#there's no way to escape it's best you just accept your fate

[serawritesthings]

hi! Sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language. I don't know if you're accepting requests, if you not, just ignore. But I'm wondering how you would write something related to a jealous Arthur Morgan, high honor of course (with smut or without smut sincerely you know what looks best). the way you write is addictive and passionate, i believe anything you write from this would be great.

OUR DEAR, GREEN LITTLE FRIEND

Pairing | Arthur Morgan x Fem! Reader Summary | Oh, jealousy. When the thought of you straying too close to the comfort of Charles, the green monster claws its way into Arthur's head. Tags | sexual content 18+ minors dni, tiny bit of angst, description of violence and wounds, fluffy at times, smut Word Count | 10k A/N | Hi everyone! I just HAD to write this request, hope you like it! Also, thank you dearly anon♡

While many found the biting cold of the climate north of West Grizzlies to be bitter–sharp air seeping into your very bones–you saw it oddly liberating despite the current predicament. The circumstance was dire, indeed, and you pondered many times if this would finally be the end for all of you, thinking of the incredible luck you had managed to have so far. Fate, or an astonishingly fascinating knowledge on how to escape the grappling arms of the law with a suspicious amount of people trashing through the roads in utter, sheer panic.

Glancing around you as you huddled closer to the fire, hands rubbing furiously against the wool of your gloves to gain even the slightest warmth to your biting fingers, you were met with the flushed cheeks of your comrades. The skin that now glistened from the melting snowflakes was caressed by the warm, orange glow from the flames lighting up the small hut you had taken residence in. 

The road leading to here had been long, and the time spent in the wagon that did nothing to shield you from the penetrating wind that howled into the night, your thoughts had been entirely focused on the man who now lay dead a few meters away, tucked in some fabric to shield the paling flesh of a corpse. While the thought might not make you uncomfortable, it did its thing on the others who looked weary at the covered man. 

You had done your best to tend to him amidst the severe trembling of your fingers and numbness spreading through you the longer you rode in the worrying storm, finding his blood still staining the cotton of your gloves–a reminder that you had done what you could to help the poor fellow. Despite not knowing him well enough to shed a tear, death was still a death, and a slight melancholy set its claw in all of you as you tried to regain some warmth. 

“Stupid man.” Glancing beside you, you took notice of the dark-haired woman muttering angrily as she held a sleeping Jack close to her body. 

“What’s wrong?” You inquired quietly, curious of her obvious disdain.

“John Marston is what’s wrong.” Blazing heatedly into the fire, you could almost see the depths of hell through her furious eyes. “He didn’t come back with the rest.” Shifting her eyes to yours for a quick moment that, although short, showed the worry hidden beneath her anger. 

Nodding slowly as you leaned against her slightly in comfort, you realized you hadn’t taken notice of the man’s absence until now. Returning with empty hands and another mouth to feed had instead been the case, no Marston as far as the eyes could see as he probably whirred around in the blizzard somewhere.

“Do you think he…” As you spoke, you trailed off, growing unsure of your words while realizing your comments might be prodded into a sensitive subject. 

“No.” Firmly, she sniveled harshly, shaking her head in protest. “No, he wouldn’t leave again.” Although her words were sure, you still felt a lingering doubt cloud your mind, remembering being told of his earlier departure from the gang that caused more scars in their relationships than good–not that it wasn’t faulty from the very start.

As you were about to let your prying win against your common sense, you were interrupted by the door being audibly slammed open, the noisy winds from outside growing louder as snowflakes whirled inside. Walking inside was the prominent figure of Charles, nodding respectfully to its residents as the door shut behind him, once more letting the warmth settle.

“Folks.” He mumbled quietly, treading through everyone huddling by the fire as he glanced curiously at the new woman before settling beside you. You glanced up at him, taking in his snow-covered self before lingering on his hand that rested motionless on his legs, bandages visible under his gloves.

“It’s not too bad; the cold seems to numb the pain.” A slight smile graced your lips at his observance, finding it unique to the man to be so tentative to everyone around him. Letting out a small laugh, you reach to remove your gloves before taking his hand in yours so you could lay it in your lap, unwrapping the bandages to examine the burns covering his skin.

You had given it a quick look-over before you had to tend to Davey, doing the best you could to ease his pain you were sure would be unavoidable. Although the sight was quite gruesome, it didn’t look as bad as you had expected.

“You’re stronger than me, that’s for sure. I would be a crying mess if I burned my hand like that.” Your voice was gentle as you started to rewrap the fabric around his hand, finding it increasingly irritating you didn’t have the tools you usually did that would indeed do a fine job at lessening his pain.

You had managed to gain a slight smile from the otherwise aloof man, probably finding your words humorous. “Let’s hope it’ll never come to that.” 

Sharing a look, you heard the door open once again, the irritated voice of Uncle damning whoever was letting in the cold for the second time. Both you and Charles laughed slightly, and as you looked up, you were faced with a pair of squinting, blue eyes, the icy cold from the outside seemingly enhancing their sharpness although making a welcomed warmth spread through you as they gazed over you in a quick motion–departing to look at the hand that rested in your lap.

“A sad loss, folks,” Hosea stated as he stepped onto the wooden planks, speaking out loudly in the otherwise calm hut, groaning as he helped Arthur lift Davey’s lifeless body, limp like a ragdoll. 

Glancing subtly, you observed him as Arthur’s bulky form lifted easily, unlike Hosea, admiring how he made it seem so effortless. The others called him the camps workhorse, and you didn’t fail to see why, keeping your eyes firm on the man as he carried him towards the door. 

He shrouded you in uncertainty; he did, and you weren’t sure how to behave in his bold presence. You often felt like a goody two shoes, and even though you weren’t the perfect picture of a law-abiding citizen, you could honestly say you were a wimp compared to Arthur. 

You should be embarrassed, you really should, but there was something in his eyes– something that made your heart race. Utterly shameless, yet desperate to lock gazes again despite contradicting yourself and avoiding them every chance you could. Before you could get caught this time, you directed your eyes, focusing on tightening the bandages so they wouldn’t come loose. 

“Try to be careful, will you, Charles?” You spoke quietly while patting his hand, motioning that he was all set to go, but his hand stayed, giving you a grateful look. 

“Thank you.” His soothing voice was hushed as the loud bang of the door slammed shut not long after, ridding you of the tumult after their departure. 

–

Oh, it burned. It burned so deep in his loins that it felt like he would erupt into flames any second. Despite the cold surrounding him, he was sure it could be possible the more he was left with his thoughts. The hushed whispers, the soft touches, and the ever-so-gentle look in your eyes made him want to empty the little food in his stomach. 

“Sneaky little rat,” Arthur grumbled to himself as he shoveled his way through the deep layers of snow. Here he was, out in the cold, tortured by the howling winds of the snowstorm, while Charles remained inside the warmth of the hut, seated next to you, all because of a slight burn. 

He knew what he was up to–what any man would do if it meant getting your attention–and he wasn’t humored. Taking advantage of your good nature was downright uncalled for, bordering on immoral, which Arthur would probably realize wasn’t Charles’s character if his mind didn���t seek to find faults with the man the more his blood boiled.

He scoffed to himself, stabbing the ground maliciously, imagining your warm hands around his instead, the nimble fingers of yours tending to him as you moved in closer, your sweet smell reaching his nose as you gazed up at him, face blushed from the cold with lips begging him to warm them up with his. The thought did nothing more than cover his whole body in shivers, only to be reminded that it wasn’t him that received that attention from you.

“What are you huffing about over there, Arthur?!” Hosea’s strained voice attempted to shout over the loud winds, standing up to rest momentarily.

“Why don’t we just bury him when the storm has settled?!” Annoyance was apparent in his voice, the green jealous monster still wreaking havoc in his mind.

“I told you, the snow will be too heavy tomorrow, so we need to finish it while we still can!” He groaned, starting to shovel once more. “And I’ll be damned, we are going to give Davey a proper burial. He deserves that much!”

As Hosea blabbered on about justice and other forms of respect Arthur had no intent on listening to, he zoned out, feeling sorry for himself as he imagined you might be keeping close to Charles right this moment, warming yourself to his body in a desperate search of bodily heat. Rubbing the melted snow off his face, Arthur damned the heavens above for making him the unluckiest bastard in the West. 

Despite Arthur seeming dead set on you being lovey-dovey with a man you barely knew, Charles had left you after making some small talk, mentioning that he would try and get some well-deserved rest after the tumultuous past few days. Many others did as well, attempting to ease their minds from the constant threat against their back amidst the terrible cold.

Although, as days passed and John being back rid you of Abigail’s constant muttering, the cold only seemed to take its toll on you, unlike the others who quickly got used to the environment. Furthermore, the days only seem to get longer up in the mountains, and you wondered obsessively when you would get the chance to leave–damning everyone who thought seeking out Colm O’Driscoll in your compromised state a good idea instead of moving forwards.

Despite your dismay, you put yourself to use like the others, preparing to help Pearson in the grim act of cutting through the poor deer that had been brought back. While the sight gladdened you, knowing you would finally get a meal in your stomach, the brooding aura of a chestnut-haired, blue-coated man seemed to rain over you endlessly.

What could you have done to gain his stinging glare? It was almost cutting through you entirely from the burning that resided deep in his eyes, watching you ferociously, making your hair stand on edge. When he had returned with Charles, it had been nothing short of unpleasant ever since, although thankfully–despite his glare–his harsh words were directed towards Pearson instead of you, which you were glad for.

“How’s the cold treating you?” Glancing away from the two men bickering, you laughed slightly at Charles’s innuendo, dressed worse for wear as you pulled the thick, woolen scarf tighter around your neck, hugging yourself to keep warm.

“Could be worse, I guess,” you said, clouds like smoke surrounding you as you talked.

“I suppose. Still, I don’t want you freezing your fingers off.”

“Mhh,” you nodded thoughtfully, speaking up after silence. “Who would look after your hand if that happened?”

He chuckled heartily at your unsuspected joke, and you glanced up at him bashfully, a light smile covering your face at his apparent amusement. While your embarrassment of being so easily swayed by the cold, it felt nice having someone take notice of your obvious discomfort, even though you would say you were pretty good at keeping it to yourself. You couldn’t be surprised, though, well aware you and Charles were both tentative to your surroundings, always knowing but rarely telling.

“Here.” Taking off the large gloves covering his hand, no doubt doing an excellent job keeping him warm, he grabbed your trembling hands in his, rubbing them between his pleasant temperature hand and bandage-covered skin before gliding the fabric over yours. 

“No, Charl-” you protested, trying to stop him from continuing. 

“They’ll do you more good than me, I promise. They’re just in the way.” Stubbornly, he planted your hands back into your lap, petting them like you had done to him some nights ago before raising with a huff. 

“Thanks for the help, Arthur.” Charles nodded at the now grumpy man observing him as he rested against the wood of the wooden wall with arms crossed, seemingly ignoring Mr. Pearson’s lecture about the navy he felt so strongly about, only providing a quick tilt of his hat before heated eyes were set on you.

Your gaze faltered, the blush on your face from the cold only intensifying the spread of warmth you felt from gaining his profound stare–something you rarely took notice of. It wasn’t that he didn’t look at you; he probably looked too much at times, but he was never so ardent with it, scrutinizing you under their heavy weight–making you feel ten times smaller under his towering height. 

“Well, why don’t you skin the deer, Arthur? I’ll help you cut them up in a while, miss.” Mr. Pearson’s words were hasty, and you didn’t miss the bottle glistening under the sunlight as he tried hiding it behind his coat, scurrying away. He would, in fact, not be back; you were sure of that much. 

It wasn’t often you found yourself alone with Arthur, and you never strayed too close, finding his presence somewhat daunting. Not that you’ve had many chances to speak amidst all the chaos surrounding you, and being relatively new to the gang meant the trust lacked significantly from both sides. But, the intrigue was always present in every glance and movement.

You felt his gaze fixed on you a moment longer as you stared heedlessly at your hands, rubbing them together anxiously, having no clue what to do with yourself. While you weren’t one to speak the ears of others, you never had any problem socializing with those around you–but Arthur, he was something else entirely. Finally, though, he moved, approaching the hanging carcass.

“How are ya?” His sudden words surprised you, hanging awkwardly in the air.

“Oh, um. Good?” You cringed at yourself, finding the words stuck in your throat as his voice rumbling was loud and confident.

“Cold?” 

“A bit,” you said softly, staring at his back as he heaved the skin away from the animal, movements rigid and harsh. “Charles gave me his gloves, so it’s a little less chilly now.” You stumbled over your words, admiring his strength unabashedly as he hauled the skinned deer over his shoulder, slamming it down the table with a loud bang. He gave you no answer, instead bringing out the knife in his belt to do the job you were assigned to.

“Oh, let me!” Standing abruptly from your seat, you stepped towards him hurriedly in shame, feeling like you were just lazying around while Arthur was doing all the hard work. 

Grabbing his thick coat to let you take his position, you found him staying right where he was, looking down at you when your hand rested on his bicep. It was unusual for him to be so close, and a blush warmed your cheeks as his towering frame became more apparent when standing a short distance from one another.

“S’alright.” He spoke lowly. “I’ve got it.”

Your breath got caught in your throat as he gazed wholly at you, letting you know he had no problem with helping you. It warmed you, finding his action kind–just like the small acts of kindness he reserved for the other girls. You would sometimes glare after them, intensely jealous that Arthur seemed to have a soft spot for them, yet acting like you didn’t exist.

“Anything else I can do to help since you just did my job for me?” A shy smile found you, peering up at him as he sniveled, glancing at you while you sat on the bench again.

“Well, you’ve already done your charity work for the day, so you’re fine.”

“Charity work?” You wondered, staring at him curiously as he cut through the meat. “What do you mean?”

He only sighed heavily, like you should be able to understand his cryptic words. 

“He won’t die from a small burn; it ain’t enough reason to coddle the man like a child,” he grumbled. 

It took you a while to get the gears turning, but when you did, you felt yourself grow shy from his statement. “Charles? His hand isn’t looking too good…”

“Yeah? Well, you shouldn’t be so forward. You’ll give the poor man false hope.” He scoffed, stabbing the poor carcass harshly.

Staring at his back in disbelief at the sudden hatred, you had trouble understanding where it came from and why he suddenly grew so invested in whom you diverted your attention. You and Arthur rarely spoke, only changing quick words occasionally ever since you found yourself staying with the gang, and for that reason, you had failed to understand the reason for his hatred.

It seems all you ever did was look after everyone else, paying attention to their various troubles and tribulations regarding bodily harm. It wasn’t strange to you, and by no means did you give anyone false hope, merely trying to find your place with these people, an attempt to prove your usefulness.

“False hope?” You questioned, baffled. “I’m trying to help; I fail to understand how that is a problem.” 

“It ain’t a problem!” He grumbled, voice roaring hotly in his chest as he resheathed his knife and began to make his way out, repositioning his hat without glancing at you. You followed him, stopping short by the table as you didn’t want to stray too close to the fuming man.

“Well, it is since you are so angry about it?!” If this was how he carried out every conversation, you were glad the exchange of words wasn’t typical between you, more so the simple fact that your company had never seemed to bring him any enjoyment. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Wha-” He stops short, suddenly turning around and stalking towards you in significant strides. Gasping at suddenly having him so close, you backed away; his sharp eyes penetrated you as the warm blue of his orbs turned ice cold, glaring daggers into your own.

“What’s wrong with me?” He spoke dangerously low as his brows raised, grabbing your upper arms as he hoisted you up the table without an ounce of struggle. “I’m not the one taking every small, insignificant chance to take advantage of your good nature.”

“Charles’s not like that. He’s very kind.” You spoke in his defense, leaning back from his prolonged stare that seemed to cut through you deeper the more he stared. You had always pitied the people who got on Arthur’s lousy side, finding his presence at those times unnerving. 

Now, it seemed you were at the receiving end of it, and while it chilled you to the bones, you weren’t sure if your beating heart were because of fear or the thought of him being the closest to you he’d ever have.

You had never quite got to admire his eyes, always hidden under his furrowed brows and squinting eyes. Now that it wasn’t because of the blazing sun down west, it was from the blaring whiteness of the snow surrounding you as you found his eyes glaring at the current climate more often than not–displeased.

His eyes being dead set on you didn’t help as you could hear his breathing grow heavier, the warmth of his breath hitting your cold cheeks as his broad frame blocked the chilly winds from reaching you.

“Kind, huh?” Although momentarily distracted, you recovered as you heard him speak in a low voice, still finding his assumptions wildly out of reach while insulting you and Charles. Times were hard, and if you couldn’t look after one another, it would surely lead to your doom–Arthur, if anyone, should know that.

“Yes, kind.”

Rubbing his eyes with one hand, he backed away from you, shrugging his shoulders while walking away–like your conversation hadn’t happened in the first place.

“Sure.”

–

It wasn’t like Arthur didn’t know how to restrain himself, for he applauded himself for avoiding his apparent anger when Charles had, yet again, stolen away your attention–not that Arthur had any plans on striking up a conversation with you anyway. 

It became clear to him that when you two were left alone, you almost turned into a living statue, barely responding to him. It was unlike you, for the time he had spent observing you, you had no problem talking to anyone else–and although it was usually calm, it never deterred you from gaining the likes of the others and liking them in return.

Why did you cringe away from him and not Charles, he pondered, glaring at the picture that plagued his mind. The reason he knew, deep down, but his stubbornness didn’t let him justify your actions. In all honesty, Charles was a more reliable man than himself, intentions often apparent with a slight sense of, well, goodness perhaps—something Arthur didn’t possess in the slightest.

Goodness, in all honesty, wasn’t something he was too familiar with, and he didn’t doubt one second that you found his character to be callous, seeing as the dirty work no one wanted to do fell upon him; work everyone else found to be too cruel to do themselves. He could almost feel your disapproving gaze when he picked up his slack from Mr. Strauss’s poor victims that he always tried to prolong, and while it wasn’t his most favorable way of lending a hand, sometimes he did it out of spite. 

If that’s what you thought about him, then he couldn’t do much to sway your opinion, finding it much easier to continue with his ways than realize that your sudden carefulness off him wounded him more profoundly than he let on.

And, he was indeed a harsh man in your eyes, and although his company wasn’t entirely unwished for, he was still grim–ignoring your presence like you weren’t there most of the time. It made you wildly unsure of him, but the allure he had kept bringing you back, always wondering when you would see a glimpse of him again. You chastised yourself for it, more so now that you got a taste of his famously sullen mood that pestered everyone around him, but your eyes were still drawn to him when he was nearby. 

Maybe it wasn’t what everyone else would describe him as, but you thought of him as mysterious. Gods, you have stayed with this group for quite some time now. Not once had he spoken to you more than the standard greeting, and you didn’t know much about him besides the sharp-shooting, brutal force of a man who had no problem letting his thoughts be voiced, even though the listeners might be less inclined to its harsh deliverance.

He had been cruel, sure, but you couldn’t help but remember how close you had been before when he spewed words that clung so viciously from his tongue. Faintly, you remembered the deep scent of gunpowder and smoke, something you were certain probably penetrated his skin by now, but also the slightly musky scent hidden underneath. Your head raced in curiosity, wondering how his hands would grab you if it wasn’t in anger. Was he even capable of that, you pondered.

It’s ridiculous you knew those thoughts were born from misconceptions and assumptions. You had heard how he behaved amongst the camp women, forever gentle and careful, and you had sharpened your ear when you’d been told timidly about his earlier flings. He could be more heartfelt than your head let you acknowledge, and the thought made your head spin even more with your endless imagination.

Despite the inner turmoil that filled you from your earlier argument, you had avoided him for some days now, and it seemed to grow easier the colder you got, huddling close to the fire with every chance. It was the only thing keeping your thoughts occupied, wondering when you would get to leave this desolated mining town that grew more covered in snow the longer you chose to stay.

“Do you need help, Hosea?” Just after you spoke, heavy blankets were handed to you, the fabric made from a thick wool that looked heavenly. “Yes, thank you. I take one step outside; I fear that it will be the end of me.” You only stared warmly at Hosea, who patted you on the back. “Don’t you worry, miss. We found more blankets we thought had been lost in that dreadful storm, so we all will sleep warmer tonight.”

“Oh, of course, I’ll help-” Despite the whistling winds that had picked up as the sun shone its last tendrils, you didn’t oppose the idea, but you were interrupted by a mischievous look handed to you by the older man.

“Make sure Arthur grabs one, too; you know how he gets.” Before you could question his meaning, he slunk away, pulling the warm fabric tighter around his shoulders without a glance at you, chuckling merrily. You chose not to ponder too hard on his strange ways, instead making your way to the door, shivering badly as you stepped outside.

Smiles were all you were greeted with as you handed them off, and it was no surprise as it was a welcome sight to everyone to gain some extra warmth to wrap around themselves. Although feeling content by being of help, you couldn’t help but wonder where Arthur could be, a single blanket now left in your hands.

Grumbling to yourself, you stepped out from the hut Dutch and Molly resided in, glancing at a smaller building some paces away, finding the orange glow of a candle lighting up the smaller barn where the horses were kept. A small smile found you, finding it very fitting for him to be where there were fewer people. 

Although slightly fearing what could come to be an awkward encounter, you found yourself being too forgiving many times, and you damned yourself for it. What he said hurt you deeply, making you ponder if you had given Charles other signals than intended. It could be a possibility, yet you had never had too many romantic dealings with men to presume that that was the case, but his eyes held something tender the last few times you spoke as you recalled it.

“Arthur…” As you stepped inside after pulsing through the thick snow, you searched for the blue coat you had grown familiar with in this weather. “Are you here?” You asked quietly, wondering if he could hear you.

You cautiously stepped further into the barn, placing your feet steadily on the ground before you so you didn’t slip and embarrass yourself. It was friendly out here, you could admit, the snow muting every sound and almost making every slight sound caress your ears. 

As you stepped further inside, it turned out he was here, and he took no notice of you as you rounded the corner to gaze at his seated form, seemingly writing something in his journal. It was an unusual sight. Sometimes, you observed him as he wrote in his journal back at camp, yet you didn’t make a habit of it, too shy to question him at the time.

How he didn’t freeze to death in this climate was beyond you, his fingers bare as he scribbled, fingertips red from the cold and dirty from the chalk. You made a motion to speak up once again but found yourself tongue-tied as you took him in, and as you did, the thought struck you that he wasn’t writing but drawing.

How unlike him, you thought, watching his brows furrowed from time to time, fingers moving expertly while the soft glow of the candle beside him almost softened his features. Your presumptions might be harsh, but you had never found him to be a man well-versed in the creative aspect of life, and while the brutal ways of his life spoke for him, you found it to make him slightly more approachable. 

“I didn’t know you draw.” You stated fondly, his eyes fitting into yours the moment the first word left your mouth, growing visibly stressed as the journal was planted into his coat pocket. A rough cough left him as he did, eyes faltering when he saw your observant gaze linger on him unabashedly.

“I don’t.” A small laugh left you at his abrupt words, not teasingly but perhaps warmly, choosing not to bug him since he grew uncomfortable before your questioning eyes. 

You were given an expectant look that reminded you of your actual business here as you stepped inside the building, closing the barn door behind you to shut out the wind that somehow managed to find its way through the cracks in the walls. 

“Here, we found some more blankets. Hosea asked me to bring you one.” You met his eyes briefly as you stretched out your arms for him to take the blanket, eyes faltering to it at his piercing gaze.

“Hosea, huh?” A scoff left him, resuming his arms to cross over his chest, shaking his head slightly. “You keep it.”

“No, I-” 

“Nah, you chattering your teeth keeps us up at night. Take it.”

His words should have taken you back since his voice was stinging, but a light laugh left you, knowing he was right. Wrapping yourself in the soft, warm blanket, you surprised Arthur by sitting beside him, heavily clad shoulders touching each other as you did. 

“I don’t understand.” You stated, staring at the large shadows that flickered on the wooden wall before you. “How can you not be cold? I feel like if I spend one more day out here, I’ll freeze to death.”

You turned your head towards him, caught off guard when you felt his gaze already set intensely on you. Your eyes faltered to his chest, growing shy as you always did when you had his attention on you. It wasn’t unwanted, but you didn’t know what to do with yourself in moments like that, unused to the fire that always burned so deep in his eyes.

“Used to it, I guess.” His voice rumbled hotly in his chest, fingers flexing against his will as he took the chance to observe you. He had never had the opportunity to see your face this close. Your wet lashes clung together as you blinked, undoubtedly from the heavy snowfall outside, framing your eyes that Arthur always noticed were so very easy to read, yet at many moments also locked away.

“I don’t believe you.” How could anyone possibly get used to this? It was raw, pure torture. 

You didn’t get an answer, and as you returned your gaze towards the wall, Arthur’s eyes found your features again. He had indeed been cold before you came, but it was his only chance to find a moment of peace; the thought of spending another night in that god-forsaken hut with his dear friend and his lover giggling the night away grew incredibly distasteful.

Here, he could finally hear his thoughts, the solitude of the snow muting every sound heavenly; the only noise was the familiar scribbling in his journal as he wrote about the past few days. Though his head was calmer than before, he still dreamt of your fingers encasing his like they had done Charles, the small, elegant touches rising his arms slowly, making him shiver wildly as the scene flashed before his eyes. 

He knew he shouldn’t think of you like that, and he certainly had no right to be angry at Charles since he felt so unabashedly filthy things about you, but he couldn’t help it. Your every scent, every motion set his blood afire; small deeds of good you always found yourself doing so harshly contrasted his actions he couldn’t help the fact that you intrigued his whole being. 

So good, so… soft and warm. As he stared at you, all he wanted was to reach out and pull you closer to him so he could feel your shivering body close to him, knowing many ways to warm you up. Sighing, he removed his hat, running his fingers through his hair as the thoughts took a turn he always hated himself for.

“Hey, I uh…” Arthur trailed off, finding the words he wanted to speak stuck in his throat. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way, like I did back then.” He stared before him, yet he felt your eyes heavy on his.

He did feel bad, and it had been the reason for his brooding temper since then, not coming to terms with his wrongdoings until now. He had probably scared you, he concluded, and could only assume he was right as you had done your utmost to avoid him as of late.

“Don’t be,” you said with a light smile, not expecting his apology, even though he didn’t say sorry directly. “It’s a lot right now, I understand. But I still don’t understand why you’re so angry at Charles.” You were briefly met with a light sigh, eyes flickering to yours before diverting the flickering candle. 

“Nah, forget it. Just me being stupid is all.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid. Maybe you’re mean sometimes and grumpy,” you said, giving him a teasing glance. “But not stupid.”

A scoff left him at your words, yet you could see the corners of his mouth chirp up lightly. “You’d be surprised.”

As your snickering died down, you rested your head on the wall behind you, not wanting to leave the quiet comfort you found yourself in nor the conversation that panned on longer than you had anticipated, much to your surprise.

“Why are you out here if you are so cold, girl?” He questioned you, catching a glimpse of your almost blue lips. “Go on inside; you’ll freeze to death if you stay here.” It would be best for you to return because he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if his thoughts progressed like they did before in your presence. As he placed the hat on his head again, he glanced down quickly, doing a double take as he found you staring at him. 

Was the cold finally getting to your head, or was it simply being in the presence of the man you were so unsure of but wildly intrigued by? You couldn’t tell, but the warmth spreading in your stomach as he glanced down at you spread ferociously through your stomach, almost warming you to your fingertips. 

Suddenly, Arthur moved his arm slightly, and the motion made you jump, leaning away from him as you unconsciously drew closer to him. You couldn’t tell, but it almost felt like your body sometimes contradicted your mind, defying your sense of morality.

“Are you afraid of me?” He questioned, gazing at you unexplainably. Both of your breaths were audible in the quiet night, blowing like smoke out your mouths as the world around you blurred. It wasn’t like Arthur couldn’t contain himself around women, but you were something else entirely. Only in his wildest dreams did you stare at him like that, like you were expecting–waiting– for him to do something. 

Yet, you looked guarded, like a cornered lam, waiting for the right moment to sprint away. You pulled away, only to lean in further, the cogs in your head turning something so awful in your mind, observing his every move yet not registering your own that reached out to him.

And gods, did he want to do the same; his internal battle proved to be more difficult as your hand gripped his coat tightly, only wanting to warm your blue lips with his own and show you how he could warm you up better than Charles’s damned gloves ever could.

“Sometimes.” You let on, voice shaking from both anticipation and uncertainty.

Leaning down towards you hesitantly, he felt hot all over when he realized you didn’t shy away from him like expected, mouth only parting further as he drew closer. As you did, you felt your breath hitch when a hand was placed on your upper back, Arthur’s weight only making you glide further down the wall until your head was resting in the crook of his elbow.

“Arthur…” He was so close now you could almost feel his heartbeat through the vast amount of clothing, breath hitting your cold, blushing cheeks as he leaned closer, the calling of his name only drawing him in. He was sure you had bewitched him, for not a single thought in his mind was about anything but the woman in front of him, entirely and utterly overtaken by what was solely you.

And through those few moments between frustration and desperation, all senses of logic disappeared as the skin of your lips conjoined, drawn together like magnets that snapped together like they never wanted to be apart again. Eyes grew shut, the only sound now the deep humming in Arthur’s chest as your hands found his cheeks, caressing the chilly skin under your palm with your thumbs.

It was ragged and scarred, a deep contrast to your own that had never tasted the metal of a gun and the blood of a foe, and the thought made a gasp rise in your throat as his weight fell heavier onto yours, pressing you into the hay-filled, snowy ground. 

“Tell me to stop.” He grunted against your now wet lips, only taking a second before joining them again. He was covering your entire body as he lay above you, resting his weight on his elbows as your head rested on his arm. 

“No…” You mumbled, words almost not audible against his desperate mouth, feeling just as affected by the desire as he did. You felt his face scrunch up almost painfully before he took the hand that rested on your back to glide under your coat, resting it on the side of your waist as he stroked gently, feeling the curves that hid underneath the damned fabric.

It was torture. It was an unexplainable torture that you would freeze to death if he removed the clothes that covered you, and he would surely go insane if he couldn’t feel the skin he imagined would be so very soft under his rough fingers. Just a taste, he thought sinfully to himself, slowly lifting the fabric of your shirt from under your skirt’s waistband, worming a freezing hand inside to feel the warmth that hid underneath.

You gasped at the sudden sensation but were quickly silenced as his tongue massaged your own, and the slight moan that left you only made a groan rumble loudly in his chest. The feeling of his cold hand rose your skin, stroking every bit it came across as if memorizing it to his brain, mapping out every single inch. 

It was too much for you, the sheer desperation and want, not knowing what to do with yourself or how to dampen the intense feelings that nailed your firm to the ground. Every bit of you grew into static, and every touch from Arthur sent shockwaves through your body as his fingers caressed you.

“Come here.” Opening your eyes, you found his, although lidded with desire, gentle eyes gazing into yours, pulling his hand reluctantly from your waist to help you sit up. “I won’t let you lay on the ground.” 

You only stared at him as he seated you on his lap, chest flush against his as his hands stroked along your arms as if to warm you up, tightening the blanket around your shoulders. You felt your heartbeat pick up at his actions, your stomach fluttering fiercely as he ensured you stayed warm.

You could tell he grew wildly unsure as you remained silent, clearing his throat as if he had been in a daze before speaking. 

“If you’ll have me, that is.” You didn’t give him a chance to say more, hands finding sanction in his hair as the motion knocked off his hat, exposing the sandy locks he always kept hidden underneath it.

“Stupid question.” You mumbled softly against his mouth, pressing yourself closer to him as your fingers started fiddling with the buttons on his coat. You could already feel the heat emitting, and your fingers grew hasty as you tried to move faster, the motion of your lips faltering against his eager ones.

You would have been ashamed if it weren’t for Arthur being just as stressed about getting the buttons of your coat loose, hands wounding their way around your waist and pressing you closer to him the moment they became undone. Likewise, you wormed your arms under his shoulder, gasping as you felt the heat buried underneath the fabric, hugging him close as you placed your face into the crook of his neck. 

Breathing in your scent, Arthur revealed in the way you nuzzled against him, feeling a warmth spread in his groin when the thick coat didn’t keep the pressure of your middle away from him any longer. It was heaven, he concluded, trailing his hands down to your backside as he caressed the curves, pushing you flush against his.

Oh, how he reveled in it. He was selfish; there was no denying it any longer, but he craved you so profoundly it would eat him up bit by bit if he couldn’t have you. It wasn’t about Charles any longer; it was about the fact that you had never spared him a glance, almost bordering on fearing him, deciding that everyone else company had been much safer than his own. 

He knew it and had seen it in your eyes countless times. Arthur wasn’t unfamiliar with the look of utter horror plastered on people’s faces, for he faced it every day, and he wanted nothing more than to show you that you had no reason to feel that way with him, for he would never put a single finger that was unwished for on you.

And he couldn’t possibly hold it against you, for he wasn’t a good man, quite the opposite actually, and every lingering touch made him hate himself even more, wishing you would find it in you to push away from him–let him know that if he ever touched you again, you would kill him. 

But, he would find that you didn’t, instead only pressing yourself even harder against him in the cold of the night, breath shaking something so terribly as he moved your lower region against his in a gentle movement. It only fueled his want for you, hands struggling their way up your skirt, caressing your stocking-clad legs as he did, reaching your undergarments with a content sigh. 

His touch lighted a path up your legs, the cold nothing but a memory now even though the brisk air found its way underneath your skirt, following his hands that caressed your inner thighs in soft motions.

It was suspenseful, waiting for the skin to touch the skin, for his strong hands to wound around you as he had already wormed himself around your heart. And as he did, the coil in your stomach grew so incredibly tight you felt like it was too much like his touch alone wounded your every fiber, but instead of hurt, it was an undeniable pleasure that hit you tenfold.

The hand that had crawled its way inside your undergarments stroked alongside your tender parts, never touching you where you wanted him the most–the place that longed for his touch. He had to be teasing you; there was no other explanation as he smiled softly at your expression, gasping for air as you gripped the sides of his arms, trying to push against his fingers. 

“Ah, sweetheart.” He only cooed at you, gripping your wrists with one hand as his other finally glided over the wetness of your heat, gazing directly into your eyes with his sharp gaze, admiring your pleasure-filled face that begged him to give you more, to provide you with his all. And, as he spread your folds with his fingers, the filthiest whimper of pleasure left you, laying its noise into the quiet night with no worry about anyone hearing, only fools deciding to stray outside in this bleak, frigid night. 

Falling into his arms yet again, you let him enter a finger into your warm cavern, gasping desperately for air as the unfamiliar stretch widened you, dragging wonderfully against your clenching walls. It was vile, the way Arthur reveled in how tight you felt against his finger, and as he pondered on how you would feel when he pushed it you. The thought made a striking, white pleasure shoot through him, making him grunt out against your neck.

“That good?” He spoke out, adding another finger into you while placing wet, hot kisses against your blazing neck, wanting nothing more than to hear your heavenly sound of approval. 

You attempted to nod, but the motion was interrupted by the increasingly more extensive stretch from both of his fingers; gasping like a madwoman as you moved against his hands, wishing to pull his fingers even deeper into you, dissatisfied when you realized it didn’t do the job.

He could only groan when he realized your intention, slipping his coated finger from your warm heat, bringing them to his mouth quickly while his other hand found the zipper of his jeans, fumbling in a stressed fashion to get rid of the constraint.

A dissatisfied moan left you as he did, wishing for nothing more than to feel the delicious stretch yet again carry alongside your walls. But, as he fumbled with his zipper, you quickly got your senses together. You helped him undo his suspenders, then slipped underneath the fabric to trail your hand alongside the apparent bulge that stretched underneath, finding his groans to fuel your actions. 

For a short while, your eyes met amidst the hurry your bodies experienced, and the moment slowed down to a halt as your lips found each other once more, moving against one another like starved men. You couldn’t be closer to him, and he couldn’t possibly be closer to you, and while you earlier had pondered that this was a good idea, you couldn’t imagine anything else at this moment.

And, as your hand wrapped around him momentarily, Arthur could feel his brain’s short circuit, like he had never been able to hold a single thought in his mind his entire life. You had to have bewitched him, for he complied to your every touch, body moving against your every move like your hand was glued to his body.

“God,” he mumbled against your lips that massaged his own, thrusting against your hand as you stroked him tenderly, gasping against him quietly. It wasn’t hurried but warm and slow, basking in each other’s presence like you had never before discovered the feeling of another’s touch against your own.

“That good?” You replied teasingly, mimicking his earlier words as you smiled a toothy smile, feeling him chuckle lowly at your apparent teasing, giving you a playful slap on your behind as his breathing picked up.

Suddenly, you felt a hand encase your own. As he removed it from his throbbing member, he only grabbed you closer, wounding his arms around your back as he pulled you into a hug, the feeling of him underneath you wonderful as you glided along it–moaning wantonly as the friction shot sharp streaks of pleasure up your body.

“Come on, sweetheart. I’ll warm you up.” As he spoke, he could feel himself shudder as your wet lips encased his tip, groaning audibly as he thought you rubbing against him. You were illegal, he concluded, for nothing could ever be allowed to feel this good–it wasn’t possible.

“Please,” you gasped against his lips, moving your hips slightly as you felt his hands circle your waist. “Please, Arthur.” 

He hushed you quietly, finally feeling you wrap your lips around him as he slowly entered your warm cavern, the walls fitting him snugly as a grunt left him unexpectedly, lost in the pleasure you brought him. 

While it felt too good to imagine, you could only keep your mouth open at the sensation, wondering how something could ever fill you up quite as good as this. Without a single thought, you sat down entirely, feeling him stretch you wonderfully as you wrapped around all of him, wounding your hands around his neck. 

You didn’t need to move much, for he thrust up into you when you had gotten used to his size, feeling yourself being hitched up to his body as the motion made your whole body rise to then fall back down on him, once more filled to the brim. His grunting in your ears filled your senses, and while the slight consciousness entered your mind, wondering what you were doing, you pushed it far back, relishing in how your body responded to his.

Despite the cold that was surely creeping into your bones the more you stayed out here, the sound of skin against skin filling the empty spaces around you made you feel more connected to each other than you had ever felt with anyone else. 

You started to move with him, bringing down your hips to meet his while he thrusts into you, growing more desperate by the minute. You found the hands hugging your waist, circling their arms around it, pushing you even further against him as you rested your hands on his cheeks, having no choice but to stare into his lidded eyes as he grunted roughly underneath you. 

God, how he wanted to push you down onto the ground and drive into you, damning the snow that covered the ground. Instead, he glided down further from the wall, feeling your weight press against him more as your head found sanction in his neck, feeling his thrusts grow more in power as he pistoned into you harder from the new position.

“Arthur.” You breathed out, feeling the stretch of him grow as the position made him reach even deeper inside you, one arm reaching down to grab your bottom so he could hold you firmer against him.

“I know, honey.” He murmured, head growing dizzy as you clenched around him so wonderfully, mewling sweetly into his ears as you let him take control. 

Did it make him an evil man for reveling in what he knew Charles would never gain from you? Maybe it did, but those thoughts were placed far back in his mind as your lips found his, small moans now muted as you grew desperate for his affection, growing insatiable to once more feel the fondness that laid in his every touch.

He had been so angry that someone else had gained the courage to do what he couldn’t, realizing he had been too late. Yet now, as you remain unknowing above him, it only made his lips plant themself firmer against yours, determined to make you understand that nobody could make you feel this way except him.

Grabbing the blanket off your shoulders, he threw it down towards the ground as you gasped, stroking your waist tenderly before slowing his movements. 

Your breath heaved something so terrible, your voice shaking as you spoke. “Don’t stop, Arthur. Please.” He felt his stomach coil at your words, throbbing inside you as he moved to a seated position.

“I ain’t stopping, sweetheart,” he let on, leaning you backwards lightly. “Lay back for me, okay?” You did as he said without a protest, the cold now gone as your legs spread from him.

He almost groaned from the sight, taking a moment to observe you as you stared at him through lidded eyes, blushed cheeks so wonderfully red against the whiteness of the snow you almost looked like an angel–your hair spread like a halo around your head where you laid on the blanket.

Crawling over you quickly, he grunted as he felt your hand encasing itself around him, stroking slowly as you guided it to your clenching hole. For a moment, he felt a relief spread through him at the feeling of your walls surrounding him before the sheer and utter desperation set in, beginning to move into you at a faster pace than before. 

Your breath hitched at the sudden movement, yet you gripped his arms to keep him there, not baring the thought of him stopping again. Being over you gave him more control, and his primal instincts set in as the coil in his stomach shot burning flashes throughout his body, wanting nothing more than to feel your warm walls around him forever. Maybe it was the desire talking, but he swore that the thought of you being like this with any other man than him would make him heave.

Encasing his arms around you as your hands found his hair, he felt your legs wrap around his waist, now so close he was grounding into you relentlessly. Rough yet tender, he moved into you with care, but you could feel that he was holding back as he panted above you.

“Don’t stop!” You begged him once more amidst his thrusts, pulling on his strands as his lips found the softness of your neck. Why you were begging, you couldn’t say, oblivious to the words leaving your mouth in utter bliss.

“Hm?” He mumbled, smiling lightly from hearing your ruined voice beg him. He felt like a sick man gaining pleasure from it, but his mind was too hazy to take notice, longing to hear those words leave your sweet mouth once more. “What was that?”

“Don’t stop,” you voiced breathlessly as his hand found your breast, rolling the nub softly between his rough fingers. Despite your begging, for his own sickly twisted pleasure his hips ceased their movements, moving torturously slow as he raised his elbows to stare at your tear-filled eyes.

They shot open as he slowed his pace, displeased he didn’t listen as you already felt shameful for sounding so desperate. You couldn’t help it, for it felt too good, and now that he had stopped, you wished he never had. Was he teasing you? The thought made you blush from embarrassment and annoyance, pleading with your eyes.

“No…” You mumbled, trying to move against him, yet his hands held you firm against the ground.

“Say it.” Arthur’s voice was coarse as he spoke, grabbing your hand to place tender kisses on it as your displeased sounds reached his ears. He only got a confused look, smirking slightly at the longing and apparent dissatisfaction plastered on your face. A biting shadowed lust replaced his usually sharp eyes as he watched you, carnal written deeply in his eyes.

“My name, sweetheart. Let me hear you say it.” Suddenly, he pistoned his hips against you, driving up your wet walls as a mewl left you from the sudden force. You felt his intense eyes on you as your eyes shut momentarily, and through your blurred vision, they didn’t stay open for long.

“Arthur,” you moaned, eye-rolling into the back of your head as your back arched, a wave of pleasure shooting through you at his demands. He held the same controlled yet sensual pace, knowing he’d slip out of you if he went any harder. Still, his accuracy was wicked–hitting the right spot with every move.

“That’s it,” he praised you, placing another kiss on your palm as his thrusts increased, grunting roughly as your walls squeezed him tightly. You break into sobs as you reach out to grasp his arms, tilting his head up just enough to let you know he’s watching you, his hazy gaze roving over the devastation on your face. 

The snow around you mutes the sound of skin hitting skin as he sets a brutal pace. “I didn’t tell you to stop, sweetheart.” The deep rumble in his chest as he spoke the words laced with possessiveness made your heartbeat pick up faster than it already was, the light ringing in your ears increasing as your body was hoisted up with each of his thrusts.

You call his name like a prayer amidst the pleasure, and satisfaction at hearing his name come so sinfully from your mouth made his eyes roll back, knuckles turning white from gripping the ground so harshly. Oh, you had no idea that every noise you let out from his advances made his heart soar with pride, feeling the softness of your skin under the palm of his hands.

Arthur feels the abrupt stop of movements from your hand, gripping tightly on his arms as you spasm around his cock, clenching tightly as the pads of his fingers come down to rub at your swollen nub as your orgasmed, a loud whine leaving you at the contact. It’s too much for you, the sensation too unfamiliar yet devastatingly addictive–not knowing if you wanted to drive your hips away from his brutal assault or enjoy him even more profoundly. 

Even if you had decided on the prior, he didn’t let you, pushing you firm against the ground as he twitched inside you at the noises you let out, groaning lowly as he came inside your warm walls, planting himself deep inside you. 

“Christ-” He grunts out, teeth clenched as you feel his cock throb inside you, cum gathering at the base of him as his hips slow to deep thrusts, grinding into you in sheer pleasure as the knot in his stomach unleashed, feeling you placing small kissed on his neck.

The slight motion made him smile amidst his pleasure-filled mind, caressing the curves of your waist as he nestled his head into your neck, still panting heavily. As you both calmed down, it didn’t take long for your hand to find his, fingers wounding themselves around the others in the blissful aftermath.

As you opened your eyes after catching your breath, you found a pair of blue ones already gazing at you. You didn’t speak for a while, both of you trying to digest the situation as tiny snowflakes could be seen falling from the sky through the cracks in the walls. It reminded you of how cold you should have been, but with Arthurs’s broad chest covering you, it felt like you were clinging to a furnace.

“Shit, you must be freezing.” He suddenly let out, shaking his head slightly as if in a daze before rising to pull you with him. As he pulled your skirt down your legs, rubbing them between his hands to warm you up, you could only stare at him in quiet wonder.

“What?” He grumbled out, sniveling lightly as he glanced at you. Had you not wanted this, he wondered, doubt starting to fill his mind. You were too quiet for his liking, only staring at him as he tried to prolong touching your soft skin, fearful of the hurtful words that were sure to come. 

“Are you jealous of Charles?” 

If crickets had been this far north, they would surely be the only thing audible as Arthur stopped. Bear of a man, hardy and stubborn to many, yet a faint blush could be seen rising to his cheeks as his face lowered–wishing so dearly he could find his hat that had seemingly disappeared so he could hide.

If he had been looking at you, he would have seen the toothy smile covering your face, a tender laugh leaving you as your assumptions became reality. You had to give him credit, though, for he had you completely and utterly fooled. 

“No.” He stated firmly, rising on his legs to pull up his pants. He found himself unable to, though, your hand grabbing his suspenders to pull him back down. The same heat that had lessened in his stomach came back as he felt your nimble touch caress him through his pants, gaining a mischievous look from you as you widened your legs. 

“Don’t worry, Arthur. I’ll give Charles his gloves back if you stay here and keep me warm.” 

Oh dear, that would do it. Whatever thoughts that filled his mind flew out the window, wholly consumed by you as your hands caressed his back, staring expectantly up at him. 

“Only me, right?”

“Only you, stupid.”

[suiana]

(yandere! polar bear hybrid x gn! reader) (CW: slight gore description/murder description)

if it's brown, lay down.

if it's black, fight back.

and if it's white, say goodnight.

especially if it's a male hybrid who developed an infatuation with you.

"shit shit shit! get away!"

you scream at the polar bear hybrid, running away as fast as you can. your lungs burn, chest heaving as you hear the male hybrid chase after you.

you were a researcher sent to antarctica to research about the wild life and how they coped with climate change. you saw arctic foxes, penguins, seals, all of which you were ecstatic to see. they eere just the cutest after all!

unfortunately, you had also garnered the attention of a polar bear hybrid.

you knew that polar bears were carnivores. you knew that it was dangerous. but you were curious about him, especially because he looked friendly. you should've turned your back on him and ran away when you had the chance.

you first met him a few months back when you were observing some seal hybrids that came up to land to bounce about. he was standing a few feet away from you, your eyes wide as you felt your heart freeze up.

you had thought you were going to die that day. after all, meeting a polar bear was not a coincidence. not with their keen sense of smell and their history with hunting humans down.

but you saw him outstretch his hands towards you, holding a fish as his cheeks flush red, trying to communicate with you with random sounds.

"for me?"

"n...ngh..."

he nods his head, trying to nudge the fish towards you. you were hesitant to accept, but you eventually did. which led to you two talking often, growing closer and closer by the day.

you had taught him english, basic english at the very least so you two could communicate. he was eager to learn, listening intently. and in return, he taught you about himself and his way of life. much was gained from your exchanges with one another.

you found him endearing with how he always chirped and repeated your words, english rolling off his tongue with a heavy accent. you thought it was cute for him to call you 'his' and for him to say he loved you.

rightn he was just testing out new words! perhaps he found it interesting to say and repeat like a newborn child! that's normal, isn't it?

"love... love. mine."

"yeah, you love me, don't you?"

you tease, bumping his shoulder as you teach him a few new phrases, not noticing the faint blush he always had on his ethereal features. he probably meant it in a joking or friendly manner after all.

little did you know, he was not joking when he constantly told you he that he loved you.

nor did you remember that he was still a hunter at heart.

"a-ah!"

screams of pain awoke you from your deep slumber that fateful night. you immediately sit up in your bed, looking around before quickly wearing your thick coat and venturing out of the research base. what was that shouting? did your fellow researchers see something crazy?

well, you definitely did.

and it was a horrific sight. the sight of your polar bear friend ripping one of your researchers to shreds, scarlet blood staining his skin as he rips the poor guy to pieces. that's not even the worst part, for you saw two of your other team members laying not too far from the polar bear hybrid, bodies unoving and mangled beyong recognition.

you instinctively let out a scream at the sight, eyes widening as you bolt out of the base. your heart thumped loudly with each step you took, tears brimming at your eyes as you hear the polar bear hybrid chasing after you.

was he hungry? did he finally decide that he was going to kill you?

no, it was a fate far worse than that. and you finally realized that as the weight of what he called you hits you hard.

"mate! no run!"

he shouts at you, chasing after you on all fours as you run away as fast as your human body would allow you to. adrenaline ran through your body as you did your best to escape nature's natural hunter. but it wasn't enough.

"shit shit shit! get away from me!"

you shout, whimpering as you trip on your laces, falling face forward into the cold snow. you immediately try getting back up to run away. but by the time you pushed yourself up, the hybrid was already standing over you, eyes filled with an expression you wished would not exist.

obsession.

"mate... mate... scared? no need scared... no hurt mate."

he mumbles gently, face softening as he bends down beside you to rub your cheek reasuringly. but it was hard to be reassured with how his mouth and body was stained with your team members blood.

"n-no don't touch me! you're going to kill me too aren't you?!"

you shout, shivering as you try backing away from him. your words cause the hybrid to pause, his sharp eyes narrowing at you as his grip on your face tightens ever so slightly.

"said... won't hurt mate. no scared."

he mumbles, staring at you before pressing his forehead against yours.

"only get rid of trash."

he sighs happily, looking at you with adoring eyes before rubbing your cheek with his thumb.

trash?

your heart stopped at his words, realization settling in. shit, so he wasn't lying when he said he loved you, nor when he was saying he only wanted you to himself.

you could've prevented this.

you.

could've.

prevented.

this.

guilt seeps into your veins, tears finally rolling down your cheeks as you let the polar bear hybrid cradle your body in his arms.

"no... you didn't have to kill them-"

you sob, weakly wiping away your tears as the male tilts his head at you. confused, he doesn't understand why you eere crying or why you wished for him to not killyour teammates. why was his mate so sad? he should probably cheer you up!

"mate no cry... why? was... going to eat them since start. was watching you since the start. hate the way you always go back to... them. mate is mine since then. since mate... take offering."

the male hybrid says in an attempt to reassure you. but obviously, it did the opposite of just that.

oh. so he really was watching you since the beginning. that offering with the fish wasn't just him being curious. did he fall for you at first sight? shit, you knew you should've just ran away at the sight of him!

"the fish was an offering?"

"yes. offering for mate."

he nods his head, smiling slightly as he reminisces his first actual meeting with you. after all, he had been observing you for quite a bit before that. he just finally got the courage to meet you that day! and you accepted! unknowingly of course.

you look away from the hybrid, shaking slightly as some of the guilt leaves your system. ah, so maybe this wasn't fully your failt. you couldn't have predicted that it was actually an offering, could you?

"bring mate home now. mate tired."

the polar bear hybrid hums, goving you a bloody smile as he stands back up, cradling you in his arms. but you start flailing about, squirming as fear enters your mind. wait what? home? were you getting kidnapped by him?

the male says nothing for a bit continuing to walk back in the direction of his home. but as you continue to struggle and shout at him to be let go, his patience grows thin and he looks down at you with a warning look.

"stop moving."

he grumbles, glaring at you as he grips you tightly. blood drips down onto your face as he talks, your eyes widening in fear before you quietly obey not wanting to upset him.

no, you were just reminded of how brutal he could be. and you didn't want to be at the end of his anger. not at all.

the both of you remain quiet for a bit, the only sounds being heard were the sounds of his feet coming into contact with the snow with every step he took. thatw as until he broke the silence.

"love mate. mate so precious."

the hybrid mumbles, looking down at you with a longing expression before he sighs softly.

"mate mine now. all mine."

he giggles, cradling you closer to him before stopping in front of an igloo looking thing. was this his home? you weren't sure, but seeing as he was staring at it, it most likely is.

"temporary home. will build mate nicer house soon."

he mutters, placing you down on a makeshift bed made using... what looked like seal and fox fur.

you sit uncomfortably on the fur, not moving as the hybrid sits down beside you, holding you close to him. silence fills the air as he looks at you fondly, not saying anything at all.

he leans his head against you, rubbing your hand affectionately before sighing again.

"love forever. only us."

he mutters before pressing a blood stained kiss onto the back of your hand. you could only stare quietly, unsure of what to say. on one hand, you didn't love him. i mean he's not even fully human! but on the other hand... you didn't want to trigger his anger by trying to escape or refuse him.

oh well, you guess this is your new life now.

[seyoonlgc]

"Allergic my ass."

No, Yubin, that wasn't going to work. Nice try though, A for effort. Seyoon would have attempted to believe you if you weren't the one to propose this outing in the first place to confront your fear of dogs. If you were actually allergic, the request would have been hey, want to come and witness my death? It could be fun!

To be fair, Seyoon would have still agreed because he has a lot of inner chaos.

"Right, he's in the hwarang, you are a lowly scribe and I am the fricking king." Seyoon decided to forcibly insert himself into this fanfiction Yubin was writing between himself and the dog. "Now, do as you are told, peasant." He touched one of Marshmallow's softly padded paws to Yubin's knee. "Your Majesty orders you to obey!" Seyoon was having way too much fun with this scenario.

A cafe staff approached, looking slightly hesitant to interrupt what was happening here, but also had a job to do. She offered them a container of treats, which Marshmallow barked excitedly at. "What a good boy," Seyoon cooed, accepting the treats from the staff after thanking her. Taking the container meant he had to let go of Yubin's shoulder, but not to worry, he wasn't going to give his buddy a chance to escape. Using both of his legs, Seyoon trapped one of Yubin's rather tightly to prove he'd been doing more than just arm days at the gym.

"Take a treat and feed Marshmallow," Seyoon demanded, giving the container a little shake to prompt Yubin. That might have been a bit of a mistake because the other doggos in the cafe heard the sound and started crowding over. They all wanted treats, they were all good boys, so why should Marshmallow be the only one to eat?

he's about to choke out a half-hearted remark on how seyoon must be diligent about arm day—because before yubin knows it, he's being physically dragged into the place where he will certainly breathe his last breath.

on any other day, he may have shown stronger signs of resistance, but it's almost as though the strength has left his body. like a limp doll, he allows himself to be dragged, the gears in his head turning and clinking and clanking so loudly that he can't even process the disappointed murmurs of the crowd of girls that'd been spectating them.

"seyoon," yubin manages to choke out, his heels finally beginning to dig into the ground as he comes to his senses (it's too late, it's always too late). "seyoon, hey, seyoon—"

if kim yubin has learned anything about his formative years, it's that no matter how hard he tries to romanticize the growing pains, they'll never be as poetic as he wants them to be. he's no timothee chalamet, for one—and no matter how desperately he pretends there's a say sue me track playing in the background as seyoon resolutely and determinedly drags him to meet his fate, the imaginary music in his head will never be loud enough to drown out the rapid THUMPTHUMP THUMP!!!! of his heart when he makes eye contact with a dog.

oh, wait. how absolutely rude of him.

with "marshmallow."

"do i want to pet him," yubin echoes, backing up as much as possible with each centimeter that seyoon (and marshmallow) draw nearer. "do i look like i want to pet him right now? you know! what! i don't think he even likes me. i literally think in a past life i might have betrayed him or something. i'm picturing joseon dynasty, he's in the hwarang and i'm like a lowly scribe who—"

why is he writing a fanfiction about himself? about a dog?

yubin clears his throat.

"i can't. i'll die. i'm allergic."

[parfaitblogs]

can I ask a blurb of post prison spencer and sunshine reader? She works in the BAU as the media liaison and when she rescues him in the episode 300 he looks at her and is like angel? Am I in Heaven?

spencer reid x sunshine!reader. fluff/hurt/comfort. also angst if you squint. i should’ve just slapped smut in here to make it a quinfecta! 0.5k words. gn!liaison!reader. set during '300'.

a/n: thank you for sending me back into orbit by getting me to rewatch those two episodes. i need spencer reid biblically. unfortunately that's not what this blurb is about. but i was audibly barking every time i pictured him. i am terribly sorry for keeping you on edge about when this was going to be posted </3 i wasn’t sure how happy i was with it for the longest time. thank u for the request ♡

spencer reid who accepted his fate the second he was taken hostage. because honestly, the likelihood of his team finding and rescuing him in time was slim to none, and he had lost wars to hope too many times before.

spencer reid who tried to stall his death with a speech, trying to dull the uncomfortable ache in his chest thinking nobody was coming to save him. maybe he could lie his way into believing his team had found him, and he would picture their faces before he inevitably died.

spencer reid who definitely did not expect the awfully loud gunshot — one, then two — ringing throughout the air, followed by panic and yelling. who wished he could've been relieved to see each face of his team slowly appearing in his view, followed by more gunshots, and the promise that he was safe.

he had already accepted death. 

but, spencer reid who's entire facade changed the second you came into view. no gun in hand, because you never were expected to need one, which was even more horrifying to him than the fact that he had been milliseconds away from his own death.

spencer reid who stared at you like he was but a planet and you were the sun he was orbiting, something he knew he'd get teased for later. but right now you were here and he was watching you attempt to unbuckle each leather strap holding his limbs into place, strained laughter escaping him every time you failed because your hands were shaking so hard.

spencer reid who's face fell when you finally met his gaze to get the leather strap holding his head in place, and he could see the tears brimming your eyes and he could hear the sniffles you were intaking to keep your emotions at bay. an achingly painful contrast to the facade he was used to seeing on you.

spencer reid who asked "what's wrong?" and who's heart ached when your response was "i thought i was going to lose you". spencer reid who's heart probably shouldn't have then stuttered like that in his chest at your admission, and he definitely shouldn't have allowed the rush of hope at your words.

but, worse than that, he realised he had accepted his death without thinking, and if he died, he was leaving you and perhaps that was worse than any situation he has been in before, in all fifteen years he's at the bureau.

and you, who's vision was awful from the tears you were attempting to keep at bay, yet you stared at him for a beat, taking in every graze and bruise on his face the best you could to commit them to memory, before wrapping both arms around him and pulling him into you. spencer reid who sobbed in your arms; a scenario you had never even considered the possibility of because spencer reid did not cry anymore, and prison had fractured him in ways you cannot even begin to comprehend. but he was here, and he was crying again, and sad sight or not, he was feeling.

spencer reid who thanked you over and over again for finding him, because no, he really didn't want to die. 

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

[writingredrose]

the nightmare before our love story | Skully J Graves x reader

summary : being stuck in another world isn't new for you, but it seems you've found someone who perhaps truly understands you

warnings : reader is known to be Yuu

fic type : fluff and maybe a bit of angst

a / n : MAN I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS NEW EVENT!! I hope I get Skully's personality right! ( I put a reference there. Good luck on finding it! It's pretty easy <3 ) Also I would like to mention that I started making this while I was watching part two and going into part three of the event. So it may be a bit rusty on the edges

HAPPY HALLOWEEN 🎃

This is Halloween.... This is what Halloween is about...

Yes, indeed, that's what the magic of Halloween is all about

The night was quiet in Halloween City. Out there, in the City Hall, some people were arguing over meaningless things.

“This was supposed to be teamwork... what's happening?„ “Your friends have a lot of energy.. don't they?„ On a bench not too far away from the arguing houswardens, you, Skully and Jack were staying in a little group. Unfortunately not even Grim could escape from the complaints of the houswardens. The mayor too was clearly angry at everyone's stubbornness but it seems even he couldn't stop everyone.

“ I wouldn't expect much from them. I've gone to that school enough to know they're hopeless„ You sighed and let yourself numb on the wooden bench. “I miss my dorm mates, man„

A pair of orange eyes looked at you from under a pair of black glasses. “How lovely! Truly! You too have companions in your dorm?„ You smiled at Skully brightly. “Yeah! They're an amazing company, it's fun to be around them, even if there are only 5 of us!„ “How wonderful!„ “I would've loved to meet your companions too, Y/N! If they are as you say, it would've been a blast working with them” Jack Skellington smiled at you from above, you could tell he was thinking about how it would've been to meet them. You smiled and looked back at the others in front of the stage. Still arguing... What could be done..? You wanted to get up and try to get them to shut up, but the mayor himself decided to do it for you. “EVERYONE SHUT UP!” You heard a quiet laugh from next to you, of course it was none other than Skully, you could tell by the way his hand was covering his mouth. “Can we not argue at least today? We need to finish the Halloween preparations in these 3 days!„ “Yes yes! I promise I shall do another lottery tomorrow, until then, please do your best to work together„ The Houswardens looked at each other. Vil gave a long sigh. “We don't have a choice do we?“ Shaking his head, he accepted his fate as well as the others. “How troublesome..„ Jack whispered before going out of the city hall, quickly followed by Skully and you, Grim too, quickly jumping on your shoulder to accompany you outside.

What a day, what a day... As expected the teams made absolutely no progress. The mayor was mad, Jack was worried, and Skully...well, he's trying to get people to try his ideas but it seems like it's not working as well as he wants to.

The day has finally come to an end. Even if no progress was made, you and the others were able to accommodate more with Halloween town. Except, there may be one problem. “And where exactly should we sleep„ Sebek was the one to disturb the silence. Now that you're thinking about it, you really didn't think about the sleeping problems. “My, I haven't thought about that at all! Hm, well my house can't possibly fit all of you...Ah yes! There are plenty of open graves for you to use!„ Did he just say graves? “Uh no thank you, we're fine sleeping somewhere else„ “Oh! I'm pretty sure I can find someone that has enough space under their bed for you all! Or perhaps a cozy coffin I can borrow from a vampire!” Well, Jack clearly seems to have some... interesting ideas “I'm sorry under a what now?“ “No way, sleeping in a coffin is definitely not for me!“ “How about sleeping in the hall?„ Jamil was the first to propose the idea. Sleeping in a city hall didn't seem that bad. Beats sleeping in someone's wall. “Are you kids sure? I simply cannot let you sleep in such an uncomfortable place! You are our guests after all„ “Oh no, we insist! We will be just alright!“ “Well, if you say so, I can't be the one to oppose the idea“

It all started when you and the others found a mysterious book lying in the middle of the market. Initially, you planned not to open it, but Grim, being the little curious furball he is, opened it without thinking at all. And here you are, in Halloween Town, with a bunch of different monsters and Jack, who to you seems very familiar for some reason. In the forest you've woken up, you also found Skully, who in your eyes was a very nice guy. He was a gentleman, and seemed to respect every one of you, even if the others made fun of him a lot. Skully also seemed to pay attention to you the most, asking about your opinions ( even if they're not needed ), asking for advice and just being there with you. You can't lie and say you haven't been thinking about taking him back at NRC. The headmage owes you a lot after all. You just hope you'll be able too. After all, he looks like he needs some good company.

You're not sure what woke you up, the uncomfortable feeling of the wood bench you were sitting on, or the shuffling and steps close to you. You slowly opened your eyes and looked around, not much to see in the dark, but you spotted a tall figure opening the door of the hall and going out. Skully..? You thought. Why is he awake at such an hour? You silently got up and started walking to the door as to not wake up Grim and the others. You slowly opened the door and the cold weather greeted you. Looking up at the sky, the light of the full moon greeted you, like saying good morning. You were thinking it's morning, since the cold air was the first thing to hit you when opening the City Hall's door and your black patchworked suit wasn't a very good shield against it. You looked around searching for Skully's figure, and you quickly spotted him going out the town's gate.

You picked up your pace, the city was quiet so your call wasn't unheard by the boy. “Skully, wait up!„ He quickly turned around and spotted you, you couldn't miss the way his eyes lit up and his lips that were in a straight line were now a happy smile. “Ah Y/N! What a nice surprise! What are you doing here? I recall you being asleep„ You stopped next to him, catching your breath. “I heard you going out and I got worried something happened, so I came to see if you're ok„ You've never seen Skully smile so brightly. Your gesture made him happy beyond belief, to think someone as kind as you cared enough to check on him warms his heart. Skully put his hands on his chest, gesturing how happy he was. “Ah! To think you went all the way here to check on me! It really warms up my heart! My dear friend your kindness is unmatched!„ You left out a giggle at his compliments. No one really gave you such compliments, not here and rarely at home, you can't help but blush a little at Skully's devoted compliments. You caught him bowing again, catching your hand in his and placing a kiss on the back of it. Now this was one of the things that truly made you a red blushing mess. “Ah.. there's no need for that... it's ehm, it's nothing really, it's what friends do!„ He looked at you and laughed. “Nonsense! I have to show my gratitude no? Now! — Skully slapped his hands together, closing his eyes — how about you join me on my walk?“ “Your walk?“ “Indeed! I was planning on going on the spiral hill to take a better view of the endless field bathing in the moonlight! It's a once in a lifetime experience and I can't miss it! Would you like to come with?„ He extended his hand for you to take, and how could you possibly refuse?

The truth was that what you experienced when you first met Skully was love at first sight. And then your love grew bigger with every care he showed you.

So you took his hand and he slowly guided you to the hill. The silence between you was comfortable, you could hear your loud heartbeat while walking and you were almost 100% sure it would pop out of your chest.

Both of you made your way on the hill and sat close to the edge of it, enjoying the now slightly warmer breeze that the wind offered you.“Beautiful isn't it? I've been dreaming of coming here for so long! To finally see Mr. Jack and the Halloween Town! It's a dream come true!„ You smiled at his statement, but as soon as you looked back at him, his face quickly turned into a frown. “Something tells me this isn't all you want to say“ He looked at you, your cheeks having a pink tint to them after noticing the light in his eyes when he looked at you, and you only. “My dearest friend, can you keep a secret?„ You nodded smiling, whatever he had on his mind, you'll keep it secluded, close to your heart. “The truth is, that I am quite disappointed. Mr Jack is not how I imagined him to be. He wants Halloween to be happy, lively, with people to celebrate with. But that's... THAT'S JUST ABSOLUTE BULLSHIT„ You slightly jumped at Skully's screaming. Is this how he usually is? “Music and dancing, bright colors? NO! That's not how it's supposed to be! Halloween is a nightmare! Halloween is a dream! It's scary! This is Halloween! That is Halloween!„ Skully clenched his fists and looked ahead, eyes full of pure fury. “If Mr Jack cannot understand that, maybe I'll have to take matters into my own hands„ Looking back at Skully, you understood that more than all, he was disappointed that he was let down, you understood his feelings, you understood them well.

Without thinking, you put your hand on his, reassuring him silently. Skully jumped a little at the contact, his hand stiff, but quickly relaxing under your touch. He looked at you, an expression of shock and adoration. “Ah, I apologize my friend. I don't know what happened for me to raise my voice like that. Oh no no, Mr Jack is a gentleman, he definitely wouldn't like me acting like this„ He slowly turned his hand so that he could interlock your fingers with his. He looked at your hands, a visible pink blush peaking from behind his glasses. “Thank you, for being here for me my friend. Your companions laugh at me, calling me names, but you, you aren't like them. You understand me, and I appreciate that more than you think„ You smiled at his confession, thinking about the thoughts you had earlier today. “Skully, when...when we get out of here, I..I can try and get you enrolled in the school I'm staying at. I'm sure that my dorm will welcome you with open arms. No one to make fun of you. I'm sure you'll fit amazing„ The white haired boy looked at you with hope in his eyes. He thought that maybe, just maybe, he can be with the one whom he loved so much from the start. He looked at you with a hopeful smile. “It would be lovely! I must say I'm very curious about your friends out there. The thought of staying with you makes me jump in excitement„

You laughed at his antics, and looking back at him simply made your heart beat faster and faster. Skully seemed to think the same, because slowly and quickly at the same time, both of you found yourselves closing the distance between you. Stopping just as your lips barely touched, Skully looked at you one more time, searching in your eyes for any sort of hesitance, once he saw the soft glint in your eyes, he put a hand around your waist at the same time you put one of your hands on his cheek and finally closed the distance between you.

The kiss was enough for both of you, because you put all your feelings about each other in it. So many unspoken words were now spoken through a simple kiss, a kiss that none of you will ever forget. The hands that had your fingers interlocked had never quite loosened their grip, now gripping tighter at it, as if one of you thought the other would disappear if you'd dare to let go. You broke the kiss in need of air, you and Skully still being caught in the blissful moment, went for another one, and another. While the dim light of the moon seemed to illuminate only the two of you as if supporting your confession.

After what seemed like an eternity, you both stopped, both your faces red, looking at each other with only adoration and love being present in your eyes. Skully and you got up still holding your hands in his. Then unexpectedly, he gripped your waist and twirled you around. You couldn't help but laugh at the action. Even after stopping, he held you in his arms, kissing both your knuckles and looking at you. “My love for you goes beyond the moon, Y/N. I love you and adore you like no other„ You kissed him again, your hands coming behind his neck.

“And my love for you, Skully, goes beyond this world, Twisted Wonderland, and my very own, I love you so much, like no other person I've loved in my life„ He let out a laugh, kissing you again and again, making you giggle. He took your hands and started dancing with you, slowly, while humming a melody.

Both of you were happy, so happy. And you were sure, you were sure that even after getting out of here, you'd find each other again, the devotion and love for each other guiding you in the form of a beautiful red string, making sure you'll never forget.

BONUS :

Meanwhile in the city hall ...

“Hey, where is my henchhuman??„ Jamil and Vil looked around. “Huh, now that I think about it, I haven't seen the Prefect when I woke up„ “Indeed, and Skully too, he seemed to have disappeared„ Sebek came between them speaking loudly. “Skully told me he went to watch the sunset or something like that. I'm pretty sure I spotted the Prefect following him after a minute he left„ The houswardens looked at each other.

After a while Jack showed up asking about the two, Sally coming after a while, incredibly happy. “Why good morning Sally! What's gotten you so happy?“ She got closer to Jack whispering something that the others couldn't hear. Jack let out a happy laugh. “Reminds me of our early days. Love is truly beautiful isn't it?„ “Love? What love? What are you talking about?„ Vil demanded answers, but got nothing in return.

The two residents of the town decided to keep it a secret. And let you enjoy the moment just for a little while more.

[n0cturnalp1g]

Barely Even Friends

Summary: A marriage that wasn't even supposed to be the solution became the only solution to remedy the Wretched Hightower. Characters: Daemon Targaryen x Female!Reader!Hightower. Otto Hightower. Alicent Hightower. Word Count: 1,775 Chapter Warnings: Not Edited. Otto being father of the year. Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Prince Daemon Targaryen was an enigma that you wish never to be associated with since your return to King’s Landing, and yet here you were. Preparing for a marriage that you did not want nor did you even need. But your atrocities and your father’s conniving nature could not bend the King’s will as he was all the more convinced that the union between yourself and his brother would benefit the realm.

Two Hightower sisters wedded to the two Targaryen brothers. How pathetic of a house could they be to stoop so low for the sake of power.

“I’m sure it will not be as bad as you think it will be.” Alicent, as much as you had grown to resent her for choosing to accept the fate forced upon her by your father, there was still the worry of an older sister towards your baby sister.

“You are married to a King, Alicent. I am bound to a Prince that has no self-control and a reputation that precedes him.”

“No different from you, Sister.” Alicent pointed with a smile that immediately fell upon the sight of your pointed glare towards her.

“Do you truly believe that what our father wants is for our sake or of his own?” You inquired to your sister as you peered around the chamber that was your sister’s own since her marriage to the King, the former Queen’s bedroom to be more specific. “To live under the control of yet another man, giving him children upon children until you experience the same fate as the Late Queen?”

Silence lingered in the chamber. The frown deepens on your younger sister’s lips at the words you knew as her fears come to life. There was no escaping such a fact, not even a Queen could escape such a fate if the Gods were cruel enough to grant it to her.

“Everyone dies, Sister.”

“But not everyone tries to meet with the Stranger more than she needs to.” You quipped right back looking at her evident bump. “You’ve given him an heir as what was required out of you, is it duty anymore or just ignorance?”

You know well enough you’ve offended her. A momentary guilt spreads through your core at the sight of the little girl you had vowed to your mother you would protect with all of your life, from the cruelty of your father and of the world–yet somehow here you were, being the main source of the pain.

“I think it is best for you to rest for the night, Sister.” She dismissed you and it was enough to end the conversation you had.

You sighed and nodded.

“As you wish, your Grace.” You spoke before turning your way and leaving her chambers.

A sigh had escaped your lips at the sight of a handful of guards on watch–more for you than for the Queen herself. They were making sure you did not leave, not this time especially with the apparent betrothal to the Rogue Prince himself. Everyone knew you would escape–it was expected out of you at this point, but you were tired.

If it wasn’t one thing, it would be another. With the guards following her closely as she made her way to her chambers, the fury and annoyance growing ever more prominent in her skin with the three guards that followed just behind you. You could escape them if you wanted to–maybe you would just to spite everyone involved in this idiocy.

“Leave us.”

The hair at the back of your head stood at the familiar voice. Oh how you loathe the voice of the man that you now had the misfortune of calling your betrothed.

“You know it is frowned upon to have the two of us in private, Your Grace.” You quipped but the two of you knew you could care less about your reputation, but you did not want to be in his presence at the moment.

“And I am certain neither of us care of such a reputation, Lady Hightower.”

“But neither of us want to deal with our respective family at this time.”

Turning you were met with the smug smirk of the Prince. Your hand was aching to slap the smirk off of his face, but held yourself back especially with the guards that have yet to move from their position in front of you. The conflict of their duty to her and the position of the man in front of them all.

“I am in no mood to deal with you, Daemon.” You spoke frankly, no longer having the energy for his games. “You’ve done too much damage to what little grasp of freedom I still had in these seven hells you call the Keep.”

The smirk on his face disappeared at your words, his eyes turned once again to the guards that were here to control you instead of protecting you.

“Do not make me tell you twice, no one will like the blood I am willing to spill this evening.” His voice growing a tinge louder that physically had you taking a step back because of it.

It was enough to have the guards leaving you in the mercy of the man that you would be marrying in the following moon–whether you like it or not. You sighed seeing you were now alone in the hallway with the man that demanded a fate you would never give to your worst of enemies.

“Do you think so little of me?”

You stared at him, daring him to think about his words. Of the reality he forcefully bestowed upon you. You didn’t want this, you didn’t want to be in King’s Landing, they should have stripped you of what little nobility you still had and left you to fend for yourself–it was better than the situation you had now.

“I would ask the same thing since you forced yourself into a marriage I did not want nor did I even need, Your Grace.” You spoke frankly. “But what I want does not matter, it is your will and I am bound to follow it whether I like it or not.”

Without another word, you turned and made your way to your chambers, refusing to wait for a response from your future husband and the fate he will place upon you.

“You truly can’t do anything to save me from such a fate?” You had asked your father as you finally readied yourself for your marriage to a Prince and Otto was to walk you down the aisle to your future husband.

It was not a happy affair, the skies were bleak and dark as your own mood. Marriage should be a happy affair, but it never was for you. It was a death sentence for a life that will never truly be your own.

“It is the will of the King and of your future husband.”

You snorted, refusing to look him in the eye anymore as your servant has finished with your dress. You chose to dress in your family’s colors of green, instead of the red and black of your future husband’s own. Even in the last moments of your future, you wanted to grasp into a small piece of hope of this not pushing through.

“Until the very end, you continue to be a lapdog for the Targaryen and their whims.” You spoke frankly. “I had thought you would be satisfied with pleasing the King with my younger sister, but for the life of me I cannot believe that for all the loathe and gripe you had for Daemon, you would use me as another one of your tools.”

Your father said nothing towards you, instead focused on the servants leaving the room and not hearing anymore of the words that would certainly land in your demise at the hand of the King’s Justice, a fate better than was already placed upon you.

“You placed me upon a family that I did not want to be a part of. And now you will pay for the consequence of it when the time comes that much I can promise you, Father.”

“What do you wish for me to have done instead?” He finally acknowledged you, eyes burning with anger and an emotion that you had never truly seen in your father–fear.

“You should have been a father to me,” You admit. “You should have kept your promise to Mother before she passed.”

He said nothing as you were both signaled to head towards the sept for the ceremony. You did not hold his arm even if he presented it to you. You couldn’t. You did not want to hold him as he fed you to the dragon. You did not want to give him the right to do so anymore.

“There will be a time that Rhaenyra’s claim to the throne will come, and I can assure you that I will make sure that all of your plans do not come to fruition. No one in our family or our bloodline will ever sit on the Iron Throne.”

As you both continued on to walk, the echoes of your shared footsteps muting the sound of your beating heart.

“When the time comes, I will ensure that my future husband will erase you and our name from the history books for what you had made me do today, Otto.”

It was a promise that you were certain you will keep, whether anyone likes it or not. Nothing fuels a resentful daughter more than spite.

You ignored your father’s gentle whisper of your name, as the doors to the sept opened and you were met with the sight of a handful of nobles present to the union that you never wanted.

Once again, your father offered his arms but instead you walked with him quick to follow the pace you made. Staring at the man by the altar with the septon. The smirk on his lips ever growing bigger, and in that moment the first line of tear fell from your cheeks.

As soon as you stood besides the man that will now be your husband, your world stills as the tears continued to fall from your eyes and the smirk on his face disappeared at the sight of you.

“You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection.”

Even as the words escaped the Septon’s lips, there was no protection that would ever reassure you of the betrayal of your father and what he chose not to do for you and for the sake of what little control you still had in your life.

[solar-wing]

⚣ Too Late 💙

⚣💙 A/N → request for @alexanderstarhero! Hope you enjoy it! Also, I apologize for my extended absence. I have a job, I'm starting a new school program, and business-related things keep me busy, but I'm still here guys! I promise! Not sure how I feel about this one. I feel like I could've done better but we desperately need some more Clark Kent x male reader though so here you go. Which, by the way, if you haven't checked out @nouearth, his Clark fics and literally everything else makes me melt and feel unholy things. Churches beware. ANYWAY, Hope everyone likes it! WARNINGS: Magical Male Reader | Angst & Fluff | Childhood Friends To Lovers | SFW |

⚣💙 Summary → You know, one would think moving to a completely different city in hopes of forgetting your past life and feelings would be enough. But fate is a sneaky little bastard that just loves to play with your feelings. Is it too late for a do-over?

⚣💙 Words → 12.4K

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💙

⚣ ENJOY 💙

The city lights of Metropolis flickered through the windows of a small, cozy apartment, where the hum of traffic below provided a constant background noise. Y/N stood by the window, a glass of juice in hand, staring out at the skyline. Since moving to the city, he often found himself feeling nostalgic, with old memories of Smallville popping into his mind more frequently than he’d like. Most of those memories had a common thread.

A soft sigh escaped his lips as he took a sip of his juice, the cool liquid doing little to ease the anxious tightness in his chest. Moving to Metropolis was supposed to be a fresh start—a way to leave behind his past and focus on building a better, normal life for himself, free from the constraints of small-town life.

Since he was a baby, Y/N had been gifted with magical abilities. How he got these powers was a mystery to both him and his parents; they could never find any trace of magical ability in their ancestry. With no idea where the powers came from, and no one to turn to for help, his parents did everything they could to hide their son’s abilities from the outside world. They tried their best to teach him control, but without expertise, they were flying blind.

Growing up, Y/N barely knew how to control or use his powers. You’d think in a small town like his, people would have noticed or called in the town priest, but that wasn’t the case. In Metropolis, when something strange happened—something that often happened to Y/N—people would give him odd looks, but then they’d move on with their day as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. In Smallville, though, everyone treated it as normal.

After the Kents arrived with their new kid, who seemingly appeared out of nowhere, the town acted as if every strange occurrence was just part of everyday life. They quickly shut down anyone who dared to question it, and that extended to both Clark Kent and Y/N.

Small towns were usually known for everyone knowing everyone’s business. Gossip was the native language. But not in Smallville. Y/N couldn’t help but smile a little at the memory of how the line between the ordinary and the extraordinary seemed to blur there. Most places would have been up in arms if they noticed the strange occurrences that happened in Smallville. But in that little Kansas town, people had an uncanny ability to overlook the impossible, shrugging off the extraordinary as if it were just another quirk of life.

Take Clark Kent, for instance. Anyone could see that something was different about him. He was stronger, faster, and able to do things most grown men couldn’t even imagine, let alone a small farm boy. But the townsfolk never questioned it. They simply accepted that he could do things no one else could and moved on.

It was the same with Y/N. He might accidentally cause a book to float off a shelf or a light to flicker when he was upset, but no one in Smallville ever made a fuss, something his parents were very grateful for. There were whispers—there always are in small towns—but they never left closed doors. The people of Smallville had learned long ago to mind their own business, especially when it came to the Kents and Y/N.

Even more so when a bunch of guys in black suits, glasses, and SUVs showed up one week, probing around town and asking strange questions. It had been after one of the more noticeable incidents—a moment when Clark saved someone in a way that couldn’t be easily explained. If there was one thing you could count on from a small town, it was that they weren’t saying anything to those types of Feds or government officials.

The memory was still vivid in Y/N’s mind: the way the town closed ranks, the polite but firm way the locals deflected every question, sending agents on wild goose chases until they finally gave up. His parents had mentioned that it was nothing compared to when that strange meteor hit the Kent farm and a bunch of government agents and scientists showed up—the same week the Kents got a new kid named Clark.

It was as if the entire town had decided, collectively and without speaking a word, that whatever was going on with the Kents—and by extension, Y/N—was their business and no one else’s. The unspoken rule in Smallville was clear: if you saw something strange, you didn’t see it. You didn’t ask questions, and you certainly didn’t talk about it. It was a kind of willful ignorance, a way for the town to protect its own from prying eyes. And in some strange, twisted way, it worked.

Y/N often wondered how much of it was a conscious choice and how much was just the way Smallville was. It was as if the town itself had decided to shield them, to create a bubble where the extraordinary was just another part of everyday life.

But as comforting as that was, it was also suffocating. Because even in a town that turned a blind eye to the unusual, Y/N couldn’t escape the feeling that he was different, that there was something wrong with him. He couldn’t shake the fear that one day, the bubble would burst, and everyone would see him for what he really was—a freak, an outcast.

At least he had a friend.

Imagine the two kids in town who both had episodes of strange, inexplicable things happening to them or around them becoming friends. Completely ironic, like something straight out of a story. Unless...

...

Nah.

But in a place where the extraordinary was treated with a shrug, having someone like Clark as a friend made all the difference. It was as if fate—or whatever unseen force governed the universe—had decided that these two oddities should find each other. And find each other they did, in the most natural, unassuming way possible.

Clark and Y/N became fast friends, drawn together by their shared experiences of feeling different, even if neither of them fully understood why. They never talked about the strange things that happened to them, never discussed how Clark could lift bales of hay like they weighed nothing, or how Y/N could sometimes make things move with just a thought. It was an unspoken agreement, a mutual understanding that whatever was happening to them was theirs to carry, together.

In a town that turned a blind eye to the impossible, Clark was the one person who made Y/N feel like he wasn’t alone. There was a quiet comfort in their friendship, a sense of belonging that Y/N had never felt before. They were both outsiders in their own way, but together, they found a place where they could be themselves, where they didn’t have to pretend or hide.

But as they grew older, that comfort became a source of anxiety for Y/N. The more time he spent with Clark, the more he realized that his feelings for his friend were deeper than just friendship. He cared about Clark in a way that went beyond the bond they shared, and it terrified him. In a town that could overlook floating books and superhuman strength, there were still lines that couldn’t be crossed, and Y/N knew that his feelings for Clark were one of them.

He tried to suppress those feelings, to bury them deep inside where they couldn’t cause any harm. But the harder he tried, the more they grew, until it became impossible to ignore them. He started to pull away, putting distance between himself and Clark, hoping that space would make the feelings fade. It didn’t.

Plus, Y/N still didn’t understand the extent of his abilities, and he knew sometimes his powers would react to his emotions. He didn’t want to risk doing anything that could hurt Clark. He didn’t think he’d be able to live with himself if something happened because of his inability to control his powers.

Yet, good old noble Clark, always perceptive and caring, noticed the change. He didn’t push or pry, but there was always that look in his eyes, a quiet concern that only made Y/N’s heart ache more. Clark didn’t know why Y/N was pulling away, but he never stopped trying to bridge the gap. He was always there with a smile, a warm word, or an invitation to hang out, never letting the distance between them grow too wide.

It was those small gestures that made it so hard for Y/N to keep his resolve. Every time he saw Clark, every time Clark reached out, Y/N was reminded of why he had fallen for him in the first place. Clark was kind, selfless, and endlessly patient—the kind of person who would give you the shirt off his back without a second thought. How could Y/N not fall in love with someone like that?

But that love was exactly what made Y/N so afraid. The more he cared about Clark, the more he feared losing him, either because of his uncontrolled magic or because of the feelings he couldn’t keep buried forever. He knew that if he stayed in Smallville, if he stayed close to Clark, something would eventually slip. Maybe he’d accidentally reveal his powers, or maybe his feelings would come spilling out in a moment of weakness. Either way, Y/N was sure that it would end with Clark looking at him differently, seeing him as something strange, something other.

Thankfully, the age of adulthood and high school graduation came, and Y/N took that as his way out. His parents were as worried as ever about him moving to a college so far away, but he reassured them he’d be fine.

He decided on college in New York, thinking the change from small town to big city was exactly what he needed. At least there, it made sense for people to turn a blind eye to whatever strange things were going on around them.

But even throughout his years of undergrad, Y/N could never shake the memories of Smallville, and more specifically, he could never forget Clark. No matter how much distance he put between them, the memories of their friendship lingered, haunting him in the quiet moments when he was alone. He would often catch himself thinking about Clark—wondering what he was doing, if he was still in Smallville, if he had moved on with his life the way Y/N had tried to.

Y/N thought that maybe, over time, those feelings would fade, that he would move on and forget the boy who had once meant everything to him. But they never did. Even in the crowded, bustling city of New York, where life moved at a breakneck pace and there was always something new to distract him, Y/N found his thoughts drifting back to Clark.

He tried dating other people, hoping that maybe if he found someone else, someone who wasn’t Clark, it would help him move on. But it never worked. No one else could compare to the boy who had always been there for him, who had seen him at his worst and never judged him for it. Every relationship ended the same way, with Y/N feeling like he was chasing something he could never have, like he was trying to fill a void that only Clark could fill.

Then, after graduation, Y/N was offered a job in Metropolis. It was a great opportunity, the kind of offer he couldn’t turn down. It wasn’t too far from where he was already living, but he figured a new change of scenery couldn’t be too bad.

Plus, he wanted to check out the rumors he’d heard of some sort of superhero who had started making headlines in Metropolis. The stories seemed almost too wild to believe—a man with superhuman strength, speed, and the ability to fly, saving people and fighting crime in the heart of the city. It was the kind of thing that would have been dismissed as tabloid nonsense anywhere else, but Y/N knew better. If there was one thing Smallville had taught him, it was that the extraordinary often hid in plain sight.

So, with a mix of curiosity and the desire for a fresh start, Y/N packed his bags and moved to Metropolis. He found a small, cozy apartment in a quieter part of the city, close enough to the action but far enough to avoid the chaos. The job was great—challenging, fulfilling, and exactly what he needed to take his mind off things. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t escape the feeling that he was still running, still trying to outrun the shadow of his past.

Despite his attempts to leave his old life behind, Y/N couldn’t completely ignore his powers. He had spent too long hiding them, too long fearing them, but deep down, he believed that if he had these abilities, he should use them for good. In Smallville, he had been careful, using his magic only when absolutely necessary, but here in Metropolis, he found himself with more opportunities to help in small, subtle ways.

He’d mend a broken bike chain with a whisper of an incantation or quietly heal a scraped knee when no one was looking. He’d use his magic to nudge a stray cat away from traffic or to coax a wilting plant back to life. He was always careful, always discreet, making sure that no one noticed the little miracles he performed. It was his way of giving back, of using the gifts he had been given to make the world around him just a little bit better.

But there were times when he couldn’t help but step in and do more.

One evening, he walked past a small, family-owned bookstore that he had become fond of. The owner, an elderly man who had run the shop for decades, was sitting behind the counter with a look of deep worry on his face. Over the weeks, Y/N had noticed the shelves becoming sparser, and the customers fewer. The man had confided in Y/N once, mentioning how the business was struggling, how the bills were piling up, and how he feared he might lose the store if things didn’t turn around soon.

Y/N couldn’t bear to see the man lose everything he had worked so hard to build. So, that night, under the cover of darkness, Y/N returned to the bookstore. He stood outside the shop, focusing his energy on the building, weaving a spell that would attract more customers and give the store a sense of warmth and welcoming. He whispered incantations for prosperity and good fortune, sending out waves of magic that would subtly influence the minds of those who passed by, drawing them in with an inexplicable urge to browse and buy.

Over the next few days, Y/N was delighted to see the shop bustling with customers. The owner’s smile returned, and the store was once again filled with the chatter of people and the smell of fresh coffee brewing in the corner. The shelves began to fill up again, and the old man even had to hire an assistant to help him manage the increasing business.

Another time, he found himself playing guardian angel when he was walking home from work one night and spotted a young woman on the opposite side of the street, her pace quickening as she noticed a group of men following her. Y/N’s heart raced, and he quickly assessed the situation. He couldn’t confront them directly—he wasn’t a superhero—but he could help in other ways.

A few thoughts and concentrated focus, and suddenly a series of events unfolded: a nearby street light flickered and went out, casting the area in shadow; a loud crash from behind pulled the men's attention away from her; a gentle breeze nudged her toward a more populated, well-lit area. With the streetlight out, it gave her natural cover long enough to slip out of sight and into the safety of a nearby diner, the sound of her heels muffled by Y/N’s magic.

Y/N watched from a distance, relieved when the woman was safe inside, her would-be attackers now lost and confused. It wasn’t the first time he had done something like that, and it wouldn’t be the last.

Recently, he visited a local hospital where a friend’s child was being treated. The doctors were worried; the illness wasn’t responding to treatment, and the prognosis was grim. Y/N spent hours by the child’s bedside, speaking softly to him, holding his hand. When no one was looking, he let his magic flow through him, just a touch, just enough to help the child’s body fight back.

The next morning, the doctors were stunned by the sudden improvement. They couldn’t explain it, chalked it up to a miracle or a sudden turn of fate, but Y/N knew better. He slipped away before anyone could question it, leaving behind only a whispered prayer of thanks for the child’s recovery.

Y/N never took credit for any of his acts. And while they weren’t grand, weren’t the stuff of legends, they were enough to give him a sense of purpose, a way to use his gifts without drawing too much attention. He was careful, always careful, to remain in the shadows, to let the world think these small miracles were just coincidences, nothing more.

But now, standing in his apartment, staring out at the city skyline, Y/N couldn’t help but feel like he was right back where he started. The memories of Smallville were stronger than ever, and the loneliness he had tried so hard to escape felt more suffocating in this big city than it ever had in the small town.

It had been years since he left, but the memories of that quiet town still lingered in his mind, especially the memories of Clark Kent. He just couldn’t figure out why they had suddenly become so strong. Maybe it was the time of year, or maybe it was because he had been thinking about how he used his magic to help people in Metropolis—something that Clark would surely approve of, even if he never knew about it.

Or maybe it was because, despite everything he had done to distance himself, Clark had always been there, a constant presence in his thoughts, no matter how much Y/N tried to move on.

He took another sip of his juice, the cool liquid doing little to ease the tightness in his chest. He hadn’t seen Clark in years, hadn’t heard from him since he left Smallville, but the feelings he had for his old friend hadn’t faded. If anything, they had only grown stronger, deepening with time and distance. And that was what scared him the most—how much he still cared, how much he still missed him.

Y/N set his glass down on the windowsill, running a hand through his hair as he tried to shake off the nostalgia. He had a new life now, a good life, and he couldn’t afford to dwell on the past. Clark was probably living his own life, happy and successful, just as Y/N was trying to do.

But the more he tried to push the memories away, the more they clung to him, like shadows that refused to disappear. He sighed, turning his gaze out the window, hoping that the familiar sight of the city would ground him, would remind him of the new path he had chosen.

The city lights twinkled in the distance, a sea of illumination against the darkened sky. Y/N’s eyes scanned the skyline absently, taking in the familiar sights he had grown accustomed to since moving to Metropolis. But something caught his eye, something unusual that made his breath catch in his throat.

High above the city, a figure streaked across the sky, moving with impossible speed and grace. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat as he recognized the red and blue blur—a sight that had become increasingly familiar to the citizens of Metropolis. It was Superman.

Y/N watched, mesmerized, as the figure soared through the night, his movements precise and powerful. But as he watched, a strange sensation began to creep over him, a feeling that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. It wasn’t just awe or admiration—though those feelings were there, too—it was something deeper, something unsettling.

There was something about Superman, something in the way he moved, in the way he seemed to command the air around him, that tugged at the edges of Y/N’s consciousness. It was as if some hidden part of him recognized the hero in the sky, even though he knew that was impossible. He had never met Superman, had never been anywhere near him. And yet…

Y/N pressed his hand against the cool glass of the window, his heart pounding in his chest. His magic, usually so controlled, began to stir, responding to the swirl of emotions inside him. The sensation was both familiar and alien, a strange mix of nostalgia and unease that made his chest tighten.

As he watched Superman disappear into the distance, Y/N couldn’t shake the eerie feeling that had settled over him. It was as if the presence of the hero had awakened something inside him, something that had been dormant for years. And with that awakening came a sense of foreboding, a nagging feeling that his past was not as far behind him as he had hoped.

Y/N tore his gaze away from the window, trying to dispel the uneasy feeling that had taken root in his chest. But even as he turned away, the sense of familiarity lingered, haunting him like a ghost from a life he had tried so hard to leave behind.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, but the image of Superman remained burned into his mind, along with the inexplicable sense that something—someone—was drawing him back into a world he thought he had escaped.

And deep down, Y/N knew that this was only the beginning.

The grand ballroom of the Metropolis City Hall buzzed with chatter, the clinking of glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter. The charity event his job was sponsoring was in full swing, a glamorous affair with the city’s elite mingling and donating to a worthy cause. Y/N stood near the edge of the room, awkwardly holding a glass of water and wondering how quickly he could make a polite escape.

This wasn’t exactly his scene. Networking? Sure. Small talk? Not so much. Especially with these tone-deaf, overly stiff airheads.  He glanced around, trying to locate the nearest exit, but the sea of people made it difficult. And just when he thought found a suitable path of escape, a waiter with a tray of hors d'oeuvres suddenly appeared in front of him.

“Crab cake?”

“Uh, no thanks,” Y/N mumbled, sidestepping the tray, only to nearly collide with a woman in a sequined dress who was clearly on a mission to get to the bar. He offered a quick apology and finally made it to a quiet corner, where he could breathe again.

As he scanned the room, his thoughts drifted back to last night and a certain caped superhero. His curiosity combined with the still overwhelming feelings of longing and nostalgia had the magic in him feeling antsy. And the last thing Y/N needed was to accidentally cause a chandelier to implode or a champagne glass to refill itself endlessly.

He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady himself, not wanting to make a big scene considering he wanted to make a hasty and sneaky exit. As he opened his eyes, Y/N forced his thoughts away from Superman, away from the strange connection he’d felt the night before. He needed to focus on the present, on getting through this evening without incident.

Y/N sighed, taking a sip of his water. This was supposed to be a fresh start. The past was behind him, and he needed to keep it that way.

But fate, as it often does, had other plans. Little sneaky bastard.

Just as he was about to make a break for the exit, Y/N’s eyes caught sight of someone across the room, and his heart nearly stopped. There, standing by the dessert table with a bemused expression, was Clark Kent.

Of course, Clark would be standing around looking lost with his cute little confused expression. Even now as a grown man, Clark managed to keep his boyish and innocent demeanor. Y/N’s mouth went dry as his eyes took in the sight of the male—older, more polished, and just as big as ever.

Since they were little, Clark always stood out among the other kids for his build and height alone. And it looks like that didn't change with the way he towered over everyone in the room and how his broad shoulders filled out his suit perfectly, the fabric clinging just right in all the places that mattered. Y/N felt a familiar flutter in his chest, a mix of nostalgia and something more complicated that he’d been trying to ignore for years.

Clark, as if sensing someone’s gaze on him, looked up from the dessert table. His eyes, those same bright blue eyes that Y/N remembered so well, scanned the room briefly before landing directly on him. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, and for a split second, he considered ducking behind the nearest potted plant.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Y/N could feel his pulse in his throat, and for a second, he entertained the idea of hiding behind the nearest potted plant.

But then Clark’s face lit up with a grin that could have powered the entire room, and he started making his way over, weaving through the crowd with the kind of determined politeness that only Clark could pull off.

Panic set in, and Y/N’s mind scrambled for a plan, but his feet were rooted to the spot, his body betraying him. All he could do was watch as Clark closed the distance between them, that familiar grin never leaving his face.

“Y/N!” Clark’s voice was as warm and friendly as Y/N remembered, and before he knew it, he was being pulled into a hug that was just as firm and comforting as it had always been.

Y/N stiffened for a moment, caught off guard by the unexpected embrace. When Clark finally pulled back, still keeping a hand on Y/N’s shoulder as if afraid he might vanish, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the slight smudge of chocolate on Clark’s tie. It was such a Clark thing to have—always a little messy, always endearing.

“Clark,” Y/N managed to say, his voice coming out more breathless than he intended. “It’s been a while.”

Clark beamed at him, the smile reaching his eyes in that way that always made Y/N feel like everything was going to be okay. “Yeah, it really has,” Clark said, his tone filled with a warmth that made Y/N’s heart ache with memories of simpler times. “I almost didn’t recognize you without the Smallville backdrop.”

Y/N let out a small laugh, trying to keep things light despite the sudden rush of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. “Yeah, I guess we’ve both changed a bit.”

Clark’s gaze lingered on Y/N’s face, a mix of curiosity and concern in his eyes. It was clear that Clark had questions, but to his credit, he didn’t push. Instead, he gave Y/N one of those easy, reassuring smiles that had always been able to calm him down. “I’m really glad to see you again. I’ve missed you, Y/N.”

There it was—the punch to the gut that Y/N had been dreading. He had missed Clark too, more than he wanted to admit. But standing here, face-to-face with him after all these years, all those old fears and feelings began to resurface. The fear of Clark discovering the truth about his powers, about his feelings. The fear of losing the one person who had always meant the most to him.

“I’ve missed you too,” Y/N said, the words slipping out before he could stop them. It was the truth, but saying it out loud made the tightness in his chest even worse.

Clark’s smile softened, and for a brief moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the room. Y/N could almost believe that they could pick up where they left off, that everything could go back to the way it was. But deep down, he knew it could never be that simple.

His smile didn’t waver, but his eyes narrowed slightly, a familiar look of concern flickering across his face. “You okay? You seem a little… off.”

Y/N forced a laugh, hoping it didn’t sound as strained as it felt. “I’m fine, just—uh—surprised, I guess. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Well, surprise!” Clark laughed with his usual shy manner that was somehow still charming for Y/N’s frayed nerves. “I’ve been working at the Daily Planet. Moved to Metropolis not too long ago. How about you? What brings you here?”

“Work,” Y/N answered quickly, trying to keep the conversation light. “Got a job offer I couldn’t turn down.”

Clark nodded, his eyes never leaving Y/N. It was as if he was trying to read him, to figure out what was going on beneath the surface. For a moment, Y/N was afraid that Clark could see right through him, could see the turmoil and conflict he was struggling with.

But then, the moment passed, and Clark was smiling again, his expression softening.

Y/N cleared his throat, forcing his thoughts away from the past and back to the present. "So, the Daily Planet, huh? That’s a pretty big deal," he said, trying to keep the conversation light.

Clark’s eyes lit up, and he nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! It’s been a dream come true. And the best part? I get to work with some amazing people—Lois Lane and Jimmy Olsen. They’re right over there, actually," Clark added, his tone suddenly turning a bit more nervous. "You’ve got to meet them!"

Before Y/N could even process the idea, Clark grabbed his arm, leading him through the crowd with an urgency that caught Y/N off guard. He barely had time to adjust before they were standing in front of a petite woman with sharp eyes and a confident demeanor, who was mid-conversation with a young man enthusiastically fiddling with a vintage camera.

"Lois! Jimmy!" Clark called out, drawing their attention.

Lois turned first, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in Y/N. Then her expression softened into a warm, welcoming smile. "Clark! Who’s this?"

Clark beamed, looking from Lois to Y/N with a hint of nervous energy. "This is Y/N. We grew up together in Smallville."

"Smallville?" Lois’s eyebrow arched with clear interest. "Now that’s a place with some stories, I bet."

Jimmy, now peering at Y/N through the lens of his camera, quickly snapped a picture before lowering it with an apologetic grin. "Sorry, couldn’t resist. It’s a habit."

Y/N chuckled, shaking his head. "No worries. I’m used to it."

Lois leaned in, her curiosity clearly piqued. "So, Y/N, what was Clark like back in Smallville? I can only imagine."

Y/N glanced at Clark, who looked both hopeful and slightly anxious. "Clark and I were pretty much inseparable growing up," Y/N said with a smile, trying to keep the conversation light. "He was always the guy you could count on, the one who’d help you out of a jam and then offer you pie afterward."

Lois’s eyes twinkled with intrigue, clearly not ready to let the topic go. "Pie and jam, huh? Sounds like you two got into some interesting situations. Any fun stories you care to share?"

Y/N felt his heart rate pick up. He could sense the inquisitiveness behind Lois’s casual tone, the way she was gently probing for more. She was good—really good. "Oh, you know, small-town stuff," he said, forcing a chuckle. "Mostly just boring farm work and school."

Clark, sensing Y/N’s discomfort, quickly jumped in. "Yeah, nothing too exciting. Just your average childhood, right, Y/N?"

"Right," Y/N agreed, a bit too quickly. He could feel Lois’s eyes on him, studying him, and it made his magic stir uneasily. The last thing he wanted was for her to start asking more pointed questions that might lead her to the truth.

Lois didn’t miss a beat. "So, you two must have been really close, then. I bet you know all of Clark’s secrets," she said with a teasing smile, though there was a hint of genuine curiosity in her voice.

Y/N’s stomach dropped. He forced another laugh, this one more strained. "Well, everyone’s got their secrets, right?"

Lois raised an eyebrow, clearly catching the subtle tension in Y/N’s voice. "True," she said slowly, her eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to piece together a puzzle. "But something tells me you’re not just any old friend from Smallville."

Clark, sensing that the conversation was veering into dangerous territory, let out a nervous laugh. "Lois, come on, don’t interrogate him on the first meeting!"

Jimmy, sensing the shift in tone, chimed in, grinning as he tried to lighten the mood. "Yeah, Lois, ease up! You don’t want to scare off Clark’s oldest friend."

Lois gave a soft laugh, raising her hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I’ll back off… for now."

Y/N smiled, but there was a tightness in his chest that he couldn’t shake. Lois’s perceptiveness had always been one of her strengths, and it was clear she was picking up on more than he wanted to reveal.

"Seriously, though," Lois said, her tone softening as she gave Y/N a more genuine smile. "It’s good to meet you. Any friend of Clark’s is a friend of ours."

Y/N relaxed slightly, appreciating the warm reception despite his earlier nerves. "Thanks, Lois. I appreciate that."

As the conversation continued, Y/N found himself relaxing a bit more, though the earlier tension still lingered in the back of his mind. He knew he’d have to be careful around Lois—her curiosity and sharp instincts were not something to be underestimated.

Lois, ever the sharp-eyed reporter, leaned closer to Y/N. "So, what brings you to Metropolis? Work?"

"Yeah," Y/N nodded, "I got an offer I couldn’t turn down."

Lois nodded, impressed. "Well, welcome to the city. You know, we’re always looking for interesting people to feature in the Planet. Maybe we’ll run into each other more often."

"Maybe," Y/N said, feeling a bit more at ease. "It’s a small world after all."

Clark chuckled at that, his earlier nervousness fading as the conversation flowed more naturally. "I’m really glad we ran into each other, Y/N. We should definitely hang out more. I mean, if you’re not too busy with work."

Realistically, Y/N should have declined. He should have politely excused himself and gone home, putting an end to the whole thing. But when he looked at Clark, saw the hope and excitement in his eyes, he couldn't bring himself to say no.

All his nervous thoughts and reservations about what could happen if he allowed himself to get close to Clark again seemed to just fade to the back of his mind as he re-connected with him and got to know his two friends. A new familiar feeling also settled in place as well, but not so much nostalgia.

It was more of something he didn't even remember feeling. A sense of ease and comfort, his magic calm and feeling completely grounded. A feeling he hadn't experienced in a long time but something that wasn't new or unfamiliar, a very welcomed sensation and peace.

"I'd love to," Y/N said, his heart skipping a beat.

Clark's smile was brighter than the sun, and though Y/N knew he was in trouble just for that, emotions and impulse overtook his logic. Thus, he didn't really care.

As the night continued, Y/N found himself more at ease, the earlier tension gradually dissipating. Lois, ever the investigative reporter, kept throwing glances his way, but she seemed content for now, her curiosity temporarily satisfied. Jimmy, meanwhile, was snapping pictures of everything and everyone, his energy infectious.

Y/N had to admit, despite his initial apprehension, he was enjoying himself. The company was good, the conversation flowed easily, and for the first time in a long time, he felt like he was part of something. A small part of him wondered if this was what he had been missing—connection, camaraderie, a sense of belonging.

Clark leaned in closer, a warm smile on his face. "So, Y/N, how have you been? I mean, really been?"

Y/N paused, considering his answer. He could have brushed off the question, given a generic response about work being busy and life being hectic. But something about the way Clark asked, the genuine concern in his voice, made Y/N want to be honest.

"I’ve been… okay," Y/N said, the words coming out slower than he expected. "Moving to Metropolis has been a big change, but it’s good. I’m still finding my way, I guess."

Clark nodded, his expression softening with understanding. "I get that. Moving here was a big adjustment for me too. But you know, it helps when you’ve got friends around. People you can rely on."

Y/N smiled at that, a warmth spreading through him. "Yeah, it does."

Lois, sensing the shift in the conversation, jumped back in with her trademark curiosity. "So, Y/N, what exactly do you do for work? You mentioned an offer you couldn’t turn down."

Y/N hesitated, not wanting to reveal too much. "I work in consulting," he said, keeping it vague. "It’s a bit of everything, really. I help businesses with strategy, operations, that sort of thing."

Lois’s eyes narrowed slightly, clearly not satisfied with the lack of detail, but she let it slide, for now. "That sounds interesting. Metropolis must be a great place for that kind of work."

"It is," Y/N replied, grateful she didn’t press further.

Jimmy, ever the enthusiastic one, suddenly popped up between them, holding out his camera. "Hey, how about a picture? You guys look great together!"

Y/N barely had time to react before Jimmy was positioning them for a shot, his camera clicking away. Clark chuckled, clearly used to Jimmy’s antics, while Lois struck a pose with practiced ease.

As they waited for the flash, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a sense of surrealism wash over him. Here he was, reconnecting with an old friend, surrounded by new ones, in a city that was starting to feel less like a strange place and more like a potential home.

The camera flashed, capturing the moment, and Jimmy grinned as he checked the screen. "Perfect! This one’s definitely going in the album."

Lois nodded in agreement, a smile on her face. "Yeah, this is one for the books. You’re officially part of the crew now, Y/N."

Y/N laughed, the sound genuine and light. "Well, I guess there’s no turning back now."

Clark’s smile was warm, his eyes shining with something that made Y/N’s heart skip a beat. "I’m really glad you’re here, Y/N. It feels like old times."

Y/N nodded, feeling a mix of emotions swirl within him. "Yeah, it does."

As the evening drew on, the four of them continued to chat, the conversation flowing easily between light-hearted banter and more serious topics. Y/N felt a connection with Clark and his friends that he hadn’t felt in a long time, and for the first time since moving to Metropolis, he allowed himself to relax and enjoy the moment.

But as the night wore on and the event began to wind down, Y/N couldn’t shake the nagging feeling at the back of his mind. Lois’s earlier questions had been harmless enough, but he knew her type—persistent, sharp, and always on the lookout for a story. He couldn’t afford to let his guard down too much, especially with his magic always threatening to reveal itself.

Yet, despite the risks, Y/N found himself wanting to spend more time with Clark, to catch up on the years they’d missed, and maybe even find a way to make this new life in Metropolis work. It was a dangerous line to walk, but for tonight, he was willing to take that risk.

As they all said their goodbyes and made plans to meet up again soon, Y/N felt a sense of contentment settle over him. Maybe this fresh start in Metropolis wouldn’t be as complicated as he feared. Maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to balance the old and the new, to keep his secrets while building something real with the people who were quickly becoming more than just acquaintances.

And maybe, this time, since he was older and more aware and mature, he could keep his feelings for Clark in check.

Yeah, that hope didn't last long.

Y/N sighed as he stared up at the ceiling of his apartment, reflecting on how quickly things had spiraled out of control since reconnecting with Clark. It had only been a few weeks, but in that short time, his life had become a whirlwind of old emotions, new challenges, and unexpected complications.

He’d spent more time with Clark, Lois, and Jimmy than he had anticipated. There were coffee runs, after-work dinners, and late-night brainstorming sessions where Lois would excitedly discuss her latest scoop while Jimmy showed off his latest photos. Clark, ever the supportive friend, would listen intently, adding his own insights with that same gentle warmth that had always made Y/N feel at ease.

Lois and Jimmy were friendly and welcoming, but Y/N could never fully relax around them. He still had to always be on guard, constantly aware of the magic simmering just beneath the surface.

And despite the camaraderie, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling of being out of place. It wasn’t just that he was trying to reintegrate into Clark’s life; it was the constant need to keep his magic under control, especially around Lois and Jimmy. The two of them were sharp—Lois, with her inquisitive nature, and Jimmy, with his keen eye for detail. They’d pick up on any slip-up, any sign that Y/N wasn’t just an ordinary guy from Smallville.

And then there were the moments of crisis—because Metropolis was never short on those. It seemed like every time Y/N was with the trio, something would happen. A runaway bus, a building fire, some random new villain on the loose—something always required Superman’s intervention. And every single time, Clark would disappear with a flimsy excuse, only for Superman to show up moments later.

The first time it happened, Y/N had been at a food truck with Clark and Jimmy, enjoying a rare sunny afternoon. They were laughing about something silly Jimmy had said when suddenly, the sound of screeching tires and panicked screams filled the air. Without missing a beat, Clark had mumbled something about needing to make a quick call and bolted, leaving Y/N standing there confused with Lois and Jimmy. Moments later, Superman was on the scene, saving the day like clockwork.

Lois and Jimmy had immediately sprung into action, Jimmy snapping photos while Lois started interviewing witnesses. They had been weirdly calm about the whole thing, a lot of things actually when Y/N thought about it. It was like Smallville all over again, things that should cause people to react with caution and apprehension, but instead, they barely blinked an eye.

It didn’t help that every time Clark returned, he looked winded and disheveled, and Lois would give him a knowing glance that made Y/N’s stomach twist with unease.

Meanwhile, he'd also been using his magic discreetly in these various scenarios to help keep people safe and minimize destruction and casualties. But in the chaos, he’d nearly been caught by Lois, who had turned around just as Y/N was subtly redirecting a beam of wood away from a trapped child.

“Hey, how’d you do that?” she’d asked, her sharp eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Y/N had stammered out a weak excuse, something about adrenaline and luck, but he could tell Lois wasn’t convinced. She’d given him that look—the one that said she wasn’t done with him yet.

And it wasn’t the last time, either. Every time something happened, Y/N found himself using his magic to help, and every time, he came dangerously close to being caught by Lois. She was perceptive, and it was clear she was starting to get suspicious. Her questions about his past, about his connection to Clark, were getting more pointed, and Y/N could feel the pressure mounting.

But there was another element to this that Y/N hadn’t anticipated—jealousy. The more time he spent with the group, the more he noticed how close Clark and Lois were. It wasn’t just their professional partnership; it was the way they interacted, the easy banter, the shared looks, the inside jokes. Y/N couldn’t help but notice the way Clark’s eyes lit up whenever Lois was around, how he seemed more at ease with her than anyone else.

It irritated Y/N more than he wanted to admit. He knew it was irrational—Clark was allowed to have close friends, and Lois was obviously important to him. But every time he saw them together, it felt like a thorn in his side, a constant reminder of how complicated things had become. It didn’t help that Lois was so naturally curious, always asking questions about his and Clark’s past, digging into their history with a relentless enthusiasm that made Y/N squirm.

And then there were the quiet moments—those rare instances when it was just Y/N and Clark, away from the chaos of the city. They’d talk about everything and nothing, slipping into the easy rhythm of their past friendship. But every time, Y/N felt the old feelings bubbling up, stronger than ever.

Like the night they’d gone for a walk along the Metropolis River. The city lights reflected off the water, casting a soft glow over everything. Clark had been unusually quiet, his hands tucked into his pockets as they strolled. Y/N had felt the tension between them, the unspoken words hanging in the air.

“I’m glad you’re here, Y/N,” Clark had said suddenly, breaking the silence. “It’s like… it feels right, having you around again.”

Y/N had smiled, but it hadn’t reached his eyes. He wanted to say something—anything—that would match the sincerity in Clark’s voice, but the words had caught in his throat. Instead, he’d just nodded, trying to ignore the way his heart raced every time Clark looked at him like that.

But every time they were together, every time Clark smiled at him or brushed against him accidentally, Y/N felt his resolve weakening. It was getting harder to pretend that everything was fine, that he didn’t still have feelings for Clark.

And as they spent more time together, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder—did Clark feel it too? There were moments, subtle ones, where Y/N thought he saw something in Clark’s eyes, a lingering gaze, a soft smile that seemed meant just for him. But then Clark would pull back, or Lois would step in, and Y/N was left questioning if it was all in his head.

But now, lying on his couch and staring at the ceiling, Y/N couldn’t ignore it anymore. The old feelings hadn’t just resurfaced—they were drowning him, pulling him under with a force he couldn’t fight.

It wasn’t just about Clark, though that was a huge part of it. It was the fear of what would happen if Clark—or worse, Lois and Jimmy—found out about his magic. They were all so caught up in their own world of secrets and dangers, and Y/N wasn’t sure if he could handle being part of it. He wasn’t sure if he could keep up the act much longer.

His phone buzzed on the coffee table, pulling him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the screen and saw a message from Clark: Hey, want to grab dinner with Lois and Jimmy? We’re thinking Thai.

Y/N hesitated for a moment before typing a quick reply: Sure, sounds good.

As he grabbed his jacket and headed out the door, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that he was walking a tightrope, balancing between the life he had built for himself and the one he had left behind. And with every step, he was getting closer to falling off.

As Y/N walked to the restaurant, he kept his hands stuffed deep in his pockets, trying to calm the unease that had settled in his chest. He needed to get a grip, to find a way to keep his feelings in check before they, and thus his magic spiraled out of control. The last thing he wanted was for Clark to notice—or worse, for Lois to start asking questions.

By the time he reached the restaurant, Y/N had managed to push his anxiety down, forcing a smile as he spotted Clark, Lois, and Jimmy waiting outside. Clark waved him over, his smile as bright as ever.

"Hey, glad you could make it," Clark greeted him with his usual warm and bright tone.

"Heh, wouldn't miss it," Y/N chuckled, trying to keep his voice casual.

As they ate, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the easy dynamic between Lois and Clark. There was a familiarity there, an unspoken understanding that made Y/N’s chest tighten with a mix of jealousy and longing. He wanted to be part of that, to be as close to Clark as Lois was.

But then Lois turned to him, her sharp eyes studying him with that same curiosity he’d noticed at the gala. “So, Y/N, what was Clark like back in Smallville? He never talks much about his hometown.”

Y/N felt his pulse quicken. He shot a quick glance at Clark, who was suddenly very interested in his pad Thai.

“Oh, you know,” Y/N began, trying to keep his tone light, “just your average small-town kid. We spent a lot of time getting into trouble and trying to keep out of it.”

Lois raised an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with the vague answer. “Really? I find that hard to believe. Clark’s practically the poster boy for responsibility.”

Y/N forced a laugh, trying to deflect Lois’s probing gaze. “Yeah, well, even poster boys have their moments. We were just kids, you know? Doing dumb stuff like exploring abandoned barns or sneaking out to the creek after dark. Nothing too wild.”

Lois leaned in slightly, her eyes narrowing with that trademark inquisitiveness. “Come on, Y/N, you’re holding out on me. I want the juicy details. What kind of trouble did Clark get into?”

Y/N could feel the heat rising in his face, a mix of nerves, and the pressure of trying to avoid any slip-ups. “Honestly, it was mostly me dragging him into stuff. Clark was always the one keeping me out of serious trouble.”

Clark chuckled nervously, his eyes darting between Y/N and Lois. “Yeah, Y/N was always the adventurous one. I was just along for the ride.”

Jimmy, sensing the tension, tried to lighten the mood. “I don’t know, Lois. I think Clark’s just good at covering his tracks. Bet he’s got a whole secret rebellious side we don’t know about.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at Jimmy’s words, the irony of the statement not lost on him. If only they knew just how many secrets Clark was hiding—or how many he was keeping himself.

Lois, however, wasn’t so easily deterred. “I don’t doubt it,” she said, her eyes flicking back to Y/N with a knowing smile. “And I bet you’ve got some secrets of your own, Y/N. You seem like the type who’s good at keeping things under wraps.”

Y/N’s smile faltered for just a second before he forced it back into place. “Who doesn’t have a few secrets?” he replied, trying to keep his tone light and nonchalant.

Lois’s gaze lingered on him a moment longer, and Y/N could practically feel her trying to piece together the puzzle she was sure he was hiding. He shifted uncomfortably, desperate to change the subject.

“Anyway,” Y/N said, his voice a bit too loud in his haste to redirect the conversation, “what about you guys? You’ve all been working together for a while now. Any crazy stories from the Daily Planet?”

Clark gave him a grateful smile, clearly relieved at the change in topic. “Oh, you know, it’s mostly just chasing down leads and trying to stay out of trouble ourselves.”

Lois smirked. “Mostly. There have been a few close calls, though. Like that time we were covering that gala and—”

But before she could continue, there was a sudden commotion outside the restaurant. The sound of screeching tires and shouting filled the air, followed by the unmistakable sound of something crashing into a building.

Clark’s expression immediately shifted to one of concern. “I’ll, uh, be right back,” he mumbled, already moving toward the door.

Moments later, Superman was on the scene, and Y/N found himself once again in the midst of a crisis, trying to discreetly use his magic to help those around him. He directed falling debris away from pedestrians, subtly reinforced a crumbling wall, and calmed panicked civilians—all while trying to stay out of Lois’s line of sight.

As Y/N moved through the chaos, he couldn’t help but keep one eye on Lois. She was already pulling out her phone, likely trying to reach out to sources or start documenting the scene for the Daily Planet. But more than once, Y/N caught her glancing his way, her sharp eyes narrowing as if she were trying to figure something out.

It didn’t help that every time Y/N used his magic, Lois seemed to notice something was off. Like when he subtly redirected a falling streetlight away from a group of bystanders, Lois had been nearby and had whipped around, her eyes narrowing as she spotted Y/N standing there, his hand half-raised.

“Where, how did you—” she started, but Y/N cut her off quickly.

“Uh, just lucky timing,” he said, flashing what he hoped was a convincing grin.

Lois didn’t look convinced, but before she could press further, another explosion rocked the area as Superman swooped across the sky in a fight with some new villain. Lois’s attention was immediately drawn away as she dashed off to get closer to the action, leaving Y/N with a brief moment of relief.

But it was short-lived. He could feel the weight of his secret bearing down on him, the fear that at any moment, Lois would start putting the pieces together. She was too perceptive, too determined to uncover the truth, and Y/N was running out of excuses.

Y/N’s heart pounded as he watched Lois dart away, her focus now on Superman’s battle overhead. The city block was in chaos—buildings crumbling, cars overturned, and terrified civilians running for cover. Y/N could feel the familiar tingle of his magic, urging him to act, but he hesitated. He was too exposed, too close to Lois and Jimmy, who were both still in the thick of things, trying to stay safe while getting their story.

But then he saw it—a mother and her young child, trapped beneath a fallen piece of debris, their terrified cries cutting through the noise. Without thinking, Y/N moved. He knew he couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.

Darting through the chaos, he reached the trapped pair, his heart racing. The chunk of concrete pinning them was far too heavy for him to lift on his own, but that didn’t stop him from trying. He pretended to struggle with it for a moment, glancing around to make sure no one was watching too closely. Then, with a whispered incantation, he let his magic flow, lifting the debris just enough for the mother to pull her child to safety.

“Go! Get out of here!” Y/N urged them, and they didn’t need to be told twice. They scrambled to their feet and ran, not looking back.

But as Y/N released his grip on the concrete, allowing it to crash back to the ground, he felt a prickling at the back of his neck. He turned just in time to see Lois standing a few feet away, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and suspicion.

“Y/N…” she started, her voice barely audible over the sounds of destruction around them. “How did you—”

Before she could finish, a loud crash interrupted her, drawing their attention to the ongoing battle above. Superman was locked in a fierce struggle with the villain, who was wielding some kind of energy weapon that was tearing through the city with reckless abandon.

Lois hesitated for a split second, torn between confronting Y/N and rushing to cover the story. The journalist in her won out, and she turned to run towards the action, but not before shooting Y/N one last look, a promise that this conversation wasn’t over.

Y/N let out a shaky breath, but there was no time to dwell on what Lois had seen. The battle was escalating, and the destruction was growing worse by the second. He knew he had to do more, had to use his magic more openly if he wanted to save lives. The fear of exposure warred with his instinct to help, but his desire to help won out.

As Y/N wove his way through the chaos, he could feel his magic surging within him, responding to his need to act. With each subtle spell, he could feel the pressure mounting, the risk of being discovered growing with every passing moment. But he couldn't stop, not when so many lives were at stake.

As Y/N moved through the chaos, helping people where he could, he lost himself in the urgency of the moment. He pulled a child out of harm's way, extinguished small fires with a flick of his wrist, and used his magic to steady a teetering scaffold that was threatening to collapse onto a group of bystanders. Every action was instinctual, his focus so intense that he didn’t even notice how close he was getting to the epicenter of the danger.

Meanwhile, Superman was engaged in a fierce battle with the villain, their clash sending shockwaves through the city. Clark’s attention was divided, trying to subdue the threat while keeping an eye on his friends below. But in the midst of the fight, he noticed Y/N inching dangerously close to the conflict.

“Y/N, get back!” Superman shouted, his voice strained with panic as he saw Y/N unwittingly step into the path of a collapsing billboard that had been dislodged during the battle.

Time seemed to slow as Clark realized he wouldn’t reach Y/N in time, especially with his opponent actively trying to block his way. His heart pounded in his chest, fear gripping him like a vice. But just as the massive billboard was about to crush him, Y/N’s instincts kicked in.

Without even thinking, Y/N threw up his hands, and a powerful force field erupted around him, deflecting the billboard away and sending it crashing harmlessly to the ground. The magic burst out of him like a tidal wave, raw and unfiltered, saving him in the nick of time.

The impact of what had just happened hit Y/N all at once. He stood there, breathless and trembling, staring at the spot where the billboard had fallen. His heart raced as he realized how close he’d come to being crushed—and how easily he had saved himself with powers.

Superman, who had seen the entire event unfold, hovered in the air, momentarily stunned. His mind raced, trying to comprehend what he had just witnessed. Y/N had powers—real, undeniable powers. And in that instant, a dozen memories from their time together in Smallville flashed through his mind, moments that suddenly made sense in a new, startling way.

The villain took advantage of Superman’s distraction, launching one final attack. But Superman, fueled by a surge of determination, quickly regained focus. With a swift, powerful strike, he knocked the villain off his feet, sending him crashing to the ground, unconscious and defeated.

The battle was over, but the tension in the air was far from dissipated.

Superman landed softly on the ground, his eyes never leaving Y/N. The adrenaline from the fight was still coursing through him, but now it was mixed with a cocktail of emotions—shock, confusion, and something deeper, something more personal.

Y/N looked up, locking eyes with Superman for the first time. The two of them stood there, surrounded by the remnants of the battle, but it felt as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of them.

“Y/N,” Superman began, his voice uncharacteristically shaky. He took a step forward, but before he could say more, Lois and Jimmy rushed over, their faces a mix of concern and relief.

Superman took a step toward Y/N, his mind racing with questions, but before he could say more, Lois and Jimmy rushed over, their faces a mix of concern and urgency.

"Superman," Lois called out, her voice edged with urgency as she glanced around. "We’re in the middle of the street. People are starting to notice."

Jimmy nodded, his camera hanging by his side as he scanned the area. “Yeah, maybe we should take this somewhere a little less… public.”

Superman blinked, realizing the gravity of the situation. There were indeed a few onlookers, phones out, capturing the aftermath of the battle. The last thing he needed was more attention, especially with Y/N’s secret now out in the open.

He turned to Y/N, his eyes filled with both concern and determination. “Y/N, we need to talk. But not here. Do you trust me?”

Y/N, still shaken from everything that had happened, hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Yeah, I trust you.”

Superman gave him a small, reassuring smile before glancing back at Lois and Jimmy. “I’ll explain everything later, but right now, I need to get Y/N out of here.”

Lois gave a curt nod, understanding the need for discretion. “We’ll cover for you. Just… be careful.”

Jimmy shot Y/N a quick thumbs-up, though his expression was tinged with curiosity and concern. “We’ll handle the crowd. Go.”

With a final nod, Superman wrapped an arm around Y/N’s waist, holding him securely. “Hold on tight.”

Before Y/N could fully process what was happening, they were airborne, the ground falling away as Superman lifted them into the sky. The wind rushed past them as they soared above the city, the chaos of the battle below quickly becoming a distant memory.

Y/N clung to Superman, his heart racing not just from the flight but from the whirlwind of emotions and revelations that had just unfolded. He had always admired Superman from afar, but now, being so close, knowing that this was Clark—it was almost too much to take in.

They flew in silence, the cityscape sprawling out beneath them, until finally, Superman began to descend, landing gently on the rooftop of the Daily Planet building. The iconic globe loomed above them, casting long shadows in the setting sun.

Superman set Y/N down carefully, stepping back to give him space. For a moment, they just stood there, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between them.

Clark, still in his Superman suit but with the familiar warmth of his old friend in his eyes, took a step closer. “I know. It’s a lot to take in. For both of us.”

Y/N nodded, his mind racing with a thousand questions. “So, you're Superman?”

A faint blush along with his nervous smile appeared on his face, a glimpse of the boy Y/N had known. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."

A moment of silence passed before Y/N spoke again, "I really don't get how people don't catch on faster. The only visible difference is the glasses," he said, gesturing to the frames on Clark's face.

Clark looked confused for a moment, "Wait, huh? Did you know?"

"Well, not for sure. But I had my suspicions. I mean, the glasses, the timing of your disappearances, the fact that you were never around whenever Superman showed up... it wasn't exactly hard to put the pieces together. But, I didn't know until I saw you up close. Until now, whenever you were Superman, I wasn't close enough to get a good look. Then, you were right in front of me, and well, it was like, 'Oh yeah, that makes complete sense,'" Y/N admitted, rambling a little.

"Oh," was all Clark could manage, a sheepish look on his face.

"Why did you never tell me?" Y/N asked, his voice soft.

Clark sighed, his expression conflicted. "I wanted to, believe me. But it's not exactly something I can just go around telling people. And after everything that happened back in Smallville, I didn't want to put you in any more danger. I guess, we were both keeping secrets."

Y/N paused for a moment, now realizing the irony of the situation before laughing under his breath, "Sneaky little bastard strikes again."

"Huh?"

"Nothing, just a little joke to myself," Y/N explained, before pausing and looking at his friend, taking in his entire superhero appearance, "Wow, looking at you now, and thinking back to everything, everything now makes so much sense."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you being able to stop cars without getting injured. Or people always calling your parents to ask for you when their tractor was broken down. And that time you and Suzy were playing in Old Man Ferris's field and he almost mowed her over with the shredder but you saved her and broke the shredder in the process. I always thought it was weird, but now, it's obvious," Y/N said, his tone a mixture of amusement and disbelief.

"I mean, it could've just been weak metal," Clark tried to argue, but the blush creeping up his neck betrayed his embarrassment.

"Clark, no offense, but anyone else verse that shredder would've been minced meat. And yet, one run-in with you and it had been totaled with no chance of repair. Which, did he ever get a new one?"

"Yeah, the town all chipped in to get him one while my parents got him insurance on it for a year as an apology."

"Hmm, you know for the amount of weird things that have gone on in that town between you and me alone, you'd think someone would've said something or freaked out," Y/N commented, shaking his head.

"Yeah, well, Smallville is a weird place," Clark chuckled, a hint of nostalgia in his voice.

"That it is," Y/N agreed, a fond smile tugging at his lips.

Clark cleared his throat while rubbing the back of his neck, "I guess things also make sense for you too. All those times that lights and power in school went out after you got angry, things disappearing and reappearing in random places, and that one time you got in an argument with a squirrel. Can you talk to animals with your powers?"

"Okay, first of all, we didn't have to bring that specific instance up. You remember everyone made fun of me for like a month after that happened. And either way, that squirrel had it coming," Y/N said, a slight pout on his face.

"It was a squirrel, Y/N."

"And it was a jerk!"

"How was it a jerk?"

"It kept throwing acorns at me and always running at me like it wanted to fight. I can't understand animals naturally unless there's a spell for it that I just haven't figured out, but they do seem to gravitate towards me for whatever reason. But, that squirrel had it out for me since freshman year and I was just trying to defend myself," Y/N argued, his voice taking on a slightly whiny tone.

"By arguing with it?"

"Well, yes," Y/N said, crossing his arms, "But, it was a very heated argument."

"If you say so," Clark laughed, his eyes bright with amusement.

Clark's laughter filled the air, and for a moment, it felt like they were back in Smallville, two friends joking around like they used to. But the reality of their situation quickly settled back in, and the weight of everything that had happened—everything that had been revealed—hung between them.

"So, magic," Clark said after a beat, his tone more serious. "I can't believe you were hiding that all these years."

Y/N shrugged, looking down at his feet. "It wasn't exactly something I could just go around telling people. Especially not in Smallville. I barely understood it myself, and my parents were terrified of what might happen if anyone found out. They were always worried that some government agency would swoop in and take me away if I ever slipped up."

Clark nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I get that. My parents had similar fears about me. We were both trying to protect each other, in our own way."

"Yeah," Y/N agreed quietly. He glanced up at Clark, a hesitant smile on his face. "It's kind of ironic, isn't it? Both of us with these...abilities and we never knew about each other."

Clark smiled back, but there was something in his eyes—something that made Y/N's heart skip a beat. "I wish I had known," Clark said softly. "Maybe things would have been different."

"Maybe," Y/N echoed, the word hanging in the air between them.

A comfortable silence settled over them, the kind that only old friends could share. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm glow over the city. Y/N found himself getting lost in the moment, in the quiet presence of his friend, the tension of the past few weeks slowly ebbing away.

But then Clark spoke again, his voice filled with an emotion that Y/N couldn't quite place. "You know, I've always felt like there was something more between us. Even back then."

Y/N's breath caught in his throat. He looked at Clark, his eyes searching his friend's face for any sign that he might be joking, but all he saw was sincerity. "What do you mean?"

Clark hesitated as if trying to find the right words. "I mean... I've always cared about you, Y/N. More than just as a friend."

The confession hung in the air, and Y/N's heart pounded in his chest. He had dreamed of hearing those words for so long, but now that they were here, he didn't know how to respond. His feelings for Clark had been buried deep for years, hidden away to protect both himself and their friendship.

"Clark, I..." Y/N began, but his voice faltered. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I care about you too. A lot. But this—" He gestured to the city below them, to Superman’s suit, to everything around them. "This is complicated. Our lives are so different now."

Clark stepped closer, his expression earnest. "I know it’s complicated. But maybe we can figure it out together."

Y/N looked into Clark's eyes, seeing the hope and the warmth there, and for a moment, he allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, they could make this work. He thought about all the things they had been through, the secrets they had kept, the bond that had never really broken despite the years and the distance.

He smiled softly, his heart finally settling into a steady rhythm. "I'd like that," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Clark's smile was brighter than the sunset behind him, and Y/N felt a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the fading sunlight. For the first time in a long while, things felt right. Complicated, yes, but right.

But before they could say anything more, the door to the rooftop burst open, and Lois and Jimmy came rushing in, both looking out of breath and a little frantic.

"Clark! Y/N!" Lois called out, her eyes wide as she took in the scene before her. "You guys okay? We’ve been looking everywhere for you."

"Yeah, we’re fine," Clark said, quickly stepping back from Y/N, though he couldn’t quite hide the smile on his face.

Jimmy glanced between the two of them, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "You know, you guys really should be more careful. The paparazzi would have a field day if they caught Superman having a heart-to-heart with some random guy on a rooftop."

Lois rolled her eyes but nodded in agreement. "He's right. We should get off this rooftop before someone spots us."

Clark looked at Y/N, his expression a mix of reluctance and agreement. "Yeah, you're right." He turned back to Y/N, his voice softening. "We'll talk more later, okay?"

Y/N nodded, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nervousness about what that conversation would bring. "Yeah, later."

With that, they all made their way back down to the city, where the chaos of the day had finally settled. But even as they stepped back into the world, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that something significant had shifted between them.

And for the first time, he was ready to see where it would lead.

☀️ | Clark Kent/Superman | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

[azrielbrainrot]

Old Habits

Pairing: Lucien x F!Reader

Kinktober 2024: Public Sex

Description: You and Lucien can't seem to stay away from each other.

Warnings: Smut, vaginal sex, public sex, fingering for like a second, dirty talk

Word Count: ~1,4k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Kinktober 2024 Mastelist

“We shouldn't be doing this,” you murmur, trying your best to hold onto your sanity.

Lucien's chuckle sounds muffled against your skin, his teeth busy marking your neck as his hands roam under your dress, only using his hips to hold you up against the door. You really needed to push him away, anyone could find you here, but for some reason your body was unwilling to listen, your head falling back against the door.

“That has never stopped you before.”

You hate that he's right, almost as much as you hate yourself for letting him touch you like this. Lucien had a hold over you, that much was obvious, which is why you should have left the minute you saw him walk into the banquet hall, his mismatched eyes finding yours immediately, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. You were a bit ashamed that all it took was a few sinful words whispered in your ear and he was leading you out of the hall and into this empty closet with a hand on the small of your back.

Calling what you had a relationship was giving it too much credit. You were both drawn to each other like moths to a flame, but you had never truly made it official since you were so different in almost every meaningful aspect of your personalities. The only time you could spend more than a few minutes without arguing was when you were fucking, and Gods, was the sex amazing. It shouldn't be fair that this male that annoyed you to no end could also play your body like it was made just for him.

A particularly hard bite has you letting out a gasp, your hand tangling in his hair so you could get him away from your neck at least. Keeping quiet and hiding his scent from you would be hard enough, you didn't need his teeth carved into your skin as well.

“Why don't we make a bet?” Lucien asks after you pull him away, looking into your eyes with arrogance. “If I put my hand in your panties and don't find you wet for me, I'll stop and walk away.”

Your glare sharpens, a fire burning behind your eyes as if you were the one with the Autumn Court powers. You both knew what he'd find, your scent was almost overbearing in this cramped room, sickly sweet with arousal. His hand drags up your thigh teasingly, raising goosebumps on its way, and when he finally reaches your covered cunt, his smirk widens, the soaked fabric clinging to your folds, a shiver running through your body as he traces the valley between them.

“Oh princess,” he taunts, a victorious look etching itself over his features, one that unfortunately made him even more annoyingly attractive. “I think you missed me more than you'd like to admit.”

You both know you did, you missed his touch and the sweet words he whispers in your ear, the way his hands caress your skin and how perfectly his cock fits inside you. You both knew you couldn't stay away from each other, not for long. You just wished he didn't accept his fate so easily, that he also felt at least a bit embarrassed of the effect you had on him.

“Just fuck me, Lucien,” you murmur defeatedly, closing your eyes and taking in a deep breath. There was no use denying how much you needed him.

“There's my girl.”

A whine escapes your lips, his hand moving into your underwear as soon as the words leave his mouth, expert fingers spreading your wetness around and circling your clit, only to feel you tremble against him, your nails biting into his shoulders.

“Look at me, pretty,” he says, an uncharacteristically serious tone falling over his voice. “At least let me watch you if this is all I'm allowed.”

When you open your eyes, you find sincerity in his, and something else, something you couldn't handle. Leaning closer, you take his lips between yours, letting each stroke of his tongue against yours make you forget everything. His hand doesn't stop, two of his fingers finding their way into your cunt, prompting a gasp out of you, one he readily swallows.

“Fuck me, Lucien,” you whisper once again when you pull apart, brushing his lips with every word.

“You sound so sweet when you're not lying to yourself.”

Lucien pecks your lips one more time before he leans back, his hand abandoning you as he unbuttons his pants and pulls his cock out. You can't even see what he's doing, trying your best to keep your legs wrapped around his waist, helping him keep you pressed against the wall and your dress up out of the way.

Just the feeling of his head pressing at your entrance was enough to get a mewl out of you, it really had been too long. He guides his cock inside you with ease, you're so wet he hardly finds any resistance, only letting you adjust for a moment, cooing at how well you take him, before his hips start moving, his eyes never straying from yours.

You were biting your lip so hard you're surprised that it didn't break skin, trying your best to keep quiet when he was so deep inside you. Of course Lucien wasn't having that, angling his hips to hit just the right spot, the one that made you lose your mind, his tongue finding your neck again, licking at the marks he's left behind, humming when your fingers tangled in his hair again, this time holding his face to your skin instead of pulling away.

The party was still very much alive in the banquet hall, but it was also getting late enough that people started wandering about, some to find a quieter place and others for the exact same reason you were locked in this closet. There was no doubt in your mind that anyone that walked into this side of the building could hear you, could smell you even.

“Let it out for me,” he mumbles against your skin, his thumb finding your clit again, rolling it around gently as he grinds into you, whimpers pushing past your lips no matter how hard you try to keep them down. He knew exactly how to touch you, this wasn't a fair fight.

“Lucien,” you moan out, heavy lidded eyes staring into his. Your clothes were too hot and getting in the way, and you could barely move since he still had you pinned against the door as he fucked you. His body moved deliciously against yours, but he radiated too much heat, the fire in his veins singing with every thrust, droplets of sweat rolling down your back and chest, hair sticking to your face. The air in this cramped room felt intoxicating with both of your scents, making you feel even more delirious every time you breathed it in, but in that moment you didn't care, in that moment you felt like you had reached heaven.

“Fuck, there you go. Let everyone know who you belong to,” he lets out, voice deeper with pleasure, keeping his pace so he could push as many of your sweet noises as he could past your lips, holding your gaze as he fucked you close to insanity. “You've always been such a good toy for me. So fucking perfect for me.”

You lose track of yourself as he keeps kissing your neck, murmuring praises against your overheated skin, thumb circling your clit in time with his deep but controlled thrusts. Your high finds you almost unexpectedly, threatening to take your breath away as your head falls back against the dark wood. Moans and whimpers flow past your lips unattended, echoing around the room, mind too empty to care about anything but how good he was making you feel.

Lucien fucks you through it, soothing you through gritted teeth as your cunt fluttered wildly around his cock and your body trembled against his, only stopping when you're shaking too much, mewls escaping you and nails sinking into his skin as sensitivity started showing its teeth, pumping his cum deep into you, holding you closer to him.

He leans his forehead against yours, catching your breaths as you both come down back to earth, his cock still seated inside you, and your arms wrapped around him, holding him so close you could feel his heart beating in his chest. At least in these moments you were all that mattered, and everything felt perfect.

[blakeswritingimagines]

You're Dealing With A Goddess

Summary: When no offer is made to the old dragon goddess, she takes matters into her own hands.

Warnings: Fear play, Dub-Con, Dom Rhaenyra, Sub Fem reader, Fingering, Aphrodisiac, Anal play, Eating you out if you squint.

Word Count: 3.3k

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

The village is a small farming community located in the Riverlands, perhaps near Harrenhal. The village is largely ignored by the rest of the Seven Kingdoms, however, they do have several run-ins with a dragon that likes to come by and wreak havoc and get its sacrifices from innocent locals. As you step out of your humble home in the small village nestled deep within the heart of the kingdom, you can feel the weight of the oppressive atmosphere hanging over it like a thick cloak. The villagers go about their daily routines with a sense of resignation and fear etched onto their faces. They know all too well the terror that comes with living under the shadow of the dragon that demands a human sacrifice once every year. You hear whispers among the villagers about how the dragon has grown increasingly impatient with the delay in fulfilling its annual demand for a life taken from their midst. It's clear that time is running out and the tension in the air is palpable. "What's going on?" You ask innocently.

The villagers looked at each other with worry on their faces. "The dragon's hunger will not be denied," they whispered. You realize now that the village hasn't offered up their sacrificial victim yet, and the dragon's hunger grows with each passing moment. The large figure of the dragon looms over the village, its massive form casting ominous shadows as it surveys the scene below. Its cold gaze takes in everything, missing nothing as it waits patiently for what it knows will come eventually. As the day wears on and the sun begins to set, the dragon lets out an impatient roar, signaling that its patience is reaching its limits. The sound sends a chill down the spine of everyone in the village, including you. They know all too well what happens when the dragon gets angry - homes are destroyed, livestock is consumed, and people are killed or enslaved. With each passing minute, the tension in the air grows thicker, making it harder to breathe or think clearly. Feeling the weight of the dragon's presence pressing down on you, you start to panic a bit. Your mind races with fear and anxiety as you try to come up with a plan to save yourself and your fellow villagers from certain doom. You look around at the other terrified villagers and realize that they are just as helpless as you are against such a powerful creature. The thought of being chosen as the sacrificial offering sends shivers down your spine, but you know that there's no point in hiding or trying to escape since the dragon can easily detect any attempt to flee. You decide that your only option left is to accept your fate and hope for the best.

The dragon takes a few more steps towards the center of the village, its claws scraping against the ground as it approaches. Its cold breath billows out in clouds that freeze whatever they touch. The villagers huddle together, looking for safety in numbers while also trying not to draw attention to themselves. As night falls and the dragon finally makes its way into the middle of the town square, it raises one massive foot and places it firmly on top of a nearby building, causing it to crumble into dust and debris. The sound of the collapse echoes through the streets, adding to the general feeling of dread and despair. The sound of the collapsing building causes the entire village to freeze in terror as they watch in horror, not daring to even breathe loud enough to be heard. When the dust settles, the villagers look around at each other in fear and silence. No one says anything, because they know that saying something wrong might attract the wrath of the monstrous beast. They sit in complete silence waiting for the inevitable.

The villagers gasped in shock and horror as the building collapsed, their faces filled with terror and disbelief. They realize that the moment of truth has arrived, and anyone could be chosen as the dragon's next meal. You feel your heart rate increase as you try to remain calm and focused despite the fear coursing through your veins. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to find the inner strength needed to face your fate head-on. As the dragon moves through the streets, its gaze sweeping over the gathered crowd of villagers, they can almost feel its power emanating from its body. It takes its time, taking its time to inspect each person carefully before making a decision. The longer it takes, the more nervousness and anxiety grip the villagers. Children start to cry, adults start to pray, and some people start to consider desperate measures in hopes of avoiding the monster's wrath. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, the dragon stops in front of you. You find the courage to look into its piercing eyes without flinching.

Your heart skips a beat as the dragon speaks directly to you. You swallow hard and force yourself to look the monstrous creature in the eye, trying not to show any signs of weakness or fear. Despite your bravado, you can't help but feel a bit terrified as you realize that your time has come. "Me?" You ask hesitantly, not quite believing that you've been chosen as the offering. The thought of being eaten alive or whatever was planned by such a massive creature fills you with a mix of horror and dread, but you know that there's no use resisting or fighting back. You must submit to your fate with grace and dignity, especially since the dragon seems to find you acceptable as a sacrifice. The dragon moves with surprising speed and agility, considering its massive size. In just a few strides, it carries you away from the village and deeper into the surrounding forest. As they move further into the darkness, you can't help but feel a mix of fear and curiosity about where exactly the dragon plans to take you. "Stay quiet," the dragon growls warningly, its voice like an earthquake rumbling in your ears. It's clear that any disobedience or resistance would be met with immediate punishment. After what seems like hours of walking through the dense forest, the dragon stops in front of a large cave entrance. With a deft motion, it releases one of its arms from around your neck and uses it to push you inside the dark opening.

As the dragon enters the cave, you can hear the sound of water dripping and see flickering torchlight dancing on the walls. The smell of damp earth and decaying vegetation fills your nose, making you feel a bit queasy. Despite your fear, you remain mostly composed as you follow the dragon deeper into the cave. When it stops in front of a large rock formation that serves as a natural altar, you realize that this is where you'll be offered up as a sacrifice. The dragon sets you down gently on the altar, positioning your legs apart and restraining your hands above your head with one of its arms. Its other hand reaches out and grazes your cheek softly before moving to wrap around your throat, preventing any chance of escape or protest. The dragon moves around the altar, preparing for the ritualistic part of the offering. Its free hand retrieves a small knife from somewhere within the cave, and then it returns to stand between your spread legs. The tip of the blade hovers dangerously close to your throat, ready to make the first incision should you try anything foolish. "Now," the dragon commands, "stay still and let this happen." It leans down and nuzzles against your neck, inhaling deeply before starting the process of cutting into your exposed flesh.

The dragon's massive form looms over you, its presence dominating the entirety of the cave. Its hot breath washes over your exposed skin, making you feel terrified. As the dragon's body starts to shift and change, its scales rearrange themselves into a more human-like form. In moments, the dragon is gone, replaced by a tall and slender woman with long, silver hair that cascades down her back. She wears a flowing black dress adorned with intricate gold patterns, accentuating her curves and highlighting her ample bosom and narrow waist. As the dragon transforms into Rhaenyra Targaryen, you find yourself both amazed and terrified. The transformation is so sudden and complete that it takes a few moments for you to process what has happened. You see the beautiful woman standing before you, her body almost ethereal in its beauty and elegance, and realize that you are about to become a living sacrifice to this mythical figure. The thought of being consumed by such a powerful and alluring creature fills you with fear, and you struggle to maintain control over your emotions.

Rhaenyra Targaryen moves closer to you, taking in every detail of your exposed body with an intense curiosity. Her silver eyes lock onto your frightened ones, studying them carefully as if you were a work of art. As she gets within reach, Rhaenyra's hand extends and gently traces one finger along the curve of your chest, causing your heart rate to accelerate even further. "Do not be afraid," she whispers softly, "for I am not here to harm you… much." Without warning, Rhaenyra's other hand reaches down and cups one of your breasts, squeezing it gently but firmly. Despite your fear and anxiety, you feel a surge of arousal as Rhaenyra's hand touches your breast. The sensation is foreign and overwhelming, but not entirely unpleasant. You find yourself unable to look away from those captivating eyes as they continue to study you with an air of curiosity and desire. You stutter, "w-what do y-you plan to do with me? Eat me or use me as your plaything?" You don't know why, but there's something about Rhaenyra's alluring presence that makes you want to please her, even in the face of certain death.

Rhaenyra's touch is both tantalizing and intimidating, leaving you feeling both aroused and terrified. The combination of pleasure and pain is exhilarating, and despite your fear, you can't help but crave more of the woman's attention. As you hear Rhaenyra's assurance that you're being honored to be devoured by such a magnificent creature, a small part of you starts to believe it too. Rhaenyra's free hand moves lower, brushing against the wetness between your legs before finally settling on one of your inner thighs. She spreads your legs wider apart, exposing you completely to her gaze. You couldn't help but let out a soft moan, unable to resist the sensation of cool fingers teasing your sensitive folds. The combination of arousal and fear creates an intoxicating cocktail of emotions that leaves you feeling both vulnerable and empowered. You wonder if this is how people feel when they're about to be consumed by something so powerful and overwhelming. Rhaenyra's other hand continues to massage and squeeze your breast gently while her fingers slowly penetrate your dripping pussy. The contrast of pleasure and impending doom makes your heart race faster and your breathing become more labored. "I… I'm ready.."

Rhaenyra's hand continues to explore your wetness, her fingers expertly probing and teasing at the entrance to your pussy. She watches with a mixture of fascination and desire as you react to her touch, her own arousal growing stronger with each passing moment. As she feels you start to come apart under her ministrations, Rhaenyra decides it's time to make things official. "Open your legs wider," she commands softly, "and let me see everything." She removes her hand from your breast and moves it to grip one of your hips firmly, pushing you further onto the altar table and exposing you completely to Rhaenyra's gaze. You comply without hesitation, spreading your legs wide open and baring everything to Rhaenyra's unblinking inspection. You can feel the heat radiating off of Rhaenyra's body as she stands above you, looking like an ancient goddess come to life. Your breath catches in your throat as Rhaenyra's eyes fixate on your dripping pussy and glistening clit. The combination of fear and anticipation makes your pussy twitch and leak even more, adding to the visceral display of your readiness. Rhaenyra's free hand reaches down and wraps around one of your thighs, pulling you closer to her face so she can breathe in the scent of your arousal.

Rhaenyra's hand focuses solely on exploring your pussy, running her fingers deep inside of you and gripping onto the outer lips with a gentle force that suggests she won't be gentle for very long. As you come apart beneath her touch, Rhaenyra watches with rapt attention, her expression a mix of excitement and hunger. She pulls her hand away from your soaked crotch and stands up, stepping back slightly to admire the sight of you lying helplessly on the altar table. "Such a delicious offering," she murmurs, "I can hardly wait to taste you." As Rhaenyra steps back to admire her naked and vulnerable offering, you lie there panting heavily, your body still quaking from the aftershocks of your orgasm. You feel like a piece of meat being displayed in a marketplace, and the thought excites and terrifies you at the same time. You watched as Rhaenyra approached a bowl of liquid on the side of the altar table and dipped her fingers into it, coating them with a mysterious substance. "What are you doing?" You ask breathlessly, not able to take your eyes off the woman's mesmerizing movements.

Rhaenyra finishes dipping her fingers into the bowl and walks back over to where you lie on the altar table, your body still trembling from your recent climax. She brings her coated fingers close to your face and holds them just out of reach, allowing you to catch a whiff of the sweet scent emanating from them. The scent is intoxicating, a heady mix of honey and vanilla that seems to cloud your mind and heighten your arousal even further. As Rhaenyra moves closer, she leans down and places one of her coated fingers against your lips, urging you to take a taste of the delectable substance. A predatory grin on her face. Her body looms over your prone form like a predator stalking its prey. With a slow, deliberate motion, she brings one of her slick-covered fingers to just outside of your entrance and then pushes it inside, stretching your walls gently before pulling it out again. "I'm preparing myself," she explains simply, "to consume you."

As Rhaenyra's slick-coated finger enters your tight entrance, you gasp and arch your back, feeling both pleasurable pressure and a sense of dread building within you. You watched in awe as the woman stretched your walls apart, getting ready to devour you completely. The idea of being consumed by such a powerful and alluring creature sends shivers down your spine, making your body tense with anticipation and excitement. "Are you really going to eat me?" You breathlessly ask, unable to contain your curiosity or your growing arousal. And with that, she pushes another finger inside of your pussy, filling you completely with her presence. Rhaenyra nods, her eyes locked onto yours as she continues to insert more fingers into your waiting pussy. She can feel the tightness surrounding her digits giving way slowly but surely, allowing her to penetrate deeper into your warm depths with each passing moment. "Yes, my dear," she replies softly, "I plan on consuming every last bit of you." She adds another finger, pushing even farther into your wet sheath until her thumb is resting against the entrance to your rear entrance. "And once I have tasted you, there will be nothing left for anyone else." Her words are spoken with a mixture of confidence and determination, conveying the unwavering certainty of her intentions.

As Rhaenyra's fingers fill you completely, pushing past the point of no return, you let out a soft moan and close your eyes, surrendering yourself completely to the experience. You feel a surge of heat and wetness flow through your core as you realize that you're being penetrated fully by the alluring woman standing above you. The sensation is both foreign and exhilarating, sending shivers down your spine and causing your heart rate to accelerate even further. "You… You're really going to eat me…" As Rhaenyra's thumb presses against the entrance to your rear entrance, you let out a gasp and open your eyes wide in surprise, unsure of what to expect next. Rhaenyra can feel the tightness and warmth enveloping her thumb. With a slow, deliberate movement, she pushes it inside, feeling the resistance give way as her digit slips inside. "Indeed I am," she confirms, "and soon I will have consumed every last inch of you." Her voice is low and seductive, almost hypnotic in its intensity. She adds another finger alongside her thumb, working to stretch out your tight muscles and prepare you for whatever may come next. "Now, close your eyes and relax," she instructs gently, "and think only of how good it feels to be eaten alive."

Rhaenyra continues to work her fingers and thumb inside your tight rear entrance, gradually increasing the pressure and depth of her penetration. She can feel the tension building in your body as she takes possession of both your front and back entrances, marking her territory and claiming her prize. "Such a delicious treat," she murmurs softly, "to consume someone so completely." Her voice is low and sultry, like a siren's call drawing you ever closer to the edge of climax. As Rhaenyra's fingers and thumb continue to penetrate you deeply, you let out a long, drawn-out moan and tossed your head back, exposing your throat to the altar table above you. Your body is now fully under the spell of the alluring woman's dominance, and you find yourself completely at her mercy. "Oh, Goddess…" You breathe, "I'm yours to do with as you please…" Your words are barely audible, lost in the maelstrom of pleasure washing over you, as you surrender completely to the sensations enveloping you.

Rhaenyra watches closely as you lie before her, eyes closed in anticipation and submission. She can sense your complete surrender and eagerness to be consumed, and it only serves to heighten her own arousal. "Very well," she says with a satisfied smile. With a single motion, Rhaenyra pulls her fingers and thumb out of your puckered back entrance, leaving you completely open and vulnerable to the ultimate act of consumption about to take place. She leans forward slightly, savoring the sight of your spread legs and glistening pussy before her, and then brings her mouth close to the gaping hole left behind by her digits. "time to feast."

Rhaenyra hears the whispered words from you and smiles wickedly, her eyes glinting with triumphant satisfaction. She knows she has claimed this beautiful sacrifice completely, and there is nothing that can stop her now from consuming every last inch of the trembling figure lying beneath her. "Such a devoted follower," she comments, "it's truly a pleasure to have captured someone so willing to be devoured." Her voice is a mix of amusement and lust, reflecting her delight in having complete control over your fate.

"Now." She says firmly, "Prepare for the ultimate act of submission – allowing me to take everything you have to offer." As Rhaenyra's voice declares that the time has come for you to offer up everything you have, you hesitate for a brief moment, then obediently lie still, waiting patiently for the alluring woman's next move. "Please… Consume me…" You whisper softly, not able to resist the overwhelming desire washing over you. The thought of being completely owned and possessed by Rhaenyra fills you with a sense of euphoric abandon, and you find yourself yearning for it with every fiber of your being. "Take everything I have to give…" You add, barely audibly, as you lay vulnerable and exposed upon the altar table, awaiting Rhaenyra's final command.

[popponn]

(some) bllk boys as cuddling partner — a rating list.

bachira — best cuddler/10. big spoon? he loves hugging you! little spoon? he loves being hugged by you! embracing each other, lying side by side while the two of you share whispers and quiet giggles? baby, he could do that all day. if he could, this guy would probably hold your hand or hug you all the time while dribbling a soccer ball. be thankful that's physically impossible because if it isn't nothing stops this bee from doing what he loves. honestly, the champion in this department. go home everyone. when he feels happy it's hug time when he is sad it's also hug time.

rin — if you guys just started out, 2/10. 1 point bonus because he is so stiff it's funny—the best deal you can get is him being a big spoon while sitting and doing something else. if he is focused on just cuddling you it will forgo being awkward to straight up comedic. but once he gets used to it, 7/10. his pride won't let him small spoon but he is a good big spoon. very relaxed around you, hand around your hips, head perched on your shoulder, and so on. the worst part of this is not even bad since it's just him getting the clingier, touch-starved part of him out so yeah. at least have 3 hours reserved for cuddles.

isagi — 10/10 no bias except this one is self-aware. 3/10 when starting out and that's like a bonus point for effort. when it's a short casual hug, it's easy and sweet for him. then put in private space, his shyness that wow turns out is still kinda there when it comes to you, and prolonged hug that becomes his main focus for an extended period then you get a statue instead of a bf. but get him comfy and it's instant 8/10 — is way too insistent and determined on "he needs to see your face :((" sometimes because yes he is accomodating 101 but this is egoist. but very clingy, very soft, very warm, very cuddly, very bf.

sae — when he is napping? you are his hug pillow. but even that is 6/10 because his hold on you is ironclad. and as his hug mostly comes in the form of a backhug—because cool fridge guy thing probably—he is trained to make you comfy. but yeah no escaping this guy. when he is awake though, getting him to cuddle or reciprocate your hug (in public, especially) is already a miracle. when you do though, 4/10 because at least he won't throw you like he will do to everyone else. just accept his fate as your doll. while sighing or flatly glare at anyone who dares to comment.

nagi — the runner-up!!! simply because that's like his natural habitat there. 9/10, minus 1 point because on lazy days, if he doesn't get his cuddle he will whine and become annoying. grubby hand is cute, a giant creature made of muscle putting all of his weight on your back while you try to move around doing your business is not. but other than that, really good as both a little spoon and big spoon. just hold him or let him hold you. he likes you enough that there is 50/50 chance of him completely forgetting his game to cuddle you how downbad is that.

[voidcat]

assigned knight!mithrun x royalty gn!reader – hcs and blurbs

a/n: this was supposed to be just some hcs but ended up as a 2.7k beast... nsfw content by the last third/half so minors do not interact ! and to clarify mc is one of the youngest of their family but age wise they're close to mithrun.

renowed hero mithrun, one of the big talents who fought bravely during the war. mithrun who is left broken afterwards, losing all his purposes, all his senses, the deaths he witnessed, the news he received. at the frontlines, he receives news of his brother and his beloved marrying– no longer his beloved now, is she? he feels something inside him break but has to ignore it all away. he was never meant for the throne, not when his brother is in such a state, unable to wield a sword, when there is war raging at all sides, when people need to be led and to be supported at the frontlines.

mithrun who resembles an empty shell now, unsure how to carry on from then on, until one of the kings he fought side by side invites him among their ranks, their kin. "let us be your new home, and you can spend the rest of your days at ease, come now, honorary knight mithrun of house karansil, the leading hero, finishing slash of this war." no reason to refuse, he simply accepts, he agrees to becoming one of king's younger kids' assigned knight. maybe another task like this, this need to watch and protect will give him a sense of purpose, an excuse to keep on living.

and here enters you, the young royal, so oblivious, so unknowing to all those happening around you, not a single care and isolated from the world, you spend your days at the castle, strolling gardens, sketching and reading whenever you can, make a face at the slightest topic of future and marriages. aware of the unstoppable future that awaits you, the fate no royal can escape– save for those who are unelligable, those who fall ill and die or those like mithrun, no longer a part of their own kingdom. the young royal and their knight joint at the hip soon enough, days and weeks pass, years come by and you two never seperate.

loyal knight mithrun who always walks by your side, tailing behind like a shadow and the young royal, they still call you, that walks without a care in the world; who helps him to stop and smell the flowers again, talk over red poppies and shed tears together in seclusion, sneak desserts from the kitchens and taste the sun on berries while taking shelter in the shadow of great oaks, whom he chases after literally and figuratively– he agreed to become a knight, because by default they live by a single purpose, but mithrun notices himself finding his purpose again in the shape of your smile. how your chest moves up and down at night, how you tense and whisper to yourself when plagued by night horrors.

loyal knight mithrun always found next to you, holding your hand when you climb down the stairs, wrapping an arm around and pulling you closer to him when you cannot sleep at night. your breathing a lullaby to his ears, and you a source of comfort to him, as much as he is to you. as goal oriented as he is, and with the war dulling his senses and entire being, he was in a way, the perfect knight, just a man crafted of his duty and nothing else. And with abilities like his, he could come to your aid in no time, carve out the eyes that look at you the wrong way.

Yet as you nurse him back to reality, intentionally or not, he finds anxiety and guilt eating at him with each passing day. The same acts you once performed, he feels himself unable to respond with the same nonchalance now. When you bring another berry to his lips for him to eat, he does his best to take it from your hands without his lips making contact with your fingertips. He does his best to look away when you lick off the excess nectar dripping from the peach you’ve just eaten, even just standing outside your door grows harder and harder, his keen sense of smell betraying him and his body.

You should be guilty too, for not noticing how you’re tormenting him.

Preparing for bath, you take off your clothes, let your private garments drop to the floor like it’s nothing. Stepping into the bathtub, taking your sweet time as you do so, leaning your head backwards and letting out a content sigh— “Mithrun!” You call up to him in a sudden, eyes wide open, “can I ask you something?”

In fear of words betraying him, he settles for a nod. Making a gesture with your hand reachimg out, you signal for him to come closer. Hand diving into his hair like always, stroking his face, his cheeks and over his eyes, “when was the last time you have taken a bath?” You ask, giving him a curious gaze.

As he tries battling for an answer to give you, because if he knows you, he knows what will come after this and he is unsure his poor heart can survive it. “Ah, usually at night when you’re—“ “stop lying, I know you wait by my side every night too.” You cut him off.

Bringing a finger to your lips, you pretend to think. “Oh, I know! There is plenty of space here, why don’t you take a bath with me? Maintaining appearances is important, it keeps you refreshed and ready for everything, no?”

When you stare at him with big, begging eyes, words laced with concern adn worry, and all of it just for him, he finds himself unable to move, until he catches sight of you trying to take his armor off and drag him into the water with you.

There is plenty of space for more than one person, but you stand glued to his side, your warm body pressed up against his, fingers in his hair massaging his scalp, your fingertips tracing over his old scars. Mithrun finds himself vulnerable to your touch, soft and laced with love, colder than the water, sending electric down his spine every time.

Your father, the king, dotes on you and always brags about his trusted knight Mithrun at banquets. Raising a glass in honor of the man who saved his life and protects the life of one of his treasures— not knowing the same man is guilty of growing an attachment to the said treasure. every time the king or an elder praises him for not just past accomplishments but for his current post, he feels guilt beginning to bloom and grow– the knight supposedly in charge of you, protecting and shielding you from bad eyes strrugles to stand by your side at night.

should you really be wearing a nightgown see-through and light, he wants to ask, with just a little breeze you'd catch a cold in no time, he tries to rationalize his thoughts; trying to wipe off the images, how the moon shines down on you, how the thin material sticks to your skin, presenting you before him. he feels the guilt toward you most of all, after everything he has lived through he has gained a bit of instincts and senses and yet he is still the same despicable man of the past; how he repays your kindness, your love and care– why, he remembers it like yesterday when you stroke his cheek and prosthetic eye, placed a kiss there and looked at him like he is still whole. as his affection for you grows, he wishes more and more to return to just the end of the war, when he was still hollow and indifferent toward you.

Mithrun realizes in many ways he is your first witness. First to see you get stung by bees, at which you asked for him to kiss it better, usually the first to see you getting sick, immediately calling in a medic to prepare for you a brew; first to cuddle you to sleep at nights, your head buried into his chest and your legs wrapped around his; first to guide you, first to help you explore the castle grounds, the city, banquets to come and even your body, at your request.

right outside your bedchambers one night, mithrun muses whether should he make a quick trip to his chambers. with the change of weather his usual armor and undergarment feel too thick. before he can teleport himself, muffled sounds of someone reaches his ears– out of breath and erratic, coming from no other direction than your chambers, the voice belonging only to you. frozen in place, he teleports himself into your room without a thought and finds himself nailed to his spot. the sight of you under the pale moonlight, a hand between your tighs, eyes closed shut and your face an expression he can only describe as 'pleasure'. mithrun has no clue for how long he stands there, stuck, feet glued to the floor, until you turn your head toward the door, eyes finding his and before he can see how you'll react, he teleports himself out– for hours he feels his beating frantic, threatening to burst out of his chest.

for the following days, he tries putting a distance between the two of you, replying with few words at most, avoiding your gaze, your touch like the plague. he can stand his guard only so long until he gives in, defeated by the sadness that takes over you after his sudden change of behavior. as if reading his mind, you do anything but drop the matter, eventually what he walked into coming to the surface as well. battling on the fields is easier, he thinks, there is only instincts, sharp and calculated moves, kill or be killed, conquer before you can be defeated– such is not the case outside war, and certainly not by your side, you always find a way to make things twice as difficult for him somehow. the scent of your body still haunts his senses and you have the courage to ask him what was going on with your body exactly!

you complain about all those people you see on castle grounds, exchanging gazes, holding hands, in the narrow hallways or the gardens, stealing kisses and using terms of endearment when conversing. not jealousy but yearning is apparent in your voice and he notices that much. it is not easy spending your whole life confined to a castle– even harder when you are a long life species, the hidden hallways remain a mystery only so long, few decades in and they lose all interest. "i couldn't sleep" you pout, "i was just lying down, must've thought myself in those scenes i often witness, and my hands were wandering around." your voice begins to drop with each word, "it was just trailing my fingers around until it felt... funny, and... ah... some sort of wetness, or so to speak." you finish shyly, turning your head away.

at your confession mithrun doesn't know how to react. such topics aren't exactly welcomed to be discussed so openly among your kind. burrowing his brows, he decides to take a simpler approach, from general to specific. "you see... our bodies have certain reactions reserved for certain situations." he does his best not to stammer over his words, does his absolute hardest to not make contact with those big, bright eyes of yours. "when we enter puberty, certain systems of ours go through changes to accomodate for new things we might experience in the future." one thing you have said bothers him though. "that was one of them. take that sensation you have described for example. it occurs so the act itself might take place easier and without causing discomfort for both sides." you seem to find his explanation helpful, judging from the smile slowly forming on your face. he can see the gears turning in your head, he hopes you reserve those new questions for the books you read.

"your highness, may i ask you something?" he blurts out, now or never. his formal way of addressing seems to catch you by surprise, he continues when seeing you nod. "if i won't be crossing any lines..." "there is no such thing as tha–" you say almost instinctively. "you said you were thinking, who was it?" he asks bluntly. "I..." your mouth opens and closes, head turned to the side, you cast your eyes downwards; he can see a blush creeping up. his ears pick up on you mumbling a 'no one' but he knows you are just deflecting now. if you are uncomfortable, he won't pry further. seeing him walk, you qucikly rush to his side, taking the arm he has offered you. "come now, what was it you said you wanted to do today? the greenhou–"

"could you lend me a helping hand actually!" you claim loudly in a sudden, fists clenched in excitement. "you know i would never refuse you as long as logi–" "i mean it, literally." you cut him off, emphasising on the word, and take his hand in yours, moving it in the air while giving him a determined look. considering the topic of conversation the two of you just had and now that... it doesn't take him long to connect two and two together. "a- absolutely not! i-" you will be the death of him, that's for sure. coughing few times, he tries gathering himself and catching breath. "your highness, acts such as the one you accidentally tried, are private matters. done by one's self or with a special one. you cannot just ask anyone that."

you bring your face closer to his, "i am not asking anyone, mithrun" you speak word by word, "i am asking you." the pronoun rolls off your lips like honey, poisoned. "when i say 'special', i mean a significant other, your highness." he adds the title at the end, already sounding defeated. you know exactly what he meant, why must you make things so difficult for him? "or a spouse, in our cases." he adds on, his gaze cast down, "though i doubt the same still applies for me." his voice comes out in a whisper, the unevitable future of an awaiting marriage haunts you both, and he wonders were he to return home, would he regain his title, be elligable for your hand after all.

in the end, he gives up. knight mithrun finds himself more vulnerable than before. lying in your bed, your body pressed against his with the both of you awake. bringing his hand to his lips, he licks his fingers and trails down your chest, your abdomen, down to your groin. feeling every crook, inch and curve of you, fingers moving smooth and slow, he drinks in your expressions, how your lips slightly part, pleasure taking over your entire body, how you grow wetter with each touch, each movement. he has to bring his other hand to your mouth at one point, it wouldn't be wise to have passerbys hear the sounds you make for him now. how you begin to whimper under his hand, small moans soon saying his name like a plea, 'more, more, more' you begin to chant– a symphony to his hears, he watches how your body begins to spasm in pleasure as you reach your high, coming all over his hand, making a mess.

bringing his hand to his lips, he licks his fingers, savoring your taste. with hazy eyes, you barely catch sight of him, your hand trying to make way to him. Mithrun sees your exhausted attemps and brings his cheek to your palm, the all-too-familiar gesture you grace him with on a daily basis; though rather than stroking, you try to pull him towards yourself. "oh? curious as to how you taste?"

the question leaves his mouth without a second thought, though you don't seem to register his words, too focused on his lips. giving his hand another, long lick; mithrun leans into you and for the first time his lips meet yours– your saliva mixing with his, your soft lips eagerly biting into him with wanton need, how that hand tries desperately to pull him even closer, you taste just as sweet everywhere, his taste buds decide. his lips meet yours once and does not let go ever, even when the two of you gasp for breath, oxygen loses all its purpose and though the thought should horrify him, he realizes and accepts easily: mithrun meets his demise at the mercy of you, far exceeding the point of no return.

[melminli]

Blueberry Tartlet

pairing: young coriolanus snow x reader

summery - coriolanus hated district scum, and he hated his longing to be near one. acting on his desires may be one of the things he wanted most, but doing so would mean that he had to betray himself.

word count: 1.2k

contains: district reader living in the capitol, fluff, coryo fighting his inner demons, slightly dark themes, coryo being a simp

part II

He hated this. He hated the atmosphere. He hated the lights, the loud voices around him, and even worse, he hated the way his eyes landed on a specific figure in the room every few minutes. Don't bother. You're just here to get something in your stomach. Coriolanus said to himself, smiling kindly for a moment as two of his teachers walked past him. It vanished as quickly as they passed him, and he took another sip from the glass of Posca in his hand so he wouldn't stand idly by. And maybe to maintain your reputation, but that's it.

Right after he finished that thought, his gaze found itself back to the spot he was trying to avoid, and he inwardly cursed himself for turning his very annoying behavior into a very annoying reflex. To his slight disappointment, his blue eyes could no longer make out the figure they were looking for, and for a brief moment, Coriolanus tried to convince himself that this was for the best. This was a good chance for him to keep his gaze away from any distractions for the rest of the evening.

"Hello, Coriolanus." Your voice suddenly appeared from his right side, unintentionally surprising the boy. "Is Sejanus not here? You're rarely seen without him at your side." You asked him and leaned with your elbows against the standing table where he was at.

All it took was a few seconds for the blond student to regain his composure and accept that this was actually better than his previous reasoning. Coriolanus could try to bullshit himself, but he wasn't stupid. "Well, I'm not really sure, to be honest, but we don't hang around that much." He replied with a charming smile as he met your gaze.

You, in your neatly pressed red school uniform and well-groomed appearance. You with your pretty smile and nice character. If he didn't know any better, he could easily mistake you for a Capitol citizen.

But he knew better. He should know better. You were exactly the same kind of animal he could watch in the Hunger Games like a spectator at a circus. Well, he doubted it was likely with your family's position here at the Capitol, but it could be you. Fighting for your life in a junk arena with rats, dying only to be remembered by no one but your own family, and not even getting the chance to have a dream for the future.

But here we are. You had more money than him, more clothes, more friends, and more of...everything really. Coriolanus didn't know which he loathed more, the fact that you were so lucky in life to escape your cruel fate as district filth or the fact that he sometimes stared absently around and imagined placing a kiss on the lips of such a person.

Maybe it was both.

You laughed. "The way you said it, makes it sound like you prefer it this way. Am I right? Do you rather prefer to be on your own?" You asked him and could actually imagine that quite well if you were being honest.

"I don't mind company." He simply replied and leaned a little closer to you. "If it's pleasant, of course."

Your eyes turned away briefly to look around the huge room. "Well, who likes unpleasant company?" You asked him as your gaze fell on one particular couple in the room. "You know what? I take that back. I suppose there are a few masochists among us who...crave it." You just said, not quite able to find the right words to express the scene in front of you.

Blue eyes followed your gaze and saw the two infamous people. "They're still together?" Coriolanus asked himself, slightly surprised but didn't really find it unexpected. "Didn't he cheat on her?" He whispered to you, thinking back to what he heard. "Like three times or something? Wasn't it like one time with her sister, too?"

You shook your head. "No, it was with her cousin, actually." A few seconds of silence followed. "Well, that certainly doesn't make it better, though. I don't know, I just don't think that it can be that good, you know?" You joked only to meet his confused expression. You could see him about to ask what you meant, but you didn't really want to go there. "Anyway, we can all agree that the two of them should break up."

Coriolanus just shrugged his shoulders. I don't know, it's kind of fun to watch. "I don't think they will. She's...too much in love with him."

Your eyebrows furrowed. "Can you really overlook things, just like that, though? Because of love? I find that hard to believe..." You mumbled to yourself, not liking the thought that much.

What you said reminded Coriolanus of reality again. That's right. You were a girl from District One. It was the closest to the Capitol and yet there was a clear line between them. His eyes watched your figure from the side. Well, certainly not clear enough.

Because of the war, it was almost impossible for the remaining rich people of the Capitol to get their hands on luxury goods. That was the task of District One, and they refused to continue playing slaves just so some ass could look pretty. If he remembered correctly, your mother was the only one who helped out the Capitol by designing and producing soldiers' uniforms in her small company. Your family had betrayed your own people but had secured a golden ticket to the Capitol, where your mother's designs were in high demand. Especially now that fewer people in the Capitol have to think about survival, they can finally worry about their expensive looks again.

You were no better than that stupid Sejanus, although you were definitely prettier. He sighed to himself. He didn't like how he had to keep reminding himself of that fact, but he couldn't forget it. She's a District girl. She always will be, nothing will ever change that. He reminded himself and couldn't stop himself from looking longingly at your figure. You will never be able to marry her, she is not worthy to bear the name Snow.

Your eyes sparkled as an Avox held out his tray for you to grab a fruit tart. You thanked him. "Look, they have some with blueberries. They're the best, trust me." You said and handed him the second one you had quickly grabbed. You saw him look at it a little robotically. "Don't worry, if you don't like it, I can eat it. Just try it."

She's not worthy, but she'd look so pretty with it. Coriolanus thought to himself as he said your name along with his last name in his head. "No way, those are my favorites too." He said and took a bite.

He liked the peach ones more.

[msafterhours]

Two Hands

Male Reader x woo!ah! & EL7Z UP Nana (Nayeon)

~25k words

“We should do this more often,” Nayeon murmurs into your chest.

“I mean, sure, I’d be happy to come support your group any time I’m not—”

“No, not that!” she exclaims, giggling slightly as she pulls away just enough to look up at you.  “I mean this.”

And she pulls you in even tighter, leaving you short of breath in more ways than one.

Nights like this make you wish the world was a bit kinder to you.  You’re bundled under multitudes of layers of thick clothes, thin mask and scarf completing your near head to toe coverage, yet you still can’t seem to keep your teeth from chattering incessantly.  Your efforts manage to preserve some of your warmth, but another shiver reminds you of the urgent need to get inside and get some food inside of you.  It’s really, really cold outside.

Thus, you swear the gleaming gates of heaven themselves stand before you when you catch a glimpse of the bright lights of your favorite little ramen shop.  Fighting against the harsh winter air, you trudge through the icy slush, cursing the severity of the snowstorm and the stupidity of your decision to splurge on a new pair of casual shoes instead of investing in more functional footwear.  It’s really, really cold outside.

A sigh of relief escapes your lips as you open the door and feel the warm embrace of the heated air, but your solace is swiftly supplanted by dread as you look around and notice that the shop’s well over full capacity, with little if any seating room available.

"Whatever, let's just get in line and hope for the best," you think to yourself as you take your place in line behind a pair of old ladies.

“I swear, it was a rabbit that ran past us!” one exclaims.

“Absolutely not, I know a squirrel when I see one!” the other insists, stomping her foot in frustration.

tick...

tock...

After a few surprisingly entertaining minutes, you finally make it to the front of the line and the familiar face behind the counter.

"The same as the last hundred or so times?" the old lady asks with a wry smile.

"Hey hey hey, ninety-two times, thank you very much!" you answer with mock indignation.  "But yes, I’m well aware how much of my budget goes to your shop, Aunt Kim."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," she fires back, tapping away at the screen as she yells your order to the kitchen.  "Would you?"

"Absolutely not," you answer without hesitation as you leave a generous tip.  "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna attempt the impossible and try to find somewhere to sit in your stupidly crowded shop."

"Good luck!" she calls out as you turn and walk away.  "You're going to need it!"

You sweep the room once, twice.  Neither survey produces anything but depressing results.  A third time, just in case.  Nothing’s changed.  A heavy, dramatic sigh escapes you as you ready yourself to accept your seemingly inevitable fate.  But before you can concede, a bright glint in the corner of your vision offers hope, causing you to turn and find what you've been desperately looking for.

A girl, seemingly around your age, with glowing golden hair that shines brilliantly, reflecting the warm yellow lights scattered around the shop, sits alone.  Your heart leaps for joy as you see, most importantly, an unutilized chair across from her.  You cling to that shred of hope, quickly making your way over before coming to a stop in front of her table.

A few moments more than you can endure pass as she continues to tap away her phone, either not noticing your presence or choosing to ignore it.  Eventually, you clear your throat and wave your hand in front of her, causing her to jump slightly and finally look up at you.  Your eyes meet, and you feel the words escape your mind in the moment you hold her gaze.  It takes a second, then another, but you finally remember your goal and cease your staring.

"Um, sorry to bother you, but … there are no other seats available, and I really, really, don't want to have to go outside again yet," you hurriedly explain, praying to whoever’s listening that this random, empyrean being you just met might miraculously take pity upon you.  "Would it be alright if I sat here with you?"

She regards you for many moments, each feeling like an eternity as you stand there awkwardly.  She stares, deep into your eyes then deeper still, hunting an ulterior motive.  Her eyes flash and dart, scanning the singular you as if you’re an entire crowd.  You know not what she searches for, but whatever test of virtue you’re subjected to, she seems satisfied with the result as she nods and gestures to the seat across from her.

You finally release the breath you hadn't realized you were holding, thanking her profusely as you join her at the table.

Your display finally earns a crack in the ice, shifting her skeptical expression to one of sick amusement as she comments, "If you’re this scared of the cold, why are you out so late?  Surely you didn’t forget to go shopping before the snowstorm … right?  Surely."

You feel your ears burning with a warmth from deep, deep within as your embarrassment flares up.  Your initial response tells truths, but her smug expression leads your words elsewhere.  "Would you believe I just really wanted ramen from my favorite shop and was willing to suffer the consequences to do so?"

Her sinister smile widens as she leans in and counters, "I just might … if you didn't sound like a guilty schoolboy who got caught trying to copy someone's test answers."

She holds your gaze once again, deep brown eyes delving into the depths of your soul, trapping you within a pocket of agonizing silence amongst the shop’s raucous atmosphere.

"Well?" she whispers breathlessly.  "Are you gonna use your words?  Or are you just gonna let those firetruck red ears do the talking?"

You exhale heavily, feeling your faux hubris exit your body as you confess, "Alright, fine.  You got me.  No more lies.  I might've sorta ruined up my planning for the week and ran out of food last night, alright?  Now, please, I beg you, stop looking at me like that."

Your response catches her off guard, but you’re quick to join her in shock as she bursts into a quiet fit of laughter.  Her mirth immediately entrances you; each note a part of the chorus that dances on your eardrums and seals itself deep into your heart.

You wrack your brain for a proper retort, hoping to turn the tides of this war of words, but your rebuttal is prevented by the arrival of Aunt Kim with your meal.  You thank her profusely as she sets it down, earning a smile before she turns to address your companion.

"Would you like me to take your bowl, Nayeon?" she asks, smiling at your companion in a way you’d believed was reserved for only you.

"Yes please, thank you, ma'am," Nayeon responds, picking up the bowl and handing it to her.

"Bah, you and your stubbornness," Aunt Kim grumbles.  "With how often you come here, the formality just feels stuffy.  Just call me Aunt Kim like this other addict does."

“I could probably do that.  You could also agree to call me Nana like all my other friends do,” Nayeon answers back, a genuine smile gracing her features for the first time you’ve seen.

Aunt Kim rolls her eyes dramatically as she pats your head affectionately in the way she knows you hate, then walks away with that same warm smile that you’d thought was saved exclusively for you, but now know is also shared with the girl sitting across from you.

"Oh, you’re a regular too?" you ask as you begin to enjoy your meal.  "I'm surprised I haven't seen you before."

"I'm usually here later," Nayeon responds as she idly taps away on her phone again.  "Not huge on coming here when it's so busy."

"I totally get that.  I'm usually here earlier, before the big rush, but this week has been crazy.  Add the storm on top of that, and I guess that leaves me here, forced to settle for getting swept up in the dinner surge."

"Oh, so you're settling for my company, huh?  I see how it is," Nayeon replies, feigning indignation as she crosses her arms and huffs in disbelief.  "I guess next time a popsicle wants to share a table, I'll make sure to send him back to the freezer."

"Hey hey hey, easy now," you reply, raising your hands in surrender.  "I'm not a huge fan of this chaos either, but I am eternally grateful for your company and your great sacrifice of existing in my vicinity."

"You're very welcome," Nayeon offhandedly remarks.  "Your expression mid-head pat was almost hilarious enough to justify my continued tolerance of your presence."

And just like that, you feel the conversation derail, coming to a screeching halt as hints of embarrassment creep up your neck and render your face even more flush.  With a grumble and a rather undignified pout, you let your eyes fall to the far warmer bowl of ramen that awaits you and begin enjoying your meal, causing Nayeon to hum in amused satisfaction at your surrender as she returns to her phone and resumes tapping away at what sounds like a game.

While you'd begrudgingly admit that you’ve enjoyed the conversation thus far, you’re pleasantly surprised at how easy it is to simply enjoy the serene feeling of sharing Nayeon's company.  In fact, the silence grants you a brief chance to study the countenance of your dining companion, and you’re more than happy to seize the opportunity.

It seems that the only thing sharper than her words is her jawline, which is itself a sharp contrast from her other, softer features.  As much as you wish you could stare back into her eyes once more, her downward gaze and focus on her phone makes doing so impossible, "forcing" you instead to focus on her lips, which she occasionally bites in frustration, causing your heart to swell in a way that feels unsafe yet anything but unnatural.

"Enjoying the view?"

Well shit.

Your eyes barely have to drift upwards to meet her gaze, where her eyes await you once more with a scrutinizing yet intrigued twinkle.  While only moments ago you were wishing you could stare into her eyes once more, the combination of the intensity of her stare and your embarrassment forces you to look down in shame as you meekly mutter a quiet apology.

"Nah, you're not getting off that easily," Nayeon says, setting aside her phone and leaning in.  "What'd you think?  And please do be honest.  You wouldn’t want to break your promise, would you?"

After only a moment's hesitation, you stare back into her eyes and open the floodgates.

"Well, it's only been a couple minutes, but I've decided that I love the way your hair glows like golden honey in this light, I'm pretty sure your jawline is sharp enough to cut through diamond, and I'm definitely sure that if you keep biting your lip the way you do whenever you're focused or frustrated or whatever that I'm going to be too dizzy to walk home."

“...”

“...”

tick...

“Oh.”

tock...

The raucous atmosphere of the shop seems to once again fade away as you intently hold the gaze of the girl you recently met but feel like you’ve known forever.  You can’t shake this odd sense of familiarity, like you had seen her before somewhere, but can’t quite put your finger on where.

Regardless, by this point, the silence between you has stretched to an uncomfortable length of time.  After bearing it a moment longer as you attempt to gather your resolve, you ask, "So, uh, what do you think?  I mean, I'd also prefer it if you were honest, but I don't have a promise to hold you to, so I guess I'll just have to settle for asking nicely and hoping for the best?"

Your follow-up seems to finally shock Nayeon out of her reverie, leading her to finally pick her jaw up off the floor and respond, "I mean, okay, good to know.  A little much, not gonna lie, but keep talking like that and I might have to let you keep doing what you're doing.  Can’t say I hate the attention."

She pauses for a moment, allowing her eyes to run across your upper body before meeting your gaze once more and adding, "And hey, you're not too rough on the eyes either."

tick...

Only a single serene second slips by as you hold each other's gaze before you see inspiration flash across her visage.  The glimmer in her eyes is quickly joined by a familiar smirk as she glances down to your lips before returning to look you in the eyes.

Then she steals your heart.

Again.

With that unreasonably sultry lip bite.

Again.

"And I thought the cold was going to be the reason I died tonight," you whisper, quietly enough that only she could hear.

Just in case she hadn't yet properly staked her claim on your heart, Nayeon responds with potentially the only thing more charming than her lip bites; her laughter, which once again resonates across the table directly through your eardrums, across your inner bridge, and into your heart.

You open your mouth, hoping to continue the conversation further, but find yourself abruptly cut off by a sudden series of discordant cacophonies as her phone vibrates harshly against the wooden table.  You watch on in poorly hidden dismay as she checks it and her mirthful expression transforms into a grimace at the messages' contents.

"Ugh, I need to get back to my place," she explains as she begins to gather her things.

"Oh, okay," you sigh.  "Thanks again for letting me sit with you and for the … mostly pleasant conversation."

Her frown fades, revealing hints of the smile hidden within.  "Sure, no problem.  I'm sure Ms. Kim would have wanted me dead if she heard I mistreated her other major source of income."

You can’t help but chuckle at her words, though the laughter feels cheerless in the face of more pressing concerns.  "Am I going to see you again?"

Her eyes stare into your own once more, piercing through to your core.  "Who knows?  We've been coming to this shop as frequently as we have for as long as we have for who knows how long and haven't run into each other until now.  Who's to say it won't take another couple of years until our paths cross again?"

And with that sobering perspective, the girl you’ve come to know as Nayeon stands, giving you only the slightest nod in farewell before stepping away from the table.  You watch her as she takes her first few steps, feeling your heart sink lower and lower as the distance between you grows larger and larger.

tock...

But suddenly, you almost swear you can see a lightbulb go off above her head, causing her to turn and walk back to the table.

"You know, I never did catch your name," Nayeon remarks casually.

Despite the exhilaration of your heart soaring at her return, you try to maintain a neutral expression as you reply, "Perfect, now we both have a reason to meet again."

While it might just be your imagination, you dare to hope that it’s your words that transform her sly smirk into a genuine smile that reaches her eyes.

"Oh yeah?  What's your reason?"

"Who said I only have one?"

With her curiosity sated and ego sufficiently inflated, Nayeon gives you a small smile as a farewell, then turns and walks out of the ramen shop.  And as the clock ticks ever onward and you sit alone at the table, pondering what impact this night might have on the rest of your life, you can only hope that she hasn’t walked away for the final time.

tick...

tock...

tick...

tock...

It really was bearable the first couple of days.

But the days turned to weeks and the weeks turned to months and the months began to feel like years.  And as time mercilessly continues to pass by, you unsurprisingly find yourself increasingly affected by the thought of her.

You realized something was seriously wrong when entire weeks began to blur together and each visit to the ramen shop left you feeling colder and lonelier than your previous visit.  It isn’t long before the intrusive thoughts remodel your mind and claim it as their own, leaving you wondering if you had lost your love for your favorite restaurant and your best chance at love in a single night.  Despite the depressing potential of those dramatic notions, you attempt to cast them aside, instead focusing your efforts on maintaining your previous routine and, more importantly, meeting Nayeon again.

Since you assume Aunt Kim will rat you out to Nayeon if you’re too desperate in your attempts, you choose a more subtle approach.  Instead of showing up every night, you alter your schedule to better fit hers.  The awkward “middle” shifts at your work are rarely prioritized, so you’re easily able to make the change and justify your abnormally late arrivals to the shop.

However, your efforts fall short, leaving you wanting, craving even a glimpse of the radiant smile that graces your dreams far more often than you’d readily admit.  And even though you desperately want to ask Aunt Kim if she’s even seen Nayeon, you’re well aware that outside assistance would break the unspoken rules of the game.  So, even as your heart yearns for her, you choose to continue playing.  Even in the face of defeat, you persevere.

All the while, a nagging feeling remains in the back of your mind.  Though you can’t figure out why, you’re sure you know her from somewhere.  The passage of time allows that nagging to fester, growing exponentially until it becomes all you can think about.

It’s not long before the pressure becomes unbearable, forcing you to cave.  Nayeon’s a fairly popular name, but luckily, you’re able to fall back on her nickname of “Nana”.  Thus, on a day that’s become your new norm, you dedicate part of your shift to searching through Naver pages, eventually finding what you’ve been looking for.  Kind of.

You find that she’s the main dancer and leader of a girl group named woo!ah!, one of the seemingly endless number of new K-Pop groups that’ve slipped under your radar.  As you scroll through the pages and watch video after video, you unsurprisingly enjoy their music, yet feel a sense of unease grow with each passing video.  You’d expected feelings of excitement and joy to burst forth with each of Nayeon’s appearances, but instead you’re met by dread, trepidation, and a plethora of other unpleasant emotions that you can’t identify amidst the maelstrom rampaging in your heart.

You finish their MV playlist depressingly quickly, finding far more questions than answers at the end of this rainbow.  Unfortunately, before you can reach a satisfying conclusion, the clock strikes twelve and begins to sing, signaling the end of your shift.  After packing up your things, you depart, and, following a short bus ride, you arrive at the intersection where you turn right to visit the noodle shop once again.

And an hour later, after you’ve stood in line, placed your order, found somewhere to sit, enjoyed your meal, and looked over every square millimeter of the room, you find yourself alone.

Once.

Again.

tick...

tock...

Seemingly a moment later, you’re surprised to find yourself at home.  You rationalize that your body must have moved on its own and your brain must not have cared to encode the memory of walking this familiar path, but even this explanation leaves you with serious concerns.  As you reach into your pocket and feel the warmth from your fingers being sapped by the key’s cold metal, you simply feel … tired.

What’s the point of changing your routine if your days are bound to end the same as always?

What’s the point of searching for warmth if you continue to be left alone in the cold?

What’s the point of listening to your heart if all it leads you to is the deafening silence of your empty apartment?

You can feel it in the air as you turn the key, open the door, and enter the suffocating silence of your apartment.  The air’s cold.  Heavy.  The room’s dark.  Empty.  And you’re sure.  Ready.  As much as your heart yearns to chase Nayeon, your mind is telling you that it’s time.  Time to return to the routine you’ve relied on for so, so long.  You begin by sending a quick email to your supervisor, requesting a change back to your previous schedule.  Then, after a few more hours that won’t be worth remembering, you willingly wade into the darkness.

You mourn the loss of what could have been.  You allow the clouds to roll in, allow the falling rain to drown out the sounds of your heart beating against its cage and its cries for freedom.  You pray that the storm will wash away the memories of that night.  You hope, as desperately as ever, that you’ll find her.  But if your heart can’t have what it wants, you’ll ask your mind to forget her.

tick…..

tock.

tick…..

tock.

Is it eight days later?  Nine days?  Ten?  Your memory might have failed you again, but routine provides you necessary stability once more, helping you through the motions of working the once familiar morning shift before guiding you through the short bus ride to your stop and the subsequent walk to an always familiar intersection and a newly unwelcome decision.

If you simply continue forwards, you’ll arrive at your apartment, where you know that leftovers and loneliness amidst the silence of solitude awaits.  However, if routine truly is still in the driver’s seat, you’ll turn to your right, towards Aunt Kim’s, where you know that ramen and loneliness amidst the voices of others awaits.

Thus, despite the clear blue sky and the bright sun that signaled the early signs of winter’s departure, decision paralysis sets in.  The light flashes yellow, yet you need to decide, now.  Then, it flashes red, yet you know you need to go.  Finally, the indicator flashes green, yet you remain motionless as the crowd begins to surge past you.

It’s there, in that moment, where you stop fighting anxiety’s powerful pull, allowing it to drag you under, away from your routine.  It’s there, in that moment, where you give up, instead electing to return home.  Yet, it’s there, in that moment, where you feel a gentle tug on your arm and see a flash of warm golden light in your periphery.

"Come on, you gotta get there before it gets busy," Nayeon whispers, mock urgency masking her features and veiling her words.  "Otherwise, you might have to ask some weirdo if you can share a table with them."

You’re all too eager to allow yourself to be dragged along, heart nearly bursting out of your chest as you loudly exclaim, “Nayeon!  I—”

Your words are a jumbled mess, bouncing around the inside of your skull, desperately trying to escape all at once, but you hold them all back as the other pedestrians turn, glaring at you as they judge your sudden outburst.  Once you finish offering meek smiles and apologetic waves, you whisper back, “You’re right, that sounds terrible!  Let’s go!”

As she continues to drag you along, you take the opportunity to study the beaming visage of your guide once more.  The passage of time allows you to view the literal girl of your dreams in a new light, and you find Nayeon’s just as radiant in today’s pleasant sunshine as she was so many weeks ago, hidden away from the harsh snowfalls of the early Korean winter.

"What should I say?" you wonder to yourself as you allow her to lead you down the busy sidewalk.  "Would it be too forward to say I missed her after only meeting her once before?"

A familiar cadence, the ringing of a very particular bell, cuts your internal musings short, shunting you back into reality as Nayeon opens the door to Aunt Kim's ramen shop.  Nayeon finally detaches from your arm, leaving you feeling cold and empty.  Not unlike your freezer that fateful night, so many months ago.

After shaking off the last remnants of your reverie, you step forward and join her in line.  Despite being a fair bit taller than her, you can’t seem to make out what exactly she’s doing on her phone as you both wait to place your order.

It only takes a few moments of snooping before a wave of guilt washes over you as you realize your invasion of her privacy, causing you to shift your gaze elsewhere, to other areas of the shop.  Areas such as the table where you had sat the previous time, which currently sits unoccupied.

"Another missed opportunity," you think to yourself as you grieve the lost potential and come to another realization.  "Not to mention the fact that she held the door for me because I was so lost in thought!  Ugh, you're blowing it!  Stop overthinking everything."

After a few short minutes idly spent looking anywhere except towards Nayeon, all of the customers in line in front of you finish placing their orders and go to find a seat.  You aren’t surprised as Nayeon needs mere moments to recite her clearly well-practiced offer, but you are caught off guard when Aunt Kim leans close to Nayeon, whispering something you can’t make out amidst the low murmur of the crowd inhabiting your second home.

The rational part of your brain informs you that, at most, a few seconds pass.  Your emotions tell a far different story, flooding your overwrought mind with a deluge of disquieting dangers and forcing you to consider each of the painful possibilities and worst-case scenarios that comprise the tsunami attempting to drag you into the depths of self-doubt.  Eventually, the two part, and as Nayeon turns to face you, her mischievous expression and gleaming smile ignites a flame in you, burning away any frost that’s formed since you left her embrace.

Her eyes flick over towards Aunt Kim, seemingly challenging you to approach the elderly woman who stands behind the counter with crossed arms and a dangerously amused expression.  This time, however, Nayeon doesn’t even give your words enough time to get caught in your throat, instead simply walking past you and allowing the silky strands of her hair to brush your shoulder and convey all the intent she needs to.

As you gather what little cognitive function remains, you’re especially grateful for the familiarity of this place as Aunt Kim enters your order with well-practiced quickness.  You’re uncharacteristically afraid of meeting her eyes as you sign your name and begin to enter the same generous tip you’ve always given, but her scoff of indignation as you meekly hold out your hand for your order number forces you to do so.

"So." she says bluntly, withholding the plastic indicator as she awaits your response.

"Yes ma’am?” you ask, voice laced with saccharine innocence.

“Oh gods, don’t tell me that that girl’s stubbornness has infected you too,” Aunt Kim responds exasperatedly.  “You finally managed to meet up with her again, eh?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you respond as you delete your previous number, instead entering an extra-large tip before braving Aunt Kim’s gaze once more, silently conveying your plea for mercy as you literally attempt to buy her silence.

Aunt Kim’s eyes flash down briefly, widening for a moment before a deep, jovial laugh echoes out from her, reverberating throughout the room as she holds your gaze once more.

“All right, act sly all you like.  I'm just tired of seeing someone come in alone fifty times in a row just to spend their time here hoping and searching for a certain someone.”

The banter is unique, odd, and comfortably routine as you ease into its familiar warmth.  Your brow arches dramatically as you declare, “Why Aunt Kim, I can’t stand these accusations!  It’s only been forty-six times since then!”

You watch as Aunt Kim’s smile fades, shifting from a display of mirth to a thin obfuscation of sadness as she responds, “You’re not the only one who’s been sitting alone at a table for two.  Now go!”

And as she pushes your number into your hands and sends your mind into a tailspin, you’re left with no other option but to turn and allow the next customer to set up.  Your body’s autopilot takes over, turning you further until you face the table where this all started, only to find it occupied.

By none other than Nayeon herself.

You lock eyes for the briefest of moments before she avoids your gaze, poorly pretending to be enthralled by the black screen of her phone.  As the slightest hints of confidence begin to emerge from within, you walk up to the table, acting as casually as you can, pulling out a chair and taking a seat across from her.

After offering up a prayer to whoever’s listening, desperately hoping that you wouldn’t blow this chance, you look straight at her and ask, “So, how have you been?”

“Oh, so we’re just getting right into it, huh?” Nayeon asks, already crafting the thin veneer of the haughtiness she’d used to shield herself before.  “Not even going to thank me for saving you a seat?  I know you’ve had issues finding them before.”

You raise your hands up in mock surrender as you admit, “Alright, fair enough.  I am very grateful for your act of charity once again, and I’ll be sure to make it up to you.”

“I’m glad to see you’ve come to your senses,” she declares, obvious satisfaction in her smirk as she nods in approval.  “To answer your question, I’ve been fortunate enough to be busy, so that’s always good.  Aside from work, I guess it’s mostly just been working out, spending time with those I’m closest to, and coming here.  What about you?”

“I’ve …” your voice trails off for a moment, granting you silence as you meticulously craft your next line.  “I’ve had better months, but I honestly can’t complain too much.  Work’s been consistent, so like you said, that’s always good.  Plus, I always have this place to come back to, so that’s a big plus.”

“So, you come here often?” Nayeon asks, waggling her eyebrows in the most tropey, dramatic way possible.  It’s clearly meant to be humorous, and you’re all too eager to reward her efforts with a smile.  You just also hope it buys you time to reclaim the breath she steals so easily.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that," you say, chuckling slightly as you struggle against all the unwelcome thoughts and emotions that continuously threaten to boil over.  "Especially the past couple of months, I'm fairly sure I've made a sizeable contribution to the 'Kim Family College Fund'.  What about you, have you also been a generous donor?"

And there it is.  For the first time since that night a lifetime ago, your words strike a chord, and your just reward is the melodious laughter that bursts free from the alluring lips of Nayeon before gently drifting across the table and imprinting itself once again upon your soul.  And all you can wonder is why you’d ever choose to stop chasing her.

After the briefest of stanzas, her mirthful song quiets and her words shift to a whisper.  "Listen, if my friends ever find out just how often I've been coming here and how much I've spent, it’ll be the last day I see the sun!  So shhh!"

The quiet laugh that resonates out straight from your heart may not be planned or voluntary, but anyone paying a modicum of attention can easily tell it’s genuine.  You feel free, weightless even, to an extent you haven’t felt since a certain night so many weeks ago.  And as you savor this moment of warmth, of dethawing even, you’re glad to see that same joy mirrored in the eyes and smile of Nayeon too.

"Alright, fair enough.  Not a word to your friends, and you won't rat me out to mine?  Deal?"

"Deal!" she responds eagerly, extending her hand out to shake yours.

Without hesitation, you reach out and seal the pact, cherishing the influx of warmth generated by even the swiftest second of your fingertips grazing the soft skin of her palm.

But then, just like that, it’s gone.  The briefest moment of contact ends all too soon, and you find yourself in silence once more.

Fortunately, this time it doesn’t last, as Nayeon speaks up once more.

"So … any particular reason you've been around more often recently?" she asks as she looks around in a familiar pattern, seemingly fascinated by the decorations of the place she must have visited hundreds of times.

"I might have a reason," you respond suavely as you lean back in your chair.  "Maybe even a couple."

"Oh yeah?" she asks, ending her search as she reaches her destination: your eyes.  "Pardon my vanity, but is there any chance … I’m one of those reasons?"

In this moment, this secular moment of confession, this seductress needs no lip bites nor any promises of sweet nothings to ensnare your heart even further.  All you need is to look into her eyes, where you see the same earnest anticipation mirrored within your own soul.

So, in this moment, you give yourself no time to second guess yourself, acting on pure instinct as you take out your heart, affix it to your sleeve in full view of everyone within the restaurant, and admit, "Yeah, I mean, you’re the only reason that mattered.  I guess … I was scared of the thought of never seeing you again.  I really missed you."

tick...

Another moment passes.  But this stretch of silence is far shorter than the last and her response is far quicker than last time you’d shared a confession.  This time, it’s her words that shock you.

"Thanks, I … uh, really missed you too," she whispers softly, perhaps trying to preserve the serenity of this moment between the two of you.

tock...

Milliseconds begin to feel like minutes as you desperately rack your brain, searching for an adequate continuation to the conversation.  Fortunately, just as desperation tips over into despair, none other than Aunt Kim comes to your rescue, carrying a pair of bowls in her hands and a complicated collection of emotions across her countenance.

First, she offers Nayeon her warm bowl with an even warmer smile, which Nayeon is happy to return in kind.  Then, just as you recover from being blinded by Nayeon’s radiance, Aunt Kim turns to you, deliberately holding back your bowl as she offers nothing but a quirked eyebrow and an expectant expression.

You raise your hands in surrender once more, internally cursing the developing trend as you ask, “What, Miss Aunt Kim, could you possibly be expecting from me?  Ma’am.”

You aren’t sure if it’s your sheepish expression or Aunt Kim’s sigh of exasperation that sparks it, but whatever semblance of a train of thought you’d begun crafting is sent careening off the rails by the return of that same singsong laughter that’s lifted your spirits up from the depths they’d plummeted to.

While Nayeon continues her chorus of joy, you watch as Aunt Kim’s frosty exterior thaws, causing her to gently place the bowl in your hands before pulling away just the slightest bit.

“I’m just glad things finally lined up,” Aunt Kim says with a knowing smile and another ruffling of your hair that earns another round of laughter from Nayeon.

Finally, that last embarrassment inflicted, Aunt Kim elects to leave you in peace.

After months of waiting, the culmination of all your fantasies is … a conversation.  About nothing.  About everything.  About your job as an editor at a K-Pop news / blog site and how the recent schedule change left you saddled with a writer who’d recently gotten in trouble for “not including all the members when describing a group’s latest comeback” or something.  About her job as an idol and the years of struggle and the stress of debuting and her relationships with her members and fan interactions and on and on and on.

It’s the most mundane human experience you’ve ever had, but it’s warm.  It lasts from your usual arrival time until Nayeon’s usual time of departure, yet time seems to pass by in an instant.  It’s nothing you would have expected yet everything you could possibly ask for, like a waking dream.  It’s almost unfathomable how much you enjoy yourself.

It also has to end.

“Hey,” Nayeon says suddenly, allowing her voice to soften.  “The shop’s closing soon.”

“Oh, right,” you say, feeling your smile fade for the first time in hours.

“We should, uh …”

“Yeah, let’s—”

“Yeah.”

The dusty old chairs creak against the stained floorboards of the shop as you both slowly slide them back, hoping that your sluggish movements will elongate this experience.  Each of you bids farewell to Aunt Kim in your own special way, then turn to depart.  And as you open the door for her and the brisk evening wind leaves you scrambling for the right words, it’s Nayeon who finds her courage first.

“We’ll be performing next Saturday,” she begins, speaking just loud enough for her words to reach your ears before the cruel winds can whisk them away.  “I understand if you’re busy, but—”

“I’ll be there.”

And just as the door closes and you put forth your promise, the jingle of the bells and Nayeon’s relieved laughter join in harmony, creating a melody that wraps itself around you and promises to protect you from the cold.

“I haven’t even told you where it is yet!” she exclaims, meeting your eyes once more.

“Then I should probably give you my number, no?” you counter, holding her gaze as she looks back with the softest eyes and warmest smile.

“That sounds like a great idea,” Nayeon says, eagerly pulling out her phone and handing it to you.

You quickly punch in the digits and hand it back to her, earning a frown in response.

“What is it?”

“You still haven’t told me your name.”

So, you tell her.  And she repeats it back to you.  And it’s no surprise that the sound of your name in her mouth is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard.  And you’re still reeling from that when she texts you, “Hi it’s me!🐇”.  And when you finally manage to tear your eyes from the screen, you’re met with the sight of her meekly looking down at the sidewalk below.

“Hey,” you say softly, giving her a moment to meet your eyes before opening your arms.  “You—”

Your words don’t even have a chance to be whisked away by the cruel winds before Nayeon darts over and crashes into your chest, driving the air from your lungs as she wraps her arms around you.  Instinctually, you wrap your own arms around her, holding her close and refusing to let go.

“Stay warm, okay?” you whisper, only for her ears.

“I think I’ll be just fine,” she whispers back, just as softly.

And it’s hard when you two untangle yourselves.  And it’s harder to say goodbye.  And it’s nearly impossible to turn away.  But it’s easy to turn back and look at her.  And you see Nayeon walking, no, almost skipping away down the sidewalk.  And you know that the months-long wait was worth it.  And the next ten days will feel like a decade.

But that’ll be worth the wait too.

tick…

tock…

tick…

tock…

This time, you know exactly how long it’s been.  You’ve checked the clock every hour of the past ten days, desperately awaiting the chance to see her again.  Absolutely dreading the thought of seeing her again.

Your anxiety certainly isn’t helped by the sea of lightsticks and legions of chanting fans wielding them.  Amidst this squall of rabid passion, you can’t help but feel underprepared.  You can’t help but feel nervous.  You can’t help but feel insignificant.

Fortunately, by the time you’re able to make your way up closer to the front, the performances have started and begun to wash away some of that negativity.  You lose yourself in the stages, showing support to these young adults, these kids, who’re giving everything they have to try and achieve their dreams.  It really is an enjoyable way to spend an afternoon.

Yet your throat still dries up when you hear them announce who’s performing next.  All of a sudden, the room floods, dragging you under; the blood rushes in, waves deafening you.

tick…

They come out on stage.

tock…

Your eyes can’t look anywhere else.

tick… tock…

“Nana” says something that you can’t hear.

tick…tock…

They get in position. tick..tock..tick.. They begin. ticktockticktockticktocktick

And then, just like that, it’s over.  The performance ends and the group bids the crowd farewell, leaving you with far fewer thoughts than you anticipated but far more emotions than you’re prepared for.  At the forefront of your mind, a singular idea, the catalyst of the storm, reverberates incessantly with a single realization.

Nayeon’s eyes didn't meet yours a single time throughout the whole performance, yet she spent the entire time smiling brighter than you’ve ever seen.

You somehow manage to stumble through the crowd, moving towards an exit as they roar in excitement at the announcement of the next performers, a group you’ve followed since debut and one you like quite a lot.  A group that doesn’t matter.

It’s only once you get outside, once you’re able to take a moment amidst the early evening air, that your breathing begins to slow.  It’s there that the blood pumping in your ears begins to settle.  It’s there that the vibration on your leg nearly makes you jump out of your skin.  But once you nail the three-point landing, you pull out your phone and read the new message:

Nayeon 🐇 (6:02pm):  Hey, were you able to make it?  I just peeked my head out but couldn’t find you anywhere.

You (6:03pm):  I did!  Sorry, I just stepped outside after watching your performance, needed some air

You (6:03pm):  You guys were great!

Nayeon🐇 (6:03pm):  Awww, thanks so much!!

Nayeon🐇 (6:03pm):  You should come around the back, I wanna introduce you to everyone!

Nayeon🐇 (6:04pm):  Meet me at door E35, I’ll let you in

You (6:06pm):  Sure, I’m on my way

You hit send, finally responding after needing a minute to calm the upswell of sanguine tides that continue to thrash within.  Your steps are heavy, echoing loudly throughout the packed parking lot and even louder in your mind as you begin discerning which feelings surround this storm’s catalyst.  

The unfamiliar feeling doesn’t remind you of the anxiety you’ve faced before, nor does it remind you of the self-doubt you’ve suffered in your past.  No, when you round the corner to see Nayeon’s head poking out the door, looking for you, and you hear the crowd’s thunderous applause, you know exactly which ugly emotion torments you.  And despite having no right to feel the way you do, you know that jealousy gnaws at your core.

So, when Nayeon turns and locks eyes with you, you hope your smile shows delight, not despair.  And while you don’t quite match the radiance of her reaction, you’re inviting enough for her to throw open the door and begin dashing towards you.  Fortunately, your limbs seem to have higher priorities than jealousy, as you too begin closing the distance and opening your arms, meeting her halfway and tightly wrapping your arms around her as she does the same to you.

Your ability to string together sentences escapes you as you hold her close, feeling her heartbeat hammer against your chest at as rapid a pace as your own.

“We should do this more often,” Nayeon murmurs into your chest.

“I mean, sure, I’d be happy to come support your group any time I’m not—”

“No, not that!” she exclaims, giggling slightly as she pulls away just enough to look up at you.  “I mean this.”

And she pulls you in even tighter, leaving you short of breath in more ways than one.

“But also, thank you for coming to see us perform.  You have no idea how much I appreciate it.”

“Of course,” you say, heart penning your words before your brain can intervene.  “Anything for you.”

“Anything?” Nayeon asks incredulously, finally breaking the hug as the mischievous glint in her eye returns.  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“I stand by my word,” you respond, acting far more confidently than you truly feel.  “Besides, how dangerous could you possibly be?”

“Are you looking to find out?” she asks, smiling deviously as you see the turning gears in her head shift into overdrive.

“Maybe one day,” you say with a shrug.  “Must admit, it’s not high on my list of priorities though.”

“Oh yeah?  What’s number one?”

“Why spoil the surprise?  Gotta keep you coming back somehow.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise as Nayeon scoffs in response.  “Yeah, like that’s a concern.”

“I, uh, thanks?” you sputter, unable to do anything further as the mechanisms of your mind malfunction.

“Oh!” she exclaims, face alight with merriment and mischief alike.  “You are in danger.”

All you can do is shrug.  Why try to hide what you both know to be true?  Why not join her in laughter instead?

“Hey,” you say a few seconds later as you catch a brief glimpse of your breath in the air.  “We should get you inside, it's too cold for you to be out here in a sleeveless top and those ‘shorts’.”

“What do you mean?” Nayeon asks incredulously.  “I think my stylist absolutely nailed it today.”

“Yeah, like anything you wear could look bad,” you scoff.  “I'm just worried about you turning into a popsicle.”

“Oh?  I guess I'll just have to find someone to keep me warm,” she drawls as she walks back to the door.  “You wouldn't mind, would you?”

“Of course not.”

“Of course not,” she repeats, flashing the smallest of smirks your way before turning back and stepping up to the door.  “Anything for me, right?”

“I mean …” you begin to say.  Unfortunately, your train of thought is brought to a screeching halt by the rather rude sound of the unmoving door handle within Nayeon’s grasp.

“Wonderful,” Nayeon says, exasperation coating her words as she runs her fingers through her hair.  “And on the one day I forgot to charge my phone too.”

“You can borrow mine,” you offer, reaching into your pocket and holding it out to her.  “Can you call someone inside who can open it?”

“Yes, I can!” she says, eagerly accepting your offer and taking your phone.  “Give me a second, I'll see if Wooyeon's willing to help.”

A few moments later, after she's punched in the numbers and the phone's begun to ring, she looks up with that same cheeky smile she wears so frequently around you.

“Guess you're stuck with me a bit longer,” she dramatically declares.

“Woe is me,” you respond in kind, pressing the back of your hand to your forehead like you're about to faint.

Nayeon opens her mouth to fire back, but her reply is superseded by a muffled, vaguely familiar voice emanating out from the speaker.

“Hey, it's me,” she remarks casually, as if calling someone from a random number is a totally normal thing to do.  “I need—”

She stops mid-sentence, seemingly allowing the person on the other end to voice their apparently substantial list of frustrations at Nayeon. 

“Yeah, I, uh, sorry about slipping away like that,” Nayeon replies sheepishly as her cheeks flare in an entirely new way.  “It's a very long story that I very much don't want to get into tonight, but can you please come open door E35?  I might have locked myself out.”

It's a tense few moments of silence before Nayeon gets a response.  What you assume to merely be a few words at most still manages to shock Nayeon, leaving her wide eyed as she responds, “That's a lot to ask for just—”

Her words are suddenly cut off by what you assume to be Wooyeon's response, causing Nayeon to roll her eyes in resignation before responding, “Okay!  Sure, fine.  Both rooms, before the performance on Wednesday.  Got it.”

“Alright, see you soon,” she continues.  “And Wooyeon?  Thank you.”

“Here, thanks for letting me borrow that,” Nayeon says, handing you back your phone.

“Of course,” you respond.  “What were you two arguing about?”

“Honestly it was more bargaining than arguing,” Nayeon groans, throwing her head back in frustration.  “A trade I horribly lost, mind you.   Apparently in her mind, a three-minute walk is worth me having to clean both bedrooms at the dorms.”

“That seems … harsh,” you say, earning a shrug in response.

The silence goes unbroken for a minute.  Then another.  But when it's finally broken, it's not by words, but the chattering of teeth.  Hers.

Fortunately, your movements are so instinctual that by the time your brain has even begun to consider overthinking things, you've already taken off your jacket and wrapped it around her.  Nayeon’s shivering swiftly slows, but you leave your arm wrapped around her.  Just in case.

tick…

tock…

It ends up being ten minutes, not three, that you share in silence.  Not that either of you notice or care.

As soon as you hear the handle begin to turn, you immediately pull away, earning the smallest of whines from Nayeon before she too hears the door opening and turns towards it.

“There you are!” both girls exclaim as you see one of the other members from the earlier performance poke her head out.

“What took you so long?” Nayeon asks.  “I thought it'd take four minutes max to find us.”

“Listen, we can discuss whether or not I got lost once you get inside,” Wooyeon huffs in response.  “Come on, it's freezing out here!”

“You're telling me,” you mutter, causing Nayeon to quietly chuckle as she looks up at you with wide, apology-filled eyes.

You both follow Wooyeon inside, where Nayeon introduces you to one another and informs Wooyeon that she had invited you.  After an exchange of slightly awkward bows, Wooyeon speaks up.

“Okay, so this story involves you and a guy, alone, in the middle of a parking lot on a dark and stormy evening?  I don't care how long it is, you're telling me everything.”

“I … fine.  We can talk on the drive back,” Nayeon begrudgingly accepts.

“Good.  Speaking of, we should head back.  Now, preferably.  They're probably waiting on us,” Wooyeon says, shooting you a sympathetic glance.

“Hey, it's alright,” you tell Nayeon as she turns to look at you.  “I'm just glad I got to see you.  The performance and everything else were just icing on the cake.”

“Everything else, huh?” Wooyeon asks, seemingly more invested suddenly.  “How late is this story going to keep me up?”

“Oh relax,” Nayeon scoffs, shaking her head at Wooyeon's instigation attempts.

“But seriously,” she says to you.  “Thanks for being understanding.”

“Also, thanks for this,” Nayeon continues, smirking at you as she points to your jacket.

“Of course,” you immediately respond.  “Anything for you.”

You watch as Nayeon’s cheeky expression morphs into confusion, like your response was outside the rules of the game you’re both playing.

“I, uh, thanks?” she sputters.  But that confusion doesn't last, and a warm smile is quick to replace it.

“Here then,” she murmurs, closing the distance between you two quicker than you're able to respond.  “This is for you.”

And there's a lot of small details that you'll forget in hindsight.  Like the way Nayeon stands up on her tiptoes, or how she tilts her head just the slightest bit, or even the glittery eyeshadow that gleams in the light.  But there's one detail you'll remember.  Because you'll never forget the feeling of her soft lips against your cheek.

You can't help but hate the moment she pulls away.  But when she locks eyes with you, you're brave enough to hope that you'll feel that sensation again.

“Bye,” she whispers.

“Bye.”

“...”

“...”

“Bye?” Wooyeon says, offering you a slightly awkward wave as you turn to face her.

You look back to Nayeon, and neither of you can help but laugh at Wooyeon's shell-shocked expression.  One theatrical sigh and an eye roll later, Wooyeon turns and begins to walk away.

“Bye Wooyeon!” you call out at the retreating form.  “Hopefully next time we meet, it'll be a little more normal!”

“Hard not to be!” she calls back, earning another duet of laughter from you and Nayeon.

“I should probably follow her,” Nayeon says.  “We're performing Wednesday night, so I guess I'll see you at the shop on Thursday?  Unless you—”

“I'll be there,” you say, fighting back the jealous feelings that surge up at the thought of her performing again.

“You're the best,” she says, throwing her arms around you for the briefest of moments before turning and hurriedly following Wooyeon.  “I'll text you the location!”

“Sounds good, see you there!” you call out in response.  You can't help but feel glued to the floor as you watch her walk away, remaining motionless until she rounds a corner and leaves you alone in the hallway.

An odd mix of emotions twirls around your mind as you depart the building.  Many of them, the vast majority even, are undeniably positive.  But voices, ones eerily similar to those found in the fanchants from earlier, echo in the back of your mind and entrench those unshakable feelings of jealousy.

But even as the bus takes you away and you pray to reach home before the rain begins to fall, you know that this inner storm isn't one you can outrun.

tick…

tock…

tick…

tock…

You hope that you’re as good at hiding your emotions as you think you are.  Because the way you feel when you’re with Nayeon, your friend, when you’re both excitedly talking a little louder than you should be and occasionally have to pause the conversation to apologize to the other customers nearby, it’s euphoric.  It’s exhilarating.  It’s everything you could have ever dreamed of and more.

And it could not be more different than the way you feel when you’re with “Nana”, the idol.  Because you should still feel that euphoria, that elation.  You have no reason not to, especially since Nayeon acts the same way, even going so far as to find time somewhere in her crazy schedule when you two can meet.  The joy you find in those moments should be enough.  But your jealousy proves gluttonous, leaving you with an awful feeling in the pit of your stomach that grows harder to ignore.  It’s inescapable.  It’s everything you can’t control threatening to take away everything you hold dear.

And you haven’t the slightest fucking clue what to do.

Unfortunately, the tempest doesn’t give you much time to find a solution before boiling over.  It’s only a couple of weeks and a handful of performances later when Nayeon pulls you into a small alcove hidden amongst the towers of sound equipment and piles of wires.  Almost immediately, she begins sharing a story about a fan interaction, further fanning the flames of the ugly side of your emotions.

It’s not long before you’re overwhelmed by the turbulent emotions within.  Nayeon’s in the middle of a sentence when you lean in, cupping her cheek in one hand as you press your lips against hers.  You kiss her gently at first, but after her initial shock, she begins to kiss you back.  Firmly.  Insistently.  You let the sounds of the nearby stage abate, allowing yourself to instead lose yourself in the only senses that matter right now.

Like how the smell of her conditioner reminds you of coconuts and cherry blossoms.  Or how she tastes sweeter than honey.  Or how her lips are somehow softer than clouds.

You pull away only once oxygen deprivation forces you to, leaving you both staring at each other as you desperately attempt to catch your breath.

“I’m so sorry,” you say as soon as you’re able to.  “I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Nayeon interjects.  “Shut up and kiss me again.”

This time, she catches you off-guard as she leans in, pulling your head down slightly as she kisses you with as much intensity as before, if not more.  You’re more than willing to match her zeal, eliciting murmurs of satisfaction and small gasps for air from her as you battle back and forth.

It’s intense.  It’s electrifying.  It’s everything you’ve ever wanted and—

“There you are—oh!”

You and Nayeon hastily separate and turn to face the unexpected spectator, finding none other than poor Wooyeon and her shell-shocked expression awaiting you once again.

“Wooyeon?!  I, you, we, uh …” Nana says, trailing off mid-sentence as she steps away from you and attempts the futile task of trying to return her hair to some semblance of normalcy.

“We have to figure out a better way for you to introduce me to your friends,” you tell Nana, earning a stare of disbelief from her and an unexpected bit of melodious laughter from Wooyeon.

“You seriously do!” Wooyeon exclaims, fanning her face in an attempt to disperse the crimson flooding her cheeks.  “Honestly, I hate that they keep sending me to find you two, why can't it be Sora getting traumatized for once?”

“Because they know you're way too good at finding things for your own good, especially us apparently,” Nayeon says, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration.

“Oh, don't worry!  I won't tell …” Wooyeon trails off for a moment, looking at Nayeon slyly.  “Too many people.”

“Hey!” Nayeon exclaims.  “Be careful what you wish for, I'm sure plenty of people would be interested in my stories about you.”

“That wasn't what I'd hoped to hear, but you can write me an apology later,” Wooyeon fires back, turning her head away from Nayeon to hide the red that refuses to leave her cheeks.  “I hate to do this again, but we really do need to get going.”

Nayeon's indignation seems to flare even further as she steps closer to Wooyeon, but you can't help but chuckle at the image of the shorter Nayeon attempting to intimidate the much taller Wooyeon.  Nayeon spares a moment to glare at you before turning back to Wooyeon and saying, “Listen, I'm sure we can—”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” you interject.  “I’m sure we’ll have time to talk later, right Nayeon?”

“Oh sure, I’m positive that she’ll have plenty of time for a lovely conversation later,” Wooyeon comments, earning a glare from Nayeon that’d likely be scathing if not for the obvious embarrassment coloring her countenance.

“Hey, not so loud!” you jest, smiling just as wide as Wooyeon.  “Seriously though, I really am sorry Wooyeon.   I’ll make it up to you sometime, hopefully next time I see you.  Surely next time we meet it’ll be more normal, right?  Surely?”

“Suuurrrelyyyy,” Wooyeon responds, stringing out the single word just long enough to fit every emotion other than sincerity into its delivery.  She takes the opportunity to step away from Nayeon, who seems temporarily frozen between states of frustration, embarrassment, and something else entirely.

“Hey, no worries,” you gently tell Nayeon, taking her hands in your own and turning her to face you.  “Your members need you.”

“Besides, you should probably go willingly before Wooyeon drags you back, kicking and screaming the whole way,” you joke, smiling as Wooyeon grins and hums in agreement.

“Surely you wouldn't do that to me, right Wooyeon?” Nayeon asks, turning and pouting at her in an exaggeratedly cute manner.

“The option's never been more tempting,” Wooyeon replies, sticking out her tongue in response.

“Okay okay fine, I surrender,” Nayeon tells her, raising her hands in a manner all too familiar to you before turning back to you.  “I'll see you Saturday?”

“Wouldn't miss it for anything,” you tell Nayeon, pulling her into a tight hug that finally dispels the vast amount of tension she'd built up in such a short time.

“Neither would I,” Nayeon murmurs back before pulling away just enough to capture your lips one final time.

“Alright, let's go,” Nayeon tells Wooyeon, interlocking arms with her as they begin to walk away.

“So, for the first part of my apology, I want …” Wooyeon's voice trails off as they walk out of earshot.  But you remain in place, watching their retreating forms until they leave your field of view.  And then perhaps a minute longer, just in case.

But eventually, you also turn away and begin your departure.  The only topic on your mind as you walk, ride the bus, and then walk again on your journey to reach your home is the storm of emotions within.  On the one hand, it gave you the confidence to act in a way you wouldn't have been willing to normally, leading to an amazing and memorable moment.  But on the other hand, you can't shake the feeling that this upswell wasn't the final manifestation of these detrimental feelings.  All you can do is hope that if they do flare again, that night won’t be memorable for all the wrong reasons.

tick…

tock…

As you walk alongside Nayeon, you can’t help but marvel at how normal this new norm feels.  Even just a few weeks ago, you would have desperately lunged at the chance to see Nayeon a single time, but now, seeing her multiple times a week feels routine.  Normal.  Unremarkable?

Definitely not unremarkable, as the memory of your arms wrapped around her waist and her lips pressed against your own is just as vivid as it felt in that moment a few nights ago.  Even the restlessness of flaking on the group’s performance for the first time last night feels insignificant in comparison to the contentment you feel right now.

Which is why it’s so jarring when you’re met by a “CLOSED” sign on the shop’s door for the first time ever.

“‘Apologies for the sudden closure’,” you read aloud.  “‘We’re visiting family this weekend and will be closed for the next couple of days.’”

“‘We’ll be open once again on Monday.  We hope to see you then!’” Nana concludes.  “I mean, I hope she has a nice time, but what do we do now?”

“I mean, I’m sure we can find somewhere else that sounds good.  There are a couple places nearby that I usually order delivery from,” you offer.

“Wait, isn’t your place nearby?” she asks, earning a nod in response.  “Why don’t we just pick something up on the way and eat there?  We could watch a movie too, it’ll be fun!”

“Wait wait wait,” you say, mind reeling at the implications.  “Did you just invite yourself into my apartment?”

“Yep!” Nayeon announces, shame nowhere to be found within that radiant smile.  “Now figure out which chicken place you want to order from and let’s go!”

All you can do is laugh at the absurdity of the situation as you pull out your phone and do as she asks.  After a few minutes of walking and a quick stop to pick up food, you arrive at your apartment.  Your one-bedroom apartment might pale in comparison to some of the more upscale living areas in Seoul, but you genuinely appreciate the place you call your home, and you show it to Nayeon with pride.  After a brief tour, you both unpack the large assortment of dishes that usually accompany any Korean meal and begin your dinner.

“How was your performance last night?” you ask her, forcing yourself to smile even as the initial hints of your jealousy begin to stir.

“It went well, thank you!” Nayeon responds, smiling softly at you.  “The fan turnout was amazing, so it was super easy to enjoy performing for them.  What about you, how was your night?”

“Pretty good, thank you for asking,” you say, attempting to match the warmth of her smile but unable to due to the ice in your heart.  “It was a pretty unremarkable evening in general, but I did appreciate the chance to catch up on some much-needed sleep.”

“That’s good to hear!  I missed having you there, but I’m glad you were able to rest.”

“Thank you.  I’m sorry for not being there to support you, but at least Wooyeon got to enjoy a night where she didn’t have to hunt us down.”

“She actually told me that she was sad you weren’t there!  She said on the ride over that she was sure last night was going to be your guys’ first ‘normal’ conversation.”

“Really?  That’s unfortunate, hopefully it’ll happen next time I see her.”

“Hopefully!” Nayeon agrees, and you both go back to enjoying your dinner.  

A few minutes later, once you’ve both finished and cleared away the table, you pull out your favorite oversized blanket and lounge on the couch, inviting Nayeon to join you.  She’s more than happy to oblige, taking the remote from you and immediately pulling up some recently released horror sequel.  You can’t help but voice your surprise, but your concerns are swiftly and eagerly shut down as she gets up and begins messing with the light switches, trying different combinations in an attempt to properly set the mood.  Once she finally achieves her desired lighting, she hops back onto the couch, pulling the blanket over herself and laying against your side.

As she snuggles in closer, you do your best to relax and simply enjoy the experience.  And, if nothing else, the experience is certainly entertaining, as Nayeon seems to be terrified of the jump scares that seem to occur every couple of minutes.  Yet despite her screams, she refuses every time you ask if she wants to watch something else, insisting that she’s having a great time.  Well, for the first hour at least.

“Can I ask you something?” Nayeon says suddenly as she pauses the movie.

“Of course,” you say, your mind flooding with concerns and thoughts of worst-case outcomes.

“Is everything alright?” she asks, sitting up and turning to face you.

“Like, right now?  Couldn’t be better,” you respond, fighting through your concern as you offer a strained smile.

“Mostly just in general, but you don’t seem relaxed even now, despite the fact that we’re under this stupidly soft blanket on this insanely comfy couch,” Nayeon says, smiling for a moment before her expression shifts back to seriousness.  “But honestly, you’ve seemed kinda off for a while.  It's not all the time, but often enough for me to be concerned.  Is there something you want to talk about?”

“No, it’s okay, I—” You stop yourself, searching through the dark and finding nothing but obvious care and trust in her eyes.  So, knowing you can do better, you start over.

“I’m not going to lie to you.  I promise I won’t.  So, yeah, there’s something that’s bothering me, but it’s … hard to explain.  I don’t want to hide anything from you—and I promise I will tell you, but I don’t know the words to tell you what I want to say right now.  Can I ask you to be patient with me, just for a little bit?”

“Okay,” she says, visible concern on her face as she nods.  “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Thank you, I really appreciate it,” you say, awkwardly turning back to the TV.

You’re unable to focus on the rest of the movie, deafened by the silence between you two and shivering from a coldness unrelated to the setting sun.  Even once it’s over and Nayeon gets ready to leave, neither of you are able to put on a convincing enough performance to hide your emotions.  You exchange awkward goodbyes, waving farewell instead of hugging like you’ve always done as she walks away.

Thus, it’s anything but surprising when, mere hours later, the girl of your dreams becomes the subject of your nightmares.  Spectral visions of her pained expression haunt you as the thoughts of causing her stress, pain, and suffering bind and isolate you.  You swear you can hear the haunted cackling of the manifestations of anxiety and jealousy in your mind as they cast a spotlight on your inability to quell the storm.  And as the nightmare begins to fade and you feel yourself being dragged away from her, you finally get it.

As soon as you awaken, unsurprisingly covered in sweat, you immediately grab your phone and begin composing a series of messages.  Because you refuse to let your selfishness hurt someone else, especially Nayeon.

You (5:01am): Hey, I’m so, so sorry about last night, especially how it ended

You (5:01am):  There’s somewhere I’d love to show you, it’s a private place where we should be able to spend some time together and talk

You (5:01am):  If you have an afternoon free sometime soon, please let me know

You (5:02am):  Thanks so much

Between the restless night and the anxiety of hoping for a response, the miserable day you end up having is anything but a surprise.  You check your phone at every available opportunity, but the response you're hoping for never arrives.

It isn't until after you return home, when you're sitting alone in the stale air of your frigid, empty apartment that Nayeon answers.

Nayeon🐇 (5:01pm): Hey, I'm so sorry for taking so long to respond, there were a lot of things I ended up needing to take care of today

Nayeon🐇 (5:01pm): Does tomorrow work?  I'm sorry if it's sooner than you were expecting …

You (5:02pm): No, that would actually be perfect!  Thank you so much, I'll send you the address

You press send, feeling a great weight lifted off your shoulders as you confirm the location and time with her.  Unfortunately, just as you feel yourself begin to relax, your mind begins compiling a list of the things you’ll need for tomorrow.

So, once again, you bundle up and step outside to face the harsh winds.  But this time, as the grocery store comes into view, you're eager to brave the storm.  Because you know what's waiting for you on the other side.

tick…

tock…

Noon.  The brightest point of the day.  A time of warmth.  An important part of any day for a multitude of reasons.  Specifically, the most important part of today because it's when you plan to meet Nayeon.

You scramble onto the bus just in time, sighing in relief as you check the clock and see that you’re scheduled to arrive a bit early, just as you’d hoped.  So, with a bit of free time during the thirty-eight-minute journey awaiting you, you first check all your belongings, happily confirming that nothing's been lost in transit.  You look out the window, frowning slightly at the clouds slowly rolling across the sky, blocking out the clear sky you'd hoped would be the backdrop to this crucial day.  You cast that aside, choosing instead to focus on what you can control.  Like what exactly you want to say to her.  How you want to convey your feelings to her.

Is this a confession?  A request?  An invitation?  A farewell?  No, you know it's definitely not a farewell.  But you still don't know what exactly you want to tell her.

Actually, that's not entirely true either, because when you’re with her, you can't help but want to talk to her about anything and everything.  But just for today, you hope that you can be greedy.  You hope that you'll somehow find the exact words you need to convey how you feel.  The exact words she needs to hear.  The exact words that'll help you solve this problem.  The exact words she wants to hear.  The exact words that'll steal her heart.

A familiar little robotic voice echoes throughout the bus, informing you that you’ve arrived.  You gather up your blanket, basket, and jacket, then exit the bus and turn to walk towards your destination.

As you slip your sunglasses on, you look around, smiling slightly at the memories resurfacing at the sight of so many familiar shops from your past.  You see the pet store where you cried because your mom wouldn't buy you a chinchilla for your fifth birthday.  You see the small ice cream shop where you celebrated your first soccer tournament victory with your friends.  You see the hair salon where the stylist always teased you for growing out your hair over your ears as a teenager.

And when you turn the corner, you see the bridge where you had your first kiss.  There, standing alone, a familiar flash of gold hides beneath a cap and scarf, and the sight of her finally makes you see the truth.  Waiting for you atop that bridge, you see your first love.

“Of course.”

Your knuckles whiten as they tightly grip the wooden handle of the basket.  You feel your legs attempt to lock up, but you force yourself to break free of anxiety's cold grip and begin to close the distance.  You barely make it onto the small bridge before she perks up at the sound of your footsteps and turns to face you.

“Hey, I'm so sorry for making you wait, I tried to be here as soon as—”

“No, no, don’t worry about it,” Nayeon says, lips upturned in a hint of a smile.  “I’m used to being the first one to arrive and I only got here a couple minutes ago.”

You both pause for a moment, an uncharacteristically awkward silence filling the air between you two as you both search for the right thing to say.

“Thanks for inviting me here,” Nayeon says after a few moments.  “I've never been to this neighborhood before.”

“No, thank you for being willing to come, especially so soon!” you quickly respond.  “I’m sorry for being vague about it earlier, but this is actually where I grew up.”

“Oh really?” Nayeon asks, looking around with a renewed interest.  “I'm sure you have so many stories to tell about this place!”

“Something like that,” you say meekly, looking down at the sidewalk.  Where you remember standing as you kissed your first crush so many years ago.  Where you remember standing as your tears hit the pavement when that same girl said goodbye for the last time.  Where you stand now, hoping that you can convince the best thing that's ever happened to you to stay.

“Well then, where are we going?” Nayeon asks.  “Don't tell me you're going to ask me to cheat on Aunt Kim by going to another noodle shop!”

“Of course not!” you exclaim, feeling your vigor return as you laugh with her.

“That's probably for the best.  I don't suppose it's that ice cream store either?” Nayeon asks excitedly.

“Maybe after,” you say, chuckling at her dramatic pout.

“I did come with a plan for lunch,” you continue, holding up the basket and showing it to her.

“Oh, that's amazing!” Nayeon exclaims, finally closing the distance between you two and hugging you tightly.  “You're the cutest!”

You're initially baffled by Nayeon, who's so much shorter than you, calling you cute, but you're more than willing to bite back your response and simply hold her close.  After a minute or so, you force yourself to pull away.

“Alright, so where are we going?” Nayeon asks as her eyes eagerly explore the area.

“It's about a fifteen-minute walk from here, maybe twenty if you want me to act as a tour guide.”

“I'm in no rush when I'm with you,” Nayeon immediately responds.  “Tell me everything.”

After taking a second to make sure your heart hasn’t overloaded, you extend your hand to her.  “Alright, but only because it's you.  Follow me.”

Nayeon happily obliges, and with her hand in yours, you begin the journey upstream through the sands of time.  You spend the first few minutes of the walk pointing out the local stores and restaurants that you fondly remember, initially avoiding any mention of places associated with less flattering memories.  But as you continue on and grow more comfortable, you begin to share all of the most memorable pieces of your past, much to the delight of Nayeon, who's happy to laugh with and at you as you tell her about the defining moments of your childhood.

After roughly ten minutes, you come to a stop, staring up at one tall, gray building in particular amongst the half-dozen duplicates in the area.

“What about this place?” Nayeon asks, noticing your hesitation.

“This is … the place I grew up,” you explain.  “My parents and I lived in this apartment building until I graduated high school and went off to college.”

“Oh, so this was your home?”

“You could say that, but I don't think of it that way.  This is the place where I lived, but it isn't the place where I made the most memories.”

“Hmm, I think I understand.  Did you have a place you'd call your home instead?”

“I did,” you confirm, gripping her hand tighter.  “We're going there now.”

You continue on, allowing the air to grow quiet as you walk under the canopy of trees hanging over the path between two streets.  After a few minutes of this comfortable contemplation, you speak up.

“I know this is gonna sound weird but hear me out.”

“That's certainly one way to start a conversation,” Nayeon jokes, squeezing your hand slightly.  “But sure, I'm listening.”

“I really appreciate how easy it is to just … enjoy being with you,” you explain.  “How you make me feel comfortable even when we're being quiet, because just being together is enough.”

“Uh huh.  And you wanted to convey this to me by breaking the silence to do so?”

“Listen, I … yeah, I guess so.  I just wanted to let you know how you make me feel.  I'm far from the best with words, as I'm sure you've noticed.”

“I might have,” she jokes, pulling herself closer against your side.  “But I don't think you give yourself enough credit.”

“Oh?  Why do you say that?”

“Because I already knew you felt that way,” Nayeon says, looking up at you with bright eyes and a brighter smile.  “And because I feel the same way too.”

You share a few more minutes of soft silence as you walk along the road, traveling under the canopy until it parts and you see the clouds above.  A couple of streets and turns later, you arrive at your destination.

“This is the park where I used to play soccer,” you explain.  “To your right is where I scored a goal to win a tournament match, and if you look wayyy in the back left, you can see where I made an opponent so angry, he shoved me to the ground and nearly broke my wrist.”

“Oh wow!” Nayeon exclaims, covering her mouth as a snippet of laughter threatens to escape.  “You must have a lot of fond memories of this place.”

“Yeah …” you say, trailing off as you cast your mind back to those times ten, fifteen years ago.  “I made a lot of friends—and enemies—on these fields.”

“Do you still keep in touch with many of them?  Your friends, not your enemies,” she clarifies.

“No, almost none of either group actually,” you admit.  “It gets hard when people move away and college or work takes over your life.  I make sure to stay in contact with one, my best friend from those times, but even that’s a bit of a struggle.  I haven’t seen him in who knows how many years, just talked with him online.”

“I—wow…” Nayeon says, eyes sweeping the empty grass that you’ll always remember as full of life.  “I can’t even imagine being separated from Wooyeon.”

“Well, it’s probably different when you see each other, what, 350 days out of the year?” you point out.

“That’s fair,” she admits, finally releasing that pent-up chuckle.  “Thank you for showing me this, I’m sure it means a lot to you.”

“Of course,” you say, offering her a smile.  “Now I want to show you the place that became my home.”

“Then let’s go!” Nayeon announces, returning your smile and allowing you to lead her across the expanse that seemed endless when you were younger.

Eventually, you reach a small chain link fence, which you follow until you’re met with the familiar sight of a rusted gate with a faded combination lock.

“Let’s hope they haven’t changed this,” you say, mostly to yourself, as you input the code: 090301.

To your great joy—and mild surprise—it unlatches, allowing you to open the gate and lead Nayeon inside.  Within, you easily navigate through the branches and brush, memories coming back in a rush as you delve deeper and deeper.  After about a minute, you arrive, pulling back a branch and allowing Nayeon to pass by you into the small clearing.  Surrounded on all sides by trees, a pair of smooth, plateau-like rocks sit a couple meters from a softly flowing creek, granting you both the solitude that this private sanctum had always blessed you with.

“This is it,” you explain, nearly whispering the words as Nayeon takes in the scene.  “This was … everything, really.  This is where I came when I needed to think, needed to decompress, or … needed to know what I needed, I guess.”

“This is incredible!” Nayeon says, eyes wide as she frenetically scours every centimeter of the area, committing it to memory.  “How did you even find this place?”

“Everyone I’ve ever brought here has asked me that exact question,” you say, a sentimental smile spreading across your face.  “But I’ll tell you the same thing I told the other two; I feel like it honestly found me.  I just … went out looking for a sign of something on a night where I needed direction and found myself here.”

“This is actually the first time I’ve come here since moving away for college,” you continue.  “It’s crazy how as much as things change, they stay the same.”

“I guess so …” Nayeon says, trailing off before turning and meeting your eyes.  “Thank you for bringing me here.  I can tell this place holds a special place in your heart and I deeply appreciate you sharing it with me.”

“Of course,” you say after a moment, struggling to formulate words under the intensity of her gaze.  “You hold a special place in my heart too, so I appreciate you trusting me and coming here with me.”

Nayeon is content to let her smile be her response, so you lay out the blanket across the smooth rocks and take a seat on one, gesturing towards the other.  “Come on, let’s talk.”

“Talk?” she asks, implication obvious in her voice as her eyes harden.

“Talk,” you confirm with a nod.

“Okay,” Nayeon whispers, barely loud enough for you to hear above your pounding heartbeat as she takes a seat beside you.  She shakes her hands like they’ve gone numb, then continues, “Please, tell me what’s going on.  Everything that’s going on.”

“Nayeon, I want to make sure you know something, something very important,” you tell her, earning a nod in response.  “I care about you.  So much.  Maybe too much.  I know I haven’t been returning the warmth that you’ve shared with me, and for that, I am so sorry.”

You pause, release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, and deeply inhale before continuing, “It’s just—sometimes when I’m with you, negative emotions start building up inside me that feel like a storm threatening to pull me under.  Sometimes, I can’t help but feel jealous when I see you on stage or when you talk about your fans, because it feels like there’s so many of them and I’m just … me.  I feel like they’ve known you longer, seen more of you, and that you can’t help but prioritize them because your job depends on it.  I know I shouldn’t feel this way, and I know that it’s selfish.”

You force yourself to stop and look at her.  She sits patiently, listening attentively as she nods once again, waiting for you to continue.  So, you do.  “I want you to know, more than anything else, that none of this is your fault.  And I am so, so sorry for putting you in this position.  But after you asked me if everything was alright, I knew that I couldn’t hide it from you any longer.  I knew that if I kept this inside, it would boil over and end up hurting you in the process.  And I can’t allow that to happen—I can’t let you get hurt because of how I feel—but I can’t walk away without telling you the truth.  And I know I have no right to do this to you and I understand if you’re upset and if you want me to leave I—”

“Hey, hey, listen to me,” Nayeon says softly, cupping your face in her ever so delicate hands.  “Thank you, so much, for telling me this.  I don’t and won’t ever blame you for feeling those kinds of feelings. I wish I could tell you that I understand and that everything will be alright, but I can't.  Honestly, I probably won’t ever truly be able to.”

“But I need you to trust me when I tell you that you mean everything to me,” she continues.  “And I need you to trust me when I tell you I’m willing to face this problem as long as it’s by your side.  And when I say that we can get through this, together, I mean it with every fiber of my being and all of my heart.  All I can ask is that you put your faith in me, in yourself, and most importantly, in us.  Can you do that for me?”

“Just like that?” you ask, dumbfounded.  “I’m being completely unfair, presenting you with this problem, and you’re somehow still willing to give me more support?”

“For you?  Absolutely,” she responds resolutely.  “I don’t know if I’d ever be able to piece my heart back together if you broke it by leaving.”

“Then yes, I—Yes,” you declare, placing your hands on hers and holding them tightly.  “Absolutely, I can.  I will.  I promise.”

She beams with joy, immediately responding, “Anything for me, right?”

You gently pull her hands away from your face, interweaving your fingers with hers as you tell her, “Of course Nana, it’s always been you.  You’ve been the only thing that matters to me since the moment I saw you.  It’s always been you and always will be.”

You watch as her eyes go wide.  “You’ve never called me that before.”

“I guess so …” you say, trailing off as the realization hits you too.  “I’m sorry if you’d—“

You stop yourself as Nana untangles her fingers from yours in an instant, wrapping her arms around you and squeezing you so tightly that it’s nearly impossible to continue.

“Please say something,” you manage to get out, chuckling awkwardly.  “I kinda just poured my heart and soul out to you and I’d really appreciate you sharing your thoughts.”

“My arms are getting tired from how tightly I’m hugging you and you still need me to tell you what I’m thinking?” Nana scoffs, nuzzling into your chest and refusing to let go.

“Fair point,” you admit, contentedly wrapping your arms around her, though nowhere near as tightly as she’s hugging you.  “Thank you, Nana.”

“For what?  The hug?” she asks, somehow squeezing you even tighter.

“I mean, yes, the hug is amazing, but that isn’t what I meant,” you choke out.  “For being so good to me.  From that first day we met all the way until today, I feel like I’ve been the one with the problem and you’ve been the one with the solution.”

“Maybe, but that won’t always be the case,” Nana responds, loosening her hold on you just enough to allow you to breathe again.  “And if a storm comes and attempts to drag me under, I like to believe you’ll be there, holding on for dear life and refusing to let go.”

You don’t even try to respond verbally, instead releasing your hold on her and using your newly free hand to cup her chin.  As your thumb slowly traces patterns across the soft skin of her cheek, the rest of your body closes what little distance remains between you, allowing you to brush the faintest of kisses onto her lips.  You kiss her gently, tenderly, barely making any contact as your lips land on hers and then depart before she can kiss you back.  You repeat these featherlight flits over and over again, attempting to convey all the feelings you’ve left unsaid.  And finally, when she tightens her hold on you and mewls in frustration, you fervently capture her lips and refuse to be the one who pulls away.

Your conviction ends up just barely lasting long enough for Nana to pull away first, but the light-headedness and dizziness that blocks your view of the only thing you want to be seeing right now is a powerful reminder that oxygen is, in fact, important.  For a short while, the sound of both of you panting is the only sensation that keeps you tethered to consciousness.  But eventually, when you manage to part the darkness and open your eyes, you’re met with the sight of Nana, her chest expanding and contracting just as rapidly as yours as you both amend your oxygen deficits.  And if her smudged lipstick, flushed face, and wild, wide eyes staring into yours are any indication, you’re fairly confident she’s satisfied with your response.

“So … lunch?”

“Just like that?” she asks, dumbfounded.  “You literally take my breath away and that’s all you have to say?”

“Oh, I did have something else!” you remark, acting far more nonchalantly than you feel.  “I love you, Nana.”

It can’t be instantaneous.  But you don’t quite know how it happens either.  Your heart skips a beat when you see a blur of motion in your periphery, then you blink and you’re on the ground with Nana holding you down.  Somewhere around the second or third second of Nana kissing you, it finally connects in your mind.  She actually just tackled you off the rock.

“I—love—you—too,” Nana tells you, whispering each word into your ear in the moments between her own featherlight kisses.  Your heart soars at her reciprocation of your feelings, and as soon as she decides the time for words is over, you’re more than happy to oblige.  She melts into you as you wrap your arms around her back and return her kiss, matching her fervor and maybe even exceeding it.  You both know to pull away much sooner than you did last time, respecting the harsh lesson your bodies had given you.

“You know, a little warning would be nice,” you tease, smiling up at her.

“You’re one to talk!” Nana exclaims, hitting your chest with one small hand as she fans her crimson visage with the other.  “Don’t you know that it’s downright irresponsible to just drop something on me like that?”

“To be fair, I was under the impression that we both expected you to be the responsible one here,” you say, bringing out your puppy eyes and painting faux innocence across every centimeter of your face.

“I … you … ugh!” she grumbles, a rainbow of emotions flashing across her face before she finally leans away from you.  “Yes dear, lunch sounds wonderful.”

It’s right then when you realize another thing that makes Nana special.  She makes your cheeks hurt with how much you smile around her.  And even minutes later, after you’ve both gotten up, unpacked the basket, and you’ve both begun to eat the home cooked meals out of the little plastic containers they’re stored in, the smile she so easily coaxes out of you hasn’t left your face.

“I didn’t get to say it earlier after you blindsided me, but thank you too,” Nana says midway through your meal.

“Blindsided is a bit rich coming from you, the only person here who literally tackled the other, but I digress,” you respond, smiling warmly at her amused smirk.  “What for?”

“For being my friend,” she says, turning away from you and staring into the woods.  “It’s … hard to make friends as an idol.  There are so many expectations for how we’re meant to behave and we’re often too busy to really spend time with others.  I really appreciate your willingness to be flexible and even come to our performances, especially now that I know how it was affecting you …”

“Of course, I’m always happy to be flexible, it’s for you,” you tell her, taking her hand in yours.  “Even if you’re only able to spare a few minutes after each performance, I’m sure we could make it work.”

“But it doesn’t have to only be then, that’s not fair to either of us,” she says, squeezing your hand back.  “Days like this are worth clearing my schedule for.”

“Wait, you cleared your schedule for today?  To see me?  Yesterday?  Before you even knew if I was available?” you ask, receiving a quartet of nods in response.

“That’s why I took so long to respond yesterday, I was running around taking care of all my responsibilities in the dorm and doing the choreography practice I’d planned to do today,” Nana explains.  “I trusted that you’d make it work.  When I saw your text that early in the morning, I figured that you hadn’t been able to sleep either.”

“Wow … I … didn’t even realize … thank you for doing so much for me,” you say, idly tracing circles against the back of her hand.  “But truly, I am always happy to see you, regardless of time or circumstance.  I’m really looking forward to seeing you perform in the future; it’ll be nice to be able to really enjoy you doing what you love without jealousy blinding me.”

“That’s great to hear!” she responds, turning back and smiling at you.  “You taking the time to come see us means so much to me … the first thing I do whenever I get on stage is find you in the crowd.”

“Oh, I—oh.  Thank you,” you say, grateful that you manage to reply before those words join the rest in vacating your mind.

“Of course!” Nana responds, smiling warmly at you before you both return to your lunch.  After you both finish your meals, you look up to the sky, grimacing as you see the consolidation of the clouds as they blot out the sun.

“Hey, Nana,” you say, pointing up to the sky as she turns to you.  “We should definitely get going before we end up stuck in the rain.”

“Okay,” she says, nodding resolutely.  “Let’s get packed up and go.”

You both work together in harmony, loading the containers back into the basket in a fraction of the time it took to unload them.  You take her hand once more, hastily leading her along the trails and roads you've traversed alone countless times.

“We might have to skip the ice cream today,” you tell Nana as you both quickly walk down the streets that house so many memories.

“Oh no!  I guess you'll just have to make it up to me later …” Nana responds, smiling in understanding.

A minute or so later, just as the first few drops of rain begin to fall like your tears that night on the bridge, you arrive at the bus stop.

“This is where I need to get on the bus,” you say to Nana.  “Where are you going, can I call you a taxi?  Were you intending on someone picking you up?  What's the plan?”

Nana smiles in a very particular way, the same way she always seems to smile whenever she realizes that she knows something you don't.  “I'm going wherever you're going.  That's been my plan for a long, long time now.”

You're grateful for the rain, as the sounds of its fall are the only sounds to be found in the seconds that pass before you're able to respond.  You wrap your jacket around her shoulders, sheltering her from the cold as you stare directly into her eyes and tell her, “I … I don't know what I did to deserve the trust you put in me, but I'm incredibly grateful for it.  I promise you that I will never take it for granted.  I promise you, with every fiber of my being and all of my heart, that I will never break that trust.”

“I know,” Nana responds, her whispered words bouncing between the raindrops before barely reaching your ears.  “You showed me your heart today, the least I can do is give you mine.”

You pull Nana close and gently rest your forehead against hers.  Each falling raindrop and each flowing teardrop helps you paint the picture, telling her the thousands of words you can’t verbalize but need her to know.  In this shared moment, as echoes of your past remind you of those sorrowful tears shed so many years ago, your joyful ones return you to the present and the gift in your arms.  So, at least in this moment, you hold Nana tight, vowing to never let her go.

You pull away only when the bus arrives a few minutes later but remain hand in hand as you walk forward.  After stepping on, paying for both of your fares, and finding a pair of seats, you pull out a pair of earbuds and offer Nana one.  She's more than happy to accept, and as she rests her head on your shoulder and you queue up a series of serene love songs from your favorite artists, you hope their words can do a better job of telling Nana how much you love her.

tick…

tock…

“We're here,” you whisper to Nana, gently shaking her awake.  “Just take my hand, I'll lead you home.”

“Okay,” she murmurs, interweaving her fingers with yours and following you through the bus, down the steps, and into the monsoon that immediately jolts her back into consciousness.

“Oookaaayyyy, I'm up!” Nana declares, pulling your jacket tight against her small frame.  “Lead the way, I don't think these pants are gonna do much against a storm like this!”

You take off immediately, leading her as quickly as you can down the sidewalks before eventually stopping at an interaction where you ask her, “But really, why does it always seem like your outfits are in no way at all suited to the weather?”

“Because my outfit looks cute!” Nana exclaims indignantly.  “And you of all people should be glad that’s my priority!”

“Of course, you're right,” you respond, kissing her on the nose in apology.  “Then again, I'm convinced you'd make anything look good, but I do genuinely appreciate that you care and that you put thought into your outfits.  It makes me feel special.”

The crosswalk finally flashes green, and you take off once again, leading Nana towards your apartment as she scolds you.  “Seriously, you can't just keep saying things like that so casually!  There are at least four heartwarming things in that statement that make me want to kiss you, but your question was so stupid that I still kinda want to slap you!  And this stupid rain isn’t helping anything at all!  And I’m cold!  Ugh!”

You're grateful that you're ahead of Nana, because you know that if she sees the goofy smile on your face, you'll be in big trouble.  “Okay dear, I'm sorry I made you feel that way,”  you respond, speaking in the most soothing tone possible.  “We’re almost to my apartment, where it’ll be n-nice and warm, and w-we’ll make everything better.  I p-promise.”

Neither of you speak another word for the remainder of your mad dash, too busy fighting off the shivers to do so.  After a few more minutes, you arrive back at your home, where you tear the key from your pocket, hurriedly unlock the door, and shepherd her inside.

“O-Okay, I’m g-going to start the sh-shower f-for you and g-grab a dry set of clothes for y-you to change into, please f-feel free to d-discard that j-jacket l-literally anywhere,” you manage to tell Nana, taking off as she begins to do as you request.

You fight off the shivers as you quickly dash around your apartment, flipping the shower on and grabbing yourself a towel before darting into your bedroom and grabbing some dry clothes for both of you, then returning to Nana.

“Okay, t-the shower should b-b-be nice and h-hot, and there’s a c-clean towel in t-t-there y-you can u-use,” you stammer as you round the corner.  “H-Here’s something t-to … change … into …”

Your voice escapes you as you see her, back turned as she watches the rain mercilessly paint the cobblestone.  You first see the soaked cotton of her top and how it shakes as her small figure shivers in the cold.  But that isn’t what catches your eye and leaves you dizzy.  It’s the way her pants have tightened, showcasing the sculpted definition of her thighs and how they flow upwards to display the perfectly round curve of her ass.

As she turns, you force yourself to pull your gaze upwards, feeling your face flush as your pulse continues to quicken.  You drag your eyes up her body, past her toned stomach that hides beneath the sopping garments, past her pert breasts and stiff nipples that strain against the soaked fabric, past her shaking shoulders and kissable neck and diamond jawline and roseate lips and adorable nose until finally you meet those chocolate eyes that stare back at you.

“T-Thank you s-s-soooo m-much,” Nana responds, fighting off her own shivers as she takes the clothes from you, then darts off towards the warmth awaiting her, leaving you frozen in more ways than one.

You do your best to ignore how difficult it is to remove your soaked pants, especially as they cling to your skin and especially because of your hardening erection that’s impossible to miss.  After removing all of your drenched attire and placing the dripping bundle alongside the jacket you loaned Nana, you attempt to dry yourself off, saturating the towel with frigid water far quicker than you’d hoped you would.  Once you’re sure that you’ve gotten your money’s worth, you add the towel to the pile in the sink, then put on the pajamas you’d grabbed and turn up the thermostat to its highest setting.

Once you're confident that you’ve done all you can, you collapse, couch creaking in protest at the impact.  In this moment to breathe, the events of the day begin to hit you, flashing across your mind in sync with the droplets of rain against your window.  You think of all the places that defined your childhood.  You think of faces long forgotten.  You think of faces you’ll never forget.  You think of echoes.  You think of her atop that bridge.  You think of her atop that bridge.  You think of all the words that escaped your lips.  You think of Nana’s small hands lifting the weight of the world off your shoulders.  You think of her body on top of yours as she pinned you down with kisses.  You think of her body.  You think of the cold.  You think of heat.  You think of your soaked clothes clinging to your skin.  You think of Nana’s soaked clothes clinging to her skin.  You think of Nana, dripping wet.  You think of Nana, dripping wet.

As you stare out the window, your mind vaguely registers the sound of a hair dryer.  But soon even that sense joins the others, consumed with the thoughts of Nana.  One storm for another.  You’re not even sure if the words escape your lips.

The door opens, and you get up to face Nana.  She’s radiant, each strand of gold and each centimeter of porcelain glowing in the dim light of your apartment.  She’s wearing glasses.  She’s wearing your favorite shirt.  She’s wearing nothing else.

“Hey,” she whispers, somehow slotting seventy emotions into that single syllable as it floats over to you.

You've always viewed Nana as pretty.  She's always been cute.  She'll never not be beautiful.  But as you fight off the arctic chill that permeates your bones, you realize you've never looked at her this way.  You can't help but notice how hot she is.  You see Nana as sexy for the first time.

“Hey,” she calls again, tilting her head and leaning to the side.  It’s unfair, the way she sinks against the doorframe.  It’s immoral, the way she makes herself look even smaller as she hides in the folds of your shirt.  It’s incomprehensible, the way the wide rims of her glasses make her pleading eyes look even bigger.  It’s criminal, the way she hides her intent behind that innocent smile.

“Are you just gonna sit there with your jaw on the floor for the rest of the night, or are you going to say something?”

“N-Nana, if you could s-see what I see, y-you’d be speechless t-too,” you manage to get out, unable to suppress the shivers as you respond.

“Well, you could walk into the bathroom that I might have sorta turned into a sauna,” Nana offers, the smallest of smiles beginning to show.

“Or …” she continues, taking her time as she closes the distance between you two.  “I could warm you up …”

Your arms wrap around her instinctually as she presses her body against you.  You can feel the sculpted frame hidden beneath the oversized shirt.  You can feel the tension.  You can feel the heat.  And as your eyes drift down to her lips, you can feel your reservations flying out the window to join the falling rain.

You kiss her.  Gently.  Delicately.  And she shoves you backwards onto the couch.

“Absolutely not,” Nana declares, climbing into your lap.  She wraps her arms around your neck, licking her lips hungrily before pulling you close.  Within a second of her claiming your lips with her own and beginning to grind against your lower half, any questions you might have had join your reservations on the pavement outside.  You match her intensity, running your tongue along her lips patiently, then expectantly, and claim her mouth as soon as she lets you in.  Your hands roam, dragging your fingers like ice cubes across her hips and down her thighs as she hisses into your mouth.

You work your way up her body, past her waistline and under your her shirt.  You travel further, past the lean abs she’s worked so hard to sculpt, across the ridges and valleys of her expanding and contracting rib cage, all the way until the tips of your fingers brush the sensitive underside of her breasts.  The whimper that escapes her mouth into yours is immediate.  It’s needy.  It’s pathetic.  It’s the hottest sound you’ve ever heard.

The soft, malleable skin becomes a pair of perfect handfuls as you explore the fringes of Nana’s breasts, sending sparks through her synapses and shockwaves down her spine.  You break away from her kiss, just for a moment, just long enough to watch her collapse onto you as you finally knead her swollen nipples between your fingers.  You take the opportunity to access the curve of her neck, mentally noting where earns the loudest moans as you suck, kiss, and nip the sensitive skin.

“Look at you, so desperate,” you whisper into her ear, grinding your hips against hers and forcing her to moan.  “I’ve barely even touched you, but somehow you’re even more drenched than earlier.”

“And you know what’s the worst part?” you murmur, stretching a single second across the tension before continuing.  “That’s nothing compared to what you’re doing to me.  I’ve never been so hard in my fucking life.”

“You—you’re—OH!!!”

You know what you’re doing when you latch onto that particular spot on the base of her neck; that her response is going to be lost, lost in the sound of her moan echoing against your walls.  But you also know what she wanted to verbalize, what her body has been telling you as it tenses up even further.  So, when you feel her shaking, on the precipice, you’re more than willing to lend a hand.  You’re happy to detach from her breast, brushing against her sensitive folds with the back of your hand.  And so, when you’re kind enough to simply graze her clit with an icy fingernail, you also make sure to hold her as she comes undone.

The first orgasm you give Nana is a cinematic experience, with a soundtrack of the most ungodly of moans alongside her quivering limbs and the deathly grip on your shoulders as if you’re the only thing keeping her afloat.  You gently trace circles along her back, whispering sweet nothings into her ear and holding her as she rides out the high.  You wait, long after the quivering has ceased and she’s unclenched her hands, long enough for her to meet your eyes and show you that the fog has lifted.

“Hey,” you murmur, goofy grin growing wider as you see her eyes flash with outrage.

“You can’t keep doing this!” Nana exclaims, huffing in frustration when all you have to offer is your gleaming smile.  “You can’t just blow my mind and change my life and end it with a ‘Hey’!”

“Who said that was the end?” you ask, humor discarded as your tone drops.  “You did what you said you would, now we’re both hot and bothered.”  You look into her eyes, see the recognition and excitement.  Then, you see the desire reignite as you thrust upwards, teasing her sex with only a bit of friction.  “What are you going to do about it?”

Nana meets the challenge with equal passion, whispering into your ear, “I’m going to show you a side of me that no one has ever seen before.”

Having adequately spiked your blood pressure, Nana climbs off you, moving with idol-like grace as she sashays towards your bedroom door.  Having reached the end of the runway, she turns, throwing off her shirt and modeling her pristine form for you.  She’s divine.  You somehow tear your eyes away from her flawless figure, staring instead into her molten eyes.  She captures her bottom lip between her teeth, slowly dragging them across the soft, pink skin before twisting her innocuous expression into one of sinister glee.  She’s sin incarnate.

Then, she’s gone, retreated back into your bedroom.  You’re off the couch in a blur, flinging off your shirt and pajama bottoms, discarding the soaked pieces of clothing as they join the rest.  You round the corner, entering your bedroom, and you have to pinch yourself to make sure you aren’t dreaming.

You’ve seen Nana dozens of times at this point, seen her in outfits ranging from luxury goods to school uniforms to casual attire to athletic wear.  You’ve seen her when doted on by professional stylists, just after a dance practice, and everywhere in-between.  But when you see her here, in your bed, wearing nothing but a smile and absolutely glistening in anticipation, you swear your heart stops.

You climb onto the bed; you climb on top of her.  You kiss her.  Not lightly, not lustfully, but lovingly.  And when she kisses you back, you feel that exact same longing.  Despite the sincerity in the kiss, you don’t feel the heat in the room diminish at all.  No, you just realize it’s everburning.

You pull away.  Barely.  Just enough room for words.  Just far enough to see her eyes.

“No interruptions this time, it's just you and me,” you murmur, causing her to shudder in anticipation right up until a thunderclap echoes throughout the apartment and makes you both jump.

“We really need to work on our timing, don’t we?” Nana jokes, harmonious laughter escaping her as you see her anticipation, affection, and arousal merge, forming the euphoric expression she wears earnestly.

“Yeah, so maybe one interruption,” you say, laughing along with her until her mess of giggles comes to an end.  

“But you are mine, Nana,” you whisper, your hot breath inflaming her senses as each syllable reaches her ears.  “I am yours, and tonight belongs to no one else.  Just us.  Tonight is ours.”

“Perfect,” she whispers back, that single word a lit match she drops directly into your heart.  “What now?”

“Show me,” you say, rolling you both and flipping your positions so she’s atop you.  You give her control.  Earnestly.  You give her your trust.  Easily.  You give her your all.  You give her everything.

When she takes your length in her hand, giving you your first hints of pleasure, you groan in relief.  When she lines you up with her entrance and drips arousal onto your tip, you inhale through your teeth, hissing as if you’d been burned.  And when she lowers herself onto you and takes you inside her, it literally takes your breath away.

“Fuuuck…” Nana hisses, sending your heart rate into the stratosphere.  “It feels … so … fucking … amazing …”

“You’re incredible Nana,” you growl through gritted teeth, hands latching onto her hips and gripping tighter than you probably should.  But any expectation of you being perfectly in control of yourself is entirely unreasonable when she’s moving like this, taking you deeper and deeper into her warmth at an agonizingly slow pace.  You can’t help it; her face, her body, the way she quivers - you can’t tear your eyes away, not when you see the beads of sweat splattered across her furrowed brow.  Not when you can practically hear the grinding of her tensed jaw.  And certainly not when her closed eyelids hide those rich chocolate eyes.

“Take your time,” you whisper soothingly.  “No need to rush, I’ll stay here forever as long as it’s with you.”  You see some of the tension evaporate from her shoulders, but that does nothing for the vice grip she still has around your cock.  Her progress accelerates slightly, taking on more and more of you with each passing moment before finally, finally your hips collide.

“There we go,” Nana mumbles, reopening her eyes and regaining a bit of that hubris you’ve come to know and … like.  Having finally reached her destination, you can see the gears turning in Nana’s head as she starts to experiment, rolling her hips against yours and exploring all the possible sensations she can experience.  One particular angle catches you off guard, causes you to moan even louder than before.  You see it in her eyes, see how they immediately ignite.  She repeats the motion, ripping another of those moans from deep within your chest as you see that gleefully sinister smile return.

The image of Nana bouncing up and down on your cock is obscene yet puts all other art to shame with its beauty.  You simultaneously appreciate and despise her dancing background as she moves with unyielding precision.  She places her hands on your shoulders as she continues exploring, utilizing her flexibility and strength to adjust her position and flex her muscles in ways you’d never thought possible, much less experienced.

“Oh my god Nana …” Your words trail off, lost to the pleasures of her latest findings, but they fan the flames all the same.

“Tell me how good that feels,” Nana purrs, punctuating her point by sliding herself back down onto the base of your cock.  Then again.  And again.  And again.

“It feels so—FUCK!—ing good,” you manage to choke out, throwing your head back in pleasure.  Almost instantly, Nana grabs you by the chin, pulling you forward and making it impossible to look anywhere else.

“Don’t you dare look anywhere else,” she growls, sending a new sensation down your spine as her ceaseless riding continues to chip away at your sanity.  “Tell me how I make you feel.”

“You—ugh!” Words escape you, your mind unable to comprehend things other than pleasure and pain and Nana.  Your grip tightens, tight enough to bruise, as you desperately try to cling to something, anything.  “You feel amazing.”

“What else?” Nana asks, picking up the pace.

“You drive me insane,” you tell her, sparing her hips further punishment as you focus on her breasts once again.

“Tell me more,” she demands, riding you even faster.

“You’re unbelievable!” you yell, mustering what little oxygen remains as you match her volume.

“More.”  Even faster.

“You’re perfect,” you say, voice dropping as her pitch rises.

“More!”  Faster.

“I love how you make me feel.”  Even quieter.

“More, more!!” she demands greedily, hips bouncing at a delirious pace as her face tenses once more.

“I love you Nana,” you whisper sweetly.  But you refuse to let the sentiment disrupt the moment, following her hips up as you thrust into her and throw off her rhythm.  “Cum for me.”

“FUCK—”

Nana somehow manages the impossible, staring through you with misty eyes as she succumbs to pleasure, drenching your lower half and the sheets below in her nectar as her orgasm violently overtakes her.  It takes everything you have to remain motionless, cock painfully throbbing as you try not to overwhelm her.  Each of you experiences the seconds as if they were lifetimes, you on the verge of pleasure and her well over the edge of it.

“You didn’t cum?” Nana asks, shifting slightly in your lap and forcing you to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from exploding inside her right then.  She raises herself off of you, maintaining eye contact the entire time she moves away and positions herself between your legs.  As she leans forward, opening her mouth and letting her warm breaths torment your torturously erect shaft further, she has the audacity to wink at you.

“Time to change that.”

The sight of her fucking tongue teasing the sensitive skin of your cock all the way from base to head is ungodly, and you know immediately, no camera flash required, that this image will be burned into your mind for all eternity.  It’s almost demeaning how casually she destroys you, idly wrapping her fingers around your shaft as her tongue begins to swirl around the head of your cock.  “Fucking hell Nana …”

If your words affect her, she’s doing a damned good job hiding it, drooling unapologetically all over the fingers that twist and pump your shaft, priming it as her mouth continues to work its way further and further down.  And all the while, the entire time she molds you to her desires like putty in her hands, she holds your eyes.  Lovingly.  Expectantly.  Enticingly.  

“I’m close …” You try to warn her, but her hum in response sends an all-new type of shock all the way down your shaft, cutting off any further waste of oxygen.  Your hands tangle into your sheets, threatening to shred them in your grip as you fight to keep the desire to let loose and absolutely defile her throat.  “I’m gonna—”

Nana ignores your words, listening to the signs of your body as she delicately unwraps her small hand from around your shaft.  The faintest flicker of disappointment flashes in the back of your mind, but it’s immediately eradicated as Nana forces herself downwards, catching you completely off-guard as she takes you into her throat, consuming you entirely.

“NANA!!”  She rips her name out from deep within you, sending you soaring over the edge of orgasm as you are unmade by pleasure.  Your body tenses and contracts, overwhelming pleasure pulsating from head to toe and every centimeter in between.  Wave after wave after wave after wave of your cum fires into her mouth, but you’re unable to bear witness as your eyelids shield you from the unholy sight.  It’s so much, so fast, that it drives you to the perfect intersection of pain and pleasure, leaving you unable to do anything but feel.

Eventually, your orgasm comes to an end, as all things must.  The first thing you do is open your eyes to see Nana, mouth still snugly around your cock as she swallows the last of drops of your deluge.  The second thing you do is remember to breathe.  You watch as she detaches herself from your cock, then joins you, for the second time today, in an agonizing minute of shaking shoulders and heaving chests as you both attempt to force enough oxygen into your lungs to be able to speak.  Fortunately, you’re both able to.  You just happen to do so first.

“So … dinner?  Or are you good … after …”

“I’m actually going to murder you,” she mutters, and you don’t even try to stop the laughter that forces its way out.

“You know, I was going to be upset at you for the whole ‘not maintaining eye contact’ thing,” Nana says with a smile of her own, climbing up the bed to lay against your side.  “But considering I’m the one that made you nearly black out, I’ll give you a pass this time.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” you offer, smiling sheepishly as you wrap an arm around her.  “But you were—”

“Yeah, uh …” she interjects, trailing off as her rapid pulse quickly delivers a crimson flush to her cheeks.  “I don’t know … it was just really nice—and really hot—to hear you say those things about me.”

“Any time,” you say as you lean in, gently kissing her on the crown of her head.  “By the way, did you … I didn’t really see …”

“Oh, this?” Nana asks, opening her mouth wide to show you the tongue and walls, unbesmirched by white.  “I’m sure you agree that was pretty hot, but I guess that means you don’t wanna—”

You roll over slightly, propping yourself up on your elbows as you climb over her once more, leaning down and cutting her sentence short as you capture her lips.  A small squeak of surprise escapes before she matches your passion, wrapping her arms around your neck as your tongues begin to dance.  As the intensity rises your heartbeat follows suit, sending blood all throughout your body and especially one place in particular.

“Not done, huh?” Nana murmurs, capturing your bottom lip between her teeth and gently sucking on it as she looks at you with her seductress’ gaze.

“For you?  Never,” you murmur back, intent and invitation clear in your eyes.

“We’ll have to test that sometime …” Nana responds, mirth and mischief manifesting in her smile as she releases your lip.  “For now though … show me.”

The kiss you leave on her lips is fleeting, acting more as a palate cleanser than any declaration or escalation.  You grab a pillow with one hand, lifting Nana up with the other and placing it under the small of her back as you set the stage.  With a bit of additional leverage gained and anticipation built, you line yourself up with her entrance, looking to Nana who nods in confirmation as you enter her once again.

You push further into her slowly, eager to reach the previous round’s intensity but mindful of her pleasure as her tightness suffocates your shaft.  Ravenous for more, you lean in, greeted by the mixed scents of coconuts and cherry blossoms and sweat and everything else about her that makes your head spin.  You’re quick to attack her neck again, latching onto one of the many spots you noted earlier and sucking relentlessly.

“Wait wait wait, no marks!” Nana exclaims, placing her hands on your shoulders and pushing you away from your target.

“I’m so sorry, I should have—” Your apology grinds to a halt as Nana, sinful gaze meeting your own, delicately lays a single finger against your lips.

“No … visible marks,” she clarifies, smirking seductively as she lowers her arms and offers you free reign once more.

You’re more than happy to seize the opportunity, capturing one of her nipples between your teeth and beginning your oral assault as you suck, swirl, and tease her with your tongue.  One hand begins exploring her body, creating only the tiniest bit of contact as it glides over each area of her flawless skin, searching for unexpected pleasure points anywhere you can reach.

“Be vocal,” you murmur, breath rolling like fog over her breast.  “I want nothing more than to know every single spot on your body that drives you wild.”

You see out of the corner of your eyes Nana opening her mouth, as if to respond, but as your hips collide once more and you fully bury your length inside of her, a deep, heady moan bulldozes through her best laid plans and tears free instead.  As you begin to thrust faster, deeper, you sink your other hand below her waistline, searching only a moment before finding the sensitive bud of her clit and adding it to your list of ministrations.

“Tell me Nana, tell me what feels good,” you say, soothing voice a stark contrast to the frenetic pace at which you chase her pleasure.

“Your fucking mouth, I love how you suck on my—ugh!” Another day, you’d feel cruel for cutting her off so rudely, but honestly, who could blame you for doing what she asks?  “And the way you feel inside me, thrusting in so deep …”  This time, it’s a sharp intake of air, but you’re happy to earn another moan as you thrust deep inside her again.  Then again, for good measure.  One more time.  “And I love the way you … with your hand … on my thigh … yesssss …”  You’ll have to make a special note for that one, apparently figure eights are the best pattern to trace along the inside of her thighs.  Who knew?

You get lost in the perfection that is Nana, thrusting wildly as you ride the high all the way up to the summit.  You mar her flawless skin with marks of desire, leave little reminders of pleasure where no one else will see them.  You feast on her skin, attempting to satiate a hunger you both know will never be sated.  Your hands roam as well, acting with a mind of their own as one roams every uncharted inch of her skin while the other stays glued between her thighs, toying mercilessly with her most sensitive area.  It’s plenty for you to keep track of, but if Nana’s reactions are anything to go by, it’s bordering on too much for her to handle.

Time’s a relative thing in general, but here, in the bedroom with Nana, there’s no eternity better spent.  You chase your pleasures together, call and response, back and forth, her and you, united as one.  You cherish the opportunity to care for Nana for once, bringing her pleasure in as many ways as possible.  “Fuck!”  You seek those profanities.  “Oh god—”  You crave those indecencies.  “You’re gonna make me …”  You hunt her peaks, and as she thrashes, shakes, quivers, and cries in your arms, you’re there to hold her the whole way down.

“Nana, I’m getting close,” you tell her, growing delirious as pleasure begins to overwhelm you.  “Where—”

“I swear to god if you cum anywhere other than inside of me …” Nana threatens, though her glassy eyes and lolled tongue diminish the impact a bit.

You feel Nana’s legs wrap around your waist, pulling you in as her arms do the same.  Her lips claim yours, capturing any senses that weren’t already completely overwhelmed by her and her alone.  As you lean into her, tongues dancing as your body disconnects from your mind, pleasure shoots through your veins like a shot or seventy of adrenaline.  If you were any more coherent, you might’ve been able to enjoy the details, like the way your cock’s twitching or the way Nana shudders slightly each time you fire another shot into her or the way you keep pumping, refusing to let any of your cum go anywhere but as deep as you can fuck it inside her.  Unfortunately, all you experience is the taste of Nana on your lips and the red, foggy haze of rapture that permeates your fucking soul.  Unlucky, really.

Your orgasm ends, eventually.  You force yourself to pull away, force yourself to focus so that you can see the elated expression of a well-fucked Nana.  There’s the faintest hint of tears in the corners of her eyes, each one earned at her own apex of pleasure.  You withdraw further, pulling out of her fully, then lay beside her and pull her into your arms.

“Hey there beautiful, you alright?”

“Not the word I would use,” Nana murmurs into your chest.  “We should get caught in the rain more often …”

Once again, quiet laughter escapes you, as it always seems to when you’re with Nana.  “I’ll keep that in mind,” you promise.  “In the meantime, we should probably get cleaned up and showered.”

“Not yet …” Nana groans, lightly smacking you like you’re an alarm clock disrupting her beauty sleep.

“Okay okay, no rush,” you respond, pulling her close and allowing the sounds of the gentle rain to fill the room.  You treasure the tranquility, basking in the simple sensations of her hands in yours and her soft breaths against your chest.  Many stanzas later, the storm’s song softens, then slowly comes to a close, but you stay there together, finding solace in each other’s embrace.  Eventually, once Nana’s fully recovered, you get up to turn the shower on and begin grabbing things, giving her everything she needs: tissues, wipes, water, hugs, kisses, and your undivided attention.

“I know this is an incredibly egotistical question, but can you walk?” you ask, smiling sheepishly as she rolls her eyes.  “Or do you want me to carry you?”

“Yes, I can, but carry me anyways,” Nana declares, throwing open her arms and waiting expectantly.

“As you wish,” you declare with a flourish, bowing deeply before scooping Nana into your arms and carrying her bridal style into the bathroom.

“Showering together?” she asks suggestively and shamelessly.

“Showering together,” you reply warmly, setting her down and testing the water.  “Let me spoil you for a bit, no need to rush.”

“Very well,” she accepts, stepping into the shower.  “Now hurry and get in here so I don’t have to warm you up all over again.”

“Yes ma’am,” you respond, climbing in after her.  You’ve never been more grateful for your replacement shower head and its absurd water pressure, though you make sure to get close to Nana just in case.

Even as you two rinse yourselves off, you can’t help but be mesmerized by the water flowing down Nana’s perfect figure.  You watch as the many drops coat each long strand of her flowing golden locks, run down each beautiful feature that comprises her face, then finally succumbs to gravity after tracing every last millimeter of her jawline.  From there, you follow their journey as they land on her collarbone and continue on into sacred territory.  Thousands of individual droplets gently caress the curvature of her breasts as they pass by, while thousands more race down the soft skin of the arms and hands that inspire so many fans to dream of their embrace.  For those droplets lucky enough to remain attached after traveling past her abs and below her waist, a pair of gently toned legs defined by years upon years of dance await.  Finally, between the pale skin of her inner thighs, the perfectly shaven holy place of indecent desires and fantasies awaits a lucky few.  Lucky you.

“You’re staring again,” Nana says, breaking you out of your reverie as she smiles shyly.

“Nana, I absolutely am,” you admit freely, shamelessly.  “You’re right here in front of me and I still can’t believe you’re real.”

“Oh, um … thanks,” Nana mumbles, turning away from you just as you see a familiar splash of crimson.

“You’re welcome, now hold still,” you tell her, grabbing a bottle of conditioner and squeezing some into your hand.  “Let me wash your hair.”

“Oh!  I mean, okay …”

You spread the viscous liquid across your hands, then begin massaging it into the many, many strands of gold that flow together and form her hair.  “This conditioner worked wonderfully back when I had lighter highlights, so hopefully it should be fine for you too.”

You trail off, focusing on the task at hand and the silk between your fingertips, but you can’t help but add, “But I wouldn’t mind buying some of whatever you normally use and keeping it here … just in case.”

Nana turns back, glaring at you for a moment before allowing you to continue.  “That’s a sentence with a whole lot of implications, but you’re cute so I’ll let you get away with it.”

“Good to know!  I promise to not use that information responsibly,” you jest, grinning uncontrollably as Nana huffs in indignation.  “Okay, let that sit for a couple minutes before rinsing it out.”

Nana turns, stepping closer to you and keeping her hair out of the waterflow as she does so.  “Can I wash yours?”

“Of course,” you tell her, handing her the bottle before closing your eyes and leaning down to allow her easier access.

“Thank you …” she murmurs.  After a few anticipatory moments in the dark, you feel her hands start working their way across your head, massaging you and coating your own strands in that same liquid that you apply on a daily basis, but have never experienced like this.

A whine slips past your lips as she finishes and pulls away, causing a score of giggles to emerge as you open your eyes to see the adorable, joyous expression of Nana’s smiling face.  “So, what’s next?”

“I’m going to wash my body with this,” you tell her, holding up a bottle of body wash as you hand her a different one.  “And you can wash yourself with that, because if I end up putting my hands all over your body, we’re never getting out of here.”

“You’re probably right,” Nana admits, mischief taking over her smile.  “However …”

“You’re not the one paying the water bill, shush!” you exclaim, turning away and beginning to lather yourself up.  Nana’s laughter rings out once more, reverberating off the tight walls of your shower as she too begins to wash herself of the improprieties that cover every centimeter of each of your bodies.

Somehow, you both manage to behave, rinsing yourselves off before getting out and toweling yourselves dry.  Nana sits as you brush her hair like Rapunzel, blow drying it slowly as you meticulously work your way through her golden mane.  It isn’t easy to find a comfortable set of clothes for her to wear, but with a pair of rolled pant legs and a hair-tied shirt, you’re able to make do.  Together, you eagerly order delivery from your favorite chicken restaurant, and while you’re waiting, begin the process of cleaning up.

Nana helps you strip your sheets, the most traumatized victims of your shared endeavors, off your bed, then assists you in wrangling a new set onto the mattress.  Your heart glows with warmth at how right it feels to perform such a mundane household activity with her, even as the fitted sheet snaps up once again and nearly hits you in the face.  Nana’s laughter rings out first, but yours is close behind, warding off any frustration as you enjoy the little simplicities of spending time with her.  You both clean up your kitchen, sending your soaked clothes to join your laundry as hers go into the wash, cleansing them of the rain’s influence as you both settle on the couch.

“I think that’s everything we needed to take care of,” you say, just as a thought crosses your mind.  “Do we need to get you some—”

“Don’t worry, I’ve been taking precautions for a bit.  You know, just in case,” Nana tells you, tone relaxed but eyes alight with mischief.

“You—what—just in case?!” you sputter.  “Since when?!”

“That night Wooyeon walked in on us,” Nana remarks casually.  “I wasn’t gonna let you kiss me like that without finishing the job.”

You’re frozen in silence, unsure whether to follow-up with confusion, accusations, questions, gratitude, or something else entirely, but the familiar cadence of the delivery man’s knocks on the door saves you from needing an answer.  After enjoying your meals and making some light conversation, you both end up on your insanely comfy couch, curled up together under your stupidly soft blanket as Nana selects another movie, this time opting for a cheesy romance flick that she swears is different from the rest.  Ultimately, she’s not wrong, as any experience shared with Nana ends up being far more enjoyable than the alternatives, and you end up enjoying yourself quite a bit.  You lay with her, laugh with her, and hold her close as you wipe away her tears.

Enthralled by Nana and her investment in the movie, you barely even notice as the hours pass, the clouds dissipate, and the sun shines bright for a fleeting flash before disappearing below the skyline.  It’s not until the movie finishes, fading to black for the final time, that you note the darkness that’s overtaken the world outside your little corner of paradise.  After confirming with her other members that she’s free tomorrow, Nana joins you getting ready for bed.

“Here, this has barely been used,” you tell her, handing her a toothbrush and smiling as a thought enters your mind.  “I guess I’ll just have to get you one of those too.”

“You just might have to,” Nana says, wide grin mirroring your own as you both begin your nightly routines.

A short while later, after locking up and killing all the lights, you join Nana in bed.  It’s an odd sensation as you turn off your alarm clock, something you haven’t done in months, maybe even years, but when you see the weary eyes Nana’s fighting to keep open, you decide it’s for the best.  You turn to her, exchanging good night’s and I love you’s before she closes in, kissing you tenderly before turning away and snuggling close against your body.  You two form a perfect fit as you hold her, refusing to let go even as sleep overtakes you.  Tonight, you have neither prayers nor requests, simply gratitude for the blessing in your arms.  Tonight, you dream of neither girl nor ghost, simply a warm silence that wraps itself around you in a familiar embrace.

tick…

tock…

For once, for the first time in a long, long while, your awakening is not sudden, but serene.  Your eyes slowly open, witnessing the twin golden glows that illuminate the tranquil space in their soft, mellow light.  You’re forced to squint slightly at the brightness of the rays of light filtering through the window, but even the rising sun pales in comparison to the radiance resting within your embrace.  Nana’s resting expression is one of bliss, subtle curves of a smile hidden at the edges of her lips even as she leisurely draws breath.

Somehow, sometime in the middle of the night, she seems to have interwoven your hand with hers, clutching it tightly against her breast as she lies dormant.  You can’t help but feel, in this moment, it seems almost too perfect to be a dream.  Like your mind wouldn’t even entertain this as achievable in a best-case scenario.  Yet here you are, blessed beyond imagination.

You get an idea, hoping to surprise her with breakfast.  You slowly, delicately attempt to remove your hand from hers, but are stopped suddenly as her grip tightens.  “Stopppp …”

“You’re awake?” you ask in surprise.

“Of course, since before you woke up,” Nana murmurs, pulling you closer.  “I just wanted you to hold me longer.”

“Nana, I …”  Your words trail off, your mind unable to even form words as you try to comprehend how you could possibly deserve something this perfect.  “Thank you … Are you hungry?  I was going to go make breakfast—”

“Breakfast can wait,” Nana interjects, flipping over to face you as she snuggles in even closer.  “Just stay with me, like this.  Please.”

This time, at least, you know exactly what to say.  “Of course, Nana.  Anything for you.”

She remains silent, but the pounding of her heart tells you everything you’d ever need to know.  You do as she asks, pulling the covers back over you as you wrap your arm around Nana, pulling her closer as you plant a gentle kiss atop her head.  Somewhere, deep in the back of your mind, you know that the clock ticks ever onwards.  But as you look down and see the little smile that only you seem to bring out of Nana, you realize there’s no better way to spend an eternity than moments like this with the one you love.  You’ll stay.  Forever, if she wants.  And with the way she clings to you, like you’re the only thing keeping her on Earth instead of up with the other angels, you trust that she’ll stay too.  Maybe even forever.

tick…

tock…

tick…

tock…

“So, is hugging a common thing with you?  Like, do you greet everyone you meet by trying to break their ribs?”

“Are you complaining about my hugs?!” Nana gasps, unwrapping her arms from around you and pulling away.

“No, absolutely not!” you exclaim, nearly tripping over your words as they leave your mouth at the speed of light.  “I’m just curious, okay?  It seems like a big thing with you.”

“Fine, I’ll answer your ridiculous question,” Nana says, retaking your arm.  “I occasionally give hugs to people I’m close to.  I often hug those I care about most.  I always hug you.”

“Oh,” you manage to say.  Your curiosity sated; you allow the comfortable silence to return.  As you two walk together, you marvel at the vibrant streets, delighted in the changing of the seasons as spring brings its warmth to what was a desolate Korean winter wasteland.

Unfortunately, a single dark shop stands out amongst the rows of brightly lit stores that litter both sides of the street.  Your destination, Aunt Kim’s noodle shop, seems empty.

“Oh no, it’s closed!  If only someone had an apartment nearby where we could spend the evening instead,” Nana announces dramatically, looking up at you and waggling her eyebrows shamelessly.

“If only,” you say, tugging her along.  “Let’s go see if she left a note saying when she’ll be back.”

“‘Closed this evening for a special occasion’,” Nana reads aloud.  “‘Will return to normal business tomorrow.’  That’s strange, I wonder what’s so important that she was willing to close the shop.”

“Strange indeed,” you agree, searching around in your pocket for a moment before pulling out a key.  “Wanna find out?”

Before she even has the chance to respond, you unlock the door, pushing it open and holding it for her as you invite her in.

“Give me a sec!” you call out, venturing into the darkness as she follows you inside.

“What?  How did you …” Nana trails off, covering her eyes as you flip the switch and restore light to the establishment.  Within, two steaming bowls wait upon a small table near the left corner of the store; upon “your” table, the one where you two have always sat over the past couple of months, the one with the edge broken off, the one that’s imperfect, but that’s okay, because nothing is.  Well, except Nana.

“No but really, what is going on?” Nana asks, walking as if in a daze as she joins you at the table.

“I wanted to do something nice for you for your birthday,” you explain, pulling out the chair for her.  “I thought it’d be nice to have the place to ourselves for once, and Aunt Kim was kind enough to agree.  She seemed more than willing to help out, probably because of our … ahem, ‘generous contributions’ to the store.”

“Ah, I see,” Nana chuckles, smiling brightly.  “Thank you, but you really didn’t have to do all this …”

“Maybe,” you admit with a shrug.  “But for you, I’d do anything.  This is the first time I’ve gotten to do something sweet for you, just let me spoil you for one night.”

“Alright, fine,” Nana says, huffing in mock exasperation.  “Then let’s eat!”

You both eagerly dig in, savoring the familiar tastes of your favorite meals.  Unsurprisingly, even as the flavors dance along your tastebuds, the sight of Nana in front of you is all that matters.  Even with her golden color replaced by a dark chocolate brown, her radiant visage shines under the warm amber glow of the Edison bulbs above.  You lose yourself in the sight of her, food long forgotten until her voice brings you back to reality.

“This is soooooooooo good, did you make this?”

“Oh, gods no,” you exclaim, earning a laugh from each of you.  “Aunt Kim was kind enough to make it just before we arrived.”

“Okay good,” Nana replies, wry smirk locked and loaded as she continues to fire shots.  “I don’t think I would have ever been able to forgive you if you brought me here just to subject me to your cooking.”

“Oh, come on,” you say, rolling your eyes and turning away to hide the smile you can’t contain.  “You know you love me.”

“Obviously.”

That single word has no right to hit as hard as it does, but you can’t help but whip back around to face her.  You pause, allowing the smile to slip as your voice drops.  “I love you.”

“Believe it or not, even more obvious,” she responds, still attempting to hide behind levity.  But you see it in the faint glimmer of her eyes, in the way her lips part slightly, in the way she leans in just the slightest bit closer.

You don’t have to move far to close the distance, leaning in and gently pressing your lips against hers.  The combination of the dishes’ flavors explodes across your senses, adding a new type of spice to one of your favorite activities.  Even more than usual, it drives you crazy, amplifying your hunger as you greedily up the intensity, wrapping your hand around the back of her neck and—

“Honestly, at this point, I’m not even surprised.”

Nana immediately breaks away from the kiss, turning to see Wooyeon walking in, a box in one hand and her forehead in the other.

“Seriously, we just keep having the worst timing,” you say, laughing warmly as you stand to greet her.  “Thanks again for picking this up, I really appreciate it.”

“You’re very welcome,” Wooyeon responds, taking a seat next to Nana.  “Your place is nice by the way.”

“Wait, you’re telling me Wooyeon got a key to your place before I did?” Nana asks indignantly.  “Unbelievable, really.”

Your laughter follows you as you retreat to the kitchen, where you grab Wooyeon’s meal and return to the table.  “That is a good point, I should be careful who I give those out to.”

“Indeed,” Wooyeon says, smirking sinisterly.  “I might just invite myself in some time.”

“Alright alright, enough,” Nana declares as you burst into a quiet fit of laughter.  “Please, can we try to have a normal dinner?  It’d be nice to have an interaction between my two closest friends that isn’t awkward or cut short for once.”

The two of you agree and all three of you dive back into your dinners, casually conversing about your days, how good the food is, and basically anything at all.  You happily join in, enjoying the chance to get to know Wooyeon better and seeing a new side of Nana that only her friend and fellow idol can bring out.  A month ago, you never could have imagined seamlessly going from conversations about your work to stories about their backstage adventures to what movies they’d watched recently.  Yet, on this especially significant day, you’re happy to join Nana at the intersection between her personal and professional life.  You’re happy to make a joke and be blessed by the harmonization of Nana and Wooyeon laughing together.  It’s musical, it’s magical, it’s meant to be.

“Now, will you tell me what’s in the box?” Nana eventually asks.

Wooyeon looks to you for confirmation, then reaches down and opens it, revealing an overly frosted, downright cartoonish-looking piece of cake that looks like it was taken right out of a Kirby game.

“Oh my god it’s perfect!” Nana exclaims, eagerly grabbing for her phone as you take a finger and run it through the icing.  “Hey!  I was gonna take a picture of that!!”

A devious smile creeps across your face as you lean forward, booping Nana on the nose and getting frosting everywhere.  “HEY!”

You immediately lean away, desperately attempting her wild assault as Nana attempts to return the favor.  Within a minute, you’re out of breath from laughing so hard, and from the corner of your eye you can see Wooyeon not faring much better.  Nana catches you, of course, and you’re forced to suffer the consequences of your actions as bits of frosting are smeared all across your face.

Eventually, the commotion settles and you’re all able to enjoy the piece in peace, savoring the wonderful flavors as you share it together.  Well after the sun sets, well after the streets outside go dark and the clock ticks past the shop’s normal closing time, the three of you remain, sharing stories, telling tales, and enjoying each other’s company.  As always, a small part of you rues the passage of time, knowing that this too must come to an end.  But for as long as you possibly can, you preserve this moment, refusing to take it for granted as you treasure the memory being made.  Because you know that you’ll remember this night for the rest of your life.  Because nights like this make you realize you’ve been gifted everything you could have ever wished for.

(My sincerest gratitude to @braaan and @majorblinks for reviewing this fic, I can’t thank you enough for how much your insights improved it and how much your love & support meant to me.  This fic is dedicated to @capslocked, a known believer, and @okaylikesmomo, the newest member of the cult.  I hope you enjoyed reading this story about hugs that happened to feature smut; the next story idea I intend to finish features far more snark and smut, with no hugs in sight.  Anticipate it at your own risk.)

[bedoballoons]

Lyney, Lynette, and Wrio when their sweet Fontanian SO takes a splash of primordial sea water intended for them?

Ahhh this is so sad and yet so romantic and sweet at the same time. I hope you enjoy and thank you so much for your request, sorry it took so long to write!

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ🍂𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ🍂

{༻~Splish splash~༺}

CW: Angsty! Reader gets turned to water to save the character! Characters reactions included with no comfort :(

(Includes: Lyney, Lynette, and Wriothesley!)

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𑁍༄Lyney:

Lyney was powerless, all he could do was sit there and stare at you with pure terror in his eyes, how could you...the love of his life who deserved to live far more than he felt he did... take his splash of death? Of all the ways the battle could have ended, he never assumed he'd be loosing you and to watch...as your body dissolved before his very eyes...he'd never felt such a numb feeling in his entire life. Even with all the things he'd experienced...none of them ever left him gasping for air and panicking with no end in sight.

"Why...why....WHY WOULD YOU D-DO THIS?!"

His hat fell to the floor as he screamed, raw emotions escaping him in that moment that if anyone heard...could feel his pain.

𑁍༄Lynette:

Lynette couldn't breath...she was trapped in slow motion with her eyes trained on the Primordial seawater that was intended to end her life, even if she tried to get away...even if the water didn't drench her...the smallest drop could leave her nothing but a puddle. It was like she mentally prepared for that ending, emotionless as the glittering water flew towards her...if only she'd been prepared for you to step in..

You stepped in front of her with barely a millisecond to spare, your eyes meeting as the water splashed against your back...all you could do was give her a reassuring smile as you as you fell to the ground...dissolving with almost no trace.

She fell to her knees, unable to form a single thought, unable to stop the tears that rolled down her otherwise emotionless features. She was in such a state of shock...that her skin had gone white, "N-no...no. N-n-no. It was s-supposed to be me. I-i could have handled it b-being me...no...not you."

𑁍༄Wriothesley:

Wriothesley knew his life was dangerous, he worked in a prison that was located entirely underwater and filled to the brim with dangerous criminals, not to mention that the building itself was storing a large amount of primordial seawater that could turn him into nothing but water in seconds, but none of that really mattered anymore. He got used to the idea he could go at any moment, he just used that to his advantage, living every day to the fullest. Especially when it came to you.

That's why when the primordial seawater was thrown at him, he was ready to accept fate, yes he's feel bad for leaving you...but as long as you made it out alive he considered it the best outcome. If only you had just followed his plan...

"No! What are you-"

He tried, but it was to late. You'd already been consumed by the water and in seconds you were gone along with it, he didn't even know why. Why would you save him? Something in him snapped, wether it be his heart or sanity...he didn't care, he didn't care if he made it out alive or dead. None of it even mattered, his life was now suddenly without purpose...he was empty inside.

"Why..."

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ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚~Have a nice day~*⁠.⁠✧

[pyrodolls]

yandere mk1 men x compliant! reader

warnings: kidnapping, mentions of violence and murder, stockholm syndrome, all men are yandere and ooc, implied afab reader in johnny's, implied nsfw in bi-han's, mentions of an anxiety attack in zeffeero's, tomas is a masochist, gender neutral reader, reader doesn't care that they were kidnapped

summary: the mk1 men (johnny cage, bi han, kuai liang, zeffeero, tomas vrbada) are yandere, and they just kidnapped you. but you seem to not care...

a/n: sorry again for my late updates😭 anyways i was reading a yandere fic and i was like 'i would just give up and accept my fate if a yandere kidnapped me.' so here's some hcs based on that lil thought LMAOO

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johnny cage would be ECSTATIC when he notices how compliant you are. thank god he didn't have to force you to accept your new life, that would've been ugly. now, he can live out his fantasy of a perfect life with you! and don't worry about your needs such as food and water, he's got the money to take care of that. besides, now you're with THE johnny cage! other people would sell their soul to be in your spot. you're grateful for your new life, right? you have to now, because johnny is so excited to start a family with you very soon, whether you like it or not.

bi-han wouldn't be surprised that you submitted to him so easily. it was a wise choice to be obedient. if you didn't, bi-han would have to punish you. and we wouldn't want that, would we? obviously, bi-han's always had the power and resources to make sure you never escape in the first place, but since you're just so calm and compliant, he doesn't have to stress about that anymore. but that doesn't mean he's entirely trusting of you yet. he would still keep his guard up for the first few months of your capture, just in case you were deceiving him with your willingness. but overall, bi-han is glad that you are so compliant. he brings you outside every now and then as a reward for your obedience. who knows, maybe if you keep up your good behavior, he'll reward you even more.

kuai liang was not excited to take you in. he knew you'd probably resist him, but it's for the best! please don't kick and scream at him, he's doing this because he loves you. he's keeping you safe, there's a lot of bad people out there that could hurt you and he can protect you from them. as soon as you noticed you were in an unknown place, he braced for an argument of some sorts, until you casually addressed him and asked where you were. kuai liang explained your situation and told you that he was doing it because he loves you so much, and you'll understand someday. surprisingly, you simply nodded and shrugged, accepting your situation and deciding not to defy scorpion himself. he was relieved that you didn't have any qualms with your new life, especially after he put so much effort into mending your new living space to your liking. he worked very hard to provide you with enough of your necessities to make you never want to leave.

zeffeero is confused at how cooperative you are. he had an entire anxiety attack before he committed the act, berating himself for doing such an atrocious thing. he would've hated for you to despise him, even though he would've understood why. fortunately, his anxieties were put to rest as soon as he saw how casually you handled the situation. even though it left him wondering if you were as mentally sane as he thought you were. but that doesn't matter, because now zeffeero doesn't have to hold back on his affections. he took your compliance as a sign that you are okay with his twisted way of loving you. now, your life within those walls is a lot more suffocating than you thought it would be.

tomas vrbada had mixed feelings about the situation. if you woke up in an unknown place, surely you'd be pissed at him. so you would probably cuss him out, or even fight him physically. tomas doesn't want to hurt you, but at the same time, he would relish in your hatred for him. for some reason, tomas would get a strange high out of your assertion and he'd feel very flustered if you were ever aggressive towards him. you could yell at him for the smallest thing, and he'd just stare at you with adoration as if he was in a trance. even though he would love for you to yell and scream at him, he would ultimately prefer for you to be happy with him and your new life. tomas desperately wants to have a normal-ish relationship with you, so it would be best if you were compliant with him. thankfully, you ended up quite cooperative with tomas, and easily adjusted to your new life. it made him so happy that you accepted him, that he spoiled you with everything you could ever want. tomas is at your beck and call, and he will do anything to make you happy. except free you.

[strawbeerossi]

The Party Trick

18+ Content. Minors DNI

Pairing: fem!reader x Spencer Reid

Description: After seeing a tutorial on how to pick a lock on handcuffs, reader decides to put it to the test to have a new party trick to show the others at the BAU. After doing it a few times with each hand, she gets bold and cuffs both wrists, leaving her trapped, until Spencer comes over and things get interesting.

Content Warning: Coarse language, panic, fear of embarrassment, restraints, Spencer laughs and teases reader, sub Spencer, Dom reader, mean reader, humiliation fetish, praising, degradation, orgasm denial, oral (m receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex.

Word Count: 3.2K

Y'all, I'm nervous as fuck to post this lmao. This has been in the drafts for a while. I'm not the best with smut because I haven't written it in a while. This is your warning. Read at your own risk.

Part two

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“This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done.” Y/N spoke aloud to herself, an agitated huff leaving her lips.

An hour ago, she’d been watching some random YouTube videos, just mainly to pass the time. There was all sorts of dumb shit she watched, although when she came across a video or a man showing how to pick the locks of a handcuff with a bobby pin, it captured her interest. It seemed simple enough, cuff one hand to something beside you then use the bobby pin to pick the keyhole and free yourself.

She had way too much fun as she figured out exactly how to do it, starting with handcuffing herself to the handle on the nightstand. It took about five minutes to get herself free, the woman switching wrists eventually and getting herself freed with more practice.

Then she got cocky. All she could picture was using this as a party trick, having someone handcuff her hands behind her back while she used the pin that she could hide in the palm of her hand to escape. Then everyone would be astonished and impressed. So, she was determined to make that dream a reality.

It all happened so fast. She had the pin in the palm of her right hand, securely held as she used her left to cuff right wrist. In an attempt to close it with her hand still clamped around the pin, she did her best to lock the cuffs around her left wrist. However, in the act of finding a way to lock it, the pin slipped from yer grasp just as she had her wrists cuffed behind her back. 

“Fuck!” She cursed, panic setting in from being trapped without anyone to help her. So, in an awkward attempt to lean down to grab the only thing that could free her, she was bending in all sorts of positions to try and secure the hairpin that was laying on the floor, almost taunting her. Well, now she’d be stuck in her apartment until someone figured out she was missing. Then she’d more than likely have a whole team of people to bust down her door and then laugh at her.

This was the opposite that she wanted. Now she’d be the talk of the team for trapping herself in handcuffs while trying some stupid attempt to free herself. She could already hear all the shit Derek would tease her with now.

“The amazing Y/N, going to show us the special trick that not all fbi agents should be trusted with handcuffs!”

“You know, you shouldn’t play with the tools we are given for the field.”

Derek fucking Morgan.

There was a sigh of defeat as Y/N was accepting her fate of being known for the idiot on the team who gets herself trapped.

However, she was pulled out of her thoughts when she could hear a knock against her apartment door. Thank God! Hopefully it was a family member or something. They’d understand that she did dumb things sometimes and would let her live it down more than her coworkers would.

While hurrying and running from her room like a criminal trying to escape capture with the cool metal of the handcuffs stabbing into their flesh, she was stopping at the front door. “Hold on!” She called, turning around first to try and reach the lock so she could unlock the door. However, when it wasn’t working out, she was huffing from irritation and turning around. She ended up having to use her mouth to unlock the top lock, same with the bottom.

“You’ll have to open the door!” She called, taking a few steps back. However, her heart dropped when she seen who was on the other side of the door. The only reason she was alerted of his presence early was from the way he was asking if she was alright. The moment that Spencer Reid came into view, Y/N face was bright red from embarrassment.

“Not a word of this to the team!” Her voice came out in a squeak, making the genius snort out a laugh as he walked around the woman after closing the door behind him. “How did you even manage to trap yourself?” He asked, not giving her time to answer.

“Y/N Houdini.” He snickered as he was stopping and bringing his hands to run over the metal of the cuffs restraining her arms behind her back. “Is this gonna be your debut into escapism magic? Cause I think you have to actually know how to escape to put on a show.” He continued on.

The words had Y/N’s face growing hotter from the teasing, a huff leaving her lips. “Get your laughs out. Come on.” She demanded while turning around soon after. “Piss me off and I’ll cuff you to your desk at the office and swallow the key.” Of course, all talk and no action from a woman who essentially trapped herself.

“Are you kidding?! I wouldn’t let you. Besides, I’ve seen enough of escapism magic to know how to escape.. Without losing the thing that will grant me freedom.” He commented while grabbing ahold of the cuffs while he chuckled. "Show me where the key is." He spoke, his tone level as the humor of the situation was losing it's power over him.

It wasn't fully lost on him though. In fact, he'd never let her live it down. "You know, the others would've probably forgot about this at some point.." He trailed off, looking around the walls decorated with tapestries, pictures, and some other miscellaneous wall decor. "I, however, will not." He smirked.

Stupid fucking eidetic memory.

"Ha ha. You're hilarious."

"I think you take the cake for being hilarious. Everyone is gonna love this story. I'm sure that even Hotch will get a laugh out of it."

"I hate you."

In reality, it was.. Kinda funny. The thought of seeing someone else on the team in the position she was currently in was enough to make her snort out a laugh of her own. "I'm a fucking idiot, huh?"

The words made Spencer wave her off. "Definitely not a genius but.. Maybe a little smarter than Morgan." His tone was teasing as he was grabbing the small box she showed him that contained the key to the cuffs suspending her.

His first mistake was freeing her, mainly because there was a form of blind trust after being the one to free him.

The minute that Spencer had those cuffs off and was handing her the metallic restraints and turned his back to her, she as using the opportunity to catch him off guard, the male's eyes widening the moment he felt the cold metal against his skin.

"Y/N! What the hell??"

Now it was her turn to laugh, her hands coming up to rest against her mouth. "Now who's the genius, Reid?" She taunted, all in good fun.

Spencer's face was red, eyes on the ground while he had to take in a breath. His body was tense, feeling powerless in the time being.

He was also incredibly turned on by the idea of doing whatever he needed to in order to get out of the cuffs.

The silence grew heavy, tension filling the air. "Oh, come on. Don't be mad at me, Spence. It's all in good fun!" She said while heading over to grab his upper arms. "You are so red," She pouted, her hands cupping the hot skin of his face as he was staring down at the woman, looking as submissive as ever.

That did something to her, a blush creeping up on her face as sinful thoughts began to plague her mind. The thought of leaving a whimpering, sticky mess. The way he'd definitely be the type to beg her for more while she was seated pretty on his lap, doing something like read a book while just being full.

The thoughts had her thighs tightly clenching, arousal surely coating her panties enough to make a wet spot.

Unable to help herself, it wasn't long until the tie around his neck was in her hand, pulling the man down to clash their lips together. The action had Spencer squeaking, although his lips were desperately slotting with hers in a messy kiss. He needed it. He needed her.

It wasn't abnormal for Spencer to have such thoughts, his coworker being on his mind since the moment she joined the team. How could he not be fond of her? She was beautiful, intelligent, plus she was probably the only person who would actually sit and listen to his ramblings whenever something came up.

She was perfect in every way really, however, he knew that there was a long list of things preventing a relationship within the team. Last thing he wanted was for himself or Y/N to be transferred to a different branch.

However his thoughts weren’t particularly on that right now, his body falling back against the plush mattress from a push, not even having time to register what was happening before the woman was straddling his waist. Her hands were on either side of his face, her lips pressing back against his in a more rough, needy kiss.

Spencer's wrists were fighting the cuffs, a huff being muffled against Y/N's lips as he realized that he was being denied the right to touch her, to let his hands caress her smooth skin. His heart was beating against his chest, almost as if it were dying to be released.

All of his thoughts were eventually going out the door the minute he felt the feeling of delicate fingers in his hair. However instead of savoring the feeling of her fingers threading through the messy head of curls, his mouth was agape as soon as her hand was roughly pulling Spencer's hair back.

"I'm gonna fuck you stupid, Dr. Reid."

Oh.

The words were enough to make a moan rip from Spencer’s throat, eyes trained up on the woman who was propping herself up on her knees in order to look down at the man. 

“Cat got your tongue, doctor?” Y/N taunted while she was looking down at the man with a soft smirk. She didn’t even have to touch him and he was already putty in her hands. The way his eyes were trained on her, looking like a puppy begging for more. “‘Cause you were very vocal earlier when you had so much to say.” She mused.

“I-I” The woman was bringing her hands to Spencer’s shoulders, her hips rocking against his while awaiting an answer.

“I’m waiting.” 

“I-I.. Fuck. I don’t have anything to s-say.” He stuttered, bucking his hips to try and relieve the pressure from his cock that was already standing at attention. “Who would’ve thought Spencer Reid would be quiet when someone is trying to talk to him? You don’t have any facts? Statistics?” She continued dragging on, nudging Spencer’s body back in order to have him lay down in the middle of the queen sized bed. 

“Give me a statistic about..” She was looking around her bedroom while sliding down Spencer’s legs. “Ooh! A statistic about dominant and submissive dynamics..” She dragged out the word ‘submissive’ as her hands were slowly moving to unbutton his pants. His head was spinning, brain mush.

“A study showed that,” He paused as her fingers were quickly tugging down the zipper before her hands were pulling the slacks down his legs. “I didn’t tell you to stop.” She commented, her eyebrow raising as her movements came to a halt. “T-that 51% of men and 39-” His eyes were fluttering shut the minute he felt her mouth now ghosting over his hard cock in his underwear, her tongue licking over the wet spot of his boxers.

“39% of women are attracted to the idea of having a d-dominant or submissive partner..” He stuttered out, now lifting his hips in hopes of feeling those delicate fingers in the waistband of his boxers. Which, his wish was granted. “That’s really interesting, isn’t it? Good job, baby.” She hummed.

As his cock was revealed to her, she was grinning. His tip was red, beads of pre-cum rolling down his angry, desperate cock. “So pretty!” She praised, laying on her stomach between his legs as her hand was wrapping around the thick base of his cock, thumb swiping over the sensitive tip to smear the mess around.”Who knew Dr. Reid was hiding this? Always the shy and smart ones, huh?” She commented, pressing a kiss to the tip of his cock.

Spencer could hear her talking, however he wasn’t responding. His brain was clouded, head falling back against the pillow that rested behind his head. “F-fuck.” He hissed, her tongue now running over the underside of the genius’ cock, cleaning up the mess that she’d already caused. 

Her hands came out to rest firmly against his hips, holding him down from bucking like he so desperately tried to do. “P-please..” He let out a slow breath as his eyes were fluttering shut. His voice was shaking, tone laced with need and more desperation than she could’ve expected.

She smiled while licking over his cock one more time before granting him yet another desperate plea that fell from his lips in the form of a whimper. As her lips closed around his cock, she let her eyes flutter shut. Her tongue was flat, her head beginning to move in a slow motion. She was hollowing her cheeks while bobbing her head, her own moans vibrating around his already desperate cock. As she let her grip tighten on his hips, her eyes were opening to peak up at him through her eyelashes.

His curls were disheveled, his head thrown back as his chest was rapidly rising and falling. The strangled sounds of whimpers and pleads for more falling from his lips. It was a beautiful sight, she knew that much. 

Spencer wasn’t the only one wildly turned on, Y/N’s panties being absolutely drenched at this point. From her position, she could rock her hips against the mattress, just wanting to relieve the pressure in her clit as she could practically feel her heartbeat in the bundle of nerves. She was growing desperate herself, needing to feel his cock inside her, stretching her out with the delicious burn that came with it.

She was pulled from her thoughts when she could feel the twitch of his cock, indicating he was close. That was her cue to pull off with a loud ‘pop’ echoing through the room along with a small whine falling from Spencer's lips. That whine was enough to make her clench around nothing.

“Shush.” She breathed while wiping the spit from her jaw with her thumb, a breathless laugh leaving her lips as she was eventually standing, enough to shimmy her pants and panties down her legs to reveal her glistening cunt. Spencer’s eyes were trailing slowly up her now bare legs, eyes coming to her pussy while his mouth was open, pupils blown out from lust. “Please let me touch you. Wanna- Fuck- Wanna be able to-” He was cut off by her lips, the two sharing a chaste kiss before her teeth were sinking into his lower lip, giving it a playful tug before letting it go. 

“Not this time.” She spoke softly, her lips kissing him once more before she was crawling over him again, her hands running over his clothed chest while moving between them.

As soon as she had his cock in her hands, all sense of reason went out the window. To be fair, neither of them were really thinking of a condom right now. 

After teasing herself by tapping his tip against her clit, she sucked in a breath. “Fuck, Spencer.” She whispered, eventually sinking down his base. Her head was lolling forward, her mouth agape as she was sinking fully, their pelvises now flush against one another’s. “Holy fuck.”

Spencer on the other hand had to think of anything other than cumming inside of her before she even got a chance to even ride him. However, he felt like she’d ultimately end up overstimulating him in that scenario. He didn’t want that now though. No, he’d rather wait until he didn’t have fucking metal preventing him from gripping onto her hips, letting him fuck up into her rather than be forced to watch her have every ounce of control and power. Even though he had to admit, he could get used to this. 

As her velvety walls were clenching around his cock, she was leaning forward slightly as her hips were rolling against his, her head falling forward as she cried out softly. With the length that Spencer had, the right angle would have his tip pushing perfectly against the spongy spot deep inside her that was making her see stars already. 

“F-fuck. You f-feel amazing.” It was Spencer's turn to talk, watching the way her tits were bouncing with every movement, even with a clothed torso, she had the man below salivating at the thought of what lay below that blue cardigan. “You take m-my cock so well.” Even through the grunts and groans, there was still a hint of him being unsure. This wasn’t really something he did often, so here we was, doing something he’d seen once or twice in the few pornos he’d consumed at some point. “Ah! Fuck, Reid. I’m gonna cum. Fuck, you- ugh.” Y/N breathed, continued her motions  while doing her best to quicken her pace, even though her bounces were growing a bit sloppy, her legs getting tired. 

With the grip of his tie and a loud cry of his name, it wasn’t long until she was creaming on his cock, a thin veil of sweat on her face as she was continuing her movements. “Fuck. You gonna cum, Reid? Wanna fill me up? She spoke, the words sending electricity through the man’s body as his cock was twitching once more.

He’d done his best to thrust his hips upward, a low groan leaving his lips as he only needed a few more movements before his vision went white.

Y/N was a whimpering mess, feeling the warm gush of cum that Spencer was coating her inner walls with, the woman’s upper body gently falling forward as her eyes flutter shut. 

They laid there for a while, the woman clutching tightly onto her close friend while trying to catch her breath. “Remind me to carry around those handcuffs more often.” She spoke, a light laugh leaving her lips as she was lifting her hips and moving off of him soon after.

“Maybe don’t get yourself trapped next time..” Spencer chuckled, now looking over at the woman as she was sitting him up, finally using the key to free his wrists from their restraints. “Feel like you owe me now..” He began, the woman laughing as she placed the cuffs on her bedside table. 

“Spencer Reid, are you really asking me for round two right now?” She asked, making the man give a cheeky smile.

“Maybe if you’re the one in the handcuffs this time.”