#small sorrows au

[dark-elf-writes]

Toshinori "some old guy" Yagi, will forever be what ha's called after this

Izuku would be mortified when they are back to normal.

The teachers on the other hand would be howling about it for way too long. His name gets changed in the teacher chat and for the life of him a Yagi can’t figure out how to change it back.

[whorelaud]

OFF LIMITS – rafe cameron ¡ (08)

social media & irl AU !

pairing brother's best friend!rafe cameron x brat!reader summary you slide into a random boy's dms on instagram, anything but expecting him to end up being your brother's best friend, let alone the person you'll be spending your summer vacation with. while resisting Rafe and his lingering gazes was an option, you found yourself in the constant loop of crossing the line; said line being your brother. ch content mature content, nsfw; making out, nipple sucking, teasing, hickies, praise, dry humping (?), pet names, sexual tension, fluff!! sneaking around, fights and arguments, angst

NAVIGATION. series masterlist | 07 ! 08 ¡ 09

Your skin burned; heat radiating off your entire body throughout the whole meeting. Rafe’s gaze pierced holes through you, unable to keep his eyes away from you, even with your father mere inches away, the small distance barely separating you. 

The meeting soon came to an end, a sigh of relief escaping your throat the moment the elders shot up from their seats, shaking your parents’ hands as they bid goodbye’s. You scrambled to hide behind your mom, awaiting Rafe and your brother’s leave; just in case the latter puts you in the spot, offering to drive you back, and make things even more awkward than they were. 

After the incident with Ryan, you both tended to be more careful, sneaking around to spend time with each other once everyone fell asleep (like literally… you’d make Rafe double check whether Ryan fell asleep, not choosing to put yourself at risk with the situation). It was oddly thrilling, though your words spoke otherwise, you found joy in telling Rafe off as he drags you to a dim corner away from everyone’s eyes, a rush of adrenaline pumping through your veins the moment he connects your lips with his, the gesture assuring you in a way; pushing your worries down the pit of your stomach. 

Ryan was also keeping watch, although Rafe brushed off his assumptions, the latter insisted the phone was yours, growing more suspicious when Rafe snatched it before he could get a hold of it. Hiding the whole thing from your brother felt as if something bitter lodged in your throat, one you couldn’t bring yourself to swallow down. 

It was horrible, with the thrill and giddiness came worry and guilt, that even if you were happy, the voices in the back of your head would hold you back, reminding you of the hell you created out of yourself. You were at a point where all you could do was wait, enjoy each moment in hopes of it lasting forever, merely going with the flow for the sake of happiness you’ve forced yourself to appreciate, though it wasn’t worthy of, no amount of assuring convincing you otherwise. 

The deadline for your trip was approaching, with each passing second, minute, hour. And for that, you chose to push down your emotions, enjoy the company of your friends while they were within reach, knowing you weren’t going to see them for the next months; years, even. And Rafe, yeah, the mere thought of dealing with the long distance had you stressing, unable to handle him being a few hours drive away. 

In that short while you spent with your friends had a lasting impact, influencing a big part of your life, one you weren’t aware was missing. It was as if this trip was meant to heal you, pay off all your pain in sorrow with the company of others, even if not much was being done, as you spent most of your time hanging out on the beach near the Airbnb.  

You were still grateful, though, impatiently waiting to get home after your friends suggested a girls’ night out. You swiftly agreed, because who were you to refuse? Besides, you didn’t fully dislike the idea of it, as it would probably help get your mind off things.

You hurried to get changed upon your arrival, sprinting up the stairs with the intention of saving yourself a bit of time. You took an everything shower, styled your hair, did your makeup, and picked something out to wear, not wanting to delay your leave any longer, and waste the precious time your friends spared you. 

Everything was fine, until it came to finding your desired pair of shoes. A puzzled expression settled on your face once you realized your Converse were nowhere in sight, almost as if they vanished into thin air. You searched the entirety of the closet for them, growing panicked when Cleo soon seeked your presence, asking whether you were ready. 

“I can’t find my converse,” you answered, eyebrows knitting with frustration. “I’m sure I put them here, where did they go?” 

“Your converse?” Clep questioned, tilting her head as she observed the now mess of a closet. “I think I saw them in the garage, are they white?” 

“Yeah,” You perked up at that, standing to your feet in an instant. “Why are they in the garage?” 

“Girl, I don’t know.” Cleo chuckled, shaking her head. “You should grab them, we’re leaving in a few.” 

“Lifesaver.” you sighed, planting a brief kiss to her cheek before you were off to the garage, entering from the door attached to the kitchen. 

You fanned away the dust fogging your vision, attention shifting to the sun invading the space through the slightly open garage door. You quickly got to searching for your shoes, yelping with excitement when you spotted it lying around, along with your pair of white crocs (God knows how these ended up here). You hurried to put them on, struggling in the process, and sighing with relief after you managed to insert one of them around your foot. 

Your action cut short, breath hitching as a familiar hand sneaked around your waist, halting you in your spot. You wasted no time to turn around, eyes widening in shock when your gaze landed on Rafe, a knowing smile leisurely dancing around his lips at your reaction. 

“You showed up.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips. “You took so long, I didn’t think you would.” 

“What are you doing?” Your lips parted in a gasp, shoving the latter by the shoulder. “The garage door is open, Rafe. What if someone saw you?!” 

“What, I can’t see my girl now?” His gaze flickered to your lips, leaning his arm over the chair you made yourself comfortable on. He then leaned forward, capturing your lips in a soft, yet deliberate kiss, instantly interrupted once you shoved him away.  “God, I’ve missed you.”

“Missed me?” You repeated through gritted teeth, “Were you the one who stole my shoes?” 

“What? No!” He said in between giggles, the cockiness in his tone immediately giving away the white lie. “You know I would never.” 

“You idiot!” You huffed, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. “You’re gonna get us caught if you keep doing this.” 

“You barely make time for me now,” he pouted, watching as you strived to put the other pair of shoes on. “I had to take action, since someone is playing hard to get.” 

A scoff escaped your throat at the snarky comment, firmly tying the shoelaces into a knot before you stood to your feet, straightening your back to catch glimpse of Rafe, whose eyes followed your every move. 

“What if I never wore my converse?” You snickered, pursing your mouth into a thin line to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “Then what, would you have still waited for me?” 

“Without a doubt,” he replied with no hesitation. “I knew you’d wear them, though; you always do.”

“Whatever,” you playfully rolled your eyes, disregarding the way your face flushed with heat, expression giving your shyness away. “I need to leave.” 

“So soon?” His eyebrows curled with disappointment, as he pressed one of his hands to your hips, using the gesture to pull you closer. He tilted your head with the tip of his fingers, instantly crashing his lips into yours in a teasing kiss, teeth lightly grazing over your bottom lip before he pulled away. “I jus’ got ahold of you,” and another kiss, “care to spare me a few minutes?” 

“This is not working on me, Rafe.” You pushed him off, though you fully melted in his hold, wanting nothing but to get a taste of his lips again. “You know I can’t, Sarah will kill me if I’m late.” 

“There you go with Sarah,” he huffed, rolling his eyes as he moved away, giving you enough space to get through. “I don’t want you to leave.” 

“Well, I’m sorry.” You giggled, scrunching your nose at his reaction. “I’ll be back soon, don’t be upset.” You glimpsed around, eyeing the place carefully before you grabbed his face, not giving Rafe time to process the situation before you were leaping him in a soft kiss, one bidding him goodbye, and leaving him craving more. “Bye, I’ll miss you.” 

At that, Rafe grins, admiring as you walked away, now creating somewhat of a distance between you two. He waved his hand in your direction, swaying his body back and forth with mere giddiness. “Text me!” 

You nod in response, chuckling before strolling your way in your friends’ direction, instantly flashing Sarah an apologetic smile upon catching glimpse of her sulky expression. 

Rafe stretched his arms over his head, letting his eyes fall shut as a groggy groan escaped his throat, the action falling interrupted when he turned in the door’s (the one leading to the kitchen) direction, and spotted Ryan, whose glare puzzled Rafe, unable to read his mind, and know what he was thinking. 

“Ryan,” He nervously started, “How long have you been here?” 

“Not long,” the latter mumbled, exhaling through his parted lips. “Wanted to check why this door was open.” 

“Oh,” Rafe relaxed, partially due to the explanation, pausing before he continued. “Do you need anything?”

“Nope,” he shook his head, “I got takeout, wanna eat?” 

“Sure.” Rafe nodded, following in Ryan’s steps when he took his leave, and making sure to close the door once he was inside. His eyebrows quirked upon his gaze landing on the table, confused on why there was no food plated on the hardwood. “Where’s the food?” 

“On the porch.” Ryan dismissed, escorting Rafe outside. He took a seat on one of the chairs, quickly joined by rafe as he reached for one of the boxed foods splayed on the table. “Help yourself out.”

Ryan didn't need to tell him twice as he dug in, munching on his food while admiring the rocky waves. It was a beautiful sight, calming Rafe in a way, though that didn't last forever as he took notice of the latter, who stuck to playing with the noodles instead of eating.

“Why aren't you eating?” Rafe asked, addressing Ryan with his chin. “Do you not like it?” 

Ryan remained silent, gaze yet fixed on the food in his lap, letting silence seep in before he cut through it. “I saw you earlier.” 

“Me?” Rafe scoffed through a mouthful of food, leaning back in his chair. “When?

“In the garage, with my sister.” Rafe almost chokes when Ryan replies, mouth stilling for a moment. “You know, Bug; the same girl you referred to as a sister.” 

Fuck. He knows. 

Rafe’s heart drops at that, fully abandoning the food he had in hand, tossing it on the table as he casually spins in Ryan’s direction, a mere attempt of maintaining a calm expression, as if he wasn't a panicking mess deep down. 

“What do you mean?” He feigned oblivion, blinking far too many times for his liking. 

“Don’t bullshit me, Rafe.” Ryan stifles out a sarcastic laugh, turning to face Rafe, who despite his cool expression, turned red with nervousness. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.” 

“I don't.” Rafe lied through his teeth, gulping when Ryan straightened up, getting off the chair in an instant.

Ryan gave Rafe no time to process the situation, swinging a punch to his face, immediately causing the latter to stumble back, fully taken aback by the gesture. 

Sure, they’ve had their fair share of arguments, but it never got this bad; to the point where they needed to involve violence. 

“You’re fucking my sister, huh?” He then punches him again, and in that moment, awareness washed over Rafe, as he realized this was it. The truth was out, Ryan found out. “Out of everyone, you go for my sister?!”

Rafe sat there, didn't even bother swinging back, or defend himself, hence he knew he deserved it. He hid this for far too long, letting the guilt build up instead of owning up to it and being honest with his best friend. He let Ryan yank him up, then throw him to the floor, then proceeded to relax as he threw another punch to his face, completely wrecking his features with bruises that formed within seconds. 

“I thought you were my best friend,” Ryan grunted out, now pressing Rafe to the floor with his knees locking him in place. “I told you,” a punch, “not to fucking” and another, “touch my sister!” 

Rafe almost laughs at the statement, choosing to swallow it down, as his friend was already furious; he’d completely lose it if Rafe were to open his mouth, let alone laugh. 

He couldn't help it, though, giggling when he caught a glimpse of Ryan’s upset expression, perhaps not taking the situation as seriously as he truly should. 

Ryan pauses at that, eyebrows curling with confusion, as to why the latter suddenly erupted into a fit of chuckles. “Why are you laughing?”

“God, you’re ridiculous.” Rafe muttered through a breath, causing Ryan to perk with pent-up anger. 

“What did you say?” Ryan mumbles through gritted teeth, failing to hold himself back. 

Rafe straightened in his position, groaning once he pushed Ryan off, letting the latter fall to his side. His lips gaped in pain, hissing when his fingers brushed over the bruise near his mouth upon noticing the blood gushing out. 

“Is that all you’ve got?” Rafe asked, a smug smirk slowly tugging at his lips. 

“You want me to fuckin’ kill you?” Ryan spat out, face fuming with anger. “You think my sister is a whore? You can sleep with her and call it a night? Huh?”

Rafe’s teeth clenched at that, tugging Ryan by the collar of his shirt. He yanked him back, veins trailing a path to beneath his buzzed hair, unable to contain himself, nor fight the urge to maintain patience. 

“Don’t cross the line, Ryan.” He threatened, tone serious, as well as the expression smothering across his face. “Say shit like that one more time and I’ll fuckin’ kill you, y’hear me? I could easily take you down; kill you if I wanted, but I won't, ‘cause you're my best friend.” He then paused, seeking Ryan's gaze through his foggy vision before he continued. “I won't let you assume shit, okay? You can't say bullshit like this and expect me not to say anything.” 

“Assume? You’ve been hiding the whole fuckin’ thing from me.” Ryan scoffed, ridiculed by Rafe’s words. “You know how I get when I’m angry, Rafe, don’t fucking tempt me.”

“Let it all out, Ryan.” Rafe let go of him, holding onto the chair for support to get himself off the ground, quickly standing to his feet. “I like her, and I’m willing to do anything to be with her, even if I lose myself doing it.” Rafe grabbed his phone from the table, along with his wallet, as he inserted them in the back pocket of his jeans. “I’m not letting her go, no amount of convincing could change my decision.” 

Ryan sat there and watched, gaze following Rafe as he strived to take his leave, immediately disappearing out of the latter’s sight. Telling (?) his best friend felt like something heavy getting off his chest, though he still had plenty to worry about. It was nice, knowing he won't have to hide his feelings away anymore. 

He planned to keep the incident between him and Ryan for now, not wanting you to find out, just for a fight to break down between you and your brother. For now, the least he could do is avoid you, favorably till his bruises healed. 

And that’s exactly what he did. Rafe never left his room, even after you came back, sticking to texting you instead, and refusing to see you, though you hinted your want to meet him. 

The latter wasn't budging, brushing off your attempts by changing the topic, and before you knew it, night has approached, later followed by you falling into deep slumber, only realizing you fell asleep after randomly waking up in the middle of the night to your phone abandoned on your pillow, after your many shots of convincing Rafe to see you. 

He’ll come around, you were probably going to see him during breakfast tomorrow. 

Or at least you hoped. 

Rafe never showed up for breakfast. 

You were confused, cluelessly staring at your food while your friends filled the room with chaos, failing to notice the disappointment sprawling across your face. 

You’ve grown used to the teasing comments Rafe would throw in your direction, wishing he was there to at least keep you company. You miss him, so much, it was driving you crazy. Throughout your nearly two months of staying here, this is the longest it's been since you last spoke to Rafe, or seen him in person; and that alone had you spiraling with frustration. 

Something was wrong. It wasn't a typical lazy morning for Rafe, as he always manages to squeeze in a bit of quality time, despite how hectic his schedule would get. This time around, he didn't even bother explaining the reason behind his sudden disappearance, remaining a mystery with each time your curiosity grew. 

That of course, lasted till the afternoon, when you fortuitously stumbled upon Rafe as he sneaked his way out to the bathroom, not catching glimpse of you down the hall; staring him down with a million thoughts wandering through your head. He clicked the door shut, taking the opportunity for granted when you strolled your way in his direction, disregarding the fact that others could see you, and only focusing on Rafe, while you patiently waited for him to exit the bathroom. 

The sound of the door unlatching made you perk up, breath knocking out of your chest when your gaze landed on Rafe, who froze, a look of discomfort instantly spreading on his face. His face, it was bruised, freckled with purple patches that covered a decent amount of his features, you almost didn’t recognize him. 

He muttered out your name through a breath, not looking too fond of getting caught in this condition, clearly uncomfortable with you trying to read his expression like you knew exactly what happened, and how he was feeling. With a gulp, the latter started again, tone evident, in contrast to his emotions. “What are you doing here?” 

“What happened to your face?” You asked, reaching out for his face, merely for the latter to dodge it as he grasps your wrist in between his fingers, holding it firm and in place. 

“Nothin’, I got drunk and accidently got into a fight.” Rafe lied through his teeth, loosening his hold around your hand. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“You didn’t leave the house yesterday, Rafe.” You exclaimed, in response to his deceiving statement. “Who did this to you? Was it Topper? Did he show up while we were gone?” 

“C’mon,” he clicked his teeth, giggling to brighten the mood. “You think I’m that weak?” 

“This is not a laughing matter, Rafe!” You huffed, eyebrows knitting with frustration. “You were jus’ fine, how did you get all these bruises?”

“Baby, it’s nothing, like I said, I got drunk and–” his sentence was cut short as he jolted back, the muscular figure in view causing you to gasp before you stumbled back, eyes immediately widening in shock upon catching sight of Ryan, now pressing Rafe to the wall.

“‘Fuck are you doing, Rafe?” He asked through gritted teeth, tightening his hold around the collar of Rafe’s shirt when the latter remained silent, leisurely fluttering his eyes shut in response. “Didn’t I warn you, can’t you jus’ fuckin’ respect me for once?”

Rafe scoffed at that, angling his head back as he stifled out a laugh, hands landing on top of Ryan’s, before he shoved them off, slyly fixing the collar of his shirt. “You’re full of shit.” 

“What did you say?” Ryan moved forward, fingers clutching into a fist at Rafe’s words, aiming to swing at him, merely for you to interfere with the arm you pressed to his chest. 

“What is going on here?” You questioned with disbelief, gaze flickering between your brother and Rafe, hoping for an explanation, an answer, at least. 

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” Rafe assured, addressing you with a tight-lipped smile. “Jus’ go back to your room, I’ll catch you later.” 

“Motherfucker,” Ryan spat back, venom filling the void in his tone. “You’re doin’ this to piss me off, aren’t you?” 

“I can’t tell if you’re being serious right now…” you muttered under your breath, confusing no one but yourself. “Why are you fighting?” 

“Why are you involving her?” Rafe mumbled, jaw clenching with anger. “Might as well jus’ tell everyone else, huh? Yeah everyone, my sister and my best friend have feelings for each other, and I’m a lil’ bitch that can’t handle things not going my way, so I decided to break things off between them, then beat my friend into a pulp to feel better about myself.” 

What?

Your lips parted in an inaudible gasp, halting in your tracks at the truth, and the reason behind their argument. Fuck, Ryan found out. 

He’d have to find out one day, you knew that, but right now? Your heart instantly sunk to your stomach, breath heaving with each exhale departing your lips, unaware of what to do with yourself, and the new information that practically slapped their way into your brain. 

By the looks of it, Ryan did not handle the truth well, hence the proof was evident on Rafe’s face. 

“I asked one thing of you, Rafe.” Ryan stated, “One thing; don’t fucking touch my little sister, and what did you do? You go n’ kiss her? What, you expect me to sit back and be happy about this?” 

“What do you wanna do?” Rafe’s face twisted with irritation, arms moving in front of his chest as he straightened up, now invading Ryan’s personal space. “What, you’ll try to separate us? I already fucking told you, I’m not letting her go, Ryan. I– I like her, so much; you of all people should know how serious this is for me.” 

“Go fuck yourself for all I care.” Ryan choked out a sarcastic laugh, “I know you, you’re a fucking asshole, and a scumbag who only cares about himself, don’t come talkin’ about serious shit, I know you won’t treat my sister well.” 

“You’re overstepping it,” Rafe started, tone serious, a slight warning for Ryan. “Don’t make me do somethin’ I’ll regret.” 

“Yeah?” Ryan mocked, getting under Rafe’s skin. “What are you gonna do?” 

“Stop talking.” You interrupted, sighing aloud with exasperation. “Just shut up, what if someone hears you? What will you tell them?” 

“But–” Ryan started. 

“Don’t.” You beat him to it, fluttering your eyes shut before you continued. “Go to your rooms, and handle this privately, please. Don’t start saying dumb shit only to regret it later on.” 

At that, both of them fall quiet, letting silence seep through the air, atmosphere heavy with tension that could kill. Ryan took a moment to collect himself, before wandering back to his room, knowing if he spoke he wouldn't stop talking. 

As for Rafe, the latter stared into the void, watching as you walked away, knowing he can’t speak up, in case he says something and ruins things for himself, messing them up more than they already were. Instead, he observed as you disappeared off to your room, lingering for just a moment, in hopes of seeing you for a few seconds, a mere glimpse, if that was too much to ask for. 

Disappointment washed over his chest once he realized you were gone, hopelessly heading back to his room, with the intentions of locking himself in there forever, maybe until he reflects on the dumb decisions his mind keeps suggesting, letting the voices in his head take over each time he was in the slightest bit agitated. However, that wasn’t long, as he was pulled out of his head when a soft knock erupted through the door, that if not for the silence, Rafe wouldn’t have heard it. 

His brows curled with puzzlement, hesitating to unlatch the door, only twisting the doorknob when another knock came through. Rafe’s chest raised at the sight of you, straightening up when he came in view, slightly taken aback by your presence. His gaze trailed down to the first-aid kit in your hold, heart quickening in pace upon realizing your reason for disappearance. 

The air filled with comfortable silence, Rafe didn’t dare cut through it, merely moving to the side to let you through, with you quietly accepting the invitation as you let yourself inside. Rafe shut the door, before he followed in your steps, deliberately approaching you as if not to startle you, admiring while you unpacked the boxed medicine in the process. 

A smile threatened to tug at his lips, fading in an instant when you turned, addressing him with your sharp gaze, that he somehow couldn’t read, falling blank since earlier. 

“Sit.” You ordered, dipping a q-tip in the rubbing alcohol that came with the kit. 

Rafe did as told, shoulder bumping into yours in the process of getting himself to the bed. He made himself comfortable on the edge, angling his head back to make it easier for you to apply the medicine. 

You tapped the ointment to the bruise near his mouth, hushing out an apology when he hissed in pain, continuing to clean up the wound, though it was probably too late now. You still wanted to do it, though, guilt settling in the pit of your stomach once you found out it was your brother’s doing. 

“I knew it.” You whispered through a shuddered breath, swallowing down the lump in your throat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t expect him to be this upset when he found out.” 

“Why are you apologizing?” Rafe spoke, regretting it as he grunted in pain, his now disinfected wound burning when he moved his mouth. “It’s fine, I know how he gets when he’s angry.” 

“You’re both idiots.” You scoffed, a smile twitching at the corner of your lips. “Why were you provoking him, then?” 

“For fun.” He chuckled, letting tension linger in the air. 

You continued disinfecting the bruises, almost crumbling as his arm instinctively found the curse of your waist, fingertips rubbing soothing circles to the exposed flesh around your side. You tried not to react to the touch, feigning oblivion to his legs locking you in place, giving you no chance to escape him, or the desire pumping through your insides. 

“You’re so pretty.” Rafe’s voice abruptly broke out, earning your attention as you stopped what you were doing, feeling heat crawl past your neck, all the way to your face. 

“Well, you’re not.” You teased, covering your flusteredness, wrapping up the first aid kit once you were done. “You’re busted, don’t get beaten up again.” 

Rafe squeezed your hip at the playful statement, chuckling along with you, though that gesture of his was desperate, speaking for all his wants and needs. “I’d gladly take another beating for you.” 

Your heart raced in your chest, mouth pressing into a thin line to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. You hated how sappy the snarky comment was, making you feel shy like a girl with her first crush, as if you’ve never experienced anything romantic before. 

“You’re an idiot.” You hushed out, almost gasping when Rafe’s fingers lightly tugged the waistband of your shorts, leisurely slipping them underneath, just enough to receive a reaction out of you. 

A hum of content rummaged out of his chest, tilting his head back even more, until the yearn in his gaze was visible, and in view, unable to hide it anymore. He fluttered his eyes up at you, pupils dilating with need, as new found tension seeped through, unlike the other times something bloomed between you two. 

This time, it was different, body submitting each time his touch would linger, clearly expressing the keenness heavy in his heart, now finally able to showcase it through action, with no one to interrupt, nor guilt to interfere. 

No thoughts were thought, no words were said, both of your minds were blank, full of emotions, and hushed desire. A breathy sigh stuttered out of your chest, fingers lightly grazing Rafe’s arms as they leisurely trailed up his shoulders, till you reached the crook of his neck. 

You engulfed his neck in your hands, thumbs gently pressing to his adam’s apple when you tilted his head back more, hinting that you were just as eager as he was, unable to put an end to the yearn eating through your heart, eventually aiming to do something about it. 

“Fuck.” Rafe muttered under his breath, fingers landing over yours. 

He wasted no time, immediately standing to his feet as he captured your lips in a kiss, knocking a breath out of your chest in the process. You stumbled back, slightly taken aback, though you quickly adjusted to the situation, slowly moving your lips over Rafe’s, able to taste the blood on his mouth. 

It was bittersweet, raw, full of emotions, speaking louder than you can put into words. Rafe’s lips moved with a motive, hot breath fanning over yours as he licked and nipped at your mouth, taking the gasp you let out for granted to slip his tongue in between your parted lips, and letting the warmness of your mouth engulf his own. 

His tongue met yours halfway through, a whine muffling its way out when his teeth grazed over your lip, aiming to explore every part of your mouth, even if it meant spending the rest of his life here in this moment. You tasted so fucking good, hell, eve better than the last time he’s kissed you. 

Rafe was drunk on your lips, not a thought behind his eyes as he stumbled back, littering sloppy, open-mouthed kisses to your hot mouth in the process of sitting himself down, tugging your head downwards with him. You almost chuckled at the gesture, action interrupted when he pulled away, eyes hazing with pure lust. 

Loud breaths heaved their way out of his chest, lips parting with a glossy layer of spit. His hooded pupils dilated with yearn, hands exploring your body like no other, unable to keep them to himself. His fingers tugged at the hem of your shirt, sloppily pushing it up before his mouth found the plush of your stomach. 

Your head tilted back with pleasure, eyes forcing shut as you took in the sensation of Rafe’s tongue swirling around the low of your stomach, nibbling on the skin for a reaction out of you. He’d linger for a second, planting a soft kiss over the spot to soothe away the pain, and hell, did it feel good. 

He savored every bit of skin, whatever kept his mouth busy was not preventing him from caressing your body, worshiping you like you’re the only thing that matters. And you were, in Rafe’s eyes, things could not get any better, he’s wanted nothing but to do this, taste you, do this without the voices in his head lecturing him over the consequences of his actions. 

“So perfect.” He muffled, thumb pressing to the material of your bra, while yet holding your shirt in place. “Fuckin’ killin’ me, everything you do drives me crazy.” 

“Rafeee," you whined, (holding onto his non existent hair) fingernails digging to his shoulders, the sensation earning a grunt out of Rafe, yet littering love bites to your stomach. 

He nipped and kissed the soft flesh, one of his hands kneading the plush of your ass, using the pressure of his hold to push you down, causing you to almost fall as you landed in his lap, immediately straddling him, and making yourself comfortable. 

You adjusted yourself around the boy, almost shuddering when his hardon brushed over your ass, swallowing down your nervousness when his gaze leveled with yours, not breaking eye contact. His stares burned holes through you, you felt shy, and the need to get away before you melt in his arms. 

A sly smirk tugged at his bruised lips, tongue toying with his teeth as he leisurely tugged your shirt with both of his hands, slipping it over your head, until you were left with the thin fabric of your bra. 

His eyes hungrily trailed to your cleavage, throat running dry when he gulped, vision going blurry at the sight of your boobs perfectly sitting in place, begging to be touched and caressed by him. 

“You sure about this?” He asked for consent, letting his gaze flicker to yours for a brief second. 

“Mhm.” You nodded, sweeping him in a quick kiss, forehead connecting with his once you pulled away. “Now do somethin’ please.” 

“No need to say it twice, baby.” He whispered, licking into your mouth. One of his hands sneaked its way to your back, landing around your bra, swiftly unclipping it, until the straps fell loose around your arms. 

A wave of nervousness came crashing, watching with haste as Rafe froze, eyes flickering to your half-exposed nipples, now freckled with goosebumps due to the chilly breeze invading the hidden flesh. 

Rafe carefully hauled the strings down, till they were off your arms, freeing your chest from that stupid bra. Rafe’s mouth salivated at the sight, the bulge in his pants twitching with need. They were perfect, I mean, come on, Rafe was no virgin, but seeing you like this has no reason making his mind race with all sorts of thoughts, like a loser about to have sex for the first time. 

This was better than his imagination, so much better than letting his head wander off to how you’ll scream his name when he fucks you, tits bouncing beautifully while you ride his cock. It was a sight, one that made him feel dumb, and idiotic, for even thinking he can have you. 

“God,” he groaned, cupping one of your tits in his hold. “Such a fuckin’ brat, always makin’ me feel dirty.” 

Your back arched, chasing after the fraction of his thumb rolling your now hardened nipple in his fingers. You were insanely turned on, the sensation making your brain fuzzy, now dizzy all over. And if you thought that felt good, then you were wrong, completely jerking in Rafe’s arms when his mouth captured your nipple in between his lips. 

His mouth glided over the skin, coating it with a layer of hot spit, as he swirled his tongue just around the hard nub, causing you to yelp with pleasure. His teeth lightly grazed the sensitive flesh, mouth pooling with thirst, cherishing every second of this like a man starved. 

He sucked and nibbled, marking your flesh, and hissing when your hips rolled down, panties soaked with your juices. You couldn’t help it, despite Rafe’s hand pressing to your side, you continued, chasing after the sensation of his cock brushing over your ass through the thin material of your sheer sleep shorts. 

“Fucking hell, doll, ‘that feel good?” He asked, squeezing your tit when you stuck to nodding. “Words baby, lemme hear you.” 

“Feels so good, Rafe.” You muttered, Rafe’s crotch brushing over your clothed, slick folds with each time you grind your hips down. 

“There you go.” He mewled out, “Be a good girl n’ show me how good I make you feel.” 

Your body tingled all over at the statement, grinding down with all your might, as you feel your climax building up. Rafe, too, took notice of that, halting your hips in place to earn your attention. 

“Wait.” He mumbled, lips parting in a shaky exhale. 

“What?” You asked, fluttering your eyes open to catch glimpse of Rafe. 

“Don’t.” He warned, “Wanna make you feel good.” 

Oh. 

Oh. 

“Hmm?” You hummed, slightly feeling shy under his gaze. 

“We have all night, baby.” He stifled out a teasing laugh. “I wanna take my time; appreciate each and every inch of you.” 

Rafe’s lips collided with yours in a soft peck, thumb rubbing soothing circles to the curve of your jaw. 

“Let me take care of you.”

That was it. The only assurance you needed. You wanted this, more than anything. 

Fuck the world, hell might as well get fucked too. 

a/n all support is v much appreciated!! this one is my fav despite how poorly written it was 😭 i tried to portray the fight scene and the tension in a somewhat decent way but this is all i can manage sorry fellas </3 but yeah phew ryan finally found out... didnt handle it well but 😜 anyways!! next part might be an extra of their first time... pure smut continuing this chapter so lmk if you guys are interested HAHA won't guarantee it being good but... yeha!! its not a necessary read, doesnt add anything to the plot, but i still kinda want to do it yeahh!! with that being said, lmk your thoughts on this chapter <33

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[sultrysparkles]

"I'D UNDERSTAND "

[•~college!au, aged!up kirshima x reader~•]fluff/slight angst/smut

[•~synopsis: you find out your boyfriend was just using you, don't worry ejiro will help you forget all about that~•]

[•~a/n: inspired by a situation my friend was js in, send requests!!~•]

you couldn't believe it. after all that time? all those memories you two had together. it was all for nothing.

you and your (ex) boyfriend had been dating for a couple weeks. even though it was merely a couple weeks, you were convinced that he was the love of your life. you knew that he was the one. or at least you thought so-

gradually things got distant, he stopped making an effort overall, while you put in everything you had. you were confused and frustrated. you didn't do anything to him? so what was going on?...

then earlier this afternoon, you were catching up on some nearly-late homework assignments. as you scribbled your way through some equations a light buzz vibrated against your thigh.

curiously, you took out your phone and glanced over at the notification. you had got a message from your boyfriend.

you open his chats eagerly, for once he started a conversation with you. but your moment of glee soon came to an abrupt end as you read the first couple words.

"y/n. we need to break up"

you felt your heart shatter into a million pieces. your stomach dropped making the guilty and panicky feeling overtake your senses even more.

you continue reading the paragraph, each word making that sick feeling grow in you. you couldn't believe that this was happening. it had to be a nightmare.

"tbh i was desperate for a prom date cs all my friends going had one and i didn't wanna be left out and at that point they were making fun of me so yea i shoulda js told the truth from the start instead of lying"

emotions flooded your mind. betrayal. disappointment. anger. were just to name a few. you were at a loss for words. you thought he actually loved you. he treated you better than any other guy you were previously with. and you get played?

you drop your phone, tears flooding your eyes as you fall onto your bed, head buried in the pillow below you. the only thing you felt like doing now was to cry your eyes out dry. sob until you got better if that was possible anymore. you felt stupid.

teardrops dampened the pillowcase below you face as you say there in sorrow. but your moment of mourning was soon interrupted by a series of knocks. a familiar voice following.

"y/n? you left your textbooks in the library-"

you quickly fix yourself up, taking in a couple deep breaths and wiping the tears off your cheeks. you swiftly get up from your bed, praying that the faint pink tint plastered all over your face wasn't too obvious.

your hand curls over the doorknob and you open the door slowly. being greeted with a familiar red haired boy. eijiro kirishima, your best friend. one of his arms holding up a stack of books, while the other was shoved in his jacket pocket.

"h-hey eijiro... thanks for bringing me these" you whispered, hiding your shaky rattled voice. eijiro looked down at you with a small frown. "you okay, y/n?" he asks, handing you the books, worry and concern evident in his tone.

those three words were all it took to make you crack. you erupted back into that familiar sorrow, eyes overfilling with water.

you then feel strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into a warm and comforting embrace. without any thought you cry into his chest, a spot in his hoodie getting soaked.

a hand strokes your back softly as his soothing voice whispers in your ear "let it out, it's all gonna be okay y/n, I promise..." you hug him back even tighter, too lost in your emotions.

a couple moments pass before eijiro pulls away for a quick moment, arms still wrapped around you.

"you wanna tell me what's wrong?..."

you explain to kirishima everything that had just happened. he knew about this boyfriend you had and wasn't too trusting of him to begin with. he has a gut feeling something was off but he didn't want to burst your bubble so he kept quiet.

at least that's what he told himself. in actuality he couldn't tell if he was just jealous of him or if he actually had a guy feeling. something eijiro had never told you was that he had the biggest crush on you ever since you two had met. and every time you mentioned or introduced him to a new guy the only thing he could think of was how much better he was.

this moment was no different either. you told him in the past about how your boyfriend was treating you. from all the dry and lackluster conversations to the lack of attention. he heard it all. and he tried his best to comfort you, to try to look out for the both of you. when in reality he wanted you all for himself. he wanted to tell you how much of a better boyfriend he could be.

his blood boiled and his heart was full of fury. "that is so messed up." he grumbled arm wrapped around one of your shoulders as he held you in close, inhaling tye sweet scent of your shampoo.

"I know... im so tired of this ejiro. am I really that unlovable?.." you ask, glancing back up at the red haired male, eyelashes decorated with tiny teardrops. kirishima feels his cheeks reddened and blush as he thinks carefully about his reply. he could ruin your friendship if this doesn't go his way. but if it does workout, his dreams will come true. a moment passes before he replies.

"y/n, honestly I can't even hide this anymore from you. I love you. I mean it I swear. it drives me mad seeing you let these guys take advantage of you like this, you're too pretty and perfect to be treated like this. please- let me show you how good I could treat you-"

and that's how it all started. you were laid down on your back, thighs pushed all the way to your chest as kirishima towered over you.

"relax for me mamas... ima make you feel so good..." he cooes into your ear, hand caressing your cheek. you listen to him and let go of all the tension you were holding in, a breathy exhale leaving your lips.

kirishima teases his tip in between your fold and clit, making the both of you let out a small moan. soon enough he gently pushes himself in, groaning at the way your wet walls clam down on his length. you grip the bedsheets next to you as the feeling of the pleasureable yet painful stretch engulfs your senses.

"you okay princess? can I start?..." he asks, checking in for any signs of discomfort on your face. it took everything in him to not start moving and pound the life out of you, he had fantasized about this moment since forever and it was finally in his hands.

you nod, and kirishima starts moving at a slow pace, making sure you were okay, after all the last thing he would ever want to do, is to hurt you. but soon enough he picks up the pace gradually, making you cry out for more. "your takin it so well for me mamas..." he praises, his hips bucking into your cunt even quicker.

"f-fuck she was made for me hm? bet that lameass boyfriend couldn't get ya like this" he mumbles, pointing your chin down to make sure you maintain eye contact with him.

he begins to get rougher, hands quickly shifting your legs from pressed against your torso to now your calves on his shoulders. the new position made him ram into that spongy spot, making your moans even louder.

it all felt so good, from the way his cock was now even deeper in you, the way his thrust became harsh and passionate you could only shut your eyes from the ecstasy.

"don't close your eyes on me mama, keep them open or I'll stop." he commands, drilling into your hole even faster now, the sound of skin slapping follow suit. you open your eyes, listening to his warning. he smirks and whispers down into your ear "good girl... you're so obedient for me mamas" he grins.

he pounds into you harshly, faint mumbles of " so-so sorry mamas... can't hold back anymore" as he drills into you, his grip on your hips was sure to leave a purplish bruise the next morning.

you feel the familiar know in your stomach tighten. "m'so close eijiro please!-" you mewl. "cmon baby... tell me who fucks you better? me or him?" he teases. "y-you do..." you mutter out, somewhat inaudible. he lightly slaps your cheek "the fuck was that?. tell me who the fuck you belong to-" he grunts out. "y-you, I only belong to you eijiro-" you cry out

"good girl, listenin to me so well..." eijiro grins and places a hand on your bud, digits rubbing quick circles all over it. bringing you over the edge.

your back arches and your thighs tremble. you let a loud moan as you feel the pleasure overwhelm you. the sight alone was enough to make kirishima reach his own high. he pulls out and begins to stroke his cock, letting out pretty groans as his lips part slightly.

long ropes of cum decorate your stomach as you both pant out heavily. you close your eyes, as you catch your breath. while you do so kirishima notices your phone on the other side of the bed, open.

he grabs it quickly without you noticing and snaps a quick photo. hurriedly tapping on your exes icon and sending him the photo.

"kinda sad that you let such a pretty girl like her go. it's okay i'd understand, you didn't deserve her anyways"

[churipu]

STUDYING WITH GOJO INCLUDES ✮⋆˙

featuring. gojo satoru x reader

warnings. clingy gojo, college! au, study buddies (u guys r dating) but he's unserious, soft gojo

note. sksjlddlsjjd look at me uploading anything but my 1k event, but pls i can't stop thinking abt studying with gojo and how unserious he will be during the session.

studying with gojo includes him whining about being bored because he's just naturally gifted — while you actually needed to study to match his brain capacity. he's a whiny baby about having to accompany you study when he was the one who volunteered to do so.

"baby, come on. can we please take a break? how long has it been? two hours?" he whines softly, his forehead had been stuck to the surface of the short table you had in your room. his long legs sprawled underneath it.

"satoru — it's been twenty minutes. and nobody forced you to be here, you can go if you want to," your answer only furthered his whining, like a small child who hasn't gotten what he wanted, he shifted a bit, letting the table move along with his movements; preventing you from focusing on the book you were scribbling on.

the man child finally pulls himself to sit up straight, a red blotch on his forehead. with furrowed brows, and a big frown on his face, he grabbed your pencil and tossed it across your room — sighing, you grabbed another one from your pencil case, and he did the same thing. only then after, the decided that throwing your pencil case across the room was the best choice.

"satoru, if you're not going to let me study, please leave."

yet again, another whine escaped his throat as he threw his head back onto your bed, "come on, 'ts good to take breaks, cuddle me, love me, pay attention to me!"

"we can do that later, 'ts a big exam next week . . ."

studying with gojo includes him distracting you with his love — whether it being a kiss, or just him stuck to your hips like a koala. he just needed a bit of love and attention as well.

gojo paced around your room, trying to distract himself from your silent form. poking around your figurines and shelves, looking through old year books, and even family albums. but nothing, he comes back to you, slotting your sitting form in between his open legs. gojo slithered his arms around your waist, burying his face into your shoulder.

"'m dying here y/n . . ."

your vague silence only offended him, "so y'don't care if your boyfriend's dying?"

sighing you replied, "i do care. but you're not," gojo grumbled under his breath, prepping his head up so his chin rested on top of your head, whistling out a a random tune that, of course, bothered you, "'toru, shut up."

"give me the love and attention that i deserve and maybe i'll stop," he nonchalantly said before continuing his whistling concert.

studying with gojo includes him finally being tired of not receiving what he wanted, and he turns sulky. his aura gloomy — and the corner of his lips tugged down into a big, giant frown.

gojo slipped himself under the table, resting his head on your thighs. the male looks up at you, only getting a good look of your chin and neck, he reaches his finger out, touching the tip of your chin before traveling down your neck.

still no love. or attention.

the male lets out one last (loud) sigh and tore himself away from you, plopping down on your bed. hiding under the covers, he curled himself up into a ball, his big back facing you — letting out grumbles under his breath as he hides his sorrow away.

you think gojo was being dramatic. he usually comes back, yearning for attention. but no, this time he didn't, just laying there on your bed for the next half an hour — where you coincidentally finished the last question in the practice page.

"satoru, are you asleep?" no answer. but the male shifted slightly, "satoru."

again, no answer. but gojo kicked his legs once, showing that he was indeed, not asleep at all. he had just been lying there, in the same position for the past half an hour.

"satoru, are you mad at me?"

gojo peeked one of his blue eyes from under the blanket and huffs childishly before grunting, he then prompted to pull down the blanket over his eye again. letting you have a taste of your own medicine, "fine, i was going to tell you that i can now give you love and attention. but you seem a little angry so i'm just gonna leave you alone—"

the male opened the blanket and pulled you under the warm fabric with him before covering you both, he immediately locks you in his embrace using a leg over your torso, "finally," he mutters out.

gojo pulled you in, a hand resting on your hips. his fingers raising the hem of your shirt just a bit to brush his digits on your skin intimately. he leans his head on top of your chest, "'m still mad at you if you're wondering."

chuckling, your fingers threaded with his white locks. your cheek pressed onto his head, "you're so childish, 'm not as smart as you, y'know? i need to study."

gojo hums softly, "there's still a week. seven days. you can start studying tomorrow, i promise i won't bother you then," he mutters out, his lips puckering into a small pout.

promises were meant to be broken anyways.

studying with gojo includes him promising he won't bother you the next time — and him ended up doing the same thing, because why study when you can love him instead?

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[kingofbodyrolls]

Moonglade (m) | kth

You’ve always been captivated by the sea—a love as deep and endless as the tides. But when tragedy strikes, that love turns bittersweet, and you find yourself drawn to the very thing that stole a part of your soul. Night after night, you pour your sorrows into the embrace of moonlight and whisper your pain to the stars. Then, one fateful evening, a merman surfaces from the depths—a being of myth and wonder. Will you dare to believe in fairytales and the magic of second chances? In hope, love, and the possibility of forever? Perhaps, he’s here to show you that even in the darkest corners, beauty and light can still thrive.

→ Pairing: taehyung x reader (female) → AUs: mermaid!au, fantasy!au, magical!au → Trope: strangers to lovers → Genres: fluff / smut / angst / romance / comedy → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 15.4k → Warnings (general) + triggers: mention of an accident at sea (doesn’t happen to reader), technically Tae’s first time with a human, this is again somewhat of a crackfic. → Warnings (explicit): unprotected sex (stay safe!), breast play, fingering, multiple orgasms (yes, it’s very very vanilla). → Read on AO3? [link] → Author’s note: this one takes place before Seokjin’s ‘When it Sinks In’. To be honest, I don’t know what I feel about this one… like I like it, but.. I’m so sorry that the smut turned rather short and ehh…Yeah, I don’t know. I might be too hard on myself. But here it is! And I hope you like it, please let me know 🪸

[s.masterlist] → this is part of a collection of series that are stand-alone one-shots, but all of them are set in the same universe. They are slightly connected though 🤭

Taehyung adores his underwater world—his home, the ancient and wondrous city of Naraeum, nestled deep in the sea beneath the waves. Though Naraeum stretches vast and magnificent, with coral spires and shadowed grottos echoing songs of old, his heart has always been tugged by a strange longing for the world above, the realm of humans. For Taehyung is a curious soul, drawn to the mysterious trinkets cast into the sea from distant shores. He loves nothing more than to seek out these treasures, to hold them in his hands, to wonder at their history, and to dream of what stories they might hold.

Today, he’s joined by Namjoon, his friend and fellow collector, whose fascination lies not in human relics but in the jeweled stones and sea-polished crystals that glimmer beneath the sands. Together, they comb the seabed, weaving through a forest of swaying kelp, their laughter rising like bubbles through the emerald currents. The seafloor is dense and rich with secrets, the sands thick with memories of shipwrecks and forgotten eras.

Suddenly, Taehyung catches a glint—a flash of something golden hidden beneath the silt. With a quick flick of his shimmering tail, he dives down, his fingers sifting eagerly through the cool, coarse sand until they find purchase on the small object. It’s a locket, tarnished and weathered by time, yet beautiful, its surface etched with delicate engravings that seem to whisper stories only the waves remember.

“What did you find?” Namjoon’s voice is soft with wonder as he swims close, his own satchel bulging with crystals and fragments of shells.

“A locket,” Taehyung murmurs, gazing at the relic in awe. Reverently, he loops it around his neck, letting it rest against his chest like a secret that has finally found its keeper.

“Are you just going to wear it like it’s yours? You don’t even know who it belongs to. What if someone’s searching for it?” Namjoon asks, crossing his arms, one brow lifted in mild reproach.

Taehyung huffs, clutching the locket as if it might vanish from his grasp. “I doubt any human misses it,” he mutters, voice carrying a soft defiance. “They’re the ones who cast it to the sea. Besides—finder’s keeper.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes but follows along, his own curiosity piqued, as they drift along the sandy seabed, sweeping their gaze over shells, stones, and hints of hidden treasure. Gradually, their winding path carries them back to the heart of Naraeum, their bustling city, where ancient, towering coral spires glow softly in the filtered light. They spot Seokjin waiting by the marketplace, chatting with a mermaid they don’t recognize.

“Hi, guys!” Seokjin waves as they approach, his face bright with a rare excitement.

Taehyung, always one for meeting new souls, looks curiously at the girl beside Seokjin, though he notices a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, the way she clings to his friend as if his presence alone anchors her. “Who’s that?” he asks softly, nodding toward the mermaid, whose gaze flits away, half-hidden by a veil of long hair.

“This is Soo-ah,” Seokjin explains, voice gentle. “I found her wandering near the outer reefs. She seems to have lost her memory—she doesn’t know where she’s from or which Cove she belongs to. I thought it best to bring her here.”

Understanding fills Namjoon’s eyes, while Taehyung’s expression softens with sympathy. He stretches a hand toward her, a warm smile on his lips. “Welcome to Naraeum, Soo-ah. I hope you’ll feel at home here.”

Soo-ah returns his smile, faint but genuine, her fingers brushing his in a tentative greeting before Seokjin nudges her forward, eager to show her the city’s wonders. With a soft laugh, Taehyung watches them go, feeling a flicker of something unplaceable in his chest as they disappear into the crowd.

A few days pass, and Taehyung is thrilled to have roped his friend Jimin into joining him for another treasure hunt. They swim beyond the city’s edge, far into the open sea, until the distant shore is visible, a shadowed line against the water’s surface. Jimin grumbles, claiming they’ve been swimming forever, but Taehyung only grins, his heart thrumming with anticipation. In the depths, beneath the waves, he knows more secrets wait to be uncovered.

“Look! A tiny mirror!” Taehyung squeals with delight as he catches a glint of light reflecting from the seabed, his eyes wide with childlike wonder.

“Big deal. We have mirrors at home, you know,” Jimin replies with a dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes. But he can’t hide his curiosity as he follows Taehyung deeper into the water, pulled along by his friend’s infectious enthusiasm.

They glide past a sunken shipwreck, its wooden bones stretching toward them like the fingers of an ancient ghost. Diving down, they slip through broken windows, marveling at the corroded cannons and the shadowed halls, their hands skimming over fragments of a life lost long ago. In one darkened cabin, Taehyung spots gleaming jewels and slips them into his bag with reverence, like they’re not just trinkets but pieces of a forgotten story. They pass skeletal remains, likely crew members left here by the merciless pull of the sea, and Taehyung feels a pang in his chest, a whisper of sorrow for those whose journey ended here, swallowed by the depths. But he presses on, the mystery pulling him further, and Jimin trails behind, loyal and watchful.

Eventually, with their search exhausted, they swim back out, drifting toward the distant shoreline, reluctant to head home just yet. The water grows darker, the sun having long ago slipped below the horizon, casting the world in an indigo glow. The stars above are a faint shimmer, barely visible through the shifting waves, and Taehyung knows that night has fully settled over the land.

“Shouldn’t we head back? Aren’t you tired yet?” Jimin mutters, his tone laced with fatigue, though his eyes still follow Taehyung’s every move.

Taehyung turns to him with a grin as wide and bright as a rising moon, his boxy smile full of boundless energy. “Tired? Never,” he laughs, his voice a spark in the endless sea, as he dives toward a narrow, shallow path, leading them further on into the night.

“I’ve never been here before…,” Taehyung whispers as he glides along the narrow, winding path and finally breaches the surface. He blinks, momentarily stunned, as he takes in the world above: towering trees cloaked in emerald leaves, their branches reaching toward the darkening sky. Fireflies drift like tiny stars, casting a gentle glow over the small forest lake, as if the night itself were holding its breath. Everything about this place feels enchanted, suspended between dreams and reality, and he stares in wonder, feeling the stillness settle into his bones. Even the air tastes different here, crisp and earthy, laced with secrets of the forest.

Jimin surfaces behind him, equally mesmerized, his usual playful demeanor replaced by silent awe.

Taehyung opens his mouth to speak, to share his amazement, when a faint sound catches his attention—a low, quivering hum that drifts over the water like a ghostly echo. He tilts his head, straining to hear, and the sound grows clearer, shaping itself into soft, broken sniffling. Realization dawns, a pang of worry blooming in his chest. Someone is crying. The sadness in the sound pulls at him, mysterious and raw, urging him to go closer, to uncover the source of the sorrow.

But before he can move, Jimin’s hand clasps his shoulder firmly, a silent warning in his eyes. “It’s time to go back,” he says, his voice a low murmur that barely breaks the surface of the lake’s hushed silence.

“But… I think someone’s crying!” Taehyung protests, his voice urgent, almost pleading. A tug in his heart urges him forward; he’s certain it’s a human voice, fragile and alone in the shadows. What could a human be doing here, by a hidden lake in the depths of night?

Jimin doesn’t answer. Instead, his grip tightens, pulling Taehyung back toward the water, his gaze steady, unyielding. Though Jimin is shorter and smaller, he’s surprisingly strong when he’s determined, and Taehyung, reluctantly, lets himself be led away. They dive beneath the lake’s surface once more, leaving behind the strange, moonlit forest and the sound of that lonely, haunting cry echoing in Taehyung’s mind all the way home. 

Even as the water wraps around him, soft and familiar, Taehyung can’t shake the image of that lake, of the fireflies and the trees like silent guardians. And most of all, he can’t shake the thought of the sad, unseen figure he left behind, and the mystery that still calls to him from above.

Resolute and drawn by a mystery he can’t shake, Taehyung returns to the hidden lake a few nights later, gliding through the darkened sea alone. The moon casts a silvery glow upon the water, guiding him back to the narrow path he discovered before, and he slips through the shadowy reeds, his curiosity mingling with an unspoken caution. 

He lifts his head just above the surface, the cool night air prickling his skin as the faint sound of quiet, broken sobs fills his ears. The sound is unmistakable, stirring something deep within him—a sadness so raw it seems to seep into the very air around him. He swims closer, yet stays hidden in the veil of darkness, and then, he sees you.

You sit hunched over on a small island of grass, surrounded by the lake’s gentle embrace. The weeping willows arch overhead, their slender branches draping the earth like curtains drawn to guard this secret moment. Moonlight filters through the leaves, casting delicate patterns across your trembling form. From his hidden vantage, he watches as you bury your face in your hands, your shoulders shaking with each quiet sob. The ache in your cries is almost palpable, as if you are mourning something or someone lost to you, and Taehyung can feel the weight of your sorrow, heavy and consuming.

He longs to comfort you, to reach out and tell you you’re not alone beneath the stars. But he hesitates, recalling the whispered warnings of the elders: merfolk must never reveal themselves to humans. And yet, he can’t pull himself away; something in your sadness binds him here, helpless yet watchful. He stays, his heart aching with each tear that falls from your eyes, his gaze soft and steady as he remains a silent guardian under the moon’s gaze.

The hours pass in this suspended quiet, the lake holding its breath alongside him. He wonders if you might need help, if you’ll fall asleep there, alone and exposed beneath the vast, indifferent sky. It feels wrong, somehow, for you to be here in this vulnerable state, with no one but the stars to witness your sorrow.

Finally, you stir, lifting your sleeve to wipe away your tears, and he sees your face—tired, puffy-eyed, but beautiful in its fragility. With a sigh, you gather your bag and rise to your feet, sniffing softly, unaware of the silent figure who watches from the water. As you walk away, Taehyung sinks lower, letting only his eyes peek above the surface, mesmerized as you vanish into the night, your soft footsteps fading into the shadows.

Even after you’re gone, he lingers, the memory of your sorrow imprinted on his heart like a delicate bruise. He doesn’t yet understand why, but he knows he’ll be back—drawn to this secret, to this mysterious, solitary figure who has turned his world upside down with a single, silent night of tears.

The following night, as darkness settles over the world, Taehyung finds himself returning to the lake. It’s as if an invisible thread pulls him there, some magnetic force in the quiet forest that he can’t resist. He has to know if you’re alright, if you’ll be there again. And you are—still alone, still crying softly into the night, a solitary figure wrapped in sorrow.

He lingers, hidden within the water’s embrace, watching you through a screen of willow branches that sway like ghostly fingers. He wonders what sorrow could be so deep, so relentless, that it brings you back here each night, spilling your heart into the midnight air. Part of him aches, wishing he could understand, that he could share even a fragment of your pain to ease your burden. The night around you is hauntingly beautiful with fireflies drifting like fragments of stardust, casting soft glows, and delicate stars wink down through the sheltering branches. It’s a scene of quiet magic, but he can see that you are lost within yourself, too consumed by sadness to notice the wonder all around you. 

Each night he returns, telling himself it’s only to ensure your safety, to make sure you’re not alone in your sorrow. Even though he knows nothing of your life—your name, your story—he feels drawn to you with an intensity he can’t explain, as if he were meant to watch over you, to shield you from some unseen hurt. Though he doesn’t know what shadows he’s protecting you from, he knows he cannot leave you to face them alone.

Night after night, he watches, until he’s lost count of the hours spent in silent vigil. In the quiet depths, he waits and watches, close enough now to see the details of your face, the way the moonlight catches on the tear-streaks, casting an ethereal glow over your delicate features. Even as you cry, he marvels at the beauty within your pain, the vulnerability that makes you shine like a rare treasure hidden in the night.

But his heart grows heavier each time he sees you, crouched and clutching your hands, lost in what seems an endless grief. He can feel the depth of your pain, a sadness that’s woven itself into the fabric of your being, yet he doesn’t know how to help or why you keep coming back to this hidden, enchanted lake. 

Though he knows the risks of venturing so close, of revealing himself to a human, he can’t keep himself from returning. And as he watches you once more, he feels the quiet stirrings of a promise within him, a silent vow that he will stay, night after night, until he finds a way to bring you peace—or at least until he’s certain that you’re not alone beneath the stars.

You lift your gaze to the sky, eyes reflecting the silver glow of the moon and the scattered dust of stars. A single tear slips down your cheek, catching the light, and Taehyung aches to reach out, to brush it away with the soft edge of his finger, to bring you comfort, if only for a moment.

But before he can act on the impulse, he feels a stirring in the water beside him. Gently, he swishes his tail, trying to nudge the small creature away. The silence of the night is broken when, suddenly, a sharp nip jolts him from his reverie. He turns to find an irate crab, its claw clamped tightly onto his tail. Biting back a curse, he shakes the little creature free, muttering under his breath as he pulls it loose. But in his flurry of movement, he hears the soft murmur of silence fall over the lake.

The crying has stopped. 

All around him, an eerie quiet settles, heavy and expectant. 

And then, drifting on the night air, a soft whisper trembles through the silence. “Hello? Who’s there?” 

The sound of your voice—fragile, uncertain, sweet with a hint of fear—strikes him still. His heart beats a little faster, and he pauses, debating with himself, caught between a desire to reveal himself and a need to stay hidden. He can sense your apprehension, see the way your form tenses as you look around, seeking the source of the noise in the shadows.

Before he can stop himself, he finds he’s already swimming closer, his curiosity overcoming his caution. His face breaks through the surface right in front of you, moonlight gleaming on his skin and you wide, startled eyes locking with his. The world holds its breath for a beat, until you release a piercing scream that echoes through the forest.

He flinches, shocked, and a nervous laugh bubbles up despite himself. Not quite the reaction he’d hoped for—but at least you’re not crying anymore, right? In that moment, he’s unsure if he’s brought wonder or fear to you, but he knows one thing for certain: the boundary between your worlds has shattered, and there’s no going back.

A scream rips from your lungs, raw and sharp, your hand flying to your heart as if to keep it from leaping out of your chest. But the sound dies in your throat as your eyes lock onto his, wide and brimming with disbelief. He stands there before you, framed by the moonlight, arms raised in a gesture of surrender, his gaze steady and soft, hoping to convey a harmlessness that transcends words.

You squint, brows furrowing as if he’s a puzzle to be solved, a creature from dreams suddenly come to life. In a quiet, almost reverent whisper, you ask, “Are you…a mermaid?”

“A merman,” he corrects with a gentle quip and a smile that flickers like sunlight on water. He slowly lowers his arms as he sees you relax, a tentative curiosity overtaking your fear.

A faint smirk tugs at the corner of your lips, though there’s still a trace of wariness in your stance. “You’re not here to…hypnotize me and drag me down to the bottom of the sea, are you?” you ask, arms crossing as you take a cautious step back.

He gasps, genuine alarm flashing across his face as he stumbles back a bit himself. “What? No!” he protests, voice pitching higher with surprise. “I’m a merman, not some Siren or Banshee!”

“What are you doing here, then?” you ask, voice edged with a fire he hadn’t expected, a fierceness that makes him certain you could hold your own if he meant any harm. But he doesn’t—and he aches to find the words that will ease the spark of worry in your eyes, to somehow convey that he’s here out of care, not threat.

“I…I’ve been watching you for a couple of weeks,” he begins, his words spilling out in a rambling rush, like a river suddenly freed of its banks. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright,” he adds, and too late, he realizes the impression his words might leave.

Your brow arches, your expression shifting to something between suspicion and shock. He feels his heart drop, an unwelcome warmth rising in his cheeks. “I—I mean, not watching you like that!” he stammers, lifting his hands in a flustered attempt to take back what he’s just said. “I just…saw you out here, and I was worried. You looked so…lost. I only wanted to make sure you were safe.”

A silence stretches between you, broken only by the soft rustle of willow branches and the distant call of a nightbird. He watches your chest rise and fall, sees the guardedness in your gaze slowly soften, the wary lines of your shoulders easing just a little, though you still hold yourself at the ready. 

“Alright…” you say slowly, still scrutinizing him with cautious eyes. “Let’s say I believe you. If you were so worried, why didn’t you ever try to…to comfort me?”

The question hangs between you, quiet and unexpected. He blinks, taken aback by the vulnerability in your words. When he speaks, his voice is softer, laced with the sincerity that has been tugging at him all this time. “I didn’t want to frighten you,” he admits, almost whispering. “I thought if I came too close…you’d be scared.”

For a moment, you both stand in that enchanted hush, the forest lake around you holding its breath. You see something in his face then—a tenderness, a yearning as deep as the water itself. And as you meet his gaze, a flicker of understanding passes between you, a fragile connection that neither of you can name, but both can feel.

“But you just did,” you say, the faintest chuckle slipping from your lips—not quite laughter, but something softer, tinged with a warmth he’d only dared to hope for. The sound pulls a smile from him, a quiet thrill sparking in his chest.

“True enough,” he murmurs with a sheepish chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “I really didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted to be sure you were safe. I’m…so sorry for any fear I caused.”

You take a deep, steadying breath, letting the tension slip away as you exhale. “It’s okay,” you reply, your voice gentle as a breeze over the water.

Slowly, you sink back onto the cool, dewy grass, crossing your legs and glancing up at him with wide, searching eyes. “So…merfolk really exist?” The words come out with a hint of disbelief, your gaze taking in his green, shimmering tail with a sense of wonder barely concealed.

“We do,” he replies simply, watching your eyes rove over him, lingering in equal parts curiosity and awe. But as your gaze lands on the glint of gold against his bare chest, your expression shifts—your eyes widening, bright and incredulous, until he nearly laughs at the sight.

“That’s mine!” you gasp, pointing at the golden locket resting between his pectorals, your voice ringing with surprise. His hand moves instinctively to the locket, his fingers brushing its cool, familiar surface as he looks back at you, eyes widening in realization.

“This locket?” he asks, almost reverently, his fingertips grazing the delicate chain as if it were fragile, precious. In that moment, something stirs in him—a connection, a story he doesn’t yet know, that seems to flicker to life between you both. 

“Yeah,” you breathe, your voice softening, as if the very air around you has shifted into something gentler. The tension in your shoulders melts away, and a sense of ease settles over you like a warm embrace.

You rise slowly, your movements graceful as you step closer, and without thinking, you stretch your hand toward the locket. But instead of touching the cool metal, your fingers brush the warm skin of his chest, sending a shiver through both of you. The touch is gentle, fleeting, but it lingers in the space between you, a silent understanding passing in the moment. Your skin is warm, and the contact, soft as a whisper, sends a soft flutter in his chest.

“If you open the locket,” you say, your voice almost a hush, “it’s engraved with a poem. It reads: ‘I am the moon; Queen of Night, a riddle wrapped in borrowed light, a silver spool where dreams unwind, an ancient orb as old as time’.” You recite the words with a quiet reverence, and when you finally realize your hand still rests on his chest, you jerk it back as if burned by fire, your cheeks flushing with sudden heat. “Sorry,” you murmur, your voice faltering in the slightest, a quiet apology hanging in the air.

Taehyung, his curiosity piqued, slowly opens the locket, his fingers tracing the delicate engraving you’d shared with him. As he reads the poem aloud in his mind, something stirs deep within him, an unspoken connection to the words. He looks at you with awe, as if the very essence of the poem were now tangled with the mystery of who you are. “A human... actually lost this?” he murmurs, a spark of wonder and disbelief in his eyes.

“How did you lose it?” he asks, his voice gentle but filled with the kind of curiosity that can only come from a heart that’s already begun to care. He carefully slips the locket from his neck and extends it toward you, offering it back with an open hand.

The moment your fingers close around the locket, you freeze, and for a fleeting second, the sadness he’d seen in you before resurfaces, washing over your face like a shadow. It pulls at something in him—something tender, something raw. 

Your gaze drops to the grassy earth, and the air between you grows heavy with the silence of unanswered questions. You don’t speak, your lips pressed tight, but the weight of what’s left unsaid hangs in the air, thick and palpable. The sadness is back, clinging to you like a second skin, and Taehyung can’t help but wonder: what lies behind that silence? What is it that haunts you?

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” Taehyung says softly, his voice a quiet balm to the growing tension between you. He runs a hand through his hair, trying to soften the weight of the moment. “I found it underwater. I didn’t think anyone would miss it.”

You offer a smile, fragile as the morning mist, barely lifting the corners of your lips. “It was a gift... from my grandmother,” you murmur, your voice dipping with the weight of time and loss. “She passed away many years ago. Thank you... for finding it.”

His heart tightens as he feels the atmosphere shift, like a delicate thread about to snap. The air feels heavier now, laden with unspoken sorrow, and he can’t help but sense the deep ache in your words, in the quiet sorrow that clings to you.

You settle back down onto the damp earth, and Taehyung sinks deeper into the water, the cool embrace of it helping to mask the vulnerability in his heart. He keeps his tail hidden, letting the water lap gently around his arms, his hands resting just at the edge of the shore, fingers brushing the cool grass as if grounding himself to the moment.

Then, your voice breaks the silence, soft but aching. “I lost it at sea…” The words fall from your lips like a whispered confession, each syllable heavy with grief, as though the sea itself had taken not just the locket, but a part of your soul.

Taehyung doesn’t speak right away. He only watches you, his eyes holding you with the quiet understanding of someone who knows that sometimes, silence is the only answer. In that silence, he feels the weight of your loss as if it’s now his to carry too.

“I was out on a yacht with my friends... one of them fell over, and she... she died,” you whisper, the words trembling in the air, and your breath catches, thick with the weight of grief. A sob escapes you, raw and unguarded, as the sorrow that has festered for so long finally surges, breaking free like a tide that’s impossible to hold back.

Taehyung’s heart lurches, and he leans in, his voice a soft, steady echo in the heavy silence. “I’m so sorry to hear that,” he says, his words wrapped in the deep sorrow he now shares with you, as if your pain has wound itself into his very soul. “You never found her?”

You shake your head, the motion slow, like each rejection of hope pulls you deeper into the abyss of loss. “We just assumed she drowned. But it was our fault... we didn’t even search for her... not long enough…” You pause, your gaze drifting out toward the water, your voice barely a whisper, yet so full of the weight of what’s unsaid. “That’s why I come out here…” The words falter as the tears begin anew. “I don’t know if I hope she’ll... magically appear, or if I just want to be closer to her—closer to the sea.”

The quiet understanding in Taehyung’s eyes deepens, and he nods, silently acknowledging the unspoken grief that binds you to the endless waves. 

“But it’s funny,” you continue, a bitter chuckle escaping your lips as you rub your face, trying to quell the storm inside. “I’m afraid of the ocean now.”

His heart aches at the contradiction—how the sea, which once held the promise of freedom, now holds only the echoes of a life lost, a fear that cannot be soothed by the tides. He says nothing, but his gaze speaks volumes, as he shares the silence of your struggle—caught between love and fear, between longing and loss.

He blinks, trying to fathom it—how you, who braved this quiet patch of land in the middle of the lake, could be encircled by the waters that both call to you and haunt you. The vast, endless sea, once a place of freedom, has become something fraught with sorrow.

“I could help you fall in love with the ocean again,” he murmurs, the words slipping out as naturally as the currents beneath him. He doesn’t know why he’s offering, doesn’t fully understand this urge to soothe your fear and restore what’s been taken from you. But he feels it—a pull to guide you back to the sea that you once cherished, to help mend the bond between you and the water.

When he sees your eyes widen with apprehension, he raises his hands gently, adding, “Only if you want to.” 

You ease a little, though the uncertainty remains, and in a barely audible whisper, you murmur, “I don’t know... I’m not sure I’m ready yet.”

He nods, understanding the weight of such a decision. “That’s okay,” he says softly. “Honestly, I just don’t want to see you cry anymore.” He offers a gentle smile, one that he hopes brings warmth and a touch of calm, like sunlight filtering through water.

You return the smile, albeit faintly, your expression softening. “Talking to you... it’s helped a lot,” you say, your voice filled with a quiet gratitude.

And in that shared moment, with only the stars and the whispering willows as witness, a fragile peace settles between you.

“But... I think I should get home now,” you murmur, pulling your phone from your bag. Its glow lights your face in the dimness. “It’s gotten really late.”

Taehyung nods, understanding, though a quiet pang tugs at his heart as he imagines this clearing falling silent again once you leave.

Then, to his surprise, you glance back at him, your gaze soft yet hopeful. “Will you be here tomorrow?”

The question catches him off guard; he stares at you, blinking, feeling for a moment like he’s been swept up by a wave. “If... you want me to?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper, unsure if he’s dared to hope too much.

A hint of color blooms on your cheeks, and you smile, gaze dipping shyly. “Yeah. I’d like that. I’d like to know more about you... and the merfolk. Maybe you could tell me some stories?”

His own grin spreads wide, an earnest promise shining in his eyes. “Absolutely. I’ll be here tomorrow—I promise.”

You rise, stepping lightly over a shallow stretch of water, your feet skimming the surface with a graceful leap. At the other side, you pause and turn, offering a small, lingering wave. He raises his hand in return, smiling as he watches you slip into the night, your figure fading into the shadows beneath the moonlit trees.

For a while, he simply remains, feeling as if the air is alive with all that was left unspoken, the night sky his only witness. And even as you vanish into the distance, Taehyung remains rooted, heart swelling with the promise of a tomorrow colored by your presence.

Thoughts of the brown-haired merman with the shimmering green tail have drifted through your mind since yesterday, haunting you like a half-remembered dream. It suddenly dawns on you that you don’t even know his name, and yet the memory of him fills your chest with a quiet, unshakable pull. Now, with night draping the town in deep blue shadows, you find yourself alone on the bus heading toward the outskirts, the only passenger riding out to the edge of the world. 

The hum of your playlist whispers through your earphones, blending with the rhythmic pulse of the bus engine as scenes of darkened fields and silhouetted trees slip by in the windows. Each mile draws you closer, heightening the anticipation tingling beneath your skin, until finally, the bus slows to a stop, releasing you into the night.

You step onto the gravel path and feel a strange comfort in the solitude. The night is vast, the air tinged with the earthy scent of pine and soil, and there are no streetlights to guide your way—only the faint glimmer of starlight scattered across the heavens above. Yet you know this path by heart; your feet follow its familiar curves as though led by an invisible thread. It’s just a kilometer and a half from here to the lake, but each step feels like a journey through realms unknown.

As you approach the grove, you see the willows, their branches swaying gently in the breeze, graceful arms weaving an entryway to something almost sacred. Your heart begins to race as you brush aside the delicate, trailing branches, slipping into the secret world they protect. The lake opens before you, quiet and timeless, bathed in silvery moonlight that dances over the water’s surface. Here, beneath the ancient watch of the willows, you enter a place where magic feels like it lives in every ripple and breath.

With a deep breath, you step closer to the lake’s edge, wondering if he’ll be there, waiting in the shadows between the water and the sky.

In the soft darkness, you quickly realize you’re alone; the lake is still, the merman nowhere in sight. With a small leap, you cross the shallow strip of water, landing on the tiny isle in the center of the lake. You settle yourself down, hugging your knees, feeling the hum of fireflies flickering around you, their gentle glow brushing the air with a living, golden warmth. 

Just as your mind begins to drift, a sudden ripple stirs the water before you, and then—there he is, his head emerging from the lake in a tumble of dripping, tousled brown hair. You flinch, nearly letting out a scream, your pulse skipping a beat at the surprise. But the alarm dissolves in a heartbeat as you recognize the familiar face smiling up at you, amusement twinkling in his dark eyes.

“Oh! I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, giggling as he smooths back his wet hair, his green tail flicking playfully above the water’s surface. The moonlight catches the emerald scales, each flicker a tiny flash of silver and jade. He uses his hands to wipe water from his face, looking all the while like he’s trying—and failing—to stifle a laugh.

“You didn’t scare me!” you insist, though the quick flush of heat in your cheeks tells otherwise, and you can tell from his grin that he sees right through it. You tilt your chin a little higher, hoping to hide your embarrassment, but he only chuckles, the sound warm and light as it drifts across the water.

“Well, I’ll believe you this time,” he says, smiling at you with a kind of open joy, as if the night was made for moments just like this. You smile back, feeling the tension melt away, replaced by a soft thrill in the air between you.

“Anyway,” you say with a playful glint in your eye, “I forgot to ask your name yesterday.”

He chuckles, low and warm, the sound rumbling like distant thunder. “I’m Taehyung,” he says, his voice rich as velvet.

“I’m Y/N,” you reply, offering a soft smile that he mirrors, a kind of light passing between you in the moonlit stillness. 

“So… will you tell me stories about merfolk?” you ask, curiosity woven into every word.

“Of course,” he says, his gaze turning mischievous, “but first, I have something to show you.” With a grin, he lifts a soaked, weighty bag from beneath the water’s surface, droplets glistening like tiny jewels as they cascade off the bag. You blink, leaning forward in wonder, trying to guess at the strange, heavy contents.

He pats the bag with a pride that makes you smile. “This,” he says, with a dramatic flourish, “is some of my collection of things I’ve found from the depths. I think most of it is from your world—the things you humans let slip beneath the waves. I thought you might help me make sense of it all, tell me stories about these objects. And in return,” his eyes twinkle, “I’ll give you stories about the world of merfolk.”

You smile at the offer, enchanted by his plan. “Deal,” you say, nodding as you gesture to the bag. “Can I look inside?” 

“Yeah, go ahead,” he says with a soft smile, his eyes glimmering as he watches you rummage through the bag. Your fingers curl around a heavy, ornate candelabra, its blackened metal arms twisting elegantly like frozen vines. You lift it out, chuckling as his gaze widens with childlike wonder. 

“What’s that thing called?” he asks, his curiosity unguarded, like a boy discovering treasures in a world he’s only dreamed of.

You laugh again, unable to help yourself, quickly hiding it behind the back of your hand as if to stifle the sound. “It’s a candleholder,” you explain, tracing one of its three arms. “You put candles in it to light up the dark.”

He nods, a thoughtful look crossing his face, though you suspect he has no idea what a candle even is. Gently, you set the candelabra down and reach into the bag once more, this time pulling out a pair of glasses. Their frames are thick and black, chipped slightly at the corners—worn with use but still sturdy.

He leans closer, fingers brushing yours as he takes the glasses and slides them onto his nose. They sit awkwardly on his face, far too large, but somehow, they suit him in that effortless way that makes you pause. He blinks, looking around, and then bursts into laughter, a sound as warm as sunlight on water. 

“Wow,” he chuckles, adjusting the frames that threaten to slide off. “I can’t see a thing.” 

The sight of him—eyes crinkled in amusement, wearing something so distinctly human—makes your heart catch for a moment. A creature of the ocean trying on the world of men, and somehow making it his own. 

You giggle softly, reaching forward to slip the glasses off his face, your fingers brushing the warm curve of his cheek. “That’s because they’re prescription glasses,” you explain, setting them down gently. “They’re made to match someone else’s eyes. Sad, really, that someone lost not just these, but maybe even the ability to see clearly.”

He nods, the curiosity in his eyes flickering like candlelight as he watches you tuck the glasses carefully back into the bag. Reaching in again, your fingers close around something sturdy and familiar. When you pull it out, your breath catches—a Nokia 3310. 

The sight of it pulls a laugh from your chest, bright and unrestrained, spilling into the night air. It’s the kind of laugh that folds you in half, clutching your stomach, until tears prick the corners of your eyes. Taehyung stares at you in bewilderment, his head tilting like a puzzled bird, as though you’d just grown fins.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, his voice tinged with genuine concern, as if your laughter might be some kind of human affliction. 

“It’s a phone,” you finally manage to say between giggles, holding up the clunky, ancient relic. “Though it’s… very old.” You run your thumb across the faded tactile buttons, memories bubbling to the surface like a tide returning to shore. “I used to have one just like this. It was one of my first phones, back when my parents finally trusted me to have one.”

His eyes widen, and he leans closer, curiosity sparkling like the fireflies around you. “What do you use it for?” he asks, reaching out to study it, his webbed fingers brushing yours as he takes the small, unassuming device into his hands. 

“For talking to people,” you reply, a hint of nostalgia softening your voice. “Texting, calling… staying connected. Although, this one isn’t exactly great for anything more than snake games and indestructibility,” you add with a grin. “It’s like the dinosaur of phones.”

He turns it over in his hands, fascinated, his tail flicking gently under the water. “Humans carry pieces of their voices in these tiny boxes,” he muses, half to himself, marveling at the strange, forgotten artifact. “How peculiar. And yet… how precious.” 

His words linger in the air between you, weaving something timeless into the quiet magic of the moment. 

“Oh,” he muses, lifting the phone to his ear as if it holds some kind of magic. “Hello?” he says, his voice laced with playful curiosity, pretending to talk to you through the tiny relic. 

Unable to resist, you pull out your own phone and press it to your ear, mirroring him just for the fun of it. “Like that,” you say, laughing, your voice light and airy as it drifts across the water. 

Taehyung smiles, wide and genuine, the corners of his eyes crinkling with boyish joy. The way the moonlight catches the sparkle in his gaze makes your chest feel lighter, as if you’ve inhaled the cool night air too deeply. 

He hands you the phone with a careful reverence, and you tuck it gently back into the bag, your fingers brushing against something new. With a slight tug, you pull it free—a lone shoe, scuffed and worn by time.  

Taehyung’s brow furrows, his expression tilting toward amused confusion. “What’s that? Do you… put it on your hand?” he asks, and there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes, like he’s already imagining some ridiculous scenario.  

The thought makes you laugh, the sound bubbling up like the ripples in the water. You picture him proudly sporting sneakers on his hands, his green tail swishing beneath him. “No,” you say through giggles, “it’s a shoe. Humans wear them on their feet—for walking.” 

He hums, a deep, velvety sound that reverberates through the air, and the richness of it stirs something strange and unbidden in the pit of your stomach. You ignore the feeling, shaking your head as you examine the shoe more closely. 

“Sad that there’s only one,” you muse, holding the sneaker in your palm like it’s a piece of some unsolved puzzle.  

“Why is that sad?” he asks, his voice genuinely curious. 

“Because we need two,” you explain, “one for each foot. Without its pair, it’s... incomplete.”  

Your words hang in the air for a moment, heavy with meaning you didn’t intend, and you quickly place the shoe back in the bag. Yet, as you glance at Taehyung, you wonder if he heard something more in what you said—if he noticed the quiet ache that flickered through your voice, the unspoken longing for things to feel whole again. 

Your hand brushes against something cold and metallic at the bottom of the bag, and it rattles faintly as you pull it out. The moment you register what it is, a flush of heat rushes to your cheeks.  

Taehyung tilts his head, his curiosity immediate and innocent. “What is it? What’s wrong?”  

It’s not his fault, you remind yourself. He doesn’t know. How could he possibly understand that a simple pair of handcuffs could mean so many different things—some harmless, others... not so innocent?  

Your grip tightens around the cuffs as they dangle from your fingers, the faint clink of metal against metal feeling louder than it is. His wide, unguarded eyes search your expression for answers, his confusion palpable. “What?” he presses again, his gaze flickering between you and the offending object.  

“They’re handcuffs,” you finally stammer, the words tumbling out as you desperately try to steer your thoughts away from the implications. You clear your throat, willing your heart to stop its frantic drumming.  

His brows knit together as he studies them, and then he looks back at you. “What do you use them for?”  

Your mouth goes dry. There’s no telling how much he knows about... well, things like that. And there’s no way you’re about to be the one to enlighten him. The blush spreads deeper across your cheeks, hot and unrelenting.  

“The police use them,” you blurt out, seizing the first explanation that comes to mind. “They use them to, uh, catch bad guys.”  

He blinks, processing this, then asks with genuine curiosity, “What’s a police?”  

“They’re people who keep the world in order,” you explain hastily, hoping your answer satisfies him as you lower the handcuffs back into the bag like they’ve burned you.  

Taehyung hums softly, his deep voice laced with thought. “Order…” he repeats, as if tasting the word. “I suppose merfolk don’t really have anything like that. The ocean tends to sort itself out.”  

His answer is innocent, but something about it pulls at you. The idea of a world where chaos is natural and balance finds its own way feels... strange, almost liberating. You glance at him, and his green tail flicks gently beneath the surface of the water, shimmering faintly like a piece of living art.  

“Well, up here, we’re a bit messier,” you say, smiling faintly, though your cheeks are still warm.  

He chuckles, the sound rich and comforting, and you realize, despite your embarrassment, that you don’t entirely mind explaining things to him. His curiosity is sincere, untouched by judgment, and somehow that makes all the awkwardness easier to bear. 

You sigh, the weight of your patience thinning, eager to get through this final item so the stories of the sea can take center stage.  

“There’s only one thing left,” Taehyung says with a sly smile, a glint of mischief flickering in his eyes like sunlight on water.  

Thank god, you think, nearly rolling your eyes as you reach into the bag. But the moment your fingers wrap around the last object, you freeze. The shape is unmistakable, and a flush creeps up your neck as realization sets in. Yanking it out, you take one horrified look before letting out a sharp shriek and dropping it as if it’s burned you.  

“What? What is it?” Taehyung asks, wide-eyed and concerned as he scoops up the item you just cast away like cursed treasure. His fingers turn it over curiously, the innocent tilt of his head at complete odds with the very not innocent object in his hands.  

Your mind races as you stare at him, slack-jawed, while he inspects the bright pink rabbit vibrator with the studious attention of an archaeologist uncovering an ancient relic.  

Why would anyone throw that into the ocean? you manage to think, your inner voice barely louder than the pounding of your heart. The question burns in your mind: How the hell am I supposed to explain this to him?  

He looks up at you with a grin that could melt glaciers, utterly oblivious, and the sparkle in his eyes seems almost too amused. The corners of his lips curve just a touch more, and for a fleeting second, a traitorous thought worms its way into your head: Does he know what it is?  

“Do you know what that is?” you ask, your brow arching sharply as you try to mask your embarrassment with skepticism.  

He blinks, shaking his head with a childlike earnestness that you don’t entirely trust. “No.”  

But there’s something in his expression, a faint glimmer of mischief that makes you wonder. Could he possibly know what’s currently resting in his slender fingers, a bright pink beacon of mortification? Surely not. How could he?  

“So… what is it?” he asks again, his deep voice smooth and unbothered as if he’s holding a piece of driftwood instead of—that.  

You stammer, words failing you as you try to claw together an explanation. “It’s... it’s a—a toy,” you finally spit out, the word awkward and foreign on your tongue.  

“A toy?” he repeats, his curiosity piqued even further. He looks at it again, squinting at the smooth curves and the dual protrusions like he’s deciphering an ancient riddle. “For children?”  

“No!” you yelp, your voice far too loud as heat blooms across your cheeks. You clasp your hands over your face, groaning. “Not for children. Definitely not for children.”  

He raises a brow, clearly unsatisfied with your vague response. “Then what kind of toy—?”  

You gulp, your cheeks blazing a crimson so fierce they rival the setting sun. The word catches in your throat, but you force it out in a mortified whisper: “It’s... a vibrator.”  

Taehyung tilts his head, his expression innocent, as if the word carries no weight. “Oh, like a massager?” he asks, his long fingers fumbling with the object. The moment it buzzes to life, a low, mischievous hum filling the air, you nearly leap out of your skin.  

The sound seems impossibly loud, vibrating not just in your ears but in the marrow of your bones. He holds it up, studying it with an inquisitive squint. “Where do you use it? Your neck?” he muses, moving to press it behind his back like it’s some magical cure for tension.  

“No!” you shriek, lunging forward in sheer panic. The idea of where it’s been—god, where it’s definitely been—makes your skin crawl. Sure, it’s been submerged in saltwater for who knows how long, but still, the thought is mortifying.  

He pauses, blinking at your outburst, the vibrator buzzing innocently in his hand. His gaze settles on you, expectant, waiting for an explanation you’re loath to give.  

You clear your throat, the heat in your cheeks now spreading to the tips of your ears. “It’s for women,” you mutter, your voice barely audible, “for their... vagina. Now, please, turn it off and put it away.”  

To your immense relief, he does as you ask, clicking it off with a soft whir. But instead of letting it go, he looks at you with wide, curious eyes. “Oh,” he says simply. A beat of silence stretches between you before he tilts his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Have you used one before?”  

Your stomach drops, and for a moment, you swear the earth could crack open beneath you and swallow you whole. Your fingers fidget nervously, and you refuse to meet his gaze. “I... have,” you mumble, your voice so quiet it’s almost swept away by the breeze.  

“Was it good?” he asks, his tone so casual it borders on maddening.  

Your heart pounds so hard it might shatter your ribcage. You feel the blush deepen, a fiery bloom spreading across your face as you croak, “Yeah.”  

His curiosity, however, is relentless. “What do you know about sex anyway?” you huff, folding your arms and glaring at the lake to avoid his amused gaze.  

He grins, that devilish sparkle dancing in his eyes. “Oh, I know plenty,” he says, his voice dipping just enough to send a shiver up your spine. “My friend Seokjin told me all about how humans have sex.”  

He waggles his eyebrows in a way that’s both infuriating and utterly ridiculous, and you feel your mortification morph into fury.  

“Wait a minute,” you fume, narrowing your eyes at him. “You knew what the handcuffs and vibrator were from the start, didn’t you?!”  

His grin grows wider, unapologetically mischievous. “Maybe,” he admits, his voice lilting like a playful melody. “But watching you explain them was way more fun.”  

You glare at him, seething, but there’s no denying the way his laughter dances across the air, warm and infectious. Against your better judgment, the corners of your lips twitch upward, because even in your mortification, there’s something oddly endearing about his teasing.  

“You’re insufferable,” you mutter, shaking your head.  

“And you’re adorable when you’re flustered,” he counters, his tail flicking in the water, sending ripples out to the edges of the lake.  

And though you’re still burning with embarrassment, a small part of you can’t help but be grateful for the way he makes you laugh—even at your own expense.  

Your chest rises and falls as you try to catch your breath, your face blazing like the setting sun, and he just throws his head back, laughter erupting from him in a way that feels alive. It’s full-bodied, unrestrained, his boxy smile lighting up his features as his hands clutch at his stomach, right where shimmering scales meld seamlessly into the emerald sweep of his tail.  

You shake your head in disbelief, unable to fathom how he managed to fool you so effortlessly. But then, it’s impossible to hold onto your indignation when his laughter is so contagious, so you let it pour out of you too—a melody that dances through the night. The sound makes his laughter falter for just a moment, his eyes softening as he looks at you like he’s discovered something rare and wondrous.  

If only you knew, Taehyung thinks, how your laughter could make even the coldest depths of the ocean feel warm.  

The weeks that followed your first meeting have felt like a dream—magical. Night after night, you find yourself drawn to the lake, a place where the lines between your two worlds blur. Each time, Taehyung emerges with treasures gathered from the ocean floor, and you sit together, exchanging pieces of your lives—your world above the waves and his far below.  

“And that’s how Jungkook and I pranked Yoongi,” he says, his laughter spilling into the quiet night as he recounts his mischievous escapades. “He was so pissed, he didn’t talk to us for a week.”  

You laugh too, the image vivid in your mind—Taehyung and his friend causing an octopus to release its ink, staining this poor Yoongi guy’s skin entirely. The chaos, the yelling, the grumbling that followed—it all paints such a comical picture you can’t help but giggle.  

“I mean,” he adds between gasps of laughter, wiping at the corners of his eyes, “Yoongi didn’t say much. He just grumbled a lot... after shouting every curse word he could think of.”  

By now, he’s laughing so hard that tears threaten to spill, his cheeks flushed and his voice trembling with mirth.  

“Oh, don’t cry,” you tease, grinning as you reach out instinctively, your hand brushing against his cheek. The touch surprises both of you, and his laughter fades, replaced by a gentler smile as he leans ever so slightly into your hand. His skin is warm beneath your fingertips, smooth and soft where it meets his scales.  

“I’m not crying,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, the depth of it resonating like a gentle current. His dark eyes hold yours, reflecting the scattered stars above. “But I’m glad to see you laughing more.”  

The words hang in the air between you, delicate and sincere, like the faint glow of the fireflies flitting around the lake. His smile doesn’t waver, but there’s something in the way he looks at you now, something tender and unspoken, that makes your heart race.  

For a heartbeat, neither of you speaks. The only sound is the soft rustling of the willow branches swaying in the breeze and the gentle lapping of the water against the shore. In his gaze, you see more than curiosity or mischief—you see wonder, connection, and something that feels achingly close to magic.  

“Is there more I could do to cheer you up?” he asks, his smile boyish, eager, and filled with a kind of tenderness that seems to spill effortlessly from him. You’ve noticed how much he wants to see you happy—how his every word and action feels like a quiet offering meant to lift the weight you carry.  

You hesitate, your mind swirling with possibilities, but one thought rises above the rest. It’s ridiculous, improbable, and utterly reckless, but it’s been there, simmering in the back of your mind since the night you first met him. He stirs something in you—something unspoken, electric, and undeniably human. Before you can stop yourself, the words tumble out, bold and wild, carried by the wind like a confession.  

“Sex would totally cheer me up.”  

For a moment, everything stops. His eyes widen, an ocean of surprise rippling in them, before a smirk curves his lips—a little hesitant, a little mischievous. Then, in a voice softer than you’ve ever heard from him, he says, “I’ve never had sex with a human before.”  

The quiet sincerity of his response steals your breath. You were half-joking, throwing the words out as a way to tease him, to distract yourself from the fluttering chaos he always seems to spark in your chest. But his honesty hits you like a wave, and now you’re drowning in the thought—was he taking you seriously?  

Was he considering it?  

Your heart beats like a drum, your cheeks burning as you search his expression for some clue, some sign that this is all just a playful exchange. But there’s something about the way he looks at you, the way his gaze holds yours, curious and unflinching, that makes your pulse race even faster.  

In a voice barely above a whisper, you ask, “Do you… want to have sex with me?” Your words hang in the air, delicate and trembling, but before he can respond, you falter, retreating into the impossibility of it all. “I mean—how would that even work? Can you even have sex with a human?”  

His laughter comes then, rich and warm, breaking the tension like sunlight spilling over water. “I’d just have to turn human,” he says with an exaggerated wiggle of his brows, the teasing glint back in his eyes. “And don’t worry—Seokjin’s already told me everything I need to know.”  

You blink, your mind struggling to process the words, the sheer audacity of them. Turn human? Was that even possible? And what on earth had Seokjin told him?  

“Wait—are you serious?” you manage to say, your voice caught between disbelief and something else, something dangerously close to hope.  

He leans in slightly, his face alight with a playful kind of mystery. “Why don’t you find out?” he murmurs, his voice a velvet thread that winds its way into your chest, tightening the knot of emotions there.  

For a moment, you’re lost—in his eyes, in the tantalizing possibility of the unknown, in the way he makes the world feel both infinite and impossibly small. And beneath it all, you can’t help but wonder: could he really mean it? Or was he just as caught up in this strange, electric pull between you as you were?  

“You really want to have sex with me? And you’ve never told me you could turn human?” you exclaim, your hand instinctively landing on his chest with a light slap. His skin is warm under your touch, the smooth planes of muscle glistening faintly in the moonlight.  

He chuckles, a low, velvety sound that sends ripples through the night air. “Yeah, I want to,” he says without hesitation, his gaze steady and unwavering. “And if it’ll cheer you up, that’s all the more reason.”  

Before you can fully process his words, he begins to rise from the water, his powerful arms pulling him closer to you. Each movement is deliberate, almost hypnotic, his biceps flexing effortlessly as he drags his weight onto the land. When he finally settles next to you, you’re keenly aware of the space—intimate and charged—between you.  

Unable to resist, your fingers reach out to graze his tail. The scales are cool and slick beneath your touch, shimmering faintly with an otherworldly sheen, and you marvel at how something so strange can feel so natural to you now.  

“By the way,” you murmur, suddenly self-conscious, “I was joking when I said it would cheer me up.” The words come out softer than you intend, as a realization settles over you like the whisper of a tide. What if this actually happens? What if he’s doing this only to make you happy? A knot twists in your stomach—you don’t want this just for you. You want him to want this, too.  

But before you can say another word, he leans in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that steals your breath and floods your senses. He moves with a bold tenderness, his tail slipping between your legs, his fin brushing against your feet with a feathery caress.  

And then, the air around you shifts.  

A sudden burst of light swirls between you, glittering like a thousand stars spilling from the heavens. The world tilts as the sparks dance and cascade, wrapping you both in a cocoon of shimmering magic. It’s like something out of an anime—a transformation unfolding in real time, and you’re at the center of it all.  

When the light fades, you blink, your breath hitching as you realize what’s happened.  

He’s no longer a merman.  

He’s human now, entirely, gloriously human, and he’s in your arms—warm skin pressed against yours, lean legs sprawled over yours, and oh god, utterly naked.  

“Oh my god,” you gasp, your voice breaking into a startled shriek as your eyes dart over his form. He’s… breathtaking. Sculpted shoulders, a chest that looks like it was carved from marble, thighs thick and strong, and—  

You gulp, your gaze snapping up to his face as heat floods your cheeks. “You’re completely naked,” you manage to stammer, though your eyes betray you, flickering downward for just a fraction of a second. His cock is thick and wide, making your pussy clench around nothing with need.

A mischievous grin spreads across his face, completely unbothered by his nudity. “You seem surprised,” he teases, his voice warm and teasing, yet carrying an edge of something deeper, something magnetic.  

“Surprised?!” you exclaim, your hands flying up to cover your face, though it does nothing to erase the mental image seared into your brain. “You didn’t warn me there’d be sparkles—or that you’d be… be…”  

“Naked?” he supplies, his grin widening as he shifts, sitting up fully now, his confidence evident in every movement.  

“Yes, naked!” you blurt, peeking through your fingers before quickly looking away, though the heat pooling in your stomach betrays you.  

He chuckles again, a sound so rich and unguarded it makes your heart flutter. “Well, you did say you wanted me human,” he says, leaning in closer, his voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “Didn’t think you’d mind the details.”  

And as you sit there, utterly flustered and yet inexplicably drawn to him, you realize that everything about him—his laughter, his boldness, his very existence—is impossible and wonderful and so entirely him.  

You can’t explain it, but he feels impossibly firm against your fully clothed body, his presence electric, igniting something deep inside you.  

“Are you sure you want this?” you ask, your voice trembling with anticipation as he moves closer, his heat radiating like a flame that threatens to consume you.  

He nods, his gaze unwavering, filled with earnest longing. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I first laid eyes on you.”  

His words are a confession, each syllable laced with reverence, and the look in his eyes—adoring, worshipful—makes your heart stutter. It feels like magic, a spell binding you to him.  

“Okay,” you whisper, the word a contradiction—both weighty and featherlight, heavy with unspoken desire yet liberating in its surrender. “Me too.”  

And that’s all it takes. You move, pulling him into you, your lips colliding like the meeting of two storms. His kiss is both a promise and a claim, as though you’re the air he needs to live, and he the fire you’ve long craved.  

Slowly, with a patience that speaks of devotion, he begins to undress you. Each garment falls away as if he’s unveiling a masterpiece, his hands reverent, his movements deliberate. When you’re bare before him, his gaze darkens, his eyes almost black with desire.  

“Beautiful,” he breathes, the word half-hissed, as though the sight of you has stolen the air from his lungs.  

His hand follows the curve of your body, his touch like a whisper of silk. He starts at your face, tracing your jawline with tender precision, down your neck to your collarbones, his fingers pausing there as though savoring their discovery.  

When his hand reaches your breasts, he marvels, his eyes lit with something almost holy. He cups you gently, his thumb brushing over your nipple with deliberate care before giving the softest pinch. The sensation sends a jolt through you, and you can’t stifle the moan that escapes your lips.  

Your breathing quickens, matching the rhythm of your racing heart, and for a moment, the world narrows to his touch, his gaze, the unspoken symphony of longing between you.

“Beautiful and soft,” he murmurs, his voice a low caress that seems to reverberate through your very soul. His hands move with reverence, each touch deliberate as he plays with the sensitive bud, his thumbs circling slowly, then firmly, coaxing pleasure to bloom within you like wildflowers in moonlight. Your back arches, surrendering to the heavens, the stars and moon bearing witness to your abandon.  

A moan escapes you, unbidden, as a delicious heat prickles along your skin, pooling low in your core. Your body clenches with a desperate, aching need, the anticipation winding tighter, a tether you’re helpless to sever.  

Leaning in, he captures one of your peaks with his tongue, the wet warmth making you gasp. He laps and sucks, teasing the sensitive bud, alternating between delicate flicks and firm pulls that make you shiver. His name tumbles from your lips like a prayer, your breathing fractured, chest heaving beneath his attentions.  

The pleasure courses through you, each wave leaving you more undone. His hand glides downward, slow and purposeful, until his fingers find the slick heat between your thighs. When he touches your clit—softly, tenderly—you cry out, the sensation a spark igniting the kindling of your desire. He rubs in slow, steady circles, his movements measured, drawing your body taut like a bowstring.  

You open yourself to him, your legs parting further, an invitation, a plea for more. He obliges, his touch deepening, pressing just enough to send your mind spiraling. Your lips part as his name falls again, broken yet fervent:  

“Taeh—”  

He releases your nipple with a wet pop, the sound somehow sinful and divine all at once. His mouth captures yours in a kiss that is both fierce and tender, his fingers never faltering as they continue their dance, coaxing you toward the edge of bliss.  

“Oh, damn—I’m coming,” you gasp, the words barely coherent as the orgasm crashes into you like a tidal wave, sudden and overwhelming. Your body trembles, arching and writhing beneath him as he keeps his fingers pressed to your clit, guiding you through the storm.  

The world dissolves, nothing remaining but the feel of him—the press of his hand, the warmth of his lips, and the intoxicating scent of crushed grass and wildflowers mingling with your release. You shatter, and he holds you there, steady and unyielding, until every last tremor has subsided, leaving you breathless, boneless, and utterly his.  

You pant, lost in the haze of bliss, when his lips find yours again, deep and searching. He pulls back, his breath hot against your skin, and whispers, “Lay down.”  

Everything seems to blur and quicken as you lower yourself to the cool, soft grass, your body now bare beneath the endless expanse of the night sky. You gaze up at him—his silhouette framed by a sea of stars, the moon casting a halo around him. He looks almost otherworldly, his form glowing with an ethereal radiance that makes your heart race. He is a creature of light and shadow, of dreams made flesh.  

“Are you ready?” he asks, his voice a low rumble that makes your pulse quicken. His finger traces the delicate line of your most intimate place, circling your entrance slowly, gauging your arousal. You nod, biting your lip, a thrill of anticipation coursing through you.  

“Yes,” you whisper, and the word feels like an offering, a surrender.  

“Okay,” he breathes, his own desire evident in the strained sound of his voice. He grabs his cock, guiding it toward your trembling pussy, his eyes dark with longing.  

He enters you in one slow, deliberate thrust, filling you completely. The stretch is delicious, his thickness causing you to gasp, your body trembling with the sensation. It’s a sweet burn, a delicate ache that soon blooms into pleasure so intense you can hardly contain it.  

“You’re so tight,” he groans, his voice rough with pleasure, as he buries himself fully inside you. His breath hitches in your ear, and you smile up at him, your fingers lightly brushing his face. “You can move,” you murmur, your voice laced with both permission and longing.  

And move he does. He snaps his hips into you, a rhythm fast and unforgiving, each thrust driving deeper, harder, until it feels like the world is collapsing around you. You arch into him, your back lifting off the ground, the fire of his touch igniting every inch of your body. His gaze is fixed on you, unblinking, as though he’s memorizing each beautiful movement you make. You feel like you’re the only thing that matters in this moment, like you belong to him, body and soul.  

Above you, fireflies weave a dance of light, their tiny bodies glowing like stars that have fallen to earth, illuminating the scene with an otherworldly magic. Everything feels heightened, suspended in a perfect, timeless moment.  

His thrusts become faster, more urgent, and he grunts, the sound of it raw and desperate. “Does it feel good?” he asks, his voice hoarse, as if the question alone is a prayer.  

You can only nod, your words lost in the haze of desire, the world around you fading until it’s just him, just this—his body moving against yours, his love, his devotion, filling every corner of your being. The stars burn brighter, the moon shines sharper, and the night is alive with the pulse of your passion.  

“Yeah, fuck, keep going,” you gasp, your voice strained with pleasure as one hand drifts between your legs, your fingers pressing against your clit, adding to the fire building within you.  

“If you hadn’t told me this was your first time, I never would have believed it,” you moan, a light laugh escaping your lips at the irony, the sound breathless and full of delight.  

“I’m a quick study,” he replies, his voice thick with desire, the words almost lost in the rhythm of his thrusts, which grow faster and harder, filling you with a sweet, burning ache.  

“I can tell,” you chuckle, the sound laced with arousal as your body tightens around him, waves of pleasure building relentlessly. You feel your pussy pulse, clenching around him, your mind spiraling deeper into lust. You know it's coming—the release.  

And then it hits, a wave of ecstasy so powerful it consumes you, making you tremble beneath him. Your body contracts around him, pulling him deeper, and you can’t help but watch the way his face contorts in bliss, as he too is undone by the intensity of it. His own release is mirrored in the expression he wears, raw and breathtaking.  

His breath catches, a strained groan slipping past his lips as he pants your name. “Shit... I think I’m coming too.” 

With a few more desperate thrusts, he pushes into you, then pauses, his body tense, his warmth flooding you as his release spills deep inside. He falters, his chest heaving as he gathers his breath, his hands resting on your body, feeling the heat of the moment linger between you.  

“Holy shit, that was amazing,” he murmurs, his voice ragged, as he gently pulls away, a mixture of your essences slipping from you. You lie there, still breathless, feeling the aftershocks of your climax.

“Yeah,” you chuckle softly, your voice light, your mind floating in a haze of pleasure. The world around you feels like a distant echo, the only reality is the sensation of your skin against his and the shared stillness between you.

He falls beside you, pulling you close, his arm draped over you as the two of you gaze up at the sky. The moon casts a gentle glow over you both, and the stars seem to shimmer with a quiet promise, as if the universe itself is watching over this moment—a perfect, fleeting connection.  

Together, you breathe in the night air, wrapped in the softness of each other, lost in the beauty of the silence and the stars above.  

“Okay,” you whisper, the tremor in your voice barely audible over the soft rustle of the night. “I’m only doing this because you’re a great swimmer.” You pause, searching his eyes for reassurance, then add with a nervous smile, “And in return, I’ll take you into town and show you the human world, yeah?”  

Taehyung nods, his boxy grin softening into something earnest, something that feels like a promise. His hand is warm in yours, grounding you as your feet hover over the edge of the water. The lake stretches before you, dark and endless, the moonlight spilling across its surface in molten silver. It looks almost too serene, as if the stillness is holding its breath just for you.  

His words from before echo in your mind: “Let me help you. Let me bring you back to the sea you loved so much.” And though fear thrums in your chest, louder than the cicadas singing in the trees, you want this—you need this.  

Steeling yourself, you take a step forward. The water laps at your toes, cold and sharp, sending a cascade of goosebumps along your arms. You grip Taehyung’s hand tighter, his skin smooth and cool beneath your fingers, and he squeezes back, a silent gesture of encouragement.  

The moon seems to follow your every movement, its light dancing on the rippling water as you wade further in. Your breath quickens as the chill seeps into your skin, prickling and biting, but you push through. Each step feels monumental, each shift of your weight a battle between fear and the yearning to reclaim what you’ve lost.  

“That’s good,” he murmurs, his voice like a lullaby in the quiet night. His tail flicks softly beneath the surface, the faint ripple of green scales catching the moon’s glow.  

The lake deepens around you until the water clings to your shoulders, wrapping you in its cool embrace. And then, almost unexpectedly, the fear begins to ebb away. The weight of it dissolves into the lake as you exhale, replaced by a gentle calm that fills the spaces where terror once lived.  

You look up at Taehyung and meet his eyes, wide and filled with wonder. He’s smiling again, that signature grin of his lighting up the night in a way the moon could never replicate. You can’t help but smile back.  

“Do you want to go further out?” he asks, his voice impossibly soft. The question hangs between you, fragile yet full of promise. “Into the ocean?”  

You bite your lip, your heart pounding—not from fear this time, but from the exhilaration of possibility. Slowly, you nod.  

Without a word, he tugs you gently, his hand guiding yours, his tail slicing through the water with an effortless grace. Your legs begin to move, kicking hesitantly at first, but then with growing confidence. He keeps you close, his touch steady and protective, and together, you leave the lake behind.  

The lake falls away into the vastness of the open water, the air thick with salt and magic. The stars scatter above you, a million glimmering diamonds against the velvet sky. The water, now alive with bioluminescent trails from Taehyung’s tail, shimmers with an ethereal glow.  

You’re weightless here, suspended between the heavens and the depths, and it feels like stepping into a storybook. The world is no longer fractured or frightening—it’s whole, alive, and breathtaking.  

And beside you, Taehyung glides effortlessly, his presence a soothing balm to your once-shattered heart. In this moment, with the ocean opening up before you and the stars watching over, you know one thing for certain: you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.  

“You’re doing really good,” Taehyung says, his voice warm and soothing. “Try kicking more with your legs.”  

You follow his advice, your legs cutting through the water with newfound confidence, and before long, you’re pulling him along behind you, laughing as the cool waves ripple against your skin. You knew from the start he couldn’t truly teach you how to swim—his tail was no match for human legs—but Taehyung doesn’t need to. His presence is grounding, steadying, a quiet assurance that you’re safe.  

You realize now what he meant by helping you: not instruction, but support. The kind of unwavering belief that holds you together, even when you feel like falling apart.  

As you let go of his hand and strike out on your own, a rush of elation courses through you. You’re not just swimming—you’re reclaiming a part of yourself you thought was lost. The ocean, once a source of dread, now feels like an old friend. The fear that gripped you for so long begins to dissolve as you glide through the water, your laughter mingling with the soft lapping of the waves.  

Memories rise, bittersweet and unbidden, of why you were scared to return to this vast expanse. The sea had taken something from you, something precious—the storm that swept in like an uninvited guest, the yacht pitching, and the moment your friend was lost over the railing. For so long, you blamed the ocean for that night, as if its depths had swallowed your joy. But now, floating under the gentle gaze of the moon, you see it differently.  

The sea is not cruel, you think. It’s wild and untamed, yes, but not malicious. The storm wasn’t its doing—it was just a fleeting chaos in a vast, timeless rhythm. And in this moment, it feels too grand, too beautiful to carry hatred for.  

“Look at you!” Taehyung giggles behind you, his voice buoyant and bright. “You’re a natural!”  

You beam, the cool water cradling your body as you bask in your rediscovered love for swimming. “I’ve always loved this,” you admit, your voice soft with wonder.  

He swims alongside you, his tail carving shimmering paths through the water like brushstrokes on a dark canvas. The stars overhead seem to dance in approval, their reflections glittering on the surface around you. This—this moment—is everything. Swimming beneath the moon, the world hushed save for the symphony of waves and distant cicadas, feels like stepping into a dream you’d never dared to live.  

“Thank you,” you say suddenly, your voice carrying all the weight of your gratitude. You swim closer, throwing your arms around him in a hug that’s both wet and warm, your lips brushing his cheek in a soft kiss. “Thank you so much, Tae.”  

He smiles, his boxy grin full of affection, and he pulls you close in return. “You’re welcome,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead that feels as soothing as the water surrounding you.  

And then you’re off again, splashing and twirling, laughter spilling from your lips like a melody carried by the wind. Taehyung follows, his laughter joining yours, the two of you creating ripples in the starlit expanse. For the first time in what feels like forever, you feel free—weightless, unburdened, as if the sea has forgiven you, just as you’ve forgiven it.

It’s the middle of the afternoon, the sun casting dappled light through the willow trees as you make your way to the lake. The air hums with the sound of cicadas, and the gentle rustle of leaves parts like a curtain as you step through, revealing him waiting on the shore. Taehyung’s gaze snaps to you, and for a moment, he forgets the world around him.  

You’re dressed simply—skin-tight jeans that cling to your curves and a silky blouse that catches the light, its neckline teasing just enough to leave him utterly captivated. The way the sunlight dances off your skin makes his chest tighten, though he’s not entirely sure why.  

“I brought you clothes,” you say with a bright smile, lifting the bag in your hand. The way your voice lilts makes him feel as if you’ve given him a gift far more precious than mere fabric.  

He slides up to the shore with effortless grace, his tail shimmering as it transitions from water to grass. For a few moments, he lies there, waiting for the transformation. And then it happens. Sparkles swirl around him, catching the afternoon sun like scattered diamonds, and when the magic fades, he’s there—human, bare, vulnerable, and utterly breathtaking.  

You feel your cheeks heat but quickly hand him the bag to spare yourself further fluster. He takes the clothes with a sheepish grin, his fingers brushing yours as he does.  

The trousers hang loose on his lean frame, and the dark shirt pools around his shoulders, but there’s something charming about the way he wears them, as though he’s stepped from another world into yours. The sneakers are slightly too big, but he doesn’t seem to care. With each article of clothing, he seems more human, yet no less ethereal.  

As you both set off, walking hand in hand toward the bus stop, the silence between you isn’t awkward—it’s a companionable quiet that speaks of trust, of connection. His thumb brushes yours absentmindedly, and though neither of you says a word, the unspoken is enough.  

When the bus arrives, its brakes hissing like a sleepy beast, Taehyung’s eyes widen with curiosity. He steps on cautiously, his hand tightening around yours as if the bus might lurch away without him. Once seated, he leans into the window, his breath fogging the glass as he watches the world rush past.  

The hum of the engine vibrates through the seats, and the tires drum a rhythm against the dirt road. His wide eyes follow the transformation outside—fields giving way to neat suburban houses, their gardens dotted with children’s toys and bicycles. As the bus turns toward the city, his wonder grows.  

Apartment buildings rise like mountains on the horizon, their windows glittering in the sunlight. Storefronts flash by, their signs alive with color and light. People crowd the sidewalks, their lives a blur of motion and chatter.  

He glances at you, his lips parting as if to say something, but he doesn’t. Instead, he smiles, a soft, awestruck curve of his lips that warms your chest. You squeeze his hand gently, grounding him in this moment, reminding him that he’s not alone in this strange, thrilling world.  

For Taehyung, the city is a symphony of sights and sounds, but nothing captivates him more than the simple fact that you’re here, guiding him through it all. And for you, watching him discover this part of your world feels like seeing it anew—through his eyes, it’s not ordinary; it’s magic.

You start your evening simply, leading him to a quaint little restaurant tucked away on a quiet street. The atmosphere is warm and intimate, a soft hum of conversation filling the air as the golden glow of hanging lights dances off the walls. Taehyung sits across from you, marveling at the human ritual of shared meals. He takes his first bite, his eyes widening at the burst of flavor, and you can’t help but smile at his boyish delight.  

But it’s not just the food he’s savoring—it’s you. The way your eyes glimmer with an unspoken invitation, calling to him like the moon calls the tides. He feels it then, that pull he’s been ignoring, the one that started the moment he first saw you by the lake.  

When the meal is over, you step out into the cool night air, walking side by side under the glow of streetlights. Laughter spills from nearby pubs, and Taehyung watches as groups of drunk revelers weave their way through the streets, their joy unrestrained and contagious. He chuckles when his gaze falls on couples pressed into shadowy corners, stealing kisses like they’re the only two people in the world.  

“You humans are so bold,” he murmurs, his voice tinged with amusement.  

You laugh softly, tugging his arm.

You pass by the flashing neon signs of different clubs, their thumping music spilling into the streets like siren songs. Taehyung tilts his head, his curiosity piqued, and asks if you should step into one. You shake your head, a knowing smile tugging at your lips. “Not yet. Trust me, you’ll love where we’re going.”  

When you finally arrive, the club you’ve chosen feels different from the others. It’s darker, sultrier, with low lighting that shimmers like moonlight on water. The music is a steady, hypnotic rhythm that seems to pulse in time with your heartbeat. You guide him to the bar, ordering drinks for the both of you. Taehyung sips hesitantly at first, but the sweet taste lights up his face, and you can’t help but laugh.  

“Good?” you ask, and he nods, licking his lips.  

The tension melts from your body as the alcohol warms your veins, and soon, the music pulls you both to the dance floor. The crowd is a sea of movement, bodies swaying and turning in time with the beat. You guide Taehyung, his hands finding your hips as you press yourself closer to him.  

You move together, your body a tide and his a willing wave. The space between you disappears, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world falls away—just the two of you, lost in the rhythm, the charged air between you humming with something electric.  

He feels it too, a spark that ignites into a slow-burning fire. His hands tighten on your waist, his breath hitching as his thoughts spiral into places they shouldn’t in the middle of a crowded club. You sense it, the shift in his energy, and it sends a thrill down your spine.  

Leaning close, your lips brush his ear, your voice a whisper that cuts through the music. “Let’s go back to my place.”  

His gaze meets yours, smoldering and intent, and without a word, he lets you lead him through the crowd, out into the cool night once more. The street feels quieter now, the distant sound of music fading as the two of you walk side by side, the tension between you a palpable thread pulling tighter with every step.  

And for Taehyung, the city lights and human rituals fade into the background, because tonight, the only thing he wants to discover is you.  

He lets you guide him through the labyrinth of streets, his footsteps light as if tethered to the ground only by your hand in his. When you reach your apartment, the city lights framing you in a warm glow, you turn with sudden intensity, capturing his lips in a kiss so fierce it steals the breath from his lungs. It’s a kiss that feels like a promise, like a storm breaking against the shoreline, and he is helpless to do anything but let himself be swept away.  

Inside, the air crackles with something electric as you push him onto the bed, a playful glint in your eyes as you reveal the purpose of the handcuffs he had once puzzled over. The hours blur into each other, a symphony of shared laughter, whispered secrets, and the exploration of one another until the world outside feels like a distant dream. When it’s well past midnight and the city sleeps, you slip your hand into his and insist on walking him home, your care wrapping around him like a warm tide.  

As you wait at the bus stop, the quiet hum of the night settling over you both, your fingers entwine with his in a silent gesture of connection. He glances at you, your profile softened by the faint glow of streetlights, and feels his heart swell with gratitude. You are extraordinary, he thinks, and he’s unsure what he’s done to deserve this moment, this person.  

The bus arrives, a gentle roar breaking the stillness, and carries you both back to the edge of the city. As the wheels roll closer to the lake, the stars above seem to multiply, glinting like scattered diamonds on velvet. When you disembark, the familiar scent of earth and water greets you, and he feels an ache deep inside, not wanting this night to end.  

The willow trees part for you like curtains drawn back on a stage, revealing the magical lake shimmering under the fireflies’ dance. Their golden lights swirl in the darkness, casting soft halos around the two of you. Your hands remain clasped, neither of you willing to break the fragile spell.  

He notices you biting your lip, nervous, as though searching for the right words. When you look up at him, your eyes glimmer with something unspoken, and your voice comes, hushed and thick with emotion. “Today’s been really amazing,” you confess, the sincerity in your tone wrapping around him like a warm embrace. “I love spending time with you. And everything you’ve done to help me…” Your voice catches, and you squeeze his hands, grounding yourself in him. “I’m so grateful.”  

Your words hang in the air like a soft melody, resonating deep within him. He holds your gaze, his chest tightening, knowing he feels the same but unsure how to say it without stumbling over the weight of what he feels. The night wraps around you both like a shared secret, and in this moment, the lake, the stars, and the world beyond seem to exist only for you two.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he says, his voice warm and steady, laced with genuine appreciation. “I’ve cherished every moment with you and all you’ve shared of the human world.” His gaze lingers on yours, the weight of his sincerity weaving a soft glow between you.  

“Will I see you again?” The words escape your lips like a breath of wind, fragile and light, as though you fear his answer might shatter you. But the gentle smile that touches his face erases your doubt.  

“Always,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing soothing circles into your hand, grounding you in his presence. He leans forward, capturing your lips in a kiss so tender it feels like a promise written in starlight. When he pulls away, his eyes linger on yours, sparkling like the lake behind him. “This will always be our secret little spot,” he whispers, his voice carrying the weight of eternity, before sealing his vow with another kiss.  

The cool night air brushes against your skin as he begins to disrobe, handing the clothes back to you with a playful smirk. You fold them carefully, tucking them into the bag, which you place against the base of a willow tree. His movements are unhurried, deliberate, as though savoring these final moments of shared stillness. Then, with a fluid leap, he disappears into the water, and the transformation begins.  

Your breath catches as his form shimmers under the moonlight, the emerald-green of his tail emerging from the surface like a dream come to life. The water glints where it cascades from his body, the lake embracing him like it’s welcoming its own. He turns to you, the playful glint in his eyes softened by something deeper, something unspoken.  

You crouch at the edge of the lake, leaning forward to press one last kiss to his lips, the coolness of the water mingling with his warmth. When he pulls away, a radiant smile graces his face, and you feel your chest flutter, as though your heart has been kissed by the night itself.  

As he swims away, his tail slicing gracefully through the water, you watch with awe, unable to look away from the way the moonlight dances across the ripples he leaves behind. A quiet smile settles on your lips, and as the willow branches sway gently overhead, you feel it—the deep and unshakable knowledge that this is not an ending but the start of something wondrous, something infinite. 

→ Permanent taglist: @nora12379 @jeonsbabygirlsworld @fancypeacepersona @ktownshizzle → Series taglist: @allie-in-the-moon @bangtannie7 @suker4angst → Author’s endnote: hiii! What did you think? I’m working on the last 3 mermaid stories as well, though I feel unsure about the plot, but, I’ll try to make them good for you. I hope you liked this one, and thank you so much for reading ✨

© @/kingofbodyrolls 2024 // Please don’t copy or repost! You are more than welcome to reblog it, leave a comment or ask me anything about the story 🥰

[oceandolores]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | series

Dbf! Joel Miller x female reader

"𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥, 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦."

summary: In the small town near Austin, Texas, you are trapped in a life of rigid expectations and silent suffering. As the preacher's daughter, you endure the mental and physical abuse of your father while your mother, bound by obedience, offers quiet love. Your longing for a father's warmth finds an unexpected solace in Joel Miller, your father's best friend and neighbor. In Joel's presence, you discover a forbidden sanctuary, where your yearning heart is met with a gentle strength you've never known.

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, ped0ph!l1a, cann1bal!sm, human traff1ck1ng, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

CHAPTER 1

masterlist of the series!

next | chapter 2

The Texas sun had a way of casting long, dramatic shadows across the sprawling landscape, painting the world in hues of gold and amber. In small town near Austin, the heat clung to everything, wrapping the town in a sweltering embrace that seemed to slow time itself. You, a preacher's daughter on the cusp of graduation, trapped in the rigid confines of a life dictated by faith and fear.

Your father, Reverend Gibson, was a towering figure in the community, his voice booming from the pulpit every Sunday, filling the church with sermons about sin and salvation. To the congregation, he was a man of God, a beacon of righteousness. But within the walls of your home, he was a tyrant. His heavy hand and harsh words left marks not just on your skin, but deep within your soul. Your mother, ever the obedient wife, offered what little comfort she could, but her love was a quiet, subdued thing, overshadowed by her fear of defying your father.

The Millers lived just a few houses down, their home a testament to both prosperity and tragedy. Joel Miller was your father’s best friend from high school, a bond forged in the fires of youth but strained by the paths they had chosen. While your father found his calling in the church, Joel built a successful construction business with his younger brother, Tommy.

Joel and Tommy not live far from each other, while your house is just one house away from Joel, Tommy is a few houses down from Joel's.

The Miller brothers were well-known and respected in the community, their work evident in the many buildings that dotted the town.

Joel’s life had been forever altered by a single, devastating moment. He had lost his wife and daughter in a car accident, an accident where he had been behind the wheel. The guilt of their deaths weighed heavily on him, a burden he carried in the lines of his face and the shadows in his eyes.

Since that tragic day, he had distanced himself from the church, finding solace instead in his work and in raising his adopted daughter, Ellie. Joel has adopted Ellie when she was only 10 years old with the help of Tommy.

At 16, Ellie was a spirited girl, one of your juniors at school. She attended church every Sunday with her uncle Tommy, her presence a reminder of the Millers’ lingering faith.

Tommy, married to Maria, had recently welcomed a baby boy into their family. The joy of new life was a stark contrast to the sorrow that had marked Joel’s existence. The Millers were a close-knit family, their bonds of loyalty and love a stark contrast to the fractured and tense environment of your own home.

You had known the Millers your entire life, their presence a constant thread in the fabric of your existence. Yet, as you stood on the brink of adulthood, your interactions with them took on a new significance. Your father’s sermons about the dangers of straying from the path of righteousness echoed in your mind, but so did your longing for something more, something real and tangible.

It was just another Sunday, and you were helping your dad with the after-service fellowship. The congregation mingled in the church hall, sharing coffee and pastries, their voices a low hum of conversation and laughter. You moved through the crowd with a tray of refreshments, offering smiles and polite nods, your mind elsewhere.

The Sunday service had been like any other, filled with hymns, prayers, and your father’s booming voice delivering his sermon. Today, he had spoken about temptation and the perils of straying from God’s path, his words heavy with the weight of his own fervent belief. As always, you felt the eyes of the congregation on you, the preacher’s daughter, the living example of his teachings.

You couldn’t help but glance towards the back of the room, where Tommy and Ellie stood, their presence a rare but welcome sight. Joel, as expected, was absent, his appearances in church growing increasingly sporadic since the accident.

Your thoughts kept drifting to Joel Miller. It had been years since the tragedy that had claimed his wife and daughter, leaving an indelible mark on him, transforming a once regular churchgoer into a haunted, reclusive figure.

You didn't really know or remember Joel's wife and daughter. Sarah Miller had been much older than you, and she passed away when you were only five. The memories you had of them were hazy at best, a blur of faces and voices that you couldn’t quite place.

Ellie caught your eye and waved, her smile bright and genuine. You waved back, feeling a pang of longing for the carefree spirit she embodied. She was one of the few people in your life who treated you like a normal person, not just the preacher’s daughter.

After the service, as the crowd began to thin, you found yourself gravitating towards Tommy and Ellie. Tommy, ever the warm and approachable figure, greeted you with a smile. “Hey, kiddo. How’ve you been?”

You returned his smile, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly. “I’m good, Tommy. How’s Maria and the baby?”

Tommy’s face lit up with pride. “They’re great. Little Luke’s growing like a weed. Maria’s over the moon, of course.”

Ellie nudged you playfully. “You should come over and meet him sometime. He’s the cutest.”

You laughed softly. “I’d love that.”

Tommy’s expression grew more serious as he glanced around the room. “How’s your dad doing with all the church activities? Keeping busy?”

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, he’s always got something going on. Keeps him out of trouble, I guess.”

Tommy chuckled. “Good to hear. Your family always looks so put together. It’s impressive, really.”

You shrugged, trying to brush off the compliment. “We just try to do our best.”

As you continued chatting, the weight on your shoulders seemed to lighten, if only for a moment. Ellie shared stories about school, her infectious laughter bringing a smile to your face.

“So, any plans after graduation?” Ellie asked, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.

You hesitated, the uncertainty of your future looming large. “I’m not sure yet. I’ve been thinking about college, but it’s complicated.”

Tommy’s expression grew serious again. “You should follow your dreams, kid. Don’t let anything hold you back.”

You nodded, grateful for their support. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks, Tommy.”

As you chatted with Tommy and Ellie, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Glancing around, you caught your father’s stern gaze from across the room. His eyes were a silent warning, a reminder of your place and the expectations that came with it.

Excusing yourself, you slipped out of the church hall, needing a moment of solitude. Your dad won't notice you are gone a little, your job has been taken by your mom.

The Texas heat hit you as soon as you stepped outside, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the gravel parking lot. You decided to walk, the streets feeling empty because everyone was still in church. As you walked aimlessly, your mind whirled with conflicting thoughts and emotions.

You found yourself drawn towards the lake behind the church and the town, a place far enough to avoid everyone. The lake and the surrounding forest were comforting, a sanctuary from the oppressive atmosphere of your home.

Looking around to ensure you were alone, you carefully pulled out your cigarettes and lit one, taking a long drag. Your parents never knew you were quite a smoker, especially your father. If he ever found out, the repercussions would be severe, his wrath swift and unrelenting. The thought of his anger made you shudder.

You decided to sit by the old fallen tree near the lake. It was very quiet, the only sounds were the rustling of leaves and the gentle lapping of water against the shore. You loved to come here every chance you got, a hidden escape from the prying eyes and harsh judgments of your daily life. As you exhaled a cloud of smoke, you heard a rustling sound in the underbrush.

Startled, you quickly put out your cigarette and looked up. Emerging from the trees was Joel, a hunting rifle slung over his shoulder. Your heart pounded in your chest as you met his gaze. "Joel?" you stammered, hoping he hadn’t noticed the cigarette.

He looked at you, then at the still-smoking cigarette butt near your feet. His expression was unreadable, but you felt a wave of fear. What if he told your father?

Joel approached, his steps slow and deliberate. "Didn’t expect to see you out here," he said, his voice as gruff as ever.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. "I… I just needed some air."

Joel’s eyes flicked to the cigarette again. "That why you’re hiding out here? To smoke?"

You bit your lip, the truth hanging heavily between you. "Please don’t tell my dad," you whispered, the desperation clear in your voice.

Joel sighed, his expression softening slightly. "Your secret’s safe with me," he said finally, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Relief flooded through you, and you nodded gratefully. "Thank you,"

As you stood up, brushing off the dirt and bits of wood that had stained your dress, you noticed Joel's gaze lingering on the rifle in his hand and the heavy boots caked with mud.

"You didn’t come to church today," you said, your curiosity overcoming your apprehension. You had noticed his absence with the frequency that had become almost routine over the years.

He glanced at you, the stern lines of his face softening slightly. “Yeah, I’ve been... busy,” he replied, his tone clipped and noncommittal.

You took in the sight of him, his rugged appearance a stark contrast to the tidy, polished look of the other churchgoers. The rifle and the muddy boots seemed to tell a story of their own, a story that was far removed from the neat rows of pews and the polished wooden floors of the church.

“You know, Father always says that you used to come every Sunday,” you said, trying to sound casual. “He misses you at church. Everyone does.”

Joel’s expression hardened again, the hint of vulnerability disappearing behind his usual reserve. “Yeah, well, things change,” he said tersely, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “People change.”

You wanted to press further, to understand what had driven him away, but you knew better than to push too hard. Joel was a man of few words, his emotional landscape a guarded territory. You had seen it in the way he interacted with Ellie, the way he kept his distance, the way he seemed to be perpetually battling some invisible storm.

"Are you okay?" you asked quietly, your concern slipping through despite your efforts to remain detached.

Joel’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of something raw and unspoken. He shook his head, as if to clear the thoughts from his mind. "Just trying to get by, same as anyone," he said gruffly. “Out here, it’s a little easier to do that.”

You nodded, accepting his answer even if it left many questions unanswered. The silence between you stretched, filled only with the distant chirping of birds and the gentle rustling of leaves.

Joel shifted, breaking the silence. “What are you doing out here anyway? It’s quite a trek from town. This place isn’t exactly safe, you know.” His tone was a mixture of concern and curiosity, revealing a sliver of his protective nature.

You sighed, glancing around the lake and forest. “I needed a break. Just... needed to be away from everything for a bit. It’s peaceful here." You looked at Joel, your eyes subtly asking if it was okay to continue smoking.

Joel noticed your look but chose not to comment immediately. Instead, he took a few steps closer, his boots crunching softly on the gravel. You took that as an invitation and sat down under a large tree near the lake, patting the grass beside you.

“Feel free to join me if you want,” you offered, your voice light despite the heaviness of the situation.

Joel hesitated for a moment before sitting down next to you. His presence was a grounding force, even if he wasn’t the most expressive. He glanced at the cigarette pack you had placed on the grass between you.

“Want one?” you offered, extending the pack towards him.

Joel shook his head with a faint, rueful smile. “Nah, I’m good. I’m not sure it’s right to be smoking in front of you.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I thought you of all people wouldn’t judge me for it.”

Joel chuckled, a rare, genuine sound. “Yeah, well, I guess I’m a bit of a hypocrite when it comes to that. I’ve had my share of bad habits.”

You nodded, accepting his refusal. “How are you, Joel? I don’t see you much,” you said, your curiosity evident. It was true; Joel had been increasingly distant from the people in your town, retreating into a shell of his own making.

He met your gaze briefly, a flicker of something you couldn’t quite place crossing his features. “Just... getting by. Working hard, dealing with stuff. Not much else to it.”

There was a weariness in his voice that spoke of battles fought silently and wounds healed only with time. It was clear that the years had not been kind to Joel, even if he tried to mask it behind a facade of rugged determination.

You sensed that pushing further wouldn’t get you anywhere. Joel was not one to open up easily, and you could see that the topic of his feelings was closed off. You decided to shift the conversation, sensing that it was best to focus on something lighter.

"How’s school?” he asked, his tone shifting to something slightly more personal but still restrained. “Almost done, right?”

You nodded, a smile touching your lips despite the lingering tension. “Yeah, I’m just a few months away from graduating. It’s been a whirlwind, but I’m looking forward to it.”

“That’s good to hear,” Joel replied, giving a slight nod. “High school’s a big deal. A lot changes after that.”

You shifted slightly, tucking your legs beneath you as you sat on the grass. “It is. It feels like the end of one chapter and the start of another.” You took a deep drag from your cigarette, the smoke curling around you in the still air. Exhaling slowly, you continued, “I just want to get out of here.”

Joel’s gaze, always direct, fixed on you. He didn’t speak immediately, allowing the weight of your words to settle between you. He shifted his weight, leaning slightly on the rifle, his hands still coated in the grime of the day’s work. “Yeah?” he finally said, his tone soft but edged with curiosity. “Where do you want to go?”

You looked out over the lake, its calm surface reflecting the last rays of the sun. “Anywhere but here,” you said with a sigh. “I want to leave this town, start fresh somewhere new. I’ve been dreaming about it for a long time.”

Joel watched you silently for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Sometimes getting out can seem like the only way to find something better,” he said slowly. “But it ain’t always as simple as it sounds.”

You took another drag from your cigarette, the ember glowing brightly as you exhaled. “I know it’s not that simple,” you said quietly. “But it feels like I’m suffocating here. I just need... something different. Something real.”

Joel’s eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze not unkind but keenly observant. There was a protective instinct in him that had always been there, even when you were much younger. He sensed there was more to your words than just a desire to leave town. The carefully constructed façade of normalcy that your family projected wasn’t lost on him, though he had never delved into the specifics of your home life.

“You know,” Joel began, his voice taking on a slightly softer tone, “sometimes people want to leave for reasons that go beyond what they’re willing to say. It’s one thing to want a new place, but it’s another to be running from something.”

You stiffened slightly, the cigarette now nothing more than a stub between your fingers. You were careful not to let your emotions betray you. “It’s not just about running away,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “It’s about finding a place where I can breathe.”

Joel nodded, his gaze steady. “And you think you’ll find that out there?”

“I hope so,” you said. “I just need to get out and find out for myself. It’s been hard to see beyond this place.”

Joel shifted his weight, leaning on his rifle. His rugged face, often set in lines of stoicism, now bore a hint of concern. “You know, I’ve seen a lot of folks runnin’ away from what they don’t want to face. Sometimes they find what they’re lookin’ for, sometimes they don’t. But it’s dangerous out there for someone who’s not ready.”

You looked at him, sensing the genuine concern behind his words. “I’m ready,” you said softly. “I’ve been ready for a long time.”

Joel studied you for a moment longer, his fatherly instincts kicking in. He could see the innocence in your eyes, the quiet strength that belied your troubled soul. He had been a father before, and he knew what it was like to want to protect someone from the harsh realities of the world.

But then, with a shift in his demeanor, Joel decided it wasn’t his business to involve himself further. He cared for you, that much was clear, but he also knew his boundaries. His expression hardened slightly, a testament to his tendency to keep people at a distance. 

“Look,” he said gruffly, his Southern accent thickening his words, “it’s not my place to get too involved in this. You’re gonna have to handle things your way.” His tone was direct, carrying the weight of a man who had learned to let his actions speak louder than his words.

Despite the coldness in his voice, there was a flicker of tenderness in his eyes, a brief glimpse of the protective instincts that lingered beneath his guarded exterior. Joel operated in a morally gray area, making decisions that were often difficult and controversial, and he understood the complexities of navigating a world where right and wrong were not always clear.

He wanted to help, but his experience had taught him that sometimes the best way to show care was to step back and allow others to find their own way.

“You know,” Joel said, shifting the topic slightly, “Ellie talks about you sometimes. Says you’re smart, and she admires you for stickin’ it out. She’s got a good head on her shoulders, but she looks up to you. So, if there’s ever a time you need someone to talk to, or if you just need a friend, don’t hesitate to reach out. I may not be the best at this whole ‘talkin’’ thing, but I’m here if you need me.”

You appreciated his attempt to offer support, even if it came in a roundabout way. “Thanks, Joel. It’s nice to know that someone cares,” you said, smiling as you put out the cigarette.

Joel watched you with a mixture of concern and curiosity, as if weighing whether to press further. You could see that he was struggling with how much to say, his usual reserve at odds with the genuine warmth he was trying to convey.

“Well,” you said, glancing at the fading light, “I should head back to the church before Dad notices I’m gone.”

Joel shifted his stance, a hint of hesitation in his eyes. “You sure you don’t want a ride back? It’s a long walk, and it’s gettin’ dark.”

You shook your head, feeling a pang of guilt for declining his offer. “I appreciate it, Joel, but I don’t want to trouble you. I can manage the walk.”

Joel’s brow furrowed, and he gave a firm nod. “It ain’t no trouble. It’s just a ride. Besides, I’d rather make sure you get back safely.”

His insistence made you feel slightly uncomfortable, but you also recognized his sincerity. Raised to be polite and considerate, you found it difficult to refuse when someone was being genuinely helpful.

“Alright,” you said reluctantly, “if you insist. Thank you.”

Joel nodded, his face softening a bit as he walked over to his truck. The vehicle was old but reliable, with a rugged appearance that matched Joel’s own. He opened the passenger side door for you, gesturing for you to get in.

As you climbed into the truck, Joel got into the driver’s seat and started the engine. The interior was a mix of practical and worn, with a faint smell of leather and earth. Joel drove with a steady, practiced hand, the truck rumbling over the uneven terrain as he navigated the path back to town.

The silence in the truck was comfortable, with only the sound of the engine and the occasional rustle of the trees breaking it. You stared out the window, the fading sunlight casting a warm glow over the landscape. You could feel the weight of the day’s conversations settling in, and the quiet offered a moment of reflection.

After a few minutes, the truck rolled into town, the familiar sights coming into view. Joel slowed as he approached the church, where you could see the remaining congregants beginning to disperse.

Joel pulled up to the curb and stopped the truck. "We're here."

"Thank you once again, Joel. It’s good catching up with you," you said, giving him a grateful smile. Just as you were about to step out of the truck, you spotted your father from a distance. A sinking feeling washed over you as you realized he had seen you.

“Oh no,” you muttered, catching Joel’s eye. He turned to see your father walking towards the truck, a determined look on his face.

Joel, ever the gentleman, exited the truck as well. You followed suit, feeling a knot tighten in your stomach. Your father, who had been conversing with some church members, excused himself and made his way towards you and Joel.

“Evening, Reverend,” Joel greeted, extending a hand.

“Evening, Joel,” your father said with his usual charming demeanor, shaking Joel’s hand firmly. “It’s been a while. I hope you’ve been well.”

Joel’s expression was polite but reserved. “Can’t complain. Been keeping busy.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” your father replied smoothly. “You know, we’ve missed you at church. It would be good to see you back.”

Joel gave a noncommittal nod, his discomfort barely masked. “Maybe sometime.”

As your father turned his attention to you, his smile faltered slightly. “And where have you been, young lady? You were supposed to help with the service.”

You flinched at the stern tone, feeling his grip tighten around your arm as he spoke. “I was just taking a walk, Dad. Joel gave me a ride back.”

Your father’s grip was rough and unyielding, his fingers digging into your arm with a strength that was both painful and controlling. Joel noticed, his gaze briefly flicking to your father’s hand before returning to his face.

“Is that right?” your father said, his voice carrying a hint of disapproval. “Well, I hope you weren’t gone too long. We have responsibilities.”

"Yes, I'm sorry, father." You said smile a little to hide the pain he's causing you.

Joel cleared his throat, attempting to steer the conversation away from the tension. “I’m just making sure she gets back safe."

“Of course,” your father said, releasing your arm but maintaining a veneer of politeness. “We have a dinner invitation from Tommy and Maria next Saturday. I trust you’ll be joining us?”

Joel looked momentarily surprised. “Well, I'm supposed I am,"

Your father’s smile widened, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. “Yes, they extended the invitation to our family. It will be good to catch up.”

Joel nodded, his expression neutral. “I’ll have to check with Ellie, but I’m sure we’ll make it.”

“Excellent,” your father said, still maintaining his charming facade. “It’ll be good for everyone to reconnect.”

As the conversation continued, Joel’s discomfort grew. He noticed the strain in your father’s demeanor and the way he seemed to be masking a more sinister undertone behind his polite words. Joel had been out of the social loop for a while, but he was perceptive enough to sense when something was off, even if he chose not to probe further.

“Well,” Joel said, his tone shifting to one of finality, “I better be on my way. Got some things to take care of. It was good seeing you again, Reverend. And you too,” he added, offering you a brief, reassuring smile.

You gave him a grateful nod, feeling a mixture of relief and apprehension. “Thank you, Joel."

Joel, giving one last nod before turning to leave. As he walked away, you could feel the weight of the evening’s encounters settling heavily on your shoulders. The brief respite you’d found in Joel’s company had been overshadowed by the return of your father’s control and the unsettling realization that your escape from this small town and its complexities might be more challenging than you had hoped.

After the Sunday service, you returned home with a heavy heart. The warmth of the day had turned cold, and the familiar feeling of dread settled over you as you approached the house. Inside, the tension was palpable, and the moment you walked through the door, you knew there would be consequences for your absence during the service.

Your father’s voice was stern and unforgiving as he called you into the living room. “You’ve abandoned your duties. Do you have any idea what that means?”

You tried to explain, but his anger cut you off. “I was just trying to get some fresh air, Dad. I didn’t mean—”

Before you could finish, he was on you, grabbing your arm with a grip that left no room for argument. He dragged you to the center of the room, his face a mask of fury. “You’ve abandoned your duty. It’s about respect and responsibility. You know how important this is.”

“No, please, Dad, don’t. I’m so sorry. I will not do it again,” you pleaded, your voice trembling.

The fear in your voice only seemed to fuel his anger. He disappeared into the hallway, returning with his belt in hand. The leather looked menacing, and your heart raced as you saw it.

“Please, Dad, I’m sorry,” you continued to beg. “I didn’t mean to disobey. I’ll make it right. Just please—”

Your father’s face was a mask of cold determination. “Take off your dress and face the wall,” he ordered, his voice steely. “You needs to be taught a lesson.”

You could barely keep your composure as you undressed, your body shaking with fear and dread. The scars on your back from a previous punishment throbbed with anticipation. When you were finally positioned with your back to him, every nerve in your body was on edge.

The first crack of the belt was sharp and painfully immediate. The sound echoed through the room, followed by a searing pain that made you flinch. You cried out, tears streaming down your face. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” you sobbed, your voice breaking with each cry of pain.

You could feel the belt cutting into your already tender skin, the sensation of bleeding mixing with the agony of the blows. Each strike felt like a betrayal of your trust, a reminder of the harsh world you were trapped in.

Your mother stood in the doorway of the kitchen, her face pale and tear-streaked. She wanted to intervene, but fear held her back. She could only watch helplessly as you were punished, her own sobs mingling with your cries of pain.

In a desperate attempt to mask the sounds of the abuse from the neighbors, she turned the gospel music up loud, hoping the noise would cover your screams and your father’s harsh words.

The music blared in the background, a twisted contrast to the suffering in the room. It felt like a cruel mockery, the joyous hymns clashing with the reality of your punishment. Your mother’s tears fell silently as she stood by, unable to offer more than the muted comfort of her presence.

As the beating continued, your strength waned. The pain was overwhelming, a relentless reminder of the control your father exerted over every aspect of your life. You could only endure, hoping for it to end soon, each moment stretching out painfully as you clung to the hope that this would be the last of such torment.

When he finally stopped, you were left huddled on the floor, your body aching and your spirit broken. Your father’s anger subsided, leaving him with a cold, resolute expression. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson,” he said gruffly, his voice devoid of empathy. “Disobedience won’t be tolerated.”

Your mother rushed to your side as soon as your father left the room, her hands trembling, “I’m so sorry,” she whispered through her tears, her voice filled with sorrow and helplessness.

You looked at her through blurred vision, your own tears mingling with hers. “I—It's okay, mama." you said weakly, your voice strained and shaky. “It’s my fault."

She helped you put your dress back on, her fingers brushing gently over the raw marks on your skin, causing you to wince. Each movement was a reminder of the pain you were enduring.

As you slowly gathered your strength, your mother helped you to a nearby chair, her hands still shaking. She sat beside you, her presence a small but comforting anchor in the storm of your emotions. The music from the kitchen blared on, a cruel backdrop to the quiet moments of shared sorrow between mother and daughter.

In the midst of the pain and turmoil, there was a flicker of hope that someday, somehow, you might find a way out of the darkness. For now, though, you could only cling to the small comforts and the hope that things might one day be different.

[sanjoongie]

HEAVY BREATHING

SWEET SORROW OF EVIL // ❝ THE WORLD IS CURSED FOR ME AND YOU ❞

the world burned as i stood at the edge of it all, for i am the sole reason that drives your existence further. so all i ask is that you kill me gently, sweet evil.

PAIRING : POLY!ATEEZ x EVIL QUEEN!F!READER

GENRE : MATURE, FANTASY AU, ROYALTY AU, SMUT, ANGST, DARK, EVENTUAL POLY RELATIONSHIP

GENERAL WARNINGS : LANGUAGE, DEATH / MURDER, BLOOD / BODY GORE, SMUT (READ EACH CHAPTER WARNINGS BEFORE CONTINUING)

a collab story between TOPAZ (@sanjoongie) and SMALLS.

THIS STORY WILL BE MATURE RATED ! MINORS AND PEOPLE WHO DO NOT READ SMUT DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS SERIES !

★ . CHAPTERS

PROLOGUE. DARK TÁLSYN

[nhaaauyen]

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨ The Ghost of You ୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

"This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong // To love that well which thou must leave ere long." -William Shakespeare (Sonnet 73)

PART V: ‘CAUSE I CAN’T TAKE THIS PAIN FOREVER

zombie apocalypse sevika x reader au!: sevika was the super soldier; a killing machine driven solely by survival. you were nomadic, constantly searching for something in whatever was left of the world—till you met her.

series masterpost: part I // part II // part III // part IV

wc: 8.3k cw: smut (MINORS DNI!!!) author's note: thank you to everyone who read/comments + i see your tags on the reposts you guys make me gay and sappy with all your support tysm 💗 (also im so sorry if the smut is so mid I’m not a smut writer and it’s my second time writing smut ever smhhh)

Fifteen died. Including Grayson. 

Daylight is spent in a daze of cleaning up, tending to the wounded, and trying to process the magnitude of what's happened. People are trying to piece together what little they can salvage, but the damage is more than just physical.

As night falls, the community gathers for a final farewell. The loss is too great, too much to be exposed under the harsh light of day. The night offers a semblance of protection, a cloak under which everyone can mourn and where grief can be private.

Candles flicker in the hands of those gathered and the atmosphere is thick with sorrow. Families huddle together, some on their knees beside makeshift crosses, others standing in silent clusters. The candles illuminate their tears, turning them into tiny rivers of gold that glisten in the darkness.

You stand by Grayson’s cross, surrounded by those who knew and loved her. Vander, his broad shoulders tense and Ekko clutches his candle so tightly that the wax has begun to drip onto his fingers. Powder leans into Vi, who wraps a protective arm around her sister. Caitlyn stands close, her face a mask of composed grief, but her eyes are red-rimmed and distant. Ren holds onto your hand tightly, her small fingers interlaced with yours.

Your gaze keeps drifting to the shadows, searching for one face in particular.  

Then, as if conjured by your thoughts, you spot her. She’s standing under a tree, half-hidden in the shadows. The candlelight doesn’t reach her, leaving her face partially obscured, but you can tell it’s her.  She's motionless, almost statuesque, her expression unreadable.

There’s something in the way she’s watching the scene before her that sends a shiver down your spine. It’s almost as if she’s already a ghost herself, a spirit haunting the edge of the gathering. There’s an emptiness to her, as if the life has been drained out of her and what remains is only a shell, a figure standing over a world she no longer belongs to.

A heaviness resides in your chest, a deep, aching sadness that mirrors the grief of those around you. Grayson’s loss is a wound that cuts deep. She was the heart of this community, the one who held everyone together. And now she’s gone, leaving behind a legacy that feels too big, too important to carry on without her.

The vigil continues, but you feel a shift in the air, a quiet, unspoken understanding that it’s time to go, that there’s nothing more to be done here tonight. Slowly, people begin to leave, one by one, their footsteps soft on the grass. You hesitate, your gaze lingering on Sevika one last time. She hasn’t moved, hasn’t acknowledged your presence or anyone else’s.  

As your family and Ren head to a neighbor’s house, seeking comfort in numbers, you seek solace in solitude instead. 

The silence is almost deafening in your room. You close the door behind you, leaning against it for a moment as you let out a shaky breath. 

There’s a soft knock at the door, and for a moment, you think you might be imagining it. But then it comes again, and you push yourself away from the door, your heart pounding in your chest as you reach for the handle.

When you open the door, Sevika is standing there, but she’s not the woman you remember. There’s a hollow look in her eyes, a deep exhaustion etched into every line of her face. She’s hunched over slightly as if the weight of everything has finally broken through her defenses.

For a moment, you just stare at each other, neither of you knowing what to say. 

"What's going on?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Without a word, she steps into the room, her movements slow and almost hesitant.

"Sevika..." you start, but the words die in your throat as she looks at you. Her eyes, usually so guarded, are now pools of raw emotion.

"I could have lost you yesterday," she says, her voice cracking. "I almost did."

You step back and fall onto the edge of your bed, overwhelmed by the intensity of her gaze, the weight of her words.  

Sevika falls to her knees before you, burying her face in your lap. Her body shakes, hands clutching desperately at your clothes. The sight of her kneeling before you sends a shockwave through your system. This is Sevika, the woman who’s always stood tall, who’s never shown weakness. 

“Please…” The word escapes her lips in a raw, broken whisper, her voice laced with a desperation you’ve never heard from her before. “Please… I can’t take this pain forever.”

Your hands hover uncertainly over her. She’s seeking you, but you find yourself instinctively pushing back, your fingers gripping her shoulders to keep some distance between you.  The urge to comfort her wars with the part of you that’s terrified—terrified that if you let her in again, she’ll leave, and you’ll be left with nothing but this overwhelming pain.  

Why now? your eyes ask, the ache in your chest tightening. Why now, when I don’t even know if I can trust you not to leave again?

Sevika looks up, her eyes red-rimmed and filled with vulnerability. She reaches for you, but you flinch away, your body betraying your inner turmoil. I won’t, her eyes seem to respond. her hands clinging to you as if you’re the only thing keeping her from falling apart completely.

The push and pull become physical - Sevika's hands grasping at your clothes, trying to draw you in, while you resist, your grip on her arms keeping her at bay. You see the realization dawn in Sevika's eyes as she understands your hesitation. She doesn't speak, doesn't try to persuade you with words. Instead, she simply holds your gaze, her hands loosening their grip but not letting go entirely.

The tension between you is palpable, a living thing that fills the space between your bodies. You can feel it gnawing at you - the fear that she’ll pull away, that this moment will shatter like glass. 

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Sevika's resistance fades. She doesn't try to pull you closer anymore, but she doesn't move away either. She simply kneels there, her head bowed, waiting.

It's this surrender that finally breaks through your defenses. Your hands, which were pushing her away, now tremble as they cup her face. You tilt her chin up, meeting her gaze fully for the first time.

What you see there takes your breath away - it’s a steadfast devotion that silences your doubts. At that moment, you understand that she's not going anywhere.

Your hands finally move, your fingers threading through her hair and letting it fall from its ponytail. The moment you touch her, she lets out a shuddering breath, her body sagging against you as if the weight she’s been carrying has finally become too much.

Sevika sees the hesitation in your gaze, the lingering fear, and something shifts inside her. She surges up, pulling you into a desperate kiss—a plea for you to trust her.  The kiss is messy, frantic, filled with the need to feel, to connect, to hold onto something real amidst all this.

You respond immediately, your hands drawing her near—even though parts of you want to stop and shield yourself from the possibility of losing her again, you can’t bring yourself to let go.

Her lips are pressing against yours with a need that makes your heart ache, and you both finally give in to the emotions you’ve been holding back for so long. It’s not like the kiss you’ve shared before—this is different. It’s a commitment to each other that you’ve both been too scared to acknowledge until now.

You both fall back onto the bed, your bodies tangling together as you lose yourselves in each other. 

Your hands are never leaving her, your lips never straying too far from hers. Her bionic hand presses into your back gently, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you and you can feel the steady beat of her heart against your chest.

She suddenly pulls you onto her lap. One hand slides under your shirt, causing a shiver to run down your spine, while the other lingers on the small of your back. With a swift movement, she removes your shirt, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable under the moonlight cascading through the window.

A blush creeps up your cheeks at the sudden exposure. 

"You're beautiful." The moonlight dances in her eyes and her voice is filled with sincerity and adoration. 

Your breath hitches as she leans in and presses a kiss onto your chest, her lips travel lower and lower until she forces a nipple out of your bra.  Your gasp quickly turns into a moan as her lips wrap around it and her tongue is swirling, her teeth teasing and biting at the sensitive bud.  

Your hands find their way into her hair and shoulders, grasping at something to stabilize a desire that feels like it could push you over the edge.  As her lips dance across your neck, her tongue tracing the curve of your jaw, you feel your hips surge forward, seeking the friction that will bring you relief. Your hands, still fisted in her clothes, tug her closer, the fabric straining against the pressure. Sevika's fingers, still tangled in your hair, pull your head back further, exposing your throat to her hungry mouth. Her breath is hot against your skin, sending shivers coursing through your veins.  You grind into her fingers, a low, desperate moan builds in your throat, and you hear yourself repeating her name like a mantra.

"Sevika, Sevika, Sevika please."

Your legs tremble as you press into her, the thin fabric of your panties rubbing against her fingers, which are still wrapped around you. The pressure builds, a crescendo of need threatening to consume you whole. 

She teases you, her fingers occasionally dipping inside you before pulling back out to rub against your sensitive nub. Each time you’re on the brink of release, she stops and kisses you deeply, driving you crazy with need.

But finally, when you can’t take it any longer, she plunges two fingers inside you. Your fingers dig deep into her shoulder as she sets a steady pace with her fingers, hitting just the right spot inside you that has you writhing in ecstasy.

You’re panting at her touch, your hips bucking into her hand as she moves her fingers in and out of you, her thumb rubbing circles over your clit. Each touch sends jolts of pleasure through your body, making you crave more and more.  She whispers sweet words in your ear along with wicked promises that make you wetter than you could imagine.

You grasp the edge of Sevika's shawl, the delicate fabric slipping through your fingers as you slowly pull it away, exposing her bionic arm to you. The shimmering metal catches the dim light of the room, contrasting beautifully with your warm hands. You can’t help but admire the way it seems to glow, each curve and joint blending seamlessly into her skin. 

Sevika’s breath hitches at the sight of her exposed arm, and a flicker of vulnerability passes over her face. The vulnerability in her eyes makes you want to show her how incredible she is, and how every part of her makes you feel alive.  

You lean closer, your lips brushing softly against her bionic arm, feeling the coolness against your mouth as you press gentle kisses along the sleek surface. It’s smooth, almost soothing, and you feel her relax into your touch. Your breath quickens, merging anticipation and a hunger to worship every part of her. 

She changes your positions, laying you down gently on your bed till your head sinks into a plush pillow.  You can feel the heat radiating off of her body as she begins to kiss down your body. Her lips leave a trail of fire as they make their way down your stomach until they reach the waistband of your panties. She easily removes them and throws them aside.  She starts by lightly kissing and licking your inner thighs, slowly making her way towards your center. You can already feel the heat pooling between your legs as she gets closer and closer to where you want her most. Her gaze locks onto yours as her head hovers over your soaked folds.

“Just focus on me,” her voice comes out hoarse and commanding.

Sevika buries her face between your legs and you gasp at the sudden sensation, gripping the sheets tightly. She flicks and sucks on your clit while slipping a finger inside of you, matching the rhythm of her tongue. There’s a sense of urgency in the way she looks at you – a primal need that mirrors yours perfectly. 

Her fingers dig into your thighs, holding you down firmly.  You feel yourself getting close, but before you can reach your peak, she stops abruptly.

You whimper in frustration, but it’s quickly replaced with adoration as she climbs up to kiss you, tasting yourself on her lips.  

“You got such a pretty body,” She bites teasingly at your ear. “Prettier when it’s a mess for me.” 

A course of desire jolts through you at hearing her low and raspy voice whisper those words. Your fingers trace the curve of her shoulder, moving down her arm until you reach her hand. You intertwine your fingers with hers, feeling the coolness of her bionic hand.  Sevika blows a hot breath over your glistening mound and you instinctively close your legs around her head. 

The room immediately fills with the sound of heavy breathing and the soft, wet noises of skin against skin. Her finger curls inside you, causing your back to arch off the bed in pleasure. 

With each thrust and lap of her tongue, she pushes you closer to the edge. You can feel the tension coiling within you—she intensifies her rhythm, sucking and teasing in perfect harmony with your body's responses. The sensations build higher and higher until they finally explode within you.

You release with a loud cry, shuddering in ecstasy as the waves of pleasure wash over you, leaving you breathless and utterly consumed in bliss.

When you finally break apart, it’s only to catch your breath. Your bodies are still tangled together, a sticky, wet mess, but neither of you cares. Sevika holds you tightly, her face buried in the crook of your neck.

The room is bathed in soft, silvery moonlight filtering in through the window. The sounds of your soft breathing fill the space, mingling with the faint rustle of the sheets. Everything feels tender, and fragile, like you’re both holding on to something delicate and precious, something that could shatter with the slightest misstep.

Your fingers trace the scar on Sevika’s cheek, the roughened skin contrasting the softness of her lips. She looks at you, her eyes searching yours as if she’s trying to read the thoughts that you’re too scared to say aloud.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you murmur, your voice trembling with emotion.

“You won’t,” she whispers back, her lips brushing against yours in the softest of kisses. 

“Promise me..” Your voice falters, struggling to grasp the idea of not being able to feel her, see her, or touch her like this again.  “I don’t know how to exist without you.”

“I’d spend the rest of my days searching,” Sevika replies quietly, her gaze unwavering.  “Even just for the chance of seeing you again.” 

She cups your face with one hand, her thumb brushing gently over your cheek.  “I’ll always find my way back to you.”

You rest your head on her chest, listening to the steady rhythm of her heart, the sound soothing in a way you hadn’t realized you needed. Your fingers trace gentle patterns on her skin and a quiet peace settles over you, a sense of calm that you haven’t felt in what seems like forever.

As you lie there, holding each other in the darkness, the world outside seems to fade into insignificance. You close your eyes, letting yourself finally rest, knowing that she’s here with you, that you’re both in this together. It’s a fragile peace, but it’s yours, and in this moment, it’s more than enough.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩

One Year Later…

The kitchen glows in the warm light, sunlight streaming through the window and illuminating the marble countertops. The sweet aroma of cinnamon and vanilla fills the air as you stir a pot of rice pudding on the stove.

Ren bursts into the kitchen, twirling in her new outfit - a pretty blue dress with matching ribbons in her hair. "Look!" she exclaims, eyes shining with excitement.

You smile warmly. "You look beautiful, honey. Are you ready for dinner at Vander's?"

Ren nods enthusiastically. "Can I go over early? Please?"

"Of course," you reply, giving her a quick hug. "I'll see you there in a bit."

You watch her go, a fond smile lingering on your lips. Ren has become such a central part of your life, switching between living with you and Sevika, and some nights, staying over at Vander’s with the rest of your family. Dinners at Vander’s have also become a tradition, starting as a semblance of normality for the kids until you realize that sometimes everyone just needed a family meal too.

You turn back to your work, carefully measuring out the sugar to add to the pudding. You’re so focused on getting everything just right that you don’t notice when Sevika slips into the kitchen. She moves quietly, her steps almost soundless as she approaches the stove. It’s only when you glance up and see her broad back that you realize she’s there, her figure blocking the light from the window.

"Hey, you're home," you start to say, but then you spot the spoon in her mouth. "Sev!" you exclaim. "I'm not done with that!"

Sevika turns, the spoon still between her lips. "Tastes good," she mumbles around it, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“It’s supposed to taste good when it’s finished,” you retort, gently pushing her away from the stove. 

Suddenly, you feel Sevika's arms encircle your waist, her body warm against your back. She nuzzles into your neck, placing a soft kiss just below your ear. "Mmm," she hums, "doesn’t taste as good as you, though."

“Don’t think you can sweet-talk me into letting you try more,” you say, trying to stay focused despite the distraction she’s providing.

She chuckles again, her deep voice rumbling against your back. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

You smile, the familiar banter easing you into a comfortable lull. The gentle pressure of her arms around you, the way she’s so casually affectionate now, fills you with warmth. 

"Hey, did you bring home any fruit for the pudding?" you ask, turning in Sevika's arms.

You feel her tense slightly, her smile faltering.  "We’re having a bit of a dry season," she says, her tone careful.

The words hang heavy in the air. You know the reality - supplies have been tight lately, with produce struggling to grow and the scavenging teams venturing further each time.

Before you can dwell on it further, Sevika leans in to kiss you, clearly trying to change the subject. But as she does, you catch a whiff of something less than pleasant, and you instinctively pull back, wrinkling your nose.

"Babe, you fucking stink," you blurt out.

Sevika's eyes goes wide in shock, then narrows playfully. "Oh, really?" she growls, trying to pull you closer.

You dance out of her grasp.“Go start a bath,” you say between giggles. “I’ll join you in a bit, okay?”

She lets out a noise of disapproval but obeys regardless. “I wasn’t that bad,” she mutters as she turns toward the bathroom.

“Yes, you were,” you call after her, still grinning as you watch her go. “Go on, I’ll be there soon.”

With Sevika finally convinced, you head to your bedroom to grab some towels.

The bedroom has changed over the past year, becoming more of a shared space than it ever was before. Sevika's red shawl drapes over the back of a chair, while your jewelry glitters on the dresser. The wall above the bed is adorned with colorful drawings - Ren's artwork, depicting your entire makeshift family, the sight of it never failing to warm your heart.

It had started casually enough - a few items of clothing left behind after hurried encounters, a toothbrush appearing in the bathroom. You and Sevika were sneaking around, stealing moments together whenever you could.

When you finally told your family about your relationship, they celebrated, of course.   It wasn’t a surprise to them—they had seen the way you and Sevika gravitated toward each other, the looks you reserved solely for one another.  You found yourself practically living at Sevika's, though neither of you had officially acknowledged the change.

Then came the day you noticed the difference in her dresser. The already sparse drawers had been reorganized, creating a dedicated space just for you. Your scattered belongings were neatly arranged, claiming their place in Sevika's life.

You remember standing there, staring at that drawer, your heart swelling with emotion. It was such a small gesture, but it spoke volumes. Sevika, always more comfortable with actions than words, had found her way of saying "stay".

A small smile forms on your lips at the memory as you close the closet.  Gathering the towels, you head towards the sound of running water.

You settle onto the stool beside the bathtub, watching Sevika relax in the warm, soapy water. Her broad shoulders peek out from the bubbles, her head tilted back slightly as she rests, eyes half-closed in contentment. The sight of her—this tough, unbreakable woman— soaking in the bath like she has nowhere else to be, makes you giggle.

"You look adorable."

Sevika cracks one eye open, giving you a playful glare that’s nowhere near as intimidating as she probably hopes it’ll be. "I’m not adorable," she grumbles.

You reach for a washcloth, gently running it over her back. Your fingers work out the knots in her muscles, and you feel her relax under your touch. The bathroom is quiet except for the soft lapping of water and Sevika's contented sighs.

"Don't get me wet, Sev," you warn as she shifts in the tub.

“I thought I always did,” she shoots back with a sly grin, and before you can react, she splashes a handful of water at you.

The warm water hits you square in the chest, soaking your shirt. You let out a small gasp, and Sevika just laughs, clearly pleased with herself.  

“Now I’ve got no choice but to join you, huh?” you say, feigning annoyance as you peel off your damp clothes.

Sevika's arms wrap around you as you settle between her legs, your back pressed against her chest. "No funny business," you remind her. "We've got dinner later."

She groans, burying her face in your neck. "Do we have to do that?"

You intertwine your fingers with hers, squeezing gently. "Yes, we all need it. Even you, Miss Grumpy."

Sevika huffs, but doesn't argue further. It's rare to see her act so petulant, and you can't help but find it endearing. You lean back further into her embrace, savoring the warmth of her skin against yours.

A chuckle escapes you as a memory surfaces.

"What's so funny?" Sevika murmurs against your ear.

"I'm thinking about us," you reply, still grinning. "Remember the first time you came to family dinner?"

Sevika groans again, this time in embarrassment. That first dinner had been spectacularly awkward. Sevika, sitting at Vander’s table, towering over everyone, her presence so imposing that no one knew how to break the ice. You could feel the discomfort radiating from the others as they tried and failed to strike up conversation. Sevika, never much of a talker herself, hadn’t made it any easier. 

"I thought Caitlyn was going to have an aneurysm trying to make conversation," you laugh.

"She kept asking about the weather," Sevika recalls. "As if we don't all live in the same damn place."

“But my family loves you now.”

Sevika raises an eyebrow. “They’re still nervous around me though.”

“True,” you admit, chuckling. “But now they know you’re not going to kill them if they say the wrong thing. Well, most of them know that, anyway.”

”I like to keep them on their toes.” Sevika smirks, her lips brushing against your neck. “Can’t let them forget who I am.”

You turn in her arms, facing her now. "I don’t think they would be as afraid if they saw you in a bubble bath right now."

She narrows her eyes at you. "I’m still scary."

"Is that so?" you challenge, your faces inches apart. 

Instead of answering, Sevika closes the distance between you, capturing your lips in a kiss. You sigh into it, brushing a damp strand of hair behind her ear.

You're nestled against Sevika, the warm water lulling you into a peaceful state when a sharp knock shatters the moment. 

"Who the hell..." She's about to call out, likely with some choice words, when a familiar voice filters through the door.

"Sevika? You in there?"

It's Ran. Sevika's expression immediately hardens. 

She gives you an apologetic look as she carefully extracts herself from the tub, wrapping a towel around her body.  You remain in the bath, straining to hear the muffled conversation. Snippets reach your ears—"Silco... needs to see you... scouts..." 

By the time you've dried off and dressed, Sevika is already changed, her face grim. She's heading for the door, and you follow.

Out on the streets, the usual bustle of Zaun seems subdued. Sevika turns to you, her eyes softening slightly.

"It's just a quick meeting," she assures you, though her tone lacks conviction. "I'll be back, okay?"

You look at her, worry evident in your gaze. She must see it because she adds, "Family dinner is still on. I promise."

You watch Sevika disappear down the street, her words echoing in your mind. Despite her assurances, you can't shake the feeling of unease that settles in your chest. Instead of heading home, your feet carry you to a familiar path.

The old target practice area comes into view, untouched since Grayson's passing. The targets are weathered now, the paint faded and peeling. You moved the practice area after... after everything, but this place still holds a piece of history you can’t forget.

You settle onto the worn bench, you could almost hear Grayson's patient voice, the sound of gunfire. Now it's quiet, a ghost of what it used to be.

Lost in thought, you barely notice the approaching footsteps until a shadow falls across you.

"Quite the view from up here, isn't it?"

A man’s voice cuts through your reverie. You look up to see him, his usual sly smile in place. 

"Mind if I join you?"  He doesn't wait for an answer before settling onto the bench beside you.

“What do you want, Finn?” you ask, your guard instantly up.

“Just wanted a place to admire Zaun,” he replies. "It’s getting a bit crowded down there.”

You remain silent, wary of engaging. Instead, you’re both gazing out over Zaun—The community sprawls below, a patchwork of light and shadow.

"You know," Finn begins, his voice casual, "I used to come up here sometimes, watch Grayson train the new recruits. She had a way about her, didn't she? A real vision for what Zaun could be."

You nod, unsure where he's going with this.

Finn continues, his tone thoughtful. "Things have changed a lot since then. More people, less space. Resources getting tighter." He glances at you sideways. "Makes you wonder what Grayson would think of it all."

There's something in his voice that puts you on edge, a subtle challenge. You choose your words carefully. "Grayson always believed in Zaun's potential."

"Ah, but potential for what?" Finn leans in conspiratorially. "It looks like things are starting to fray at the edges. People are getting restless, hungry. And when that happens… well, who knows what might come next?" 

You feel a surge of anger, but you keep it in check, refusing to let him get under your skin. “Zaun’s strong,” you say firmly. “So if you’re trying to stir up trouble, you can take it somewhere else.”

Finn holds up his hands in a placating gesture. "Of course, of course. I'm just thinking about the future, you know? But hey, I'm sure Silco's got it all figured out."

Finn stands, brushing off his pants. "Give my regards to Sevika," he says lightly. 

"Tell her... we're all counting on her to keep us safe."

⁺˚⋆｡°✩

You and Sevika walk side by side through the bustling streets of Zaun, the rice pudding cradled carefully in Sevika’s arms. As you approach the door, you can already hear the sounds of laughter and chatter from inside. Before you can even step over the threshold, a blur of blue barrels into view. 

Just as Powder rounds the corner, she nearly collides with you, her eyes wide as she skids to a halt. “Oops, sorry!” she exclaims, a sheepish grin spreading across her face as she steadies herself. “Sorry, double for last time,” she adds with a knowing look.

It had been a few weeks ago, when Sevika was trying to grow out her hair, a fact she was oddly self-conscious about. You guys were standing in the courtyard, watching as Powder excitedly showed off her new contraption, a slime trap shooter she cobbled together from spare parts. 

The demonstration started off well enough, but suddenly a glob of viscous slime shot out wildly, landing with a wet splat right in Sevika's hair.

Powder's enthusiasm instantly turned into fear as she realized what she's done.The look on Sevika’s face had been priceless—a mix of surprise and horror as she reached up to touch the mess clinging to her hair.

“I’m gonna kill that kid,” Sevika grumbled, her voice low and menacing.  “My hair looks like shit.”

You’d barely managed to suppress your laughter when it first happened, but now in Vander’s bathroom you couldn’t hide your amusement. 

“So, that’s a no on having kids, then?” you joked as you reached for a pair of scissors to help trim the slime-covered strands.

Sevika had turned to look at you, her expression one of shock and something else—something deeper that neither of you had wanted to confront. It was just a small joke, but it carried the weight of a conversation you hadn’t yet had, and might never have. Sometimes,  you couldn’t avoid the fact that this was it for you two.

But you quickly brushed it aside, focusing on the task at hand. As you carefully trimmed the damaged hair, you leaned in close, whispering in Sevika’s ear, “You’re sexy already. No amount of slime will change that.”  

That had earned you a reluctant smile from her in that moment.

"No harm done.”  You tell Powder, inconspicuously kicking Sevika’s feet to agree.

“Yeah.” She grunts, and you hold in a snicker at the obvious grudge she held. 

As you enter the kitchen, you're greeted by the sight of Vander attempting to wrangle a massive pot of stew.  

“There you two are,” Vander says, looking up from his cooking. “Thought you might’ve gotten lost on the way here.”

“Not a chance,” Sevika replies, setting the rice pudding down on the counter with a grin. “This one would never forgive me if I missed dinner.”

“Damn right,” you reply. “You need any help, Vander?”

“Nah, we’re about done here,” Vander says, wiping his hands on a towel. “Just need to get everything into the living room. You know how these animals are when they’re hungry.”

You laugh, grabbing a tray of bread rolls while Sevika grabs a platter of roasted vegetables.  She follows you out into the living room, where the rest of the group is already making themselves comfortable. Ekko is lounging on the floor, watching Powder and Ren as they buzz around him. Caitlyn and Vi are chatting quietly in one corner, Vi’s arm casually draped over the back of Caitlyn’s chair.

“Hey you two,” you greet, setting the tray down on a table near the center of the room. “Food’s here.”

Vi reaches for a roll, and Caitlyn swats her hand. "Wait for everyone, you brute," she says affectionately.

"Come on, cupcake, I'm starving!" Vi whines dramatically.

Soon, everyone settles in various spots around the room, grabbing plates and piling on food. Vander passes around mugs of ale, the rich, amber liquid sloshing slightly as he hands it to the adults. 

Sevika sits down beside you on the floor, her back against the couch, and you hand her a plate, watching as she loads it up with a bit of everything. Powder's regaling everyone with a tale of her latest explosive experiment, complete with dramatic reenactments.

"You guys won't believe what I made today!" She exclaims, barely touching her food as she launches into her story. "So I took some wires from that old TV we found, and I connected them to a car battery. Then I rigged up this pressure plate..."

"And then - BOOM!" she exclaims, throwing her arms wide and nearly knocking over Ekko's plate.

"Watch it, Pow," Ekko grumbles, but there's no real annoyance in his voice.

The two of you eat in comfortable silence for a while, the sounds of laughter and conversation filling the room around you.  As the meal winds down, Powder's eyes light up with a new idea. She bounds over to you and Sevika.

"Hey, hey! You guys wanna play Nerf guns with us?" she asks, her eyes wide and pleading.

Sevika raises an eyebrow. 

"I modified them. They shoot further now, and I added a cool light-up feature, and-"

"Modified?" Sevika interrupts, looking slightly alarmed, she was already thinking about the last mishap with Powder’s “modifications”.

You laugh at the expression on Sevika's face, she couldn’t hide the suspicion and concern written all over it. "Come on, Sev," you nudge. "Could be fun."

Powder's practically bouncing now. "Please? Pretty please? I promise there’s no slime this time!"

Sevika sighs. "Fine." she concedes.

"Yes!" Powder cheers. "You won't regret it!"

Powder herds you, Sevika, Ekko, and Ren onto the couch, squishing you all together as she stands before you, eyes gleaming with excitement.

“Alright, listen up!” Powder announces, pulling out a set of nerf guns. The colorful plastic weapons are covered in stickers and doodles, clearly customized to her liking. She hands one to each of you.

Sevika takes hers with a skeptical look, turning it over in her hands. “You can’t shoot shit with this,” she mutters, the derision clear in her voice.

“Oh, yeah?” Powder smirks, clearly prepared for this. She whirls around, aims at a water bottle perched on the windowsill, and fires. The nerf dart flies across the room and smacks the bottle dead center, sending it tumbling to the floor with a satisfying thud.

Sevika raises an eyebrow, impressed despite herself. 

“Now that we’ve established these aren’t toys for babies,” Powder continues, pacing in front of the couch. “here’s the game: upstairs, there’s a crown stashed somewhere by Vi.  The goal is to retrieve the crown and bring it to Vander downstairs. Upstairs is a no-shoot zone, but downstairs, if you’re hit with a dart, you’re out.”

She claps her hands together, clearly relishing her role as the game master. "Now, we need to split into teams," Powder continues. "Sevika and Ekko, you're one team. And-"

You all glance at Ren, the youngest of the group at just eight years old. There's a moment of awkward silence as everyone tries to figure out how to handle this diplomatically.

"You should take her," you say sweetly. 

Sevika’s eyes narrow playfully, already sensing where this is going. “The kid likes you more."  Despite being dubious of the game at first, you could tell Sevika’s competitiveness was taking over.

“I thought this was just a kids’ game?” you tease, leaning in slightly with a raised eyebrow.

Sevika gives you a sheepish look, clearly caught between her competitive streak and her soft spot for Ren. 

Feeling a bit guilty, you suggest, "Why don't we let Ren pick?"

Ren beams up at both of you, clearly delighted to have the choice. "I wanna be on your team!" she exclaims, pointing at you and Powder.

“You’re gonna be our secret weapon,” you whisper, wrapping an arm around Ren’s shoulders.

“Alright then,” Ekko chimes in, finally managing to free himself from the couch. “Let’s do this.”

Everyone grabs their nerf guns and heads outside. You can't help but chuckle at the sight of Sevika, usually so intimidating, clutching a bright orange plastic gun with a determined look on her face.

"Alright, teams start at opposite ends of the house," Powder instructs. "When I give the signal, the hunt begins!"

You crouch behind a bush with Powder and Ren, all of you trying (and failing) to look serious with your toy weapons.

"Ready?" Powder calls out. "Set... GO!"

And with that, you all come barreling into the house. Powder darts ahead, her movements quick and erratic. You follow, trying to keep an eye on Ren while scanning for potential ambush spots.

As you round a corner, you come face to face with Sevika. For a moment, you both freeze, nerf guns pointed at each other. 

"Sorry, babe," you say, not sorry at all as you pull the trigger.

But Sevika's reflexes are faster. She ducks, the foam dart whizzing over her head, and returns fire. You barely dodge, and you take the moment to sneak onto the stairs.

Upstairs, you quickly begin your search, darting in and out of rooms, peeking under beds and behind curtains for any sign of the hidden crown.  Ren’s small size gives her an advantage as she slips into tight spots that you and Powder can’t quite reach.

But despite your efforts, it was nowhere to be found. "How?" you mutter, bewildered.

Powder's eyes narrow, scanning the area. "Ekko," she hisses, pointing to an open window. "He must've climbed up from outside!"

Quickly, you formulate a plan. Ren is dispatched to keep watch with Vander, ensuring Ekko can't make a sneaky victory while you and Powder hunt down Sevika and Ekko.

With that, you guys head back downstairs, moving quietly as you scan the house for any signs of the other team. As you move through the house, you and Powder eventually decide to split up, hoping to cover more ground. 

It doesn’t take long before you spot Sevika, her broad frame moving stealthily through the hallway. She hasn’t seen you yet, and you quickly close the distance, pressing yourself against the wall to remain hidden. When she finally turns the corner, you’re right there, catching her off guard.

“Drop the gun,” you command, your voice low and teasing as you pin her against the wall, your body pressing into hers. Sevika’s eyes widen in surprise, her hands instinctively going up in mock surrender, though there’s a glint of amusement in her gaze.

“And what if I don’t?” she murmurs, her lips quirking into a playful smile.

“Then I’ll have to make you,” you reply, your tone equally flirtatious as you lean in closer, the game momentarily forgotten.

"Ewww, get a room!" Ekko's voice breaks the spell. You spin around to find Ekko aiming at you, the crown tucked under his arm. 

But before you can react, Powder emerges from a doorway behind Ekko, her nerf gun raised and ready. Without missing a beat, she fires a dart that hits Ekko square in the back. “Gotcha!” she shouts triumphantly.

Ekko’s eyes widen in shock as he instinctively drops the crown, clutching his back where the dart hit. “Hey, what the fuck, Powder?!” he exclaims, his tone incredulous.

“Language, Ekko!” Vander’s voice booms from the kitchen, echoing through the house.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Sevika quickly knocks the nerf gun out of your hand. But before she can fully capitalize on her victory, you kick the crown down the hallway, sending it skittering toward the kitchen.

“Move kid!” Sevika barks as she grabs Ekko by the arm, dragging him behind a couch. Ekko, still nursing his mock wound, yells out dramatically, “Man down! Man down!”

There's a moment of tense silence, then Ekko's voice pipes up again. "I'm getting healed by a health kit!"

“What the hell?” Powder says with a look of utter disbelief. “There’s no health kit in this game!”

"Yeah, 'cause I took it!" Ekko retorts, popping up from behind the couch and unleashing a barrage of foam darts.

The living room erupts into chaos. You dive behind an armchair, Powder taking cover behind another couch. Foam darts fly in every direction, peppering the air with colorful streaks.

You peek out, catching Sevika's eye across the room. She winks at you before ducking to avoid a well-aimed shot from Powder. 

"Cover me!" you shout to Powder, making a dash for the hallway where the crown disappeared.

Ekko leaps over the couch, trying to intercept you. "Oh no, you don't!" he yells, unleashing a volley of darts in your direction.

You slide across the hardwood floor, narrowly avoiding his attack. Sevika provides covering fire for Ekko, keeping Powder pinned down.

As you scramble to your feet at the kitchen entrance, ready to grab the crown and make a triumphant dash to Vander, you freeze. The crown is gone.

A throat clears behind you. You turn to see Vander, sitting calmly at the kitchen table. Beside him stands Ren, a victorious grin on her face and the crown placed neatly on Vander's head.

The chaos in the living room dies down as everyone realizes what's happened. Ren's giggles fill the sudden silence.

"I believe," Vander says, his eyes twinkling with amusement, "that we have a winner."

For a moment, you're all too stunned to speak. Then Powder bursts out laughing, followed quickly by Ekko. Soon, you're all in stitches, the absurdity of the situation hitting you all at once.

As you catch your breath, you feel Sevika's arm wrap around your waist. "Can’t believe we were outsmarted by an eight-year-old," she murmurs in your ear.

You lean into her, watching as Vander lifts Ren onto his shoulders, parading her around the kitchen as the victor. Ekko and Powder are already arguing about a rematch and new teammates for next time.

As the excitement of the game winds down, Vander glances at the clock. "It's getting late." 

You nod in agreement, glancing over at Ren. “Do you want to stay at Powder’s or with us tonight?” 

Ren's eyes light up. "Stay with Powder!" she exclaims without hesitation.

Before you can even respond, Powder and Ekko are already shepherding Ren up the stairs, their voices a jumble of excited plans for a sleepover.

Caitlyn and Vi exchange a knowing look. "Ooh, you two are finally getting some alone time," Vi teases with a wink.

You feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment, but Sevika seems unfazed. 

"So, how are those new recruits doing on the walls? Getting the hang of things?"  You ask, trying to get the attention off you.

Caitlyn's face does a complicated dance between diplomacy and honesty. "Well, they're... enthusiastic." 

Vi snorts, unable to contain herself. "Come on, cupcake. Tell 'em the truth."

Caitlyn's facade cracks. "Alright, fine. Their aim is absolutely atrocious. I've never seen so many missed targets in my life. We had one recruit who managed to shoot his own hat off."

You all burst out laughing, the mental image too ridiculous to resist.

Vander shakes his head. "Everyday I’m thankful that’s not me, I'm getting too old for that kind of headache."

Sevika raises an eyebrow at him. "Not too old to keep experimenting with your homebrews though, are you?"

You all laugh at that. It's true - besides overseeing the community's agriculture, Vander's taken to crafting various meads and ales in his spare time.

"I'll have you know that my brewing skills only improve with age, unlike my patience," Vander puffs up his chest in mock indignation.  “And I'm taking back the ale from tonight, can't have you lot disparaging my other talents.”

Vi grins. "C'mon, Vander. You know the community needs that alcohol. How else are we supposed to cope with Powder's 'experiments'?"

This sets off another round of laughter, but your conversation is suddenly interrupted when Ren comes downstairs, looking shy and hesitant. 

"What's wrong, sweetie?" 

Sevika seems to understand before you do, her voice softening as she reaches out to Ren. “Come on, kid. Let’s get you tucked in.”

The three of you make your way upstairs, the house now quiet as the night settles in. Ren leads you to the bedroom she’s sharing with Powder and Ekko. 

Sevika moves to the bed, pulling back the covers and helping Ren climb in. Ren looks up at you both, her eyes wide and a little sad, as Sevika tucks the blankets around her snugly. “Can you get it?” Ren asks quietly.

You follow her gaze to the small play tent in the corner of the room, where she likes to spend her time during the day. You walk over, crouching down to peer inside, and that’s when you see it—peeking out from under a pile of toys. Your breath hitches as you recognize it instantly: Grayson’s yellow armband.

You carefully pull it out, the fabric worn but still vibrant, and bring it over to Ren. She takes it from you, her small hands wrapping around the band as if it’s the most precious thing in the world. “I miss her,” she whispers.

Your heart breaks at the sight of her holding onto that small piece of Grayson. You kneel beside the bed, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “I know, honey,” you say softly. “We all miss her. But she’s always with us, in here.” You gently place a hand over Ren’s heart, offering her a comforting smile.

Ren nods and she clutches the armband tightly, her grip strong for someone so small. Sevika’s expression is unreadable, a mix of emotions flashing across her face as she watches the scene unfold. 

After a few moments, Ren’s eyelids start to droop, exhaustion finally taking over. You lean down, pressing a gentle kiss to Ren’s forehead. “Goodnight sweetie,” you whisper.

You and Sevika quietly bid Ekko and Powder goodnight as well, sharing a few last words before heading back downstairs. The house is much quieter now, the energy from earlier having dissipated into a peaceful calm. You say your goodbyes to Vander, Caitlyn, and Vi, thanking them for the evening.

As you step out into the cool night air, the streets of Zaun are mostly quiet. Sevika’s hand finds yours, her grip warm and comforting. “You okay?” she asks.

You nod, though your mind is still on Ren and the armband. “Yeah,” you say softly, squeezing her hand. “It’s just… it’s hard sometimes, you know? Seeing how much she misses Grayson.”

Sevika doesn’t respond right away, but you feel her thumb brushing gently over your knuckles, a silent gesture of understanding. “She’s a tough kid,” she finally says.  “She’s more resilient than we think.”

You wordlessly agree, falling into a comfortable silence as you guys listen to the hum of the surrounding houses and your footsteps on the pavement.  For a while, neither of you speak, simply enjoying the quiet together.

You find yourself stealing glances at Sevika, admiring her profile in the dim light. She catches you looking and raises an eyebrow, a small smirk playing at the corner of her lips. You playfully bump your shoulder against hers, and she returns the gesture, a bit harder.

You smile, a soft chuckle escaping your lips as you bump her again, just to see what she’ll do.

Sevika doesn’t say anything, but you can see the corner of her mouth twitching upward, that almost-smile that she gets when she’s trying to keep her cool but failing just a bit. She bumps you back, a little more firmly this time, and you laugh, the sound light and carefree in the stillness of the night.

You nudge her again, and this time, she stops walking altogether. Before you can react, she grabs your hand, pulling you toward her with a gentle but firm tug. The sudden movement catches you off guard, and you stumble slightly, your hands instinctively reaching out to steady yourself.

But Sevika’s already there, her strong arms wrapping around you, holding you close. There’s a brief moment where you just look at each other, the playful teasing of earlier fading into something softer, more intimate. The distance between you disappears, and you feel the warmth of her body against yours, the steady rise and fall of her chest as she breathes.

She doesn’t say anything—doesn’t need to. The look in her eyes, the way she’s holding you, it says it all. 

Without a word, she leans down, her lips brushing against yours in a kiss. It’s sweet and gentle, and it fills you with a warmth that spreads through your chest, making you feel like you could stay here forever, wrapped up in this simple, perfect moment.

You melt into the kiss, your hand sliding from her shoulder to the nape of her neck. 

When she finally pulls back, it’s only by a fraction, her forehead resting against yours as she breathes out a soft sigh. You can't resist leaning in to place another quick kiss on her lips, delighting in the way it makes her smile.  

"What was that for?" you ask softly, not that you're complaining.

"Do I need a reason?" she asks, her voice husky but tender.

You shake your head, smiling. "Definitely not. Feel free to do that anytime."

She chuckles softly, pulling you close as you resume your walk home. Her arm wraps securely around your waist, and you lean into her, feeling safe and cherished.

taglist:

@mirconreadzztuff22 @lils-1979 @veoomvroom @schmoni

@poxismind @kittykatz1227 @archangeldyke-all @abbyssgf @ivorydevil

@lez-zuha @iamastar @jellyfishrnice @anemoxlys @l0vel3tterl0ver

@lavendersgirl @h0pe-scotch @lia-winther @kittykatz1227 @dontknowwhenispawned

@sevikitty @sarahduke @raphaellearp @cewl-casper @crying-lighting443

@sodavrr @sweet-lover-girl @love-sevikalove @pinkyykisses @glass-apothecary

@mulan-but-gay @lesbnrock @hyuckiesoftie @melanie-watermelon @powderbomb-jinxed

@levilvrr @theacedragon0w0

[auragasmics]

WRITHING HEARTS!

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° synopsis! it's marriage for business, pitting you as the engaged bride to one Gojo Satoru, known as a shameless playboy. but when your heart yearns to be with Geto Suguru, the lover behind closed doors, you'll do anything to wind up in his arms!

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° pairings! fem!reader x Geto Suguru

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂  ₒ𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° cw! 4.1k words, arranged marriage au, features Gojo Satoru, mentions of death/suicide, implied infidelity, oral ( m -> f) , missionary, cowgirl, cremepie, Gojo catches you in the act

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° xoxo, chris! sigh, i love this fic </3

A wedding they said, one that would unite the two competing companies into a mass monopoly to control the economic world. You being the poise daughter you were, accepted your parents’ request, relinquishing your chance at finding a pure and true love. It came with not even a bit of resistance, considering that you loved no man except your father.

You even knew the man you’d be wed to within the coming year, one that goes by the name of Gojo Satoru. He was a kind fellow with such charm that any woman could fall for him at the mere wink of his icy blue hues. 

In fact, that’s exactly what he did. What troubled you about the sudden marriage to Gojo was that his reputation was known as a playboy, using women for sexual gratification. It utterly disgusted you, knowing that someone as smug as he would be due to be your groom caused unrest within you. 

When the news had broken on national television, all seemed to be shocked, hailing you as the holy one. You were seen as the one who put an end to Gojo’s promiscuous ways, the photos of you both taking leisure lunches resurfacing from media blogs everywhere. However, that was only a small percent of the truth, something only you kept to yourself.

Those lunches were designed to shield from the public, staging it that you and Goji were such a happy couple. In truth, Gojo’s ways hadn’t changed, only keeping his personal affairs. In the very house purchased for the soon-to-be united by both his and your parents, he brought his mistresses and quick flings to your abode, a separate room reserved for his affairs. 

Even after numerous complaints and teary-eyed woes to your parents, they could not budge. They hated watching as their sweet daughter wailed in agony, sorrow dressing her words in these past few months since announcing the entire ordeal. 

In the darkest hours, that’s when your path just happened to cross with one man in particular, Geto Suguru. Geto was a man of former stature, his family losing their wealth due to extortion charges.

He was left with a small fortune before both his mother and father committed the act of suicide a few days before their prison sentence. From the age of fourteen, Geto was forced to endure the stains left behind by his parents.

He’s been shunned from the corporate world, only being invited to gatherings to dwell in the shadows of those who boasted of their success.

Geto would only linger for a bit before disappearing from sight. He was the biggest mystery, one that had your infatuation written all over it. You were unconsciously embedded in him, the wish to free him from his harrowing loneliness ate at you night and day. It had reached a point where you longer cared for your parents’ wishes, finally placing your desires before their own selfish needs. 

You needed to seek out Geto, for you own sake and at a chance of finally receiving peace of mind. As for how you both met, it was one of sheer coincidence, the both of you entering the lobby of a building your father owned in the city. You were well aware of who he was, his towering physique jutting from the crowd. You couldn’t help but be drawn to him, the rumors and mysteries shroud his name, but not a single person seeking out the answers they desire.

With every step you took towards him, an unsettling coil formed in your belly. Could it have been from the nervous strike attacking your body all of a sudden, or the words from your adolescence that reply at the forefront of your thoughts. A warning from your parents, advising you to stay away from that man, claiming that nothing good ever occurred when involved with him. 

You were refined to believe such an idea, judging the poor man without any pre existing context. You sought to learn the truth of Geto Surguru, especially at the risk of defying your parents. 

Once you had initiated the first words, a bright light was casted onto the darkness that covered Geto’s heart. He clung to you, deeming every intimate moment as rare as the jewels found in caverns. The man became intoxicated with your every fiber, and eventually led to your touch. You both knew it was wrong, but the vines of the budding rose to your romance was something that not even the false engagement to withstand. 

Yet, like the rose, it’s thorn will always come back to prick the one who gave it life, a lesson you would soon learn all too soon. 

“Gojo, could you not flirt while we’re together? It won’t look good for the tabloids,” you suggest, whispering the words of warning along the shell of his ear. He merely shrugs his shoulders, “It’s our engagement party, it’s not my fault there are so many lovely ladies here tonight!” 

You roll your eyes, the veins lining underneath your eye twitching with gall. You had hoped that Gojo would put aside his reprobate methods, even if just for the night.

However, the way he dressed tonight alone told a different story.

He wore a glaucous white silk dress shirt, his chest revealed to the wandering eyes of women who hoped to one day take your place beside him. The black trousers upon his body were tighter than usual, the bulge of his length just teasing the onlookers. His hair was styled neatly, hanging just past his ears with not a strand of the frosted locks out of place. 

Gojo wore a sneering smile, his best accessory by far. You knew that if you even left his side for a second, he’d be out of the room with a woman linked to each arm. Then again, you had nothing tying you to him, the urge to seek out your one true lover hanging above your head similar to the glass chandeliers adorning the ceilings. 

You wore a slim black dress, the neckline ending just below the curve of your ribs. It clung to your figure perfectly, drawing every eye to you. It was a piece that Geto found the most pleasing for the event, his assistance proving itself through all the praise.

Yet, you wished to be with him for the evening, not the snobbish man doomed to marry you within the coming days. It has been almost a year since your engagement to Gojo, but almost a year since meeting Geto. 

“Listen Y/N, you and I aren’t actually married, daring, hell, we can barely tolerate each other. You see, in the public, I’m your loyal husband, changed from his old ways. Yet, in private, I haven’t changed not one bit. I don’t plan to either, I love the way I am. I suggest that you find something that makes you happy too, sweetheart. It’s the only way you’ll survive in this life.” 

You whipped your head away from Gojo, the pestering tone of his suave voice pinched your nerves. Though it was as if the brash message was on demand, the sight of a familiar figure caught your eye, there stood Geto against the door, wearing a black turtleneck with navy blue slacks and a floral patterned suit jacket.

You felt your heart nearly skip a beat, the look of bliss etching onto Geto’s face as he spotted you. You practically ached to join him, your body desperate for the warmth only he could offer. 

Gojo seemed to be interested in socializing, his arm tugging away from the link you both formed an hour prior. He sensed the same urge to leave, to pick his new victim amongst the other beauties. It was only right if you freed him, right?

“Gojo,” you called, “I’ll go get some wine. See you at home later.” 

That was all he needed, ripping away from you to dive headfirst into the bundling crowd. You spun around to face Geto, only to find that he had left his position against the wall. 

A huff seeped from your lips, realizing that it would be near impossible to find a man who wouldn’t allow himself to be found. Gratefully for you, he was already closer than you had expected, just waiting to take you away into his world. 

“Don’t you look absolutely stunning?” A voice hummed, the palm of a large hand slipping along the curve of your shoulder. Just from the subtle peck laid against your skin, you knew who had finally gained their hold of you.

“You know better than to act so boldly like this in public, Geto. I’ll get in so much trouble,” you teased, but you’ve already decided to forego the thought of consequences once the dreamy scent of his cologne flooded your nose.  

“Why, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I want the world to know your mine, not that asshole’s.”

Geto slides the pads of his digits down your arm, your skin heating up at his languid touch. You spin around face him properly, a grin gracing both your faces. The urge to kiss Geto ran high, the tension between you both was something that couldn’t be ignored. 

“Can we leave this place? I hate loud parties like these,” you sighed, urging your face near his own.  

“But, it’s your engagement party,” Geto began, “It’d suck to have the bride be missing. Even worse to find her with a man other than her betrothed.”

A shallow pout poked out from your lips, the gloss reflecting the lights from above. “But, I want you, and only you, Geto. Can’t we make that happen?”

From his pocket, Geto pulled out a room key, the silver ridges twinkling before your widening eyes. “It’s the closest we’ll get to having our own space but...it’s better than nothing.”

Without another word, you and Geto took hold of each other’s hand, slipping from the masses and into the darkened hallway of the hotel. You peppered kisses all over his cheeks, the anticipation bubbling within your body. 

In that time that you’ve gotten to know him, Geto was far from all the names and warnings everyone was always so quick to spew. He was kind, gentle with his words and manners. You’ve come to realize that he would never harm a fly, nonetheless, does he live up to a quarter of the rumors surrounding him.

In other words, Geto was the one who had your heart. The marriage would only prove more difficult for the little arrangement you both had. Eventually, the relationship would have to be brought to light, regardless of your attempt to keep it hidden. 

“Are we in the clear?” He whispered, aligning the key with the slot. You nodded, checking the surrounding area for any onlookers for the last time. He pushes the door from its frame, pulling you and himself into the room.

With a slamming shut, you found yourself pinned against the shiny white paint, Geto decorating the pulse of your neck with pecks and bites. Your fingers found way to his hair, the thick ravenous locks latching around your dainty digits, encouraging Geto to proceed with his display of affection.

“I see you’re wearing that dress I like, almost like you wanted to get my attention,” he ventured, pulling away from the freshly laid trail of bites. You bit your bottom lip, the blood rushing to greet each ministration on your skin. It was all too overwhelming, but you fell prey to the amorous aura surrounding Geto, the searing ache amidst your legs leading your every move.

“I have no clue as to what you mean, I just really like the color black against my skin,” you purred, peering up at the impassioned man through your darkened lashes. Geto snaked a hand behind you, his fingers toying with the zipper lining the curve of your spine. With his lips brushing along the shell of your ear, he whispered the teasing words to spur you on.

“If you don’t mind, I happen to love what’s underneath the dress all the more.”

You surround the nape of his neck with your arms, leading Geto into the kiss just waiting on your lips, nodding frantically at his request. Without breaking the kiss, Geto stripped you bare of the silky material, leaving the matching hunter-green bra and thong set to don your body. 

“Aw, no fair. I didn’t wear anything you’d like,” Geto frowned, drawing away from your lips for a moment.

 You trailed your fingers down to the heavy belt buckle at the forefront of his hips, a sly grin creeping onto your lips. “Y’know how much I love those tattoos of yours, that’s all I need.”

Geto chuckled at your words, the pair of you working in tandem until he stood with only his briefs. He took a firm hold around your waist, lifting you from the cold floor. “I missed this, I’ve missed you,” he groaned, his teeth pinching at the supple skin of your breasts. You giggled in response, “It’s only been a few days, I don’t see how you miss me so much.”

Geto placed you onto the bed, the white sheets contorting around you as he planted his hands on either side of your head. “When you’ve been as alone as I have, you’d understand. In all of my twenty-four years, I’ve never been so happy,” he gushed into the crook of your neck. You giggled in response, “I can say the same, I’m so glad to call you mine.” Geto pried away, placing himself above you once again. 

“See, you love me and I sure as hell love you, I’m tired of hiding it. I mean, why can’t everyone know that I’m so much better than that Gojo. Do I have to demonstrate that to confirm my case,” he groaned tirelessly. 

You shook your head, “No, but I have a feeling you’re about to prove it to me.” 

“Damn right I will,” Geto boasted as he sank down to his knees, his face filling the spacer between your legs. He glared up at you, laying a trail of kisses along the plush of your inner thigh.

“I’ll prove it to you and I’ll do it well,” he quipped, the animalistic tone intertwined with each word. He hooked onto the sides of your panties, sliding the soaked cloth down your legs and away from sight. The calloused palm of Geto’s hand pressed into your stomach, pinning you down to the bed without choice. 

“Stay there for me, won’t you? I just wanna make this pretty pussy of mine happy,” Geto quipped, his lips placing a soft kiss onto the folds of your puffy cunt. You nod in agreement, all tension melting away from his touch. 

With the pad of his thumb, geto parted the lips of your cunt, the viscid mess of slick glimmering in his eyes. He was quick to attach his mouth to you, the flat of his tongue collecting every drop hungrily. 

A sharp gasp flooded your lungs, your back arching beneath him. There was something in Geto that seemed to have your body just fold at his command. In everything he did, he approached it with benign care. He knew every curve, nerve, and crevice of your body, each arc of your curling silhouette accepting him willingly. 

The earthy brown hues of Geto’s eyes were no longer in view, looking back to his head as he continued to immerse himself in your flavor. He rolled docile circles into your clit, a hum of praise vibrating from his throat. 

“Holy—don’t stop, Geto,” you mewed, biting back the moans that sought to fill the walls of the room. 

You sensed a nod of compliance from him, Geto suckling the pearl between his swollen lips. The heavy pool of nerves churning at the pit of your stomach surfaced, limbs stiffening at once. Your vision grew burry, the patches of white light piercing through.

His hands latched onto your wrist, guiding your own hands into the thick strands of his hair. Geto loved whenever you raked through his locks, tugging at the roots whenever the pleasure pooled over the limits you could handle. 

You began to tremble, your legs seeking something to grasp. Geto took notice, the robust strength of his arms clasping the underside of your thigh, He led your legs to drip across onto his broad shoulders, your thighs nuzzling Geto deeper towards you. A rush of thrill sped through his veins, Geto watching his efforts pay off with such pride. 

A harsh arch carved itself into your spine, your walls coming to a steel grip of nothingness as you release the woes of the day all onto Geto’s awaiting tongue. A groan emitted from his throat, the whites of his eyes reverting to the forefront of his visage.  

“Fuck, give it all to me,” he moaned, desperately dragging his tongue across your spasming clit. You rocked your hips against Geto’s slicked muscle, riding out the fleeting moments of your high. Your head tossed back with a final cry, Geto’s name singing from your lips.

He could only chuckle at your state, the pride brewing in his heaving chest. “See, I know Gojo can’t do that, even if he tried,” he jeered, pulling away from you. Geto stood from the ground, a visible spot of precum soaking through his briefs. You reached out to tug at the elastic waistband but Geto tacked your hand down on your stomach, hovering above you.

“Just spread those legs for me, and I’ll take even better care of you,” he hummed, sliding the tips of his fingers to squeeze at the underside of your thigh. You found yourself in the center of the bed, legs pressed into your chest. Geto was swift to strip from his briefs, standing before with eight inches to fill you with, his cock so heavy with the need for relief that it stood upright with no aid, the plushy pink crown of his length just riddled with thick streams of precum drooling from the slit. 

Geto held the base of his dick, gently nudging at your entrance. He studied at how the whole mass of his tip slid inside you, an enticing gasp following suit. 

“Don’t look at anything but me,” he hissed, Geto’s cheeks stricken with heat. He relished in the way you squeezed around him, your walks never fully being able to contort to his size. He would always give you a few minutes filled with kisses and words of encouragement until you adjusted around him, Geto giving you the slowest of thrusts to begin.

 “You’re doing so good, baby, just a little bit more,” he comforted, Geto’s hips driving a bit deeper. You rested your hands atop his broad shoulders, sliding down the expanse of his chest, admiring the way the sleeves of Geto’s tattoos complemented his body’s physique.

With such a strong build of muscles shaping his arms and the cuts of his hardened abdomen, even the patterns of ink that adorned his being were enough to make anyone squirm at a glance.

You were just lucky that person was you.

You eventually found your way to his waist, his hips rutting into you effortlessly. You pulled Geto into you, trapping him in with your legs around his waist. He took in a heavy intake of air, the hull of his chest expanding in compensation. 

“That’s new, something you wanna tell me?” He whispered teasingly. You bit back the onslaught of moans, the want to form an actual sentence gaining the upper hand. 

“Just want y-you closer,” you whined, the girth of Geto’s cock dragging against your walls at a sluggish pace. He stood still for a moment, staring down at you. 

“I’m not going anywhere, promise,” he cooed, pressing a kiss onto your perspired forehead. Geto slid his arm underneath your back, closing the gap between you both. He drew himself from your heat, a spew of curses leaving from his parted mouth. You had no clue as to what Geto had in mind but you knew he was far from done.

“I’ve been dying to have you ride me again, it’s practically all I think about these days,” Geto cooed as he crawled to the top of the bed, his back flush against the wooden headboard. 

You followed behind him, your arms encircling his neck. “Have you now? Is that all you think about?” You grinned, allowing for your legs to plant themselves on either side of Geto. 

“Of course not, but I love it when you do,” he beamed, his hands settling upon the curve of your ass. He kneaded the soft flesh in the palm of your hands, your body jolting in response. 

“Shh, save those chills for when you finally cum, it's a sight that I get to savor all to myself.” 

Geto snaked a hand between your bodies to brace his twitching cock towards crooned as he your entrance. You slid down his shaft with ease, your walls encasing his length snuggly. You lifted your hips, earning a seething hiss from Geto, the pressure already rendering him weak. 

“Why I barely did anything, don’t tell me you’re close already,” you taunted, carding through his locks that dared to cover an ounce of Geto’s lewd look of pleasure.

“Hell no, I just get a little excited, you know that.” 

You swiveled your hips against him, taking Geto in deeper until you felt satisfied to ruin the man beneath you. You couldn’t ignore the knot in your stomach, growing tighter with every rise and fall of your hips onto the unalloyed mass of Geto’s thighs. I

t was hard work to bring that prickling rush of ecstasy among Geto, but it was worth it all, the way he’d become drunk off you. His speech, his thoughts, and even the way he’d latch onto your ass to fondle at the mound of flesh all belonged to you, something that brought you more pride than your own family name.

Heavy pants of need leave from Geto’s strained throat, louder than the pornographic rings of skin crashing against another. You painted kisses and nips onto the velvety skin of his chest all the way up to his lips. 

Geto was sensitive, to say the least, between the deepening strides of your hips, the plush of your lips dancing against his own, and your pretty voice singing his name at the top of your lungs were all the ingredients for a disaster in the making. 

“Princess, how do you think Gojo would react if he found out that a degenerate like me fucked a beautiful little baby into his fiance?” Geto pondered between weak bucks into you, trying to gain back some type of control. 

You struggled for a moment, gathering the words around the mushed thoughts of your mind. “H-He wouldn’t care,” you mewled, using the fleeting bits of your energy to clamp down around Geto. 

“Good, that’s what I wanted to hear,” he moaned, tossing his head back as he came undone, the thick ropes of cum flooding your womb. You released a squeal of glee at the feeling, the sensation being one for the books. 

As you both came down from the high, Geto pulled you into his chest, the expanse of his pecs rising and falling at a staggering pace. “Fuck, you’re so good to me, Y/N.” Geto huffed, nuzzling a kiss onto your parted lips. You remained perched on his lap, back arching into his smothering hold. 

“I love you so much, Geto,” you whimpered, rocking along the thick length still plunged inside you.

“I love you beyond words. I hope that one day soon I’ll be able to m–” he began, only to find his impending sentence being interrupted. 

The sounds of voices rang from behind the door, the clicks of locks echoing around the room. You and Geto had no time to react, only facing who could possibly disrupt the intimate moment. 

“…and I said, "No, who the hell wants chiffon mixing with spandex?" designers are so stupid these days–Oh my! What have we here?!” The voice barreled out, the steps coming to a sudden halt. You shifted around on Geto’s lap, facing the onlooker head-on. 

“Hello…Gojo…” you grinned, staring back at the man, who just happened to have two women strung along with him. You couldn’t find it in you to feel even the slightest bit embarrassed if anything…it felt good to watch Gojo have the dumbest shock displayed on his face.

Geto didn’t budge either, his lips clinging to the corners of your malicious smile. “There seemed to have been a room mix-up…I’ll be on my way then,” he croaked, Gojo’s eyes still pinned on the scene before him.

You and Geto exchanged a quick glance, one filled with disinterest. It also seemed as if Gojo was hurt, hurt to find that his sweet soon-to-be wife had a filthy secret of her own. What a beautiful concept double standard can be, something that can be forgotten once it is done to the doer. 

You turned to Gojo, looking him dead on with an expression of apathy.

“You do that then.”

[kots-kots]

monster high au ~ vento aureo/golden wind

BUCCIARATI’S TEAM!!!

I imagine the Bucci squad holds a place somewhere around the middle in the popularity ranking but they’re quite admired, holding a decent reputation and at most being a bit intimidating to others but ummm yah :3

Bucciarati - He’s a frankenmonster with zippers instead of stitches!!! He can dismember himself partially or entirely like how he does in canon and use his limbs for long ranged attacks LOL

I was thinking he could be a class representative or the captain of the soccer team, being a year or two older than the rest of his group but being the same age as Abbacchio

Abbacchio - he’s a mix of a wraith and an algea, spirits of sorrow and misery—his kind particularly being born from regret and survivor’s guilt. He has the power of of psychometry so he can replay memories off the things around him. He can also share these ‘visions’ to those around him.

Abba is like. Super emo/gothic even for monsters LOL

He has a naturally pale complexion and just amps up the gauntness by a tenfold LOL

Bruno is his closest friend and they have matching tops >_< he also plays soccer me thinks….

Giorno - he’s a vampire/fairy!!! He’s a pretty boy basically LOL, the youngest in the group and also the most glittery

He has matching eyeshadow with Fugo

The dust from his wings can kinda accelerate life around you??? If that makes sense??? Like how Bruno perceived life at an extremely fast rate but his body didn’t??? His wings have that effect if u inhale it

Sameish powers from canon me thinks

Fugo - He’s a bunny cuz he’s canonically said to look soft and sweet but his temper…. Oooo mama people are getting RUSTIC out here 😭

He has part plant monster in him which can make him release poisonous spores through seed buds—they’re incredibly dangerous and much like Purple Haze in canon >_<

Narancia - he’s a spectre!! Cuz he’s.. a spectator ahahaha.. hahah… get it

His eye can pop out at will and float around to locations farther than his body for reconnaissance and scouting. He is still very much the ‘eye’ of the team. He’s apart of the dance club and is a pole vaulter for the track team 😭😭😭😭

BECAUSE OF HIS EYE ABILITY HE KNOWS TOO MUCH. This makes him and Mista the biggest gossips in school 😭 SPEAKING OF MISTAM

Mista is a harpy!!! He can use his feathers like bullets (kinda like Hawks from MHA in the sense he can control them individually)

I was thinking the Sex Pistols could be pixies or some small creatures Mista befriended LOL

I don’t have a species for Trish yet but she’s there 😿😿

I was also thinking they could high key be a band like. Torture dance… and Abba literally looks like he can play the keytar LOL + Trish is a singer!!! It’d be neat me thinks

also a doodle comic >_< kinda just Terence and vanilla’s dynamic explained

[dark-elf-writes]

You can't tell me that the teachers wouldn't be smitten by baby izuku. Like he has to spend some time in the teacher's lounge while the students are busy and the bean just starts gushing questions about their quirks and how cool thay are. Biggest surprise would be izuku managing to name most of the teachers including eraserhead. Yagi is on the side pretending not to be jealous.

PLEASE after so long of Izuku knowing All Might as smallmight they’re gushing over the teachers like:

“Eraserhead you’re so cool how you fight mostly quirkless! And Present Mic you’re amazing! Midnight I’m not allowed to watch a lot of your fights but I still know you’re the best. Some old guy… Snipe you’re so cool!”

They would never let Toshinori live it down.

That being said All Might would be getting some massive amounts of side eye because of any of them would have known that Midoriya was quirkless it would be him.

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Tis The Season: Chapter 1 (Human Alastor x Wife!Reader)

AN: This is for @voxtekinc's winterfest! A personal request addon to the prompt was that I smut it and that it was MisD AU where Reader met and married Alastor instead of Laurance when she was young.

Prompt: Finding out your loved one has a terminal illness and Christmas day was their final day so you want to make the most of it.

CW: Angst, soft smut, dying family member

Summary: Alastor is faced with the horrible reality of his mother's ailing health. When this looks like it could be their last christmas together, he tries to will the truth to be different with his wife tries to make as many memories as possible. Tis the season for pie, decorating a tree, exchanging gifts and spending time with family. Smile everyone, It's Christmas!

The front door creaked as it opened. It was a foreboding sound, far better suited for the fall harvests with their ghost stories, ghouls, and goblins than it was for the festive winter season, with its cheery music and twinkling lights. 

“Alastor?” you called out, drying your hands on the towel as you stepped into the living room from the kitchen. 

Your husband had been out, attending to a physician’s appointment with his ailing mother. It was unsaid, had been for most of the year, but both of you suspected- no, you knew it in your heart- that this would be her last Christmas on this earth. 

The look on Alastor’s face as he hung up his hat, shrugging out of his overcoat, told you it was no longer a suspicion for him either. 

“Oh, Al.” you sighed, taking a few steps forward on trembling legs while tears welled in your own eyes. “How long?” 

Alastor looked broken, on the edge of tears himself as his head hung low, hair fighting to curl. He looked up at you over the tops of his glasses, raindrops distorting the polished surface. He was a tall man, easily towering over most men and nearly all women in the city, but in that moment, shoulders slumped, he never looked so small.

He wrapped his arms around you, not sparing a second to toe off his shoes. Your heart sank more, if that was even possible. Alastor was always one for taking your shoes off in the comfort of his home, for being comfortable. 

He clutched you as he wrapped his arms tightly around you. You ran your hands up his back, letting your nails scratch up his neck and along his scalp. You could feel his body shake with every shuddering breath he took. 

“A week,” Alastor whispered, sounding so much like a boy. 

Your heart broke for your husband. He was the strongest man you knew, working long hours, at times sleeping at the station to ensure he had the best quality work to put on the air. 

He did all of that, not to provide for you but to make his Ma happy, to make her proud of him. Of course, he had accomplished that long ago. She was proud of him before he had his big break. She was proud of him before he married. You were pretty sure she had been proud of him since before he was much more than a fledgling of a man. 

“How is she?” You blinked back tears, desperately not wanting to take the attention off of him. 

“She’s brave,” Alastor said, face tucked into your neck. “She’s so much braver than I am.” 

“She has to be,” you whispered, failing to hide the sorrow in your voice or to stop the tears from running down your face. “How else could she raise such a brave man?”

“I’m not ready.” Alastor sniffled against your shoulder, wetness soaking into your dress as you held him. 

“I don’t think anyone ever is.” You stroked his back, fingers working over tense muscles as he took long, deep breaths. “What are we going to do? Did she say what she wanted to do?” 

“She bemoaned not getting to see her grandchildren,” Alastor said, shoulders slumped as you continued to hold him, not saying anything about the tears soaking into your dress. “And wants us to spend the week with her, to be with her when she…” 

He couldn’t say it. That was alright, you didn’t need him to say it. 

“Okay.” You worked your fingers through his thick hair, the tips of them getting lost at the roots, where the curl was never really tamed. “We can do that.” 

“You don’t mind?” Alastor finally looked up at you, wet eyes rimmed with red, eyebrows furrowed. 

“Not at all.” You forced a smile on your lips, wet from the tears that hadn’t made a perfect path to your jaw. “She’s a wonderful woman and I’m honored that she’d want me to be at her side along with you when she…” 

It turned out you couldn’t say it either. 

“I’ve made a mess of your dress,” Alastor murmured, fingers running along the wet fabric. “I’m sorry, forgive my moment of weakness.” 

“Nonsense.” You leaned up on your toes, taking advantage of Alastor still being stooped over you to place a soft kiss on his damp cheek. “You don’t have to be strong for me all the time. Let me be the strong one sometimes, alright?” 

~~~~~<3

You were surprised when Alastor’s arms slipped around your waist, pulling your back to his chest as he settled into the bed. It was late, and you’d been tossing and turning for hours as you waited for your husband to settle into bed for the night. 

You didn’t blame him for staying up with a glass of rye. God above knew the man deserved it. That didn’t make you feel any less lonely in the bed, though. 

At first, you hadn’t minded. In the darkness of your bedroom, tucked under the heavy quilts, you allowed yourself a good cry. It wasn’t something you had wanted to do with Alastor. It was his time to grieve; he didn’t need to be holding you through your grief. 

Finally, as he held you to him in the dark, you could really relax. Sleep threatened to take you quickly, only to be chased away by the sound of your husband’s voice. 

“Cher?” His hot breath sent the little hairs at the back of your neck dancing, tickling the sensitive skin. 

“Yes, Al?” 

“Let’s have a child?” Your heart soared at the question only to plummet, crashing to the ground. 

“You do not wish to be a father,” you whispered, turning onto your back, twisting to face him better.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Alastor said, pulling you to him as he leaned into you, rolling himself atop you. Legs tangled with legs under the blankets. “Please, Cher. Let’s just do it. I want to. You’d make a wonderful mother.” 

“Alastor?” You sighed as his lips descended upon your neck, peppering you with sweet kisses that threatened to steal all your good sense. 

“Please, Cher?” Alastor rocked his hips against you, pushing his hard cock into you. 

He was already naked, ready for you. When you opened your mouth, preparing to question him again, he kissed you softly. You sighed, not able to resist the sweet rye flavored kiss as he ran his hand up your thigh. 

Resistance was pointless. You knew that as much as he did. Your husband knew well how to kiss you, how to touch you, to render you thinking of nothing more than your desire to have him inside you. 

You knew better and yet you couldn’t help but submit as his hand pushed your nightgown higher up your thighs. There was a need, one that reached far deeper than just sexual as he held you, sinking his cock slowly into your wet hole as if perhaps if he was inside of you everything would be okay again. 

He sighed, breath washing over you as he seated himself fully. Making love with Alastor was often a passionate affair. He was an eager lover, in control and dominating, stealing your breath away, leaving you screaming his name as you dug your nails into the bedsheets. 

Tonight, you made sweet love with your husband. Though he had said he wanted to make a child with you, that was clearly just a small part of what he was after. Soft sighs and loving caresses were paired with the soft rolling of his hips into yours. 

Each slow pass of his cock through your walls stroked the low fire inside you. You held onto your husband, hands roaming over his strong back, nails scratching at his scalp. You gasped his name, back arching as he stroked your sensitive walls. 

Your orgasm came with a whimper and soft sighs as your walls fluttered around him. He moaned your name as his cock twitched inside you, succumbing to the waves of your orgasm, allowing your body to milk him of his seed. 

Even as his breathing slowed and your orgasms faded into pleasurable aftershocks, he held you tightly to him. He took you with him as he rolled to his back, tucking you into his side as his softening cock slipped from your body. 

“Alastor?” you asked, tracing shapes you couldn’t see on the muscles of his chest while his seed leaked from your opening, still twitching with the pleasure. 

“Yes, my love?” His voice was soft in the dark. 

“Why did you change your mind?” You were terrified to look up at him, to somehow see something that would break your heart in the darkness. 

“I- Its stupid and unimportant.” 

“It’s important to me,” you leaned forward, kissing his chest softly. “Even when you’re stupid, it’s important to me.” 

He huffed, an indignant sound at your playful insult. You were one of the few people to get to see him raw, unpolished. You saw him stumbling through the house, looking for the glasses perched atop his head. It was you that saved him from putting salt in the coffee he was making for you, nearly asleep on his feet but refusing to sleep in. 

“If- Maybe, somehow, if we fell pregnant, she’d stay,” alastor whispered. “Maybe, if there was a grandchild coming, she won’t go.” 

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers including the first page of the next chapter of MisD a day early!!

[hannieween]

the soulkeeper’s betrayal — prologue

When Jun realizes that something has gone awry in his kingdom, he has no choice but to ask for help from his estranged wife. Though not without paying a price.

› pairings: wen junhui x female reader › aus: hades jun, king jun, exes to lovers, husband jun › genres: angst, fantasy, fluff, smut (18+) [none in this part] › word count: 661 words

› 🎧: things we lost in the fire – bastille | nfwmb – hozier | end of the affair – ben howard | lover please stay – nothing but thieves | conspiracy – paramore | only – ry x | cosmic love – florence + the machine | caught up – sights & sounds, nicole dollanganger . . . listen on spotify

› this fic is part of the greek gods collab ✧

» read more

no warnings apply in this part

› prologue, the journey

The morning felt stale under a colorless sky, announcing a cold and cloudy day ahead. A soft whooshing sound preceded the breeze that swept through the forest, rustling the leaves of the timber trees.

The leaves had begun to turn a vibrant shade of yellow, the King noticed. As he gazed at the land before him, he felt the urge to bend down and pick up the leaves that had begun to blow around his feet in the wind, creating a soft, crumpled blanket on the ground. 

He paused for a moment, aware that the wind was whispering something from afar. It carried with it the distant, melodic calls of phoebes, their voices echoing through the crisp air of the morning.

Junhui tilted his head forward, allowing the cool breeze to brush and sweep between his eyelashes as he closed his eyes. With a gentle, respectful gesture, he bowed to the wind, feeling its whispers in his brown hair.

The earth would gradually grow barren and lose the sweetness of spring. This was familiar to him; he had witnessed the signs time and time again. Yet this time it carried a significant weight—it meant that you were on your way here, it meant that you were coming home for the very first time since you had met. 

With a deep, steadying breath, he straightened his neck, feeling the anticipation rising within him, he felt an exhilarating rush of energy coursing through him. Slowly, he opened his eyes to the land stretching before him. 

Paradise. Where the sunlight seems almost tangible, it rises but never reaches its zenith. Colorful waves of grass stretch far and wide, dotted with small mounds of tiny white flowers, inviting anyone to rest their head on them.

This place was beautiful. At least this side of his kingdom was tranquil and robust with color. The birds choose to seek shelter and sleep here. It is where the souls who were granted peace would grow quiet and witness the king of the lands spend his mornings.

The place reminded him of a long-lost childhood. The music from the phoebes, the cold but gentle breeze. He wanted to run, he wanted to become one with the wind and not feel anything at all.

But alas, the dread came.

“What are you doing here, Clotho?” he asked, his voice was low and raspy from not speaking to anyone in what felt like months.

“It is time. Must follow tradition,” she said with a gentle tone, but Junhui knew better. He knew she was pressing on the importance of your arrival there. One of the Fates, only doing her work, but vague as to how to be tactful. 

“I am aware of that. Thank you,” he replied, turning to face her, turning his back on the land.

Her pale face looked stricken with worry and embarrassment as she lowered her eyes to the ground. “Forgive me.”

Jun raised his gaze to the silvery sky, trying not to roll his eyes. “You have nothing to apologize for,” he said coldly. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Clotho frowned. Those around him saw his apathy, and they took it as a sign that he was grieving his break-up with you. They were right; his heart was heavy with sorrow, even if he refused to show it. Beneath the surface, a storm of grief raged within him, slowly consuming him, even if he wore a mask of calm.

You came into his life in the most devastating way imaginable. Like a merciless wave, washing away everything that preceded you, leaving only you. Your arrival was not only abrupt, but it was like a shock that altered the course of his existence, forcing him to deal with the remains of the things you made him feel.

But then he lost you, all because of a lie. Now, as autumn slowly awakened, you were coming to him; it was time to make amends.

Only if you let him.

› author's note: heeeey (❁´◡`❁)

this is the prologue to a one shot i have planned to release on november 16th!

this is kind of a challenge for me because i never write detailed descriptions of places. i hope you like this one-shot. hehe

toodles!

support me on ko-fi? 🥹🩵

© RIGHTS RESERVED TO HANNIEWEEN I DO NOT ALLOW TRANSLATIONS, CONTINUATIONS, REIMAGINATIONS OF MY WORKS OR THEIR REPOSTING ON OTHER WEBSITES.

[sincerelyyycece]

hey, are u still there?...good.

Y/N inevitably finds themselves settling into James's backburner.

note: modern au, inspired by niki's song, "backburner.", lily evans is briefly mentioned, here's what i promised you guys mwa mwa!

sincerelyyycece © ─ all rights reserved. please do not repost/translate/copy any of my work.

Y/N had always been the "backburner," the second choice, especially James’s second choice. She was the one he turned to when his first plans fell through—the one who was always there but never the priority. She was used to it and had grown comfortable in the role.

Right now, she's sent at least 15 messages to him.

Hey?

Can we meet up? I have some great news to tell you.

Hellooo.

You're probably busy. Text me when you can.

James?  Did something happen?

Nevermind, I'm probably overthinking it.

I'll just tell you here.

I got the internship :)

Delivered. Gazing at her screen, she sighed with a sense of familiarity. This repetitive pattern felt more like a routine or a game to her. The 'How long till he talks to me again?' Game, as she calls it. Setting her phone aside, she sought distraction from the mundane task of doing laundry.

A moment later, her phone chimed, drawing her attention. With a swift motion, she turned towards it. Hastily, she wiped her damp hands and cleared her throat before uttering, "Hello?" On the other end, she could hear faint shuffling before a familiar voice greeted her, "Hey, Angel." The affectionate nickname warmed her heart. "Just got your text. Congratulations!" he exclaimed. A soft "thank you" escaped her lips in response. His greeting sent a wave of warmth through her. "Apologies for not replying sooner. I was with..." He paused, clearing his throat. Her mood dimmed at the mention of another name. "With someone. I was with someone.”

Lily, always the first choice, James's top priority, the standard against which she measures herself. "Yeah, sure," she responded, lacking enthusiasm. "Mm-hmm," he trailed off. "So, do you want to celebrate? We could go out to eat or stay in and watch a movie," he suggested. "I'm not really feeling up to it right now. I'm pretty tired." There was a rustling sound on the phone once more. "Look, if this is about earlier, I apologize, alright?" he said. "Lily had some things going on and wanted to meet up, so we did." There it was again. Everything revolves around Lily.

"Um, yeah, I understand," she stuttered, trying to articulate her thoughts. "It's not that, James. I'm just exhausted from chores," she explained, glancing subtly at her unfinished laundry pile. "Y/N, come on. Let me make it up to you," he pleaded earnestly. "Pretty please," he persisted. She shook her head, amused, and relented, saying, "Okay, okay." Through the phone, she could hear his small yet enthusiastic 'yes.' "Order some takeout. We'll have a cosy night in with a movie," she suggested. "Yes, ma'am. I'm on my way," he joked lightly. "Take care." With that, she hung up and returned immediately to her laundry task.

Following that day, they continued hanging out. She pondered over the abrupt shift in their dynamic. It was uncharacteristic for her, yet she relished every moment spent with him. He delighted her by taking her to places she longed to visit and presenting her with gifts tailored to her preferences. He seemed to be doing everything right. However, as she prepared for a movie night tonight, a disheartening text message appeared on her phone. Hey, something came up. I have to reschedule. Sorry. She sighed, feeling a tinge of disappointment. Perhaps she should have anticipated this turn of events.

Sure, we can reschedule. she replied, her eyes brimming with tears. As they cascaded down her cheeks that night, she found herself immersed in a sea of sorrow. The following morning, she anticipated a message from him, but none arrived. Disheartened once more, she resolved not to reach out again. Days turned into weeks, with silence echoing his absence. It seemed as though he had vanished from her world. Or so she believed. Suddenly, her phone interrupted her reading, and without lifting her gaze from the book, she answered, "Hello?”

"Hey, are you still there?” echoed the familiar voice in her ears. Pausing, she glanced at the caller's ID. 'James :)' flashed on the screen. With a soft hum, she replied. His sigh reached her ears before he responded, "Good." Once more, she felt relegated to the sidelines in his priorities or had she truly ever moved from that place? Despite the familiar sting of disappointment, Y/N responded, "Yeah, I'm still here, James." His sigh of relief was almost audible across the line, and for a fleeting moment, she felt herself soften.

"I'm sorry, Angel," he murmured, his voice laced with a mixture of regret and something else she couldn't quite place. "I've been...busy." Busy, always busy. But she knew what that meant. Lily. Yet, she found herself replying, "It's okay, James. I understand." She knew she was settling for less, allowing herself to be on the backburner once again. But the truth was, she couldn't help it. She was drawn to him, like a moth to a flame, willingly choosing to dance on the edges of his life, even if it meant getting burned time and time again.

So, she swallowed back the hurt and disappointment, offering him a smile he couldn't see. "We can catch up soon, okay?" She suggested, her voice steady. There was a brief silence before he answered, "Yeah, that sounds good. I'll see you soon, Angel." With that, the call ended, leaving her with the familiar echoes of his promises. She sat alone in the silence of her room, her heart heavy yet hopeful. As she closed her eyes, she knew, deep down, that she was still James's second choice, his backburner. But for now, for better or worse, that was a role she was willing to play.

[goldsbitch]

Past lives

Charles Leclerc is opening an ice-cream shop...And nobody knows why.

romantic, soulmate au, one shot, short

"Past lives couldn't ever hold me down Lost love is sweeter when it's finally found I've got the strangest feeling This isn't our first time around" - Past Lives, Børns

It's the little things that resonate for no apparent reason.

The fact he would always lean towards a perfume with bergamot undertones - because ages ago, the love of his life was obsessed with bergamot tea.

The fact she would have the windows open at any possible occasion - because in her past, she and the love of her life lived in a small house at the top of a windy hill.

The fact he hated alcohol, because in one their lifetimes, the love of his life drowned her sorrows a little too often and lost herself in it.

The fact she could not watch war time movies, because in one of their past lives he died tragically, and a little too early for them to build a proper life together.

They did not get to meet in each life. But when they did, it was one for the history books. Not the ones about grandiose, history changing events, but the little sweet ones, usually to be found at the back of the antique bookstores. The mundane miracles that are hard to describe to the unlucky ones, who do not get to experience them. Some of them end up with a happy end, some of them with the biggest life lessons human soul can swallow.

It's the strange feeling of "I belong here" or "I think this will taste good". Why? Because you had seen it in the past, because you had been there in a different life time.

Fate plays a funny little game. Has one and their soulmate born just in time for them to be able to find each other, but likes to put obstacles in between. Distance, social barriers, conflicting dreams.

This kind of love leaves traces around the history. Songs, poems, buildings and initials carved into stones and benches. Wedding rings passed on in families and eventually sold once everyone has forgotten. Portraits of unknown faces and photos found at the bottom of old wardrobes. The ancient piping in an old house that still works because he built it for her to live in.

The soul keeps a memory, unreachable to the simple mind of the body, as it travelled from one lifetime to another.

That's how she found herself staring at a random, actually not that important, painting hung in a gallery exhibition dedicated to landscapes from the romantic era. She wasn't exactly a galleries type of person, but a girls trip to Paris had to include something more than parties and shopping. She stood there for good five minutes, totally mesmerised by a painting that did not particularly stood out from the rest. Little did she know that the silhouette standing in the field was one of her past self and that the painting had been done by her soulmate in one of their luckier past lives. It was like she could smell the summer weeds growing, hear the ground under her feet and understood what the author wanted to capture. And he was successful enough to capture the attention of his love throughout centuries once again. As her friends dragged her away to end their artsy part of their trip, she made sure to mark the name of the artist.

For some inexplicable reason, Charles Leclerc, in this life a racing driver, was opening an ice cream shop in in Milan. It probably would have made more sense to everyone, himself included, if he'd known that in one of their luckier past lives, he and his soulmate met in a small café in that city, few decades before that. He would come in one day, order an ice-cream and then did not stop coming until he managed to charm her.

[enviedear]

ִֶָ ࣪˖𓉸ִֶָྀི ִֶָ་༘ᯓ enviedear's FEAST OF THE DEAD

𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚠𝚎𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚠𝚎𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚟𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚜—𝚊 𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍—𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐-𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚝—𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚢𝚜𝚘𝚗. 𝚊 𝚐𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚊𝚛, 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚞𝚙. 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚎'𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚖 𝚊 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚎, 𝚗𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍—𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚊 𝚠𝚎𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚎. 𝚑𝚎'𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚊𝚕 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑.

CW | corpse bride au, ghost!dick grayson, reader doesn't want her arranged marriage, dick doesn't want to be a roaming spirit anymore, written like if victor chose emily. 0.8k words

NO GRAVE CAN HOLD MY BODY DOWN

the night air is stout with the scent of pine and earth, thick and heavy, almost too potent—mystifying. as you wander deeper into the woods, the last rays of evening slip between the ochre and russet leaves, casting flickering shadows on the path. there's a certain solace in the quiet rustle of the trees, so far from the chaos of wedding plans and the weight of expectations—the very thought of it all feels like a heavy cloak draped over you, stifling instead of freeing.

you started walking aimlessly after slipping away from the rehearsal. drifting through the woods and muttering practiced vows, but the words still feel foreign on your tongue. as if they belong to a life that isn’t yours. step by step, a strange unease tugs at you, wrapping and coiling around your heart. it isn’t that you don’t care for him—it’s just… complicated. there’s a yearning in you, a longing for choice, for a different path, seemingly left unbeaten.

eventually, you find your way upon the old graveyard, a place so veiled in melancholy and life's only certainty that it feels oddly comforting. headstones lie weathered and half-sunk, moss eating up the carved words, whispering secrets of lives long past. in the fading light, you find a quiet spot beneath an ancient oak, its branches stretched wide above you like protective arms.

you kneel in the soft grass and set down the small velvet pouch holding your wedding ring and tied with a blue ribbon. something about saying your vows here feels almost sacrilegious, yet the isolation within your chest wraps around you as you close your eyes, the weight of it pressing in.

"from this day forward," you begin, voice wavering and off-pitch. "in sickness and in health, in joy and in sorrow…" each word floats into the silence, a promise of things hoped for but unfelt. perhaps forever. left to crave a love that’s less like a cage, something free, wild, untethered.

as you finish your vows, the ring slips from your shaky fingers, catching a glint of twilight before it lands beside an unmarked grave. the ground seems to hum beneath you as the ring settles into the earth.

"forgive me." you murmur, suddenly hyperaware of the fact you're disturbing someone's resting place. as you reach down to retrieve it, your fingers brush the cool ground, and the earth beneath you trembles, the wind stirs, whipping the leaves into a frenzy. the shadows seem to thicken, leaving your seeing splotches in your vision.

and then, he appears.

stepping from the shadows, a figure woven of moonlight and sorrow—he stands in a weathered suit that calls out from a time long gone, his jaw is sharp, dark hair tousled, and his eyes plunging, glimmering with a haunting loneliness.

you stumble back, heart pounding. "who—who are you?"

"they called me dick," he says, his voice low and lyrical, woven with threads of regret. "i was a groom who once made promises. now they're a memory…and you have called me forth."

his gaze falls to the ring in the grass, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "how fitting, your offering. a proposal, i assume?"

"no! i—I didn’t mean to—" you're fumbling for words—the correct words.

"but you did." he steps closer, a spark of hope flickering in his eyes. "your vows, your longing, your regrets…they pulled me from my rest." his fingers graze the edge of a headstone. "i am bound here, wandering, longing for what i’ve lost. but you stand before me now. what else is there for me to do...but say yes?"

a shiver runs down your spine as he draws nearer, the weight of his presence both enthralling and terrifying. "but i can’t marry you. i don’t even know you."

"ah, but you do." he steps into the moonlight, his figure almost merging with the shadows, an apparition knitted from sorrow and darkness. "you feel it too, don’t you? this pull, this haunting need. i've wandered empty, bound to nothing but silence… until you came."

you shake your head, reality shattered and narrowing in. "i'm engaged—i have a wedding to go through with. please..."

"yet here you are." he counters softly, almost mockingly, "rehearsing vows you don’t believe in, in a place where time has no grasp." his gaze locks onto yours, piercing, searching and he leans in. "what do you truly want?"

your heart hammers as you grip the ring in your palm. "i want freedom. i want a choice in my own life."

"then choose me." his voice is soft, a plea dressed in honey. "let me be your companion. not to bind you, but to journey with you. i'm sure it's more than most could give."

the air around you grows thick as you weigh his offer, the pull of the life you know against the thrill of an unknown freedom, shimmering like distant stars.

"will you take my hand?" dick’s ghostly blue eyes are full of expectancy, a light in the darkness. "come on, it would be so easy. allow me to unravel the ties that bind. just say yes."

caught in a fork in the road—your life path divulging into two. you feel the ache of longing, the lure of something that feels like fervent fate. and so finally, with a trembling breath and a shaky hand, you whisper, "yes."