driver, fearful that it would be her ex that was looking back at her. So she fixated on Andrei, and only Andrei. 

He was wearing a black baseball cap turned backwards, sending his slicked back hair to hang down the back of his neck. It kept it out of his face, showing the definition of his jaw more noticeable as his lips pulled back into a toothy grin. It was one so wide Harper noticed that one of his teeth was missing, one she hadn’t cared enough to notice before. Then there were his eyes, the deep warm brown that brought her a certain semblance of comfort as she got out of her jeep, grabbed her bag and moved to stand with him in the middle of the driveway that he was walking down right towards her. 

“What are you up to today?” Harper didn’t know why she asked Andrei that. She wasn’t really all that interested in what he was going to do, and she had no intention of inserting herself into his day beyond the interaction there in the middle of her front lawn. But she’s friendly, pleasant, as if they were long friends rather than practically strangers. 

“Training,” Andrei’s quick and simple answer was jarring, and sent Harper’s neck snapping to look at the car that was parked by the curb as he nodded towards it. 

It was only then she let herself look at who the driver was: a man who looked so much like Andrei, albeit a little older, his hair slightly redder and his front tooth so obviously missing as he smiled at them both and offered her a subtle, casual wave. 

A wave of heat washed over Harper’s face, her jaw slacking in the embarrassment of her overreaction. She should have known better. Not that she knew Andrei had a brother. She just should have known he and Seth wouldn't be cooped up in the house all summer. Seth liked to party, she should have assumed Andrei would join him for a wild night at the Howden house or one of the bars Harper herself hadn't frequented since her early twenties. And she shouldn't have forgotten about training. Of course they would be training. When you played hockey it took over your life. She had watched it all happen first hand with Seth after all.

“You?” Andrei countered, stepping in slightly, his head cocking to the side as he looked down at her. 

“Just finished up errands,” Harper sighed, holding up a single shopping bag like the smallest, lamest trophy. “I know, very exciting. Are you coming back later?” 

Harper bit down on her lip. Hard. She didn't know why she asked that. 

“Yeah,” He nodded, taking a stride towards his brother's car, turning slightly so that he was still facing her, “I'll see you later.”

“Yeah, see you later,” she took a step back as she spoke. Then her hand raised up to give Andrei and his brother a wave before she, and her embarrassment, went inside. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Droplets of sweat spilled down over the angle of Andrei's brow as he stood hunched over after a heavy circuit that ended in a sprint. It had been a race of sorts, Evgeny coming to a still beside him as he reached what was their finish line. His brother halted and hunched over just as he had, and offered a large, toothy grin. Andrei cocked his head in return, sweat dripping down his nose and down over his lip. His tongue darted out, licking it away quickly, and tasting its salt. Then he smiled, a hand reaching out to shove at Evgeny playfully as he jested; 

“Old man.”

Evgeny shoved him back, a low laugh shared between them as they walked off the course and towards their water. 

“Winnipeg,” Andrei sighed after a moment once he had caught his breath. “You going to stay?”

His brother shrugged, his head tilting back as he squeezed the bright green Gatorade bottle and flooded his mouth with water. Evgeny's contract was up, Winnipeg his home for only a mere season and as a free agent, he could end up anywhere. That was, unless he fought to stay. 

“It's not all that bad, yes?” Andrei questioned his brother as he ran the back of his hand over the sweat on his brow. 

He could practically feel the rumble of Evgeny’s laugh as he shook his head slowly, “You say that because of the girl. The pretty one.” 

Andrei looked away. His hand ran along the angle of jaw in an attempt at being coy, but his boyish smile betrayed him. 

“When the summer is over, you will go back to Raleigh, back to hockey,” Evgeni reminded him, “and she will stay here. You will need to be ready, and she is a distraction.” 

Andrei did what he always did when his big brother had some advice to offer. He listened, even if he didn't like what he was hearing. In some ways, Evgeny was right. He was only going to be in Winnipeg for a short time, and he chose Winnipeg to train. To train with Seth and his brother so he would be ready for the next season. To chase a cup and avoid injury. But Harper, she wasn't a distraction, not in his mind, anyway. What she was, though, he didn't exactly know, but he wanted to find out. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

A single finger trailed over the bottom of the bowl, where nothing but salt seemed to remain. She traced the bottom in a blind search of one last chip as she held her new phone in the other hand, casually settling up a new background and lock screen with the touch of her thumb. Harper swung her leg off the bar stool of the kitchen counter lazily, her finger leaving the bowl as she accepted defeat and brought it to her lips to suck it clean, only to perk up as she heard the click of the front door. Someone was home. 

Looking up from the phone wallpaper she hadn’t decided if she loved or hated yet, she watched as Maddie made her way inside with her arms full of groceries. Carefully, Harper put her phone down on the counter - she would be extremely careful with it until it’s first big drop that would either leave her reckless or with a broken phone screen, and she moved to take a bag from her sister's arms, but Maddie had yet to meet her gaze. 

Something happened. 

“You didn't hit another car in the parking lot, did you?” Harper teased, doing her best to keep her tone jovial just in case she was right. 

Maddie shook her head, her gaze rising to meet her own as she cleared her throat. “I ran into Darren while I was at the store, I was just grabbing,” a sigh interrupted her words, “nevermind, when he approached me, he acted like he happened to be there at the same time, which was fine, until he started looking around, waiting, as if you were just going to walk up to us right there in the store. And when you didn’t, he got really…” 

Harper placed the grocery bag down onto the counter, her hands dropping to her sides and flexing into fists as her sister tried to find just the right word to say. 

“Angry. He started asking where you were, how he could contact you. If I could give him a message-” 

The strain in Madison’s voice leaves Harper’s stomach heavy with the threat of puking. Darren crossed a line by approaching her sister. She knew it; he knew it too. She cut off all contact with him, and what better way to draw her attention back to him, then to confront her baby sister. It left a foul taste in her mouth. Harper didn’t know how to react. She wanted to scream, to laugh, and to cry. Yet, all she could manage was an empty stare just to the right of her sister, where there was a blank space on the wall. She fixated on it as she let out a heavy sigh that rocked her shoulders and carded a hand through her hair.

“He knows where I am,” she sighed. “He’s just too scared to come here.”

Harper’s eyes found her sister again, her lips coming to mimic her sister’s smile as they both spoke one word: “Dad.”

“Exactly, I can be safe here-” Harper bit down on her tongue, regret flooded her the moment she said what she did. She could see a flicker of worry in her sister’s eyes. “Hey,” Harper spoke, her confidence returning as she reached out for her sister’s arm and held it carefully, “he never hurt me. Not in the way you think. And he didn’t hurt you, right?”

“I would have cut his hand off if he had touched me,” Maddie was quick to counter, her words putting Harper at ease enough to manage a laugh. 

Then Harper drew Maddie in, her arms wrapping around her into a tight embrace. The last thing she wanted was for Maddie to feel unsafe, and she couldn't help but feel heavy with guilt that she put her in the position she did. She didn't know if Maddie needed the hug, that she felt that same rush of her heart deep in her chest at the very prospect of having to deal with Darren, but Harper knew she needed the hug. 

She held her tight, her eyes shutting briefly before her arms fell away from her little sister. 

“You still going out with your friends?” Harper asked. 

Maddie nodded, and Harper stepped back to turn her attention back to the groceries Maddie had brought in. 

“Good, you go get ready. I'll put the groceries away. Before you go, my new number is on the fridge and if you need me and I'm not here, I'll be by the pool.” 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The sun was still hot even in the early hours of the evening when there was a calm between the bustle of the day and what would be dinner time. It beat down on Andrei, his body still hot and sticky with sweat from his workout as he pulled his bag from the backseat of his brother's car and sent him off with a wave. They would see each other again tomorrow for an on ice session, but until then, Andrei needed three things. A shower, a beer, and to relax. 

He walked along the driveway with his head down, dark eyes fixated on the weeds that grew between each crack and framed the concrete where it met the grass that was threatening to pale from the heat, from the drought that took the Canadian Prairies leaving Andrei hotter than he was at the gym. He felt the sweat drip down his back and soak into his shirt as he approached the house, as he tried to avoid looking next door. The possibility of Harper being a distraction from his training, from his career, still weighed heavily on his mind. Andrei had to consider that Evgeni could be right. 

Even with how excited Harper seemed to be when he saw him earlier that day, he didn’t dare look toward her home. That was until he heard the whiz of the water hose come to life. His head couldn’t have turned any more quickly towards the front garden of the home where a man he hadn’t seen before knelt in the dirt, with his sleeves rolled up as he worked in the garden. 

Andrei’s steps hesitated, his foot slipping over the edge of the driveway clumsily. His skin burned hotter and redder than the sun could ever make it. He hoped the man hadn’t noticed. But the half glance and low grumble of a chuckle told Andrei that he had. 

“Which one are you looking for, Harper or Maddie?” he asked him. 

Andrei stiffened, his hand flexing around the strap of his duffle bag as it hung off his shoulder. This had to be their father. Seth had spoken fondly of him, as had his parents. And if Andrei wanted to get to know Harper more, he needed to make a good impression. But that seemed at a loss already, as he had already stumbled onto the man’s lawn. Literally. 

“Harper, Sir.”

He didn’t even look back at him as he spoke, his hands still working steadily in the garden. “She's out back by the pool. If she tries to fight you on it, tell her I told you that you and Seth were welcome to it.” 

“Thank you, sir,” Andrei smiled.

Andrei cut across the law and entered the Jarvis' home through the front door. His duffle bag slipped from his shoulder in the entryway, coming to rest on a cluttered bench among Seth and his brother’s equipment. Andrei smiled to himself. He had made himself right at home among the Jarvis siblings, and Seth’s parents had treated him the same. Which made him feel all the more comfortable as he moved through the home. He felt more like family than a guest. 

His first pit stop was the fridge, where he grasped two beers by the bottleneck in one fist. Then he followed the narrow hallways to the guest room that would be his home for the remainder of the summer. He had yet to unpack more than his training gear, so he dug through his suitcase with one hand until he pulled out his pair of swim trunks. The bottles clamored on the bed as he put them down, his free hand feeling his sweat drenched shirt from his back and tossing it aside before he pushed his shorts and boxers down his legs. They stayed in a heap on the floor as he stepped into his trunks. When he secured them low on his hips, Andrei snatched the bottles up again and backtracked towards the front door. 

He was stepping out the door when his head shook slightly. He should be inviting Seth. It would be weird to go without him. So he shouted, “Going for a swim next door!”

Andrei only knew Seth heard him because he heard a clamor from Seth’s room upstairs, but he didn’t stick around long enough to know if Seth was going to join him. The feeling of grass between his toes greeted him as the screen door rattled into place behind him. He walked across the front lawn with quick strides that carried him to the gate of the Alexander residence backyard. 

He entered slowly, cautiously, not wanting to startle Harper wherever she might be in the sprawling backyard. Andrei paused just inside the gate, looking along the bright green lawn and the patio outside the backdoor. Harper was nowhere to be seen. She wasn’t in the pool either, the clear water all the more inviting as he moved to walk along the pool’s edge. It was there, his gaze following the water from one end of the pool to the other, that he spotted her curled up on one of the sun chairs. Her lean body stretched out over the chair, one leg bent while the other hung off the end at the ankle. There was no stopping her eyes from tracing up the length of her leg up to the distressed denim shorts that were left unbuttoned around her waist where her bikini bottoms played peekaboo. His breath hitched as his eyes continued to travel up. Up over the plains of her stomach that were bare, strong and lean and to the swells of her breasts as the hold of her floral bikini supported them. It was colorful and left him staring far too long at her cleavage. Which he regretted the instant his eyes found her face. 

She looked tired - no, sad, her cheeks glistening with the wetness of tears as she looked away from him. Harper brought up a single hand, running the back of it over her brow before she ran it over his cheeks and chin as if she was wiping the sweat of the heat from her skin instead of her tears. His stomach sank. Whatever she was feeling, Harper was trying to hide it and he only hoped he could make it better with ah… a bottle of beer. 

He approached her slowly, his smile small and soft as he extended an arm out, offering her the cold bottle that had already begun to condense beneath the heat of the sun. 

“Are you even old enough to drink that?” Harper asked, her hand reaching out to wrap around the neck of the bottle. 

Andrei let it slip into her grasp, his smile spreading as he let his head shake. He didn't understand her constant need to remind him of just how young he was. Maybe he would get tired of it in time, but at that moment, it humored him. So he played into it. 

“Here I am.”

Andrei watched as Harper leaned her head back against the headrest of her chair. Her blonde hair splayed out against the surface, other strands spilled over the side. Her body stretched out, her hand with the beer dropping down so low it almost brushed the ground, while the other raised to rest over her face as she muttered just loud enough for him to hear, “You're a literal child.”

She punctuated her words with a long sip of her beer. It was then, when her mouth was full, that he pretended he hadn't heard her. 

“What was that?” 

Her gaze rose up as her lips pursed. She couldn't tell if Harper was trying not to smile, laugh, choke, or maybe all three at once. But she managed to swallow, and her face softened with a smile. “Thank you.”

“That's what I thought.” Andrei's words were a pleasant hum as he brought the cold lip of the beer bottle to his mouth. The chill refreshed him, and it tasted just as good as the satisfaction he felt. But Harper didn't seem to feel the same. 

She slumped low in her chair as she nursed from her beer bottle. Her gaze didn't rise to meet his, and she didn't even seem to notice how he stood there in nothing but his swim trunks. Any other woman would have been staring. It was a cocky thing to think, but it was true and had been true or as long as he could remember. He was fit and sculpted in how all women seemed to like, but Harper she didn’t treat him like other women did. She didn’t fawn. She didn’t stare. Nor did she act like he was god's gift to hockey. Sometimes, she treated him like a mosquito, a relentless pest that couldn’t quite catch the hint that she didn't want it around. Mostly, she treated him as if he was just a normal, average guy. 

He liked that. 

Sipping his beer, Andrei contemplated sitting back in the lounge chair beside her. But then his curiosity would get the best of him. He would ask her something stupid, like if she was okay. A question he was sure she would answer or want to talk about. Especially with him. So he would be all he could be for her. A distraction. 

“You swim?” He asked slowly, drawing her attention back to him. 

“It’s my pool,” she spoke pointedly, sending a hum of laughter through him. 

Right. 

Beer still in hand, Andrei carefully took the short ladder into the shallow end of the pool. He lingered there, the water up to his hips as he leaned up against the side of the pool. He stayed there, hoping some sort of conversation would blossom between sips of cold, refreshing beer. But the silence hung, leaving his chest tight and his grip on his beer tighter as his mind raced as he tried to think of something, anything, to say. But he only found a single word, “wow,” as Harper placed her beer bottle down on the ground with a hollow clink and stood up. Harper shimmied out of her shorts before reaching her hands up to knot her hair at the top of her head. 

The sight of her left his tongue feeling swollen in his mouth as she climbed down the same ladder he had just moments before. Her body disappearing beneath the water and distorting beneath the ripples. She was submerged from the neck down in the shallow end; her back pressed against the side of the pool beside the ladder, but just out of his reach. But she was in there, with him, and there was no stopping the large smile that grew over his features at the sight of it all. Andrei smiled so wide it hurt, and it didn’t go unnoticed. 

“What?” Harper cocked her head as she spoke, the corner of her lips curling up into a soft smile. 

“You’re complicated,” he answered slowly, and she just stared. Almost as if she doesn’t know what to say. “I think you don’t want anything to do with me, then you smile.”

Harper looked away, as if she could hide what had already been seen. It was a coy sweetness she had, maybe even a little of embarrassment if he looked hard enough. But why? What about him was so bad that she didn’t want him to make him smile? 

Andrei reached a single arm out, placing his near empty beer bottle down to rest outside of the pool. Then, with his hands free, he sank down to her level in the water and with two careful strokes; he was right in front of her.

The mere proximity of Harper sent Andrei’s stomach into his throat. One wrong move and their bodies would collide. 

“I like when you smile,” he told her, his words drawing her gaze back to him, as if she were startled by just how close he had gotten to her in the pool. Her full, pouted lips seemed to fall apart, the ghost of words on her lips as she couldn’t find the words to say. Or maybe there was nothing to be said. They could just simply be-

A wave of cold water hit Andrei quickly and hard. He felt the wave before he could hear the splash that rippled through the swimming pool. It left the taste of chlorine in his mouth, and his hair stuck to the back of his neck. Which all didn’t bother him, not really. It was refreshing after a long day at the gym. What bothered him was that with the hurricane that was Seth who cannon balled into the deep end, his alone time Harper was over. 

Andrei wasn’t the only casualty of the storm warning. Harper’s face was peppered with droplets of water. Her once dry bikini top was heavy with water, and her nose was wrinkled with her pursed smile. Eye narrowing, and body colliding with Andrei’s for a mere moment that left him holding his breath, she pushed against the resistance of the water and sent a splash back at Seth, who had surfaced with his dark black hair hanging down into his face. 

“You haven’t grown up one bit, have you?” she laughed at him. 

“Not one bit. It’s worse now, really. Because now I can drink too-”

“Grown up enough to be good to my sister?” Harper challenged him with a sense of seriousness that even had Andrei feeling as if he needed to retreat. Her head cocked, her messy hair falling into her face as she and Seth exchanged a look. Both seemed surprised, as if they each knew something they didn’t know the other would know - and Andrei did retreat. He swam to the poolside and took a long sip of his beer as he watched what could be peace or chaos unfold. 

“Ah, yeah,” Seth spoke slowly, his dark eyes darting over to Andrei as if he were going to help him if Harper decided he didn’t like what was being said, “Always the best for Mads.”

“You know I’ll hear if you treat her otherwise,” Andrei didn’t know if Harper’s words were teasing or a caution as she turned her back to Seth and began to wade towards the ladder of the pool. She was getting out. 

“Best behavior, Harper,” Seth grinned as he lay back in the water and simply floated. 

“Good, you two have fun,” the water crested around her ankles as she climbed up the ladder and out of the pool, “towels are in the sun room if you need.”

She didn’t stop to dry off. Harper only gathered her things from where she left them in a pile on her chair and left a wet trail of footprints that lead to the back door. Andrei watched her until she disappeared behind the sliding glass door. It was only then he let out the groan that he kept contained in the depth of his chest as he sunk down into the water to float, just as Seth had. 

It was there with the water lapping into his ears that he heard Seth mutter, “shit, my bad,” as he realized just what he had interrupted. 

Taglist: @starshine-hockey-girl @wingedwheelprxncess @mp0625 @misunderstoodwerewolf @callsign-denmark @puckmaidens @xciciix @cixrosie

[cuepickle]

Here’s my piece to go along with @discodeviant’s fic for this year’s @bigbangharringrove

The fic is beautiful and angsty and absolutely captured my heart. If you’d like to read the fic (which I implore you to do right now‼️) head over to ao3:

⭐️ Highway star ⭐️

[lightspringrain]

"Return From Darkness" chapter 4 panels created by the lovely @collophora . We worked super hard on chapter 4 and chapter 5 panels! Collophora was kind enough to let me collaborate with her and paint the lighting for some of them. Hopefully my lighting skills are worthy of her amazing lineart. Much <3

(I was supposed to blur Phee's face but I didn't want to mess with the line work. So I kept it intact.)

[otrtbs]

anyway if a tumblr post of mine ever inspires any of yall to write anything for fandom i think that’s rad and really cool and you should 100% write it + link me to it !!

[clalog]

Friendly Collaboration Serie Masterlist

Paring: hokeyplayer!sunghoon × onlyfans!reader

Genre: social media!au; academical rivals; smut

Worming: onlyfans creator; smut (mdni please); swearing; probably grammar mistakes (not English speaker/dyslexic)

Synopsis: Sunghoon get obsessed with a onlyfans creator he casually find on a stressed day and he truly believes he is in love with her even if he never see her face. He doesn't know that behind the screen is his university rival and he doesn't know what kind of deal they'll make.

Room 245 | Boys profile | Room 134

Intro

Pt.1 ✒️

Pt.2

Pt.3

Pt.4

Pt.5

Pt.6 ✒️

Pt.7

Pt.8 ✒️

Pt.9

Pt.10

Pt.11 ✒️

Pt.12

Pt.13: Soon

⚠️This is a work of fiction, every reference of character sexuality or personality are from the mind of the author for plot purposes and DO NOT describe the real life person

⚠️Everything on this fiction is from the mind of the author, the stolen of the story or parts of it is punishable by law

All banners made by @cafekitsune

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