#stay tuned for it cause it’s entering your atmosphere!

[p4p1l0nn]

can you write make up sex for jaehyun🙏🏼🫣

kiss me again.

pairing: boyf!jaehyun x reader

content warning: 18+ make up sex, multiple orgasms, slight dom!jaehyun, table sex, oral sex, mdni.

a/n: thank you for sending in your request! i hope this meets your expectations. enjoy reading! now moving on to work another piece, stay tuned ♡

you held onto the dining table tightly while jaehyun thrust forcefully from behind.

you let out long, strained moans. everything felt like a blur. it was happening so quickly it felt like watching a fast-forwarded movie in your mind, leaving you breathless and consumed by sensation.

earlier today, what started as a small disagreement between you and jaehyun snowballed into a heated argument. neither of you were willing to back down, leading to raised voices and a tense atmosphere.

fuming with anger, you stormed out, slammed the door, and drove to work. instead of getting things done, you spent the day stewing over your anger instead of concentrating on your work.

throughout the day, your mind kept replaying the argument with jaehyun, each moment fueling your frustration further. despite attempts to focus on work tasks, your thoughts kept drifting back to the disagreement, making it nearly impossible to concentrate. the hours dragged on, and by the time you left the office, the anger hadn't subsided.

as you drove home, the tension lingered, weighing heavily on your shoulders. each passing mile seemed to magnify the unresolved issues between you and jaehyun. you pulled into the driveway in a rush, the tires screeching as you parked the car; your anger often translated into reckless driving.

when you finally entered your home, the sight of jaehyun standing there caught you off guard, intensifying the already simmering emotions within you.

his presence was unexpected, and his attire, or lack thereof, only added to the confusion. dressed in nothing but a brief, jaehyun stood before you. you struggled to read his expression as you processed his sudden appearance. it was clear that the unresolved conflict from earlier in the day had followed you, and now, face to face with jaehyun, you knew it was time to confront the issue head-on.

you were just about to give jaehyun a piece of your mind for surprising you, but before you could react, he pushed you back against the door with a loud thud.

his lips crashed onto yours in a rough, passionate kiss, full of urgency. his actions were forceful as he reached under your skirt, ripping off your panties and tossing them aside.

with your wrists pinned above your head, he continued his advances, his thumb applying pressure to your clit, eliciting a pleasurable cry from you.

jaehyun buried his face in your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. “you drive me crazy,” he muttered against your skin, his lips trailing kisses along your neck as his thumb circled your clit.

moaning softly, you could barely find the words to respond. “jaehyun, please . . .”

he sucked on a sensitive spot, causing you to gasp. “please what?” he teased, his voice husky.

“please don't stop,” you pleaded, your hands clutching at his shoulders.

he grinned against your skin before redoubling his efforts, his lips and tongue working in tandem with his skilled fingers. moments later, you cried out his name as pleasure washed over you.

as you caught your breath, he sank to his knees in front of you, his gaze burning with longing, “wanna taste you,” he breathed out, his fingers tracing the edge of your skirt before lifting it gently. without hesitation, he buried his face between your legs, eager to fulfil his promise.

you gasped and tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. jaehyun thrust two fingers inside you, expertly finding that spot that drove you wild. as he skillfully stimulated you, your moans grew louder.

soon, another wave of pleasure washed over you, leaving you trembling and weak-kneed. you leaned against him for support, your legs feeling like jelly.

jaehyun withdrew his fingers and lifted you effortlessly, carrying you over his shoulder. he gently placed you beside the dining table.

with care, he helped you step out of your skirt and discarded his own underwear, revealing his erection. as he removed your blouse and tossed it aside, you began to come back to your senses, remembering your lingering anger towards him. you instinctively placed a hand on his chest, hesitating.

“jaehyun, wait- just wait, please,” you pleaded.

“no, i’m not done with you,” he insisted, turning you around and bending you over the table.

and that's how you found yourself in your current situation, with jaehyun thrusting into you so intensely that all you could focus on was the overwhelming pleasure of his large cock filling you.

the table's edge pressed into your stomach as jaehyun’s hips collided with your backside. though it was uncomfortable, with your third orgasm looming, you couldn't muster the energy to move.

not that he would have allowed it, anyway. his grip on your hip was firm, and his other hand held you in place just below your neck. but you didn't mind; you were exactly where you wanted to be.

jaehyun’s thrust quickened, you couldn’t help but moan loudly, your nails desperately trying to cling to the table’s surface.

“oh my— shit, jaehyun!” you cried out.

“yeah, that’s it, baby. take it all,” jaehyun urged through gritted teeth. “do you like that, babe? do you like the way my cock feels inside you?”

“f—fuck y—yes, feels amazing, i love it.”

“show me how much you’re loving this,” he said, thrusting forcefully enough to leave marks.

“a–ah j-jaehyun–”

“fucking come on my cock. now.” jaehyun exclaimed, giving your ass a firm smack. the smack coincided with his cock hitting your sweet spot, sending you into a screaming climax.

jaehyun’s pace faltered, and his breaths became quicker. when you relaxed a bit, he slowly pulled out, rolled you onto your back, and helped you sit up on the edge of the table.

noticing the mark on your stomach from the table's edge, jaehyun bent down to kiss it softly.

just as you were going to question why he hadn't come, he suddenly gripped your hips and resumed thrusting.

you couldn't believe you were ready for more. then, he lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist while keeping himself inside you.

it felt amazing, and you didn't want to disrupt whatever he had planned.

jaehyun led you to the stairs, showering you with kisses along the way. carrying you up, each movement made you bounce on his shaft, sending a wave of pleasure through you. he groaned as your walls tightened around him. you began to wonder how he hadn't came yet, amazed by his self-control.

he paused at the staircase, just a few steps away from your shared room, catching his breath. leaning against the wall, he held you close, his breath tickling your neck. after a moment, he guided you both to the bedroom.

in the bedroom, jaehyun carefully lowered you onto the bed and positioned himself between your legs. lifting one of your legs onto his shoulder, before reentering you with hard thrust.

jaehyun then focused his attention on your breasts, gently cupping them and teasing your nipples. your moans grew louder as you urged him him to increase his pace. as his thrusts intensified, so did his teasing, edging you closer to climax.

“i’m getting close . . .” you moaned. “come with me.”

he nodded, quickening his pace. gripping your nipples firmly, you both gasped for breath, exchanging heated kisses.

shortly after, you came for the fifth time, moaning jaehyun’s name as he reached his peak with two final thrusts, filling you with his release. collapsing on top of you, he sighed with relief.

as jaehyun regained his breath, he peppered your face and neck with kisses, staying close to you.

“i am really sorry about earlier, baby,” he said sincerely. “i know i’ve been away a lot, and the last thing i want is to fight with you when i’m finally home. it’s all on me. i’m truly sorry.”

“i guess i forgive you,” you responded, your mind drifting back to the morning’s argument.

“do you . . . do you really forgive me?” jaehyun asked, sounding concerned.

“yeah, i do forgive you,” you assured him. “i just— it’s kind of silly, but do you remember what we were arguing about this morning, jaehyun?”

jaehyun shook his head, unable to answer. “i guess i don’t remember,” he admitted with a smirk.

“well, i guess we’ll just have to find another way to work out our frustrations,” you giggled.

“if it helps you forget why you’re mad, i’ll keep doing it, babe.” jaehyun joked.

“but honey, i gotta say, that was amazing,” you whispered, cupping both jaehyun’s cheeks tenderly.

jaehyun smiled warmly, his eyes filled with love. “i’m glad you enjoyed it,” he murmured softly.

leaning in, you planted the softest kiss on his forehead, then trailed down to his nose and lips. “you’re incredible,” you said, voice filled with love.

jaehyun’s heart swelled with happiness and grinned, “you know, if the smallest argument could lead us to this, i’d argue with you every day,” he admitted.

you rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. “oh, shut up.”

[ugotnojamzzz]

Rulers of Ruin Pt.I

Chapter 1

Alright so I’ve been toying with this complex mafia!au fic idea for a very long while and I guess it’s time to give it a whirl. I already have about ten chapters written out (I’m expecting it to be at least 20 chapters), but I want to test out the waters first. I’ll start posting more if some of you are interested in knowing what the hell is going on.

Genre: Mafia!au , Slowburn, Angst, Hurt, eventual smut, TW (it is a mafia!AU, after all)

Pairing: Mafia!Jungkook x reader

Synopsis: um, tf is going on??? Stay tuned for more chapters to come, because you are clearly about to be confused.

Disclaimer: English isn’t my native language. Also, don’t come for me over the theme, people. It’s an Alternate Universe, which means the bangtan boys are essentially what I like to call meat puppets to serve the storyline. This is obviously not a projection of their actual real-life personas.

Wordcount: 1.9k

Her pulse echoed in her ears, a rhythmic drumming that seemed to sync with the slow return of her consciousness. A sharp pain throbbed at her temple, and a dull ache spread across her cheek when a voice sliced through the lingering fog in her mind.

“Rise and shine,” it sang.

Bound and blindfolded, she sensed the cold, hard back of a wooden chair against her spine. Panic clawed at her chest, and she made an instinctive, futile attempt to move her arms, only to find them securely tied. The room’s air was charged, heavy with an unspoken menace that made the small hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

As the blindfold was abruptly removed, a harsh light assaulted her eyes, forcing her to squint and struggle to orient herself in the unknown space.

Her gaze landed on a pair of unfamiliar eyes, their owner concealed in the shadows. "You're not gonna cause any more trouble, are you?" the stranger asked, his words heavy with an unspoken threat.

Her throat felt like sandpaper. “W-where am I?” The words scraped out of her, barely above a whisper.

Rather than answering, the stranger stepped closer, his features gradually unmasking from the shadows. He was young, platinum blonde hair framing a face that presented the kind of sharp angles that both captivated and cut. His eyes were fixed on her with a depth that tightened her stomach.

He leaned in, his hand lifting to trace a cold line down her jaw, prompting a reflexive flinch from the girl. “You're in a place where questions get answered if you cooperate,” he murmured, his eyes gleaming momentarily. "You’ve caused quite a stir around here.”

The girl’s mind raced, trying to piece together what could have led her to this place. "Please," she whispered, her voice quivering, "I don't know what you're talking about. You must have me confused with someone else."

The corner of the man’s mouth quirked up in a knowing half-smile, amusement flickering in his eyes. He tightened his grip, fingers pressing uncomfortably into her jaw. "You may not remember my face," he said, the familiarity of his accent unsettling, "but I certainly haven't forgotten yours, little bird."

The nickname seemed to send a jolt of nervousness through the poor girl.

She continued to plead, her eyes welling up with tears, the very picture of fragility. “I-I don’t know who you are, there’s been a mistak-” she insisted, though her voice faltered.

The man’s expression hardened. "You should save your tears,”he said curtly, using his thumb to wipe the single bead rolling down her cheek, “I’m not the one you’ll need to convince.”

As her gaze dropped, she caught sight of a tattoo peeking out from under the man’s collar—an unmistakable symbol. The realization hit her like a wave.

She was not merely in danger - she was deep in enemy territory.

 She’d been taken by the Kim clan.

A sudden banging on the door cut through the tense atmosphere, causing both to turn their heads sharply toward the sound. The door swung open, and four men entered the room. The air thickened with the palpable sense of impending action, and the girl braced herself silently.

“Guess it’s time to meet the boss,” the man said, as he cut her ties in one swift motion “Go ahead, guys.”

Without a word, two of the men grabbed her firmly by the arms, hoisting her to her feet with practiced ease. They escorted her out of the room, their grip unyielding as they navigated her up a narrow, creaking staircase.

Every step heightened the girl’s alertness. As they reached the top of the stairs, she found herself in the expansive hall of what could only be described as a mansion. The opulence was almost disorienting, but her eyes, quickly adjusted to the surroundings. Golden light pierced through the curtains; it must’ve been the early evening. She noted the strategic placement of security cameras in every corner, barely concealed by the luxurious decor. The presence of armed men stationed discreetly at every doorway did not escape her eye either.

She was led into an elegant parlor, where her eyes instantly landed on a tall man standing by the fireplace, his back facing her. Broad-shouldered and dressed in a finely tailored suit, he casually dangled a glass filled with amber liquid in one hand.

His voice, resonant and commanding, broke the silence without him needing to turn around. "Has she calmed down yet?"

One of the men still gripping her arm replied, "She hasn’t said a thing, but—" His words were abruptly cut off as the man by the fireplace raised his hand in a dismissive gesture without so much as a glance.

Then, with a smooth motion, he finally turned around. With a tight jaw, the girl scrutinized his features as he drew nearer. Behind thin-rimmed glasses, his eyes, deep and penetrating held a feline intensity.

Stopping in front of her shaking figure, he reached out and cradled her face with surprising gentleness. His fingers delicately grazed her bruised cheekbone, his touch careful yet firm, as if he were appraising something precious that had been marred.

The girl remained silent, her jaw clenched tightly, refusing to show any sign of weakness. Observing her reaction, or lack thereof, he turned his attention back to his men, his voice taking on a sharp edge, "Who did that?” he asked, his eyes sweeping over the faces of his subordinates, searching for the culprit. The room held its breath. “I said no touching her face."

The tall, broad-shouldered man sighed in frustration as the room remained quiet. Without another word, he walked slowly towards the blonde man who had been part of her escort. “Go get Seokjin,” he muttered. The subordinate nodded sharply and quickly exited the room.

Within a minute, the door opened again. The new arrival wore a white coat that brushed against his calves. He approached the captive directly, his expression focused and professional, ignoring the others as if they were merely part of the room's elaborate decor.

As he neared, the guard holding her arm tightened his grip reflexively, a habitual show of dominance. She winced slightly—a brief, almost imperceptible reaction—but it did not escape the doctor's notice. His eyes shot towards the guard, piercing and stern. The intensity of his gaze was enough for the guard to hastily release his grip on her.

The doctor then turned his attention back to his patient. He examined her face gently yet thoroughly, his fingers skilled and efficient as they traced the contours of her injury.

Meanwhile, the man who appeared to be the leader paced before his men, his frustration evident in each measured step. He paused, turning to face them with an expression of controlled ire. "When will you understand the meaning of orders?" He paused, allowing the weight of his words to sink in, his gaze piercing each of his subordinates in turn.

The men shuffled uneasily, their heads bowing slightly in a mixture of respect and fear. No one dared to meet his eyes.

“We’ll make sure it heals nicely,” the doctor finally spoke, his voice calm yet carrying an undercurrent of firm command, “there shouldn’t be a hint of a scar.”

The leader's hands clasped behind his back as he continued his slow, deliberate pacing. "We operate on precision and discipline," he lectured, his tone growing colder with each word. "Lapses like these—" he gestured dismissively towards the girl "—not only undermine our efforts but jeopardize our entire operation.” She shut her eyes as she took in his every word.

He stopped abruptly, standing straight "What do you think her brother is going to do when he sees that?” His voice rose slightly, as his eyes locked onto the platinum blonde, who seemed particularly uneasy, “huh, Jimin?"

The room had fallen into stunned silence when suddenly, a light giggle pierced the quiet. The leader spun around to locate the source of the sound. Everyone stood frozen in shock, realizing the unexpected laughter had come from the girl.

As all eyes moved to rest on her figure, the girl sighed nonchalantly. Perhaps it was time to drop the act. "He won't," she stated with a shake of her head. Her sudden firmness caught everyone off guard.

The leader paused, his expression shifting to one of intrigue. "So, she does speak," he remarked, his steps deliberate as he closed the distance between them. His tall figure loomed over her. "Care to repeat?" he pressed, his voice low and commanding.

Her demeanor shifted; the façade of vulnerability dropped away, replaced by an air of cool indifference. Now that she knew who she was dealing with, there seemed to be no point in maintaining her mask of ignorance.

 “I said he won’t see this,” she replied, her posture relaxed, an almost dismissive roll of her eyes accompanying her words. The room's atmosphere shifted palpably, her casual dismissal of the threat to her person surprising everyone present.

The leader gave a slight gesture of his hand, and with that, his men quietly exited the room, leaving only him, the girl, and the doctor.

"You know… you may want to look at your enemies' track record before you go on holding their family hostage," the girl continued, her tone breezy but edged with a sharpness that belied her relaxed posture. "But you do know of my brother already, so tell me-” she paused, her doe eyes locking with his, “what’s the plan, Namjoon-ah?"

The casual address was a clear breach of decorum, nothing short of a middle finger, really. It made the doctor pause in his ministrations, his hands freezing momentarily in shock at her audacity.

Namjoon’s reaction, however, was one of amusement rather than offense. His smirk deepened, a spark of respect—or perhaps appreciation—for her daring flitting across his features.

“I’m surprised you remember my face,” he remarked.

“A raven remembers both friends and foes,” she retorted.

"You’re quite bold, aren't you?" he mused aloud, his gaze appraising her anew. "For someone in your position, I mean."

The girl met his gaze, her own eyes unflinching. "I’m afraid boldness might be all I have left," she replied steadily.

“Kicked out of the will, huh?”

The girl’s eye twitched slightly at his remark, but she didn’t let it show. “Too many strings for my taste.”

“Ah,” Namjoon exhaled, “free birds do soar higher,” he paused. “Is that what you’ve been, though?” He took a sip from his drink, a satisfied smirk across his face. “Free?” She didn’t say a word.

"Alright,” the tension was momentarily pierced by the doctor's exasperated interjection, “are you finally going to tell me what the hell this all is about?"

Namjoon turned slightly, as smile playing on his lips, before addressing the doctor with a controlled calm. "Seokjin," he began, his voice smooth, "let me introduce you to our guest, Park Y/N."

Seokjin lifted his eyes to rest on the leader, his face etched with disbelief as he muttered a soft curse under his breath. Jesus fucking Christ.

Namjoon's eyes, however, never wavered from Y/N's, his gaze intense as he continued, “our very own Raven Gongju.”

___

*cue suspenseful music*

___

Hope you liked it. If some of you are intrigued or interested in finding out more, don't hesitate to interact and I'll start posting some more chapters!

Chapter 2

Masterlist

[sanguineterrain]

get a little action in | miguel o'hara

Summary: Spider-Man doesn't like you. And for the record? You're not crazy about him either. But you kind of wish you could see his eyes when he swings you across the city. For curiosity's sake.

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x gn!reader (some Spanish language is female-gendered, but other than that, no gendered descriptions.)

Word count: 2.2k

Content desc: rivals, superhero!reader (kinda - they're trying their best). miguel's a bit of a jerk ngl but he's a SEXY jerk <3 very enemies to lovers coded. swapped insults, injuries, and a whole lot of charged flirting. (lyla thinks they're adorable.)

A/N: i actually think this fic is the closest i've gotten to miguel's canon personality compared to my previous (delusional) characterizations of him lol. hope you guys like this one! as always, i appreciate corrections to the Spanish if needed, but it's no one's responsibility to do so!

Translations: 

¡Chingada madre! - Motherfucker!

¡Pinche pendeja! - Fucking asshole!

¡No mames! Eres una idiota. - I don't believe this! You're an idiot.

¡Cállate, por Dios! - Shut up, oh my God!

¡Ay, coño! ¿Qué demonios haces? - Oh, fuck! What the hell are you doing?

¿Qué? ¿Qué quieres? - What? What do you want?

¿Estás loca? ¿De dónde sacas esas ideas? - Are you crazy? Where do you get these ideas?

No seas estúpida. - Don't be stupid.

Porque tu haces un desmadre. Eres un dolor en el culo. - Because you make a mess. You're a pain in the ass.

Ve. - Go.

follow @sanguine-marvel for all future miguel fic notifications!

“All units be advised: 10-33 on 10th and Palisade. Suspect is known as “Captain Darkness.” Approach with caution.”

You shove the police scanner into your bag and stash it in the alley by your apartment. You’re close to 10th and Palisade, and the cops have lost Nueva York’s newest supervillain, Captain Darkness, three times already. For all the mocking headlines the press write about him, he sure seems to be the one laughing every time.

You pull your mask over your face as you make your way to the abandoned factory on 10th and Palisade. It looks normal from the outside, but the code means there’s been an explosion. 

Probably best to enter through the back. 

It’s dark, because supervillains like to nail the atmosphere, and that means there’s no budget for lighting. The factory smells damp, moldy. You hope you don’t get sick. Vigilantism doesn’t come with health insurance.

You stay close to the wall, ears tuned for any sounds. Usually, a good villain would have clocked your entrance by now. The fact that Captain Darkness (a stupid-ass name for a stupid-ass villain) hasn’t—

BRIIIING! BRIIIING!

Alarms blare throughout the factory. Your ears ring from the volume. 

Okay. Maybe you’ve underestimated him.

You run; stealth doesn’t matter now, only speed. Captain Darkness is, predictably, at the center of the factory. He has all the typical workings of a mad scientist: electric ball thingy, giant lie detector-looking thingy, et cetera. You go up the stairs of his platform to get closer.

Except there’s something you’ve never seen before. It sort of resembles a portal. Fuck.

Captain Darkness spots you immediately. He has giant crab legs fused to the lower half of his body, which you’d think were sick if he wasn’t such a jagoff. 

“Well, hello,” he says, sneering down at you. “I don’t believe we’ve met. Are you one of the Spiderlings?”

“I’m offended by the suggestion,” you say, darting towards the electric ball first. 

It looks easy enough to shut off, except the Captain blocks your path immediately. He knocks you across the platform. You cough at the impact. The concrete bruises your right temple.

“Alright, that’s it.” You grunt, pushing yourself up. “Now I’m gonna kick your ass for real.”

The Captain laughs. “By all means, hit me with your best shot.”

So you do. You manage to knock him backwards, his clunky crab legs sliding on the platform. You take the opening and shut off one machine, which causes a crackle of electricity in the air. The hair on your arms rises.

But being a mad crab scientist apparently means you have a lot of time on your hands, and Captain Darkness whips out what looks like a ray gun. He blasts you and knocks you off the platform. You hit your ribs hard, and your vision blurs for a second.

The portal begins to whir, warming up. Captain Darkness towers over you, grinning maniacally.

“Your efforts are adorable, but I suggest you find another line of work. No one will stop me from opening a portal. Once I venture to other worlds, I’ll be unstoppable. This world will be mine! Finally, everyone who ever—”

“Oh my God,” you groan, clutching your ribs. “Please don’t start monologuing. Do you know how cliche you sound right now? Blah blah blah, your parents didn’t give you enough attention so you’re insecure and power-hungry. Do I look like Dr. Phil to you?”

His eyes flash and one crab leg grabs a nearby tool cart. 

“You’re no longer amusing me,” he says. "Goodbye." 

The tool cart is flung in your direction, and you roll, covering your head and bracing for the worst. But the crash never comes. You look to see several orange webs wrapped around the cart. The cart flies backwards and hits Captain Darkness right in his face.

Miguel O’Hara lands on the railing of the platform, perched gracefully. He doesn’t waste a second in going after the Captain.

“Oh, where did you even come from?” you shout, pushing yourself to stand. “I have it handled!”

“I’m not dignifying that with a response,” Miguel growls as he easily dodges the Captain’s grasp. 

He swings to the other side, aiming for the portal which has now fired up. 

Perfect. Damn it, it should be you that J. Jonah Jameson will scream about on the news tomorrow morning, not Spider-Dorito. 

You force yourself to get up so you can try to apprehend the Captain. But he has other plans; one of the machines sparks, and suddenly, hundreds of flying crab-shaped robots pour out of the mouth of the portal. Miguel shouts orders to Lyla. 

You’re only interested in one thing: taking down Captain frickin’ Darkness. So you go after him, leaving the factory. Unfortunately, the crab-bots take that as an invitation to leave too, zeroed in on your destruction. Your ribs are killing you, and whatever the Captain blasted you with left a nasty gash on your hip. 

Still, you limp and pant through the pain. You’re not letting this guy get away a fourth time. No way. Captain Darkness has been a thorn in Nueva York’s side for several weeks now and you’ve been tracking him for just as long. You need to get him.

“¡Chingada madre!”

You glance over your shoulder and see a flash of blue and red. Miguel is right behind you, fighting through the cluster of crab-bots. The sight makes your blood boil.

“Fuck off!” you wheeze out. “He’s mine, O’Hara!”

“If you hadn’t stumbled in and screwed everything up, we wouldn’t even be in this situation right now!” he snarls. “¡Pinche pendeja!”

Fucking Spider-Man. It’s because of him that Nueva York doesn’t even know who you are. Every time you get remotely close to taking down a criminal, Miguel swoops in and saves the day. Not without giving you grief, of course. You’re too weak, too disorganized, too slow—you’re too wrong, according to him. He’s told you multiple times to stay away, but hey, he should know by now you’re also too stubborn to listen.

You pull your hand away from your rib. It’s tacky with blood. You’re slowing down, too; you aren’t enhanced like a hero is supposed to be, and after going two rounds with Captain Crabcake, it seems you’re about to meet your untimely fate with killer crustacean robots. 

You really should’ve become a lawyer like your mother wanted.

“¡No mames! Eres una idiota.”

You feel Miguel’s breath on your neck before his arm curls around your waist. You cry indignantly but he doesn’t let go, heaving you into his grip and continuing to run.

“Let go of me!” you demand, wiggling in his grip.

“Shut up.”

“I don’t need you to save me,” you snap.

He looks down at you, red masked eyes burning into you.

“No? ‘Cause every time you screw up, I’m the one fixing your mess. How many times have I told you to go home?”

“I had it under control,” you say. 

Miguel doesn’t even look at you. Your injuries are jostled with every step and you have to fight to not whine in pain. But you don’t try to squirm away again. You’re no match for his strength, and, unfortunately, he’s a lot faster than you. If you want to live, Miguel’s your ride. 

“Lyla, find me a route.”

Lyla pops up on Miguel’s other shoulder. She leers at you, raising her eyebrows.

“Am I interrupting something?” she asks. 

“Lyla. Route, now.” 

“Alright, alright,” she says, sounding far too smug. “Might I suggest going airborne?”

Your fingers dig into Miguel’s giant shoulder as he flings a web string at a nearby fire escape. He shifts you to one arm. Your eyes pop out of your head.

“No, wait, I have a terrible fear of—”

He doesn’t wait, the asshole, and you scream as he pulls both of you up. Now you’re bleeding, clinging to the worst person in the world, and at least two hundred feet off the ground. Somehow, killer crab-bots would’ve been better. 

���¡Cállate, por Dios!” he shouts, jerking his head away from you. “Unless you want me to drop you.”

“I’m gonna kill you, O’Hara,” you say, closing your eyes. “I’m gonna—oh, God.” You swallow hard, feeling dizzy. “I think I’m gonna hurl.”

“Do not throw up on me.”

You peek over his shoulder, trying not to watch the buildings blur by. That’s when you spot the army of robots behind you. And they look mad.

“Shit, shit!” you hiss, jolted out of your nausea. 

You reach down Miguel’s broad back, feeling for the nifty little gadgets you know he keeps on him.

“¡Ay, coño! ¿Qué demonios haces?”

He swats at your wandering hands. You smack him back.

“I’m trying to save us, if you don’t mind!”

“Do not touch anything—” he starts.

A bot whizzes by, firing at you both. Miguel wobbles on the next swing, trying to fight off the bot. 

“Lyla, three o’clock!” you yell.

Tiny rockets fire from Miguel’s suit, taking out several bots. There’s too many, though; you need another plan.

“Lyla, run diagnostics on the bots,” you say, grunting as Miguel swings sharply around a corner.

“Lyla, don’t do anything I don’t tell you to,” Miguel says. “She’s not yours to—”

“Water,” Lyla interrupts, understanding where your brain is. “They malfunction in water.”

“Huh. That’s ironic.”

Ahead, the waterfront is quickly coming into view. You pinch Miguel’s shoulder. He hisses, his suit’s eyes narrowing at you. 

“¿Qué? ¿Qué quieres?”

“The Hudson,” you say. 

“I can’t just dive into the river, we’ll both—”

“Use me as bait,” you say. 

“¿Estás loca? ¿De dónde sacas esas ideas?”

“I pull them out of my butt,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“You couldn’t even destroy the portal,” he says scathingly. “I’m not throwing you into the river, tempting as that is.”

“You don’t have a better idea, smartass. And unless you want them tearing up Manhattan, you’ll do it.”

“No seas estúpida,” he says. 

“Can’t help it. It’s one of my superpowers.”

Miguel lands on a rooftop. He drops you none too carefully, and you land hard on your butt. You grunt, the movement squishing your injury. 

“Lyla,” Miguel says.

“Yup,” she says, popping up on your shoulder and scanning your body. “Bruised ribs, and a gash right on top. If you wrap it, they’ll be fine.”

Miguel takes out a bandage and tears the top off. You’ve seen them before; they’re of his own creation, and used widely by his Spider Society. Never on civilians, which is what you are, according to him.

He crouches and shoves your suit up, then wraps the bandage around your stomach. The wrapping begins to expand and you feel the sting of cold gel. He yanks your suit back down without a word.

“I’m sure my ribs are broken,” you say through a wheezy exhale.

“Nope! Just bruised. You really shouldn’t fall from those kinds of heights,” Lyla says cheerily.

“Yeah, you were definitely programmed by him,” you mutter.

You start to get up. 

“Don’t even think about it,” Miguel says. 

“Screw you.”

“You living here screws me enough.”

“I don’t need your help! Why can’t you stay in your own damn lane, O’Hara?”

“Porque tu haces un desmadre. Eres un dolor en el culo.”

“The feeling is mutual,” you say through gritted teeth. “And you can’t stop me from going after him.”

His suit’s eyes narrow. Quick as anything, he flings two webs over your wrists. You squawk, now glued to the pavement.

“This is illegal!” you screech, twisting your wrists. “Let me go!”

“Stay out of my way,” Miguel says. “I won’t save your ass next time.”

You glare up at him, still breathing hard. It only makes you angrier that Miguel hasn’t broken a sweat.

“I hope those bots tear up the Spider Society!” you say. “I hope—I hope your suit malfunctions and the whole city sees your ass.”

Miguel pauses, and turns around. 

“Uh, Miguel?” Lyla asks. “The murder robots? Kinda urgent.”

“Tell Jess to go downtown and cut them off there.”

“But—” 

“Ve.”

He stands over you. You fling your legs up, trying to get a kick in, but he quickly puts a stop to that, resting a heavy foot on both of your ankles. 

Miguel bends down. You burn with curiosity about how he looks under the mask. It’s twisted of you to wonder, considering what an arrogant jerk he is. You could fill several encyclopedias with Miguel O’Hara’s worst traits. 

Still, you wonder. You wonder what color his eyes are. If his hair is short or long. If he smiles at all. His expression when you get under his skin.

You’d learned his real name by accident. Whether he knows your identity or not, you don’t know. You wonder if he has to stop himself from saying your name.

“You’re lucky I don’t web that dirty mouth of yours,” Miguel says, his face inches from yours. “I’ve been considering it.”

You lift your chin.

“You think about my mouth a lot, O’Hara?”

He jerks back, like you’ve startled him. He stands, turning around.

“Don’t let me see you out here again,” he says.

“Wait!” you cry. “What about the webs?!”

Miguel shoots a web towards the street.

“What about them? You don’t need my help, remember?”

Then he’s gone. 

Fucking Spider-Man.

[crackedpumpkin]

Cole with a girlfriend who has a passion for singing and dancing. She has a beautiful voice mixed with natural talent for dancing.

One day while they’re both slow dancing as a cute way of showing affection to one another, Cole’s father sees and gets emotional cause it reminds him of himself and Lilly when they were Cole and Y/n’s ages.

|| ꜱʟᴏᴡ ᴅᴀɴᴄᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴏꜰᴛ ᴛᴜɴᴇꜱ || ᴄᴏʟᴇ ʙʀᴏᴏᴋꜱᴛᴏɴᴇ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ||

Hello lovely! I hope you enjoy this, he's such an adorable bean :")

“Cole,” You laugh, setting down the dishes you were drying after he cracks an inside joke. You shake your head with a playful roll of your eyes and a chuckle, and he nudges you, clearly pleased with your reaction.

Soft tunes play from the speaker you had set up for your at-home dinner date. Much to your surprise, Cole had cooked and even lit up some candles around the dining table.

You and he had made small talk, and you were touched by how sweet he was being. You didn’t know he had such a romantic side, but you liked it.

He was always busy with patrol and saving Ninjago City, which meant many a time when he was off on missions, and helping civilians. Oh, and of course, saving the world. You promised yourself to not be too clingy, but it was hard when your dates were constantly interrupted.

Especially when he had to go save the world. You would wait every night at your window, a promise you had made to each other that he’d stop by your place first as soon as he returned.

The constant gnawing worry of whether or not he was safe haunted you every night he was gone, but Nya had relieved your concerns by providing a radio set to a specific channel just for the both of you.

He was sweet; he really was. But physical distance definitely played a part in the loneliness that fills your chest, particularly on cold nights when you longed for his presence.

So imagine your surprise when he texted you to come over in your comfiest clothes, and you enter his home only to be left breathless by the romantic atmosphere he had set up just for you.

Candles line the hallway, leading a rose-scattered path to the dining room, where the lights are turned down low. There your boyfriend sits, dressed in a collared shirt (ironed, no less). You gasp in delight at the dining table, your favourite food plated prettily opposite him.

You glance down at the jeans you’re wearing, feeling embarrassed that you had dressed down. He had said to wear something comfy, after all. You walk over, and he stands up from his seat, moving to give you a sweet kiss.

“Hey,” Cole breathes out, gentle hands on your waist.

“This is amazing, Cole. I feel underdressed, though,” You gesture to your clothes, insanely impressed by everything he had set up.

“I’m glad you like it,” He pulls out your chair for you to sit, “and for the record, you look just as beautiful as the day we met.”

You share a chuckle at the memory, fondness in his eyes as he recalls how he had accidentally stumbled into your rehearsal room. You weren’t very composed at the time, stuck in figuring out lyrics for your next song.

You had glanced up, defeat displayed all over your face before surprise flickered in your eyes, surprised by the sudden presence. Cole had then asked you what was wrong, and since you weren’t feeling the most motivated, you grumpily told him about your songwriting struggles.

He had stayed and brainstormed with you, even choreographing a short dance together with you. It was the most fun you had in a while, and thus exchanged numbers. He’d show up for all your gigs, and you, in turn, would be his rock, keeping him grounded and a safe space for him to confide.

You had since grown close, soft and tender smiles exchanged when you were performing on stage, be it a self-choreographed dance or singing your heart out.

And now, you’re in the kitchen with him after the romantic candlelit dinner, doing the dishes together. It’s usually a tedious chore, but it suddenly became the exact opposite with Cole around.

“Heads up,” Cole calls out before tossing a cluster of bubbles at you. You squeal in response, swatting it away and back at him.

“Cole!”

“Hey, I said heads up,” He shrugs with a cheeky grin. You lightly punch his shoulder with a playful glint in your eyes. You recognize the next song playing through the speakers, nudging Cole to get his attention.

He hums in response with a quirked brow, looking at you questioningly. “Remember this one?” You ask.

“Of course, it’s the one we danced to during our first date.” He grins, quickly rinsing his hands and drying them.

“Remember when I asked you for a dance?” He takes your hands in his, holding them up and placing a soft peck on the back of your hand. You smirk, fighting back the blush that threatens to coat your cheeks.

“Of course, though, I vaguely remember it being more of a waltz.” You point out.

“As if I’d forget,” He scoffs teasingly, pulling you close and resting his head on top of yours as he gently rocks your body side to side in a small sway. You nuzzle your face into his shirt, breathing him in and relishing the moment.

God, this cologne smells so good on him, you realize, humming along to the music. You can sense his smile as he hums along with you, enjoying your melodious voice.

He draws back briefly to twirl you out, and you oblige with a pleased smile.

“Zane was the one that made dinner,” He confesses as he moves to dip you. Your eyes shine with amusement, tilting your head.

“I know,” You admit with a smile, and his brows raise in surprise before pulling you back into his arms.

“Oh?” He murmurs, a tinge of curiosity in his words at how you had found out.

You nod, “I figured it out during dessert,” You tilt your head with a sweet smile gracing your lips, pressing a short kiss against the corner of his mouth.

You’re briefly interrupted when you hear someone else enter the kitchen, separating from Cole, suddenly shy. He grasps your hand before you let it fall to your side, holding it firmly in his.

“Hey, pop,” He greets his dad, who has a sheepish grin on his face.

“Hi Lou,” You say with an underlying tone of embarrassment, bashful at being seen with his son in such an intimate position.

“Hey, Y/n, sorry for interrupting you both. I just came out to get a cup of water, but I couldn’t help but be entranced by your voice! It’s absolutely lovely.” He praises you, and you feel the heat rise to your cheeks as you thank him.

“Good job, son.” He gestures to the candles with a smile, and you can feel Cole stiffen from beside you. You can practically feel him holding in an embarrassed groan.

“It reminds me of when I was your age, you know. When I first met Lilly,” Lou reminisces, leaning against the counter.

“Oh?” Cole’s interest is piqued, and so is yours.

“We often danced on the terrace, a place special to us. And to me even now. When she passed….” Lou looks back down, sadness clouding his eyes. He masks it with a smile, setting down his now empty cup and walking out of the kitchen.

“I hope you youngsters have fun! Don’t stay up too late,” He calls out as he exits, Cole draping his arm around you and pulling you close.

“You know, if it’s anything I’ve learned,” He watches his dad round the corner, the soft click of the door shutting, “it’s that I’m lucky to call you mine.”

You let out a small awww, reaching up and pressing your lips on his in a short but loving kiss. “And I’m lucky to have such an amazing boyfriend.” You confess with a goofy smile.

He resumes the slow waltz from earlier, the two of you dancing into the rest of the night in each other’s embrace.

[bg-brainrot]

Hugs for a Vampire (Astarion x GN!Reader) - Chapter 16: Before the End

Chapter 16: Before the End

Each chapter can be read as a standalone hug.

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Rogue!Tav)

Genre: Fluffy, Filling in Canon

Rating: Teen

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Act 3, post-cazador, planning fluff

WC: 2.3k words, 16/18 chapters

Summary: Set right before the end, Rogue!Tav and Astarion discuss their future. Rogue!Tav is determined to not make Astarion's decision for him.

Ao3 | [Hug15][Hug17] | Hugs for a Vampire Masterlist

It’s almost over. You can tell by the way that your companions listlessly sway whenever you’re not actively doing something to either cause someone bodily harm or save someone from bodily harm. Part of the unease comes from the fact that you may all die any day now, but a not-insignificant part is not knowing where you all will be after all of this.

Despite being forced together through danger, fear, tears– gods were there tears– you’ve all grown incredibly close. You’re getting to the point where you fondly think back on even some of your worst moments, remembering the way that Karlach had made a funny face or Lae’zel had made a comment that threw all of you off for a moment. In spite of (or perhaps because of) all of their flaws and quirks, you’ve come to love each of them in turn. And, of course, there is Astarion, for whom you have an even deeper affection for. Whatever happens in the coming days, that’s something that will stay, rooted to the deepest parts of you.

This love you have for them is all you’ve been able to think about recently. Which is why, as their leader, you decide to make sure that the time you have left together is worth it, that you all leave knowing the impact you’ve had on each others’ lives. So lately every night at the Elfsong has been veritable feast after veritable feast.

You have enough gold to comfortably order food and drinks for all, and it’s no Alfira but you heartily tip the Elfsong for its lively music. If you're lucky, you even get visitors from The Guild, Ramazith's Tower, or the rest of your tiefling allies to join in the festivities.

Tonight is one such lucky night, and the Elfsong is bursting at the seams with familiar faces and raucous laughter. Dammon is deep in conversation with Wyll, discussing a rare weapon you’d recently pocketed from a Bhaalist. Lakrissa and Alfira roll their heads back in gleeful giggles at a dirty joke Karlach delivered. Rolan is smiling despite the very colorful argument he’s having with Gale about schools of magic. Several members of The Guild seem to have completely changed their tune about the Stone Lord as Minsc and Boo regale tales of his adventures. You look on with a pleased smile and a cup of sweet honeyed mead.

The room is full of mirth, music drifts throughout the inn’s wooden walls— the atmosphere is without a doubt impeccable. So you do your best to be present, to act the leader you’ve been up to this point. But, despite the camaraderie in the air, you feel incredibly stifled. 

Normally, you would recuse yourself, inform them of your whereabouts in case of some unseen danger lurking in the shadows. But you’re certain that, short of the Absolute showing up on your doorstep, you’ve eliminated all major threats within a five block radius. So you slip away unseen. You don’t want to be the reason why anyone’s revelry is cut short or loses an ounce of its joy.

Satisfied that everyone is occupied, even your silver-haired lover, you slip up the stairs. It’s dark, but you’re able to navigate past your shared lodgings, up the stairs to the roof, where you’d first met Alfira when you entered the city. It is a lovely spot, perhaps somewhere you’d have liked to have a picnic with a certain vampire.

Not that we will be able to, after we eliminate that evil brain, you think to yourself. 

Enough of that, you chide yourself. You should be so lucky to enjoy as many picnics as you’d like, in or out of the sun, with Astarion. 

You nod to yourself, knowing that there are more pressing matters than picnics. Such as what will happen to you all if you don’t succeed? What if you actually do succeed? How long does Karlach have left? Will Lae’zel be able to stand against Vlaakith? You’ve saved Duke Ravengard, but where does that leave Wyll? Despite your repeated warnings, will that damned wizard go for the crown? 

Question after question comes to your mind, each one vying for your attention more urgently than the last. After what feels like hours of haranguing yourself and doubting every decision you’ve made thus far, you’re left with one final question: Where will I be in a week?

Realistically, you haven’t been gone that long. So when you hear a rustling behind you, you know you haven’t been able to reign in your emotions quite yet.

“Darling?” You turn to see Astarion climbing up and onto the roof, the latch to the Elfsong closing softly behind him. Of course he found you. His voice is questioning at first, but, seeing the grim set of your face, he hurries forward in concern. “Is something wrong?”

You shake your head, as if you could shake the doubt you feel along with it. “Nothing’s wrong.”

He, of course, doesn’t believe your dismissal. “The wrinkles in your forehead say otherwise, dear.”

“How dare you,” you say, releasing the scrunch of your face. “I do not have forehead wrinkles.”

A flash of fangs shine in the moonlight as Astarion laughs. “I swear it’s not a mockery. I rather like the lines of your face. If only they weren’t caused by realm annihilating horrors.” 

“Thanks,” you state dryly. “And I’m sure we’ll find plenty more worries once this Elder Brain is dealt with.”

“I expect no less.” He steps forward, closing the distance between you in a few gliding strides. He stops a hare's breath away, looking at you directly in the eyes. “Now, if nothing’s wrong, will you at least tell me what’s on your mind?”

You consider this for a moment. It’s hard to pinpoint a singular thing that plagues you right now, and you’re reluctant to add to Astarion’s worries. Besides, most of your worries are likely already on his mind to some degree. So you opt for something that’s been lurking in the back of your thoughts in these last weeks in the city, ever since you defeated Cazador–  A conversation you’d like to have prior to defeating the evil plaguing the city, and one that you need Astarion for. “You, for starters.”

“Me?” Astarion seems cautious, sensing that it isn’t just ‘how much I love my vampiric lover’ on your mind. “Did I do something wrong?”

Shaking your head vigorously, you hold up your hands in shock, “Oh gods no, it’s nothing like that.” He seems to calm after that reaction, so you continue. “More like, now that you’re free to live your life, where will you go... Where does that leave me… That kind of thing.” 

It seems you've surprised your lover into a rare silence. You're somewhat taken aback yourself, as if saying the words aloud has given them physical form and now it's up to the two of you to fell this beast together.

When he finally speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper, "Where would you like to be?"

"By your side, naturally." You've said as much before, but like you are wont to do with Astarion, you’d rather reassure and remind him every chance you have. Also, as the end draws near, you don’t want to presume– he has two centuries of life to catch up on, who’s to say he’d like to be tethered to a random Baldurian rogue.

"Naturally," he says, a sigh of relief carrying the word forward. 

"Unless you'd rather I find some other snarky vampire to fawn over?" You say, a teasing smile playing on your lips.

"While I know vampires are in no short supply currently, I can't say that any of them have my charms or wits." He flips a lock of hair back, as if to give you a better view of his wits on display.

You click your tongue disapprovingly, before brushing his hair back into place. "I don't know, dear. I heard some of Petras' seduction…" Trailing off to let him extrapolate, you are rewarded by an immediate eye roll. Astarion knows you too well at this point.

"By all means, run off to Petras," he taunts with a smirk, placing his hands on your hips and pulling you toward him. "I'd love to see if he'd survive a night with you."

You laugh, and place your arms around his waist. "So the answer to my question is yes?" Your voice remains lighthearted but the question still lingers in the air and you'd rather discuss it, even if you were the one who started the teasing. Would you rather I leave you be after this?

His face grows serious under your prying eyes. And he slowly, deliberately shakes his head in a silent No. Then, clearing his throat, he follows it with, "You said I was stuck with you. I suppose I should be grateful for such a penance and accept it with grace."

The answer is dramatic, it's pompous and loving in a roundabout way. In short, it's very Astarion. It brings a smile to your face and brings you to your next question. "Good, now that that's settled. Where should we go?" 

In past musings, Astarion has mentioned places that might make sense, including the Under Dark, the Undercity, perhaps just adopting a very nocturnal lifestyle and settling in Baldur’s Gate. You haven’t had a strong preference and are eager to see your love exercise his freedom in any way he wishes. Plus, after all of the leading you’ve been subjected to, you rather like the idea of Astarion forging the path forward.

He looks into your eyes now, his red eyes brimming with uncertainty at making a major decision for himself for the first time in 200 years. “Wouldn’t you like a say in this?”

You shake your head, not breaking eye contact with him. “Whatever your choice, I’m sure it will suit me just fine.”

Astarion stills, silently staring into your eyes for some time. All the while, you stroke calming circles on his back, soothing your own stormy thoughts with each repeated motion. You wait patiently for him to consider his options as if you have all of the time in the world. Even if you didn’t, you know you’d find a way to stop time for him somehow.

When he finally speaks after a few minutes, you jolt a bit at the sudden noise. “I would like to start in the Under Dark, I think. Make sure that the spawn are settling in properly.”

You beam at him, pride swelling in your heart. “Fantastic idea, love. I should think they need someone with more experience to help them figure it all out.”

He nods, drinking in your expression, your compliment like a man who’s gone without for far too long. “Yes, it is a brilliant idea.” He smiles, and, like always, his toothy grin never fails to make your heart flutter. “Though, my brilliance doesn’t stop there.”

“Oh? Pray tell.”

“I was thinking,” he starts, cupping your face with a cold hand. “What do you say to… staying in touch with everyone? Assuming we don’t all die, of course.”

“Of course,” you repeat, knowing that this entire conversation is under that assumption. You have a questioning look in your eye when you continue, “What are you saying, Astarion? Are you saying that you might miss Gale?”

If Astarion had just fed, you’re certain he’d be blushing right now. As it is, he just grips your face tightly and with deeply furrowed brows replies, “I am not saying that. He can turn Illithid for all I care.” Despite his posturing, you know he cares about your companions. It took him quite a while, especially with the aforementioned wizard, but you could tell by the way his banter lost its edge, the way he checked on them after a tough fight, and shared even the best items that you stole.

Regardless, you sense that that wasn’t the point of his brilliant idea. “Alright then, what are you saying?”

He releases some of his hold on you, placing the hand on your neck now. You lean into it as he says, “I’m saying that I know how much you– ugh– worry about them. Though why exactly is beyond me–”

“Astarion.”

“Right. Well, sunlight permitting, perhaps you would enjoy visiting them? Besides, they’re incredibly powerful allies, who are we to deny those connections.” He scoffs, tilts his head nonchalantly, makes light of it, but the truth of it isn’t hard to see. Of course, he’ll miss them despite himself, but this is for you above all else. 

“Love,” you say, a warm smile lighting up your face. “That is a phenomenal idea.”

“Only the best for my sweet.” His responding smile is genuine, loving, utterly unguarded. It prompts you to be honest again.

“I know this entire situation is… well, shit. But, despite it all, I feel oddly lucky.” You smirk at him, but your eyes stay soft. “Because, even if the world crumbles around us, I found you.”

The adoration in your eyes proves too much for him to bear. He pulls your face in for a kiss, his lips devouring yours in a hungry frenzy, as if he’s been without for years not mere hours. You respond in kind, your own desperation matching his. If this could be your last kiss, your last night together, you don’t want to leave this plane of existence with any regrets.

Astarion’s hand drifts into your hair, angling your face for a deeper kiss, his other pulling your hips as flush to him as he can manage. You feel that same need, to just be closer, impossibly close. So your arms hold him firmly, drawing him as close as you can, wishing beyond reason that this embrace, this kiss, this love would never end. 

You kiss each other senselessly, desperate to get lost in each other before this all ends. You stand next to each other on the precipice to the end of the world, but in his arms, the chaos is quiet.

[mia-tiny]

『 Jongho & Shower Sex 』 | KTB ‘22

⇒ pairing: c. jongho x fem!reader

⇒ smut, shower sex, oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex (big no no), cumming inside

⇒ word count: 1.2k

💕 view my masterlist here

🖤 view my Kinktober ‘22 masterlist here

⇒ author’s note: damn this is the last post for kinktober already but stay tuned because i have more juicy fics coming up (including a few continuations of kinktober drabbles)~ thank you to everyone who has supported and/or discovered my writing this month and have a happy Halloween!

You sigh in contentment as you stand directly under the burning hot downpour of water, steam quickly filling the room and fogging the shower doors. There is nothing that beats a soothing shower after a long day at work to wash all of your troubles down the drain. And after getting refreshed, you are always able to spend the rest of the evening in a more relaxed state of mind. 

You turn to face the shower head, letting the heat now cascade down your front as well so that every part of you is toasty. You are so absorbed in the tranquility of it that you don’t even hear your husband enter the bathroom.

Noticing your obliviousness, Jongho lets his eyes explore your body as it glistens under the lighting you left dimmed for “atmosphere.” You look so incredibly sexy without even knowing it, your hands caressing your own body without a care in the world. Just from watching you –and perhaps letting his imagination wander some indecent places–, Jongho’s pants are quickly becoming too restrictive in a certain area. Unable to resist your unintended temptation, he silently strips himself of his clothing and sneaks closer to the shower, your eyes closed as you revel in the feeling of the water flowing over your form.

You are very abruptly jolted back into reality, however, when you hear the shower door opening and let out a quick scream from just how startled you are. The loud noise scares Jongho as well and he flinches.

“It’s just me,” he assures as your heartbeat starts returning to a normal pace.

“Fuck’s sake, Jongho. You scared me half to death,” you scold despite the fact that you can’t help laughing.

“Sorry, baby,” he coos as he finally waddles in to join you.

It is times like these that you are so glad to have the fancy ass shower that convinced you to spring for this apartment. Besides being extremely roomy, it also has a built-in tile bench and a rainfall shower head, which is why you wish you could spend all of your time in here.

Jongho tightly hugs you from behind and you immediately notice why he decided to join you when his erection pokes against your ass. You turn around to face him and wrap your arms around his neck to plant a loving kiss on his lips. He always gazes down at you as if you hold the universe in your hands, which constantly has your stomach erupting in butterflies over this beautiful man.

“Did you have a good day, babe?” you ask as you grip his cock and slowly begin stroking him.

“It was fine, but I know how it could get better,” he jokes before pulling you back in to passionately crash his lips against yours, his hips instinctively leaning into your touch.

His kisses trail downwards along your jawline, across your tits, and down your stomach until he is kneeling with his face in front of your pussy. He licks his lips hungrily before hiking one of your legs over his shoulder, your hand grabbing the railing to keep balanced.

He dives straight into your sex, lapping at your clit as you grip his hair and give it a slight tug to spur him on. He moans into your folds and lets you grind yourself against his tongue haphazardly. He then sucks your sensitive bud between his lips before flicking over it, the sensation causing you to throw your head back with your eyes fluttering closed.

“That’s feels so fucking good.”

He hums against you and devours you even more energetically in response to your praise. The heat of the shower combined with the burning lust running through your veins has your skin tingling with pleasure.

Below you, Jongho makes a mess of your cunt, not at all minding the vulgar sounds that ricochet off the bathroom walls and create a beautiful melody in combination with your moans. Even if he is a singer, he can’t deny that this is the best music to his ears.

“Jongho, please,” you whimper as your desire for him becomes too much to bear. “Please fuck me.”

He sucks your clit past his lips once more before letting go with a pop and standing to capture you in a kiss. He uses his grip on your waist to lead you over to the bench where he sits, pulling you down to straddle his lap.

You reach down and line his length up with your hole before slowly sinking down, your mind fogging up from how good the stretch feels. Once you fit the entirety inside, he leans in to lick and suck on your nipples impatiently. You then grind your hips against his and he pulls back to watch your concentrated face. He thinks you look perfect like this: how your body glistens from the moisture, the way you bite your lip as you deftly move against him, the lust-fueled flame that burns in your eyes.

It is all so… you. And that is what makes it perfect.

Jongho uses his firm grip on your waist to guide you into bouncing on him, the pleasure increasing tenfold as he now prods at your g-spot. You rest your hands on his shoulders for leverage and pick up your pace as much as your legs will allow, your husband’s strength helping slam you down on his cock repeatedly.

“Yes, baby,” he encourages between the loud slapping sounds echoing off the walls. “Holy fuck.”

Although the feeling of riding him is euphoric, your muscles quickly grow tired and you know you’ll need a faster pace in order to climax.

“Jongho,” you whine pitifully. “I need you to help me.”

He knows exactly what you mean and pecks your lips with a loving grin. “I got you, baby.”

He plants his feet flat on the ground and holds you in place as he begins pounding his cock up into you. You gasp at the intensity of the pleasure, your fingernails subconsciously digging into his shoulders enough to leave marks. He hisses at the sting, but actually loves the marks you leave on him since it reaffirms just how good he can make you feel.

Feeling the increasing tension in your core, you reach down and rub at your clit to push yourself closer to release. Jongho’s quickening pants suggest that he is close as well, the clenching of your tight walls surely making it that much harder for him to hold off.

He exerts one last burst of energy to really hammer into you and it is enough to have spots dancing in your vision as your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave. With a few more thrusts into your snug walls, Jongho is also moaning in bliss as he cums deep in your pussy. You passionately press your lips against his as you both ride out the aftershocks of your climaxes, his dick still buried in you as you both calm your racing hearts. You pull away from the kiss, still resting your forehead against his, and just gaze at his loving expression.

You know what? Maybe there is something better than just a hot shower after a long day at work after all.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Taglist: @minkysmilk @annaflwrs @han8ul @whatudowhennooneseesyou @aishidaishi

[existentialmagazine]

Review: The alternative-rock duo ghost prom explore the nuances of grief throughout their new, powerfully raw single ‘Gramma’

The husband and wife duo Cameron and Eden, better known as ghost prom, have been slowly but surely taking off since entering the music scene in 2021. Since sharing with us a glowing EP and a handful of singles, this magical pairing are back with yet another hard-hitting tune to add to your roster: ‘Gramma.’

The staple atmospheric energy of ghost prom’s sound rings through right from the opening of ‘Gramma’, sonically shifting through more gritty and scratchy electric guitar strums and steady dominant drums with an alternative-rock intensity that’s almost rather unexpected. An air of intimacy seeps through in their conjoined solitude though, along with the vastness they add to the sound, reverberating around like their isolated noises were played to an empty room. But this harshness smothers the sound too, almost like the pages of a personal diary have been left tattered and scorched around the edges, a corruption to the sincerity and an abrupt end to the tranquil escape. As the verse opens up, ghost prom settle into more of a soft sound led by more bright but still lightly industrial feeling electric guitar strums and intermittent beats. Cameron’s vocals add a somber and emotional touch to this downbeat sound, soon complemented by Eden’s haunting backing vocals that add a real profound impact to the choruses’ floating ethereality and angelic flow. Continuing to grow, the song progressively grieves through its building in instruments throughout, elevating choruses to more instrumentally dominant heights and intense volumes to match. If grunge, alternative-rock and a more intimate acoustic-esque song were to entwine in a way you’d never expect to work quite so magically, it would be the mesmerising journey of ‘Gramma.’

As they touch on the devastating knowledge of knowing someone you cherish is nearing their final days, ‘Gramma’ is an aching ode to a Grandma suffering in her final days. From the perspective of her grandson, the lyrics painfully yearn to give her a sense of peace for her last days on earth: ‘just smile and give her the best day.’ A complete selflessness washes over their every word, cramming down their own grief for the sake of their Grandma’s happiness, never once wanting her to fear what is to come or feel her body shutting down more intensely. There are snippets like ‘oh grandma, won’t you stay’ that almost seem to plead for more time, never revealing this desperation to her but instead targeted towards the universe and its unrelenting passing of time and mortality. Lines like ‘her eyes lit up’ remind of the importance to be the stability she needs though, a constant of support and happiness amidst the unknown. Though a sudden passing and a slow drawn-out death are both traumatic to endure and incomparable in the devastation they both cause, ‘Gramma’ in many ways relishes in being able to share those final moments together while still mourning her before she’s even gone. Wrapping up the heart-wrenching narrative with the eventual closure of her passing, ghost prom sing ‘she’s finally left this place’, delivering the song that is ‘Gramma’ almost as a commemoration of her life and the beauty she brought to the world. Though everyone’s lives journey different paths and experiences, death is perhaps one of the only guarantees we’re ever all able to universally share, and for that reason it’s without a doubt ‘Gramma’ will linger with you for a long time to come - always reminding you to appreciate the time you have, and those you may not see again.

Check out ‘Gramma’ for yourself here to find yourself gliding through the swaying ease of sound and heartbreaking remembrance surely to connect with your own losses in life.

Written by: Tatiana Whybrow

Photo Credits: Unknown

// This coverage was supported and created via Musosoup, #SustainableCurator.

[sundove88]

BWW OCs Semi Corrupted Forms Part 11: Clarissa Swan

*After a long day of practice, the Timeville Ballet Troupe has decided to head home for the night, and as the troupe leaves the theater to go home, one heads towards the coffee shop: Clarissa Swan, the prima ballerina, who is looking forward to receiving a well earned mocha*

Clarissa: Man, practice went well today. Can’t wait to dance in The Nutcracker in two months! You excited, Cygnus? *Princess Cygfried is waddling behind, catching up with her master*

Princess Cygfried: Oh yes, Dancer Sister! The Nutcracker is such a holiday classic. Especially during Christmas time. What’s it about? *Flaps her way over to Clarissa*

Clarissa: Well, it’s about a young girl named Clara who discovers the magic of Christmas through a very special wooden doll named a Nutcracker. *Shows a poster to Cygfried* See?

Princess Cygfried: Oh my gosh Dancer Sis, that looks super festive or something like that! Oh! There’s the coffee shop. *Points to the coffee shop in front of them, and the two ladies head in*

Barista: Ah, Clarissa Swan! How’s Timeville’s Prima Ballerina doing at this time? *Is making a delicious coffee*

Clarissa: I’m doing just fine. I’ll take a mocha latte with cinnamon sugar. And one sugar cookie with frosting. *Gives the barista her money*

Barista: Will do! *Rushes and gets the mocha latte and the cookie* Here ya go, Miss! Have fun tonight! *Hands over the treats*

Clarissa: Thank you very much! *Heads outside, but little does the prima ballerina know, she is about to go through some feathered changes…* Ahh. Nothing like a good cup of mocha to end the evening on-HONK! D-Did I just say that?! I never sound like a goose!

Princess Cygfried: Dancer Sis, I have something crazy to tell you: You are going through your Semi Corruption Transformation! *Notices Clarissa growing white swan feathers on her body*

Clarissa: I-Is it like Odette’s transformation from human to swan? *Feels all her feathers come in, whilst her eyes change from chestnut brown to an obnoxiously bright blue*

Princess Cygfried: Well, it begins on the nights of Scorpio, which run from late October to the middle of November. *Clarissa gains a hat, which looks somewhat like Cygfried’s, and it has a tiara on the rim*

Clarissa: My feet! Are they really a pale blue?! *Looks at her feet, which look like those of a waterfowl, only thing is that they’re ice blue* Oh my, you’re right!

*Clarissa then notices that her dress now looks something like that of Marionette Madame, but with all the hues of purple, pink, blue, and some dark shades of teal thrown in. Finally, as her arms become her “wings”, she lets out a honk that sounds like a Trumpeter swan*

Princess Cygfried: Congrats, Dancer Sis! Your Semi Corruption is 100 percent complete! *Applauds with wings*

Clarissa: I-I can’t believe it- I look almost identical to you! *Stares at herself in the waters of Lake Zircon*

Princess Cygfried: That’s the whole point of this transformation! Also- a huge benefit is that even though you transform halfway into me, our minds don’t even fuse! And don’t forget- you change back when the sun rises, not the other way around like in Swan Lake.

Clarissa: Thank goodness for that. *Flies up into the air* So, wanna go for a flight around the city? We’ll get back to my house before the Dawn breaks.

Princess Cygfried: Oh heck yes! I never shy away from new experiences. *Flies next to Clarissa, and the two swan girls soar into the night sky*

*End Scene*

[the-witches-you-couldnt-burn]

Like I did with you

So I’ve been procrastinating hard during my study break for my exams, but here have a song fic!

Ghost of you by 5SOS

Genius comments: The song tells the tale of a heartbroken lover who has lost his significant other – due to a breakup or even suicide/death – and is refusing to accept the fact that she is never coming back.

I didn’t feel like writing angst and whenever I hear this song I feel like ballroom dancing (and I have).

Also thank you to the lovely people on the Maribat discord server!

Ao3

The sequel ‘It started with a whisper’ is up!

————————

Gotham Academy implemented a new ‘Study Abroad’ program due to recent funding from a local humanitarian. This program gave the students of Gotham Academy a chance to study abroad in Europe and vice versa. Countries like Sweden, Greece, Germany, Ireland and more participated in the program; offering a multitude of high schools with many different courses.

And because of that very wealthy benefactor, his son got first pick on where he would like to study. This was 100% not a forced decision at all to subtly keep track of the happenings of Paris. With that the Ice Prince of Gotham took the City of Love by storm.

He had been at Collège Françoise Dupont for the past few months, and it’s been hell. The class he had been placed into was ripping apart at the seams. There were two students that the class gravitated towards; he observed some of the others meeting in secret, without the knowledge of their respective ‘leaders’.

The first student that held the majority of the class’ focus was Lila Rossi. She was a black hole with beady green eyes, who dragged who ever was in her reach to an agonising fate. Damian saw through her deceptions and rejected her flirtations. The students that followed her, ate up whatever lie she spat out. Rossi soon learned that lies about the Wayne family and Gotham wouldn’t fly with him.

“Really? You worked with Monsieur Wayne?” The pink clad girl, Rose, squeaked.

Damian had just walked into class on his second day at the hell hole and already regretted it. He shot a glare towards the large group, “Who ever told you that is severely misinformed. My father has never worked with a minor from Europe, due to potential rumours and allegations it could cause. It is not a threat but a promise if a lie of similar caliber is spread there will be a lawsuit.” And with that he walked towards his seat in the back, the Ice Prince had cast his decree, the class’ atmosphere had frozen over.

The second student was Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Those that surrounded her were Alix Kubdel, Chloé Bourgeois, Max Kanté, Lê Chiến Kim and the occasional secret appearance from Juleka Couffaine. They didn’t view Dupain-Cheng through rose coloured lenses, they were always grounded and opinions were respected. Damian, who was a loner without Jon at his side, was satisfied by himself; Marinette respected that and didn’t force him to socialise like Lila tried to.

So that leads us to this. He stood against a sidewall of the giant banquet hall, staring out at the crowd before him. Jon was walking to wards him with a can of sprite in hand. Jon had moved to Paris with him but had been placed into a different class. The boy who was the epitome of sunshine stuck around the Ice Prince, their friendship is an enigma to the Françoise Dupont students.

Jon’s face was flushed. He had just gotten a drink after dancing for the past hour. Tonight was the night of the Collège’s formal dance for their graduating class. Skirts of all colours and fabrics swirled, as their partners (majority of whom had matching suits) twirled them to the music.

Jon, gesturing to the crowd, asked him whether he was going to stand there all night or dance. Taking a sip of his drink a smirk appears on his face, “unless the great Damian Wayne is to much of a coward to dance.”

Here I am waking up

Still can't sleep on your side

Damian’s head snapped towards the taller boy, “Are you seriously using my ego to get me to dance?”

Jon raising an eyebrow, “Well?”

If I can dream long enough

The temperamental teen stormed off, grumbling about “Jon being as bad as Todd”. Scanning the room he search for a suitable partner, there was no way he would embarrass himself by dancing alone.

You'd tell me I'd be just fine

I'll be just fine

He spotted Dupain-Cheng stood off to the side, alone. She was draped in a layered white dress with black hemming. As he neared, he realised that the asymmetrical skirt was actually a light blush with her signature apple blossom flowers embroidered. She looked up at him and he straightened his stance, slowing his pace. Her sapphire eyes locked on to his, her bangs curled off to the side along with the rest of her hair in beach waves.

So I drown it out like I always do

She gifted him a small smile, a usual occurrence within her interactions with him. He offered his left hand, bowing his head slightly. “Dupain-Che—“ he cleared his throat, “Marinette. Would you do me the honour of joining me in this dance?”

Dancing through our house

With the ghost of you

Her eyes widened, not expecting the Arabian God of a teen before her to ask her such a question. She saw his temper during class during his spats with Lila and how he kept to himself without the presence of Jon. But here he was in a fitted Armani suit that made his green eyes glow, and hair messily slicked to the side. Marinette looked at his hand, glad that her makeup mostly hid her blush.

And I chase it down

“I am...” She paused to find the right word, “I am a bad dancer. It is better for everyone that I don’t participate.”

“I can think of nothing less appealing than an evening of watching other people dance.” A small gasp escaped from her mouth before she could stop it. She watched as his mouth twitch’s downwards before his facade returned with full strength. “If you do not wish, to I won’t force you. But if you’ll allow me I’ll guide you through the dance to make sure it isn’t an utter disaster.”

With a shot of truth

Marinette’s lips quirked, giggling as she took his hand, “Your funeral Damian.”

What had he gotten himself into?

The two entered the dance floor, taking up the dance support hold. Their dance had the basic steps of the waltz, with a promenade and many spins; some as a couple and some were just Mari. Damian soon found he enjoy watching the sparkles in her dress light up as she spun. It became even more enjoyable when he discovered that the dress was her own creation.

Dancing through our house

The two made quiet conversations during their dance. Damian pulled her closer by the waist as they repeated the basic steps, their bodies perfectly in tune with each other. “You are a fine dancer despite your protests”

With the ghost of you

Marinette tilted her head up at him, blinding him with a dazzling smile. Damian’s heart fluttered, the two always had a mutual respect but it seems to have grown into a fond appreciation.

From the tables scattered around the dance floor there was a blond, with his fist clenched. Lila had dragged him off of the floor as soon as Damian and Marinette made their debuts; together. The brunette was now off angrily gossiping to Alya and any other who’d listen. It was a hot topic between Lila and Alya that Marinette loved him, although now, as he watched her dance with Damian, he was unsure as to whether that was ever true. He sat there, glued to his seat, watching the spectacle before him.

Cleaning up today

Found that old Zepplin shirt

The two dancers didn’t notice that everyone had cleared off the floor to watch them. They danced in sync, no movement was made without the other following it. Adrien had realised awhile ago that even though he didn’t have romantic feelings for Marinette, he cherished her friendship. That relationship was now tarnished due to the path he took when he first revealed his knowledge of the deceptions. His father had forced him to keep Lila happy, even if it made him miserable.

You wore when you ran away

And no one could feel your hurt

He had lost her, and he was unsure as to whether he could gain any semblance of their relationship back.

We're too young, too dumb

To know things like love

Damian lifted his partner’s right hand and twirled her three times, they both were content within their own world. The two swayed before turning together and walking around the now open space.

But I know better now (Better now)

Marinette flushed as she realised what was happening around her, leaning towards her partner she whispered, “I think we’ve become an impromptu entertainment.”

Too young, too dumb

To know things like love

Too young, too dumb

Damian subtly gazed behind her seeing their peers in a circle surrounding them. He was on the inside looking out, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world. He whispered reassurances in her ear, he wished to finish the song before he released her from his embrace. The two drowned out their audience, focusing on each other and the beat of the song.

So I drown it out like I always do

Dancing through our house

With the ghost of you

And I chase it down

With a shot of truth

That my feet don't dance

Like they did with you

The melody slowly faded off as the last lines were sung. The two finished on a basic waltz step before swaying in each other’s arms. The music ends and there is silence, blood rushed to their ears and their breaths mingled.

The two stayed in the other’s embrace, face-to-face, staring. They broke out of their trance by clapping. Looking around Marinette saw many of her peers and most of the supervising teachers applauding their performance.

Their friends broke through the crowd, Jon patted Damian’s shoulder (retracting before he got bit) while Chloe and Alix pulled Marinette back to their table to discuss what Disney magic had befallen the couple. The bluenette glanced back at her partner, mouthing a silent goodbye.

The crowd dispersed but were still buzzing from their display. Marinette was bombarded with questions, not only from her friends, but from other students about her dancing with the demon. Her stuttered replies did little to quench the crowd’s thirst. Her face must be comparable to that of a tomato.

Damian, having noticed the building crowd and Marinette’s uncomfortable stance, broke away from Jon. The crowd parted like the red sea, unwilling to be the one to anger the Ice Prince.

He offered her his arm (to which she took) and escorted her out to the patio outside. She stayed entwined with him, as she looked out at the stray Parisian night; leaning her head onto his should. Here the two could breathe. Here the two of them could be their present selves, no ghostly facades needed. It seems they could drown out anything in the presence of each other.

Unbeknownst to them, Jon had recorded their dance, along with their previous and present interactions of that night. He thought for a second to use it as blackmail material but decided to just send it off anyways. Oh the chaos it caused.

[stupidfatpenguin]

“Do you think it’ll work?”

Luke mulls over the question and watches Grogu by the pond where he skilfully stalks an unsuspecting amphibian, only occasionally halting his pursuit to look to where his father and Luke have escaped the heat in the temple shade, observing them with a hunter’s surveying eyes before returning to his prey.

Not for the first time Luke wonders just what kind of predator this species must be, if they have any natural enemies, and if all are so in tune with the Force as Grogu is and Yoda had been.

“It might.”

Din sighs when he hears the answer, even though Luke had given it with optimism. There is a sort of lingering desperation to him lately that he works hard to conceal, but which only serves to further endear him to Luke, like so many things about him do. But even the Jedi is starting to feel his patience wearing thin.

Grogu’s impression that the marks Din left on him in private moments were hurting Luke had been amusing initially, albeit a little embarrassing. He had thought the youngling’s protective impulse sweet, a reflection of his father’s own near self-sacrificing tendencies, but even Luke had failed to predict the extent of which they would be acted on.

follow up to ‘a healing touch’ read more below the cut, or read the rest on ao3 

At first, it was like they had made a game of it: Din’s arsenal of experience and skills as a hunter pitted against Grogu’s stubbornness and control of the Force.

Grogu had quickly realised that the “harm” that befell him happened in the night-time when he could not watch them for any signs of their presumed fighting. Luke had laughed himself stupid when Din had told him about the night in the corridor, when his son had caught him on his way to Luke’s rooms and had consequently begun finding ways to sleep in them to ensure that his father wouldn’t lay hands on him, but the humour had begun to fade when Grogu’s insistence began testing his own restraint.

The other day, the tension built up from their days of unintended abstinence had snapped. They had retorted to hiding away in the hangar once Grogu was put down for a nap, finding each other in greedy moments stolen in Din’s ship and promises given with such fervour Luke could still feel it when he pressed the bruises on his hips that had lingered long after.

The marks had been left with more care, still red and vicious with the evidence of ardour and claim, but below the collar of the tunics and shirts Luke had begun wearing more rigidly—even on the days the heat and humidity was no less than choking.

Of course, even that effort had been in vain when Grogu, the very next day, had climbed Luke’s back to seek his attention, pulled the shirt just so and found the evidence of their rendezvous.

Grogu’s increased vigilance (and the aid of his abilities that he was gaining control over so rapidly Luke had begun to wonder if he drew some sort of motivation from his mislead scheme to “protect” him) had made it even harder to find any sort of respite.

It wasn't that he required the sex—the appeal of the Mandalorian he had invited to his bed went far beyond this after all—but it was, admittedly, nice. To feel wanted, and to feel desired the way he did when Din’s mouth and hands were on his skin, to feel so deeply and overwhelmingly loved the way he did when Din’s eyes stared into his in the aftermath, lax with devotion and bliss.

Now, this silly misunderstanding had made those moments scarce. Standing close was now a cause of scrutiny. A prolonged touch would be cause for distraction or interruption. They couldn’t even attempt to spar—Grogu was quick to pull Din away from him if he ever reached for a weapon. Neither he nor Din could tell how much longer this could go on for.

So he has to try. He will have to try and explain to Grogu that what is between his father and Luke is something good that he doesn’t need protecting from. Something that had over time become something strong and unrelenting, something so bright and infatuating that the only way to describe it with words would be… love.

He glances at Din, tripping nervously beside him, and feels his own love for this man swell in him then. “It might be best if you leave us alone for this. I have a feeling you will be too much of a distraction right now.”

Din looks like he wants to disagree, but his son meets his gaze then with a large, blue frog stuck in sharp teeth, and he thinks that Luke might be right.

“Alright,” he says to Luke. “I’ll be inside if you need me. I should get dinner started.”

He steps close to Luke, as if to kiss him goodbye as he would often do, but now he hesitates, nods instead and goes to do as he has said.

Luke watches him leave and feels an aching bitterness he hasn't really felt before at being denied such a simple thing, and vows then that he must find a way to end this silly misunderstanding—to free Din once more to the whims of his own wants that he had kept locked away so tightly under his beskar, until one day Luke had woken to lips on his shoulder and the helmet had stopped staying on when they were alone, the three of them… or even just the two of them.

He turns to his student and calls out.

“Grogu!”

The child turns to him at once like a magnet to its opposite pole and radiates an admiration and sense of belonging that never fails to make Luke feel like maybe he can be a teacher to this child in spite of all the ways he falls short.

“Come here! I want to ask you something.”

They sit down in the grass as if to meditate, but it is not the depths of the Force they’ll be exploring today.

Luke is suddenly uncertain where to start, wonders just how Grogu comprehends concepts such as family and love beyond his bond to Din… and that really is the key, isn’t it? As if a light clears away the cloudy darkness, it becomes obvious to him that this is one way to go about this.

“Grogu,” he begins, gaining the child’s unwavering attention as he reaches out to him, lets their thoughts and feelings mingle until a clear, unperturbed connection has formed between them.

Master, he senses the thought, laced with anticipation and excitement, but kept calm, as he had likely been taught on Coruscant. Grogu’s mind flashes to a memory that shows that this is indeed true, but before he can tell Luke more of this training Luke sends an impression of Din—of when Luke had first met the two, on the bridge of the Imperial light cruiser to which he had followed Grogu’s call.

“Show me.”

Grogu knows his meaning at once, and his presence fills with feelings and impression, something that had started small and uncertain but had grown and grown, a love so bright and pure and at the centre of it all is Din. The memories flitter by so quickly—some familiar, others are new to him—but in the mass of them is Grogu’s undeniable sentiment. Father. Clan. Safe.

Luke smiles, encouraging. “Yes. That feeling. Remember it well. It is the love that created your bond with him.”

Father. Warm, safe, love. Grogu radiates joy and content, and Luke reflects it, touched deeply by the love between the two, of all they have been through that had brought them together.

“Now,” Luke waits for Grogu to prepare, and then sends an impression of himself. “Show me our bond.”

What happens then is unexpected. It is almost overwhelming. The sense of belonging and gratitude and adoration and awe—and Luke is suddenly beginning to realise that Grogu’s depth of affection towards himself has grown far deeper than he had thought to anticipate.

Love? Grogu suddenly asks, and for a moment Luke is struck silent until it dawns on him that—yes, that is exactly what this is.

“Yes.” He breathes the word between them, but it rings loud and certain over their bond. “This, too… it is not so dissimilar to the way your father loves you.”

Grogu preens with this knowledge, is then a vast sea of impressions of moments between his father and himself, between Grogu and Luke, and they are all filled with such bubbling emotions of warm, safe, happy, love, love, love, that the Force itself seems to hum with them.

Luke stills a laugh that is ready to spill from his chest; he must reign this back onto the path he has set. Focus, little one.

I focus.

Luke marks his approval, and then heeds his own instructions.

“Now. Come search my feelings.”

He bids Grogu come into his own mind, and once he has Luke begins sharing his own impressions of Din up through their time together, careful to filter away any thoughts or feelings that he would not have his young student know, but the aching feelings he holds for Din remains, and his heart is light with them as he lets himself feel them, too, in their purest form.

Grogu, he finds, is focusing carefully, but there is something akin to confusion in him, even as the words in his thoughts appear clear and bright.

Master… love?

“That’s right,” Luke encourages, focusing on the feeling of relief that washes over him whenever Din’s ship enters the atmosphere, chasing away a lingering loneliness he sometimes still struggles to let go of. “What is between your father and I—it is a little different. But this, too, is love.”

The inevitable impression of himself, covered in bruises that seem far larger and more concerning than they do in actuality, flows through their bond.

Father hurt Master Luke.

Luke wonders for a long moment how to possibly go about this.

“He doesn't hurt me,” he says, truthfully. “It’s… it’s how he shows he loves me.”

Confusion continues to flitter through their connection, and Luke decides suddenly what might convey this the best.

He sends an impression of Din leaving. Of his ship breaking the atmosphere and of Grogu watching with his Mudhorn pendant grasped between his hands. Then, he shows an impression of himself, fingers touching the mark on his neck, and sends a pulse of longing and waiting through the bond.

So that I can remember him when he is not here.

The confusion gives way to a a slow dawning of understanding.

Luke wonders at his own resourcefulness.

Grogu retreats fully from his mind, and Luke lets him go, feels like something has changed in him. They sit bathing in the afternoon light, a serene sort of calm between them.

Grogu moves first, gets up and walks slowly over to Luke, who pulls him into his lap when he reaches for him.

“Do you see it now, Grogu?”

The child coos and emits nothing but affirmation, and he begins pulling on the sleeve of Luke’s left arm. Luke humours him, lets him touch and study the skin there… and is too late to stop him when he bites down on his arm with a chomp.

-

tl;dr: Luke explains love and relationships to Grogu. He succeeds--in a way.

[jisungful]

abandoned.

summary :: breaking into an old abandoned elementary school isn’t always the best idea.

pairing :: chenle x gn!reader x jisung (platonic)

genre :: horror/thriller

warnings :: all characters are kind of dumb (first person to die in a horror movie type beat), breaking and entering, implied serial killer!au, murder, blood, descriptions of gore, psychotic actions, character death, all that stuff :D

word count :: 2.4k

a/n :: as I was writing this, I practically scared myself D: also the ending is kinda rushed but oh well

The end of the school year was supposed to be fun, full of surprises, and that one surprise was Chenle clinging onto you like a koala with a tree. Up to this point, you hadn’t thought of how much of an interesting boy he could be--but him giving you physical affection? You could never believe it.

Chenle let go of you before saying, “Come to the library with me and Jisung,” His hair was messy, as well as his uniform shirt. You assumed he just went around hugging other people besides you. He grinned at you, “We’re planning to do something fun as a celebration for the last day of school! Let’s go!” He grabbed your wrist tightly, but not enough to cause circulation loss, at least. You began contemplating whether or not it was a good idea to follow suit of the boy, knowing him. Nonetheless, you were curious.

You both arrived at the library, seeing Jisung already sitting at one of the tables reading a comic. Sitting down in front of the boy, he closed the book once he felt your presences. He greeted with a small smile, you and Chenle doing the same. “Alright listen,” Chenle started, clearing his throat before broadcasting the plan aloud, “We’re going to go to my elementary school—but with a twist.” He grinned before continuing, “It’s been so long since I’ve been there, so it’s abandoned now and I’m pretty sure no one monitors it anymore. Although... it is still intact so we need to break in.”

“Woah, wait, we are not going to break into an elementary school.” you cautioned.

Chenle rolled his eyes and rested his palm on his jawline. “It’s not like it’s haunted or anything. As I said, no one monitors it anymore--you guys just aren’t fun.”

Jisung clasped his hands together before letting out a sigh, “I thought you were joking at first and just wanted to go and play on the playground or something. But seriously?” He shuddered slightly, subconsciously flipping the pages of the comic he was reading earlier. You nodded at him before returning your gaze back on Chenle. All that was written on his face was smugness.

“We have to try it once. Think about it! It’ll be fun, you know? It’s like in movies, we just have to be cautious of our surroundings.” Chenle assured.

You can’t believe you’re doing this. You really can’t. It was 3 fucking am and you decided it was a great idea to go along with Chenle (out of everyone else in the world) and his plan to break into his old elementary school just for fun.

You packed your backpack with a few essential items: a flashlight, a few bottles of water, a baseball bat, and a crowbar. You kept it unzipped at the top so they could all fit, keeping your phone in your spacious hoodie pocket. You put on a mask and a beanie to keep yourself covered in case of security cameras. You put on your backpack, adjusting to the heaviness. If you were being honest, you had this rush of nervousness flowing through your body, the fear of not knowing what will happen to the three of you once you break in and enter the abandoned building. Nonetheless, you head to your front door to walk to Chenle’s house as the three of you decided to go to beforehand. Step by step, your body grew warmer as anxiety rose. It hadn’t hit you that you’d never done this before--you were always the type to stay in and not go out doing reckless activities; but here you are, doing that exact thing.

Immediately as you stepped on Chenle’s rug that was placed in front of the door, it opened, him now in front of you. He moved aside for you to enter the place. “You got everything?” He questioned and you nodded. “Jisung’s not here yet, so I guess we have to just wait.”

You both sat on his leather couch, staring down at the empty mug with thoughts roaming your brain. It wasn’t breaking in that was scaring you--but the thought of getting caught and living with the guilt that you had done something illegal was. Attempting to engage in conversation, you spoke, “How did you even come up with this idea?”

Chenle chuckled lightly, fiddling with the watch on his wrist. “It just came to my head out of nowhere, I guess.”

Hearing the sound of knocking on the door, you stood up abruptly, Chenle following after. You both headed to the front and opened it for Jisung. “You have everything, right? We should go now.” Jisung nodded and let out a breath he was previously unknowingly holding.

You three went inside of Chenle’s car, with Chenle driving and Jisung and you seated at the back. You took off your backpack and placed it on the floor of the car, the weight removed gave you sudden relief on your shoulders. Jisung plugged his phone into the aux cord and played soft, lo-fi music to soothe the nerves that were getting to you unknowingly.

You sighed, laying your head on the headrest of the car seat, looking out the window. It was a rather peaceful night despite what you were going to do in a couple of minutes—stars beginning to deem visible across the vast, dark sky, with only a few cars passing by in which you could count with your fingers. That was when you felt eyes boring into the back of your head, and you turned to see Jisung staring at you. You furrowed your brows and muttered a ‘what’. “I’m nervous, Y/N,” he breathed out, fear clearly laced in his voice.

You bit your lip. “It was Chenle’s idea, we can blame him for all of this.” you joked.

The elementary school definitely does not look as you expected--before coming, you imagined it to be completely abandoned, having growing moss on the walls, windows that were broken or punched, or even having “caution” tape around it. You guess it only happens in movies. But this school looked almost normal, for some reason, with only overgrown trees around it as the leaves fell on it. You let out a soft sigh, relieved that it looks fairly approachable and safe to go into.

“This is crazy, it’s been so long since I’ve been here. Let’s go!” Chenle beamed. You looked at Jisung for a moment, giving him a reassuring smile and a nod before putting on your heavy backpack and exiting the car as he did as well.

The three of you stood outside of the back door of the building, looking around for any suspicious cameras though found none. You pulled your mask up further before checking on Chenle and how he’s putting up with his attempts at opening the door. “I can’t find any key,” he grunted. You offered him the crowbar that was hanging off your backpack, and to your luck, it worked on opening the door. Jisung let out a surprised sound as he stood behind you.

The back door led to the gym in which you stood. It was empty, except for the lone basketball that sat in the middle of the vast room. The lights didn’t work, so you came to the conclusion that it would be best to use your flashlights, instead. You followed Chenle as he was the only person that knew the way around this place. He went toward the door which led to the hallway of the school, which connected to the many classrooms. The atmosphere felt terribly dismal, and it didn’t leave you with a good feeling. You couldn’t help but focus on the smell that hadn’t been freshened up for years.

“This is my 4th-grade classroom,” He slid open the door and across the room were sprawled out desks and chairs--it was like a forest, avoiding all of these objects just to get to the other side was like a journey in itself. In the back of the room were stapled class pictures of old students and teachers on a corkboard. Chenle desperately searched for the photo with him in it, searching across what seemed like around 10+ photographs. “Ah, here’s me!” He said, gesturing for you and Jisung to come to him. He pointed to his 10-year-old self, shining a flashlight on it to show it clearer. “It’s crazy how it’s still here.”

“You were cute,” Jisung commented.

“Are you saying I’m not cute now?” Chenle scoffed jokingly. He removed the photo from the corkboard and shoved it neatly into the small pocket of his backpack, thinking of showing it to his parents later today once he figures out a good enough excuse to where he found it.

You yawn, eyes getting tired minute by minute, second by second as you continue your journey throughout the huge school. You entered room 3B, which seemed like a music room—chairs stacked in 5’s, music sheets laying on the scattered desks, posters of musicians and guitar and piano chords on the walls begging to fall down to the ground as the tape holding it up collects dust. A piano lies near the corner of the room and Chenle sits on the bench that stood in front of it. He plays a mellow tune as you and Jisung look at all of the instruments that were isolated in a metal storage cabinet. You take out a recorder and try to remember the notes of the infamous ‘Hot Cross Buns’—however your memorization skill isn't the best and you end up with random noises. Jisung laughs at your attempt and you laugh back, putting the instrument back to where it was placed. You head towards Chenle, who was heavily concentrated on playing the song that was on the sheet on the music desk. You listen to the pretty sounds until he stops for a moment.

“It sounds beautiful,” you say.

Chenle chuckles before standing up and ruffling his hair, “I know, I’ve been playing practically since birth, you know?”

You both stood there, the moonlight reflecting on your skin through the thin glass. You turn your head, “Where’s Jisung?” You had thought the boy would follow you when you were walking toward Chenle—but he didn’t. There was no third shadow moving alongside yours and the boy beside you; the atmosphere grew cold. You beckoned Chenle to come with you before walking towards the classroom door to once again enter the hallway.

“Jisung! Are you an idiot? Where are you?” Chenle shouted out loud but there was no voice that followed. A curse word was muttered, you begin scrambling out of the music room to find the 5’11 boy that suddenly vanished into thin air. You knew how afraid he was during the car ride here and you never thought you would leave him alone like this. You stuck by Chenle’s side as you searched through most of the classrooms in the building.

No sign.

You were startled as you unlocked the door to the janitor’s closet, shining your flashlight down the stairwell that was somehow built in the tiny room. “Chenle, come here,” you beckoned. He rushed to you quickly; his eyes widened once he saw what was hidden inside the room.

“I’ve never seen this before,” he chuckled, “Maybe Jisung went in here, but for what?” You shrugged at the boy’s assumption, furrowing your brows before stepping in. Jisung was always curious about the world—you might think it’s his first life and he’s fascinated by every small detail that the universe could give him. Though, you would never expect that he would be curious about this particular stairwell.

A horrid smell hit you both once you reached halfway down the staircase. You muttered a curse word, “Fuck. It smells rotten in here,” Chenle agreed, nodding at you. You continued your way down to see Jisung’s body lay flat on the floor like a ragdoll. You took in a sharp breath as you quickened your steps down to see six other bodies lay in front of him. You rapidly shout out the boy’s name as you frantically attempt to shake him awake, wishing in the back of your mind that he hadn’t ended up like the bodies that were obviously sitting beside you.

Jisung groaned, sitting right side up as he held his head. “What happened to you?!” You question, helping him stand up. He looked around the room once more before taking two steps back when he watched the dead bodies lay on the floor.

He shook his head rapidly as his hands held onto your wrist. “I-I just saw that and I don’t know what happened but…” he shut his eyes. “I should’ve stayed with you guys. I’m so so so sorry.” You hear footsteps nearing you, both of your heads turn to the sound.

“Jisung!” You yell out. You froze once you see crimson flow out of his neck. Your eyes follow the holder of the knife’s arm to his face slowly. You stared with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. “Chenle, what the fuck are you doing?!” you breathed out.

Chenle tilted his head back with a slight close-lipped smile, enigmatic. Your eyes filled with tears as you watched Jisung’s blood drip, his arms holding onto what he thought was his best friend. “It’s so fun doing this!” he giggled, eyes crinkling through his smile. He pulled out the knife before quickly stabbing it back inside Jisung’s neck. “Is little Jisung whimpering? I’m just playing with you!” His psychotic laughter soon filled your ears and your breath quickened once you watched as Chenle stabbed him in the stomach laying on top of Jisung, a dark red pours onto the floor steadily. You wanted to look away but your body could do nothing but be full of shock.

Chenle’s head jerked toward your direction. You gulped as he stood up to walk toward you with an innocent smile. Once he cornered your back to the wall, he dragged the knife covered in blood along your jawline. You winced as the sharp blade cut through your delicate skin, you clutched onto nothing making your knuckles turn white. “P-please…” you whisper.

His smile dropped once the knife entered the side of your torso. “Now, you two can be with me forever.”

[fanfiction-corner]

Soulmate Au Oneshot

so I lost this post when I accidentally deleted my last blog so im reposting it here. run down is that someone requested a soulmate au oneshot with Technoblade and this is what I got. hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

Warnings: None

Summery: Soulmate Au fluff in which Technoblade finds his soulmate through a song

pronouns: she/her

wordcount: 1465

The cold tundra whipped icy air into the travellers face, her cloak only providing so much warmth. She couldn’t feel her fingertips anymore, they had lost their feeling a while ago. But now her legs began to ache, her feet growing number with each step into the layered snow. Why did she do this trip? Why did she even consider attempting to cross the snowy land, even after the warnings she was given by the villagers she was staying with. On a never-ending quest to find her own place in this world. 

The numbness was slowly taking over her body, she felt like giving up. But then the humming began. The soft tune of a song entering her mind, it only made her more determined to escape the tundra. The tune her soulmate would think of a lot, a reminder that she had a purpose in the deadly storm of snow. She had someone to live for. Despite never knowing who they were, she knew they were out there.

The soft hum of a tune left her, her throat was dry and screamed in response. But the hum kept her going, her numb legs carrying her till she saw a faint light amidst the snow. Her humming ceased as a relieved cry left her, stumbling as she trudged on towards it. The sight became clearer, closer to reach. But she collapsed before the stairs, barely managing to make much more movement as spots of black framed her vision. Her body was shaking uncontrollably, she was on fire now, no longer numb. Yet she felt herself move against her will before her vision went black, passing out as the feeling of an arm tucked under her legs. 

-

The soft crackling of fire filled the cabin's room, the tired man sat beside the sleeping form of the stranger as he applied bandages to their frostbitten skin. His mind running over why on earth someone was out in the storm, his voices giving him no rest either. Their constant chattering and pushing of ideas giving him a headache at this point. 

Fastening off the last bandage, Techno placed her arm down and tucked it under the layers of blankets he had thrown on her. His feeble attempt to warm them up, making a makeshift bed for them with blankets and a few pillows. Placing them beside the fire as he worked on bandaging her blistered skin, making sure he was as gentle as possible. 

The pink-haired man stood, gathering the first aid and heading to his chests to store the items away within the mess. Picking out some food to cook for the two, having to step over the bundle of a stranger on his way to his furnace. Kneeling to light the flames before he got to work on cooking, keeping an ear out for any noise the stranger would make, he wasn't all too worried for them, more just curiosity on how they made it this far and more so why. 

His strong hands tended to the meal, a familiar tune escaping him in the form of a hum. One that he had grown up with and one that calmed him, it was even one that he could hear his soulmate playing on their mind. A prospect that made him smile, his other half enjoying the same lullaby as he. He had no intent on finding them, Techno didn’t wish to drag them into his mess of a life but he would be a liar if he said he didn’t care for them. Obviously, he did. He had a soft spot for the person he was destined to fall for, the person that shared space in his brain. Either being able to hear whatever tune is on their mind. 

A groan caused the hybrid to stop. The tune getting caught in his throat as he turned his gaze over his shoulder, watching the bundle of cloth move with the stranger. The individual in question sitting up, a hiss of pain escaping them as their body ached in protest, wishing for her to stop. She sat anyway, bleary eyes scanning her warm surrounding in confusion before they met a pair of red ones. 

A soft smile rose on the man’s face, turning back around to tent to the sizzling meal before he spoke:

“Feeling alright?” His monotone voice entered her ears, filling her with a strange warmth that the fire couldn’t ever provide. “You were out for a bit, a few hours maybe. I tended to your injuries the best I could, I suggest you stay wrapped up to keep you warm”

She stayed quiet for a moment, having to process his words through the tired haze that layered over her mind. It did settle, however, her eyesight clearing and turning to inspect the tight bandages on her arms. A feeling of relief filling her as her memories rushed back. Her need to reach the cabin and now finding herself safe was more than enough to let her relax in the stranger’s presence, only one thing left on her mind:

“Who are you?” she rasped, her voice protesting when she spoke. She needed water, desperately. 

The man seemed to pick up on this, momentarily discarding cooking the meal to grab the lady a glass of water, staying silent as he moved around the small cabin room. Handing her the glass after a moment, he nodded and turned back to the task at hand. “Technoblade, and yourself?”

His answer satisfied her, letting her relax completely as she sipped her drink, taking a moment before offering him her own name in return. The man nodded as his only response as the two lapsed into a comfortable silence, the injured girl nursing the water as her gaze turned to the flickering flames she was situated by. 

Techno kept a small smile on his face as he finished the food prep, placing the steaks on two separate plates before he sat down beside the bundle. Placing his plate beside him before offering the other to his guest, the person in question gladly accepting the food and silently digging in. 

The comfortable silence found the two again, enjoying one another’s warming company as the storm raged on outside. A calm hum of a tune gracing her mind once again, a warm smile finding its way to her features as she let the lullaby play in her mind. It was a good combo. Good food, warm atmosphere and the reminder of her love. The tune left her in the form of a gentle hum, her fond smile directed towards the flames. 

The music in her mind translated to enter her ears, a deep voice humming along with her. The man sat beside her mimicking the tune. Techno turned his gaze to his guest, meeting her eye and smiling gently. The two reaching the end of the song and lapsing into silence once again. 

“You know that song?” Techno began, a curious tone playing on his tongue. 

“It’s my soulmate’s favourite. They have it on their mind all the time” She explained, her gaze moving to her plate

“It’s my favourite, I’m always humming it,” The pink-haired man confessed, keeping his gaze trained on the woman in front of him. A warmth finding its way into his chest at the prospect of finding them. But getting his hopes up wouldn’t do him too well. 

“Are you suggesting you’re my other half?” Her accusation made him chuckle, shaking his head as he placed his half-eaten meal beside him. 

“We could find a way to test the theory.” His words made her look to him, an eyebrow raised. A nod soon encouraged him to continue. “I could think of a song and you hum it, if you're correct we have our answer. If not, oh well.” 

She thought over the proposition, running it through her mind before giving him a small nod. Moving to place her plate beside his and shuffling in her blankets to get more comfortable, a calm expression as she told him to begin. Waiting patiently as she eyed his expression, seeing him try to rack his brain on a new tune to think of. 

Eventually, it began, a more upbeat tune compared to the lullaby the two had just shared. It caused a grin to spread on her face as she hummed along, her head and shoulders moving to the beat. A soft giggle escaping them before looking to Techno once more, his expression explaining it all. 

“I like that song too,” She spoke, her grin turning to a fond smile that he soon returned. The crackling fireplace becoming the new tune to listen too, comfortable silence finding them yet again as they gazed at one another. 

They had found each other. 

[bill-y]

INURE

Peeta Mellark x male reader

[ We all know who Katniss Everdeen is, but what if Primrose hadn’t been chosen but another boy from another unfortunate family? YOUR family. ]

Info: This is basically a reader insert and I’ve changed a few rules, not ground breaking though. The reader is a bit bland for now but I plan for his actions to be different. Because he has different moral grounds from Katniss and such. Would appreciate feedback! FEEL FREE TO POINT OUT TYPOS. GRAMMARLY SOMETIMES DOESN’T DO MY DYSLEXIC ASS JUSTICE

Part five: Click here, butters, elpacho, last meheecan.

Part six: You're here, dumb!

Part seven: Finally here!

Wattpad account: L0calxDumbass

Peeta and I end up helping Haymitch to his compartment, the reek of vomit and alcohol wasn't exactly pleasant.  Since we couldn't set him down the bed, we ended up hauling him to the bathtub, setting the shower on him. 

Peeta gave me an odd look when I laughed awhile ago; there was no humour in the situation after all. Forming a good impression wasn't really on my agenda. "It's alright; I can take it from here," he said.

I nodded, "Okay," I nodded, putting my lips together. "Do you—need me to call those Capitol people?" I asked, stumbling over my words. My confidence seemed to have been drained at some point.

He shook his head "No, I don't want them," he responded. I nod for the last time and head to my own room, relieved that I don't have to wash putrid vomit off Haymitch's chest hair, or something. Though it would be the perfect "revenge" for the people working here, I get why he doesn't want to see them. 

I wonder, why does he want to help such a wreck? Was he simply kind like the time he gave me bread? Or was he using this to gain Haymitch's favour? A feeling of nervousness bubbled up within me, a kind Peeta Mellark was way more dangerous than an unkind one. Not everyone in the district can afford to be kind, so kind people make such a mark on me.

I looked at the packet of cookies at the table beside the fancy bed—a lump formed in my throat. Kindness would've been nice, but not in this situation. I sighed, taking my attention to the window instead. 

There stood a lonely yellow flower, a dandelion. It took me back to the schoolyard, all those years ago. My eyes had just left Peeta's bruised face when I saw that dandelion; hope rose within me that moment, I plucked it gently from the ground and hurried home. I grabbed a small, broken bucket and grabbed Nal's hand and headed to a meadow. It was filled with the same flowers.

It was the first moment where Nal smiled after our Father's death. He loved the way the flowers smelled and looked. However, he was quite upset because we had to eat them, with the rest of the bakery bread. My father loved his plants, maybe a bit too much. 

I remember countless hours we spent in the woods looking for a specific type of plant, whether for eating or for medicine. He had me memorize them by heart, which took a couple of years because I got distracted halfway through. 

The next day, we were off to school. I hung around the edge of the meadow after, contemplating whether I should jump the fence. My mother couldn't get a job, well, she didn't want to. She thought the whole District would shame her the moment she stepped out of our crumbling home. It made no sense to me; we had nothing to lose anymore.

Which is exactly why I went under the fence, retrieved the old, leather-bound daggers my father made from scraps and wood. It was pretty frail, but if you handle it carefully and throw it properly, it won't break—most of the time.

I didn't go beyond twenty yards that day; I didn't feel confident enough to go deeper, fearing I'd get lost in the forest. I took home a small rabbit that day, we hadn't had meat for months, so it honestly looked like a full course meal, like the one we were served in the tribute train.

My mother isn't the greatest cook, so she burnt a couple of bits, mainly the thighs. But it still filled us. The woods became my second home, escaping the sad atmosphere my mother gave off and the pressure the Peacekeepers would regularly make us feel. 

The hunting started slow, but each time I went under, I went deeper. I stole eggs from nests, jumped from tree to tree and managed to shoot a squirrel or two down. I struggled with the fish; my father would always throw his dagger to the fish with little to no effort. Whenever I'd throw mine, it would miss. It took me a couple of times to figure out the water distorts my vision.

The plants were no effort; I knew which one to pick, which ones were poisonous. The signs of danger used to terrify me back to the fence until I gathered enough courage to climb the tall trees, then I stuck with it, not liking the feeling of being chased. The wild dogs would always leave me alone after a while.

On July 15th, I finally signed up for the tesserae, carrying the first batch of grains and oils in the same broken bucket I used to gather those dandelions. I patched it up with some scrap bark. On the 15th of every month, I would put my name once again. I still had to hunt; grains weren't enough. We still needed soap, milk, thread and many more things we used to have. I began to trade in the hob, learning how to hold my tongue in the process. My father used to trade there as well; he used to do all the talking while I watched, stayed silent. 

And so I simply tossed the game I had to their tables. They caught on fairly quick; I'd only speak up when it came to bargaining or when I'd change what'd I'd buy. Or when I would insult wild dog soup. My father was a charismatic man, always able to persuade people to buy whatever. Not me, though, I was like a sore thumb. Painful, to talk to at least.

My mother wasn't very enthralled with the fact that I had been hunting, too much like my father, she said. That's when we argued, "Don't be stupid like your father!" she shouted. I remember my face contorting to anger, how my fists clenched as she continued to scream. 

I finally exploded, "Why don't you go out and get a job if you don't want me hunting, then? You'd rather we starve?!" I said, slamming the table. "I won't die, I won't end up like father! I won't be Capitol's pig, neither was he!" 

"But if you do die?" She argued back, tears flowing down her cheeks as she gripped both my shoulders. "I'm only thinking of you, Y/n!"

I scoffed, glaring at her, "If you're thinking of us so much, then why aren't you helping us?! If I don't die being accused of rebellion, then I'll die because of those stupid games because of you!"

"Don't blame me for this! It was your father's fault for being brash—" She reasoned, but I cut her off by pushing her off me. I stared at her as if she grew three heads. "They asked you," I whispered, "All you did was nod, you could've lied."

Her green eyes shook at my words, "Lie to the Peacekeepers? The Capitol? And get us killed as well?! I only what your father wanted," 

"They didn't have anything on father! It was your voice that gave it away! It's your fault that he's dead, now we're over here starving because you can't get over yourself—"

Then there was a sting on my cheek. She had slapped me. My eyes landed on a crying Kunal; guilt surged through me, so I ran. I ran to the woods and slept on top of a tree, humming a soft tune to the mockingjays next to me. They listened and sung back. I fell asleep to their lullaby, surprisingly, not falling off.

I found my hand on the same cheek my mother slapped that day. I was going to die the same way I said, how ironic. I won't be able to apologize or tell my mother I loved her anymore. A sigh left my lips as I continued to stare out the window. 

I clenched my fists, punching the wall as my breath hitched. I let out a groan, holding the stinging part of my hand. I glared at the wall, grumbling under my breath before I decided to fall asleep, not wanting to think of my regrets and what I could've done. As I closed my eyes, I only hoped my dreams would be pleasant. 

"Up! Up! Up! It's a big big day!"

Effie Trinket's voice awoke me from my dreamless slumber. I groaned, muttering profanities as she left my compartment. I tried to imagine what it was like in that stupid wig--- well--- head of hers, it made my head hurt.

I had fallen asleep in the green shirt, causing it to become wrinkled, the. Not that I cared, there will be some stylist stripping me anyways. I shuddered at the thought of Capitol people touching me, what a nightmare. My eyes landed on the packet of cookies on my bedside table. I decided to grab it.

I entered the dining compartment, still half-lidded and yawning. Effie Trinket brushes me with a cup of black coffee. She was muttering obscenities, probably because of Haymitch. Peeta held a roll, looking somewhat embarrassed  "Sit down! Sit down!" Haymitch said.

Peeta flashed me a smile, amused by how dishevelled I look. To be fair, I wasn't a morning person, I find waking up to be a tiring task. I rubbed my eyes, the packet of cookies still in my hands as I slid down the chair.

They served an enormous platter of food. I'd hate to admit it, but I was starving. So for the first time, I decided to stab it with the fork, not sure what to do with the cookies so I pocketed them. I figured I'd eat them much. . . much later.

I chewed slowly, glare on my face as my eyes struggled to remain open. I didn't even notice the orange juice next to me because of it. Peeta nudged me, handing me a cup of brown, rich liquid. It was quite warm. "They call it hot chocolate," he said. "It's quite good,"

My green eyes moved from him to the cup, then back to him. As if asking for permission. I sniffed, muttering a "thank you," before I took the cup from him. The moment the hot chocolate touched my lips I felt awake.

Not only was it hot, but it was also amazing. I've never tasted anything like this before. Coffee was a luxury, this I cannot even fathom. After I've drained my cup, I put it down and muster a sheepish smile. "Is there more?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

Effie seemed to be excited by my sudden interest. "Glad you're finally appreciating the finer things," she quipped as another cup was passed to me. "Right," I responded, gripping the cup tightly.

I stopped eating when I felt somewhat full, only asking for more hot chocolate. Peeta is still eating, breaking off bits of roll and dipping them in his hot chocolate.

Haymitch hasn’t paid much attention to his platter, but he’s knocking back a glass of red juice that he keeps thinning with a clear liquid from a bottle. Judging by the fumes, it’s some kind of spirit. I don’t know Haymitch, but I’ve seen him often enough in the Hob, tossing handfuls of money on the counter of the woman who sells white liquor. He’ll be a mess again by the time we reach the Capitol.

"So, you're supposed to give us advice," I said, taking a sip of the hot liquid. He grinned, "Here's some advice, stay alive," then he burst out laughing.

My brows furrowed, "Ha. Ha." I let out, unamused. I glanced to Peeta, surprised to see Hardness in his eyes. Usually, he looked mild. "That's very funny," he said as if adding to my remark. He suddenly lashed out at the glass in Haymitch's hands. It shattered, spilling the blood-red liquid on the floor. "Only not to us,"

Haymitch took this opportunity to punch Peeta straight in the jaw, knocking the boy out of his chair before turning around to reach for more spirits. I stopped him, driving a knife into the table, between his hand and the bottle, barely missing his fingers.

I expected some sort of retaliation, but that didn't come. "Oh, well what is this?" he said. "Did I actually get a pair of fighters this year?"

Peeta rose from the floor and scoops up a handful of ice from under the fruit tureen. He started to raise it to the red mark on his jaw.

"No," Haymitch stopped him. "Let the bruise show. The audience will think you’ve mixed it up with another tribute before you’ve even made it to the arena."

"That’s against the rules," said Peeta. "Only if they catch you. That bruise will say you fought, you weren’t caught, even better," said Haymitch. He turns to me. “Can you hit anything other than the table?"

I shrugged, pulling the knife off the table. "Your head or. . ." I said, before tossing the knife in between the seams of two panels. If I was confident at one thing, it's my aim. But not so much with a bow.

"Stand over here. Both of you," ordered Haymitch, nodding to the middle of the room. We obey and he circles us, prodding us like animals at times, checking our muscles, examining our faces. “Well, you’re not entirely hopeless. Seem fit. And once the stylists get hold of you, you’ll be attractive enough.”

Peeta and I don’t question this. The Hunger Games aren’t a beauty contest, but the best-looking tributes always seem to pull more sponsors. Though I do enjoy the fact that the stylists are likely going to have a hard time styling me.

"All right, I’ll make a deal with you. You don’t interfere with my drinking, and I’ll stay sober enough to help you," said Haymitch. "But you have to do everything I say,"

Of course, there's a catch. "Fine," Peeta said while I shrugged carelessly, sipping on my hot chocolate. "In a few minutes, we’ll be pulling into the station. You’ll be put in the hands of your stylists. You’re not going to like what they do to you. But no matter what it is, don’t resist," Instructed Haymitch

Oh, well there goes my plan on being a general nuisance. Damn you, Haymitch.

He takes the bottle of spirits from the table and leaves the car. As the door swings shut behind him, the car goes dark. There are still a few lights inside, but outside it’s as if night has fallen again. I realize we must be in the tunnel that runs up through the mountains into the Capitol. The mountains form a natural barrier between the Capitol and the eastern districts. It is almost impossible to enter from the east except through the tunnels. This geographical advantage was a major factor in the districts losing the war that led to my being a tribute today. Since the rebels had to scale the mountains made them easy targets for the Capitol's air forces.

Peeta and I stood in silence. My finger raised, mouth opening but I decided it wasn't worth it and awkwardly shuffled to one of the windows. He seemed to have caught on, however. "Nice view, isn't it?" he joked.

"I guess if you're blind," I answered dryly, raising the warm cup to my lips. "Sophisticated darkness, my favourite type," I finished.

He chuckled, walking next to me, the train slowing on cue. My muscles tensed as the sunlight entered the compartment. It was blinding. After my eyes adjusted I finally saw the Capitol.

I would be lying if I said it wasn't beautiful. Rainbow hued buildings that tower to the sky, possibly beyond. Shiny cars rolling on the fancy, clean pavement streets. The cameras failed to capture its beauty. It would've been perfect if not for the fact that the oddly dressed colours, wearing blizzard wigs and painted faces exist.

They looked painfully artificial. I much prefer the natural tones of district 12. "Eugh, how do they look at themselves?" I muttered, catching the attention of Peeta, who chuckled at my comment.

Huh, I forgot that he was there.

The same disgusting people began to point at us, enthralled. I was sickened, they couldn't wait to watch us kill each other like wild wolves. I suppose that's better than ending up at soup.

I stepped back, a scowl on my face. No longer able to stand the obnoxious attires and the mocking smiles of scums. Peeta held his ground, smiling and waving at them.

He only stopped when the train stopped at the station, blocking up from their view. "Who knows?" he said. "Some of them may be rich."

My body seemed to freeze as I took one last sip of the now-luke warm hot chocolate. That's when I realized, I had misjudged him. Not that I can read people well.

Which made sense, if I could I would've known that his father visiting me, offering to help Haymitch only to challenge him and now, waving and smiling at those slugs. He had a plan in mind.

He hasn't accepted his death yet. Peeta Mellark, the boy who gave me bread was fighting hard.

And that terrified me.

word count: 2.8k

Hey guys! sorry for the long wait! Had to take a break!

tags;

@nin3s

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: INFP with social anxiety here. I have a therapist but we're focusing on some other issues right now. In the meantime, I was wondering if you had some advice for me. I know you're not a professional (you say that multiple times in your posts) and of course I'm not asking you for a fix for my social anxiety with this - I'm just asking your help to understand what part my cognition could be playing in all of this cause I'm really curious.

Basically, my problem is the time frame right BEFORE I meet someone and, sometimes, immediately after. I don't really have problems socializing in the "middle", if you get what I mean; I'm easily adaptable and once I'm relaxed, once I realize no one is there to attack me, my mind starts getting ideas and I kind of know what to say, even though I'm a bit out of practice and I still have problems convincing other people of my emotions (like, mirroring their emotions so that they know I agree with them and stuff like that; for some reason they never ---believe me when I say it with words).

When I make plans, anyway, and I still haven't met the person, I get this anxiety: like I would rather stay home than go there because it's going to be "boring" and I'm probably going to feel like an idiot or make some sort of social gaffe. I mean, I do kinda get bored after a while anyway, but I also know I tend to overestimate that level of "future boredom" to the point it hurts me to even think about showing up and forcing myself to think of stuff I can-- say.

I get anxious because I start thinking about the way people used to treat me in the past (I've always been the black sheep of my family and/or my social circles and I vividly remember some bad things they used to say to me) and I start worrying that, deep down, they still think of me like that and they're never going to forget that "preconception of my identity" and open their eyes to who I am now, or I guess to who I've always been.

I do realize it doesn't make much sense, this "who I ----really am" part - but I've always had the impression that I was a bit different than the "me" they percieved, maybe because after many, many years of being accused of "selfishness" and "inability to tune in with the emotional atmosphere" I learned that in order not to ruin the "social mood" I should've adapted myself to the group - but the problems is that I suppressed "myself" in the meantime (and with myself I mean, like, my real interests, the things I'd like to talk about for ages without-- having to be interrupted or looked down on because, quote unquote, "ok, cool, but we don't really care").

I understand now that if they don't give me hints of actually caring about the subject I should stop rambling like a fool, but this is making me feel like I have nothing "useful" to offer them and therefore bringing the anxiety I'm struggling with. It makes me scared that I'll never be able to be myself around them because of the "social rules" I want to respect to be accepted, & to make----it worse I'm out of practice like I said before and sometimes it just gets too awkward and I want to get out of there.

I bet I'm doing something wrong because friendships and relationships in general are not supposed to be "boring", am I right? And yet until I don't get distracted by the actual conversation, I feel like it's going to be really boring and uncomfortable and sometimes going through it is SO horrible... most of the time I end up making up some excuse to go home earlier and talk----my internet friends instead (thank God for the internet!!!!). Anyway, thank you if you'll answer! And have a good summer vacation c:

-----------------------

The first thing I notice is that your thought process bears a very striking resemblance to many INFJs who struggle with social anxiety due to poor Fe development (see past posts). As a general rule, if I have good reason to suspect that someone might be mistyped, I won't provide info about function development until they undergo a proper type assessment. Otherwise, they might adopt the wrong method of improvement.

You say you want to understand what part your cognition plays in the social anxiety you experience, so I will mention the aspects of your cognition that seem most significant:

1) No Chill: You overthink things to an extreme, to the point of self-sabotage, perhaps even creating a self-fulfilling prophecy (i.e. when expecting the negative actually makes the negative happen). Overthinking means that you're not confronting the real obstacle getting in the way of your socializing. You're constantly trying to envision, imagine, or predict what will happen in a social interaction? WHY? What's the point of that overthinking? It's how you avoid confronting your fear head on.

2) Insecure: Your "predictions" are too often faulty because of being tainted by your underlying insecurities. You're insecure about being attacked, being accused, being misjudged, doing something wrong, being deemed of no value or unworthy of care, not being accepted or acceptable, dying of awkwardness, feeling bored, feeling uncomfortable, and on and on. You've described your thought process in detail. But nowhere do I see you confronting your insecurities, digging deeper into them, in order to understand the root of them. Insecurities are a manifestation of fear.

3) Control: Irrational anxiety is oftentimes about trying to control things that you shouldn't be trying to control or cannot have any control over - it wastes mental energy and leads to futile behavior. As long as you're trying to control social situations and their outcome, you are either trying too hard to make reality match up with your expectations or you're fumbling whenever reality unfolds outside of your expectations - you become rigid and frail. You claim to be "adaptable" but everything you say after that only proves you don't know the meaning of the word. You can't handle unpredictability, hence, the attempt to be in control by trying to "predict" everything. Do your attempts to control actually work? Do they help or hinder you? If they mostly hinder you, then isn't it time to change your strategy? Anxious people often believe that having more knowledge or control is the answer to their fear. But, in your case, the huge cost of being controlling is being incompetent. What's worse, the fear is still right there running the show.

4) Unresolved Trauma: You attribute your troubles to your past. Fair enough. Growing up in a social environment that did not respect and appreciate you is painful, even extremely traumatic for certain personality types. It also makes people too hungry for validation. It's natural that you wouldn't want to feel the pain of it again. However, if that pain remains unexamined and unresolved, you will unconsciously keep seeking to resolve it, which means re-enacting the trauma over and over again throughout life. The proof? Every time you meet someone, your first stance is defensive, because the first thing that comes into your mind is that you don't want to be attacked or invalidated. That old pain is running the whole show because you are deeply afraid of experiencing it again, yet you don't realize that YOU are the one calling it back up and rehashing it. What are you doing to resolve the pain rather than indulge the fear?

5) Self-absorbed: Social anxiety makes people too absorbed in their own thoughts, feelings, hopes, and expectations. They are too preoccupied with what they want, what will happen, how they will be perceived, how they might make a mistake, how they might be attacked, etc. This means they're not truly present with people, so the relationship can't really go far. Driven by fear and insecurity, they are always behind a wall, too difficult to reach.

Even if you happen to meet the right people, do you make it easy for them to befriend you? It seems that you can't open up with ease, you can't go with the flow of the other person when they don't live up to your expectations, you can't keep your emotions in check and misjudge situations, you get bored when it's not about you, you run away instead of making things better. Looking at yourself objectively from the outside, would you want to be friends with someone like that?

If you want to have good friends, you first have to BE a good friend. You want care, love, and validation? We all do. The best way to receive it is to be the first to give it. By being more aware of other people's needs and doing more to show that you care about them, you put them in a better position to care about you and meet your needs in return. This is the difference between actively trying to "make" a friend vs passively wishing for a friend to drop into your lap.

Being a friend isn't about what "value" you have, as though you're some kind of object being appraised and sold. Being a good friend is quite a simple matter of putting out the energy to care and show that you care. When you meet someone who's moved by your care, they will care for you in return. When you meet someone who's unmoved by your care, figure out the real reason why, in order to determine whether you should keep trying or put your energy elsewhere.

You never really know who you'll hit it off with. One of my favorite experiences in life is making a friend in the unlikeliest of places. As an adult, meeting new people is a numbers game. All you can do is keep pushing yourself to meet new people. The more people you meet, the greater the odds of clicking with someone. If you're looking to meet like-minded people, go to places that are likely to have people who share your interests. If you don't hit it off with someone, simply move along. You don't have to be friends with everyone, do you?

Yet, you take every little social interaction so seriously that each step is like life or death - that's what makes socializing tiring, laborious, and unfun. Why not enter into every social interaction with an open mind and an open heart? Why not truly go with the flow, without having to undergo the repetitive ritual of predicting what will happen or fussing over what did happen?

6) Poor Emotional Intelligence: This point is the common thread that runs through the previous points, which is why I keep repeating the word "fear". You have extremely low tolerance for negative feelings and emotions, which means you really need to work on learning how to deal with your emotional life better. Any little sign that things won't turn out the way you want and you start to panic, overthink, blame, or flee. Why do you recoil from yourself and your own feelings and emotions? Why are you so easily shaken by boredom, awkwardness, invalidation, failing, other people's negativity, etc? Why do you react so badly to these things (when others just brush it off and keep going)?

7) Low Self-Awareness: It's not enough to just name the fear ("I'm afraid of____"). Does the label explain why you have this particular fear and not some other fear? It's not enough to blame the past ("It's because of ____"). Why did someone else with a similar past as yours not develop this fear? To get to the root of fear, you have to identify, in exact terms:

what aspect of you has to change to overcome the fear

what aspect of your identity has to "die" (i.e. be let go of) in order to evaporate the fear

Until you answer the fear properly, it won't go away.

[jaeminzie]

opposites attract | l.jn

↳ lee jeno x gender neutral!reader

synopsis: soulmate!au where if your soulmate is listening to music then it’ll be stuck in your head until they stop listening to it. in this case, you and jeno have contrasting music tastes.

genre: fluff

word count: 2,503

warnings: slight mentions of vaping

a/n: also let’s pretend that jeno is at the age to be a freshman in college in this fic lmao

being a freshman in college, the workload was something jeno wasn’t used to so he chooses to deal with it in procrastination. well, tonight is the last day to turn in majority of his assignments that he’s been holding off on. so far, he’s gotten four papers turned in and he’s currently executing all his energy to finish his last paper of the night. though he’s too frustrated at the fact that his soulmate hasn’t stopped listening to music.

see, it started off alright. at the beginning of the night, the music was mellow and perfect for studying but, approximately two hours ago, the music changed to heavy emo music (which jeno loathed) and it’s been playing nonstop since then. now he’s left with one paper but he can’t seem to type as his fingers were too occupied on gripping his soft hair in frustration.

on the other hand, you were currently laying inside your dry bathtub peacefully listening to your tunes with your body relaxed and eyes closed, humming along to the music. apparently, this was the best way to past time that you could think of without interacting with anyone. your airpods were too loud to hear your sister banging on the door telling you to get out so she could shower. so you stayed there, bopping your head but abruptly jolted when louder music blared through your head interrupting your own little music sesh.

Shut up, just shut up, shut up

Shut up, just shut up, shut up

Shut up, just shut up, shut up

Shut up, just shut up, shut up

is that... is that black eyed peas? you paused your music to listen a bit clearer. but a couple seconds after you paused it, the music coming from your soulmate stopped as well. shrugging, you pressed play on your phone and continued listening to your own music in oblivion.

leaving jeno collapsing on his bed in defeat.

—

the following week, you were cruising around the town just so you can be out of the house. again, you were blasting your hardcore music which left jeno, who is currently on his nightly run to destress from his college student struggles, wondering if you never not listen to music. he’d think he’d be used to his soulmate’s music taste by now but he can’t help but worry over your differences in music. you’re also on the same boat. countless nights of you ranting about your soulmate’s hetero taste of music to your group chat whenever he’d listen to justin bieber and you’d be forced to listen to him as well. of course, your kind friends would clown you making you feel worse but they’ve been trying to convince you that music taste shouldn’t be a problem. but to you, it is. and apparently to jeno, it is as well.

jeno sighed in relief when he heard the music stop in his head. he halted his running to give himself a break and entered the nearest store to buy himself a bottle of water since he stupidly forgot to bring one with him.

the bells chimed when someone entered the store but you paid no attention to it as you were too focused on picking what flavor you wanted. though, you anxiously picked the first one you saw when you noticed you were taking too long and the person standing behind you was tapping their foot, running out of patience. you hurriedly paid for the item feeling bad for holding up the line. you kept your head lowered but you managed to get a glimpse of the person who was waiting behind you. you only saw his grey sweatpants and the imprint of his muscular arms behind his baggy white shirt. and damn, you froze in your footsteps and had to take a double look of his figure when you were fully behind him so he couldn’t see you shamelessly checking him out.

you stood there timidly as you clutched your puffbar in disbelief, not knowing how to act when you’re experiencing the presence of this beautiful stranger. you looked at him from top to bottom, trying to memorize the view of his back since you knew you’ll never see him again because you felt too coy to go up to him and make a move.

“goddamn,” you whispered under your breath and dragged yourself out of the 7/11 before the boy finishes paying. you were sulking during the quick walk to your car, and immediately opened your puffbar and took a hit once you were seated inside. resting your head on the steering wheel and letting the fruity flavored smoke seep out of your mouth, you reached your hand to the volume control and cranked it up in an attempt to distract yourself.

you looked up and tried to peep through the windows to get another glance of the pretty boy. he turned around almost immediately when you found his figure, but thankfully he didn’t see you slyly peeking at him with your phone in your hands. your fingers rapidly typed away, informing your group chat that you’re currently seeing the most beautiful boy you’ve ever seen. you examined his face with heart eyes from afar trying to engrave the image of his face with every single dot and line in your mind so you can remember it tomorrow and the day after, but you furrowed your eyebrows when you noticed the annoyed expression plastered onto his face that didn’t seem to leave, or even lessen slightly. sitting lowly in the driver’s seat and throwing your phone in the backseat, you still kept an eye on the boy but made sure you weren’t obvious at all. you watched him walk outside of the store, fascinated by the way he walked with so much confidence and grace.

but the second he stepped onto the cement and into the warm outdoor air, he abruptly stopped his movements.

did the music just get louder? jeno thought to himself, he skimmed through the gas station and the parking lot to find the source of the loud music. you immediately made yourself look busy as if you weren’t just watching every single movement of his body and admiring every crevice of his face a couple seconds ago.

you began to panic when he kept looking over to your direction but not directly at you. yet.

you lowered your music to make sure you don’t catch his attention since you weren’t mentally prepared to meet a pretty boy tonight, but you were unfortunate. you hastily tried to put your seatbelt on but your shaky hands couldn’t get the buckle inside to lock. “please please please plea-“

knocking on your car window interrupted your pleas. scrunching your nose out of habit, you slowly looked over to your left where the knocking was. and damn, you were not ready to see the man up close. all his features, the way his eyes glistened, the way some of his hair strands sticked to his sweaty forehead, how perfectly tinted his pink lips are, and how his small mole was splattered so close to his moon crescent shaped eye. so clear under the moonlight.

he stood timidly outside your car with his hands in the pocket of his sweatpants that you were previously drooling over. without thinking and processing what was happening, it’s like your finger has a mind of its own and pressed the button to lower the slightly tinted car window itself. “um were you listening to music?” his voice was hoarse due to the dryness caused by his run.

you didn’t trust yourself to speak knowing you’ll make the atmosphere even more awkward, so you simply just gulped and nodded with a small smile.

“can i... can i listen with you?” jeno didn’t know exactly what he was asking. he didn’t know if he was hearing correctly or it was just his imagination, but he could’ve sworn that he heard the same music that was booming in his head also in the car you were currently in.

you were perplexed. how weird but no complaints, you thought. “yeah.. why not..” your voice came out small which you mentally slapped herself for making your nervousness so evident. you cranked up the volume slightly, keeping your focus on your steering wheel so you weren’t able to see the change of expression on jeno’s face.

“can i come in?” his voice seemed more alive and less soft than before since he couldn’t contain his mixed feelings as he realized that he’s standing outside of his soulmate’s car.

without any hesitation, “yes.” you slapped your mouth with your hand immediately, not knowing why you just allowed a whole stranger inside your car. but if you were to die tonight because of this god-like man, it might be a better way to die than blandly dying in your sleep. and you always loved to have spice in your life. plus, you were not about to pass an opportunity to spend time with the boy, or you’d hate yourself forever for denying him.

jeno stood there baffled, not expecting you to agree rather quickly. nonetheless, he strutted his way towards the other side of the car and shyly sat beside you inside, not bothering to wear the seatbelt. you both wanted to groan due to the painful awkward silence surrounding your strained figures. you can’t help but notice how tensed jeno was sitting in your passenger seat, his hands fiddling on his bouncing knees and his back straight. jeno faced you, “can i play a song?”

you, in awe, nodded your head enchantedly while boring your eyes into him, admiring his appearance every millisecond that passed before he turns away from you and connects the aux cord to his phone. he increases the volume slightly and hovered his shaking thumb over his phone screen, slowly pressing play. you flinched when bieber’s voice boomed inside your head and in your car, replacing the melodies of your own favored music. you covered your ears and scrunched your face until the realization came to you, causing you to relax your facial expression and lower your hands down to your thighs. being in a state of shock, the first words to come out were “what the fuck?”

the still coy boy widened his eyes in panic, “am i not what you were expecting?”

you rapidly moved your head ‘no’ in eager disagreement as you took in the feeling of finally meeting your soulmate. and god, you couldn’t wait to assist him on his music choices. but at the moment, you didn’t mind hearing the pop singer’s voice stuck inside your head. in fact, you didn’t even focus on the horrid music that jeno was playing since all your attention was placed onto the beautiful man who would not stop staring at you so intensely sitting in your car at nearly ten p.m. “no, i’m very much satisfied.” the smallest smile appeared on your face which allowed jeno to relax slightly.

a wave of courage crashed into your body when you stopped the music shortly after, you made strong eye contact with him. jeno still sat in his seat stiffly as he watched your every move with soft eyes that contrasts with his harsh posture. you leaned in painfully slow, trying to see any discomfort in jeno’s face and body language but once you saw his body relax and his eyes longing for your lips, you couldn’t help but mold your lips together.

sucking in a bit of air, you were the first to move your lips taking small control. your lips kept moving and moving but it kept its slow pace, rubbing against each other so softly. you could taste his mint-flavored chapstick smeared on his lips which messily transferred onto yours as well, while jeno could taste your strawberry-flavored lips from the puffbar— feeling intoxicated by the kiss and wanting more.

the awkward atmosphere was long gone, and you two felt nothing but warmth and familiarity as you’ve finally found one another. you two have been connected by your minds before today, but now you’re finally able to connect with one another by the use of your lips tonight.

boldly, jeno easily lifted you up off of your seat and onto his lap like it was nothing. your heartbeat became unsteady when you gripped onto his arms and felt nothing but hard muscle, his hands placed safely on your waist caressing your side softly. everything about the kiss was so nourishing, it wasn’t aggressive whatsoever— both your lips were plump and the movements of your fingertips against each other’s goosebump-covered skins were delicate. you, being the first to pull away to catch a breath, were fascinated over how amazing jeno’s stamina was. you remained on his lap, as jeno rested his forehead onto your forehead and stared deeply into your dark but shining eyes, sighing contently not knowing what to say next.

thankfully, you said the first words. “you have really shitty taste in music.” earning a genuine laugh from jeno who was shaking his head slightly in disbelief with the most beautiful eye smile you’ve ever seen.

“me? i don’t know how you don’t get a headache everytime you listen to your music.”

you smiled big causing your eyes to crinkle up. your hand reached down for the seat’s lever and made the passenger seat recline all the way back resulting to you laying onto his chest. you gasped in a joking manner, “that isn’t nice.”

“hmm, you’re the one to talk. you just insulted my music taste.” his voice became softer, but you could still sense his smile through his voice. jeno’s hand began to comb through your soft hair while your fingertips traced the outlines of his veins popping out of his arms.

“i was just telling the truth, and being honest is the best thing a person can do, sooo..” continuing to nonchalantly draw random circles and lines on his arm, you looked up at him and you immediately made eye contact since his eyes were already set on you the entire time.

pulling your hair back slightly so he can get a better view of your slightly pink tinted face, he replied with, “then i’ll be honest.” his voice came out in almost a whisper, the corners of his bruised lips from all the kissing turned upwards. “you’re so beautiful.”

you scrunched your nose because although you tried so hard to cringe at his words, you couldn’t stop the butterflies swarming in your stomach and you couldn’t stop the idiot smile forming on your face. you looked away and rested your cheek back onto his chest, returning to trace his veins while his fingers went back to work combing your hair. there, the two of you laid in silence under the moonlight taking in your soulmate’s presence. thinking maybe you’d be able to tolerate each other’s music taste for a change, and find a common ground or two.

[bl--ankhaeji]

Five Months(yuta)

Pairing ~ Yuta x Reader

Genre ~ A little bit of angst, fluff, humor if you can find it and bittersweet

Warning ~ uhh I don’t really have any 

A/N ~ so for this i felt like my writing changed a little. like so far I haven’t written anything with this type of atmosphere or theme so it was something new and I really enjoyed writing this. I also want to say thank you to my beta readers Xiami and Mylin. 

W. Count ~ 2.4k

Hii, before we get into the story. Wanted to let you guys know that this is my fic for the Secret Santa collab that @neoculturechristmas held. @neonun-au I am your secret santa 😊 or 🎅🏽anon. I am sorry I didn’t talk to you that much in your asks, but when we did I really enjoyed it. I hope you enjoy.  

On to the story

You and Yuta have been broken up for around five months now. Over what, you truly don’t even remember. Some petty argument got out of hand and it caused you guys to break up with each other in the heat of anger. Usually when things like that happen the couple gets back together within a week and everything is fine, but sad to say that’s not what happened with you and Yuta. 

You both were entirely too stubborn for your own good, and with both of you refusing to even so much as speak to the other you managed to stay broken up for five months. And that’s what led you to where you are right now. Stranded on a snowy mountain trail with said ex. 

The sound of snow crunching underneath your boots was deafening,but even this noise couldn't drown out the sound of your thoughts. You ask yourself, how did what was supposed to be a quick stroll on a beautiful snowy trail to clear your mind end up becoming a meet up with your ex?

Oh, maybe it’s because life is a bitch that loves to fuck with you. What are the odds that you and your friends plan a Christmas trip to the same resort as Yuta and his friends? And what are the odds that your cabins are right next to each other? And what are the fucking odds that you both picked the exact same time to step out for a walk on the same trail, and you both manage to get lost? 

“Yuta, I really don’t think you know where the hell you’re going.” You say halting your steps, the icy tone in your words almost rivaling the cold outside. You both have been lost and aimlessly walking around for the past 20 minutes and the temperature continued to drop as it was getting later and later into the night. Yuta swore he knew the way back, but you were cold and tired and seriously doubting this ability. 

When you first realized you were lost, you tried to retrace your steps only to find out the consistently falling snow had already covered them, making it look as if no one had even been there. At first you thought, maybe this was a sign, an opportunity for you and Yuta to rekindle your relationship, but you quickly realized how wrong you were. 

Yuta’s hand reached up to his head, “Just, give me a minute okay. I know how to get back, we're almost there.” He said as he continued to pace forward. 

“Yuta, stop! Just fucking stop and admit that you don’t know where the fuck we are or where we are going! This is just like you, I see you haven’t changed in these last five months.” You scoff looking away as you wrap your arms around your waist, trying to generate some warmth.

“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean, huh?!” A fiery Yuta inquires, turning around to face you. 

“It means that even with our breakup, you still can’t admit when you’re wrong and don’t know something. You keep pushing at it, not listening, feeling like you have to know it all on your own.” The words fell out of your mouth unforgivingly, packing a punch in every single syllable. Finishing your statement, you roll your eyes, shifting your weight to your right side. 

“Wow, isn’t that fucking rich coming from you. I’m not the one who bottles everything up and whenever they feel is convenient enough decides to blow up on her boyfriend for no reason. Just like the one that broke us up, this argument was started by you. So don’t act like I’m the only problem.” Just like Yuta said, you may have started the argument but he seemed intent on finishing it. 

The cold was suddenly unbearable, and all you wanted right now was to just go to sleep in a warm bed. No words were spoken after that, and like that you and Yuta just pushed past it, continuing to walk forward and ignoring the venomous words you both spoke in hopes of forgetting this event. This really was no different than five months ago. 

The want to cry your heart out was almost all consuming, but you didn’t let a single tear fall. In hopes of not appearing weak and also because you believed with your whole heart that if you were to cry right, now the tears would turn to ice on your face instantly from the cold. So you kept your head down, trying to not think about where you actually were. 

You were completely zoned out until you heard, “Y/n, we’ve made it.” Raising your head, you see a wooden cabin in the distance. Finally, you thought, it was starting to get dark. You instantly start sprinting to the cabin. “Wait up.” Yuta said as he started to run behind you. The sounds of crushed snow and huffed breaths filled your ears. 

Upon getting closer to the cabin you realize something is off. Looking through the uncovered window on the door, you realize that this wasn’t the cabin that either of you currently occupied. You could tell not only from the emptiness in the house but also from the lack of lights and the quiet that rang through the air. “Yuta, I don’t know where we are but this isn’t either one of our cabins.” You tell him through bated breaths, your teeth slightly chattering, looking as he slows down until he stops in front of you, also out of breath. 

“Huh? What do you mean?” He asks as he tries the doorknob only to see that it’s locked.

“I mean that this isn’t where we’re staying. It’s just a random cabin in the woods.” Yuta swears loudly at the revelation. You both are stranded at some random cabin at night while it’s snowing and almost below freezing outside. “What the fuck are we gonna do? We could barely manage to find our way here. There's no way we’ll be able to navigate in the dark and find our way back.” 

“We have no choice, we have to break in. Our clothes and shoes are almost soaked through from the melted snow and I can practically hear your teeth chattering. Also, I’m hungry.” At the mention of food your stomach chooses now to rumble loudly almost as if agreeing with Yuta’s statement. 

A small chuckle leaves Yuta’s lips, “Don’t worry, I won’t let you go hungry.” He proceeds to take off the flannel he has underneath his snow jacket and wraps it around his hand making a fist. He lifts his fist getting ready to punch the glass before you stop him, your hands coming around fist. 

“Woah! Stop right there, we can’t just go vandalizing this random cabin hell we’re already breaking and entering. Just step aside, I got this.” You tell the man as you push him aside. You slightly tilt over, surveying the type of lock on the door and inwardly rejoice at the fact that there’s no bolt lock and it’s just a regular handle lock which seems to be quite loose. 

Good thing you brought your wallet in case you went to the convenience store. Taking out an old card, you proceed with breaking into the cabin. Sliding it in between the door handle and the frame, a smile takes over your face when you feel the door give and start to open. 

Standing straight, you look towards Yuta while inwardly praying the owners don’t have a silent alarm for the cabin. “Woah, that was kinda hot. When did you learn to do that?” He questions, leaning against the wall of the cabin watching you with predatory eyes. 

Something stirs in your stomach at the look on his face. Deciding to ignore it, you just say, “A lady never tells.” and waltz into the cabin with a wink. You hear a low whistle flow from his mouth as he follows you into the currently uninhabited cabin.    

You look around the room searching for a heater, preferably gas when the room suddenly gets flooded by light. “We have electricity, so that’s good.” Yuta says before he makes his way to the kitchen, “Now let's look for some food.” You hear a couple cabinets open and close before Yuta finds some canned food. Luckily, there’s three cans of beef soup that you guys can heat up and eat. 

Yuta gets the food going and you continue your search for a heater, finding it near the back of the room. You quickly turn it on in order to warm yourself up, while proceeding to take off your wet jacket and boots. It was a good thing the wood floor was covered with a rug. Yuta calls your name, telling you the food was ready, and you walk to the kitchen reluctantly, leaving behind the warm rug underneath your feet. 

You take the first sip of your soup, the warmth it radiates heating you up internally as it travels down your throat, and part of you feels relieved. The prospect of freezing to death wasn’t knocking at your door anymore and you had food in your system, but you and Yuta eat your soup in silence. Though the room was draped in a comfortable warmth and you guys weren’t yelling at each other you still couldn’t help but feel like something between you two just wasn’t right. 

After washing the dishes, you make your way back to the main room, tuning in on the softness of your sock clad feet padding against the wood floor. You spot Yuta standing near the heater and you notice that he had draped your wet jackets above the heater, possibly so they would be dry by the time you guys left in the morning. 

Lowering yourself to the rug, you sit down criss cross, busying yourself by braiding the tassels on the sides of the rug. You hear Yuta clear his throat as he sits across from you on the spacious rug. “Do you want to play a game?” He asks you looking up from his hands to gouge your reaction. 

“Sure.” you reply, waiting for him to tell you the game. He replies, telling you he wants to play          questions, and you prepare yourself for the possible shit show that might ensue. 

“I’ll go first. Are you still cold?” His simple question takes you by surprise. That’s not even close to what you expected for him to ask.

“Yea, just a little though.” You reply honestly shrugging your shoulders, “My turn.” What did you want to ask? you thought to yourself. You didn’t want to lower the atmosphere with a question about your relationship just yet, so you also decided to play it safe. “Are you still hungry?” 

“You know I am.” He quips a little smile playing at his lips. “Next question. Since you’re still cold, can I cuddle you right now?” Your eyes grow larger at his question and you can’t deny that the thought of it made your heart race a little. A slow nod is all the answer Yuta needs before he is scooting over behind you wrapping his arms around your torso. 

You never got to tell Yuta how good this hairstyle was on him. The bleached hair with lilac highlights fit him so well, and that’s all you could think as his head finds a home on the side of your neck and his semi long hair tickles the side of your face. You’re so focused on the sensation of his body against yours filtering his warmth to you that you don’t notice that it is now your turn for a question. 

“Y/n, it’s been your turn for a while.” Yuta speaks as his warm breath dances on your skin.

“Why have you not tried to mend things with me?” You don’t know if it’s just your curiosity or if it’s your brain trying to ruin the moment so you don’t get hurt but you decide it’s time to bring up your relationship.

“Well you can’t say you’ve tried all that hard either. It goes both ways y/n-” 

“Actually,” You interrupt him, “I did try, once. It was three months into our breakup and I was tired of missing you and missing us and I wanted it all to be over and to just put this behind us. So I went over to your house to mend things and I saw some girl leaving, and before you say I jumped to conclusions, I saw her kiss you.” Averting your eyes to your sweaty palms, you watch yourself rub them against your knees. You can feel the telltale sting in your eyes signifying future tears.

“That- Y/n no it’s really not what you think.” You feel Yuta’s arms wrap tighter around you. “That girl was a project partner and she came over so we could work on it, but she had heard that me and you broke up so she thought it was okay to try and shoot her shot by kissing me. I didn’t kiss back, nor did I enjoy it. I even ended up doing the rest of the project on my own.” 

You turn to look at Yuta to see if he’s telling the truth and you see no hints of falsity. Instantly you feel stupid, and you go to look back at the floor until Yuta grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him.  

“My turn. If I were to tell you that I was willing to change for us right now would you believe me?” His eyes burn intensely as he waits for your reply.

“If I were to tell you that you don’t have to change for us would you believe me?” Was your reply and you could see the hope forming in his irises

“If I were to tell you I still love you-” His words fall off as your lips meet his and they become occupied with something else. 

Five months. It had been five months since you heard his voice. It had been five months since you felt him against you. Five months since you tasted his lips. Five months since he had last declared his love. 

If you could go back in time and make it to where you never had to suffer that drought without him, you would. But for now you just wanted to enjoy the time you would get from today forward.