#it was BORDERLINE SWEATER WEATHER

[ciderjacks]

WHY IS IT SUDDENLY FUCKING SUMMER FUCKINNNNNNGGGFFFFFFF. KILLYOURSELFFFFFFFFFFF PNW WEATHER. DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE

[kirans-wonderland]

What a Cuddly Croc pt.2 (nsfw)

pt. 1 here

mdni. (au where night raven is actually college aged)

wc: 1,926 - cw: gender neutral reader, biting, cuddlefucking, cockwarming?, dry humping, mating behaviors? (not proofread yet)

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Night Raven College was still enveloped by the cold weather of the winter. Sebek had only grown clingier as the days grew colder. It was as if the first night you cuddled him had shattered his barriers like they were delicate glass. He subtly invited you over to Diasomnia almost every night saying that you were the only thing that kept him warm enough. Despite being borderline desperate, he had never ventured to Ramshakle during the cold nights. He couldn't leave Malleus in possible danger. That outweighed his desire for warmth.

That was until one night, you didn't show up. He had invited you. You said you would come. So where were you? He gave you 15 minutes before he was on his way to Ramshakle. Something was different tonight. Malleus be damned. His steps were quick and heavy. He feared the worst. But what he found was simple and relived his tension. You had simply fallen asleep at your desk, your cheek pressed against the text of the book. His heartrate slowly lowered as he took in the sight. "How foolish.. if you are tired, go to your bed" He muttered. Why had he gotten so worried? You weren't his lord. He shook off those thoughts with great haste. He was going to just move you to your bed, but his eyes caught the stack of extra blankets that lay at the foot of her bed. He was drawn to them and before he knew it, he was placing them all on your bed.

The blankets were all different styles and patterns. One he recognized as the Diasomnia dorm blanket. Had someone from every dorm given you an extra blanket? Why did that make his heart tighten? He had arranged all of the blankets very carefully... almost like a nest. He thought he was done and that it was perfect. Then his gaze landed on a pile of your shirts and sweaters near your wardrobe. He remembered you telling him about how the bar in your wardrobe broke and you couldn't hang anything up anymore. He needed them. He had never spent so much time just preparing to cuddle. Something was different tonight.

Finally he had completed his nest. Blankets, clothes, your scent, Grim.... Grim. He was in the way. Sebek scooped him up to move him to a nearby chair. Though Sebek wasn't gentle, Grim remained asleep. Only the smell of a tuna can could wake him. Sebek then moved over to your desk chair and picked you up with the highest gentility. He looked down at your peaceful sleeping face that had fallen against his chest. Another pang of tightness struck his heart. First he laid you gently in the mass of blankets, on your side. He laid down behind you and pulled your warm body to his. His form curling around yours was what started to bring you back to conciousness.

He heard your soft murmmers and knew he had woken you. "It's just me" He whispered so you wouldn't panic. He heard the small smile in your voice as you responded to him. "mmm... Seb.. m'sorry.. I must have fallen-" "Shh, it's alright. I.. I was not worried" He lied. He was a bit embarassed at how worried he had been.. About a mere human. "It's.. warmer than normal" Your mumbles got more coherent as you woke up. You saw the blankets and the clothes surrounding the two of you. It reminded you of.. "You made a nest?" Sebek's grip tightened a little at your words. "It is colder tonight". You hummed in response as it seemed logical, so you went on cuddling in a comfortable silence.

Normally he would remain completely still with a firm grip when you cuddled, but that wasn't the case tonight. It started with his hand rubbing your side and back slowly. Then it progressed into his nose rubbing against the nape of your neck. His breathing was heavy and you could swear he was letting out soft growls with every exhale. "Sebek?' That was all you needed to say before he pulled you tighter to his body. "I do not know.. I do not know what is happening.. I need you closer. Closer than this" Even though you were already flush to him, he still needed you closer. “Why do I need you… I need you” You turned your head to look at him as he lay behind you. His breathing was labored, his lips were slightly parted and his eyes seemed to glow in the pale moonlight. You’d never seen him like this. You were worried. “Sebek-“ You tried to sit up but his grip tightened like he was holding you down. “No. Do not leave me. Do not move.” His fingers lightly dug into your body and his face buried firmly in the crook of your neck. You could only lay there, trapped and thinking about what was happening. What was wrong? Then something struck you. Something Jack had explained to you a while ago after he had been absent. It lined up.. “Sebek? … do faes go into heats like beastmen do?” You asked tentatively.

His nuzzling stopped and he stilled again. It was a long silence. "Yes.. most do.. but, I am.. because I am.." He thought that this shouldn't be a thing for him due to his partial fae heritage. "I should not be.." He went quiet in his thoughts. "Seb, all these blankets.. you're basically nesting" He grunted. "No. No it is just for warmth" He was trying to convince himself. He was conflicted. If he had all these behaviors, why were they only surfacing now? Was it because he had been to busy before? Now, he had let himself get distracted and allowed someone into his life with a sliver of intimacy. That had awakened his need. His now overwhelming need for carnal closeness. "It may be, that you are.. correct" He said slowly. "I need... I need you" You could hear the desperate rasp in his tone.

You pressed yourself further back against his body, giving him permission. Almost instantly his hips began into you again and again from behind slowly. He groans and grunts into the back of your neck with every movement. His arms were tight around your torso. It was oddly comforting, being surrounded by soft blankets and the warmth of his firm body. You heard his breathing grow heavier and sharper as his humping grew quicker. "Not enough.. not enough.. I need more... more" You felt him shifting behind you and heard the clinking of his belt. His hands went to your hips and squeezed then firmly before slipping down your bottoms. His fingers and nails ran along the skin of your thighs and ass. He pulled your hips flush with his. You could feel his already hard cock slip between the plush of your buttcheeks. He groaned in bliss at the sensation of your soft, warm skin around his aching length. It was all he could think and care about.

He had accepted it now. He was in a heat and it was your fault. You were the reason he felt so.. weak. "Your fault.. you have to.. fix it" Sebek grumbled out through grunts. His teeth grazed along the skin of your shoulders and neck. The slight sharpness of his canines caused you to shiver. At the same time his teeth finally clamped down on the crook of your neck, he pushed into your hole. His first thrusts were deep and slow. His body was practically trembling as he held you desperately tight. His hand left your waist and his arm hooked under your thigh. Lifting it, he placed it over his own legs. That shift in position caused him to slip in deeper. His hips stuttered as your own shifted against his. "Sebek.. oh gods.. Sebek.." He growled in response to your moan. "Just, stay.. please.. I need it.."

He began to thrust again. Though his thrusts weren't fast, they were hard and deep. But he also couldn't keep a steady rythm. It was his desperation mixed with his inexpierence. Your hand reached back and found his hair. One of his arms was around your chest while the other couldn't stay still. He gripped your thigh, hip, waist, arms, everywhere. He was lost in you, lost completely in the feeling and warmth. Right now, there was no way he would have known it was winter. For the first time in the season he was hot. He was quickly getting addicted to this and to you.

He let out a deeper growl and you found yourself suddenly lifted on top of him. Your back was laid against his chest, your legs spread over his with his dick still inside you. Your head laid by his and you looked into his green eyes. His pupils looked more reptilian than they ever had. Both of you were breathing heavily. Your hand touched his cheek and it seemed to uncloud his lustful mind. "I.. I do not know. why I am feeling this way.." His eyes were locked onto yours, his hands on your stomach but he didn't move. It became comfortable to just lay like that with him inside you. "Like what Seb?' "Like I do not want to let you go.. I feel about you the same way i feel about Malleus but... ill. I wish to protect you but I feel I cannot breathe and my heart races. I feel weak, but I cannot be weak and protect you. I-" You finally quieted him from his rant. "Sebek, it sounds to me that you have feelings for me.. the romantic kind"

This made him freeze. He was always so dedicated to his duties, could he have really let himself fall in love? "I mean, you at least like me enough to try and.. mate with me." You continued. "What?" You chuckled at his confusion despite the intimate position he had you in. "Isn't heat like a mating season? You having the desire to be intimate with me should be an indication of your feelings." He thought about what you said for a moment before his mind clouded with desire again. His hands once again gripped your hips tightly. You knew there would most likely be bruises there the next morning in the shape of his finger pads.

You couldn't find space in your mind to care as he lifted your hips and slammed them down on his cock repeatedly. You didn't think that anything could feels this deep. The sound was stolen from your throat as he bit your neck again while continuing to bounce you on his length. Your orgasm washed over you with a searing heat. The feeling of your warmth pulsing around him and your hand gripping his arm caused him to spiral. With a growl, he lifted you off of him before cumming on his lower stomach. It was surprising that in his desperation he had enough of a mind to pull out. You look out the panting and stunned man with a soft smile. He opened his eyes and his eyes locked with yours. He could read the look in your eyes like a book. "I may be carnal, but I am not stupid" A chuckle was pulled from your lips at his words. You leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "you dork~"

After a bit of cleanup, the two of you fell asleep, basking in the warmth of your intimate connection.

[absfawn]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ “we fell in love in October”

Abby genuinely doesn’t understand how she hadn’t disintegrated or burst into flames on your first date. She was nervous, finding it so hard to focus on what you were saying when her eyes were more focused on the way your lips moved, and the way the gloss sparkled when all she wanted to do was kiss you under the dim light of the restaurant. You had talked to her about your interests and disinterests with such softness that even when she did finally hear what you were saying and wasn’t too focused on how your lips would feel against hers, she noticed the small things. The way you would move your hands around when talking or explaining, how you would tilt your head to the side, your hand covering your mouth when you giggle about a distant memory you were sharing. Or even how you throw your head back, and let out the most beautiful laugh she’s ever heard when you quickly remember something funny that happened to you when you were just a reckless teenager.

Even if she was nervous then, Abby still loved to see you happy and smiling. It took her so many times to agree to you taking her on a date. Not because she didn’t want you to, but because she was so in awe of you, and how pretty you were, and she was always stumped on how someone like you, so carefree, so full of so much hope and happiness, would ever think of her in the way she thinks of you. To put it easily, you were just as nervous as she was, always wondering if you had said too much, or said too little when you’d spot her walking around bookcase after bookcase of the library at 11pm. Would she mind if you had sat beside her? Would the broad-shouldered blonde care if you made a comment or recommendation on a book you had found her reading? Would she get irritated with the way you would sometimes read what you were reading, aloud? Would Abby ever—

“What’s got you thinking so hard?”

The rasp of her voice brings you back to reality where you find her, sitting in the chair opposite you, head buried in her current read, an eyebrow raised. A sign all her attention was on you, but still in her book. The sweater she was wearing, fitted her perfectly. “Just thinking about when i fell in love with you” You replied truthfully, looking back at your own book, bottom lip tugged between your teeth as you tried hiding your smile at the way her eyebrows shot up.

“Oh yeah? When did you finally realize you were so head over heels for me, sweet girl?”

“I remember the storm . . the one at the beginning of October last year? do you remember? i was stuck here, and you stole my number from a friend, just to tell me to not leave in case i got stuck out in it, or ended up getting hurt. And you drove 4 hours just to bring me a hot chocolate because you somehow knew they calmed me down with the loud sounds. You drove for 4 hours, in a storm we were told not to be out in, just to bring me a fucking drink. Then a few days later, i came here again to find you, to thank you for risking your life to make sure i was safe, and you were sat right there— at the table by the window, to be precise. You were wearing one of your old, as you know i like to call them, grandpa sweaters with your cute Harry Potter glasses and you came up to me before i could and you asked if i had a Library card because you were new around here and didn’t have your own yet”

How could she forget that day? For her, it was embarrassing and borderline exhausting rushing around, having to borrow someone else’s card to simply read a goddamn book. It felt easier when she spotted you again though. Unaware that you were waiting for her to turn up. Curled up on the couch, your jacket covering your slightly shivering body from the cold weather, and a cup of whatever hot beverage you had decided to buy at the café that morning, and a book, one she can’t remember because you read so many she can’t keep up, in your hands. You looked like an angel in her eyes. You always have.

“I would risk my life any day just so i know you are safe, no matter what” She admitted softly, book long forgotten as she smiled at you. “I was in love with you for a long time, you just made me extremely nervous. I asked your friend for your number in hopes it would make me feel less nervous but it didn’t. Everything about you is so perfect that i felt like i wouldn’t have a chance? But when the storm happened . . i didn’t want you to be alone, i never want you to be or feel alone”

“With you, I never feel alone Abs”

[harringtonstilinski]

Stop Stealing Mine! - Steve Harrington

Author:@harringtonstilinski​ Characters: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader Word Count: 1946 Warnings: big fluff, small angst, billy being an ass, steve & reader are just friends, Smut: no | yes; Requested: Nope. #30 from this prompt list A/N: Hi, friends! Here's a short little thing I spent about four and half forever's on. I split the prompt in two, and it's italicized. I hope you like this little piece! If you do, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox. As always, read at your own risk and enjoy 😊

Fall. Your absolute favorite time of the year. The pumpkin patches, football, sweaters, sweatshirts, boots, cooler weather, snickerdoodles; just everything about Fall you love.

You especially love stealing Steve’s sweaters without him knowing. Every year since about the 8th grade, you've been slowly stealing all the sweaters his mom buys that look absolutely comfy and cozy.

The two of you have been Seniors for about a month now, and the weather is just starting to get nice. It’s the middle of October and you’re sitting in the backseat of his car, Nancy Wheeler sitting up front like always. They’ve been together a little over a year now, and it’s… awkward, to say the least.

They were discussing his paper he had to turn in for early college application, Nancy asking about his granddad’s experience in the war versus the game we had against Northwestern. You were grossed out when they voiced their love for each other and kissed.

Their moment was interrupted by an engine revving, a blue Camaro making its appearance, a middle school aged redheaded girl getting out of the passenger side, a sandy blonde boy with a mullet getting out of the driver’s side, taking a drag from a cigarette. The three of you later learned that their names were Billy and Max, California transplants.

You were sitting in your third period class, pulling the ends of the sweater you were wearing to the ends of your fingers as you were reading your newest book when a body came up beside you. “Ya’know, I could do exactly what they’re doing in this book… only better.”

You looked up, seeing Billy with a cocky grin on his face. “Mmmmmmmhmmm,” you hummed, going back to my reading. 

“I’m–”

“Billy Hargrove,” you sighed, placing the bookmark back in your book. “I know.” Looking up at him, you raised a brow. “We have first period together.” As you turned back around, you watched his eyes light up with some emotion you weren’t quite sure of. Lust? Anger? Arousal?

Sighing once more, you opened the book back up, not really reading it, but just looking at the page as you addressed him. “So, if you’re done being a tool, you can go away now.”

Billy chuckled, resting his hands on the back of your chair and desk. “I’m not being a tool, sweetheart. Just being honest.”

“So, honesty for you is unnecessary flirting and borderline harassment because you won’t leave me alone? I wonder; did that work on the chicks in California? Because it sure as hell doesn’t work here in Indiana.”

Snickers were heard behind me as the bell rang, signaling the beginning of class. You gathered your things and got up from the desk. Walking into the hallway, you collided with a body, almost crashing to the floor when you felt a hand on your back. “Jesus, we have to work on your clumsiness.”

You pushed away from Steve, irritated with what just happened with Billy. “Yeah, well, if I wasn’t so freaking angry, I wouldn’t have collided with you.”

Steve put his arm around your shoulders, walking your down the hallway and out the front doors of the school. Before you knew it, the two of you were sitting on the hood of his car, your head resting on his shoulder. “What happened?” he asked, quietly.

“That new fucking transplant,” you breathed. “Wouldn’t leave me alone.” You brought the end of the sweater sleeves back down your hands to wrap your fingers around them. 

Steve was silent for a moment, moving his head down to look at your hands, a confused look on his face. He recognized the sweater you were wearing; his red one that he normally wore during the Christmas holiday. “Is-is that my red sweater?”

Tilting your head back to look at him, you said with a deadpan expression and tone, “Took you this long to notice?”

He went to reply, but the last bell for third period rang, the both of you looking towards the school. 

“I really don’t want to go back in there,” you quietly groaned. 

Steve wrapped his arm around your shoulders, hand rubbing your upper arm as you sighed before he stated, “Tell me what he did.”

Noticing a piece of thread hanging from the outer seam on his jeans, you played with it while asking him, “Promise to not look for a fight?” “I promise.”

Gathering your thoughts, tears sprung into your eyes as you took a deep breath, explaining what happened with Billy. It was quiet for a moment when you finished telling Steve the events that happened just a few minutes prior before you took a shaky breath, saying, “He just wouldn’t leave me alone.”

Tightening his hold on you the slightest bit, Steve took a deep breath, releasing it to say, “Let me take you home. Or back to mine.”

“Back to yours,” you whispered. “My mom’s home.” You reached in your bag, grabbing out a notebook and pen to write with him, handing the items to Steve. “You’ll need to let Nance know what you’re doing.”

Grabbing the notebook and pen from your hand, Steve wrote on the paper to Nancy that he was taking me back to his house because I wasn’t feeling too good and didn’t want to worry my mom. He looked at me after he finished writing, explaining that he wanted to have a best friend day with me since it had been a while since we had one.

That part wasn’t a lie. It had been quite a while since he and I had a day just to ourselves. I watched as he slid off his hood and walked through the parking lot to the front of the school, coming back out a few minutes later, scratching at his temple.

You scrunch your brows, wondering what could’ve happened that shifted his mood. As he made his way closer to you, all you could do was watch as he got into the driver’s seat, resting his left hand on the steering wheel.

Sighing, you slid off the hood of the car to round it and open the passenger door where you sat down and shut the door. You looked at your best friend, seeing a look of defeat on his face. “Hey,” you whispered. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

It was Steve’s turn to sigh, leaning his head back on the head rest. “She didn’t believe me. Or, rather, you. Said you looked fine before class and that you were just trying to skip because of some inconvenience, or whatever the fuck she said.”

“Like she has room to talk,” you muttered, resting against the seat and crossing your arms while looking out of your window. 

“What does that mean?” Steve asked.

You turned your head to look at him, seeing his eyes full of questions. “Did you two study in the library this morning?”

Steve nodded his head, while sighing. “She wants to tell Barbra’s parents about the Upside Down and the Demogorgon.”

“We can’t do that!” you exclaimed.

“I know. That’s what I told her.”

Letting out an exasperated sigh, you closed your eyes, muttering more to yourself, “It’s like she doesn’t care,” but Steve heard it, putting his hand above your knee. It was a move he always did to bring you comfort and control. “Come on,” you said. “Let’s go.”

Steve removed his hand from your leg to start the car, putting it in reverse before backing out of the parking spot. After he put it in drive, he started off towards his house, stopping off at the local diner to get some lunch for the two of you.

Once you two made it back to his house, you both sat on the floor at the coffee table, food from the diner in front of you. As you ate, you talked about anything and everything with Steve. From what the rumor mill was spilling, to who was dating who, who broke up with who, all the things.

Before you two knew it, the food containers were empty, cups almost empty, and your eyelids were starting to get heavy. Steve suggested that the two of you lay on the couch together and watch whatever daytime show was on the television. 

It wasn’t uncommon for the two of you to cuddle together. Something you’d done since you two were kids. So, laying here with Steve instantly brought you comfort to the point where you drifted off to sleep while listening to his heartbeat.

Steve loved it when you fell asleep on him. Mainly because he could just look at your sleeping face and wonder how he got lucky enough to have a best friend like you. He loved your light snores, your sighs or deep breaths, the movements you’d make to get more comfortable. He always thought to himself that if he wasn’t with Nance, he’d take his shot at being with you.

What he never knew was that you felt the same way as he did. Your crush on your best friend started late in 8th grade when his glow up happened, and it seemed like everyone in your class had their glow ups in 8th grade, while yours happened in 10th grade. So, in the back of your mind, you weren’t pretty enough for anyone until then… and you still felt like that even now. Since Steve was with Nancy, though, you couldn’t act on your feelings. It wouldn’t be fair to Nance, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be fair to Steve. He was your best friend, after all.

Steve had fallen asleep, listening to your soft breaths and snores. His hands were resting on your back when you fell asleep, but when you moved to get more comfortable in your sleep, his hand ended up resting on your side, his other hand resting on his own stomach. He swore he could stay this way forever.

When you started to stir as you woke up a couple of hours later, your eyes were still closed as you stayed in your comfortable position. A few minutes went by before Steve took a deep breath, a small groan sounding from him as he held you a little tighter.

“Did you have a good nap?” he asked, his eyes still closed.

You hummed, nodding your head against his shoulder. “Yeah.” Bringing your hand up to his chest, you curled your fingers around the end of the sleeve. “You?”

“Yes,” he simply answered. “I have a question that’s kind of been bothering me all day.”

“What’s that?”

“Is that my sweater?” he asked, not missing a beat.

“Yeah, why?”

“Don’t you have enough sweaters?”

“Yours are more comfortable,” you chuckled. Getting an idea, you sat up and looked down at him, smiling.

“Don’t think about it,” he said, once he opened his eyes.

“You have another sweater that’s one of my favorites. Whoever gets to your closet first gets it.” Without a moment's hesitation, you climbed over Steve, and booked it to the staircase, the seventeen year old boy falling off the couch in his haste to catch you as you climbed the stairs, laughing hysterically.

“Yo! You have plenty of sweaters!”

“They’re more comfortable, like I said!” you yelled, running across the landing of the second floor. What he didn’t know was that you already had his yellow one he recently purchased.

When he finally made it into his room, you were already standing in his closet with the biggest smile on your face. Steve walked into his closet, seeing his sweater collection almost empty. “For the third time, you have plenty of sweaters. Stop stealing mine!”

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A/N 2:  hi, friends! let me know what you thought! again, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox.

A/N 3: i used the gif above before, but idgaf, lol. i thought it was fitting for what i had in mind for the story, hahahaa. plus there's not many gifs of steve in that red sweater.

~~~

Forever / Everything Taglist: @stiles-o-dylan24​​ @stixnstripesworld​​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​​ @quanticobae​​ @mischiefandi​​ @kellyashcroft​​ @lauren-novak​​​

Steve Harrington Taglist: none yet!

If you’re tagged and didn’t want to be, please let me know.

~~~

*Please don’t post my writing anywhere else without my consent. The author of this work will always and forever be @stilinskiparker​.

All characters, story lines, and plot aside from y/n and her storyline & plot, are all of the work of The Duffer Brothers.

*These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited.

No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

Posted on October 28, 2023

[cherienymphe]

all of my writing explores dark themes such as non-consent, dubious-consent, and a/b/o subjects. if any of this offends you, this has been your warning!

➯ dividers by @firefly-graphics​ | @straywords​​

➯ banner by me

Traitor

Your friendship is tested when JJ discovers that you’ve been sneaking around with Rafe motherfucking Cameron.

The Less I Know The Better

When you start dating Rafe Cameron, no one is more surprised than you when your best friend JJ takes it really well. However, no one is more surprised than JJ when he’s forced to see his once frumpy BFF in an entirely new light, suddenly terrified of losing what he never knew he had to the person he hates most.

Borderline

The three times you had sex with your best friend…and the one time you didn’t.

Sweater Weather 

Your brother’s best friend takes it upon himself to butt into your life when he catches you the last place you’re supposed to be.

Teenage Dirtbag

You’re charmingly spoiled. You’re too kind for your own good. You’re the princess of Figure 8 …and you’re way out of JJ Maybank’s league, but when he realizes that Rafe Cameron’s pride and joy is actually a bruised and battered damsel, he’s determined to save you.

Your rescue just comes with a price.

You Get Me So High

To everyone else, JJ is just being an overprotective brother. To you, he’s being a possessive asshole.

➥ As a boyfriend

➥ Dark!JJ

[inthewindandinthewater]

A Plain of Stars (Chapter 2)

A/n: I wrote another part! I hope you all like it, I think I'll keep writing chapters for now- I have a storyline in mind based off the og one shot.

Warnings: Light cursing, arranged marriages.

Chapter 3

⋆⋆⋆☆✦☆☆✭☆☆✦☆☆✭☆☆✦☆⋆⋆⋆

Going back to school after the ball was nerve wracking to put lightly. Not only would you be facing the Hogwarts student body, you would also be confronted with Regulus. You had easily made it through the last several years avoiding both Black brother, if not only for the reason that neither of them seemed to want to acknowledge your presence

A deep hurt had shot through your chest the first time you looked at Sirius and he showed no recognition of who you were. It felt like a worse betrayal than his leaving, you could file that away as something bigger than you. This was personal, this was something between you and Sirius. But, never one to go out of your way for a simple confrontation, you let the hurt sink further and further down until it remained only a dull ache that set heavy over your diaphragm, stealing your breath each time his grey eyes caught yours. 

That same pain set a little heavier the first time you looked Regulus in the eyes. Maybe that was what had thrown you off so much when you saw him again for the first time after his disappearance, they were so similar. Those slate grey eyes made them look like inverses, two opposite ends of the same spectrum- although you're sure Sirius would shun the notion. 

You walked down the corridor connecting the girls dormitories to the Slytherin common room. The weather was changing as rapidly as the leaves fell from the trees. Autumn hung lightly in the air, bringing with it cold that settled especially deep in the dungeon of the castle. Being that as it was, you were wrapped in both your grey uniform sweater vest and an emerald green cardigan in an attempt to shake off the chill. 

“Morning.” The hairs at the nape of your neck stood and your shoulders tensed. Not in fear so much as pure annoyance and apprehension of what would come after the greeting. You weren’t fond of Barty Crouch, but goodness me was he fond of you- or at least he pretended to be for no other reason than to get on your nerves. He was lounging in one of the plush, velvet chairs with his legs sound over the armrest. “Goodmorning, Barty” You said, boredom and disinterest lacing your tone, “someone sounds grumpy, sleep badly, love?” He asked, turning his head in false interest. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” You responded, walking past him and to the great double doors leading out of the common room. You heard him shuffle behind you, rising to follow you. “I would actually,” he sidled up next to your and threw an arm around your shoulder, “I would also like to know why you insist on being so terrible to me.” His grin was wolfish and jeering, you shrugged your shoulders in an attempt to shove off his arm- no such luck. “I suppose you’ll have to keep wondering.” 

A staircase slid into place in front of you and the two of you began to climb. Suddenly it resumed movement, catching you off guard and causing you to stumble. Barty’s arm around you moved to your waist as he drug his hand down your body making you shiver in abject horror. The moment the staircase came to a halt you took a step back from the boy, who’d pressed his body to yours in the time in between. “You’ll have to be more aware of your surroundings in the future, love.” He said, taking a step back towards you, “Or you’ll ruin that pretty face of yours” Barty reached out then and flicked your nose, making you grimace and shove him away. “If that’s what it takes for you to stay aware of me I just might do it myself.” You snap at him and turn on your heel, trudging up the rest of the stairs. 

By the time you reached the great hall you still hadn’t calmed down, you didn’t notice the borderline march you settled into in your rage until you took your seat next to Pandora. “Someone is on a mission” She said, buttering her toast before handing you a blueberry muffin just as she had everyday for the last year and a half. You huffed and rolled your eyes, “I had the pleasure of being walked halfway here by Barty.” Evan choked on his orange juice, a hand came to rest on his back as he oscillated between a wet cough and wheezing laugh. In your whirlwind anger you hadn’t noticed Regulus sat in the spot next to Evan. Although the two were close Regulus had stopped sitting by Evan during meals some time ago. Had you been keeping track you would have noticed it was around the same time you came to sit with the twin, maybe Barty was right- some advances in perception wouldn’t hurt you. 

“And how was that?” Evan said, finally recovering from his fit and sitting up to look at you, clearly amused. “I hate him.” You deadpan and he lets out a high pitched giggle, “he loves you, though!” He squeals back, obviously happy with the little shiver you let out. “He does fancy you, he just has a gross way of showing it” Pandora confirms your worst nightmare, “And I’m supposed to be flattered?” 

As you and Pandora bicker back and forth about your encounter, Regulus remains stiff in his seat. Somewhere between your mentioning of Barty walking you to breakfast and Pandora’s claim that he fancies you Regulus underwent full rigour mortis, and had failed every attempt to relax himself. It’s now that Evan sets a hand on his shoulder. “Alright?” The dark haired boy snaps to attention, turning to his friend. “Hm?” He had heard exactly what Evan said, but Regulus had developed the talent of selective hearing in social settings, it was fantastic for getting people to leave you alone. It worked now, as it usually did, Evan simply hummed surreptitiously and went back to his breakfast. 

The day passed you by slowly, in the easy kind of way that often came with the seasons change. Everything seemed to slow down when autumn came over the castle, it was lovely. The very air seemed to take on an essence of calm and cosy. 

You were indulging in said cosiness on one the common room couches, curled up close to the smouldering fire with a mug of cider whilst brushing up on some reading for your Care of Magical Creatures course. Or you had been before a dip in the cushion next to you pulled you out a passage about Kneazles. As you looked up you had to draw back a bit as Regulus peered over your shoulder to get a look at the page. “You know some people keep those things as pets” He says, a little absent minded in his delivery. His eyes finally find yours, but you didn't hear what he said- too focused on how close his face was to yours. When your brain finally catches up to your mouth you respond, “Oh. Yes, I knew a lady who had one. They get quite large when they’re fully grown, it was nearly the size of her. Although she has quite old, it isn’t hard to think she might have shrunk over the years-” 

You snap your mouth shut, effectively end the rant about your elderly neighbour and her Kneazle. You have a tendency to ramble when you’re nervous, and the proximity of you and the boy next to you doesn't exactly set you at ease. You cringe in embarrassment, but Regulus is just smiling at you. It’s small, barely there really, just a small twinge in the corner of his mouth. But, for once, you notice. 

“Fascinating.” He says sarcastically, shattering what you had thought to be a sweet moment. You huff, rolling your eyes and turning away from him, “can I help you?” You ask when he remains next to you. “I’m bored.” He says, leaning his hand on his chin. “Okay?” You shoot a glance at him, only for him to cock his head to the side. “Okay?” He parrots. You close your book and turn to face him causing him to sit up and lean back against the armrest. “What could I possibly do to entertain you, Mr. Black.” You ask in a sing-songy tone. “Read to me.” He says lazily, waving a hand at your book. You gawk at him before closing your mouth abruptly and turning away from him. 

“No.” 

“No?”

“No, Regulus” 

“Why not?” 

“Because” 

Suddenly the book is snagged out of your hand, “Fine” He says, flicking through the book, “Although Kneazles have a feline-like appearance they are more closely related to the Nundu of East Africa…” You stare at him as he reads, fully expecting him to drop the bit and give your book back in some time. However, once he begins the next passage, going into more depth about the Nundu, you recline back into your seat with the realisation that he wasn’t playing a bit. 

The warmth of the fire and Regulus’ soft voice lull you into a state of such all encompassing comfort that you feel your eyes becoming unbearably heavy. Eventually you couldn’t keep yourself sitting up anymore and you curled back against the arm rest, wrapping your blanket over your shoulders. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep afterward. 

When he realises you’ve fallen asleep, Regulus slowly closes the book and watches you for a moment, the soft pout of your lips and the steady rise and fall of your chest. You look so soft and comfortable in that moment, he could scoot closer to you, feigning that he too was lulled to sleep by the dull textbook.

Instead he places the book next to you, stands and goes to leave. What he doesn’t know is how light of a sleeper you are, every bump and stir wakes you- which is not ideal for a dorm room housing five teenage girls. You keep your eyes closed as he leans over you, pulling the blanket over your shoulders and brushing your hair away from your face. Perhaps you could get used to this.

[jovenshires]

capernoited from ask game for spommy! i just thought tipsy tommy or spencer pre relationship would be cute while the other takes care of them

Capernoited - Slightly intoxicated or tipsy.

i put a little under the cut bc this got away from me a lil but i hope you enjoy!! (btw if you like this concept you can go check out spencer vs. gay panic by soupy for a different but excellent take!!)

send me a word and a character/pairing!

The way that Tommy laughs reverberates all the way through Spencer's body. It starts where Tommy's mouth meets the junction of his neck; it echoes through his collarbone and down his chest. He feels it everywhere. He aches with it.

"Alright," he says, "up and at 'em."

With the shoulder under Tommy's arm, he nudges him 'til he's standing upright again. Sure, he's still leaning on Spencer, but at least he's not fully draped across him now. Spencer can finally see as he guides them both down the hallway of Tommy's apartment building. Still, Tommy whines. "But you smell nice," he says.

He knows that Tommy's drunk; he doesn't know what he's saying, but Spencer feels his face heat up anyway. Later, when he recalls this story, he'll blame it on anything else - Tommy's body heat rolling off of him in waves, the apartment being stiflingly hot, or his sweater being too heavy for the LA weather. He won't blame it on a nice compliment from a beautiful boy.

"Thanks," he says, ignoring how pink his ears have probably gone. "I'd say the same, but you smell a lot like tequila."

Tommy laughs, because he's drunk, and he laughs at everything when he's drunk. Spencer's seen him like this before; they've gone out drinking plenty of times. Well, Tommy drinks, and Spencer watches from afar. He yearns and says nothing and drinks his sad, overpriced Sprite. He finds it works best that way - when Tommy just exists and Spencer just pines. Like Tommy's a comet and he's wishing from the ground. But tonight, for some reason, he'd volunteered to take Tommy home.

"You're funny," Tommy says suddenly. "And pretty."

This is why he's better off on the ground, he remembers suddenly. Tommy is a giddy drunk, a clingy drunk, and a flirty drunk. And Spencer is halfway in love with him. The combination of those factors leads to borderline torture - wonderful, yet excruciating torture.

Without another way to respond, Spencer snorts. "And you're drunk."

At that, Tommy sighs, like Spencer had just spoken an irrefutable truth. "Yeah," he says loftily. "But I'm just drunk now. You're always pretty."

Like he said: torture. Spencer doesn't have anything to say to that, and luckily, they've made it to Tommy's front door, so instead of saying anything, he just reaches for the keys stuffed into his back pocket. With a click, the door opens, and he lets them inside. "C'mon," he says. He flicks on the light, thankful he's hung out at Tommy's apartment enough to know the layout. For his part, Tommy just stumbles in beside him, laughing at nothing as Spencer closes the door. His arm feels heavy on Spencer's shoulders, but it's a weight he's glad to share.

"You're so nice to me," Tommy says as they shuffle together towards his bedroom. "You're, like, the best."

Actually, Spencer's far from the best. He's selfish - he volunteered to take Tommy home, even though Damien could have done it just as easily. For once, he'd gotten the courage to get a little closer, to keep Tommy's brilliant light to himself. But he doesn't say as much. He just opens the bedroom door, flips the switch to the overhead light, and leads Tommy to bed. "Easy, dude," he mutters, supporting Tommy's weight as he climbs in. He doesn't even bother sliding under the covers. Spencer sighs and looks around for another blanket to drape over him instead.

He spots one in the corner of the room and moves to grab it when suddenly he hears Tommy whine again. "Don't go," he says petulantly. "Stay."

Spencer freezes and looks over his shoulder. Tommy's looking at him with a furrowed brow and wide eyes, like he's afraid that Spencer's going to leave. It makes Spencer frown. "I won't, dude," he says. "Promise."

This time, when he goes for the blanket, Tommy says nothing, though Spencer can see him pouting out of the corner of his eye. What a baby, Spencer thinks, but he doesn't mean it. He's pretty sure Tommy could ask him for anything right now and he'd do it, no questions asked. He brings it back and drapes it over Tommy's lanky frame, covering him up. Tommy sighs happily and lets himself fall deeper into the bed, comfortable and warm. "I'm gonna go get you a glass of water, okay?" Spencer asks, and Tommy furrows his brows. "I'll be back in, like, two minutes, tops."

Tommy sighs but doesn't object. He lets Spencer leave the bedroom and head down the hallway to Tommy's kitchen. He roots around but finds the glasses easily enough, and on second thought, hunts down some aspirin, too. When he comes back, he's surprised to find that Tommy's still awake, raising his head a little as Spencer's feet find a creaky floorboard. "Here," he says. He hands Tommy the water and puts the aspirin down on the bedside table. He watches as Tommy takes a few long, thirsty sips, his Adam's apple bobbing with it, and Spencer tries not to focus on that too much. "Good, now you can't hate me in the morning."

Tommy stops drinking and puts the glass down on the table, glaring at Spencer as he does so. "Couldn't hate you," he says sincerely, and Spencer tries not to focus on that, either.

"Right," he says, awkward even to his own ears. "Well, now that you're all good, I - I should really get going, Tommy."

"No," Tommy whines again. He reaches out and grabs Spencer by the wrist. "Stay, please?"

Spencer is trying his damn best not to cave. Not without a fight, at least. "It's late, man, and I don't want this to be weird."

Tommy shakes his head emphatically. "Please. Just stay, just for tonight. I just need to like..." He gestures with the hand that's not holding onto Spencer, waving at the room around them. "Remember this was real. Remember you like this. Okay?"

It's like he said - he'd do anything, no questions asked. So he sighs and relents: "Fine. I'll be on the couch, alright?" Tommy pouts again, but Spencer shakes his head. "Absolutely not budging on that. Promise, I'll be here all night." At Tommy's doubtful look, he adds, "I wouldn't lie to you, would I?"

Tommy sighs again, like Spencer's said something that makes so much sense. "No," he says. He squeezes Spencer's wrist and curls deeper into his pillow. "Okay. See you tomorrow, Spencer."

When Tommy lets go, he knows he feels a little colder, but he refuses to examine why. "Night, Tommy," he says. He waits for a moment to listen to Tommy's breathing even out before he goes. He finds a notepad in one of the kitchen drawers, writes a warning to Tommy for the morning, and sticks it on the nightstand with the aspirin. Then he heads for the couch, kicking off his shoes and settling in for the night. He's a lot of things - selfish, yeah. An idiot, maybe. But he's not a liar. Not even if Tommy probably won't remember the whole thing in the morning.

He drifts to sleep on Tommy's couch, the long night finally taking its toll on him, and dreams of comets and beautiful boys.

[percervall]

Getting caught in the rain

Autumn masterlist

Player: Antoine Griezmann Words: 1009  Requested: @footballffbarbiex Warnings: None (although it ends less than innocent. I had to, it's Anto) A/N: Happy (early?) birthday Amy! Hope I did him justice 😊

-----------

“I thought you said it’d stay dry?” she said as the rain picked up. 

“That’s what my phone said. Guess it was wrong,” Antoine replied, the left corner of his mouth pulling up in an apologetic smile. 

“Well that’s an understatement,” she muttered under her breath. The little bit of drizzle had now turned into a proper autumn shower. The weather had been lovely when they had set out on their hike. The sun had filtered through the leaves and their hiking boots had crunched through those that had already fallen. It was beautiful. Since the sun was still out, she had decided to leave her coat in the car and to just wear a fleece sweater on top of her t-shirt. She was regretting that decision now.

“We can either turn around and walk the 5 kilometres back to the car, or keep going for another 4.5 until we reach the car park,” Antoine suggested. 

“Either way, we’ll be soaked by the time we get there,” she sighed. “Might as well keep going then.” 

Antoine chuckled, his blue eyes sparkling, and took her hand. “Come one then, we’re over half-way there.” 

“Forever the optimist,” she said, and let Antoine pull her along. Luckily that part of the trail was flanked by tall pine trees which managed to somewhat shield them from the rain, but by the time they reached the car, she was convinced even her underwear was wet –and not in a fun way. Antoine opened the boot and grabbed the two blankets he always kept in there after they’d gotten stuck with car problems in the middle of January. While she had opted to wear a sweater, Antoine had decided against it. His t-shirt was glued to his skin now.

“T-take off y-your j-jumper b-babe, l-let’ss get y-you d-dry,” Antoine said, shivering so much his teeth were chattering.  She normally had a policy against public nudity, but she was so cold. Antoine helped her peel off the sweater and t-shirt. She toed off her hiking boots and socks, leaving her in just a vest top and her hiking trousers. Antoine wrapped her in the blanket, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. 

“How about you get the car started, turn the heat up all the way, ‘kay?” 

She nodded and took the car keys from him. A moment later Antoine climbed in as well, the other blanket draped around him like a cloak. They both sat in silence for a moment, still shivering and waiting for the car to heat up.

“If I catch my death, I will come back to haunt you,” she said, looking at him. Antoine chuckled and started the car.

“I don’t doubt you will,” he replied, eyes twinkling. 

While Antoine threw their wet clothes in the washing machine, she walked upstairs to turn the shower on. As she waited for the water to reach borderline hellish temperatures, she caught her reflection in the mirror. She couldn’t stop shivering, even if she was no longer wearing her wet clothes. Her ponytail now resembled more of a rat's tail and she had spots of dried mud on her cheeks. She tried to remove the hair bobble from her ponytail without ripping out every single hair on her head, and ran her fingers through it, trying to untangle some of the knots. Antoine came jogging into the bathroom and straight under the hot spray of the shower, hissing as the hot water hit his cold skin. She chuckled softly and joined him, allowing Antoine to pull her against his chest as they let the hot water chase the chill from their bones. 

She sat in front of the fire, legging-clad legs outstretched as she wriggled her toes inside her fuzzy socks. Her hands were hidden in the sleeves of the hoodie she’d stolen from Antoine when they first started dating and her hair was plopped on top of her head in a wet bun, but at least she was warm now. The rain had not let up since they’d returned home and was lashing against the windows in the living room.

“Here,” Antoine said, offering her one of the two mugs he was holding. He had changed into a pair of grey sweatpants and a soft-looking jumper in a shade of blue that made his eyes look even brighter. His cheeks were still pink from the heat of the shower. She gratefully accepted the mug, wrapping her hands around it to warm them. 

“This is no ordinary hot chocolate,” she said, blowing on the hot drink. 

“Ah, no. Found the Kahlua in the cupboard when I was looking for the cocoa,” he explained with a chuckle. He lowered himself to the floor next to her and took a sip. 

“Next time we want to do a physical activity, we’re going to an indoor mall. Or the garden centre,” she said, throwing him a look. Antoine laughed, head thrown back.

“Oh sweetheart, I have plenty of suggestions that’ll wear you out and get you wet.” He looked at her, a sly smirk still on his lips. His blue eyes had darkened in colour. If her cheeks weren’t pink already from the shower or the added alcohol to her drink, they for sure would be now. 

“Oh really?” She could kick herself. Was that the best response she could come up with? 

“Mhmm, would you like me to demonstrate?” Antoine said, moving closer.

“Anto…” it came out barely louder than a whisper. “Love my name on your lips sweetheart,” he murmured, moving their mugs to the floor before pressing his lips against hers. He rested his full weight on his right arm as his left came up to cup her face, fingers curving around her ear and his thumb rested on her cheek. Her eyes fluttered closed. The kiss was gentle, almost chaste, but it held an unspoken promise of all the absolutely filthy things he was planning to do with and to her and she, for one, looked forward to participating in his demonstration.

[daggerandrose]

🧣sunday snippet🧣

Happy Sunday everyone! I wish the weekend was longer ugh But! I've been working on my big bang for this round a little bit more today and it’s coming together!

oh and I was tagged by: @absoloutenonsense @kingonafiftymetreroad @crinkle-eyed-boo and @eeveelou! I'll tag y’all back if you have anything to share. If you’re not working on anything right now, then consider this a little “hi, I hope you're doing well!”

“Blood orange, shut up it’s fucking red,” Louis sneers and rolls his eyes.

“No, there is a distinct difference.”

“There’s really not.” Louis rummages through the bolts until he pulls out a deep red. He holds it beside the swatch Harry found. “See?”

Harry glares at him. “There is a difference. Mine has more of an orange tint to it. It’s still red, but it borderlines orange.”

“So, you admit it’s red.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Calling it blood orange makes it sound more expensive.”

“Is that what you want from your designs? For them to be unobtainable to the average person?” There’s judgment clear in his voice.

“Don’t you want to see your designs on celebs and highly influential people? Don’t you want them to be a mark of status?”

“Not at all,” Louis rubs his deep red fabric between his thumb and pointer finger, testing the weight and thickness. “I want anyone who can to wear them. I want it to be someone’s comfort clothes. You know, the type you thrown on at the end of the day?” He looks over at Harry. “You do have clothes like that, don’t you?”

Harry thinks to his ragged lavender sweater he throws on the moment the weather turns cool and the sweatpants he saves exclusively for when he feels extremely overwhelmed by everything. “I have a few pieces like that.”

Louis hums, glancing up and down Harry’s body. “I’m not going to lie, that surprises me. You seem to be ‘on’ at all times. I’d think that set of lifestyle would bleed over into your entire wardrobe too.”

Harry glances down at his favorite Gucci shirt and burgundy corduroy pants. His brown boots are in need of polishing, but they’re extremely comfortable. “What’s wrong with looking nice?”

[alephnol]

Hello, as for my quest to make a fandom, here.

This is Klaus , enjoy!

He would love to awnser questions n what not. (Eventually i will Share all my characters!) (hopefully he isn’t ableist)

General Info

Name:  klaus Krause

Nickname: Doktor k, doc. klaus, Doctor love

Gender: male

Ancestry: half German half Ukrainian. (Lives in Germany)

Age: appearance age: 37-40.   True age: 2000>

Appearance

Height: 5”7 or 170.18 cm/ 1.7 meters

Weight: 128 pounds or 58.0598 kilos

Hair: fluffy and feathery outward, length around to shoulders if straightened. Bangs swept to the right to his view. Curls at ends. Pale taupe color with frosted ends and white hairs littering everywhere. He has a stubble.

Skin: freckles litter his skin. His skin color is called Chardonnay. His skin always has a light blush to it.

Distinguishing marks: He has a tan line over his eyes where he wore goggles all the time. One of his eyes is permanently space inflicted from the teleporter's rage. He has sharp teeth as well. His hair behaves as if it was electrically static-ed.

Eyes: almond shaped. One of his eyes as said is spacey whilst the other is a very dim cyan. If you look close enough, you will see he has central heterochromia with green.

Clothing: he tends to wear semi classy outfits like a turtleneck with a dark science jacket. He always wears military boots and military pants. He says it is useful in bad weather. He sometimes dresses librarian-esque.

PHASE LEFT (EMESIS BLUE superstate)(Klaus)

Temperament: calm and collected yet easily startled. Very sophisticated and royal-esque. He is an intp.

Moral/ethical beliefs: he believes that something shall be achieved at all costs unless it is murder or torture. He cannot stand the sight of death there. But unless someone is borderline trying to kill him or his family, he ont engage in violence. Despite this, he is very blunt and bold.

Religious beliefs: he used to be catholic, but is now undecided.

Political stance: I don't believe it matters but he is more centrist. Leaning a smidgen left.

Hobbies: he knits and reads. He also learned guitar and the piano. He was in choir as well.

Habits: when nervous he will rub his head. He scratched his right arm a lot. Now he has a prothstetic. Still does it. He stares at people a lot. He also spaces out.

Quirks/eccentricities: he has a hard time talking to women. It’s not that he gets all OOH A GIRL! no, he has just never got along with them. He talks quieter to them in fact.

Likes: cats. He likes borscht and tea. His favorite tea is grapefruit tea. He is a scientist and medical professional so that too, bunnies are his favorite lil creatures. Oddly enough he loves triangles, or polygon shapes. Turtleneck sweaters as well. Tarantulas ironically

Dislikes: birds, funny enough. He hates dark blue too. Bright lights, public spaces… too many people makes him feel paranoid. He is petrified of tiny spiders

Fears: claustrophobia. Death. Being alone forever

Strengths: he does science well, he is a good therapist too. He has the right level of patience and impatience.

Weaknesses: he can’t stand large crowds. Frogs. Allergic to peanuts. He is depressed

Short term goals: he wants to achieve peace in himself.

Long term goals: he wants to discover all worlds out there as possible and defend them.

Hopes and desires: he wants to have a family and to be happy. Wants people to love the mysteries of the world.

Occupation: doctor, chemist, traveler

Skills: knitting, dancing(very flexible) singing (up to soprano) great piano player.

Secrets:.

He is nasbird. THE nasbird. (Peace nation personification)

He is knows when EB fritz dies because of dreams

PHASE RIGHT (comic au superstate) Doktor k)

Temperament: enfp almost. Hyper, eccentric, and impulsive. Alike his other personality, very bold and blunt.

Moral/ethical beliefs: unlike his other personality.. he wants everything at all costs unless it’s murder on most occasions. Torture is ok.

Religious beliefs: atheist

Political stance: more left than his other side.

Hobbies: singing, acting, guitar playing.

Habits: he laughs a lot and is quite loud and jittery when he talks

Quirks/eccentricities: he tends to stutter when lying, enough to notice. He fidgets with his hands a lot. He has an oral fixation.

Likes: I mean, yeah, he likes sex.(no shit, he isn’t ace) He loves cats, bats, his mutated pets, he finds red soothing. Purple and green is his fav colors. He is a sausage guy

Dislikes: arguments and fussy people (too annoying) being alone for too long I suppose.

Fears: death or being forgotten.

Strengths: he is very brave and ambitious, he is flexible as hell and very prideful in his speech, a good debater.

Weaknesses: he can’t stand people who hate him. He is allergic to peanuts (still) and left alone too long will make him paranoid.

Short term goals: wants to cure cancer

Long term goals: wants to see tf2 medic again and beat god with him

Hopes and desires: to have an army of alien pets, to help his nation be strong and powerful. (In the peaceful manner)

Occupation: scientist, (mostly chemist) actor and shitty spy

Skills: he is good at ballet. (All forms) same as other state.

Gear

Always has:

Green balance Goggles (helps him calm down or hide emotions as dr k)

medic emblem eyepatch (for when he is Klaus so he can hide that eerie eye)

Sometimes has:

Necklaces of medic, Test tubes scattered, along with other chemist stuff. Medical and chemical textbooks and books he wrote, so on.

Events and History

Recent notable events

He learned he had technically died in the teleporter yet is stuck in a super state

he and the medic reunited.

Bad events in the past

He got a syndrome known as teleporters rage (1) from teleporting to ww1

He has major insecurity issues because of what he did.

he was he attempted self death, but learned he can’t die.

Good events in the past

He and the medic were very good friends in childhood.

Him and Otacon made decent friends!

He adopted Cesare

History and background details

He and the medic (tf2 Ludwig), were friends. Best friends even. Both going into medical school together in fact. Medic was less ethical, but Klaus didn't mind. Even crushing on the medic, but figuring it would destroy their relationship, he never acted upon it, at least until they were 20. They graduated from medical school getting their license, (medic barely) and celebrated with.. (how do I put this) partying drunk and doing the do. (consensual of course. They planned to whilst sober) two weeks after, medic got his license revoked for stealing a man’s skeleton and had to flee his nation. Klaus never saw him again and he missed the medic a lot. Right before medic fled, however, Klaus got whispers of the gods (probably just his destiny as nasbird but he never knew that) to create teleportation and such. So he does, contacts medic after his 4 years of creating it, and they turned it on and Klaus went in, right after that it closed automatically, medic never seeing Klaus again. Klaus ends up going into a warped ww1. He gains a syndrome called ‘teleporter’s rage’ and after two hours murders 3 people in defense and eats their corpses. He is rabid for two days. He hated what he did but it wasn’t on his mind as much as survival for the next two years. (He gained a hatred for fighting.) Maksim then opened a portal and dragged Klaus out. (He has no idea who he is) and Maksim explains everything and later they become friends. Klaus then learns modern teleportation machinery (space watches) and becomes a world logger. Teleporting from world to world to figure out how true they are. Eventually, ivanska, (litteraly related to Ivan braginsky) goes crazy and tries to nuke Switzerland. Promptly, Klaus is pissed, sending the nuke back to Russia and teleporting away. After such, he ends up in a middle world where he builds his lab and stuff. His two ‘personalities’ start to show as states of physicality, not as personalities. Learning he is a living paradox (Schrödinger’s cat, he doesn’t realize he is dead and alive till way post story tho), he tries to find out how to select one of the AU’S he is from. Desperately teleporting universe to universe to find out how to get home. He gives up and just does experiments in his lab for 3 years until he decides he kind of wants to raise someone. And who better to raise than… a 25 year old somnambulist with heavy trauma. (Hmmmmmmm) anyways, through realizing sleepwalking some how can transfer universes and remembering his dreams, he does some harmless sleeping tests to study somnambulism so he can project it onto one of his phases to see if this can make him transport not just mentally, but physically to EMESIS BLUE. after so many tries, it works and Cesare was pulled there too. So yeah. Now he is trying to become friends with fritz. Les go.

[ghostaide]

NAME ... aleksandr serafin novak. NICKNAMES ... aleks. AGE ... arc dependent. BIRTHDAY ... january 21st. GENDER ... transman, he/him. SEXUALITY ... bisexual. SPECIES ... human, psychic medium. OCCUPATION ... private detective.

ABILITY ... aleksandr novak is a psychic medium with an access to a plethora of psychic abilities. his primary ability is simply referred to as knowing. in his mind, aleks has omnipotent knowledge of history, the world and others. this knowledge prods constantly at his mind and he has to actively repress accepting it, as the rush of ancient knowledge would be dangerous for his brain to accept. HAIR ... soft, pure white hair. slightly textured with mild waves. it falls to around aleksandr's shoulders. he will typically tie it back for work, but leaves it loose and in his face on his off hours. EYES ... deep - set into his sockets with hooded eyelids. in color, they are a warm, dark brown. they possess a perpetually sleepy or sultry quality, depending on how you see it. PHYSIQUE ... overall very average. carries some extra weight that shows most around his cheeks, upper arms, thighs, stomach and butt. NOTABLE FEATURES ... thick eyebrows that meet in the middle, cold and delicate hands, pale skin. HEIGHT ... five - foot - two. WEIGHT ... STYLE ... nothing too specific. he leans towards clothes that keep him covered up for the most part. he enjoys wearing baggy jeans, oversized sweaters and heavy boots that typically add a few inches to his meager height. PIERCINGS/TATTOOS ... both ear lobes are pierced.

TRAITS ... on the surface level, aleks can come off as a pushover. he feels a consistent need to help others, even to his own detriment. however, he can also be sardonic, bitchy and snarky. he has anger in him he often suppresses, but it is outweighed by his genuine love for others and the world at large. LIKE ... reading, video games, rainy weather, clocking out of work, absurdist humor, food. DISLIKES ... loud noises, certain textures, being touched, arrogance, conflict.

MENTAL PROFILE ... borderline personality disorder, autism spectrum disorder, complex post traumatic stress disorder. PHYSICAL PROFILE ... chronic pain.

RELATIONSHIPS. ♡ leon kennedy,

NOTES. ➥ aleks struggles with drug dependency. ➥ in his possession is a haunted doll he calls mary. he treats her similarly to a daughter.

BACKGROUND.

[musicaalternativaeindie]

Música Alternatiav o Indie rock

Esta es otra de mis categorías favoritas de música la indie rock un subgénero del rock alternativo.Se originó en los Estados Unidos, Reino Unido y Nueva Zelanda en la década de 1980. De gran diversidad, presenta variados sub-géneros que incluyen al lo-fi, slowcore y entre otros

Alguna que otra banda indie rock sería

-Pink Floyd

-The smiths

- The killers

-The neighborhood

-Imagine Dragons

-Tame Impala

-Arctic Monkeys

-Cage the elephant

-The cure

Estas y otras más son muy conocidas en este género, y a mi en lo personal me gusta como suena Arctic Monkeys y Cage the elephant en este subgénero.

Les dejo unas de mis canciones Indie Rock Favoritas

[on-the-borderline-of-grace]

My days are full of blessings even ones disguised as silver linings.

Humbly & graciously I accept and give thanks.

Stay looking for the light my friends.

[inculpatemartyr]

[nctsworld]

two nights, one you

✩‌ jaemin ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ fuckboy!jaemin | strangers (who f*ck) to (brief) enemies to lovers | ‌10.9k 

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ a last-minute one night stand gone awry is extended into two nights when you’re snowed in at the cute (but rude) stranger’s apartment on christmas eve. [loosely based on the movie, two night stand] // part of the x-mas in ncity collection  GENRES ⇾ crack | smut | fluff  WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ ‌lots of bickering and dialogue, smut, oral s*x (f and m receiving), fingering, mentions of alcohol/drinking, swearing, bit of angst before the end, jaemin’s an asshole... or is he? RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ explicit TAGLIST ⇾‌ @infnteen​ 

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⇾ it’s late (and long fsldkm), srysry but here it is! i hope the humour comes out in this and look away if falls flat zzz fingers crossed that i can finish the last two installments for this collection asap! 

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t repost or share without credit!

Maybe it’s because it’s the evening of Christmas Eve Eve and you’re feeling more lonely than usual.

Maybe it’s due to the two glasses of wine you guzzled down in the span of fifteen minutes that get you buzzed.

Maybe it’s your prominent six-month dry spell and you’re in desperate need for some much needed rain in your drought.    

Or maybe it’s just pure impulsiveness.

Regardless of the reasons, you’re aiming to get laid tonight.  

It’s 9:45pm as you make the rounds on Tinder. You’ve used it in the past, searching for a relationship in vain, but haven’t used it much since you broke up with your last partner. Bringing the app alive again, you’re already bombarded by distasteful messages, off-putting one-liners and jokes, and swiping left more than you’d like.

You haven’t had a one-night stand before, but isn’t there anyone on here that is just a little bit attractive, nearby where you are, around your age, and is somewhat chivalrous about the topic besides saying DTF? Maybe you need to lower your standards if you want to get dicked down tonight.

But then, you land on him.

One Na Jaemin, 20 years old, and only four miles away from you.

Scrolling through his profile pictures and Instagram feed, you assume that he’s into photography, is on the athletic side from the various hobbies he partakes in, and he must be at least half-aware of his beauty because there’s the occasional pic that shows off his lean, toned arms, which, if you can be frank, is more flattering than the shirtless ones you constantly see. Oh, and he attends the same university as you.

The cherry on top? His bio is simple and upfront:

“Not up for anything serious, but always down for a good time ;)”

You swipe right without hesitation.

“It’s a Match!” flashes instantly at you. Your mouth swings open in disbelief.  

Usually, you’d wait for your matches to message you and play hard-to-get, but not tonight. Tonight, you’re initiating and leading all the conversations, completely driven by your thirst.  

Messaging Jaemin is a breeze. He types with more than half a brain, and he flirts, but it isn’t overwhelming or repulsive. Segueing the current topic, you drag your bottom lip upward as you send the following message:  

so, hypothetically... if one were to have good time with you would tonight work?

Not even twenty seconds later and he replies with:

-wow, dont you go straight to the point -im impressed -but yeah -tonight works ;)

He’s quick to send his address.

-let me know when ur here and ill come get you out front!

Smacking your lips together, you squeal to yourself in the comfort of your home, excited to meet with him, but then a thought hangs over you—this feels a little too good to be true. Horrible scenarios run through your head, so your fingers dash across your phone’s keyboard:

tbh i haven’t really done this b4 so im kinda new to this is it ok if we video call or smth? gotta make sure you’re real and not a serial killer i’m sure you understand 😛

-for sure for sure -totally get it -ive had my fair share of fake girls and serial killers so i feel u 😛

Grateful for his consideration, you rush to rearrange your hair after you send him a Zoom link, hoping you look decent enough to not have him back off from his initial offer. He appears in the video call on his phone with the front-facing camera on a few seconds after you connect.

“Hi,” you chirp.

A corner of his mouth lifts. “Hey.”  

Okay, he’s definitely cuter in real-time than in his pictures.  

“You know, I’m not gonna lie, but I lowkey expected to see a dick or something,” you joke in an attempt to dispel your nervousness.  

“Same,” he chuckles, running a hand through his black hair.

Oh God, he’s not just cute—he’s devastatingly gorgeous.

“So, this is my place...”

Jaemin moves around with his apartment in the background, revealing his living room first. Envy prods you as you note the brick walls, high ceiling windows, and well-appointed furnishings.

Recalling his address, you ask, “How’d you get a place in the heart of the city?”

“Lucked out,” he shrugs. His phone shakes a bit as he’s still moving. “My friend slash roommate—who is at his girlfriend’s place tonight, so we have the place all to ourselves—his parents own the condo and they gave me a friend discount on the rent.”

He finally stands in one place and turns the light on to reveal a room. “And this is my bedroom.”

Nothing out of the ordinary. A desk table with a gaming set-up, in tow with a gamer chair, and a decently-sized bed beside a nightstand.

“Oh, and here’s my closet.” Jaemin’s on the move again as he opens his closet doors. “Just to make sure you don’t think I hide the skins of my past one-nighters in here.”

A bubbly laugh rises from you. “Okay, I didn’t think of that before, but now you’ve planted the seed in my head. Maybe you hide them in the other rooms.”

“Nah, my roommate would kill me if I did.”

Both of you laugh in unison, and you bob your head with puffed cheeks.  

“Okay, it all seems very promising. I’m going to get ready and I’ll guess I’ll see you in a bit, Jaemin.”

“Sounds good,” Jaemin nods, then winks. Although you’re sitting down, he’s still able to get you weak in the knees. “See you soon.”

You end the call and rush to bundle up for the snow starting to come down outside. A twenty-minute train ride later, you’re at the front door of a rustic, industrial apartment complex. After informing Jaemin you’re outside, you glance up at the snowflakes falling from the dark pink-grey sky, anticipating for what comes next.

Sex with a hot guy, what can go wrong?  

So, you must’ve jinxed it because the sex is...  

Unsatisfying. Finished faster than you’d like it to be. Sadly, overall disappointing. If you had to rate it, three out of five stars, at best.

But hey, he came, and you sort of did, and it wasn’t the worst sex you’ve ever had. It half-quenched your dry spell.

And enough happened that it tired you out, leaving you passed out in the handsome stranger’s bed until morning.

In the morning, your eyes slowly flicker, unused to the foreign, sweet scent engulfing you in your bed. Correction: Jaemin’s bed.

Your eyes flicker faster as you glance through the almost wall-sized window. The snow hasn’t let up from last night. On the contrary, it seems like it’s snowing non-stop. You groan at the thought of going home in this weather.

The bed is without Jaemin’s presence as you reach for your phone on the nightstand. 10:36AM and a few notifications greet you. You rub your eyes and start combing through them, rising upward to sit up on the bed.

“Morning. You’re finally up.”

Peering up from your device, Jaemin’s standing by the door with folded arms. His plain sweater and sweatpants match the colour of his hair. The dazzling smile he gives is so contagious, you’re not even conscious of catching one too.  

“Out you go.”

You blink.

Once, twice, and then you tilt your head as you stare blankly at him, uncertain if you heard him correctly.

After a few moments, because you’re not moving an inch, his smile dissipates and he cocks an eyebrow in expectancy. A serious expression rolls over his face.  

Suddenly, Jaemin strolls to the side of the bed and hitches his thumb towards the door.

You definitely heard him right.

And he’s dead-serious.

You replay the video call from last night, dissecting how you thought he was nice and funny and—

Realization dawns on you.

Why would you expect anything more from a two-faced fuck boy?

Still awestruck by the situation, you’re still solid as a statue, so Jaemin takes matters into his own hands and grasps you by your elbow, casually dragging you from his bed like he’s taking out the trash.  

“What the fuck?!” you screech.

“C’mon, let’s go. Out out.”

“My clothes, though!” you protest in the middle of the hallway. He sighs in frustration, scurries to the bedroom, and returns with a small pile in his arms, then continues to drag you to the front door.  

“Are you always this pleasant with your guests the morning after?” you rage, putting on the rest of your clothes by the door. “You don’t even have the decency to offer me tea or coffee?”

“This was a one-night stand, not a bed and breakfast, sunshine,” he says as he watches you put your shoes on. He’s folding his arms again and leaning against the wall, his attitude dripping with smug. If he wasn’t a stranger, you’d punch it off his face. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were new to this, huh?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

“It means you’re a borderline virgin who needs to toodle-loo, get going and gone because you’re overstaying your welcome as we speak.”

Finishing putting on your coat, you’re fuming as your jaw hangs at the personal jab over your skills in bed. Jaemin swings the door open and shoves you through it.

“But I’ll admit, it was still nice having sex with you!” he chimes with a sickening grin and a hand on the door.  

“Aw, thanks asshole, wish I could say the same,” you sarcastically reply, resting a palm upon your chest.  

He scoffs. “From what I heard last night, I think I can confidently say that you had a great time.”

Flashbacks replay in your mind of your screaming fest from underneath him. Little did Jaemin actually know—

“You know, for someone who I assume has many one-night stands,” you spit with squinted eyes. “I’m surprised you can’t tell when girls fake it.”

You must’ve hit a sore spot because he grinds his teeth and you could almost see the steam coming out of his ears.

Oh yeah, you’re definitely the winner in this fight.

“Okay, you know what, Merry Christmas and fuck you. Have a great life!”

“Fuck you, dickface. Wishing you a miserable Christmas!”

With a bitter smile, you flip him off as he slams the door in your face.

Carrying a basket filled with dirty clothes, Jaemin’s on the way down to the laundry room in the basement of his apartment with his shoulder scrunched up, squeezing his phone to his ear.

“Bro, she had the audacity to say that I didn’t make her come when she was screaming my God damn ear off—”

As he steps down the short flight of stairs and passes by the foyer area by the main entrance to the building, he notices you’re still here.

“Shit, uh, Jeno,” he mumbles. “I’m gonna have to call you back.”

He stuffs his phone into the pocket of his sweats and calls out to you as he strides closer. “Are you resorting to stalking me by my front door now?”

With crossed arms, you peer over your shoulder, eyes full of bitterness.

“Like I wanna be anywhere near you right now,” you grumble. You jerk your head towards the thick, wooden door. “It’s jammed from the snow.”

The laundry carrier shakes his head and places the basket onto the floor. “A little snow never hurt anyone. You’re probably just too weak.”

Stepping aside and holding out an arm, you signal for him to give it a try.

Jaemin twists the handle and, lo and behold, it doesn’t open. His forehead crinkles as he tries again and again, using more force each time.

Glancing through one of the partially frosted windows adjacent to the sides of the door, he notices the snow has piled enormously high, almost to the height of his chest.

“Well, shit.”  

Reluctantly, Jaemin brings you back to his apartment. You’re technically his guest and if he left you in the foyer to freeze, trouble would surely come his way, whether it be in the form of his landlords (also known as his roommate’s parents) or the police.

Without a word, he settles a spoon in a bowl, a carton of milk, and a box of cereal onto the small kitchen table.

At first, you stare at it venomously in rejection, thinking you can easily last a day without any hand-outs from this son of a bitch, but your stomach roars ferociously three seconds later.

As you chew across from him, you enjoy the company of your phone over him, while he does the same but with a cup of coffee in hand.

After finishing your food, you adamantly place your phone down and lean back into the chair, boring holes into his head.

“Why are you such an asshole?” you seethe observantly.

“Why are you such a bitch?” he retorts, not pulling his gaze away from his phone.

“Because you started it,” you say slowly, stating the obvious.

“No, you.”

You sigh defeatedly at his childish behaviour. The weather apps predict the snow will (hopefully) die down by tomorrow morning, thus you’re officially stuck with him for the next twenty-four hours or so. Your hands rake through your hair.

“Whether we like it or not, the snow isn’t going away until tomorrow. Merry Christmas Eve to us, I guess.”

He’s still glued to his phone. You exhale another sigh.

“Since we’re not getting out of this until then, can we just...” You soften your voice. “Start over?”

His eyes are still on the screen, but from the way his shoulders tense and how he stops scrolling, you know he’s considering your proposition.

“At least call a stalemate over this.” You drift your hand in the air, gesturing between you and him.

Blowing out air and shaking his head, he rests his phone onto the table.

“Fine.”

He crosses his arms, imitating you, and the two of you sit there, staring at each other in a long silence.  

One minute, to be exact.

You’re the one to break the silence game by running your hands over your face, letting out a hybrid of a groan and laugh.

“God, the fact that we had sex makes this kinda awkward, huh?”

Jaemin’s exterior melts slightly, letting out a snicker. He shrugs, “Then let’s just pretend that we didn’t have sex.”

“We can’t just pretend that we didn’t have sex,” you say, holding two upturned palms near your face.

“We did it, it’s done. I’ve seen your penis, you kicked me out, and you labelled me a prude—” You dart a finger towards him. “—which I am far from, by the way. All of those are pretty huge things.”

One of the corners of his mouth raises high. “Are you saying my penis is huge?”

“No, the implication of said penis is huge. Wipe that smirk off your face.”

He stretches an arm, holding an imaginary microphone to your face. “Do you deny that my penis is huge?”

Rolling your eyes, you swat his fist away. “What am I, on trial here?”

“Do you plead the fifth then?”

Annoyed, you roll your eyes again. Why do you get the feeling that you’re probably going to be doing this a lot more today? Another feeling tells you that if you don’t answer his question, he’ll probably pester you until you do.

You tilt your head side to side. “It’s... decently sized.”

“Bigger or smaller than average?”

“Perfect...” His eyes light up. “...ly average.” And a frown rolls over.

He squints his eyes accusingly at your sneer. “Are you lying like you did before about faking it?”

You scoff. “I wasn’t lying about faking it, and I’m not lying now about your average sized dick.”

Jaemin releases a disgruntled grumble and lifts his cup to his face. You notice he likes to take his coffee black and bitter, presumably like his heart.

“So, Miss I’m-Not-A-Prude-and-I’ve-Definitely-Had-Sex-Before.” His eyebrows perk up on the word definitely. “What’s your story? Why the last minute one-night stand?”

Shrugging your shoulders to your ears, you reply, “Haven’t had sex in a while.”

“When’s the last time you had sex?” he asks mid-sip.

“Half a year ago,” you respond nonchalantly, perching your chin into your palms.

Jaemin immediately chokes, almost spraying the coffee through his nose.

“Half a year?!” he gasps. It takes him a few hits to his chest to dispel the coughing. “Six months?!”

“Wow, you can count!” you exclaim in a condescending tone. You change the position of your hands so that your chin is now atop of the back of your curled fingers and tilt your head. “Can you also spell?”

“As a premed student, I can assure you that I am capable of doing both,” he says with a slight strain due to the coughing fit. The humble brag brings on another eye roll. Of course he’s a premed student with the attitude he wears.

“It’s just—” He clears his throat and swallows the last bit of coffee stuck in his windpipe. “—The last time I had a dry spell was for like, a month, tops.”

So the fuckboy gets laid way more on the daily than you expect. You’re torn between being envious over how much action he gets in comparison to you, or remorseful, since you’re now just one of the many notches on his bedpost.

No matter, sarcasm is always the best defence mechanism.

“Good for you, Jaemin. I’m sure you’re very proud of that.”

There’s an awkward beat. His head hangs for a moment while his thumbs stroke the sides of his cup. A strange pinch of guilt occurs. Did you overstep an unspoken line? But then he drags himself back to reality in a heartbeat.

Jaemin brings the cup to his mouth again, mumbling, “At least the sex on your part makes more sense now; you’re rusty as fuck.”

Completely aware of what he said, you trash your guilt entirely and narrow your eyes. “What did you just say?”

Following a long sip, he hums, “Mmm, nothing.” Soon after, he stands up with his cup.

“I’m gonna go game now. Feel free to watch Netflix on the TV and stay in the living room.”

As if you had anywhere else to go...  

He begins to walk towards his room as you mutter under your breath, “I’m not a dog.”

“Says the bitch,” he pipes up, taking you by surprise.  

“Thought we had a stalemate?!” you shout, leaning your head forward as you watch him entering his room.  

“Doesn’t mean we’re on peaceful terms!” he sing-shouts.

The flinging of the closed door echoes throughout the apartment.

Regret surges through you. You just had to choose a fuckboy fluent in assholery and end up incidentally being isolated with him during a snow storm on Christmas Eve.

You wonder if you can handle being around him for the next twenty-four hours without killing him first.

During the afternoon, you’re on the living room couch, playing a show as mostly background noise while you’re on your phone. At one point, your phone unsurprisingly begins to die and you tread over to Jaemin’s door to ask for a charger and if you can also take a shower. He’s still annoyed by your existence, but at least he hands you a charger and lets you know where the extra towels are.

Stepping into the living room with the towel in your hand as you dry your hair off, you peer out the large living room window and see nothing but white engulfing the streets and buildings as far as the eye can see.

You pray the snow will eventually stop as soon as possible so you can head back home.

By the middle of the afternoon, Jaemin emerges from his bedroom and shocks you by plopping down on the opposite end of the living room couch from where you’re sitting.

“Bored?” you ask, eyes fixated on the TV screen.

“Nope,” he replies, popping the p as he says it. His slings his arm around the top of the couch.

“Gotta keep an eye on you in case you do something.” Turning away from the screen, he faces you and motions circles with his hand. “You’ve got a little crazy in you, I can feel it.”

You quickly glance over at him, but try to refocus on the TV. “Need I remind you that you’re the crazy one, dragging me out of the apartment right as I woke up.”

That compels him to turn his whole body towards you. “Well, you’re the one who wanted a last-minute one-night stand.”

You match his stance. “As if I’m the first girl in your bed to stay in the morning?”

“Actually, yeah.” He aggressively tilts his head to one side. “Most girls leave before I even get up. The other percentage don’t fight me when I ask for them to go, so it looks like you’re the odd one out.”  

You press your lips together, refusing to admit that maybe he has a point, under the assumption that he’s telling the truth.

Jaemin twists his body back to the screen and adds, “I make it very clear on my profile that I don’t do morning afters, sweetheart.”

And you agree that his profile is clear about his intentions, but that doesn’t mean you can condone his shitty behaviour.

“Well, sorry that I expected just an ounce of respect instead of getting kicked to the curb after you stuck your dick in me,” you grumble, shifting back to the show and crossing your arms.

“Morning afters lead to attachments, and attachments lead to feelings, and feelings lead to relationships,” he says the string of words clinically, as if it’s a mantra that he lives by.

Your eyebrows knit together as you whip your head towards him once more, studying him.

“And what’s so wrong with that?”

Deliberately averting your gaze, Jaemin grates his tongue between his teeth, a slight tsk audibly heard, and his chin juts out. There’s definitely a story behind his ways. He huffs and changes the subject.  

“Seriously?” He holds a hand out. “You’re watching this trashy show?”

Squinting your eyes at him, you could probably interrogate him further, but you decide otherwise.  

“It may be trashy,” you concur, looking at the TV. “But it’s my trashy comfort show.”

Following an over-the-top acted out scene between the show’s main love interests, Jaemin shoots up from the couch.

“Yeah, no, I can’t handle this. Can we either put on something else or game or something?”

“Why don’t you go back to your room to game, Mr. I’m-Not-Bored?”

“Like I said, I gotta keep an eye on you,” he says while bending over in front of the TV, already setting up the Playstation. He tosses you a controller as he strides to his side of the couch again.

He mumbles to himself, “Need to make sure you don’t go crazy from the lack of human interaction.”

Either Jaemin is selfish and only looking out for himself, or he wants to make sure you’re not feeling lonely in a stranger’s home.

Likely the first reason, you deduce—because why would a guy like Jaemin care about a mere one-night stand?

Admittedly, you’re not the best at games, especially at fighting ones. You can comprehend the move lists, but you like to live by button smashing the controller and repeating moves over and over.  

So it’s hilarious when you beat Jaemin every round with your surprisingly fruitful technique.

“Okay, this is bullshit,” Jaemin complains, sticking his tongue out in irritation. His ass is currently being handed to him on a plate again since you’re almost done killing his character off. “You must be lying to me; you have to be a pro player or some shit.”

Jaemin’s health bar is dangerously low as your character jabs his with a sword. He winces out loud and you snicker.

“Why do you think I always lie about everything?! Dude, you have serious trust issues,” you joke before you steal the opportunity to slice his character. One more hit and he’s done for.

“I do not! I just—nooo!”

You rise to your feet and pump your arms in the air, turning in circles in joy over yet another win.

Sulking, Jaemin eyes your little dance from his end on the couch, but as he watches you more, a feeling balloons in his chest. Something he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Finally coming down from your post-win high, you spot an emerging grin from the corner of your eye, making you pause.    

“What?” you eye him suspiciously.

Your suspicion pops the sensation in his chest and, like a fish out of water, his eyes widen and his grin melts away.

“Nothing, uhm.” He ruffles his eyebrows and palms the back of his neck, quickly facing the TV. “Let’s go one more round and then we can switch to another game—”

Suddenly, the TV and surrounding lights switch off. Both of you waver your eyes, anticipating for them to come back on, but they unfortunately don’t.  

Jaemin rushes over to the window. When he swivels his head towards you, his face darkens.

“Looks like it’s at least the whole block. The streetlights are out too.”

Without another word, he dashes to the linen closet and brings back several blankets. He calmly explains that there won’t be heat since it’s connected to the electricity, so it’d be best to keep warm with the extra layers.

Not wanting to scare you, he doesn’t add the fact that due to the huge windows in the apartment, more unnecessary cold air will come in, but you’re already cognizant of it from your own logic and since the remaining heat dissolves rapidly.

You groan and retreat into the massive blanket over your shoulders, turtling your head.

You can’t believe you’re going to fucking die in this asshole’s apartment on Christmas Eve.

On the ends of the couch in your makeshift blanket jackets, both of you attend to your phones for a while.

From what people and the news outlets are saying, it’s not just the block, but the whole city grid is out. You frantically text your friends, giving updates on how you are and half-jokingly telling them that you’re going to die with your dreadful one-night stand. Some time passes and Jaemin tosses his phone  off to one side.  

“Well, since there’s nothing else to do and we should probably conserve our phone batteries—” You glance up at him from your phone and pout. Slowly nodding in agreement, you toss it aside too. “—why don’t we play a game of ‘I’ll-Give-You-Pointers-on-How-to-be-Better-in-Bed’?”

A smile burgeons on his irritatingly handsome face and your eyes roll. At this point, you wonder if the reaction is conditioned into you. “It’ll be my early Christmas gift to you.”

“Wow, so thoughtful, how could I ever thank you?” You drag the blanket closer to your chest in false gratitude.

You think for a serious moment if you really want to go through with this. Hearing Jaemin run his mouth on you unwarranted is already painful, but to give him the go-ahead to do so? Especially criticizing your skills in bed?  

You blow out a sigh, noting the slightly visible cloud. You’re grateful Jaemin has thick, downy blankets.  

Well, if you’re going to die, may as well know what went wrong, right?

“Fine, but if we’re playing this game, we have to say everything honestly and take the criticism we get.” You point a stern finger. “No rebuttals, just acceptance.”

“Wait.” Jaemin crinkles his face in genuine confusion as his hand peeks out from his blanket.

“You have things to criticize about me in bed?”

Your lips tremble before you burst into laughter. Displeasure is on Jaemin’s tight-lipped face as you laugh for a while, almost keeling over in your blanket ball onto the hardwood floor. “How conceited are you, oh, my fucking God?”

He slices his hand through the air. “I’ve never had any complaints—”

“Because you’re too busy focusing on your own orgasm, you selfish dickwad,” you say as your laughter dies down.  

He sits in his snit for a few more moments until he gets over it.

“Fine, fine,” he huffs. Jaemin knows he’s not going to enjoy this, but he’s the one who suggested it. He can’t back out now. “Let’s just get this over with, you go first.”

With your blanket held by your chest, you hop off your end of the couch and shuffle over in front of him where he’s seated. Beaming, you begin.

“Let’s start with foreplay.” Jaemin’s eyes light up with confidence, thinking he’s at least decent with that. You crush his expression as your lips purse and you shake your head.

“Non-existent.”

“What do you mean?! I kissed you as you took off your clothes.”

You stick your free hand out from your blanket, extending your index finger.

“One: you only kissed my lips. You know, there are other parts of me to kiss, like, I don’t know, my neck, my arms, my shoulders.”

You extend another finger. “And, two: it’s weird to not help someone take off their clothes. Like you’re in a super rush to get somewhere or something—”

“We’re fucking!” he cuts in sharply. “This is a one-night stand, not a relationship.”

Closing your eyes and dropping your head, you pinch the bridge of your nose. You sigh in exaggeration.

“Thought we agreed no rebuttals...” you softly sing-say.  

Jaemin’s head sinks a little into his blanket. “Sorry.”

Removing your hand, you shrug. “Maybe there’s some rule that I don’t know about one-night stands, so this could be on me.”

You start to aimlessly tread back and forth in front of him, dragging the blanket along too. “But fuck, foreplay is foreplay for a reason. You work your way up to the heat of the moment and it makes sex much better, regardless if you’re in a relationship with the person or not.”

“Next point.” You stop walking and direct your focus on him. Pointing your finger and looking him dead in the eye, you ask, “Do you know what a vagina is?”

He snorts with a simper. “Uhhh, is this a rhetorical question?”

“No, I’m legit asking,” you say with a raised eyebrow and snarky smile. “Because when you went down on me, all you flicked your tongue at was the outside of it, also called the labia if you didn’t know.”

“I’m premed, of course I—”

“Which is great! But you didn’t go any deeper nor did you go near my clit.”

You thrust your finger again. “Do you also know what that is?”

“Yes...” he groans with the flickering eyelids.

You swipe your arm through the air. “Maybe make use of it, and not only when you go down on girls. Even during sex, touching it is great.”

“And lastly,” you continue. “I’ll be honest here, you have a decent dick.”

Jaemin waggles his finger. “So you were lying before—”

“I wasn’t lying,” you retort firmly. “But anyways, you’ve got the stuff, but why don’t you put it to better use?”

With the following words, you attempt to gesture with your body and execute moves as graphic visuals. Jaemin giggles at the sight.

“Vary the speeds and the angle, don’t just slam it in me and go crazy fast from the get-go. Build up to the climax. Jesus, I couldn’t even get close to coming because you’re like a jackhammer from start to finish.”

When you finally finish, Jaemin’s giggles morph into hollow laughs. Frustration is blatant on your face, pondering if he even absorbed a single word you said.  

After he calms down, he asks, “Are you done?”

You mumble, “Yeah, I think so.”

The two of you switch places. He shuffles onto his feet with his blanket while you sit back on the couch.

Jaemin pulls the blanket across the floor as he ambles. “Okay, your head game is decent—”

“Excuse you, my head game is strong.”

“Uh-uh, rebuttal,” he points out.  

You sigh. Pinching your fingers together, you drag the invisible zipper across your mouth, then wave your hand, allowing him to resume.

“Your head game is decent. You definitely can deepthroat, but—” He mirrors you from before and extends his index finger.

“One: this happened only a few times, but your teeth scraped against my dick, which is why I assumed you were a borderline virgin.”

You fume silently at the accusation, attempting to not speak up with a heap of rebuttals. But he wasn’t wrong—if you teethed on his dick, that’s a classic virgin move.

“But that’s okay, because we already established that you’re just rusty.” Jaemin flashes you a fake comforting smile as he continues to pace. You flash him one back.

“And two—” He holds another finger out. “Don’t be scared to use your hands and stroke me. Give my dick some love. If it’s too wet, just wipe your hands on the bed or something.”

“Okay, duly noted,” you hum. “Next.”

“Don’t be scared to touch me.”

“I touched you so much during—”

He shoots you a glare. You roll your mouth inward, your lips disappearing instantly.

“Your hands were mostly on the sheets, which is hot, but guys like to be felt up too.”

The attractive individual peers up for a second, thinking to himself. “Even hotter when a girl feels herself up during the fucking, but that’s beside the point. Baby steps, just remember to touch the other person.”

Jaemin does a full-stop and faces you.

“And just... don’t fake it.” Distress is evident in his pout. You hate to admit it, but it’s a little cute. He raises an arm and jerks it in the air. “Why do girls fake it?”

“Because guys with egos like you can’t handle criticism,” you reply bluntly.  

“What are we doing, having this conversation, hm?”

“We wouldn’t be having this conversation if it didn’t snow in and keep us here together.” You peel a hand away and gesture to the window. “If I walked out of here this morning, you would’ve just fucked the next girl the same.”

He defends himself, “Faking it just feeds our egos.”

“Yeah, well, if I told you afterwards that I didn’t come, what would you do?”

“Try to make you come in other ways?”

Shaking your head, you scoff. “Guys like you aren’t that considerate.”

“You’re right.” He assents, holding his pointer finger against his chest. “Because guys like me aim to please.”

A brilliant thought leaps in his mind and Jaemin gasps. You can only assume bad things from the wicked smile he sends your way.  

“Why don’t we try it again?”

Perplexed, you squint at him.

“Try what again...?”

“Sex,” he says enthusiastically.

You blankly stare at him.

“You’ve gotta be joking,” you deadpan.

“I mean, there’s nothing else to do and it’ll keep us warm.” 

You continue to stare at him until you groan.

“Oh, my God...” Your blanket droops a bit off your shoulders as you drag your palms across your face. “I cannot believe I’m stuck in this snowstorm with you out of all people...”

Sitting next to you, Jaemin persistently reasons with you. “Think of it also as another learning experience for the future partners we’ll have.”

“Yeah, if we don’t die first!” you shriek.

“We’re not going to die,” Jaemin replies in a mocking tone and a dart of his tongue.  

Outside the window, the snow seems to have slowed down, but not by much.  

God, Jaemin better be fucking right because you want to live to see another day.  

“Fine,” you mutter and match his gaze. “But we have to be vocal throughout the whole thing. Say whatever’s on our mind.”

“Fine,” he agrees to your terms. He produces the same wicked smile again. “But can we film it then? So we can study it after?”

You fire him a death glare that melts his face off, even in the frigid atmosphere.

“I’m joking, I’m joking,” he says, waving his hand.

They say that jokes are half-meant true, but you think Jaemin fully meant it. Still in your blanket jackets, Jaemin snags your free hand and leads you to his room.

“You gotta give me credit for trying, though.”

“No.” You shake your head with an unwilling smile creeping on the edge of your lips. On second thought, maybe the joke was a little funny, but you still stand by your opinion that he’s the most annoying person in the world. “I don’t think I will.”

“Thank God Chenle has so many scented candles...”

On the edge of Jaemin’s bed, huddled by the blanket, you watch him light up several large jars, placing them on his nightstand and desk in hopes to brighten the room. It’s already late afternoon, but one could mistaken it for nighttime with the muddy sky due to the snow.

“Is Chenle your roommate?”

“Yeah,” Jaemin answers with a slight shiver, igniting the last candle near the bedside. He removed his blanket when he went to nab the matches and candles. “His girlfriend gets free ones from work, so she always gives him a shit ton, even though he never uses them.”

With a glowing hue against his face, he blows out the match. He makes his way to you, a cocky grin plastered on him, as he says, “Guess we’re making use of them now, though.”

Before you can even respond, Jaemin gets right down to business—sitting beside you on the mattress, he palms your face and drags you in for a kiss. You softly yelp, but immediately reciprocate.

The cover falls off your body as you reach to touch him, fingers drifting over his solid arms.

You don’t want to stroke his large ego, and maybe it’s because you haven’t had anyone else on you in a while, but Jaemin’s kisses are something else.

The cushiony pair of lips always executes enough pressure against your mouth, increasing and decreasing on command in perfect tandem and timing. His hands hover over your waist and the nape of your neck, fingers sinking into your hot skin.  

His mouth trails downward the side of your neck. You crane your head back, indulging in his caresses as soft moans trickle out.

He gently signals for you to recline back and lay onto the mattress, moving the sea of blankets aside. Inclined on his elbow, almost atop of you, his cool fingers glide under your top layers, his thumb stroking against your stomach.

Pulling away from your body, he tugs on the ends of your clothes. You rise from the bed to better the angle for him to discard of them.

The hairs on your skin are standing on end from the frigid air, but you’re too focused on Jaemin’s mouth migrating over your upper arm and your bra-covered chest to care. Without notice, he stuffs a cup of the bra to one side and takes your bosom into his mouth.

Air’s seized from your lungs and your core contracts from the pleasure. Your fingers tug on Jaemin’s luscious locks and his free hand squeezes your unoccupied breast.    

After a few twirls of his tongue and a gentle drawing of his teeth on the pointed tip, he mumbles hotly into your chest while he thumbs your other nipple, “Foreplay still non-existent?”

“It’s better, I guess,” you sigh with fluttering eyes. His chuckling reverberates against your cleavage, a sign of amusement from your obstinacy. A gasp pierces the room as Jaemin repeats his actions onto the other breast.

He aids you in taking off the rest of your clothes and, obviously aware of your goosebumps and shuddering, tells you to get underneath the blankets while he strips himself.

Under the toasty ocean of layers, despite how both of you are bare-boned and how easy it is to jump into the main act, Jaemin purposefully continues to prolong the foreplay. Side by side, your lips meld endlessly; your legs and hands are intertwined in an amorous pretzel.

Jaemin ensures he doesn’t leave any part of you untouched—the pads of fingers virtually graze over every inch of your body. Each grip and drag of his digits sends you in a frenzy. Your chest is pressed into him and your eyes are blinded with desire.

In the back of your mind, you think about how you were right about foreplay working up to the heat of the moment—literally, because you’re dripping, he’s hard, and you two have embraced so much that you don’t need the blankets anymore.  

On the other hand, you wonder if Jaemin was right about skipping foreplay, because with every whisper of each other’s name, the intimacy rises immensely. You don’t know him, and neither him with you, but you’re both freely drowning in one another in a plane beyond the lust.

Although the room’s beginning to smell of a mix of all the scented candles, Jaemin hones in and drinks in your sweet aroma and your entirety behind his hazy eyes and already tousled hair. All of a sudden, one drag of his fingers over a particular sensitive spot on your body makes you giggle.

“I’m ticklish over there.”

“You mean right—” He drums his fingers over the area again. “—here?”

With a toothy grin, he generates more suffering from you and you begin to lively howl. Soon enough, you beg him to stop.

“You’re such an asshat, c’mon, let me live!”

When he ceases, his head hangs over yours and your gazes connect.

The same feeling blooms in his chest from before in the living room.

He gulps as his eyes waver over your face, unknowingly tracing your beautiful features and etching them into his memory.

Your starry eyes. Your glowing aura. Your everything.

You barely register the change in his expression because he quickly tramples on his moment of weakness by kissing you passionately.

Jaemin whips the blankets aside as he lowers himself between your legs. Your eyes are fixated on him, matching his stare, until he starts to devour you by swiping against your lustrous folds. Your back bows, and, following a few more licks, Jaemin makes a point of his knowledge of the vagina by spreading your lips and ravishing your pussy, tongue penetrating deeply.

Rippled moans release in harmony with your undulating chest. You swear you’re getting more wet, too wet, likely making it overwhelming for Jaemin, but he’s eagerly lapping every drop up.  

“How’s that?” he inquires with a grin, hovering over your trembling nether lips. His mouth is evidently glossy, even under the dim lighting.

“Good,” you pant in the most nonchalant tone you can muster up. “Very good-ahhh—”

Jaemin kindly interrupts you by tonguing your clit as he fingers your sex deeply, shattering your fake indifference.

“Move your tongue up more,” you direct, creasing your eyebrows in despair. He follows your direction, and droning moans ensue.

Jaemin’s immersed in your pleasure, but also adding to his own. The more he laps up your wetness, the more he grinds his length against the bed, aching to be inside of you.

Your desire pulses faster, contracting tighter against his fingers, body winding tensely by the second.

“Fuck, Jaemin,” you whine, leaning your head to one side with a parted mouth. “I’m close.”

He draws back and temporarily replaces his tongue with his thumb.

“Good,” he pants, cocking his head to one side. His eyes are filled with determination. “Because I’m not stopping until you come at least two more times tonight.”

You exhale a light laugh. “That’s ambiti-ohgodohgod—”

His tongue works wonders on your clit once more, so much that he has to brace your bucking hips.

Okay, maybe Jaemin did learn a thing or two and actually listened to what you said during your critique.

But now it’s time to demonstrate to him what you’ve learned.

You don’t need much of a break to catch your breath, nor do you want to immediately freeze due to inactivity, so you pull Jaemin in for an intense kiss, tongue dipping into the remnants of your own nectar, then beckon for him to take your former place on the bed.

Perched on the bottom of your feet, you’re on one side of Jaemin, lackadaisically fisting his prominence. After a few strokes, you gradually swallow his inches, keeping in mind to relax your jaw and to not rush in order to avoid any potential teething. You do this to prove yourself worthy of giving head, but also in spite, because you absolutely do not need Jaemin to brand you a virgin again.  

You read his quiet groans and his long fingers running lazily through your hair as a positive sign and advance further.

Carefully, you rest your tongue beneath the underside of his cock and bob your head, licking him until he’s sopping with your saliva. His grip in your hair grows in strength as his length reaches the end of your throat, his groans becoming more and more drawn-out.

A needy whimper leaves him as you suddenly withdraw. Dribbles of your spit follow, and you wipe it off with the back of your hand.  

“How am I doing?” you glow in a pant, lazily stroking the doused shaft.

He simply nods with half-lidded eyes, barely able to look at you. “Yeah.”

You snicker at him in his breathless position, a prickle of pride running through your spine over the fact that you blew his mind as much as you blew his dick.

“Use your words, Jaemin.”

Teasingly, your fingers curl around his blunt head, soothing the sensitive tip and sending jolts throughout him.

“Fuck—” he pulls his bottom lip upward. “Awesome. You’re doing awesome.”

“Anything to critique?”

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head restlessly. You revel a bit more in having the upper hand on him a little while longer. You grip him tighter and hasten your speed, leaving him gasping for air.

“Am I still rusty?”

“Nope, nope,” he croaks, voice rising to a whine. “Definitely not rusty.”

“You sure?” His cockiness has transferred over to you.

“Yes, yes—fuck, slow down, please,” Jaemin begs.    

Granting his wish, you abate your rhythm and free his inches from your touch.

You wipe your hands on the sides of the bed while Jaemin rummages through the drawer of his nightstand and hastily rolls over the rubber over himself before he prepares to enter the body beneath his.  

Recalling your advice, Jaemin mindfully starts off slow. You sigh blissfully in sync to his thrusts. He adjust himself, attempting another angle, and you draw in air between your teeth.

“There, there—“

Jaemin’s quick-witted and keeps at it, plunging a bit more vigorously. Out of habit, your hands grasp onto the bedsheets, but you wittingly attach them to his frame. Hands grazing his neck, his firm pecs, and his taut muscles.  

“Touch-touch my stomach,” he orders in a hush.

You hands follow through and feel up the flexed valley of his abs. Feeling up evolves into desperate gripping and even the slight dragging of your nails.

“Your abs are so fucking hot,” you state thoughtlessly, eyes eating up the view alongside his cock disappearing in and out of you. “Jesus, fuck.”

“Yeah?” he rasps with that devilish smirk of his. God, you want to smack it off him, but not right now—not when you’re reaching euphoria. “You’re not just saying that?”

Oh, you’ve definitely stroked his ego now, but there’s no turning back. Truth spills from you on a whim.

“You’re a fucking masterpiece,” you gasp acutely.

You’re starting to wither away, yet, as if they have a life of their own, your hands drift away from him and find a new home atop your breasts.

“You make me feel so good, Jaemin...”

Jaemin’s eyes go wide. His mouth hangs at the lewdness of you touching yourself.

“Fuck, holy shit.”

His gaze doesn’t leave your ecstatic face or humming body for a second as you knead your breasts and tweak your nipples between your fingers. Your back arches further when Jaemin deepens his sweet, fulfilling thrusts. He’s holding himself back, not wanting to end this beautiful deed just yet.

The stimulation bursts over your body, both from your own doing and Jaemin’s.  

You plead, “Faster, please, faster.”

And he complies, but he also rubs your bundle of nerves, causing a tight knot in you to build up and your shallow moans transform into heavy screams. You clasp onto his back and claw at the protruding shoulder blades.  

“I’m-I’m—”

You clench, both with your core and your nails digging into him, but Jaemin’s unrelenting, capturing your second peak for the evening.

Instead of coming after you, he shockingly veers lower and closer to you and curbs his pace.

“Was that real?”

You respond with an exhausted nod. Oddly, the smile he shows this time isn’t arrogant, but warm and teetering the line of tenderness. His lips fuse with yours before they stray towards your neck. The passion stews as he sucks your tits, all the while lunging laxly into you.  

With an obscene pop!, Jaemin removes himself from your nubs.

“Ready for the last round?”

His fast thrusts, hitting you precisely in the best spot, cloud your already weakened logic, deterring you from making any response.    

Perspiration is blatant on both individuals. For him, his forehead glistens gorgeously with his damp hair. For you, the back of your bent knees are gluing together. Your bodies are about to pass out, but you both persevere until the end.

As you convulse and perish together in beautiful agony, coincidentally enough, the bulbs in the room and in the streets leap to radiance.

Together, you collapse onto the bed side by side, panting heavily and laughing.

“Told you we weren’t going to die.”

You turn your head to see Jaemin looking at you with a cheeky grin. In retaliation, you stick your tongue out.

By nighttime, it’s finally stopped snowing outside. However, the streets won’t be cleared until morning, at the very least.

But... you’re surprisingly okay with that.

In a turn of events, the sex inexplicably makes the two of you warm up to each other. There still is targeted banter and tension between you, lingering from before, but it’s less hostile and more playful.

During a fancy Christmas Eve dinner of microwavable pizzas, you poke fun at each other’s majors and discuss your respective hobbies in depth, especially his love for photography. Jaemin even asks if he can take a picture of you, claiming that the kitchen lighting actually looks nice on someone for once.  

“Is that how you collect the memory of your one-night stands? Instead of hanging their skins in your closet, you sweet-talk your way and keep all the photos of them?” you joke, referring to the video call from yesterday night. It feels like an eternity ago, but snowstorms tend to do that.

He chuckles behind the camera as he snaps a photo of you scrunching your face cutely.

“Yeah, but you’re the first one who has clothes on,” he says, glancing down at the photo on the camera roll.  

“Ugh, gross,” you cringe and take a sip of tea.

Jaemin doesn’t add anything further. He leaves out the fact that he never keeps any traces of his one-night stands, that you’re the first girl he’s taken a picture of in a while.  

After a few hours of more talking and even some gaming with one another, sleep is much needed. Jaemin offers an extra toothbrush and a sweater and pair of sweats to sleep in. You’re facing each other on his bed, noses almost touching.  

“It’s been a while since I haven’t had sex with a girl before I slept next to them,” he whispers, adjusting himself comfortably. The side of his face rests on his piled hands. “It’s kinda nice.”

You cover your mouth as you yawn, then lay your hand back under your head, reflecting the same position as Jaemin.

“You know, it might be my sleepiness talking, but maybe you’re not the worst person in the world to be stuck with during a snowstorm.”

A lovely chuckle echoes in your ear. “I’m glad you’ve had a change of heart.”

After a few moments, your eyes are fluttering to a close until he softly calls out your name.

“Hm?” you stir awake, but not by much.

“Do you...?”

Jaemin doesn’t know what’s gotten to him, doesn’t quite understand why the defences he built for so long are crumbling down in only a day of knowing you.  

And yet, something urges him to give it a chance.

Blowing out a shaky sigh, he anxiously intertwines his fingers with yours. You hum softly at the action and a small smile blooms on your face.

“Do you want to go on a date with me sometime?”

“Hm?” His question doesn’t take you aback as much as you would be if you were fully awake. But even in your drowsy state, you have quips in hand. “Jaemin, the notorious fuckboy and serial one-night stander, wants to go on a date?”

“Yeah,” he replies gently, brushing your loose hair out of your face.

Another yawn. “I thought you said you don’t want feelings and relationships and all that shit.”

His fingers trace your pretty jawline and shrugs. “One date doesn’t mean we’re going to be in a relationship, I’m sure you know that.”

You pause for a good two seconds, but the two seconds feel like forever for Jaemin.

“Mmm, fine. One date, just one.” You barely hold up your pointer finger. “And only because it’s Christmas tomorrow. ‘Tis the season to be giving...”

Relief washes over Jaemin in the form of a smile. Embracing the blatant feeling in his chest this time, he plants a light kiss on your nose and wishes you sweet dreams, even though you’ve already fallen soundly asleep.  

Sunlight pours over your eyes on Christmas morning.

Déjà vu peculiarly creeps up on you, but the only thing that’s the same as yesterday is waking up in Jaemin’s bed.

He’s next to you this time, deep in his peaceful slumber, instead of waiting for you to leave by his doorframe. The snow has finally stopped, and you think you hear the faint noises of snow plows outside. You inhale deeply and also notice the faded aroma from all the scented candles from last night.

The scenes of yesterday flicker across your mind. The incredible sex. The talking. The dinner. The interlocking of his fingers with yours.

The date he asked you out on.

You stare at him, watching him sleep with a sense of content.

Turning your body, you routinely check your phone, which is charging beside his. You have a slew of Merry Christmas texts from several chats and a few private messages from your friends.

Your attention falls on Jaemin’s phone when it lights up with a notification, likely texts from his friends and family too.

But that’s not what you’re focusing on.

Your heart sinks at the sight of his lockscreen.

It’s a picture of him and a girl kissing.

A twinge emerges in your chest and twists harder and harder.

Jaemin being a fuckboy, you can respect. People can do whatever they want with their lives.

But to cheat?

That’s unforgivable, and a true sin if there ever was one.

You scramble to dash out of there, careful not to make any noises in fear of waking Jaemin up. However, Jaemin’s sensitive to the sounds of the front door, so he rouses awake. His eyes flit open, noticing how you’re gone. He then sees his phone blowing up and adds two and two together.

With his phone in hand, Jaemin rushes to get on a coat and stuffs his feet into his boots, not giving a shit that he’s wearing his thin pajamas in the coldness. He’s bounding down the flight of stairs and onto the bright, white wonderland of the streets.

He swivels his head and catches sight of you almost past down the block, slowly trekking through the thick snow. Jaemin sprints, as much as he can, and hops towards you.  

He yells your name, making others on the street turn, but you don’t. You continue forward without looking back.

“Wait! I can explain!”

You’re trying to gain speed, but cardio isn’t your friend. Thankfully for Jaemin, it’s a close friend for him.

“I don’t wanna fucking hear it, Jaemin,” you grunt, hearing the rapid crunching of his shoes coming closer. “Get lost.”

“No, listen to me for a second.”

The boyish man grasps you by the arm and turns you around. You throw his arm away from you and he holds his hands in the air, letting you know that he respects your space. He drops his hands and sees that you’re seething, even worse than you were when he kicked you out yesterday.

“How are you going to explain your lockscreen with you kissing your fucking girlfriend?! Hm?”

“Ex,” he pants in clarification. “Ex-girlfriend.”

Your eyebrows mesh together in utter confusion.

“Okay? That doesn’t make me feel any better, knowing that you’re still hung up on your ex.”

Jaemin shakes his head and rakes a hand through his hair. You note the large clouds he exhales and how he’s barely wearing any clothes. A tinge of sympathy passes through you, wanting to give him some of your clothes for extra layers, but you smother that quickly in your state of rage.  

“I’m not hung up on her. Remember you asked me yesterday why I don’t want girls to stay the next morning?”

You cock your head impatiently, as if saying, “Yeah.”

“Well, I don’t want to attach myself to girls. I can’t. I...”

He lowers his head to one side. Shutting his eyes, a long puff emits from his mouth.

“She cheated on me.”

The snow plows in the distance can’t compare to the pumping of your heart in your ears. All the feelings you felt in the last day, but especially in the last fifteen minutes, jumble together in your head, making you feel uneasy and unsure of what to exactly feel or comprehend of the situation.  

But you do know one thing, despite the fact that you two barely know each other, the pained look on his face is real—that this is the untold story behind his ways.  

Jaemin lifts his head and holds out his phone for emphasis. “The lockscreen serves as a constant reminder that dating and feelings will and can fuck me up.”

Carefully, he steps a little closer to you and slowly cups your face in his shaking hands. You don’t pull away nor is there the same anger from moments before, so he daintily runs his thumbs over your cheeks.

“Until you showed me yesterday that maybe I’m willing to give it all another shot. Risk it all for fuck knows what, but you make it look like it’s worth it.”

He continues his ramble after adjusting some of your hair from the ongoing breeze.

“Sure, it’s Christmas today, but I don’t want you to say yes to going on a date with me just because it is. I want you to say yes because maybe you like spending time with me just as much as I like to spend it with you.”

You’re completely disoriented—your eyes are shifting everywhere but his eyes and your lips are quivering with no words coming out. He sighs understandingly. 

“Look, I know you’re probably having second thoughts and you don’t have to give me an answer right now. Think on it for as much time as you need, but I want you to know that I genuinely like you and I want to go on an actual date with you.”

He peels his hand away from your face and raises it into the air as if taking an oath.

“I, Na Jaemin, the notorious fuckboy and serial one-night stander, will devote to monogamy once again if it means I can date you.”

His hands grab yours, kisses the back of them, and then he presses one kiss onto your icy cheek prior to walking away.

“Merry Christmas,” he says with a sad smile. “You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

Later that evening at your large family’s Christmas party, you take another dreadful gulp of your wine.

It’s the happy holiday season, but why does everyone feel the need to stick their nose in your dating life? Well, really, a lack there of.

“Why are you still single?” Layers of their voices resound the same question in your head. You take another swig.

Potential unsaid answers that you kept to yourself fly around as you swish the drink in your glass.  

Because you choose to be.

Okay, not really, but it’s the easiest answer.  

Because you haven’t found the right guy to get you back in the game.

What does that even mean? What makes the right guy even right?

The right guy? It’s someone who makes you laugh, someone who gives as good as they can take it, someone who wants you just as much as you do.

The cogs move in your head as you take one more sip before you finally come to the conclusion—  

Because you didn’t find the right guy until last night.

Despite the mess of today and yesterday morning, you realize that Jaemin is... actually sort of sweet. Annoying, yes, but he keeps you on your toes. It’s a plus that he’s easy on the eyes, but it’s a bigger plus that he’s even easier to talk to.

And if he can find it in his scorched heart to trust you, you can find it in your heart to trust him too.  

You quickly say your good-byes to your family and let them know you have other plans with friends tonight.

As the Uber rolls up to his apartment building, you realize you probably should’ve messaged him on Tinder, but it’s worth a shot to see if he’s home. Anyways, impulsiveness is a controlling entity, as evident from your Christmas Eve Eve’s adventure.

And in retrospect, perhaps Jaemin was the perfect pick of the crop after all.  

Someone’s entering the building and lets you in behind them. You take the stairs two at a time and hear booming music coming from his floor. At first, you assume it’s from other apartments, but it’s all coming from one—his.

Without a thought, your knuckle taps the door.  

A handsome figure that’s definitely not Jaemin opens the door. Behind him, you see a group of young men scattered around the living room, and some have a few girls tucked under their arms.

The man eyes you up and down with a spark in his eye. He’s not Jaemin, but he surely reminds you of him.

“And who might you be?” he asks.

“Who’s at the door, Jeno?” An unknown male voice hollers in a high pitch from the couch. He’s one of the guys with a girl attached to him.

You blink. “Uhm, I’m—”

“She’s with me!” Jaemin shoves the flirty stranger aside and tugs you by your wrist, making headway to his bedroom. He flips the light switch on and the door clicks shut.

“What are you doing h—”

You cut him off with a kiss.

An innocent one, at first, with hints of alcohol on each other’s lips. Your arms wrap around the other and the passion increases with the mingling of your tongues, each party tasting and confirming the specific drinks you both consumed tonight.  

Jaemin forces himself to pull away and presses his forehead against yours. “Did you just come all the way here to kiss me, or...?”

“Maybe I came over to ask... if I can stay with you for another night?” you playfully ask, fingers intertwining behind the nape of his neck.  

He chuckles heartily. His fingers sink into the sides of your waist. “Is my dick that great? The sex with me that amazing?”

“Mmm, that’s definitely a benefit,” you agree, fluttering your nose against his. “But I want more than that—“ You poke a finger to his chest. “—I want the man behind the dick.”

Your gazes converge, bringing you together as one.

“I want to go on that date with you. I want you, Jaemin.”

He flashes a megawatt smile that could compete with a million Christmas lights, but it fades suddenly and you’re unsure why he seems like he’s about to bawl his eyes out.

“That’s so beautiful, I might cry.” He brings a finger to his eye, pretending to shed a tear.

Oh, yeah—you’re definitely going to need to hire someone to constantly shove your eyeballs back into your sockets if you’re going to date Jaemin.

“Oh, shut up,” you whisper, yanking him in for another kiss.

Three dates later, including a memorable New Year’s Eve, you finally decide to rid of the Tinder app for good.

With his arm around you on his living room couch, Jaemin glances over your shoulder.

“Really? You’re finally deleting your Tinder?”

You snort in disbelief. “That’s gold, coming from the King of Tinder himself. When did you delete?”

He turns to face the television and shrugs coolly.

“Maybe I didn’t.”

“Wouldn’t put it past you,” you nod, eyes still on your phone.

“Nah, I’m kidding, I did.”    

You sharply turn your head.

“No way. When?” you press with narrow eyes.  

A shy smile emerges on Jaemin’s face as he picks his pants over his thighs.

“On the night of Christmas Eve, after you agreed to go on a date with me.”

[chericarlisle]

hi love, could i request the reader being Aro’s daughter and he sends her to live with the cullen’s for extra safety measures and so she wouldn’t be in the way of the volturi’s work? and she ends up getting really close to carlisle? please and ty

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 || 𝐜.𝐜

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: carlisle cullen x reader

(𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.2k

𝐚/𝐧: hi babe! i thought this idea was quite fun and i hope you enjoy :)

Being Aro’s daughter was not all glitter and gold. Actually, it was far from that. You’d think that being related to the man who was head of the Volturi would have its benefits, but instead it made your life more problematic.

Your father, not so much of a family man, found it easier to do his work if you weren’t an “interference”. After he voiced that conclusion aloud, you decided to distance yourself from him and his work. It hurt to be shunned away from the only family you knew. It was only until you were shown what it was like to actually have people care about you. Deep down some part of you realized that Aro’s intentions ran good-hearted somewhere along the line, yet it was just hard to see.

Aro had spoken highly of a man named Carlisle Cullen for as long as you could remember, so when the name was brought up in the conversation of your leaving, you assumed you’d be in good hands.

About a week later, you were being shipped off via first class to the Cullens house. You had known little about them aside from the words of praise that left your father’s mouth about the man, Carlisle. It seemed that he took in a few people along the years and ultimately created the family that was so widely known.

Arriving in Forks was an experience for sure. Especially the comparison of the weather and atmosphere to that of Italy which had been home for so many years. You were thankful for the sweater that already clothed your shoulder. The original intention of the wooly black was to hide your skin from the sun, but as for now it served its actual purpose.

The Cullen's house, at first, was intimidating nonetheless. You knew zilch about these people and you felt like nothing but a burden to them and their clearly lavish lifestyles. Luckily, a constant reminder in the back of your mind told you that this family would be different from that of the one back home. These people truly wanted you in their home.

The cab you had received from the airport parked out front their gorgeous (and noticeably glassy) home, the same look of astonishment painted on the driver’s face. He quickly shook it off before running to the back of the car and grabbing your luggage from the trunk. You thanked him while handing over some cash to which he returned with a giddy smile.

Taking the luggage in hand, you carefully approached the front door. It looked even more intimidating now than it did before, and to think that it was just a door.

You figured that now would be a better time than ever to run the opposite way and after the taxi. Only hoping that he could drive you far away from this mess, the front door opened and you were awakened from your daydream and forced into what you thought would be a harsh reality.

The man who opened the door was absolutely far from anything you expected. He looked to be in his 20’s with his perfectly styled hair and crisp grey button down. You knew that Carlisle had some family so this had to be one of his sons.

Extending your own hand, you reached out to shake his hand. He smiled softly at the act and held out his arm to welcome you in the front door.

“So I assume that you must be Aro's daughter?” Closing the front door, the man in question had his back turned towards you.

“Yes, I’m (y/n), and you are?”

He spun back around to face you, bright golden eyes holding nothing but hospitality.

“I’m Carlisle Cullen. It’s very nice to have you here, (y/n).”

You tried your best to fight your widening eyes and you thanked your lucky stars that there was no warmth in your cheeks to present a blush.

“C’mon, let’s go meet the rest.” Carlisle reached forward to grab your luggage. Using his free hand, he gently guided you into the kitchen where you would meet the people who would become your family.

-

A few months passed and life in Italy felt like a lifetime ago. The Cullen “sons” were exactly what you imagined they'd be like and you had imagined them as eccentric. The three of them had completely different personalities which made for all the more fun. As for Alice and Rosalie, the two were polar opposites. It took practically nothing for Alice to warm up to you, while it took Rosalie a month or two to see that you’d be around for some time and that she should be used to it.

Most importantly, you grew closer to Carlisle, but in a way that differed from the other Cullens. Things like little touches and silly yet borderline flirtatious comments made you realize that there was more.

Carlisle had felt exactly as you had, except neither of you wanted to voice it.

-

One night, you sat on the couch, seemingly alone as the others were off doing their own things. You tried to immerse yourself in the tv show that was playing, but it seemed to be complete garbage.

You weren’t expecting any company until the garage door opened and in walked Carlisle, changed from his scrubs into comfortable clothes. It made you curious as to why he had changed when he normally came home in his usual white lab coat.

“You look comfortable, Dr. Cullen.”

Carlisle shook his head and let out a tiny, exhausted laugh. He walked over to join you on the couch. Sitting down comfortably on the cushion next to you, Carlisle outstretched his hand to go around the backing and ultimately on your shoulders.

“A pediatric patient unfortunately had a bit of a stomach bug, so I had to clean up using the hospital showers.”

You nodded, scooting closer so you could lay your head on Carlisle’s shoulder. The two of you had made this a routine now. You’d often wait for Carlisle to arrive home from his late shifts and both of you would relax on the couch for the time that you could.

Months ago you couldn’t even imagine stepping foot into the Cullen’s house without being an inconvenience, however you were now sitting on their couch and snuggled up with a man who intimidated you so.

Carlisle could see that you were deep in thought and not focused on the tv that was running in the back.

“Is everything alright, darling?”

It was a name Carlisle had coined only for you, and oh how you loved it.

You looked up at him, a sweet and appreciative beam on your lips.

“More than alright.”

Carlisle found your response comforting as he settled back into the couch, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head.

It looked like your living situation with the Cullens was most definitely about to become permanent.