#this was. SUPPOSED to be half of a valentines piece.

[torchickentacos]

SUPRISE ART DROP! May you enjoy this May.

[shanastoryteller]

happy valentine’s day! could i get something pjo or hades?

a continuation of 1

Sally doesn't understand. "But where's my son?"

His face crumples before smoothing back out.

"Not that you're not my son!" she says hurriedly. Gods, he's going to grow up to look so much like his father. He's going to grow up powerful, which is something Poseidon had warned her about and she thought she'd taken it seriously, but now her almost adult son is in front of her and there's a presence to him that she'd clocked as his father's just as much as his hair and the breadth of his shoulders. "But. My son. When you go back to the future, he'll come back, right?"

"Mom," he starts, then presses his lips together. "I don't know."

She slowly lowers herself onto Percy's bed. Onto her Percy's bed. "Where is he now?"

"If he's still here, he's probably in the underworld," he says.

If. If. Her eyes burn. She'd just been wishing that Percy wasn't seven anymore, but she hadn't meant this.

"I have to go," he says, clearly trying to speak gently to her. "I'll try and find out, okay? I'll send you an Iris message."

"But," she starts, looking up at him. What's she supposed to do? Her son's gone. Her son's right in front of her, but he's leaving too.

He leans down, pressing a kiss to her forehead like he's the parent. "I'm sorry, Mom. I'm really sorry."

~

Percy thinks he might have killed himself.

He tries not to think about it as he dive into the Atlantic, the water surging over and around him as it propel him exactly where he wants to go.

This is a mission that he's not going to survive. He'd known that from the beginning. Persephone had warned him that his life would be forfeit before he'd done it.

He should have listened. He should have taken a single second to think it through before he'd accepted, even if he would have done it anyway, even if it felt like the only option left.

When he'd sat across from Persephone, her clothes black with mourning and a crown she didn't want on her head, he'd already been dead. So it couldn't be his life that was the cost. It had already been paid.

Now his mom is going to have to mourn him twice over. Maybe even three times over, when he dies here too. He's such a terrible kid. She deserves better. Estelle wouldn't do this to her.

Why the hell had she had a kid with a god? They all die young.

He sneaks through the patrol of Atlantis with ease. He knows the schedules and the patterns and nothing is really meant to keep him out anyway.

The armory, the most guarded part of the kingdom, opens at his first touch.

He's a loyal son of Poseidon. Nothing here is forbidden to him.

Granted, that's because they don't know to ward against him specifically, because he's supposed to be ignorant and seven and demigod children don't typically just go strolling into their parents domain.

Riptide is currently with Charon and ironically he'd have a much harder time stealing from him than his father. He walks the length of the armory, eyeing the tridents but moving on. If he wants to keep his parentage a secret, then that's definitely not the way to go.

He goes through about a dozen swords before finding one that feels loose and easy in his hands. It's a bit flashier than Riptide, emeralds along the hilt and interlocking silver patter worked in alongside the bronze.

Paper doesn't do so well underwater, so he scrapes in an IOU into the place the sword had been. Someone's going to notice it missing pretty quickly either way. His dad if he's lucky, Triton if he isn't, but he doesn't have the time to worry about it.

There are three kids out there who are going to need some help getting to Camp Half-Blood in one piece.

[meowkunas]

worth the wait

for jjk valentine's day 2024

summary: you're all dressed up for yuki's return from her business trip. too bad she's going to leave you wanting and needy for a little bit longer.

word count: 3.5k+

warnings: NSFW content (under the cut!), reader wears lingerie, fem! reader, teasing, eating you out, tribadism/scissoring, fingering (a little), body worship, calls you needy, sweet thing and princess

The image shows up sent, but undelivered yet again. There’s a thread of three images: a close-up shot of all the little details on your two piece lingerie, a mirror selfie, and then a shot of your hand artfully placed over your bare stomach as you lay down. 

Yuki’s flight was supposed to land three hours ago. From there it’s a 45-minute cab ride to your shared apartment. You had still been waiting patiently in bed during hour one, knowing that delays were inevitable, but by the second hour, your frustration had kicked in and you’d decided to anxiously pace instead. She’d promised to be home on time for a quiet night with you, but there’s only so much power she has over these kinds of circumstances. 

That doesn’t mean you can’t be annoyed about it. 

With a huff, you sink down onto the couch, arms crossed. At least if she saw the message you wouldn’t feel so upset. You’re just about to call it a day and pull on a big t-shirt to get comfy, maybe make dinner for one, when the front door shakes slightly. Quickly following the noise was a jingle of keys falling onto the floor. 

“Shit.” 

It’s Yuki’s voice. A brief flicker of joy churns in your chest, before you remember her lack of response and the annoyance settles back in. Even so you find yourself practically bouncing over to open the door for her, forgetting about your current state of dress. The frustrated look on your face fades into a smile as you see her. She looks weary, but she still manages to shoot you a winning smile. 

“Hey. Look at you.” Her voice drops to a purr as her eyes slowly travel up your bare legs, to the panties that barely cover you, and landing finally on the lacey bra that’s showing a lot more than it covers. 

In just one devouring look, you’ve forgotten about your earlier annoyance of her being late. Instead a blush burns on your cheeks. Yuki doesn’t even show any sign of being surprised, even though she hadn’t seen the messages. The messages! She catches on to your facial expression as the thought crosses your mind. 

“Sorry.” She says apologetically. “My phone got absolutely destroyed in a fight, so I couldn’t text you at all.” 

A dramatic groan exits her throat. It all happens quickly – her rough kick at her carry-on bag to send it into the apartment, one hand holding onto your waist to push you stumbling backwards as she pushes the front door closed behind her and buries her face into the crook of your neck. 

“Did you get all dressed up for me? Hope you took some pretty photos of it before it gets all dirty and ruined by you.” She kisses your ear. With both hands holding onto your waist, she’s half-pushing, half-carrying you until you’re back in the bedroom where you had been waiting your evening away. 

The reminder of it makes you furrow your eyebrows together. “I was in the right mood before…” You let your sentence trail off, squirming under her scrutinising gaze. 

It doesn’t phase her in the slightest. “Want some help warming up?”

That smile of hers is very difficult to say no to. 

Yuki likes to take her time. 

Even with exhaustion written all over her features, she seems determined to tease you incessantly. It starts with wandering hands, and an intense furrow between her brows as she takes in the way your skin bends and complies to her squeezes. It’s almost as though she’s searing this–you–into her memory. She kneels between your legs, keeping them spread apart in a firm hold that makes you whimper at how easily she moves you around. 

She pulls you down to kiss you tenderly, mouth barely brushing against yours. All you can feel is the plushness of her mouth and her warm breath as she teases you.  It’s you that has to chase after her lips and she laughs as you do so, just staying out of reach. 

“Needy little thing. I thought I taught you better than this.” Yuki’s fingers tighten their hold around your spread thighs. She leaves a string of kisses across your cheek instead, giving your skin tiny licks as she does so. You’re so sure she mumbles an apology at one point, but she quickly follows it up with her hands pinching at your still-covered nipple. She’s not obviously teasing, but it’s enough to make you restless. 

Her hands move so slowly, latching onto every patch of bare skin with renewed enthusiasm. She’s not satisfied until she hears any sound come out of your mouth at her touching, and then she’ll move on to the next location. There’s no surprises. All her movements are easy to follow, one after the other: her fingers grazing over your waist until you giggle, a breath of throaty laughter in your ear as you squirm at her digging her knuckles into your shoulders, her hands splayed over the top of your thighs… and then the movement of her hands running up your whole body to do it all over again. 

Finally, she unclasps the top piece of your lingerie, letting it fall partway down your front before she envelops one of your nipples into her warm mouth. A kiss for the other one. It sends a lightning throb of pleasure through your chest. A kiss in the centre of your chest. Every breath feels shorter than the next. You haven’t even realised that your arms are tensed by your sides, holding you up so that you’re still sitting. Yuki squishes your sides and your tummy again, forcing a giggle from your throat that fades into a moan when she drags a finger up your clothed slit. 

“Aww, sweet thing.” The end of her words is accompanied by a well-timed nibble on your shoulder. “If I could, I’d just touch you like this for the next few hours. But you already look all needy.” Her fingers are back to running over your bare skin instead of where you’re starting to feel an ache for her. Your cheeks are flushed and your eyes are already blown. With the lingerie top hanging off you, you’re the very picture of debauchery. Just the way Yuki likes you. “C’mon then.” 

One piece of clothing finally comes sliding off, leaving you in just your panties. She kneels down carelessly in front of you, her hands greedily gripping onto your hips as she blows warm air towards your aching core. She kisses your covered clit with a messy and loud ‘mwah’ that has you trying to close your legs, although you’re not sure whether it’s out of embarrassment or pleasure. But she doesn’t let you. In a motion that seems effortless, she hooks your legs over her shoulders, locking you into place. 

“Stay still, princess. And I promise I’ll give you a good reward for it, okay?” Yuki sends you a wink which has you squirming in protest. 

Before you can voice your distress, she’s touching your heat with her pretty fingers, pulling your panties to the side and teasing your hole open. And she knows just how to do it right as well; knows exactly where to press down on your inner thighs with her other hand to have you aching for just a little more pleasure. It’s so slow, the way she traces your hole with two of her fingers, occasionally flicking up towards your sensitive bud. 

“Mmh… Yuki!” To your dismay, your voice stutters through your uneven breathing as she touches you. 

“Here?” Yuki murmurs, turning her head to nibble your thigh and giving the bare patch of skin a kitten lick. “You’re all shaky. Don’t go shy on me now. You were so upset when I came back late. Aren’t you going to tell me off?”  

You don’t want to. You don’t even remember that she came back late, too busy focused on her fingers, too busy wanting her mouth– 

Yuki pauses, grinning between your legs. “Easy. Tell me off and don’t hold back about it.” This isn’t fair. 

You let out a frustrated sound, inching towards the edge of the bed to be closer to her face. She follows your movements, pulling back slightly. 

“You should have taken better care of your phone–” A gasp leaves your lips as she sucks your clit into her mouth gently. How the hell does she want you to tell her off when she’s so determined to please you? “Should’ve gotten a new– ahh– one…” 

“That’s the best you can do?” She’s speaking directly into your heat. It feels hot. Her tongue dives inside, and you lose your mind. A swath of pleasure courses through your veins and your hips jerk uncontrollably into her warm mouth. Good thing she’s got such a good grip on you. It’s so wet, and it sounds so sloppy, the way that her mouth sucks and the way her tongue curls into you. It’s not enough to hit that spot, but it’s enough for you to jerk forward, a hand twining through her hair desperately. 

A low whine leaves your lips. She continues her action, squeezing your thighs every time they clench. You’re not even sure how she’s still managing to keep your legs spread apart from how tightly you’re trying to curl them around her head, but she seems to be enjoying it. Her fingers join the mix as her mouth moves to your clit, and suck hard, just as her fingers push their way inside you. Too easy. The moan that leaves her mouth, along with a breathless mumble of your name has you mewling again. 

You should probably feel embarrassed at how quickly they slide in, but you’re too distracted by the way her fingers curve up, right onto a spot that has your mind blanking. It comes all too suddenly, the sudden onslaught of pleasure causing the tightening in your stomach to release. 

“Yuki– that feels really– mnh!” 

Her eyes look up at you, noting the way your head tilts back slightly, the red flush covering your cheeks and waits for you to look at her again. “There you are.” 

Your arms are trembling from the exertion of holding yourself up, and from the constant flexing of muscles as Yuki touches your sensitive bud and sends a pleasurable tremor through your whole body again. “Yuki.” You breathe out. Her mouth is wet from you. 

“Mmm, yes?” She must know how she looks while kneeling in between your legs like that with that innocent smile on her face. A laugh sneaks out from her throat as your mouth drops open. Yuki traces two fingers up and down your slick. “Don’t worry. You don’t have to talk too much.” 

Your hips jerk in sensitivity. A thrill of desperation runs through you when she pulls her fingers away, a sticky trail following her action. Pleasure thrums through your thighs at the thought of more. It must be messy. You must have made that mess. Your heart rate picks up again. Yuki licks her lips before she says her next words. 

“I know what you’re really after.” She pulls away from you and another whine leaves your lips at the loss of her warm mouth. “Shh, you’ve been so good to me so far, so compliant. Don’t stop now.” She eases out of her clothing easily, tossing it to the side as she clambers on top of you, moving you further back onto the bed like it’s nothing. 

Her voice continues as she adjusts the both of you, wrapping one of your legs around her waist. “You don’t want something filling you up today, huh? You just want me on top.” 

“What?” You ask breathlessly. You can feel it. She’s wet too, she must be for those sorts of sounds to be heard from where she’s using her hips to grind against you. “You always have so much to s– mnh!” She presses down hard with her hips, just at where both your sensitive buds brush against each other. 

She leans down, pressing your chests against each other briefly and you can feel her heart racing as she pants. 

“Sometimes.” She whispers into your ear, pushing against you harder at an angle that has you slack-jawed. “You’re so needy. And when you want something inside…” Somehow she manages to slide her fingers in during her motions, pulling it out quickly and you can feel your walls flutter at the loss. 

“Y-Yuki–” 

“You’ll beg and whine.” She stresses the words, leaning back up again to go a little faster. She doesn’t let your leg slide off her waist, holding onto you tightly to keep her stable on top. “Just like how you are now.” 

All you can do is cling onto her waist as she moves on top of you fluidly. 

“Always so messy.” She coos, wiping a sweaty strand of hair away from your face . “You never let me take my time with you, huh?” 

It’s overwhelming, and you think you’re blabbering some nonsense about how it feels good, but it doesn’t even sound like words to you. You’re too far gone with how her hips are moving against yours; slowly, but somehow, sending so much through your body.

“But you like this.” She slows again, moving her hips in a circling motion as you try to catch your breath. “You’d prefer me to just take you, right?” 

Your voice shakes and you’re writhing under her touch, but she’s a little too accustomed to keeping you still. “It’s too much!” Gasping, you feel your mind become overtaken with pleasure. You can feel Yuki, all warm, her weight pressing down on you pleasurably into the sheets. You can feel another tightening in your belly, and it’s hot. It’s really, really hot. A breath of her name leaves your lips instead. 

“Thought of you a lot while I was gone.” She murmurs, pushing into you a little harder. “How did I know I’d come home to you dressed up as a little present for me to unwrap?” 

It’s the sound of her excited laugh that finally pushes you over the edge, a white-hot searing feeling thrumming through your body. Just seeing you lose control under her has her reaching her high too, letting out a breath of your name that you don’t hear through your pounding heart and ringing in your ears. 

You throw your arm over your eyes, trying to catch your breath. Yuki’s hands massage your shoulders, once, twice, and then she pulls back tenderly. Letting go of your leg comes first, and then she kneels between your legs again. A choked whine leaves your lips as you feel her kiss your clit. It’s too much. Thankfully, she realises it too and lets you try to relax on your own. Every slow movement sends an electric thrum through your body as you try to stretch out your body. It doesn’t hurt. It just still feels a little too good. 

“So, Valentine’s Day, huh?” Yuki’s voice breaks through your clouded head. It sounds slightly muffled. Slowly, you let your arm fall off your face, staring at the ceiling. 

“Mhm.” You voice back, throat still spent from half-heard moans and trying to speak while your body shakes with aftershocks of pleasure. 

Yuki places a kiss on your forehead, arranging you properly onto the mattress. A small grunt leaves your lips as she sits on top of you. She tilts her head, keeping you in her line of vision. “I didn’t know you were the type to want to celebrate things like that.” 

You shrug your shoulders. There’s a pause and you dare to peek at her face. Her expression is neutral, but you know better. It’s her thinking face. What could she possibly be thinking about? Was it weird? 

In all your time together, you’d never really made a big deal of celebrations. Neither had she. She was happy with whatever you wanted, whether it be a party or something with just the two of you. Tsukumo Yuki is no pushover. She argued calmly, never raising her voice. You met her friends and she met yours, and they were all such wildly different and interesting people that you’d started to realise where her confident and bold nature had arisen from. You often lost track of all the people she knew. The perks of travelling the world, you decided.

She laughs, loudly and unashamed. It should startle you, but it just makes you look in her direction instead.. “Something funny?”

“No.” Yuki leans down, elbows placed above your shoulders as her hand delicately runs through your hair. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” 

You curl your fingers to the side of her cheek, sliding your fingers through some of her hair. “Mmh. You’re upset because you didn’t plan anything for us, huh?” 

Her eyes close briefly as she feels your touch. She shrugs, and thankfully, there’s no sign of an apology on her face. “Next time.”  

“Oh, there’s a next time?” 

“I’m going somewhere next month.” She ignores your question, moving to sit beside you instead, stretching her legs out unabashedly, taking up space like she always did. You move to sit up beside her as well, eyes not moving off her lips mouthing off her words. 

“Oh.” Without meaning to, there’s a sinking feeling in your chest. There’s never anything wrong with her business trips. She made reasons to go places but she always came home to you. She always made sure that you knew that you never strayed from her thoughts while she was overseas. It was like this before you’d started dating. Still. Something about her bringing it up to you now felt insincere, like she was pushing herself away from you. You two were dating, sure. Did she love you? Did you love her? Did that even matter at this point in time? 

Yuki turns her head to face you properly, and you can finally see her face. It causes an odd thump in your heart. Her face is relaxed and her eyebrows aren’t lightly furrowed in thought like they usually are. There are still things you don’t know about her. 

“I want you to come with me.” She says simply, as though those words haven’t frozen you in place. 

This is new. This is unexpected. Tsukumo Yuki might as well have just proposed. 

Your fists clench on the mattress. “I don’t have the money or the time set aside right now to–” 

“My treat. I’ll pay.” She cuts you off. 

It means more than that. You can see it in her eyes, the calculating tilt of her head as though she’s wondering what you’ll say next. She never minces words and says whatever she thinks or feels out loud brashly. So why did it feel like she was dancing around something else here? 

Your response comes out as a mumble, still trying to catch up with what’s actually going on. “Okay.” 

“Just okay?!” 

You nod. She responds to your acceptance by grumbling something under her breath. It has you leaning closer, trying to figure out what she said. “What was that?” 

“I said,” she pauses in favour of swiping a thumb over your cheek, sighing. “That I don’t know what I expected.” 

You blink up her confusedly. Your mind is still a little bleary, and you’re sure you’re going to fall asleep soon. Your whole body feels the happy tiredness that comes after every session with Yuki. But you refuse to let it take over. Not before you know. Not before she tells you what’s really on her mind. 

“Look.” She sighs again, turning to face you properly and crossing her legs. “This is new to me.” 

Dazed, you feel yourself laugh at the thought. You were friends before this. You were one of the many people she met up with when she craved friendly company, and then suddenly she wasn’t. Suddenly, you were going on dates and moving in together. For some reason, the thought of this being new to her was hilarious. 

“I’m being serious!” She says back, not in an annoyed way, but rather like stating a fact. “You, me, I’ve never done this before. Taking things further has never been something I’ve thought about.” Her voice trails off. “I like this though.” 

You feel your breath hitch. There it was – unequivocal truths. 

“When I was away this time, I kept thinking about you, waiting at home. And then when I was at the airport, without my phone…” She rolls her eyes at the memory, raising an eyebrow at you when you chuckle. “I was really thinking about how awful it was that I couldn’t contact you in some way, to tell you that I was coming home.” 

There’s an odd stress on her final word. You think you get it now. “Hmm,” is all you reply with. 

“So it makes sense that I’d want you to come with me. Then I don’t have to worry about it anymore.” 

You snort. “Solving the problem as it comes your way, huh?” 

“Obviously.” She smiles at you, running a hand through your hair and nudging you closer to her bare form. She only continues once you’re comfortably leaning against her side. A loud, contented sigh leaves her lips. “So come with me.” She whispers, so that only you can hear it, even though it’s only you two in this room. 

You nod, feeling her kiss your head. “Okay.” 

[rayne-astrophile]

Special oneshot before Valentine's Day ends :D

Buttons - Rayne Ames x F!Reader

Notes - inspired by a comic I read when i was a child where japanese students give their shirt's button (the one in the same level as their heart) to their crush because it kind of means they give their heart to them!

- highschool!au & ooc rayne

You have a crush on Rayne Ames even before he becomes the Student Council's president. He might not remember you, but he had helped you with your homework when you first attended Easton.

Since then, you fell in love with him.

And today is Valentine's day. Students start to give their shirt's button to their crushes.

You grip yours in your hand. You want to give it to Rayne, but you're still considering it. What if he doesn't accept it? What if he doesn't like you? What if he doesn't remember you at all?

But you have promised yourself to confess your feelings for him today, on Valentine's day. It doesn't matter if he rejects you, you just want him to acknowledge your feelings.

In the end, you come to a conclusion to give him your shirt's button.

It is lunch break when you try to find Rayne. You look around the school, and finally you catch a glimpse of half blonde and half raven hair behind the class building.

Your eyes lit up as you take a step forward, but-

"Please take my button," You widen your eyes when a girl's voice reaches your ears. You immediately hide yourself at the other side of the building as you listen to the girl's confession for Rayne.

Your heart aches in pain, as the possibilities of him accepting the girl's confession still exists. You peek silently from the other side.

That girl is the student council's vice president, Judy. She is the beauty of the school, and she didn't get that title for nothing. Her blonde hair and her ocean eyes... she's just perfect. She also performs well in academics, adding to her popularity.

You're doing well with your academics, too, but you're more low key. You always hate attention.

Despite both of them being the dream partner, the students can't help but ship them. "Perfection is for perfection", they say.

That makes you ponder,

What if Rayne accepts her? Do you have no chance at all? Does he---

"I appreciate your feelings for me," Rayne's smooth voice cuts you off from your train of thoughts. "But I can't accept it. I'm sorry," he apologises as Judy slowly retreats her button. "It's fine, Rayne." She smiles as she puts her button into her pocket. "I just want to get over this feeling and focus on studying." She runs a hand through her hair.

Judy lets out a sigh as she looks at Rayne. "So, who's the lucky one? I see you already took off your button." She asks in interest.

Her sentence makes your heart shatter into pieces. You lower your head and your feet finally take you away from the scene as you put your button into your pocket.

Rayne stays silent as he looks to the side; at your previous hiding spot.

"I'm going to give it to her now."

You enter the empty class, while the other students are busy giving their buttons to their crushes. Everyone is laughing and smiling, while you're alone, doing your own things.

It is not long after that you hear the door of the classroom being pushed open.

What you do not expect is your crush walking in.

Your heart skips a beat as your eyes meet his golden ones, which you immediately look away. Even so, you can see him entering the class from the corner of your eyes.

"Why are you here? Don't you want to give your button to your crush?"

You raise your head to look at him as he is already (surprisingly) in front of you. You look around the class before pointing to yourself, "You're asking me?"

Rayne visibly frowns. "Who else would I be talking to if it's not you? Do you see anyone else in this class, (Last name)?"

You gape your mouth, "Y-You know me?" You ask in disbelief. His frown darkens as he furrows his eyebrows. "What's that supposed to mean?" He mutters. "We've been classmates since our first year."

You look away timidly as you brush a strand of your hair to the back of your ear, only for it to fall back. "I didn't think you'd remember me," you whisper softly, which is audible to him.

"And why'd you think that?"

Is he always this talkative? You are already screaming on the inside.

"I..." you trail your eyes away from him. "Have... have you given your button to your crush?"

His frown is even more visible when you change the topic. He lets out a sigh, but he wants to get over it anyway.

"I was going to give it to her," he murmurs. "Do you think she'll accept it?" His question makes you confused. Why would he want your opinion?

"Of course she will. You're everyone's crush, you know?" You mumble, your voice is barely above a whisper.

But he still can hear it.

"Is that so?" He asks, and you can barely see the corners of his lips lift up as he reaches out his fist to you. "Then, you'll accept this, right?"

He opens his fist, revealing a button in his palm. Your eyes widen as you look at him in disbelief.

"W-What?"

Rayne trails his eyes away from you. "It's okay if you don't want to. I see you, too, have taken off your button." He lowers his hand, only for you to take it into yours.

"N-No! I..." you stutter as you take out your own button from your pocket. Hesitantly, you put the small object on his palm. "You can take mine. I-I can't possibly take yours,"

Rayne stares at the two buttons on his palm before locking his eyes with yours. "Why not?" You lower your head as you fiddle your hands on your lap. "I-I just can't believe it. You can't possibly have feelings for someone like me-"

"Let me prove it to you, then."

You flinch when his warm hand cups your cheek and lifts your head up to face him. Before you knew it, his soft lips pressed against yours, taking your breath away.

He moves his lips with a gentle, delicate movement as his other hand rests on your nape, allowing him to deepen the kiss. You find yourself lost in his kiss as you grip the hem of your skirt, your cheeks burning and your heart beating faster than ever.

Seconds feel like eternity for you until Rayne finally pulls away. His tongue runs on his lower lip as his golden eyes stare into yours.

"Is that enough?" He asks breathlessly, his own cheeks heating up as you are already as red as a beautiful rose. "I-I..." you stutter, struggling to arrange your words.

"It's still not enough, I see."

You gasp, "Wait-"

Before you can finish your sentence, he presses his lips against yours once again. His hands move from your nape to your waist, pulling you closer, earning a gasp from you, and he takes advantage of your parted lips to slip his tongue into your mouth.

He tastes every inch of your mouth as he turns your bodies around so that your back is against the desk. His hand on your waist moves onto your desk, trapping you as he kisses you passionately.

After what seems like forever, he finally pulls away. He looks over to the door before looking back at you. "Seems like the other students are still not coming back," he hums. "I've been waiting to do this since our first year," he mutters, his thumb brushes against your lower lip. His eyes stare into yours as he leans in, hungry for more.

The moment the sentence escapes his lips, you figure, that him, too, has fallen ever since your first encounter.

BYE

[hazbinshusk]

This one is so interesting! A kiss out of spite for Husk? 👀✨

oh, love, it took me a few to figure out where I was going with this, but I love it lol. between my laptop being an asshole and life kind of sucking, I'm just so happy to finally have this finished :)

prompt #41: a kiss out of spite.

“Ooh! And we can set up a flower arranging class over there…” Charlie points towards the far end of the hotel lobby excitedly, and you hurriedly circle the same place on the floor plan on your clipboard and mark it with a flower.

You almost trip over your own feet as she suddenly changes direction, clasping her hands together excitedly. Alastor, walking beside you with his hands tucked demurely behind his back, notices your slip with an irritatingly condescending smirk. He takes Charlie’s rerouting in stride, watching her go with the same blandly indulgent expression as a father pretending to care about their toddler’s half-gibberish rambling.

“…And over there we can host a seminar on building healthy relationships!” the princess declares, clasping her hands together and bouncing happily on her heels. Ahead of you, Vaggie is working on hanging a banner that declare the Hazbin Hotel a ‘Home for Happy Hearts!’, the flap of her wings rustling through the plants Niffty had just finished watering below her. “What d’you think?”

You scrawl the words ‘healthy seminar’ on the floorplan before looking up to meet her expectant expression. Valentine’s Day is coming up, and Charlie had recently come up with the idea to host a weekend-long event to promote building healthy connections among Sinners.

Choosing your words carefully, you give her a small, encouraging smile. “It sounds great, Charlie, I just… I don’t know if flowers and a seminar is enough to compete with the Vees.”

Every year since Valentino had claimed the title of Overlord, he’d been throwing annual fuck-fests here in Pride – an easy cash grab for him and his partners – that were supposed to emulate the bacchanalias of the Lust Ring. Mostly, it was just one big, weekend-long orgy with questionable rules about consent and overpriced merchandise.

Charlie deflates slightly. “Really?”

You shrug a shoulder apologetically. The three of you make your way towards the bar, where Husk is polishing a glass. Upon seeing the change in your trajectory, he reaches for the bottle of rye he keeps for Alastor with a sigh.

 “I just… Valentine’s Day has such a… specific vibe here in Hell. I don’t think the whole sexless group lessons on communicating is going to draw the crowds you think it will when there’s a straight up orgy happening a few blocks away.”

You take a seat at the bar, color rising in your cheeks as Husk's eyes flicker up to meet yours just as you mention the orgy. You clear your throat, missing the small smile that touches Husk's face. He turns away from the three of you when he catches him, replacing the rye on the shelf, lest Alastor notice his reaction.

Forcing yourself back to the conversation at hand, you continue, "Especially since we won't even have the draw of Hell's hottest porn star to bring people in on the day."

Angel was of course contractually obliged to help host the depravity for the Vees; he’d reluctantly left a few hours ago to go and shoot the promo pieces for the event.

“Oh.” Charlie pouts, and you immediately feel worse about voicing your concerns. Her brow furrows for a moment as she considers what you’ve said, before she breaks in to a grin. “Oh! I know! We need to film another advertisement for the hotel!”

Husk deflates slightly at the idea, setting a glass in front of you. You hadn't even noticed him making you a drink. When you smile at him by way of thanks, he shrugs a shoulder, that smile reappearing. This time, you return it.

"I don't know if that..."

"We can get some decorations up and everyone can dress up," Charlie continues, and Alastor is swirling his drink idly, looking annoyingly entertained by your inability to get your point across. "And maybe if we get some of our single residents and staff to appear in the ad..."

She gives you and Husk a pointed, hopeful look, and he holds up his hands immediately, ears falling back against his skull. "Leave me outta it, Princess. I ain't got any interest in bein' paraded around like some kinda show pony. 'sides, you might need to find someone a little younger if you wanna actually get people through the door."

"Awww," Charlie coos, and Husk rolls his eyes to the ceiling.

"This ain't self-pity, Princess." he continues. And he genuinely sounds as though he means it. Resigned, maybe, but not self-pitying. "'m bein' realistic."

"I'm afraid my old friend Husker is right, my dear," Alastor pipes up, rolling his cane between his fingers in a show of idleness. "As much as he may have mastered the art of pouring a half-decent cocktail, he hasn't the same... finesse when it comes to seduction."

Husk glowers, and you can't help yourself. "And how would you know?"

Alastor's smile twitches wider as his tone turns to one of faux-pity. "Oh, dear girl, I have known our bartender a long time. And even before he came into my employ, I think you'll find-"

"Al." Husk interjects sullenly. "I think they get the point."

"-that he didn't have too much luck in romance." The radio demon's grin takes on a wicked tilt. "Long-term, anyway. Hm, Husker?"

The bartender grunts noncommittedly, color staining his muzzle.

Charlie's still pouting sympathetically, and you swear it's making it worse for Husk. Hell, you kind of wish you could just get up and leave to spare him the audience, but somehow that feels worse - like you'd be judging him somehow. Sure, you don't know much about Husk's past, but as curious as you are, you're positive this isn't how the bartender wants his issues aired to any of you.

"I'm sure that's not true, Husk," Charlie says, and she makes move to reach out to touch his hand for a moment before reconsidering. "I'm... uh, I'm sure you could still-"

"Please don't." You have to stop yourself from smiling at Husk - he just sound so fucking done.

"Yes, Charlie..." Alastor continues smugly. He is really starting to piss you off. "We'd hate to embarrass our dear bartender any more, would we? If he's a little over the hill, it's all the-"

"Oh, for fuck's sake-" you roll your eyes, leaning over the bar and grabbing ahold of Husk's suspender. He manages a surprised flush and wide eyes before you crush your lips against his.

The kiss is abrupt and has a rough edge to it that makes your stomach swirl, but Husk relaxes into it after a moment, his paw coming up to cover the hand you have wrapped around his suspender. The other touches your cheek gently, claws sliding through the hair behind your ear. His tongue teases against your bottom lip for a moment before he remembers himself and pulls away. Still, you swear you hear the first low thrum of a purr rolling through his chest before you separate.

Both of you are blushing deeply and you snatch your hand away as you set yourself back on the stool. Charlie is staring at the two of you with hearts in her eyes and a slack jaw, and you swallow back the way your heart is in your throat to turn to Alastor.

"I don't know, Al. Seems like Husk still knows what he's doing to me." you shrug, desperately feigning detachment. You turn to Charlie. "I don't know if another ad is the way to go, but I'm sure we can think of something. Maybe you can get Alastor to talk about it on his broadcast. Maybe he could even use that famous voice of his to host events on the day."

Alastor's ever-present smile twitches, his eyes narrowing as Charlie gasps excitedly. Standing, you meet Husk's eye again. There's amusement in his gaze, and still-lingering shock. And something else that makes your heart dance against your ribcage. Forcing yourself to remain calm, you wink at him.

Husk smiles in return.

Oh, this was totally worth pissing off the radio demon.

send me a prompt and either husk or blitzø

[chaotic-iguana]

Hii! Again, congrats on 400 followers!💗 How about Joel Miller x Reader, with "Shut up and kiss me." for the prompt? <3 can't wait to see what you write! :)

wordcount: 1.2k

thank you for the ask and the congrats!! love u fr omg. let me know what u think!

Joel was being an asshole. 

In a way, you suppose he always was. At least a little. Always scowling, grunting, biting out one-word responses. It’s why you and Ellie had taken to (affectionately) calling him a caveman from time to time, resulting in a sharp glare at both of you before he’d just shake his head and walk away. 

Most of Jackson was afraid of him. This hulking, snarling figure who towered over them all, tension practically rolling off him in waves. His brother might be the leader, but Joel was the one with the real sense of authority to him. But you never truly got that side of him. None of that was for you. Ever. No, for you, Joel had reserved only his softest gaze. Large, scarred hands brushing gently against yours. Lips curling up - albeit slightly - at your offbeat singing rather than twisting in displeasure or growling at you to shut up. 

Ellie had noticed it, too. Had giggled while teasing him about his childish crush. He’d batted her away, of course. Gruffly told her to go check on the pasta. But she was right, how couldn’t she be? You were the sweetest, prettiest thing he had ever seen in his damn life, but he never could find the words to tell you that. 

And you might have been sweet - and pretty - but you were also stubborn. You refused to acknowledge any of what was between the two of you - that simmering, electric something lingering in the air when you were with him, leaving the taste of honey and the sweet scent of jasmine lingering in your mind long, long after. You wanted him to say it, for him to tell you what he wants. Waiting wasn’t a problem. Not like you had much but time. 

But Joel simply didn’t know how to. He had lost far too much, far too fast. Only now, with Ellie, was he beginning to pick up the fractured pieces of who he used to be. He needed time. 

And so the limbo continued, as it had for years. 

You didn’t mind. 

But then winter rolled around, and with it came February - specifically, the fourteenth. Maria, in her efforts to make life seem as normal and unaffected as possible, had held a Valentine’s dance, and scoured roses from god-knew-where for Jackson residents to gift to those they wanted to take. 

And you had gotten one. Some kid (compared to him, anyways) named James had approached you when you were on your way home from patrol, and stuttered his way through asking you to go with him. You’d laughed, politely taken the rose, but had whispered to him that you already had a date. 

Joel hadn’t heard the whisper, though. All he’d seen was you, beaming at the boy like you beamed at him. Laughing, putting a hand on his shoulder, taking the flower and leaning in. He’d looked away, then. Walked home, faster than usual, his step unfaltering. He refused to watch any longer. 

But since then, which had been a week ago, he hadn’t even looked in your direction. Hardly spoke to you. He was like a stranger - paying little to no attention to anything you said, or ignoring you entirely. Brushing past you while you were mid-sentence. He’d closed himself off entirely. You were waiting for him to ask you to the dance, but when you asked Ellie what his plans were, she said he’d told her he was just gonna catch up on some sleep. Sleep? Seriously? 

And now the dance was tonight, and you didn’t know what to do. You put on your cleanest clothes, did your hair in a half-up style that he’d complimented once, and waited. All night, at The Tipsy Bison. It was way past midnight, when everyone had gone home and you’d grown tired of nursing the same drink you’d been sitting with all night, snapping your head towards the door every time it opened. Most people had come, danced, drank, and gone home. And you were still here, like an idiot. 

Tears of frustration building in your eyes, you didn’t even realise where you were going until you’d slammed your glass on the bar, wrenched the door open, and stomped your way over to Joel’s, now loitering outside his front door. You shuffled on your feet, unsure what to do, before the door swung open - making you step back in alarm. 

And then he was stepping out , with a scowl on his face, brows furrowed as he crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at you. 

“Can I help ya?” His voice was so fucking cold and you couldn’t even think through the stabbing pain in your chest. Before you knew it, you were choking on sobs, shaking on his doorstep. Instantly, his anger melted into worry, eyes wide and panicked as his arms curled around your shoulders gently. “What’s wrong? What’s happened? Did he do somethin’? Gonna break his fuckin’ face, swear to God.” And that just made you cry harder - because what in the fuck was he talking about? Who the hell was this “he”? You brought your hands up to your face, pawing at your eyes, but he gripped them delicately. “What’d he do?” His eyes were blazing now; fury evident in his tone. That was your breaking point, and you erupted, fueled by your anger and stumbling your way through a lecture somehow with sobs shuddering through you.  

“Who the f-fuck is ‘he’, Joel? Who the hell are you talk-ing about? I was-I waited, Joel. You wouldn’t-you-you didn’t even ask me out to the dance, and it was fi-I was sad at first but then I was like- I thought m-maybe you were be-being shy. For whatever fucking reason. And then-“ you gulp in a shaky breath, swallowing to clear the snot in your throat before continuing. “And th-then I waited there. All-all night. For you. Why would there ever be anyone else? But you’ve be-been so mean and I haven’t done anyth-I don’t deserve it and I miss you. What-why are you angry w-with me?”

You could see your words sink in. His shoulders slumped, mouth pressing into a straight line as he looked down, hands falling. He was ashamed, and he looked like a schoolboy being told off as he did it. But then another one of your tears fell on his hand, and he was looking at you again. 

“‘S all my fault, baby. You ain’t done nothin’. “ A deep breath. “I saw ‘m give you the rose. James. Saw you smile at him, real pretty, too. Thought you’d be with him tonight. Got inside my own head, y’know? Didn’t know how’t ask you to the dance, honey. Didn’t know how’t say it. Didn’t know how’t tell you I lov-“ and suddenly the large, stoic man in front you becomes a bumbling mess, trying desperately to cover up the words he’s been struggling to utter for half a decade. 

He stutters for a few seconds, then takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, resigning himself to his fate. It takes you fisting his shirt at his shoulder for his eyes to snap open again, confusion written on his face. 

“Shut up and kiss me, Miller.” 

And for once in his life, he shut his mouth and obeyed. 

hello loves, as always - thank you for reading. comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! taglist (message me to be removed, no hard feelings): @imherefordeanandbones, @theywhowriteandknowthings, @josephquinnswhore, @millerscoffee, @nostalxgic, @sscorpiiio, @pedrosaidsheispunk. @its-nebuleuse, @sofiparallel, @mandoisapunk, @bastardmandennis, @pawnshopb1ues, dividers by @reveriesources! go check them out they’re amazing.  

[abiiors]

red lines - pt. 2 ║// matty healy x reader

a/n: this was supposed to be a late christmas/new year's gift for you lot but oh well, consider this an early valentine's day gift now lol. this is sad but also smutty which seems to be my favourite thing to write so enjoy ♡ cw: angst, crying (so much of it my god) (seriously, matty cries after sex like a loser) and arguments, a briefly sick baby (she has a cold) fucked up relationships in general, typos, probably cringe idk. wc: 6.5k here's part 1

matty’s red rimmed eyes stare back at you. 

if it weren’t for your baby’s soft babbling grounding you, you would have slammed the door in his face the second you opened it. before he even had the chance to get a word in. not like he’s said anything yet—he’s busy looking from mia to you and back to mia who’s strapped to your chest, face away from him. 

his daughter. he doesn’t even know what his daughter looks like. 

your heart hammers in your chest as you look at him, take him in properly. he looks like he’s been frozen in time—the same man you left almost a year ago, maybe with a few more greys on his head now. but everything about him harshly pulls you back in time. 

looking at him after all this time is like having the last piece of a puzzle click in place. 

“hi,” he says, and looks at the back of mia’s head for a moment. his hands twitch at his sides and matty shoves them in his pockets quickly. 

you clear your throat. “hi.”

the silence that lingers is so awkward that even the baby senses it. she fusses and lets out a soft whine and you know you only have a few moments before the whine turns into a full cry. 

“come in,” you offer and he nods. 

the door shuts behind him with a deafening creek and the silence returns with a vengeance. 

you watch matty as he looks around him. you wonder how it all looks through his eyes—a house that’s neither too clean, nor too messy, mia’s toys on the sofa, her bottle on the kitchen table, half finished. the half cooked pancake in the pan. and then he looks at the baby. 

you watch him carefully, look at the way his eyes shine so brightly and the subtle tremble of his lips. matty takes his hand out of his pocket and reaches out. about to touch her blanket. but you step back on instinct and his hand lingers in the air before falling at his side, limp and useless. 

“what do you want, matty?” you ask, your voice more steady than you expected.

he swallows harshly. “i wanted–i thought i’d…”

“you thought…?”

he squares his shoulder and straightens his spine, gathering courage just like you’ve seen him do so many times in the past. 

“i wanted to see her. mia. it’s a beautiful name…”

“who told you her name?”

you don’t know where the snapping, harsh tone comes from but matty flinches regardless. you don’t give him a chance to answer though. you know who told him her name. 

“it was adam, wasn’t it?”

“please don’t be mad at him,” matty tries hastily and takes a step forward before coming to an abrupt stop. “i begged until… yeah, i begged him to tell me.”

“look i…” he continues, “i messed up, okay? i messed up big time. i've spent every day regretting it. i miss both of you, and i can't—”

“you miss her?” your voice rings out around the room. 

mia in your arms is the only thing stopping you from yelling as your entire body shakes with so much rage. you try to keep the tears at bay, you really do but they fall one after the other. land softly on her head. 

“you miss her, do you, matty? do you even know what she looks like?”

he shakes his head and looks down in shame. 

“no? you didn’t beg your best friend for a photo?” your voice has taken a mocking quality—ugly and cruel. words meant to hurt him, to damage him. words that might give him a taste of a fraction of what you went through. 

“please, i—”

“get out.”

“no, listen to me! please, just—”

“leave!”

matty stumbles back and mia breaks into a cry. whatever possessed you to yell like that leaves instantly, zapping away every ounce of strength in your body. your knees shake with the effort of standing upright. your arms tighten around the baby. 

matty wipes his eyes quickly and makes his way out the door. 

it’s the thud that breaks the last of your restraint. quietly, you sit on the floor, soothing her for what feels like hours. trying to calm yourself by breathing in her scent. she’s safe. you’re both safe. 

you don’t need a third. 

you only need her. 

matty doesn’t give up. 

although he doesn’t show up again in person, a box shows up at the door—one addressed to both you and mia. it feels heavy in your hands and something rattles inside. 

as curious as you are, you set it on the dining table and go about your day. 

you don’t need any of this, whatever he’s sent is probably useless. it’s silly and meant to break down your defenses. you’re sure of it. 

still, every time you pass by it, the box seems to wink at you. so you chuck it in a random drawer—one where you keep the extra nappies, the backup-backup-backup ones—and breathe a sigh of relief.

relief that’s almost comically short-lived.

the days pass, and life falls back into its routine—diapers, bottles, and the sweet sound of mia's coos and giggles. the box from matty remains tucked away in the drawer, almost forgotten. you convince yourself that whatever he sent doesn't matter; you've built a new life for you and mia, and that's all that matters.

it's a rainy afternoon when mia decides to unleash chaos upon her last clean onesie. a cosmic fucking joke really that she should need her backup-backup-backups when you’ve almost managed to forget about the box. but there it is, sitting atop the neatly stacked diapers—a plain cardboard box, tied with a simple piece of twine.

you take it out and set it on the kitchen table. then you brew yourself an extra strong cup of coffee and sit in front of it, almost like it’s a staring match…

who’s going to break first?

but obviously it’s a cardboard box, it stays fucking still no matter how hard you wish for it to burst into flames. so you take a sip of coffee and begin undoing the twine. your hands tremble as you lift the lid. your heartbeat quickens. 

first you see a layer of tissue papers covering something and then under it, a plain envelope with your name written on it in matty’s handwriting. 

inside it is a piece of paper, slightly torn at the edges. folded and refolded a million times. 

hi, my love please come home i’m so sorry i don't expect you to forgive me. i messed up. horribly. there’s no other way to put it. and there's no excuse for the pain i've caused. i understand if you never want to see me again, but please, i’m begging you to let me see her just once. just to let her get to know her father. so that i can get to know my daughter.  i know what i did is unforgivable but it’s like half a piece of my heart has been missing since you walked out i let you walk out.  i don’t expect you to let me back into your lives but please let me hold her just once.  i would also like to set up a small trust fund in her name if you give me permission. i won’t have any control over it, but i want her to have something from me for anything she might want in the future.  i’m leaving that decision up to you.  there are post cards in here that i wrote for you and for her when things got really really bad. it’s not an excuse for how i behaved but some day i hope we could be together friends again.  till then just know that not a moment goes by when i don’t wish i could go back in time and stop myself from till then i hope you know how incredibly sorry i am. i hope you know that i will always have nothing but love and respect for you. and for mia.  love,  matty

the weight of the emotions threatens to suffocate you. the scratched-out bits from the letter are just slightly visible. not really enough for you to make it out properly but whatever it says has to be too personal, right? 

you sink further into the chair, and tears blur your vision. the postcards are right there under the letter—a hundred or so—his heart bared to you. all of the best and worst parts. all the ugly ones too. 

and then there’s the trust fund that he wants to set up. 

you know it’s the smart thing to do. you can’t have emotions clouding your judgement when it comes to securing her future. and he said he won’t have any control over it so that’s good, right…?

and yet a part of you hesitates to pick up the cards and read his words. 

everything feels too raw, too vulnerable and honest. 

everything feels too much.

you think and you think and you think for the next few days. 

all you do is think about him and the postcards and the trustfund. you even have a little spat with your mum when she says it’s a good idea. you accuse her of playing the devil’s advocate but ultimately she’s right. 

this is not about you. this is about your daughter. 

so you let her bathe mia and get her ready for bed, and then you pick up your phone and open the old text thread. 

have an amazing night, babe. break a leg.

the text sits there innocently. the words are still the same—casual and loving and normal and almost like they were written in a foreign language. you quickly wipe up your tears and delete the old thread before there’s time to second-guess it. 

gone. winked out of existence just like that. 

and then you open a fresh new thread. 

hi matty, hope you’re well.  got your letters hello matty hey. i got the box. can we talk?

it amazes you how much back and forth you have to do for a simple message. how many times you talk yourself out of sending it. but once it’s gone. it’s gone. 

half a minute later, three dots dance in response. 

hey, would love to. next sunday?

sunday works. that’s exactly a week from now. enough time for you to prepare mentally. it’s also a day after your mum gets back from her mini holiday so you can just leave mia with her without having to worry about bringing her with you. 

sunday works. see you then. 

and that’s the end of that. you switch your phone off and vow to not think about him till then. if only it were that easy…

three days later you wake up to a shrill cry coming from the nursery. 

hastily you check the time, 2:37 am, and run to check up on mia, heart thudding in your chest. she’s usually such a calm baby. she sleeps so well through the night and yet the closer you get the louder her cries get. 

the more you feel fear grip your chest. 

“oh my love, what’s wrong? what’s wrong, baby?”

she continues to wail even after you check her diapers and feel her cot for any wetness. it’s only when you gently touch her cheek do you realise how warm she feels. heat radiates from her little body and panic sets in as you rush to the kitchen to grab the thermometer. the digital display confirms your fear—a fever.

not very high but still, she’s sick for the first time in her life. 

“you’ve got a fever sweet girl,” you coo and clear your dry throat. 

fuck! calling your mum’s not an option. calling the gp’s also not an option. 

her loud cries make your heart squeeze in pain. rocking doesn’t help. strapping her to your naked chest helps only for about ten minutes until she’s screaming once again. 

you try a bath, hoping the vapour would clear her cold a little but all it does it give you a headache. 

your head feels like it’s about to burst open, blood splattering on the walls and everywhere else as mia continues to cry until her whole body is pink and red from the effort. how does a tiny baby have this much strength in her lungs? you feel her forehead for the tenth time—warm, and you wipe away her runny nose. but no amount of cooing and rocking her helps. 

“calm down, darling,” you try to shush her, a note of begging in your voice. your temples throb and mia wails right next to your ears.

you think maybe singing to her would calm her down but any more exertion and the black dots in your vision continue to swim around. 

fuck. 

you need help. and your mum is not an option. absolutely no one you can call at 3:30 in the morning. 

absolutely no one who will even answer. 

but that’s not true is it…

with shaky hands you pick up your phone and dial his number. you’d promised yourself never to go crawling to him for help. but the universe has a funny way of forcing your hand. 

desperation for your daughter's well-being overrides any pride or resentment. the phone rings, each tone louder than the last. just as you’re sure it’s about to go unanswered, his groggy, sleepy voice comes through from the other side. 

“hello?”

you barely give him the chance to speak before launching into your panic-filled pleas. “matty, it’s mia. she’s sick–she won’t–she’s so warm and my mum’s not here and i don’t–nothing's working—”

“hey, hey, love calm down,” he shushes from the other side and then there's rustling in the background. “i’m coming over.”

matty doesn’t even take fifteen minutes to get to your house, eyes widening the second he takes a look at you and your daughter. she’s been attached to you like an extra limb ever since you woke up to her crying. not that you’ve had the heart to set her down for any longer than necessary but you’re aware how deranged you must look with your hair all over the place and red eyes, exhaustion embedded so deep down in your bones that no amount of sleep will get rid of it. 

“she won’t stop crying,” you launch into it the second he steps inside. every two words you hiccup, trying and failing to keep the sobs at bay. “she has a cold, matty. i’ve tried everything. we had a warm bath, i gave her some calpol. i’ve tried rocking her and singing to her and i’m so fucking tired but she’s just–she won’t stop—”

“hey…” it only takes one gentle touch from him to make you forget every single feeling of apprehension. matty’s frown deepens.

“are you sure?” his voice has suddenly gone quiet, so quiet that you barely hear it over the baby’s cries. 

you look at him in confusion. “didn’t you listen to me? yes i’m fucking sure, she’s ill, matty. look at her!” your voice rises another octave, more and more panicked as another moment passes by and she refuses to settle down.

“no i…” he steps closer and extends his hand. almost afraid to touch her or you. maybe afraid that you might step away like last time. but you stay in place and matty touches the back of her head. it's featherlight at first as if she might break if he puts too much force into it. one touch and she’d crumble away like she was never here at all. 

as if this was all his dream. 

“no, i meant…” he swallows harshly and clears his throat. “are you sure you want me to take her?”

the hold you have on her loosens ever so slightly. 

you called matty here. it’s not like he showed up, unannounced and drunk, no! he showed up at an ungodly hour to help you. if anything… that earns him a tiny, miniscule brownie point. 

“do you know how to—”

“hold a baby?” he quips and you notice the way his face brightens almost imperceptibly, barely even noticeable. “i do, i’ve uh… yeah. i do.”

he doesn’t elaborate further, he only stands there patiently until you find your hold on her loosening. you will your heart to calm down, will your body to not be so rigid. then you take a deep breath and extend her to him.

she looks almost different in his arms. smaller somehow, so much more like him than you realised. and matty’s face holds an expression you’ve never seen before. 

something about it makes your heart stutter. 

he’s enamoured by her, so much so that he barely even reacts when she sneezes in his face and keeps crying even though it’s a bit softer now. maybe she’s just as distracted trying to process him, maybe she feels something too—a bond that’s somehow always been there, hidden and battered and hanging on by a thread. 

in a heartbeat, his face changes and he holds her to his chest. 

in a tentative voice, matty shushes her, bounces her a bit just like you had been. you wring your hands nervously waiting for something to happen. maybe he’d realise he still doesn’t want her, that he was wrong to think he did. maybe he’d give her back and leave you again quietly. 

your chest hurts at the thought, but you will it away and watch matty cuddle her closer. 

he holds her as tightly as possible without hurting her. matty closes his eyes and presses his face into her head, he swallows harshly and for a moment his whole body shudders. when he opens them again, they’re tinged pink, and he quickly looks away. 

“can you—” he clears his throat and tries again. “can you show me where the nursery is?”

you nod and gesture for him to follow. mia’s cries slow a little when matty starts walking. he continues shushing her and attempting baby talk which is slightly amusing despite everything. he gives up in a few seconds though and goes back to talking to her normally. 

“just a cold, my love,” you hear him faintly, “they’re really annoying though, aren’t they?”

in spite of yourself, you smile and stop in front of the nursery. 

“she usually likes the chair.”

matty looks to the corner of the room where you’re pointing and nods. then he clears his throat. 

“should i… uh, does she have a favourite blanket?”

the fact he thought of it is impressive. and she does, but you know it’s just been washed and folded. to get it for her, you’d have to leave them alone. for the first time ever. 

the rational part of your brain knows it won’t be a big deal. it’s two minutes at most and it’s not like matty’s gonna run away with her. your heart pounds regardless, and your feet feel leaden. 

“sure, it’s–yeah, let me just…” and then you leave before you have the chance to overthink it. 

by the time you’re get back to the nursery, soft blanket in hand, matty’s already settled in the rocking chair, mia in his arms with her cheek squished against his chest. 

he’s unbuttoned a few buttons of his shirt so he’s not entirely shirtless but just enough to feel her against his skin—to get a second chance at the skin-to-skin he missed. 

“that’s it, darling,” he speaks softly and strokes her cheek. “settle down for me. daddy’s gonna take care of you, okay?”

with every word he speaks, her eyes get droopier, her sniffles turn to quiet breaths until matty takes a deep breath and starts singing a quiet song. 

it’s unfamiliar at first, and he starts off unsure and off-kilter. his voice cracks, but mia babbles something and presses further into his chest. it’s then that he really smiles—wide and breath-taking and so incredibly happy that the air whooshes out of your lungs just at the sight of it. 

daddy’s gonna take care of you, okay?

and that’s exactly what he does. he pats on her back softly, presses small kisses to her head until your eyes sting and a sob almost escapes. 

quickly, you back away, still clutching the blanket. still holding back tears until you’re far, far away from him and somehow in the empty kitchen. the sky is only just turning pink, even then, the darkness lingers. and that’s when the dam breaks. 

great, heaving sobs spill out of you—ugly and wretched and loud enough that it’s a miracle matty doesn’t come running. your legs give out from under you and you slide against the counter, leaning against it and praying for any amount of strength. your chest aches and your body trembles. a distatant memory flashes across your mind—of the last time you cried like this. when you accidentally called adam instead of your mum. 

when adam did show up even if you tried to get him to leave.

the cool surface of the countertop offers a small comfort. with trembling hands, you clutch the soft blanket, and bury your face in it. it still holds the scent of baby oils and powders, of her fluffy little head that you adore so much. the same head that’s full of his curls. 

you gasp for a breath and stifle another sob. the blanket helps too—it’s grounding and comforting. it’s familiar. you force yourself to take another deep breath, and this time it comes a bit easier. the weight on your chest eases just a bit. the grief that felt so overwhelming all these months loosens its grip around your heart and in the stillness of dawn, matty’s voice floats into the kitchen. 

you stay there on the floor, counting one breath after the other, listening to his lullaby until the whole kitchen is bathed in the orange light of dawn.

then you wipe away the snot and the tears and make yourself stand up.

you hold your head in your hands, hoping the dull ache would go away soon, along with all the memories of the last 24 hours. at this point, you’d settle for the complete erasure of the last thirty minutes. 

you just want to go back to before—back to your happy cheerful baby, back to being busy enough that you have no time to think about him. 

you desperately crave the before where the crack in his voice doesn’t haunt every thought. where the song doesn’t echo in the crevices of your brain and mia’s cries don’t grow quieter with every word he sings. in fact, you crave an alternate world where she doesn’t cry at all. she sleeps through the night like always and you video call your mum when she wakes up. 

that’s what was supposed to happen. not…this. 

not matty being in your house with your—his—daughter, watching her with that devastated look on his face. 

a soft thud of the door jerks you out of your thoughts but the house remains devoid of baby cries. the only thing you can hear really is matty’s footsteps growing louder until you can see him at the door to the kitchen from the corner of your eye. 

he hesitates and lingers like he’s trapped in a limbo. 

“you can come in, you know?” you straighten and roll your neck to get rid of some of the pain. there’s a momentary relief before the ache comes flooding back. 

“she’s asleep…”

“yeah, i thought she would be.”

“she feels a bit cooler to the touch,” he reports and relief floods your chest. 

for a moment the kitchen stays silent. the birds outside chirp once in a while and you hear the occasional sounds of a car but everything else feels like it’s come to a standstill. quiet. the universe holding its breath in anticipation. 

“i should go—”

“coffee—”

you both speak at the same time and shut your mouth again. another pang of pain lances through your body and this time you barely hold back the wince. 

he wants to leave, of course, he does. just because he came through in a time of need doesn’t mean he’s ready to be a father. it doesn’t mean you’re ready to let him be her father. 

“coffee sounds nice,” he speaks so softly that you barely hear it at first. there’s trepidation in his voice; a slight tremor that he might be pushed away again but a rock lodges itself in your throat and all you can manage is a slight nod. 

you can feel his stare burning into the back of your head when you turn. the coffee pot is still full of yesterday’s grounds—something you haven’t had the chance to tidy up yet. now that you look around, the whole kitchen is a bit of a mess. you scoff to yourself. your mum’s been gone for three whole days and your life is already falling apart trying to be a single mother. 

the gurgling of water fills the kitchen as the kettle starts boiling and you look around for a spare mug. yours is right by the coffee machine but an extra one should be high up in the cupboard. 

matty’s shoes squeak on the floor but he doesn’t come any closer. 

“need any he—”

“no. i’m fine!”

and just to drive the point home, you yank the door to the top shelf open and stretch extra high to reach the spare mug. cool air brushes the exposed sliver of skin and just for a moment you’re tempted to see  if he’s looking, just for a tiny second, until pain lances through your neck and shoulder and this time the loud wince slips out. 

before you know it, matty’s behind you, steading you with a hand against the small of your back—warm palm pressed against warm, exposed skin. somewhere deep down you would have recognised him through smell alone—the same warm spicy smelled laced with just a hint of cigarette smoke that you’ve thought about on many lonely nights. 

sometimes when you’re deep asleep, it sneaks up on you, envelopes you so thoroughly that you wake up surrounded by it, suffocating almost and still desperately trying to get lungfulls of it. 

the same smell surrounds you now and matty’s body presses close to yours. 

“careful there,” he breathes and the warmth of it spreads goosebumps all over your body.

“you alright?”

you know he’s referring to your wince from two seconds ago but your brain takes an eternity to form a coherent sentence. 

“fine,” you manage. “i was rocking mia all night, think i pulled something.”

instantly, warm, rough fingers touch your shoulder and the space between you comes alive with electricity. 

“trust me,” he murmurs and somehow you find yourself nodding and closing your eyes, sighing when his fingers press into your skin. the wood the counter digs into your pelvis, almost like a tether to this world, something to stop you from floating away and giving in to his touch. heat simmers in your blood just as the water in the kettle comes to a full boil. 

“this feel good, love?”

distant thoughts remind you to say no, to move away and shut hm off again. he has no business touching you again, but your body seems disconnected from your brain. instead of walking away, you lean back, into his chest and away from the wood of the counter. 

the tether snaps but matty’s there to hold you down. his hand snakes around your waist and you spin. spin till you’re facing him and pressed flush against his chest. until his scent is all around, finally enough to settle into your lungs and not dissipate into the cloying scent of nightmares. 

“we s-shouldn’t…” you try to sound firm but the word makes you choke. matty’s eyes dip to your mouth. 

“we shouldn’t,” he agrees and presses his lip against yours. 

the kiss takes you back to the last time—to the before, in that cosy hotel room by the sea. you think of the two people tangled up in the bedsheets, naked and sweaty and happy. one of them looks remarkably like you—the same hair and eyes, the same smile, slightly fuller cheeks though. she laughs and whispers something in matty’s ear. then he nips at her lips just like he nips at yours now. 

it’s a kiss teeming with longing and desire and everything in between. 

your teeth knock against each other and matty takes advantage of your gasp to slide his tongue in, to let it run over your lip and against your tongue until you’re panting and leaning against him for support. 

“m-matty,”

“tell me you don’t wan’t me,” he says all of a sudden but his eyes are so full of so much hope that your heart might shatter into a million pieces to see it die away slowly. 

“i want you…”

and that’s the only permission he needs before his mouth is on yours again, hungry and hot, your lips between his teeth until they’re red and swollen, and only then does he move to your jaw. 

his stubble leaves a faint burn on your skin and the fire in your blood burns hotter. 

“please,” he chokes out and swallows roughly, “need to taste you, please.”

you don’t trust your voice enough to speak, instead you give him a light push on his shoulders. instantly, matty kneels between your legs and pulls your shorts down until they fall to your ankles, along with the underwear. 

silently, you curse for not bothering to shave or wear decent underwear. not like you knew this would be happening. but he’s like a man starved and every ounce of hesitation leaves when your fingers tangle in his hair. 

the tresses slip between your fingers, soft and curly and exactly how they used to feel a year ago, the greys stand out against your hand and a whine escapes you the moment his tongue connects to your clit. your breath hitches at the sight of him—eyes half-lidded, dark enough that they are almost black, lips swollen to the point they are wet and red. for a moment, you consider pulling him up just to kiss him again, to taste him again. but then matty’s tongue plunges inside you and your mind goes blank. 

his rough hand is against your thigh, fingers digging into soft flesh, another against your ass, holding you up and squeezing the flesh at the same time. your legs tremble and almost give up but he pushes you back and traps against the counter. 

you shouldn’t. you shouldn’t. you shoudn’t. you try telling that to yourself over and over again and yet your belly erupts in butterflies that just won’t go away. your hands move of their own accord, guiding his head, pushing his mouth right against your clit, and matty takes it all. 

“fuck–” he chokes out and goes back to licking another broad strip, “missed you, missed your taste, fucking missed you so much!”

tears sting your eyes and your body trembles for a different reason this time but you push it back and rut your hips against his face. 

despite the thoughts in your head, this feels good. this feels familiar and fantastic and as much as you don’t want to admit it, this feels right. 

matty moans against your clit and swipes a finger through your folds. euphoria makes your vision go white and you let yourself cry out his name. perhaps for the first time. the sound echoes around the kitchen, confined within the four walls of this room somehow even before you stifle the second scream. there’s a sleeping baby in the house after all, the last thing you need is for her to wake up and put an end to whatever this is until the awkwardness would push matty out of the house and possibly out of your life again—

your eyes scrunch shut as another lick makes your head spin. 

“fa-faster,” you moan out and shamelessly throw a leg over his shoulder, holding onto his head so tight now that he surely feels the tug. if anything, his efforts double, and his tongue plunges deeper into you than before.

the world goes hazy and soft around the edges as your eyes roll back into your head. 

fuck! he’s good… he’s always been good. he’s always known your body better than you have. besides, no one’s made you feel half as good in a year, no one besides your vibrator on occasional lonely nights. 

“fuck, darling you’re perfect…” he breathes and the word echoes around in your head. 

you were perfect. together. even after everything, nothing and no one can erase the that. 

you swallow another cry and hold onto him tighter. your head buzzes and pleasure floods through your entire body until you’re chanting his name over and over again. somewhere through it all, you’re aware of grinding against his face like a wild animal in heat but his mouth keeps up with it. if anything, his thumb joins in, pressing on your clit, pinching it just so till you jerk and let go all over his tongue. 

ecstasy replaces the blood in your veins, runs at lightning speeds and you feel as if you’re floating up, up and away if not for matty standing up, holding onto you, kissing you till you can taste yourself on his tongue—taste so much more that heat pools in your stomach again and you push your hands inside his t-shirt. 

his whole body tenses, muscles taut against your hand until he’s practically vibrating and rigid. 

“you really w-want this? me?”

the hope in his voice is barely controlled but you refuse to open your eyes. one look at him and you know your resolve will crumble and the tears will come. instead you push your face into the crook of his neck and nod. 

“i’ve never been more sure of something…”

for a moment, his breathing stops completely and matty goes still—you can almost feel his heart stop too, almost feel the stuttering beat pounding right under the palm of your hand. then the spell breaks and the clinking of his belt buckle fills the room. 

his lips press against the hollow of your throat, leaving wild, reckless marks behind before he moves over to where your pulse thrums wildly. his mouth finds the spot, sucks on it gently, and you find yourself losing in him once again. 

you feel the hardness of his cock through the boxers and before you have the chance to touch him properly, matty pulls away slightly, making you look at him in confusion. it’s only when his hand reaches for his wallet do you realise that he’s pulling out a condom.

good. there should be some barrier between you. some semblance of a boundary even though it laughably flimsy and pathetic. and well, that lack of barrier is really what landed you here in the first place. 

“i need—”

“yes,” he interrupts and goes in for another sloppy kiss. 

your hands wander until you’re pulling his hard cock out, feeling him moan into the kiss and he reluctantly pulls away to put the condom on. the moment stretches on and suddenly this whole thing feels juvenile, like he’s your high school crush. like this is your first time. excitement bubbles up in your chest—dull but unmistakably there. maybe just this once, you let it surge. 

as if in a daze, matty slides the stray hair off your shoulder, brushing away the strands until your shoulder is bared to him and kisses the exposed skin. goosebumps erupt in its wake.

the whole affair is silent—just moans and sighs and the sound of his shuddering breath before he’s slipping into you, deeper and deeper until all you feel is him and his heartbeat.

“fucking perfect, so fucking perfect…” he chants and thrusts again. and again. and again till your breathing becomes ragged and your head loses every thought once again, and then he’s the only person to matter in the world. 

you’d die if he were to let go of you now. 

his grip on you tightens and his pace becomes faster, hips slamming into yours until you’re both moaning and panting, until your face in in the crook of his neck, mouth against his neck. the kisses excite him more, make him shiver in delight, and somehow you feel him grow harder inside you—streching you out till you’re nearly in tears and crying out from pleasure that is almost overwhelming. 

“matty, you’re—i’m—”

“can’t wait to feel you drenching my cock,” his voice turns into an unexpected growl and pleasure coils in your belly. his hand inches between your legs, fingers circling your clit until his thumb is pressing down on it once again and you mewl. his chest barely even stifles it. 

“please…” you beg and get swept away by another feverish kiss. your head spins and matty’s saying something, he’s fucking into you so hard that you can barely hear a word over the obscene, wet sounds. or maybe it’s the blood rushing through your whole body that drowns it out. 

none of it matters though, not when you feel white hot pleasure swirl through you and then you clench around him, hard enough that he cries out too. hard enough that you feel him cum despite the condom. and that’s what tips you over the edge. 

matty keeps going through it, slamming into you until he eventually slows down, until he eventually stills but doesn’t pull out. you keep your eyes closed, chest heaving, breath mixing with his, bodies pressed together so tightly that you can practically feel the rush of his blood under his skin. 

some pathetic part of your brain makes tears prick at your eyes and you finally open your eyes, taking just a second to look at his face. there are lines etches into his forehead now—deep grooves that used to be much softer. a reminder of all the time that’s passed. his sweaty curls stick to his forehead, much more grey than before. much messier. still, he's as beautiful as ever, as beautiful as a forbidden fruit. 

then he opens his eyes too and the breath truly gets knocked out of you. 

after all this time, his eyes are the same warm hazel. the same eyes you look into every day. mia’s eyes. matty’s eyes. 

for a moment, the room feels colder. the orange hue feels odd and unnatural but it’s just a trick of the light, just a trick of an overthinking mind.  

“we—”

“don’t,” you interrupt quickly. “please, just… let me stay like this. let me have this memory.”

matty hmms, then moves his hand to the back of your head, fingers in your hair until you feel something wet on your cheeks, on your shoulders. until you feel his body shaking. you don’t look up. you don’t try to console him either. you just stay like that, breathe him in until your lungs feel full enough to burst. 

you know how this ends. deep down, you’ve always known it. 

still, letting go of him feels like plunging a knife in your chest. 

there will be a part 3, this was getting too long.

lemme know what you think <33

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[milunalupin]

Could you do some regulus for valentines writing?

thank you for your patience, hope you enjoy :) and happy valentine's day to everyone <3

— candy grams

regulus black x reader ★ 772 words

The end of January was a cold and quiet time at Hogwarts. The holiday cheer has gone and winter truly makes itself known. Regulus Black found himself sitting in a empty nook in the Defense Against the Dark Arts Tower, going over his Ancient Runes essay. Shoes squeaked floors below as the other students ran outside to play. Fluffy snowflakes fell past the tall windows, Regulus' eyes flickering out the window every few minutes to watch the snowfall. If he allowed himself to, he might admit to liking this time of year. Winter meant cozy sweaters and hiding out in his dorm, reading muggle poetry books charmed to look like a spell book.

The chattering and laughter of students exiting their classes began to fill the halls, Regulus sighing softly as his peace and quiet had come to an end. He collected his things and stored them back in his satchel, making his way down the stairs past the Charms classroom. The way down to the Slytherin common room was a longer one but Regulus took his time as he was in no hurry.

A girl with a white ribbon in her hair rushed past him, but stopped and turned when she realized he was there, a smile quickly making it's way onto her face. Regulus had seen her around, a muggleborn witch with an affinity for all magical things.

"Hi! Sorry to bother you, I know you may be on your way to class or something important, but I'm selling candy grams for the upcoming holiday if you're interested in one?"

Candy gram? What the hell was a candy gram? Regulus supposed this is that 'dumb lovey muggle shit' Barty was talking about the other day. Walburga would be nothing less than disgusted if she found out he spent a single knut on a muggle object. He gives her a weird look and shook his head, declining silently.

"No worries! Have a lovely day!"

Her pretty smiled faltered but it came back up just as quick as it fell. She waved at him before dashing back down the stairs.

Regulus blinked, feeling his chest tighten slightly, shaking it off and continuing his path down to the dungeons.

Days have passed an Regulus is still wondering what a candy gram is. His mind continues to wander back to the girl and the ribbon in her hair as he leaves his last class of the day, spotting his brother's friend walking alone down the hall. He looked around to make sure no one of importance was watching him and quickly caught up to the tall Gryffindor.

"Lupin."

Remus turned in surprise as his best friend's little brother stands beside him. He notices what he believes to be nervousness masked by his composed stature.

"Regulus, can I help you?"

"What's a candy gram?"

Now Remus is truly confused. Why has Regulus Black stopped him and asked him what a candy gram is? He must have been making a strange face because Regulus glared up at him and crossed his arms.

"You're a half bre- blood, aren't you? If you don't know, then just forget any of this happened." He scoffed, waving his hand dismissively and turning to walk away. He only made it halfway down the hall when Remus called after him.

"It's for Valentine's Day. You buy candy for someone you care about, usually your friend, partner, or a crush."

Regulus' ears burn Gryffindor red as he walks away silently.

Regulus sees her again a week later. She had just returned from the Hogsmeade trip, white snowflakes sprinkled in her hair. Checking his surroundings, he carefully walked up to her as she spelled the snow off of her, quickly fixing his hair.

"Would you still happen to be selling those candy grams?" He asked, entranced by the small hairs framing her face that started to curl due to the snow.

"Absolutely! They're 15 sickles." She beamed, digging through her bag and pulling out a piece of candy with a little card attached. He handed her a few coins and opened the card up, following her finger as she pointed to two lines on the inside.

"You just write your name here, and then the person you're giving it to, here."

He stared down at the empty lines, then back at her with a small smile.

"I'm going to have to get your name then."

Her eyes widened, and Regulus had hoped it wasn't just the cold that turned her cheeks pink. Safe to say he's found another reason to like this time of year, and she wore a white ribbon in her hair.

[norman-fucking-reedus]

I'd hate myself if I didn't do something for Valentine's day so we're going to pretend it's not the day after!!! 🎀🎀

If nobody else is gonna bring back smoking during sex then goddamn it I will

STAINED RED

Valentines day with Daryl Dixon, your own way.

Happy Valentines Day - D.D

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

You hummed to yourself as your hands brushed and curled your hair, making sure it looked just right for the night ahead. It was Valentine's day and you so badly wanted to celebrate it with Daryl, which is why you had planned the romantic night the day that Eugene had made the announcement that the holiday was in a week. It gave you enough time to find and decide on what to get him, stumbling upon a department store on one of your secret runs.

The first half of his gift was a red button-up to match the other half, which was the skimpy party dress you had on, one you knew would drive him insane. You also made him a card with crayons, considering the two of you didn't talk much about gifts.

Standing in front of the full body mirror, running your hands down your sides as you turned around, checking yourself out. The way the dress hugged your hips, complimented by the heels you had on, fuck you turning yourself on.

The oven timer went off downstairs, and you quickly dragged some lipstick over your plush lips, a dark red in contrast to the lighter fabric. Your heels clicked against the hardwood floor as you carefully went down the stairs, grabbing the oven mitt and opening the oven, poking the meat with a knife.

Daryl was supposed to be coming any minute, agreeing to get ready at Carol's house so the two of you would keep your clothes on.

The table was already set and the scent from some of the candles set a warm ambiance, the added smell of cooked venison. You cut the meat into slices, plating the thick pieces next to some mixed vegetables and a scoop of mashed potatoes, topped with brown gravy.

You poured two cups of wine and tuned the ratty radio until it landed on a smooth jazz station. As you did that, the front door creaked open and you turned to see Daryl, heart pounding as he looked so damn good in red. "Hot damn girl" He whispered breathlessly, closing the door behind him as he stepped forward, placing a hand on your waist as his eyes raked your whole body. "Could say the same for you, handsome" You giggled and Daryl's heartbeat stopped for a second, your smile standing out much more with the lipstick. "What'cha hidin?" Your eyes flickered down to his one hand behind his back. He smirked and revealed a large black bag.

He handed it to you silently, watching your face contort as you opened it and were hit with an intense smell of weed, the smell immediately filling the room. "Where did you-?" You walked over to the counter and pulled a sticky bud out, heels clacking as you fished around for something to smoke with. "I still wanted ta get ya some flowers, but I found flower instead" Daryl eyed the plates of food but moved his gaze up to your figure, licking his lips as he once again drank in the sight of you in that dress.

The feeling of rolling the bud pieces into a thin piece of paper was one you truly missed, dragging your tongue across the edge and pinching it shut, turning to Daryl with the newly rolled joint hanging from your lips. He fished out the lighter that he always kept on him and held your hip as he held it, watching you take a deep, long pull before plucking it out your mouth, coming close to Daryl as if to kiss him, blowing the smoke past his parted lips then holding the joint up to them.

"The food is getting cold" You whispered, watching him take a long drag of his own before pulling the joint away, the dining room becoming hazy with smoke. "Microwave 'em real quick" Daryl mumbled, taking another hit before you snatched it out his mouth, sticking it in your own and turning to heat the food up. "Sit down, Dixon" You slammed the microwave door shut and started it for a few minutes, heels clicking as you walked over to Daryl and straddled his lap, taking a finally hit before dropping the butt onto the floor, stomping it out as you pulled Daryl by his collar and clashed your lips together, exhaling the smoke into his mouth along with the air, kissing his jaw and neck as he coughed. "Ya smearin' yer lipstick" Daryl cleared his throat as you looked at him, dark lipstick in fact smeared onto your cheek. It was worth it, considering Daryl's skin was littered in red kiss marks.

You gave him one final kiss, going to retrieve the plates of food out the microwave. As the weed was really starting to flow through your system, your stomach rumbled as the smell of meat filled the air again, not strong enough to over power the joint.

Daryl wondered how he got so lucky with you each time he ate your food, the taste even better with his heightened senses. "M'gon marry you" He spoke around a mouthful of potatoes, staring at you with lidded reddening eyes. You leaned your head against your hand as you ran your heel up his shin. "Dude, we're like, already married" You laughed while finishing off your vegetables, stuffing a piece of venison into your mouth. Your heel kicked his shin, trailing up it a few time before Daryl reached and blindly yanked it, lurching you forward into the table and knocking over the forgotten wine glasses.

“This was supposed to be romantic” You pounded your fists on the table, not actually angry. Daryl shrugged, teeth pulling at a tougher piece of meat. “Still romantic just in our own way. Ya did real good gorgeous” He leaned back in the chair as he winked at you, undoing the first few buttons of that sinful shirt. You suddenly remembered you didn’t have on any underwear, cunt starting to throb. “M’gonna roll another” You gathered the fallen cups and your empty plate as you did, taking Daryl’s and snagging his last piece. He couldn’t argue, not with the way your legs moved and your hips swayed.

Daryl ran a hand through his hair, much curlier and softer since he took a really long shower before coming here, even adding some cologne Carol had mysteriously given him. He thought you hadn’t noticed it, but you did, and you wanted to smell him up close and personally. You become absolutely feral when your man was smelling and looking clean.

You came back with a much bulker and longer joint, once again straddling Daryl’s lap as he brought the lighter to the end, and a hand to your hip.

He watched your blood red lips as they took a deep and somehow sensual pull, so long that a chunk of burnt ash fell from the end, you quickly swatting it out the way so it didn’t land on your husband. You coughed as Daryl plucked the joint from you and brought it to his own lips, eyes lingering on the lipstick stain forming around the filter. He knew there were similar stains forming on his skin, especially as you kissed and sucked at his neck, grinding your hips down in the process.

Daryl leaned his head back as he continued taking drags from the joint, groaning softly as you lavashed his throat, hands drowning in his soft hair. You could feel his bulge right in between your dripping folds, and ground down hair, moaning as your clit rubbed against him. His free hand rested on your hip, roaming up your waist and travel down the swell of your ass, feeling how your tight dress had rode up to reveal your bare cheeks. “Got dessert already waitin’ fer me?” He picked his head up, bringing the joint to your lips as he lifted you onto the table, kneeling in front of you as you spread your legs, which he threw over his shoulders.

A wanton moan came from your chest as Daryl’s tongue was on you instantly, your hand gripping his hair as the other held the joint, occasionally tossing your head back and hitting it, releasing the smoke with a deep pleasured groan. Your whole body buzzed with warmth and fire as Daryl’s tongue worked between your folds, slipping into your hole before pulling out and moving to lap at your clit once more. His own cock throbbed and pulsated in his pants, the taste of your cunt so much sweeter on his high tastebuds.

He licked and slurped at your folds as if he hadn’t eaten minutes prior, tongue coming up to your clit only to suction his lips around it, beginning to suck as his fingers came to tease your folds.

You whimpered as the thick digits slid in, roach of a joint pinched tightly between your fingers. Your eyes rolled back as Daryl started to thrust and curl his fingers slowly but steadily, sending fire through your body. It felt so good but you just needed more, yanking Daryl’s head back. “Bend me over this goddamn table” You said more breathlessly than intended, jerking slightly when Daryl pulled his fingers out and rose to his feet, hovering over you and pressed his cock against your still stimulated cunt. “Yes ma’am” He whispered deep from his chest as he softly kissed you, pushing you to lean further back as he freed his hard cock, groaning into each other’s mouth when the tip slapped against your clit. His hand dragged the head between your folds, not wasting anytime as he fully rammed himself inside, your jaw going slack as it knocked the wind out you.

Daryl readjusted your legs on his hips, slowly rocking before quickly building speed, a deep moan in your chest as his cock easily thrusted into your sweet spot, each one getting increasingly quicker. “Oh God baby just like that” You dropped your head down to shut your eyes, but they caught on where Daryl was sliding in and out of you. He leaned his head against yours to watch as well, hands groping your waist. “M’gonna fuck yer brain out” You bit your lips and gripped the back of his neck. “That’s all I want you to do”

At those words, he pulled away from you suddenly, throbbing cunt clenching desperately around nothing until Daryl flipped you onto your stomch, collecting your curled hair into a sloppy hand held ponytail and yanking you back onto his cock, sliding so so much deeper than before, resuming his pace at higher velocity, moans beginning to uncontrollably fall from your smeared lips. “My lil valentine all nice ‘nd stuffed, gonna give ya lottas cum, kay?” Daryl’s words were going straight to his dick and into your cunt, eyes rolling into the back of your goddamn skull when he yanked you back by the hair, hand releasing the strands only to wrap around your throat, each strangle gasp and cry vibrated under his palm. He really could snap your delicate neck, not that he would but fuck if you wouldn’t let him.

He leaned down so that you could be flush against his chest, other hand grabbing your hip and occasionally sliding up to the bunched up fabric of your dress. He kept his hand comfortably tight around you, kissing and licking your bare shoulders. His hips sped up as he continued marking your skin, groping you hip as the hand around your throat tighten. You knew he was close, and you were almost off the edge yourself, so close, so close until you were toppling over, broken and choked moans coming from your lips. Daryl’s hips slowed to a stop, and he moved to release your throat but was stopped by your hand. “What happened to ‘lotts of cum’? I want my guts scrambled all night, Mr.Dixon” You turned to him and pouted, clenching around his still hard cock. He hummed, before pulling out and once again flipping you over, only you yelped as he fell down onto the seat with you in his grasp, fully seating you down onto his cock. “Ride me, gorgeous” Daryl gripped your hips, smiling up at you as curls fell into his face. His cheeks, jaw and lips all adorned dark red smooch marks, along with his neck and the hickies sucked into the skin.

Your man was just too fucking fine, gripping his face and licking into his mouth, beginning to bounce as he happily allowed you entrance, tongues pressing against one another as you slid your finger tips into his hair, heels firmly on the ground as your hips increased their pace. You pulled away from Daryl, a string of saliva still connecting your lips before your head lulled to the side, hand eagerly tugging your straps off and grabbing your tits, lewding moaning as you squeezed and pinched your nipples, grinding down and bouncing harder down.

One of your hands slid down and began rubbing circles in your clit. With the hand still rolling your boob, you grabbed Daryl’s face and shove it between your squishy tits, wildly moaning as you stimulated your whole cunt, cock hitting such a soft and sensitive spot inside you. “Love when ya take control ta get wha’ ya want” Daryl mumbled into the soft skin of your breasts, bringing the one your fingers pulled at into his mouth, feeling the way you convulsed around him, moaning as your hips stuttered and head dropped against Daryl’s shoulder. Your hand pulled from your sensitive cunt, however you stayed seat on Daryl’s cock.

It was quiet for a few moments, before your lips were trailing the side of his jaw. “Still not done, woman?” Daryl ran his hands up your side, rolling his hips up into you. “Nope. Carry me into the bedroom. Bring my weed” You giggled against him, legs wrapping around him when he rose to his feet, cock still buried deep inside. “Happy Valentines day m’beloved” He whispered taking only a few steps before pinning you against a wall, unleashing an attack on your neck as he started to move his hips, smiling softly against your skin as he did. You were in for a long, long night.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★

[azriels-shadowsinger]

Valentines Day with the Bat Boys

I know valentines day isn’t a thing in Prythian, but if it was, this is how I think Rhys, Cass, and Az would celebrate with you! 💌

Rhysand

Rhys asked you to be his valentine before it was even February. He has been looking forward to this day since winter solstice, because a month and a half is way too long without giving you a gift.

This man looks for any reason to celebrate you and spoil you, so he went all out on valentines day. Expensive flowers, fancy chocolates, gorgeous jewelry, anything he can find that he thinks you might like honestly, the bigger the better. He even rented out an entire restaurant for just you two. Also, he definitely bought you several new pieces of lingerie.

———

Cassian

Cassian asked you to be his valentine on February 13th. Obviously not because he didn’t care, but because he truly didn’t know he had to ask, he assumed you were already his valentine since you two are mates. You pretended to be mad for all of 3 minutes before you felt too bad making him feel guilty.

Cassian loves going the cheesy route for valentines. Teddy bears, balloons, and rose petals leading to your room. He was probably in the valentines aisle for over an hour making sure he got the best gifts.

———

Azriel

Azriel, much like Cassian, didn’t know he was supposed to ask, but he figured it out much sooner than his brother, because his shadows overheard you talking about it with your friends.

In typical Azriel fashion, he likes an intimate evening. Candle lit dinner, small yet meaningful gifts, and lots of quality time. He definitely hand wrote a love letter for you and it made you cry. Since he is often on missions or doing spy work, you two stay up talking and making love all night until sunrise, just appreciating the time alone with each other.

[liaromancewriter]

I Thee Wed…

Premise: Ethan and Cassie are ready to say, ‘I do,’ but they forget one important step.

Book: Open Heart (post series) Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine) Rating/Category: Teen. Fluff. Words: 1,560

A/N: So, I first did Ethan and Cassie's wedding in June 2021. In all that time, I've never written their wedding vows. Maxenna's vows were easier to write. Well, I finally cracked this nut! Yay, me 🎉

Submission for @choicesaugustchallenge prompt "summer wedding"

Cassie Valentine updated the patient chart and mentally crossed off another item from her seemingly endless to-do list. In just nine days, she would stand in the garden of her family home and marry her soulmate.

She couldn’t contain a small, excited scream, a dreamy smile spreading across her face as she imagined Ethan’s awestruck expression when she glided toward him at the floral-decked altar. But, she thought with a smirk, she couldn’t wait to knock him over on their wedding night with what she had on beneath the layers of tulle.

All in good time, Cassie reasoned, turning her attention back to work.

“Marlene?” she called to one of the regular nurses on her floor, handing over the tablet with the patient record. “Keep an eye on potassium levels for Mr. Dubois in 504. Page me if there’s any change in his condition.”

“Will do, Dr. Valentine,” Marlene nodded, scanning the chart quickly to confirm the orders.

She flashed Cassie a friendly smile. “Are you excited about the wedding? You and Dr. Ramsey make such a beautiful couple.”

“I’m counting the minutes,” Cassie grinned. “I have a final fitting for the dress next week, but otherwise, we’re all set.”

“Summer weddings are the best,” another nurse piped in. “Flowers are my favorite part.”

“I love hearing the couple’s vows,” Marlene said. “Are you and Dr. Ramsey writing your own?”

Cassie nodded in response, keeping her expression smooth even as alarm bells blared inside her head. Crap, crap, crap!

Between work, packing up her things at the apartment for the move to Ethan’s and coordinating with Sienna and her mom on the wedding, she had forgotten entirely about the vows.

She and Ethan had negotiated a hybrid ceremony, honoring her Episcopalian beliefs and his agnostic ones. He had agreed to have a priest officiate and receive a spiritual blessing in exchange for non-religious but personal vows, no Communion, hymns or readings.

Writing their own vows had sounded so simple before. A few words of promise, a declaration of their love, exchange rings and you-may-kiss-the-bride. End scene.

But now she realized it was anything but easy. Worse, she had no idea what she would say on the most important day of her life!

The pen dug into the paper, leaving dark, jagged lines on the legal pad as Ethan scratched out yet another sentence. His handwriting, usually neat and precise despite the doctor-like scrawl, had turned into a chaotic mess of crossed-out words and half-formed thoughts. Frustration simmered in his chest, his mind spinning as he tried to wrestle his emotions into something coherent.

He sighed, leaned back in his chair, and rubbed his temple. Sitting through a room full of demanding board members was a walk in the park compared to this. How was he supposed to find the words powerful enough to capture the depth of what he felt for Cassie?

Each attempt felt clumsy and inadequate, the words slipping away from him no matter how hard he tried. Irritated with himself, he muttered a curse under his breath, tearing the paper from the pad and crumpling it into a tight ball. It joined the other pieces of crumpled paper balls scattered around him.

Why had he insisted on their own vows? Should’ve just taken a template and been done with it.

He had been working on them all week and was no closer to the finish line. He had tried writing at home, in his office with the door closed and on a bench in the serenity garden at Edenbrook. Eventually, he retreated to Derry’s Coffee Shop in the hope that a place special to them both would inspire him.

The wedding was a week away, and he did not relish the idea of standing at the altar with nothing more to say than “I do” while Cassie no doubt recited something meaningful about him being her soulmate.

“Tough case?”

Startled, Ethan looked up to find Cassie standing above him.

He had been so absorbed in his frustrated scribbling that he hadn’t even noticed her enter the coffee shop, place her order and walk over to him.

“You could say that,” he hedged, hoping she wouldn’t press for more.

“Maybe I can help,” she suggested, sliding into the seat across from him.

Before he could stop her, she reached for the pad, and he blurted out, “No!” even as she read the words out loud.

“Cassie, my love for you is like an unspecified virus that I couldn’t shake….”

Ethan saw the look of shock on Cassie’s face. Her eyes widened, and her mouth opened slightly. For a moment, they just stared at each other in stunned silence.

“Wait, are these your wedding vows? And did you just compare me to a virus?”

Ethan quickly tried to recover, realizing how the words sounded when said aloud. “I—I didn’t mean it like that. What I’m trying to say is that my love for you is something I never expected, something that took hold of me and changed everything.”

Cassie blinked, and then, to his relief, a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “Babe, I appreciate the on-brand medical analogy, especially since I diagnosed Naveen’s bacteriophage, but maybe we can find a less…clinical way to describe it? This is our wedding, after all, not a keynote at the AMA annual symposium.”

“A keynote at the AMA would be easier than these damn vows,” Ethan muttered, running an exasperated hand through his hair.

He picked up his coffee and looked at her over the rim. “I suppose you’ve already written a masterpiece?”

To his surprise, Cassie blushed and looked away. “Not exactly. If you must know, I kind of forgot about them.”

She waved one hand dismissively. “Anyway, this isn’t about me. If you’re struggling, just focus on us, our relationship—what makes me the one for you? How you see our life together. Things like that.”

Ethan narrowed his eyes. “That’s some solid advice.” He reached for his phone, unlocking the screen. “In fact, it’s almost identical to the advice I got from another Valentine just a couple of hours ago. Ah, here it is.” He turned the screen to show her the text from Max.

Cassie’s eyes widened in disbelief. “That cheat!” She snatched the phone from Ethan’s hand, scrolling up to check the time stamp. It was from earlier in the day before she’d texted her brother. “He totally copy-pasted his response to me!”

Ethan chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Looks like great minds think alike…or at least steal from each other. When did you speak to him?”

Cassie gave him a sheepish look. “Maybe half an hour ago. ”

“Isn’t it the middle of the night where he is?”

She rolled her eyes and made a face. “I know. Max wasn’t thrilled, which is probably why I ended up with recycled advice.”

She straightened in her chair, a hint of frustration in her voice. “I can’t seem to find the right words for our vows. At least you managed to compare me to a virus—I’ve got a completely blank page.”

Ethan chuckled softly, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand gently. “How about we work on them together? We always did our best work figuring out diagnostic differentials as a team. Why should wedding vows be any different?”

Cassie’s smile widened. “Just promise you won’t tell my mother this is how we wrote our vows, or I’ll have to call you a big, fat liar!”

“Deal.”

Nine days later…

Ethan faced Cassie, a deep contentment settling over him, unlike anything he’d ever felt before. As he held her hands in his, the words that once eluded him now flowed as naturally as breathing.

“Cassie, when I first met you, I had no idea we’d end up here, but from that moment on, you’ve captivated me in ways I never imagined. You’ve challenged me, frustrated me and inspired me to be a better person. And I've fallen in love with you again and again, even though I didn’t believe love or family were in the cards for me. You opened my heart to more. I promise to support and encourage you, embrace the unexpected with you, and always work on being the best version of myself for you. I vow to hold your hand and cherish your heart, loving you always and forever.”

Cassie flashed a mischievous grin, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she held Ethan’s gaze, recalling the day they wrote these vows. Her voice was light and playful as she began, making it clear she was savoring every moment.

“Ethan, from the moment you walked into my life—full of arrogance, calling me an amateur—everything changed in ways I never could have predicted. I told you then I was your biggest fan, but that barely scratched the surface of my feelings for you. I can’t imagine a single day without you, and I hope I never do. I promise to stand by your side, to love you fiercely—even when you’re driving me a little crazy—and to choose you every day, no matter what. You are my partner, my soulmate and my greatest adventure. I vow to cherish your heart with all that I am, always and forever.”

And then they lived happily ever after…

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

All Fics & Edits: @bluebelle08 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @jerzwriter @lady-calypso

@mainstreetreader @peonierose @potionsprefect @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16

@justyourusualash @tessa-liam @liaficreplies @trappedinfanfiction

Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Ethan & Cassie only: @cariantha @custaroonie @youlookappropriate

[maitanii]

this is just a little scene after about you that i didn't add because i liked how i ended it :) enjoy &lt;3

— YOU FEEL YOUR LEGS TREMBLE SLIGHTLY. You're not even entirely sure of what you're about to do. The faint smile on Inui's face conveys some confidence, but you know he's trying to persuade you not to go through with your idea. After all, half a year is more than enough to understand the tactics he uses to get his way.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yes."

"You don't have to prove anything to me, okay? We can go to that café you love. I'll treat you to the pistachio New York Roll; I know you're dying to try it."

You fiddle nervously with the helmet straps in your hands. You weren't afraid of riding a motorcycle; Draken gave you lessons two or three times a month (to your mother's dismay). But the idea of taking Inupi on the back does make you a bit more nervous. You take a deep breath before giving your boyfriend a confident look. He's wearing the leather jacket you gave him for Valentine's Day and a plaid shirt underneath. You won't waste a single minute of this special day.

Carefully adjusting the helmet, you make sure it's properly in place before heading towards the motorcycle parked in front of you. Inupi watches you calmly. Lately, it seems like nothing can disturb him.

"Ready?" Inupi asks while putting on his helmet. His eyes reveal a hint of excitementthat makes you smile.

You nod, trying to appear more confident than you feel. You get on the bike carefully, feeling the added weight and recalling Draken's instructions on how to balance the vehicle with a passenger.

Inupi wraps his arms around your waist and lightly strokes your abdomen with his thumb. You suppose it's his way of reassuring you, and although it makes you shiver a bit, you feel comforted by his closeness. Although a helmet covered almost all of his face, you knew that the corners of his lips were raised, forming a smile. A smile he used when both of you were working, and he would drop a false piece of information that you ended up believing. A smile he used when some customer flirted with you, and you sought help with just a glance.

You start the engine and pull away slowly, feeling adrenaline mixed with nervousness coursing through your body.

"I hope today's date ends at the café and not at the hospital," Inui comments as he feels you accelerate.

"You know what? You're right, maybe one of us will end up in the hospital"

The wind gently hits your face as you navigate the streets. Inupi points out familiar places, recalling funny anecdotes to distract you from your nerves. Little by little, you begin to relax, letting the excitement of the adventure overpower the initial insecurity.

The journey goes smoothly, and upon reaching the café, both of you get off the bike with a smile. You take off your helmet, feeling proud.

"What? What do you have to say about my incredible driving skills?" Holding the helmet on one side of your waist, you smiled widely, looking at your boyfriend. "I've left you speechless, huh? Now you "

"You ran a red light."

"What?" All excitement vanished like gunpowder. "Sei, what are you saying? That can't be. I've been attentive the whole way."

Leaving the helmet on the seat, you run your hands through your hair. It couldn't be possible; you had studied the route a thousand times. There was no—

"Seishu, idiot!" You lightly slapped his arm. "We didn't pass by any traffic lights on the way here."

A grin spread across the blond's face.

"Well," he held out his palms for a high-five, "congrats on been attentive, you deserve a reward."

"With you, I deserve more than one, honestly." Passing by his figure, you began to walk towards the establishment. Lowering his outstretched arms, the young man jogged closer to you.

"Come on, don't be mad." Despite trying to speak seriously, the mischievous tone didn't leave his voice.

"But did I do it right?" Standing at the restaurant's door, you turned to look him in the eyes.

"Not even I could drive better. And that's saying something." Approaching you, the blonde placed an arm around your shoulders and planted a kiss on your forehead. "However, you forgot to lock the motorcycle. And I would appreciate coming back home with my girlfriend and with my bike".

next thing i'll post is kokonui conent, so be prepared >:) bye! &lt;3

[boba-beom]

❦ With You | K.TH

pairing: taehyun x f!reader

genre: fluff, bestfriends to lovers | oneshot

warning(s): senior year high school, set in 1984, relationship to be established, confessions, ft. the rest of txt, taehyun’s a lil nervous <3, yn a little bold, kisses.

summary: before the school term comes to a close for the festive holidays, your best friend of four years had asked you to go to the winter ball with him. however, there’s one more thing he wants to tell you.

wc: 2.3k

note: inspired by the last scene in s2 ep9 of stranger things. and the song ‘Every Breath You Take’ by The Police was perfect after I remembered taehyun talking about it and playing it on one of his vlives at the time :’) this was also written a while ago but I edited it a little and wanted to post this as my last taehyun fic to end tyun month :> thank you again @fairybinie for beta reading and for the advice 🫶🏼

SHORT PLAYLIST (recommended)

the hazy, vertical streaks from the moonlight passes through the open blinds, caressing over taehyun's face as his sister, hyunjae, straightens out the frills of his collar and adjusts the flimsy ribbon after. he turns his body, puffing in front of the mirror, loosening the tension and nervousness in his wrists, tilting his head left and right.

"aw, my not-so-little brother knows how to clean up well." hyunjae coos, lightly patting the top of his head.

"agh, you're gonna mess up my hair!" he swats her hands away, caving over his hair before fidgeting with the front pieces of his hair, making sure they would stay in place until he meets his date.

"so... are you gonna ask her today?"

the young male adjusts his outer coat, brows scrunching as he looks at his sister through the mirror, "ask who?"

"yn? aren't you going to ask her to dance with you tonight?" she sighs as she pinches the bridge of her nose, thinking how her brother could possibly be lacking in basic knowledge of making the first move—especially with his crush.

if there's one thing taehyun is good at, it's definitely being oblivious towards any female kind and their attempt to flirt with him. he's never dated, he's only confessed to one girl in middle school when he gifted her a heart-shaped box of chocolates. she accepted them, but refused to be his valentine, and since then he's never wanted to embarrass himself like that again.

"of course I'll ask her to dance with me. she's my date anyway, and I should tell her then..." he trails his words, thinking about what he would say once he finds the right moment later on in the evening, "I just hope a good song comes on." as cliché as that may sound.

hyunjae sees how anxious he is as he lets out a deep sigh. both their heads turn towards the open window from the sound of a car's triple beep in front of their house. the loud noise was soon followed by a few male voices shouting out his name, almost chant-like.

"good luck, 'lil man." hyunjae reaches out to pat his hair once again, but misses as he ducks and opens the front door.

"ayeeee, someone looks dashing tonight!" beomgyu screams with the upper half of his body out of the window. the other three males starts cheering and whistling as taehyun approaches the car with long, confident strides.

opening the door behind the driver's seat, he sits comfortably as he looks at the rest of them, "not too shabby yourselves guys." he chuckles, buckling his seatbelt.

"how are we feeling, boys?" yeonjun laughs, excitement clear in his voice. he briefly locks eyes with taehyun through the rear mirror, expecting him to answer the question.

"i just hope she doesn't reject me." taehyun speaks without hesitation. kai and beomgyu looks at him with their brows stitched together.

"are you kidding me? i'm sure she won't reject you, it's yn we're talking about." beomgyu sighs.

"and what's that supposed to mean?"

"that you have to be really dense to think she has no interest in you." soobin butts in, looking back at him from the passenger seat.

"he's book smart, just not girl smart." kai joins in.

"okay, okay. that's enough guys. i'm sure our boy can manage." yeonjun cuts off their bombarding banter towards taehyun.

taehyun rolls his eyes at his friends' continuous teasing, completely ignoring yeonjun. the topic for conversation slowly went round to each person—and about their dates—until they arrived at the venue for the winter ball.

the group of five made their way towards the entrance, keeping their eyes out for their dates. it was convenient that majority of their dates arrived together, as expected when asking people from the same friend-group. taehyun watches his friends greet their dates and entering in with linked arms, their outfits complimenting each other's nicely.

"we're gonna go ahead." soobin firmly pats taehyun's shoulder as he nods in response.

a few minutes passes by and taehyun is still standing by the entrance, yet his posture never fails him. he looks down at the cuffs of his black dress shirt, adjusting them out of restlessness, in the hopes he hasn't been turned down.

"taehyun? sorry i'm late." a soft voice speaks.

from the cuffs of his sleeves, he sees a shiny pair of white, mary jane pumps pointing towards him in his line of vision, less than half a meter away from his own black, dress shoes.

lifting his head slowly, his eyes travel up the figure in front of him; skin-toned stockings visible until the thin layer of white chiffon material just about lingers by the knees. he looks up to admire you in your entirety, a sweetheart neckline accentuating the length of your neck with a dainty pearl necklace sitting prettily at the base of your neck.

"yn," his voice almost breathless, "you look beautiful."

you chuckle at his compliment, looking down at the ground before your fingers subconsciously fiddles with the pearl strap of your purse.

"you don't look too bad either, kang."

he smiles at your implied compliment, holding out his arm for you to take, "shall we?"

as soon as the both of you walk through the tinsel curtain, you're met with snowflake-shaped lights projecting on the ground. your peers' arms are linked with their dates while they meet up in groups and you do the same.

you meet with a few friends, separating yourself from taehyun while he went to see his friends too. long conversations were made, and pictures were taken at the open photo booth that the school had hired for the evening. there were props and multiple photos could be taken so you were willing to try it out.

taehyun is sitting at his designated seat on the same table as his friends, locking eyes with you for a split second from across the room before you start making your way through the sea of students.

as you make a bee-line towards him, your eyes are trained on him, getting closer and closer. his side profile was stunning; his sharp jawline in full display as he slightly leans over the table to talk to yeonjun opposite him, and with every laugh, you saw the occasional appearance of his sharp canines which showcased his dimple.

in your four years of high school, you never found anyone just as handsome as kang taehyun himself. and you granted yourself lucky to have him as your best friend.

you approach his seat, resting a light hand on his shoulder until the boys stopped talking, causing taehyun to look up at you.

"hey, want to take a photo together over at the photo booth with me?" the freckles of light from the disco ball sparkles over your face, looking almost angelic as he gets up on his feet.

"that's our boy!"

"go taehyun!"

you hear beomgyu and kai exclaim along with the others as you take ahold of taehyun's hand in yours. taehyun could only pray that you don't look back at him because only then would you see how enamoured he is by you. the heat from his cheeks quickly spread and made its way to the tips of his ears—he's in too deep.

opening the curtains to the photo booth, he picks up a white feather boa and loosely twirls it around your neck accompanied with a quiet laugh from you. in return, you pick up a black masquerade mask for him to wear, only making his full attire look more complete than it already was.

you continue shuffling, making sure you were in the middle of the photo booth, "come closer." you speak up, gently tugging on his sleeve making him shuffle closer to you until he reluctantly resorted to resting his hand on the small of your back.

"i- is this okay?" taehyun was always wary of his hand placements, you knew that and you were more than comfortable with being this close to him.

"perfect, these photos are gonna look really nice." you're smiling at the photographer, posing your wrist as you splay your palm open and the end of the boa hanging off it. all while taehyun looks at you in awe. you've always been one to try new things, even putting yourself out there and not giving a single care to what people think of you. he found that quality admirable, really.

after a few more pictures were taken, and keeping the same props, it was time for the last photo.

"tyun, look at me." you whisper.

he turns his head to face you, your faces within centimetres apart until your noses brushed against each other. you hold the end of his chin still with your index finger and your thumb, closing your eyes, he mimics you until you feel the softness of his lips against yours, it was almost euphoric.

you just kissed your best friend.

the sound of the photographer snapping the last shot interrupted the momentary trance you were both in, the flash visible through your eyelids.

"we'll get them later, let's go." you pull back and hold his hand again. he was trailing after you while you make your way towards the bowl of fruit punch.

"so how did your photos go?" beomgyu comes into view beside you, passing the both of you already full cups of the punch.

taehyun stays silent, taking a sip from the drink while his other hand is still holding yours.

"it was fun, i think you should try it out. i heard there's more props if you ask the photographer." you take a sip from the drink, keeping eye contact with beomgyu while you watch his eyes flick back and forth between you and your date.

"if you say so," he says, walking away with a small smile tugging at his lips.

a new song fills the room, a song that only released last year. you remember hearing it a few times on your parents' radio and it being one of the most replayed songs since it was released. your peers and their partners gather onto the dance floor, girls with their arms draped over their date's shoulder, and some guys nervously resting their hands on their date's waist.

perfect. taehyun clears his throat before taking away your cup and placing both of them down on the closest table. he lifts a hand up, the other tucked behind his back as he asks, "yn, would you perhaps want to dance with me?"

you observe the way he's slightly bowing in front of you, your heart fluttering in your chest from his chivalrous gesture. "perhaps I do, kang." you say as you accept his hand, leading you onto the empty spot on the dance floor.

the lights dimmed down a little more than before, only the ambient lighting from the decorations and the disco ball reflected onto your faces. taehyun's hands were fumbling with the material around your waist, you could tell he was nervous but you wanted him to be comfortable with you like he always is. the only difference this time is that you're both dressed up and he hardly ever sees you dressed up.

"hey, ease into it. left then right, remember?" you reassure him after he visited your house one time and your older brother teased you about dancing with taehyun. your mother made sure to teach both of you the basics.

you hold onto one of his hands on your waist, letting his palm relax against you then letting go and bringing yourself closer so you could rest and bend your elbows over his shoulder, your temples leaning against each other.

a couple of minutes into the slow dancing made you feel so weightless. the strong scent of his cologne lingering by your nose, his soft and controlled breathing in front of you just felt so comforting. your faces were centimetres apart, no different than before, but both your eyes were briefly shut.

"yn?" taehyun speaks up softly, and you hum back in response. "there's something i've been meaning to tell you."

"mhm? and what is that?" you pull back to look at one of the features you love on his face. it's just one of those instances where you capture how his eyes could quite literally encapsulate the entire galaxy if possible.

"as a best friend, you're amazing, truly." he starts. you huff out an airy chuckle with your fixed attention on him. "but I want to get to know you beyond that. I really like you, yn. more than words could ever explain."

your eyes soften from his confession, knowing this was your best friend since freshman year and without a doubt, you were feeling quite the same.

"can i be your boyfriend?" he asks, head slightly tilting down to read your expression.

you pull him towards you, closing the proximity until your lips were just about grazing against each other. "i would love you to be my boyfriend, kang taehyun." you whisper before closing the gap and giving him a longer kiss than at the photo booth. he securely wraps his arms around your waist, chests colliding until your lips part.

"you really thought after i kissed you back there i'd say no?" you nudge his shoulder, catching his cheeks flush the smallest pink hues you could see.

"i really wasn't sure what that was, but if it's a kiss from you then i don't really mind." he shrugs nonchalantly.

"so i could say no as long as i give you kisses?" you tease him back.

"well... not quite, i want both." he shyly smiles with his dimples caving in his cheeks.

you peck his cheek in response to comment, "you really are cute, kang taehyun."

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© boba-beom ; all rights reserved. do not repost, copy, alter or translate in any way or platform.

[k-slla]

You'll forever be my always

A/N: So this was supposed to be posted for Valentine's day, but here we are, almost week later😅

This also turned out differently than I had initially planned, but I still hope you'll like it! 🩷

Big big thanks to @nescavaneck for helping me choose the song for this fic! 🤍

Warnings: smut, bit of language, food foreplay (nothing major, just a little cream and cake), fluff and that's it I think

WC: 2.6k | My Masterlist

All mistakes are mine!

You had a plan. An ironclad plan to make Dean love Valentine's day. You were 99% percent sure that it would work, because Dean loves you and Dean loves food. Maybe even a bit more than he loves you. He had done some shady things for a piece of pie before that you'd rather try and forget. But right now he was not a fan of the aforementioned holiday and you wanted to change that.

Everything had been set already in the Dean cave - you tried to create a romantic atmosphere with small string lights and a couple of candles and you even put on some music in the background.

You kept it simple and light on the food side, since you weren’t really sure how Dean would react to this and you still wished to get to the “main course” later on without feeling too full - so onto the table you had chosen strawberries & whipped cream, mini raspberry cupcakes and finally couple of mini champagne bottles. It was still a night of celebration.

Sam had agreed beforehand to leave you two alone in the Bunker and went to a motel nearby. You felt bad about driving him out, but you knew you couldn't fully let yourself go, knowing that Sam was home. So he was just dropping Dean off after the hunt before leaving.

You had just gotten changed into your dark red lingerie and a matching robe and were waiting for Dean to come home, when you heard the door close with a loud thud.

“Y/N? Where are you?” Heavy stomps followed his call-outs for you. You knew he'd check for you first in your bedroom, so you left there a little note “follow the kisses” and lead the way across the Bunker with Hershey's kisses to the room, where you were waiting for him with all the desserts. You knew it was cheesy, but that's what tonight was all about. After a little time, you heard Dean getting closer to you.

The anticipation was sky high as he stood on the door, eyes darkening with immediate desire as he saw you half-naked on the plush carpet. “I thought we agreed..” he started protesting, but you cut him off quickly. “I know, babe, but I still wanted to do this for you. Us. It's for both of us.” You said with a sweet smile on your lips. “It's nothing much, just some snacks.”

He looked around the room, biting his lip, before throwing the bag off his shoulder before lunging towards you, pushing you down to the floor. He hovered above you, eyes running all over your body. “You are a snack, Y/N.” You bursted out laughing. “You're so cheesy.” He lowered himself down, catching your mouth into a slow, sensuous kiss, making you dizzy immediately. When he finally pulled away, you felt like you could breathe again. “Yeah, but you love it.”

You smiled up at him widely. “I do.”

He looked at the table you had set up, clearly planning something for you, or more rather for himself. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he pulled open your robe, revealing your lacy lingerie. Goosebumps traveled along your body with his fingers moving over your breasts, pulling down the thin fabric covering them and squeezed lightly. “Hmm…a snack indeed. And all..” he kissed your left breast. “For me.” Soft pecks landed on the other. He really wasn't wasting his time.

Humming quietly, he reached for the whipped cream on the table, picked up a dollop with his finger and smeared it onto your nipples. A devilish grin appeared on his face as he slowly moved down, nibbling and sucking on your skin on his way to lick the cream away. “You're so beautiful, baby.” Lewd moans escaped from you as his tongue circled on your breasts. With a sigh you raised yourself up onto your elbows. “Dean..oh, fuck!” A quick bite from him, sent a surge of arousal straight through your core, making you arch your back reactively. “Dean..” you tried to speak again. “You're wearing too many clothes.” He didn't let him be bothered and continued on sucking on your breasts. You closed your eyes in pleasure, feeling his tongue flick on one nipple while your other tit was messaged by his large palm, cupping it perfectly. “Mmm, but I'm still enjoying my little perfect snacks.” He whispered against your skin.

You locked your fingers into his hair and yanked him up from you, making him grunt. Looking straight into his eyes, you smiled and locked your legs around his hips, quickly turning yourself over, so you'd be straddling him instead. You hovered above his face, whispering close to his lips. “You had your snack.” He had them parted, waiting for the kiss, but you moved down to his neck instead. “But now it's my turn.” Your lips were softly brushing against the sensitive spot under his ear. Without breaking the kisses, your hands started to blindly unbutton his shirt. Getting the final button opened, you sat up in his lap, quickly ordering him to remove his flannel and the t-shirt underneath it, before you moved onto his pants, removing them, but leaving his underwear on. “Shirts, off.” Dean pulled you into a heated kiss, before following your orders. As soon as there was nothing but his boxers left on him, you pushed him to lay back back down on the carpet.

You sucked on his bottom lip hard before slowly moving downwards on his neck and chest leaving a hot trail of kisses on his body. His breathing got deeper the more down you moved.

But you took your time, kissing every inch of him before stopping at the waistband of his boxers. You looked up at him and watched the muscles in his neck strain before lowering yourself down again to peck his erection lightly through the thin fabric of his underwear. “Fuck..you're such a tease, babe.” He said, slowly exhaling as you moved back up to his face. “Mmm, I know...” You kissed him softly and whispered against his lips. “But you love it.”

“I do.” He pulled you back into the kiss.

You sat back up on top of him and your lips curled into a lopsided smile, when you reached out for the champagne bottle. You saw Dean's eyes, darkened with lust, following your every move as he laid there under you. You popped it open and took a swig. “I need a taste of that.” Dean sat up, but put his arms around to keep you in his lap. Just one look at him and you could feel yourself flooding with arousal, pure carnal need for him clouding your mind. He didn't even have to do anything, that was almost like your default setting around him. Aroused and needy for his touch. Dean didn't break your eye contact when he took the bottle from you. “Open up. Don't swallow.”

“Don't swallow? First time I've heard that from you.” Your laugh turned quickly into a mewl when he pinched your nipple. “Hey, don't sass with me.”

You then happily complied and opened up. He poured a little Champagne into your mouth and pulled you into a sensuous kiss, relishing the taste of it he got from your tongue. It dripped down on your chin, but Dean quickly licked it off, not letting anything go to waste.

Both of your hands were roaming all over each other. Dean's fingers dug deep into your hips, holding you in place while he slowly started to move his hips back and forth. “Oh, fuck..” You moaned loudly and pulled on his hair, while his cock pressed against the drenched lace between your legs. “Mmm, Dean..” You panted out heavily. “I want to say “fuck the foreplay”, but eating the cupcake off you, sounds just so divine. But..aah..fuck..” you couldn’t decide whether to keep going or whether to tell him to just fuck you right there. “There's no rush..We have the whole night.” He whispered softly against your neck, his warm breaths lingering on your skin.

You picked up a cupcake from the table and turned Dean's face up from your neck. “Mm.. cake it is then.” You bit your lip and gently pushed him back down to the floor. He looked at you, waiting for your next moves. With a playful look on your eyes, you started to break off small pieces of the cake, leaving them on various spots on Dean's body. A little piece under his jaw, on his chest. “It's cold, babe!” He laughed as watched you move downwards. “Mm, I'll take care of it in a second.” You kissed his stomach before smearing a little frosting just above his navel. With a low hum, you added little pieces onto his hips, where soft v ran down to his pelvis.

You sat up in his lap, admiring him covered in pink frosting, eyes sparkling with anticipation. You felt like a kid in a candy store, unable to contain a happy squeal. “Mmm..you look just scrumptious! Want a little taste of that?” Your eyes found Dean's as he nodded eagerly begging you to feed him. “Yes, baby, give it to me.” He breathed out heavily as his eyes followed your finger breaking off another piece.

You decided to tease him again and lifted your finger up to your own mouth with intention to lick it clean yourself, but Dean suddenly grabbed your arm. “Uh-uh. Not letting you do this to me this time.” He pulled your hand towards him. His eyes never left yours when he slowly closed his lips around you, sucking and moaning loudly at the same time. “Mmm.. that is delicious.”

You smiled as he lowered himself back to the floor, watching you move onto his neck. Dean’s sighs and low groans made you feel the arousal pooling between your legs, wanting nothing more than him just to take you right there. To make love to him like he deserved to be loved. Slowly. Passionately. You felt him tremble slightly under you when you were kissing your way down to his hips to finally sink your teeth playfully into his hips and lick off the frosting. As soon as you pulled away from him, Dean turned you over to pin you under him, again, while he peppered you all over with kisses.

“I love you, Dean.” You murmured into his ear. “So much.” He turned your face back to him to capture your lips. This time the kiss was slower, sweeter, full of love for each other that your words just couldn’t express. “I love you, too, sweetheart.” He locked his green eyes with yours and whispered. “I have to do something.”

There was a sudden shift in the mood when he pulled away and walked to the shelf where you had your phone connected to the Bluetooth speaker. You sat up, looking at him curiously. “Hey, what are you doing?” He typed something into your phone before turning back to you. “You know how much I love you. I try to tell you that every day. But sometimes..” his words trailed off. Dean reached for your hand, to pull you up from the floor. He suddenly seemed so nervous. So vulnerable. Dean kept his eyes down on your hands linked together.

“Sometimes I have a hard time telling you what I see for us in the years to come. And I want you, Y/N. I want us to grow old together. As long as our hunter life allows us. That's all.. That's just all I've ever wanted. To have you next to me.” He continued softly and finally looked up at you. “I think this song gives you a better idea.”

“You're going to make me cry, Dean.” You said, listening to the song he had chosen.

I see forever when I look in your eyes

You're all I've ever wanted

I always want you to be mine

Let's make a promise ‘til the end of time

We'll always be together

And our love will never die

You and Dean hadn't really talked about your future together before. You were taking just one day at a time. But seeing Dean open up to you now..it just really meant the world. Both of you were only in your thirties, but even that was so much longer than you both had expected to have. You would've never thought that you'd find someone who loved you for who you were. A hunter - never fully healed from everything that you'd gone through in your childhood. But that's who Dean was, too. Just as broken and messed up as you.

He deserves to be happy. You deserve to be happy. And you knew that as long as you're together, you will be the happiest you could ever be.

What you had planned to be a fun, messy date night, had turned out to be something so much more powerful. You were not expecting to end up crying in front of him. That's what made it perfect though. That openness with each other where you didn't have to hide your feelings, emotions, tears that were brought to your eyes from his declaration.

“Dean..I-” you sniffled. “I love you so much. We have a lot to talk about our future, but I know one thing. I want to spend it together. You are the only person who I could ever imagine next to me. Only one who I'd want next to me.”

You stood up on your toes and kissed him again. Dean's hands rested on your hips as you stood still in the room, in each other's embrace, surrounded by the melody of the song. He lifted you up in his arms and instinctively you locked your legs around his hips. Dean started to walk out of the room.

“Where are we going?” You asked between the kisses.

He took some turns in the hallway and you saw where he was leading you. “I'm taking you to bed.” He broke the kiss quickly. “Not that I wouldn't have loved having sex with you in there, but the cave? That's just for quick fuck. I'm going to make love to you.” You laughed at his bluntness, but he just continued. “I'm going to show you how much you mean to me. How much I really love you. Over and over and over..” He murmured into the kiss again.

Dean opened your bedroom door with one hand and walked inside. Sofly he placed you onto the bed, your head comfortably resting on the pillows, hair fanned out. Your breaths got caught for the short moment you and Dean were apart, both of you taking each other in, inch by inch, running your eyes all over each other. Not wanting to spend another second away from you, he climbed back to the bed, closing the distance between your lips.

The way you both spent it exploring each other's bodies made it feel like your first night over again with Dean. But at the same time you both already knew how to get one another to the absolute peak.

All through the night you got lost in each other's embrace, letting the desire, passion and your love for each take over your minds over and over again until the early morning hours. When you finally snuggled closer to him, entangling your legs, holding Dean as close as possible when you slowly fell asleep in each other's arms, feeling happy and loved, both of you knew it would last longer than just for the night.

Tags: @jackles010378 @cevansbaby-dove @deanwinchestersgirl87 @alternativeprincess94 @il0vebeingdelulu @suckitands33 @nescavaneck

[ipegchangbin]

— lines, lines, and more lines

hyunjin x reader | 4.5k words

♡ ... accompanying playlist. Hyunjin stared at the unfinished painting. It always seemed to stare back. And its eyes — it had none — looked like yours.

��� angst. hurt, comfort. hopeful ending. ❥ not beta read. gender neutral reader (no pronouns). past breakup. declining mental health (depression). mentions of suggestive activity. exes to…

📝 happy valentine’s day! art & playlist by me. otherwise, enjoy.

18+ only. minors do not interact.

Should he have called you?

He loves all sorts of art. He has not once ever hated a single piece, thinking that all works were masterpieces in their own right.

Standing in the corner of the room, though, was a canvas he hated to see. Hyunjin didn’t dislike your unfinished painting, but he hated being reminded of what could’ve been.

It had been a year yet nothing in that corner of the room had changed. He always used the studio, of course, the large open workspace full of ideas that came to fruition and stored the ones that didn’t in unsealed paint cans and palettes with stories in them.

The room was littered — half-clean thanks to weekly maintenance — but not dusty. It was a calculated mess, typical for an artist, atypical for a depressed romantic.

Because all but one goddamn corner of the room changed. That one painting stood on that easel, paint dried yet not chipping once off its canvas.

It was supposed to be a portrait of his face. You finished the perimeter of his head, his bangs and mullet colored in, and an underpainting of his skin was in the works. His lips were as luscious as you used to claim — one of his favorite compliments, he wouldn’t admit — and they were frozen in an ever-present gentle smile. He didn’t have any eyes yet, but your rendition of him stared back at Hyunjin like a warped reflection in moving water.

Yet it seemed to stand still in time.

That’s why he called you. After months of no contact, he dialed you up at 2 AM in a state of slightly calmed panic. Hyunjin wasn’t thinking; he didn’t want to think, not anymore. All he wanted was to see you.

He bit his lips that you once said were luscious and full. The anticipation in his system only seemed to outweigh the feeling of his teeth clamping his lower lip.

Autopilot drew over his actions. Your phone rang. His own vibrated in his hand. He allowed the speaker to ring across the colorfully-decorated walls of the studio.

Please, pick up.

“Hello?”

Hyunjin blinked and suddenly he was back to where he was. The call had been over twenty minutes ago. It would be approximately ten more minutes before you’d arrive at his doorstep.

Was that really your voice that he heard?

Can’t be stupid, of course that was you. There was no mistaking the calm and soothing timbre of a voice that had just awoken, not from sleep, but from resting a stretch of time without speech.

Maybe he dreamt it up again? No, he didn’t. Then, why did he do that?

Hyunjin, are you fucking stupid? He couldn’t help his thoughts.

It’s no secret that he’d slip into that same blurry headspace, the one where he’d stop thinking and just do. Do things. Do whatever. It would take a bone to the head for him to even stop him at this state and it was painfully clear whenever he was in this trance.

He wouldn’t speak much. He’d pick up whatever he was supposed to hold and focus with deathly control. He’d zone in instead of out; this regularly occurred when he was painting, and he’d lose track of thought and simply keep going.

Is that why my works are more soulless lately? I don’t think when I make them. Hyunjin waved a hand in front of his sleepy eyes.

The downside to this was that, after the autopilot switches off, the flurry of thoughts would race and speed and subsequently crash. His thoughts were bullet trains that resumed motion and his head had tracks suddenly converging at a point. It’s wild, even to him, and he still isn’t sure if he’s gotten used to it yet.

All that he knew is that he missed you dearly.

You would know him better than he does. You would know how to comfort him. You would know — no, understand him better. Process his feelings more than he could ever do alone.

He never knew what love was until he loved you. He still loves you. It’s a love that eats away at him, as it’s the only love he knows.

It’s the only love he had. It’s the only love he lost.

Knock, knock, knock.

And it’s the only love that answers his call.

Startled by the sudden noise, Hyunjin got up from the dark amber floors of his well-loved studio and stopped staring at the painting.

It told him something. It seemed to know that someone was there. The artist behind his unfinished face, you, returned to his home no matter how absent-minded he seemed to be as he called you.

But he could leave the door unanswered. He could half-lie, pretend that he was drunk and fell asleep, text you a simple apology. It could be simpler.

But you were waiting so patiently by his door.

Curse you. Why have you always been patient with him? Why do you always wait for him? He didn’t deserve you, didn’t deserve to date you then break up with you. He didn’t deserve to waste a single second of your time.

Even if you weren’t together anymore, why do you wait so loyally for him behind a door that won’t open in the dead middle of the night?

Hyunjin pondered whether or not to unlock the entrance and let you back into his life at least for one more fleeting moment.

“Sorry for making you wait,” he said, guiding you through the halls of his house as if you hadn’t memorized it by now.

Maybe he wanted the moment to feel special all over again. After several months of calling it quits, he wanted to make it feel as if you re-entered a dream from where you left off.

Ignore that it looked nightmarish now. If it at least holds any bearing, it did feel like you picked up from where you left off, though.

The more you traversed the familiar walls you once called home, the more it seemed apparent that life and time both flowed and stopped within the house. Some things were stuck in time, like the one-fourth full shampoo bottle sitting in your former corner of his shower. The sink was newly wet, water still dripping from the porcelain. It wasn’t like you wanted to pry, but the bathroom door was wide open to begin with, the scene more apparent when you noticed Hyunjin sniffling behind you.

Did he break down in the restroom again?

You knew he always did that. He didn’t have the habit of keeping to himself, but when he didn’t want to display his vulnerability to you, the same bathroom became his space if an outlet. Drawings weren’t always an answer, especially if it was his job, so he’d sob in the restroom — and it seemed, in his dissociative episode, he cried for a minute before calling you.

You walked further into the house. Your steps creaked against the wooden flooring that he promised to fix several months ago — had it been a year?

Maybe so. You haven’t used the same brand of the three-fourths empty shampoo bottle since last year. You switched brands since you left him.

He must’ve noticed. Hyunjin always made it known to you that he loved taking whiffs of your scent when you once were lovers. Now that he was trailing behind you while simultaneously guiding you through the depressive home, he must’ve realized that once was a lavender-scented head became lemon and lime.

It was unfamiliar. It shouldn’t affect Hyunjin. It’s just you. You’ve changed, so did the house, so did he, but it wasn’t anywhere near your level of maturation and growth.

Because how the fuck does a change of shampoo beat an unchanging home?

“Hyune,” you called to him, “do you need help with anything over here?”

He blinked. Even he didn’t know why he called you.

“I thought you needed help with the furniture?”

Right…right? He said that? Caught up in the sight of you after months, Hyunjin didn’t even remember his own excuse. He just craved to see you. See the person you grew to become.

See the person who left for the sake of love.

“Oh, yeah, I do.” Hyunjin sniffled with a weak smile. “Had to move a table in our—the studio, but your stuff’s in there.”

A genuine shock washed over you. “Shit, I forgot some things? I’m sorry.”

Hyunjin shouldn’t be this delighted to see your emotions.

He always loved watching you talk. He listened with full observation, relishing in the way you expressed yourself because you were beyond entertaining. You were his opposite, but also his twin flame. So maybe that was why it burnt his chest with charred edges to see that you were so much more confident in your words.

Was it speech therapy? Was it freedom? Was it because you left him, that you learned to love yourself more? Was it really not him, but you? “It’s not you, it’s me?”

Shit. He was overthinking again. His temples started to hurt more than it did. Sweating and despairing and wondering when — if it would all end by staring at you long enough.

He led you through the corner leading up to the studio. The first thing you saw, thankfully, wasn’t the mess he was creating around the corner; it was your painting. The haunting aura of Hyunjin’s portrait seemed to surprise you, taking one step back on your left leg. The studio was rampant of Hyunjin’s constant and bustling work ethic and then there was your corner, pristine in the way that it hadn’t moved at all. The painting stared at you both. You wondered if that had really been the state at which you left it — the state at which you left him.

You’re not the same. There’s comfort in the fact that you’re still you, the you he fell for and cherished. The you that he deemed his darling. His co-artist, his muse.

Standing in his studio after months, taking a gander at your unfinished work; you have the same backside but your silhouette has changed. Hyunjin couldn’t seem to grasp it. How could he, when you were his one and only love?

“God, that thing’s still there,” you joked. For a moment, Hyunjin’s thoughts seemed to calm themselves as you both chuckled silently.

“It’s funny, I stare at your painting and it looks like it’ll never crack.” He pointed at the painting, forgetting about the furniture he pretended to need help with. “You haven’t even varnished it and yet I feel more brittle than it ever will be.”

There’s a solemn look in his eyes as he stared at the spitting image of him, albeit rough around the edges and eyeless.

“Bits and pieces of my heart chipped when you left,” he whispered, though you caught it.

He bit his tongue to keep himself from uttering the petname “darling.” Force of habit, even after months — yet nobody could blame him, especially after you left him to wonder what you both were.

He knew how to mix orange paint better than knowing the mix of emotions you gave him.

“I’m sorry?”

The guilt washed over his shoulders as he realized that he spoke aloud, suddenly hoping that you could just go back to furnitures. He pretended to clear his dusty table, only for your hand to catch his. Skin on skin had never felt this refreshing. He’d realized that he never had another being touch him after you left.

“No, nevermind, I—”

“Hyune, no, I’m sorry.” The sincerity in your voice gave him goosebumps that he hoped you hadn’t felt under your palm. “I didn’t think I’d affect you like this…”

“It’s nothing big, really,” he scoffed, his own eye bags from losing sleep over you proving him otherwise. Hyunjin started feeling weird, like his head was spinning and he could faint at any moment. He was losing balance while holding onto the table. All he wanted was for you to talk.

Your concern only ever grew. “But you even kept the painting like that. Why didn’t you just take it down?”

You turned to him after he gave no response.

He thought and thought until he lost himself in a sea of overwhelming ideas and questions. He tried to come up with answers until he concluded that these were the same questions he’d ask himself every single day as he worked in the same exact studio. If only his clutter could talk, they’d know his secret; he’d stare at your art in between his works and mourn.

Mourn the future he couldn’t have with you. Mourn the lost love.

“Couldn’t take it down I guess.” Hyunjin huffed, defeated. “I just…couldn’t.”

That’s when it hit you. A lot of things in his house were merely things he simply couldn’t let go of.

The shampoo bottle from earlier. The painting. Trinkets stacked in the corners of the hallway you slowly walked through were keychains that you and Hyunjin bought at art fairs together. The hat you’d been missing was hanging by the entrance all along, untouched. Some brushes in his studio were yours.

He’d been stuck in a limbo between the past and present, unable to see a future from the dust on his table. Hyunjin stood in silence as you both shared a knowing look.

A look you couldn’t even spare him when you left.

For the past months, he couldn’t stop fixating on the last time you made love — the night before you left. It was great, satisfying and full of sweat and tears, full of kisses and promises that you’ll be back someday. You were going to focus on yourself, that you realized that love isn’t for you if you didn’t love yourself first. Hyunjin believed in it. He believed in you. You weren’t lying, but you weren’t sure of your words either. You figured that was the point of leaving, so that you’d “come back” as a sure, secure, and mature person.

It’s just that the world had been so unkind to you both. The things that you used to enjoy with him became something of nothing, and you realized that it was your end that needed fixing. To you, coming back wasn’t a promise to Hyunjin. To him, it was something he was willing to wait for even until the next lifetime. Love to you was for yourself to grow and familiarize with, but love to him was something he only knew through you.

That was the last time he’d ever touched another person, let alone himself. That was the last time he had ever uttered “I love you.” But maybe, just maybe, you were too set on leaving to care about the sex. It was full of love to him but it was probably empty to you. It was probably one last promise that you wanted to fulfill—let go of. You didn’t even pack your shampoo bottles when you left.

Hyunjin sat on the ground, legs about to give in from the sheer weight of his emotions and thoughts. You followed suit, sitting beside him.

I feel weird again.

Hyunjin clutched his arms closer to his chest, squeezing his knees in between the embrace, trembling in fear of another barrage of racing thoughts consuming him, eating away at his space.

There was nothing he could do about it. It always just seemed to happen.

Everything hurt, his brain was throbbing, your presence alone was too much in his shitty abode that he calls a home, his studio is one shabby excuse of a room that shouldn’t have you in it, you didn’t deserve to be here, in his place, in his damned, shitty place—

“Hyune.”

You reached out behind yourself to grab his arm.

“You’re not okay.”

It took two full, quiet seconds before anything. You stared not at his arm, but his eyes.

“Thought it was obvious,” he tried to joke. Once he caught a glimpse of your unwavering concern, he looked back down.

You made the grip on his arm firmer. You stroked his forearm with your thumb. It seemed to ground your ex, but he still felt just as broken as he was earlier.

“I’m sorry.” You sighed. “I keep saying it but I don’t think it’ll ever be enough. I’m sorry I left you like this. I’m sorry I even left you. I just…you know that I had to do this for me, for us…”

You felt something in your throat. You swallowed it. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to forgive me. I know how shitty it is and now, I’m here for you.”

Hyunjin wordlessly listened, nodding at your now-real and sincere promises. Tears were falling down his eyes in the same tracks his previous tear stains ran down.

Your painting had been staring at you this whole time, the strokes around the eyes sticking out like sore thumbs to him — they were more of pinky promises to you, left hanging and ignored yet still innocently waiting.

“Let’s fix that,” you sighed.

“What?”

You looked at Hyunjin with a smile, half fond and half despondent. “May I finish this real quick?”

Hyunjin simply stared at you. The tears in his eyes fell but he didn’t dare blink. His eyes were wide open, in awe of your smile, scorn growing in his chest that you are both incredibly hurt people.

He hated, still hates, and will always hate the way that this world wronged either of you to the extent that you smile with unhappiness.

Alas, you got up to finish your work, thinking he nodded when he didn’t.

You stumbled to get up on two legs, struggling in your trembling body to even put a hand on your knee to get up. It was less of heartbroken now and more of tired, emotionally exhausted, sleepy, and slightly frustrated at the sight of your unfinished work.

Though it was your painting that your chose to abandon for months, you finally took the brush and picked up a surprisingly active thinner and a semi-dry pigment — random color that you couldn’t bother to check — off his palette with its bristles. You started slashing in a semi-calculative fashion, not minding the strokes but rather the picture you were painting, burning butterflies from your brain right onto the canvas.

Hyunjin stared curiously with hands on his knees still close to his chest. The eyes that were promised on the canvas became less and less like his own until they weren’t.

And there they were, butterflies sitting on a portrait of his face.

“There,” you said, accomplished. For some reason though, the lump in your throat returned.

You figured it was the thought of slightly finishing in the way you never intended to. You remembered working on the piece while you were still together, promising to paint him a portrait as a signifier of your love for him. He sat in front of your easel for hours, not because you couldn’t paint his face right, but because you and him couldn’t finish your work from laughing together and talking endlessly.

You couldn’t get it done even if you wanted to just because he loved you so much. He loved you enough to make you smile and laugh. He loved you to the point of obsession and fixation. Nowadays, you aren’t sure how you feel about that, but then, it was refreshing and alive.

Maybe that’s what killed love for you. You didn’t want him and his explosive bouts of love to get in the way of your love for your work, your life, yourself. You loved him, you still do. It’s no question. So, what is it?

Is it that you didn’t love him the way he loved you?

You left to focus on yourself. You left to find the love that you needed for yourself. Or maybe, is this his consequence of loving too much?

Or did you not love him the same?

“It’s…” Hyunjin slowly spoke, “it’s so pretty.”

Your eyes sparkled at him. He was fixated on the butterfly in your painting.

“Your work is always so beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you nervously said. The tears started to pool by your eyes. The nostalgia, the pain in his voice, the longing for you and him…was it all too much?

Hyunjin seemed to have an answer.

“Though we won’t be certain about what’s in store for us,” he mustered up the courage to say, “I’m certain that you’ll always be in my picture.”

“What if I don’t want to be in your picture anymore?” You asked.

Hyunjin’s lips shut.

You didn’t know what overcame you when you said that. The frustration of thoughts, from having to answer your ex’s call and seeing him break down like this, to questioning the love that you still have for him. It was all much.

“I’ll be hurt,” he sniffled, “I’ll respect it.”

While you were at it, you had to ask. “Is it selfish to say that I wish you didn’t love me so that you leaving would’ve been easier?”

A part of you wished this too much. You hoped that he could just move on. But again, how could he? How could he when you were his first, his supposed last? You were the one who taught him love and he loved you with his all. It’s not a love that you’re used to and it’s not a type of love you could give to him let alone yourself.

Your eyes shifted towards the painting again when he couldn’t answer, until you felt his hand reaching out for yours.

“I love you most. It isn’t selfish, but I think I’m selfish for still yearning. You just know me better than I know myself.” Hyunjin spoke with a sudden eloquence that gave you shivers.

It wouldn’t last long.

“Thank you.” You held his hand with your other. “But Hyunjin…you should know yourself better than most.”

“Darling—” His voice broke slightly. The habit creeped back, betraying his tongue as it chased you. “Y/N, I don’t even know anything, so how else am I supposed to do that with myself?”

It became trickier to respond as his tears exploded. “Then understand yourself,” you said, “It’s hard, it sucks, but look. You have to care for yourself before you get to love others.”

“Like you?” He asked with swollen, slightly bitten lips. “You know yourself.”

“I don’t. Not yet. Not completely.”

Hyunjin nodded with sorrow in his eyes. “It’s just…”

He took a deep breath as he glanced at the butterfly. It seemed like a breed of bug that would be free in the wind. He wished to become that, a wandering creature with beauty and nothing in its simple mind but the love of life.

Hyunjin exhaled.

“I’ve been trying to accept that you left because you found yourself, and I’m happy for you. But I can’t help myself. I can’t help but think about you. I can’t help but miss you. I can’t help thinking about how you are, I can’t help staring at the things you left for me, I can’t help the thought that—”

You don’t love me.

“That…th-that…you’re better off without me.”

Holding his hand tighter, you urged him to look at you. “Hyunjin…that isn’t the case. At all.”

“Yet I can’t help it. I…I can’t lose you.” He started choking in his words. “I see my own portrait and all I’ll think about is you.”

Words started to hit like pangs to your chest. He’s right; it’s difficult to separate the art from the artist especially in your circumstances. He couldn’t let the notion of you go at all.

“You painted it. You stared at me. I’ll never forget the concentrated face you made while drawing me. It all goes back to you, and I love you, and I just…”

“Hyunjin…”

“I’m so stupid. I’m sorry. You don’t need to hear any of this. It’s so early, I…” He gulped and bit his bottom lip. “And I can’t kick you out now. God. I’m so fucking stupid…”

Pity and sincere concern washed over you. “You aren’t.” You’ve been in this scene before, back when you were together. Hyunjin’s grateful that you still have the right words to say. “Hyune…I still care for you deeply. I love you.”

“I love myself too and I’m sorry I prioritized myself. I left you in the dark. I’m so, so sorry.”

He tilted his head at that. “No. You deserve to be happy.” He’s right, there was no need to be sorry for choosing yourself when he could only choose you too.

You tried to smile. “Hyune, I always hope that you’ll be happy too.”

A few seconds of silence passed before a glint amidst your ex’s crying appears in his very real eyes.

“We can go back to painting maps. I hope by then, you’ll find yourself too.”

Profound words became skipped heartbeats. If you knew what to say, then he would always be ahead. That’s what you loved about him.

“If I do find it…the way back…” Hyunjin stuttered, “Will you come back to me too?”

“Maybe.” You smiled. “There’s a point that fate will take me to. Hope to meet you at that point.”

The both of you prepared coffee as purple streaks of daylight broke into the sky. You caught up with yourselves and shared a few jokes over the dining table. It had been a while since Hyunjin — nor you — felt this kind if human connection again. The bitterness of the caffeine and sweetness of the sugar would be fitting for you both if it weren’t for the fact that you both downed your drinks with ease, just as you would before.

Things are different, things are the same. Hyunjin promised to be healthier. You picked up one of his extra paper bags and got some of your stuff.

“Hyune, I want to apologize one last time,” you turned to him. “Sorry I pulled the “it’s not you, it’s me” thing even if I knew next to nothing either. And sorry for leaving this.”

You held up the unopened shampoo bottle next to your head. Hyunjin blinked before smiling fondly.

“Do you still want it?”

“Well, you probably need it.”

“I have stock of a new one at home. I miss this one though. Do you mind?”

Familiarity returned at last once you gave him the look with the big, curious eyes.

Hyunjin realized that you, no matter the distance, were never going to be too far from his heart.

Like a butterfly, it always returns to the flowers. Chipped paint can be retouched with new, brighter pigment. Love isn’t off the table, it changes — it grows. Maybe it branches in different directions, but just like butterflies, they don’t fly in straight paths.

He smiled wider when he realized he took too long to respond.

“Not at all.”

thank you for reading ! consider reblogging and leaving feedback if you loved my work 💗 writing © ipegchangbin

[bandaged-writer]

𝘄𝗵𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗱𝗮𝘆 [𝗽𝘁. 𝟮]

what they gift you for valentine's day/white day [pt. 2] feat. fyodor, nikolai, sigma, tecchou + jouno

i forgot to mention it, but these are based on this tweet , so don't @ me for fyodor's part lmao 👩🏻‍🦯

— 𝗳𝘆𝗼𝗱𝗼𝗿 𝗱𝗼𝘀𝘁𝗼𝘆𝗲𝘃𝘀𝗸𝘆

↠ it is during a match of chess and a cup of tea that fyodor casually mentions having a little gift for you fitting for the occasion. ↠ placing your chess piece one step further, you hum. "it really isn't necessary. i'm content just playing chess with you and enjoying the evening by your side," you assure fyodor, but he dismissively waves his hand through the air. ↠ and he makes you give in, talking about how much you've supported him in sickness and health, how the light of your smiles cures his blighted soul and how it's the least he can do. and you know his words ring true, because there's a little sparkle in his usually void eyes. ↠ "fine. what did you get me?"

↠ you might expect something simple like chocolate, some sort of jewelry or a book that he thinks will be to your liking, but oh no. fyodor got you something much grander than that. ↠ "i thought it would only be appropriate to gift you a piece of land. here." fyodor shows you the documents and your eyes nearly plop out of their sockets. ↠ you're nothing but an ordinary person with an ordinary job, but you didn't put your extraordinary boyfriend into the equation. what the hell were you supposed to do with your own piece of land? ↠ "fyodor, you're supposed to give away something simple like chocolate and not land. jesus, how much did it even cost?" ↠ "oh, is it not appropriate?" fyodor asks like he genuinely doesn't know any better, and he truly doesn't. the concept of romance is something he used to read about in books, but experiencing it himself is..different. ↠ you admit that you don't know what to do with a piece of land, but fyodor knows how to make you swoon, regardless. ↠ "one day, we will put a nice house on it in which we can live together. a place just for the two of us. how does that sound?" ↠ maybe it is romantic, after all.

— 𝗻𝗶𝗸𝗼𝗹𝗮𝗶 𝗴𝗼𝗴𝗼𝗹

↠ nikolai is a wild card and unpredictable, even for you. yes, you love him but you'd lie if you said that you could read him like an open book. often times, you had to read between the lines that make up nikolai's being. ↠ he sneaks up on you, spins you into a hug and wears a grin that reaches his eyes. "now! what did i gift you for this most special holiday?" but you never get the chance to answer. nikolai tends to answer his own quizzes, after all. ↠ to your surprise, his comical facade of a jester melts into a face so tender that you swear he was a different person. "i got you this little something." ↠ out of his cape, a white little bird comes flying and rests upon your finger. you don't really know what to say. you could hardly understand the meaning of the bird hopping along your finger. ↠ nikolai takes his mask off. "it's a symbol of how free i feel whenever i am with you. you have seen my most horrible sides as well as the one that is completely sane." ↠ he claims that with you, he doesn't have to fear judgment or your disapproval. "because humans always have a reason for doing what they do." or so you always say. ↠ now, you're learning to appreciate the little bird and smile at the creature. "now it's not half bad. you really saved yourself there," you joke and press a kiss to his cheek. ↠ and maybe nikolai can never be truly free, because he was captivated by you.

— 𝘀𝗶𝗴𝗺𝗮

↠ sigma is probably so busy stressing out about what to get you until the day suddenly rolls around and he has nothing to give you. that is until he spots a deck of cards on his desk and smiles. ↠ he remembers how badly you wanted to know how to play poker and gamble for his kisses, but your lack of knowledge never really allowed it. so the unused deck was perfect! ↠ "here, now the best option you have is to play this card andㅡ" ↠ "uno!" ↠ "..no." ↠ can't tell if you're serious or just fucking with him. ↠ despite a couple of difficulties, you eventually learn how to play poker and occasionally win a game or two against sigma. he willingly showers you in kisses and maybe he does lose on purpose. ↠ as long as he gets to see you smile, it's all worth it. ↠ "gotcha! you owe me another kiss." ↠ "i guess you win. come here to collect my debt." ↠ sigma's kiss is slow and sweet, thick like honey and true like the promises he whispers in your ear late at night.

— 𝘁𝗲𝗰𝗰𝗵𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝘂𝗲𝗵𝗶𝗿𝗼

↠ this man gifts you a bundle of sugarcanes. not because you look like one, but you're sweet like one, he says. ↠ "i've never had any, honestly," you confess, tecchou right next to you with affection in his eyes. ↠ although tecchou is somewhat oblivious when it comes to romance, he can be awfully smooth without really meaning to. he steals a sugarcane from your fingers, one end between his lips and the other end waiting to be conquered by your own lips. ↠ "they're very sweet. wanna give it a try?" ↠ heat rises to your cheeks, but you don't back down! you've kissed tecchou plenty of times, so you should be used to his lips on yours and yet.. ↠"f-fine.." ↠ tecchou edges closer bit by bit, his eyes watching your every move intently and he spots the goosebumps on your skin, the furrow of your brows. oh, you're so perfect for him, he silently swoons. ↠ however, tecchou's patience runs thin. he grabs the back of your head and clumsily smashes his lips against yours. the taste of sugar and something that is uniquely you causes butterflies to flutter through his stomach. ↠ although he is an oddball, you wouldn't want to change a thing about him.

— 𝗷𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗼 𝘀𝗮𝗶𝗴𝗶𝗸𝘂

↠ jouno might be blind, but he can still hear your body loud and clear. your heartbeat, the flow of your blood, your body temperature. to him, the sound of your heart is the most peaceful one of all; rhythmic, periodic and most importantly calm. ↠ he dislikes the noisiness of the likes of tecchou or teruko, so your calmness rubs off on him whenever he steps foot into the lovely home that was once an empty house before you. ↠ jouno soon realizes that you cannot hear him like he can hear you and he decides to do something special for you. in the late evening, when you were asleep and blissfully ignorant to the world, he grabs a little notebook and sketches the waves of his heartbeat. ↠ to be precise, the waves whenever his heart was beating in perfect sync with his own. ↠ "this looks an awful lot like an EKG," you deadpan and jouno facepalms. you're lucky you're cute or else he'd give you the tecchou-treatment. ↠ once jouno is done explaining what this little gift is, he can hear tears brimming your eyes and your lips stretching into a smile. your heart stumbles. ↠ "jouno..this is reallyㅡ" ↠ he's quick to shush you by putting your hand on his chest, smiling like the sly fox he always is. "we're in sync right now." ↠ yes, this is much more flustering than a kiss.