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builtbybrokenbells · 4 months

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Reaching New Heights

While under the impression that she has the house to herself, y/n enjoys some much needed alone time. Jake, planning on coming home to surprise her, walks himself straight into a whole new world.

Based off this request 🤍

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 11k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, virgin reader/losing virginity, unprotected sex, oral (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), masturbating (f!receiving), simultaneous orgasm, multiple orgasm, very soft dom type beat, slight cockwarming if you squint, dry humping, touch of spit play, touch of voyeurism, praise, dirty talk, name calling, begging, very very sweet Jake ☹️, anxiety, fluff, swearing, talks of bad dating experiences, sorry if I miss any!

thank to the lovely anon who requested this! sorry for all of my other requests waiting, I promise I’m getting there! I had an idea like this already sitting in the drafts, so when I saw this request I had to write it! I hope this is what you were looking for, and I do apologize for this basically just being pwp. As always, enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes! 🤍 (extremely lightly edited)

Intimacy, especially in the sexual context, had always been a touchy subject for you. It wasn’t because of any moral dilemmas, nor because of bad past experiences. You weren’t saving yourself for marriage, and you did not value your virginity as a ‘virtue’. You simply chose not to engage because you had never met anyone who you believed was right for you. You had plenty of dates and failed talking stages with men who only ever seemed interested in getting in your pants, but you had never met someone who seemed interested in you beyond anything sexual. You wanted to explore, to test your own limits and discover yourself with another person, but you could not bring yourself to undress for someone who only wanted (and planned) to leave after the fact.

You were comfortable with your own routine, and after a while it seemed more likely that you would remain a virgin until your hair turned gray and you were sat in a nursing home. At first, it bothered you, but then it became the most normal part of your life. You would rather keep to yourself than give away a part of you to someone who would not appreciate it. Most people weren’t interested in dating once you specified that you would not put out on the first date, and to you, that was okay; they weren’t worth your time or effort. Life was simple without anyone else empeding on your routine, anyway.

Then, one fateful day at a lovely, locally owned music store, you found yourself in front of someone who changed your world entirely, flipping it on its axis and throwing your whole life off course. You had (literally) run into him when you were least expecting it; he had stepped in front of you as you were bustling to the counter to pay for your handful of vinyl records. He apologized profusely, landing a gentle hand on your arm to make sure you were steady on your feet and he hadn’t hurt you. You were too enthralled in the beauty of his face to comprehend the words he was speaking, anyway. His long brown hair hung down to frame his face, and his warm, chocolate coloured eyes seemed to be staring straight into your soul. His smile was inviting, and his charm was unexplainable. He’d made you fall for him without even trying.

Once you managed to overcome your nervous staring, you forced a smile and assured him you were alright. He introduced himself, hesitant to believe you were telling the truth, and insisted on buying your records for you as an apology. After a drawn out back-and-forth argument, he eventually managed to convince you that it was the only apology he would allow for himself. Before you ventured to the counter, you took interest in the specific guitar he was fawning over on the wall. After explaining the details to you, you were left feeling disappointed at the prospect of having to part with him once you stepped out the door.

He ended up buying your records, and the guitar hanging on the wall, but he didn’t seem to want to let you leave without anything more, either.

So, instead of going your separate ways, you ended up at a diner just down the street, sharing lunch and getting to know each other as best as you could in the limited time you had. Laughs were plentiful and fulfillment was felt from all sides. Jake Kiszka was the man you had been waiting for, someone who saw you as a person, not just something to fuck. He was interested in every small detail, and he wanted to know everything he could about you. He was a bit shy, and very nervous, but he was sweet, kind, and he took your breath away. When you left the restaurant, you had a new found excitement for life, and a phone number in your contact list that would now be called on the daily.

At first, the relationship was built slowly and carefully. The two of you started as friends, texting each other regularly and trying your best to discover all of the intimate details about each other. Then, when you guys built up enough courage, you started going on small dates; movie nights, dinner dates, Sunday afternoon drives… you wanted to do anything and everything with him. He quickly became your closest friend and your most trusted confidant. You spent so much time together that it was almost strange not being in the same place. Of course, eventually, his time to tour came around, and it threw your life so violently off track that it was nearly hard to function.

When he first told you, you tried to force a smile and pretend all was well, but he knew you better than that. He could see the sadness in your eyes, and the apprehension. You were both so head over heels for each other that it made it hard to think of anything else. All of the late night phone calls and evenings spent immersed in each other had finally resulted in something much bigger. You were in love, and you were terrified for him to leave you. You feared that once he was gone, he would find someone more exciting, more interesting. Little did you know, he was afraid of all the same things.

So, as you sat in his living room while he packed up the last of his things, he dropped a sly comment about you taking care of his place while he was gone, coming over and watering his plants, and even staying the night if you missed him too much. It was his indirect way of giving you a key to his house, and in turn, his heart. He slipped the spare key from his pocket, handing it over and giving you a smile. Before he went to the airport, you found yourselves confessing your hearts and kissing with tears running down your face. He asked you to be his girlfriend before he ever got on the plane.

Every night, when he was holed up in a different hotel room, he was calling you with excitement, unable to wait to tell you all about his day. It was a different kind of feeling, falling in love with someone without anything other than emotional connection. After a year of touring and only being home with you for a few days at a time, he was growing restless and more eager to be with you again. By the time he got home from traveling the world, he missed you so much that he rarely let you leave his side. Within a few months, your belongings were packed up and ready to be taken to his house, and not long after that, it was no longer just Jake’s house, it was yours, too.

When the two of you were together, it grew increasingly more difficult to navigate your lack of sexual experience. He was very affectionate, his hands always on you and kissing you whenever he could. You felt that he was getting frustrated with your rejections, and it forced you into a corner. You had to open up to him, to tell him the truth and that your avoidance was not because of him at all. You sat him down not long after the two of you moved in together, knowing that you should have confessed to him sooner, and fearful that it would change the way he viewed you.

But, almost as if Jake was put on the earth to challenge every single previous idea you had about men, he smiled and held you, expressing his gratitude that you were comfortable enough to share such things with him. He fell in love with you without sex, and that did not change anything for him. You were worth much more to him than that, and he wanted to make sure you knew it. He thanked you for telling him, and he apologized if he ever made you uncomfortable with his actions before your discussion. He promised that he would never push you, and you could take as much time as you needed to open up and explore that with him.

He was a dream come true, and after a few months, you could easily see that he was determined to stay true to his word. He didn’t once make you feel bad for wanting to wait a little longer, and he never pushed you to do anything that made you uncomfortable. Soon after, you began to realize that Jake truly was the one for you, and that all of your previous fears were quickly becoming obsolete. He did not want you for sex; he loved you for your heart, and when you were ready, he would love you for everything else, too.

Even while you found yourself amidst heated make out sessions, and you could feel how much he wanted you, he never pushed you further. When you laid in bed, and he inevitably found his hands becoming more and more curious, he stopped himself before you even had to say anything. He looked the other way when you were getting changed, and even closed his eyes and left the room if he accidentally walked in on you in an awkward position. He was the epitome of patience and kindness, and the longer you watched him respect you in such a way, the harder you fell for him.

You made sure to thank him often, expressing your appreciation for his patience and his willingness to wait. He valued you so highly, and your comfort was always his top priority. Sometimes, you feared that if you made him wait too long, he would begin to lose interest, but every day he proved to you that he was in it for the long haul. He wanted to be with you, and it did not matter in which way. He loved you, and if waiting made you most comfortable, then he would wait forever for you. It quickly became apparent to you that he was the love of your life, and the prospect of sharing that part of you became more enticing every single day.

It was not like you didn’t want to have sex with Jake; if anything, you wanted it so badly that it made it hard to think of anything else sometimes. Once the fear faded away, it was replaced with awkwardness and uncertainty on the topic. You feared that because of your lack of experience, it would be disappointing for him. There were so many questions that you did not know the answer to, and they plagued you almost every time you thought about it. What if he thought you were stupid because you didn't know what you were doing? What if he wasn’t interested in you once you took your clothes off? What if you did nothing but embarrass yourself?

It was all too much sometimes, and you knew the best way to deal with it was to talk to him, but the topic was daunting for you, and it was embarrassing. It was something you knew little about, and it made you feel silly and even a little naïve. You didn’t know what you liked, and you certainly didn’t know how to do anything that he liked. You knew that with the patience that Jake had shown you, he would be nothing but kind in bed, and he would certainly help you figure everything out, but it was so scary to think about, and it was easier for you to avoid it. You were afraid of looking dumb, and the fear hindered you more than anything else. In the time you spent with him, it became more clear that Jake was what you’d been waiting for the whole time, but now you were facing a whole new challenge; being vulnerable enough to let him show you the ropes.

Every so often, curiosity got the best of you, and you let your eyes linger on him a little too long when he was shirtless, and an unfamiliar feeling would blossom in your stomach. He would move a certain way, or his hand would move a little too far up your thigh, and you would be plagued with temptation to touch him. He would wear certain clothes that would drive you crazy when you looked at him for long enough, and it was becoming harder to ignore every single day. He was what you wanted, and it was so difficult to feel that way when you felt paralyzed at the thought of progressing any further. Jake was driving you crazy, and he wasn’t even doing it intentionally; he was just existing, and that was enough to push you closer and closer to the edge.

Like when he would stretch, and a peek of his tanned stomach would be visible, showing you his treasure trail and a slight hint of a v-line, or when he was sleeping so soundly and turned on to his side to pull you to his chest. The feeling of his body against yours was intense, and the longer he held you to him, he more turned on he would get. An ache would begin between your legs as he slept soundly behind you, his erection pressing into your ass. He wouldn’t even realize it, but he would pull you closer to relieve the ache and give him some much needed friction. You would let it play out; you enjoyed it so much, but you could not seem to voice that to him while he was awake. When he woke and realized the extent of his actions, he apologized profusely while you continued to imagine what it would be like if he kept going, pulling your shorts down just enough to give himself access to you.

You imagined what it would feel like as he rested himself against your entrance, speaking softly in your ear as he talked you through it. How he would put his fingers in his mouth, collecting enough spit to lubricate them before his hand drifted between your thighs. You wondered what it would feel like for his fingers to be tracing around your clit instead of your own, how excited he would be just from touching you alone. Your skin tingled at the thought of his rough fingertips gently working at you as he whispered encouragement in your ear, eventually working you up enough to add his cock to you, too. The picture of him being inside you was too much to bear, and just the thought of feeling so close to him was intoxicating. You had to force a smile on your face while apologized, assuring him you were alright while you thought of all of the filthy things that he could be doing to you. You wanted it so bad, but when you finally found enough courage to ask that of him, the words seemed to get stuck in your throat.

When he would leave for errands, or when he would go to work in the mornings, you would think back on the incidents that caused the flutter in your belly. The longer you focused on it, the more uncomfortable you became. You would work yourself up to the point of no return, and you would have to relieve yourself before Jake got back. In your shared bed, you would let your hand slip between your legs as you thought of all of the things Jake did to you without even knowing it. It wouldn’t take long until you were a mess, muttering his name as you reached a climax that was stronger than any you’d ever felt before.

It was almost routine, now. You were so needy that every time Jake stepped out for a moment, you would have to take the time and get yourself off. It was the only way you could keep up with the temptations without having to open up to him about it. He would come home, and you would smile and kiss him as if your fingers hadn’t just been playing with your own cunt while you imagined it was him doing it, instead.

This small ritual was exactly what happened on that specific day; you had grown so comfortable with it that when Jake left for the studio in the morning, you couldn’t wait to finish your household chores so you could cut straight to the point. You kissed him goodbye, wishing him a good day, and watched as he walked to his car, guitar case in his hand as he blew a kiss to you over his shoulder. The jeans he was wearing were tight, hugging every inch of his legs and showcasing every small detail to you. The denim sat nicely over his ass, and unfortunately for you, every other part of him that you tried your best not to think about. His shirt was old, the button up beginning to fray at the sleeves and the fabric becoming thin and worn. He had the last two buttons done, but left the top open as always. The soft, tanned skin of his chest made your mouth water and your stomach twist with desire. You did not know how much longer you could hold yourself back.

He got in his car and drove away, but you stayed at the door, watching the now empty space for a moment longer while you collected your thoughts. You were so worked up that your cheeks were burning and your heart was thudding dramatically against your chest. You forced yourself to shower, taking some extra time to shave and really make yourself feel good. You did the dishes, and you grabbed something to eat, and you wondered if you might be able to curb the urge that day. Once you were away from him and busy with other things, the need seemed so much smaller.

As you sat down to eat, you knew that it was absolutely impossible to ignore such a feeling, because the minute your mind was left without a distraction, Jake was the only thing it wanted to focus on. You forced your lunch into you, remembering that Jake said his day at the studio might be a little longer than the last. You had ample time to really draw the whole experience out, so that’s what you did. When you made it to your bedroom, you knew you had about an hour until he was home again. You took off your clothes, put on some music, only quietly so you could hear if the front door opened, you turned off the lights, and you laid on his side of the bed. You closed your eyes, breathing slowly as you remembered the morning the two of you spent together. It started sweet, like always.

You woke up with Jake next to you, the scent of his shampoo lingering in the sheets as the soft sounds of his snores filled your ears. You looked back over your shoulder at him, smiling as you admired the peaceful expression on his face. He was shirtless, as always, only a pair of boxers on as the comforter covered up his lower half. You watched his chest rise and fall as he breathed, and his stomach, too. You knew you shouldn’t have looked for so long, because the longer you stared, the more curious you became. You reached out, settling your hand on his stomach gently, a little lower than you usually would. You let your fingers drift over the skin, sending a light tickle through him. He tensed slightly at the feeling, but did not wake. After a few seconds, he woke up just enough to realize it was you touching him.

He moved onto his side, draping an arm over your waist as he pulled you closer to him. Every morning went the same, and you looked forward to it every day. He guided you into him, resting your back against his bare chest. His warmth was comforting, and you wished to live in the moment forever. His hand that was wrapped around you drifted underneath your shirt, resting on your stomach as he brought you even closer to him. The curve of your ass fit perfectly against his hips and his nose was brushing against your shoulder. His head was buried in the crook of your neck as he placed a gentle kiss on it. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine and you closed your eyes. He seemed more awake than he usually was, but not completely aware.

You brought your hand under your shirt, too, resting it on top of his own. Once you felt like he’d drifted off to sleep again, you guided his hand upwards even further, so it was resting on your rib cage just below your breast. You wanted to take it further, but instead, you pushed your ass back into him a little. In his sleepy state, the small feeling prompted a physical reaction. His breathing quickened, but he didn’t move any further. For a moment, you had to question if he was awake too, or if he was stuck in a dream about the exact position you were laying in. His rough fingertips against your skin was intoxicating, and you needed more, but you were too afraid to wake him and tell him so.

You moved your hips against him again, feeling his fingers tighten against you. His knuckles brushed against the underside of your breast, and even in a sleeping state, he could recognize that feeling from anywhere. On his own, he moved his hand up further, cupping it in his palm as his head nuzzled further into your neck. Your breath caught in your throat and that familiar feeling began to pulse in the pit of your stomach. His grip grew stronger, and for a moment, you really did believe that he was awake. His thumb drifted over your hardened nipple, causing your hips to move against him again.

You could feel his erection growing against you, becoming more noticeable as each second passed. You squeezed your thighs together, feeling the ache begin to make itself known. Your breathing sped, and your heart pounded against your chest. His hand stayed on your chest for only a moment until a small noise escaped him, his own need showing even while he was asleep. His hand traveled down your body, landing on your hip as he pulled you back on him. Your breath caught in your throat as you tried to keep yourself quiet. You bit down on your lip, scared to make a sound in case he woke and the moment ended.

His fingers held you tightly as he pulled you back on to him, his cock painfully hard as his hips moved against your ass. The throbbing between your legs was unbearable, and you could only imagine that he was feeling the same type of desperation amidst his dreams. Then, as your heart raced, you heard him whisper your name so delicately that a shiver ran down your spine. He wasn’t just dreaming of sex; he was dreaming of you.

Instead of focusing on what came after, when he woke up with embarrassment written in his features and apologies on his tongue, you pretended what it would be like if you had the courage to tell him to keep going. As you thought of it, you let your hand slip between your thighs. You were already aching for relief, your arousal pooling and showing you just how bad you needed him. You let your middle finger begin tracing slow circles around your clit as your mind clung to thoughts of Jake and just how much you wanted him to take care of you.

You imagined his dark eyes growing heavy as he woke, apologizing being the last thing on his mind. You imagined the desperation in his movement as his fingers dipped below your shorts, moving back from you only for long enough to pull them down over your ass. You thought about how good it would feel to have his hand drift to your cunt, relieving the ache that he’d become so good at causing. You didn’t want him to ask if it was okay, or for any type of permission. You wanted him to have you however he wanted, and you would just be thankful that he was giving you anything at all.

“How does that feel, Angel?” He asked, his voice raspy and rough from sleep as his fingers trace around your aching clit. “Does that feel good? Is this what you want?”

“F-fuck, yes, Jake.” You whine, moving your hips forward to meet his hand, so needy and he barely even touched you yet.

“Just want me to take care of you, baby? Need me to show you how good I can make you feel?” His normally sweet and doting personality was gone, replaced with an animalistic desire after waiting so long to have you. You could feel his cock pressing into your ass, still aching to be touched. He needed you so bad that it was impossible to hide it. “You know I’ll always take care of you, sweet girl… give you anything you want.”

“Y-you, Jake. I want you.” You pleaded, feeling yourself clench around nothing. You wanted him so badly, and you weren’t sure if you could wait any longer.

“You want me, sweetheart?” He crooned, the sound of your desperation sending a shiver down his spine. “You want me to fuck you?”

“Yes please,” you plead, feeling your stomach twist with pleasure.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he whispered, his tone resembling a growl. He drew his hand from you, pulling his boxers down just enough to free himself. He brought his hand to his mouth, spitting on it and stroking himself for a few moments. He moved his hips forward, resting the tip of his cock against your entrance. “How bad do you want it, sweetheart.” His low tone settled deep in your bones, making your entire body quiver.

“So bad, Jake. I need you.” You squeeze your eyes shut, your breath stuck in your throat as you feel him push inside of you.

You worked yourself up to the point of absolute desperation. You felt like you were on the brink of insanity, your skin was on fire and your mind was a mess with thoughts of the boy you were so in love with. You were so deep in the fantasy that you could feel it, as if he was in front of you, touching you and pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You were sweating, your heart racing and your stomach twisted into knots. You needed to let go, but more than that, you needed him.

Little to your knowledge, Jake was unlocking the front door, a sneaky smile on his face as a bouquet of flowers was held tightly in his hand. He’d been planning this all week; coming home from the studio early to surprise you, just to see the look on your face. He’d been working more often than usual as of late, and he felt like he wasn’t spending enough time with you. He’d specifically told you he’d be later than he actually would be, just so he wouldn’t ruin the element of shock. When he unlocked the door and stepped inside, he expected to be greeted by you soon after. His confusion grew as he looked to the kitchen and did not see you there. Next, he checked the living room, wondering if you were curled up on the couch reading a book.

When he couldn’t find you there, he figured the only other place you would be is the bedroom. Your car was outside, and you hadn’t mentioned having to run any errands that day. He took to the stairs, wondering if you decided to take a nap or watch a movie in bed. As he climbed to the top of the stairs, he noticed the soft drift of music through the door. He smiled to himself, knowing he would find you wrapped up in blankets and dozing away the day. He could curl up next to you, holding you close while you slept, and maybe even fall asleep beside you. As he reached the door, he was about to reach out and turn the knob, but he froze in his tracks.

An unfamiliar, incredibly enticing sound reached his ears. It was muffled, barely heard over the speaker and through the closed door, but he caught it. Instead of interrupting, he waited and listened, wondering if his ears were deceiving him. He moved his head closer to the door, nearly pressing his ear against the hollow wood as he strained to hear, trying to piece together the situation.

You were so lost in your own little world that you did not hear the door open downstairs, nor did you hear his footsteps in the hallway. You were so close to an orgasm that not much could distract you from it. Your eyes were shut, your breathing labored as you pictured how softly his hands would drift over the curves of your hips, and how intoxicating his tongue on your skin would feel. You thought of the sweet words rolling off his tongue, the imaginary praise and encouragement driving you even closer to a climax. He would be so sweet, so attentive and caring, and you knew he’d make you feel better than you ever had before. You couldn’t help it, the moans falling from your lips were obscene and his name was delicately mixed within them as if he was in there with you, causing the pleasure himself.

He listened carefully, his cheeks flushing with pleasure at the sound of pleasure stuck on your lips. Desire filled him, running all the way from his throat down to his stomach. It made his chest burn and his skin tingle with excitement. In an instant, he’d forgotten about the romantic gesture and the flowers in his hand; he was only focused on wanting to be the reason those sounds were laced around your tongue. He didn’t want to interrupt, and he feared that if he opened the door, he would embarrass you to death. He worried about overstepping, and he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but the sounds were so beautiful that it made his head spin. He tried to force himself to stop listening, fearing he was breaching your trust and invading your privacy, but he couldn’t will himself to walk away.

He was growing increasingly frustrated as he stood and listened, his heart pounding against his chest and his whole body aching with desire. He could feel himself growing more turned on, his cock pressing against the zipper of his jeans as his own desperation became stronger. He palmed himself through the fabric, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He knew he should walk away, leave you alone to finish up and go take care of his own problem. It was the right thing to do, and he knew that, but the idea of you touching yourself, possibly to the thought of him, was so enticing.

Just as he thought he could find the strength to walk away, he heard the sound, so gentle and loving that he could not withstand it any longer.

“Oh god, Jake.” You whined, the sound floating through the door and settling deep in his chest. “Jake…”

It was too much for him. His hand shot out, clasping around the doorknob as he gently pushed it open. The light flooded the room, illuminating you laying so intimately on his side of the bed. Your cheeks were flushed, blotchy with red patches. A thin layer of sweat had formed over your body, only making you all the more beautiful to him. Your lips were parted, his name still caught on your tongue as your hand was settled between your legs, working intently at your cunt. Your head turned to the side, your eyes wide with shock as you tried to process the sudden change in the situation. You were so caught up in pleasure that your hand didn’t even move away from your clit as you locked eyes with him.

Suddenly, your brain seemed to catch up with the situation, and embarrassment began to take over. You panicked, scrambling to move your hand away and cover yourself with the blanket, but he took a step closer and shook his head, speaking lowly to you.

“Don’t be shy, Angel.” He rasped, looking down over you with dark eyes. The man before you seemed to be a stranger, nothing like he was in the morning before he left, but in the best possible way. The calm, domineering tone was so different, but it was fantastic all in the same. He looked down at you, his lips curled into a slight smirk as he stood over you at the foot of the bed. The desire he’d been holding back for so long seemed to be coming to the surface. He couldn’t help himself, and a part of you was thankful for it. “Don’t stop, sweetheart. You can put on such a good show.” His eyes lingered over your face, watching you closely to see if you were uncomfortable. Instead of discomfort, you seemed curious, excited, even.

And you were. You didn’t intend for the situation to turn into this, but perhaps it was the best possible outcome. You had been so afraid to have sex with Jake, and for reasons that were completely irrelevant. He was the man you’d fallen so deeply in love with, and someone you wanted to share this part of you with, too. Him walking in on you allowed you to avoid the awkward conversations and nervous stuttering, because you were already worked up to the point of no return. This made the part you were dreading so much easier, and the look in his eye made you feel foolish for ever thinking he wouldn’t love your body just as much as he loved your heart. Something in his expression told you that he would give you all of the direction you needed if you allowed him to do so.

Slowly, you pushed the blanket away from your body, returning your hand to its earlier position. You continued holding his gaze as you brought your middle finger back to your clit, tracing slow circles while he gave you a smile of satisfaction.

“So this is what you get up to when I’m gone all day?” He asked, his tone low and gravelly. He was so overcome with lust that it was impossible to think of anything else. “As soon as I leave, you come up here and play with that pretty little cunt, without me?” His expression was stern, his jaw tense as his teeth clenched together. You could see his cock strained against his pants, and the fact that he was really standing before you rather than existing in your imagination was making the pleasure all the more intense. His words were filthy, but for some reason, it didn’t seem to scare you. You’d been fantasizing about words like that coming from his mouth since the first day you met him.

“Y-yeah,” you nod, stuttering slightly. He didn’t care, nor did he notice, anyway. Your embarrassment was growing smaller with every passing second, and the desire in his eyes made the whole thing seem less terrifying. To see him want you so badly made your stomach twist into knots. He gave you a small smile at the word, happy to see that you weren’t shutting him out. The small expression was enough encouragement for you to keep going.

“Do you think of me, Angel?” He asked, his gaze flickering down to your hand, working carefully to build yourself back up to an orgasm. “Do you wish that I was here doing it, instead?” He asked, reaching one hand down to his cock, adjusting himself in his pants to make it more comfortable while he watched. Your eyes were fixated on his hand, cheeks red at the thought. You wanted to see more, but you weren’t sure what to do next. You were so out of your comfort zone, but something about being able to do it with Jake made it all the more easier. “Come on, baby. Talk to me.” His voice was softer, now, showing you that he was willing to help you through it.

“I-I do,” you nod, catching his eye again. Somewhere in his pupil, he was trying to tell you that it was okay, and you believed it.

“You want to show me what you do when I’m not here?” He asked, gauging your comfort level with his questions.

“Yeah, okay.” You breathe, nodding again. He gave you another smile, licking his lips slightly. To see him look at you in such a way was almost too much to resist. Instead of jumping straight into it, you let him talk you through it, slowly and steadily.

“Keep touching yourself, sweetheart. Just like that.” He said, watching as your hand worked at your cunt. “Then, once you finish, maybe I can show you what it’s like when someone else does it for you.” He posed it like a statement, but he was asking for permission. He needed to touch you so badly, but only if you wanted him to.

“Yes, please.” You whisper, excited at the thought. You were already so close to the edge, spending the last half an hour working yourself up to a climax. The intrusion slowed down your progress, but definitely did not stop it completely. As you finger drifted over your clit, your stomach was burning with the familiar feeling, but it seemed so much more intense than before now that he was watching you. Your eyes fluttered closed as you could feel the pull of pleasure again, your chest rising and falling with your heavy breathing.

“That’s it, baby. Doing such a good job for me.” He said, but it was strained. He wanted to be the one driving you crazy, and it was nearly torture having to watch you and not touch you. You try to hold your moans back, scared to embarrass yourself, but he thought that your state was all but shameful. He thought you were gorgeous, and he felt so lucky to be able to see you like this at all. “Let me hear those pretty noises again, sweet girl.” He pleaded, taking a step closer to the bed. “Don’t be shy with me.” At his permission, your lips parted and a soft moan filled the air. The sound alone nearly drove him to insanity. He watched you carefully, noticing as the muscles in your stomach tensed with every wave of pleasure. He wanted to remember the way you looked in that moment forever.

You were so close to an orgasm, and the desperation was evident in your movements and your voice. He needed it like the starving needed food, and he couldn’t wait much longer. He leaned down over you on the bed, letting his hand drift over your exposed thigh, the touch light but electric.

“Fuck, Jake.” You expressed your thoughts, feeling the pleasure pulsing under your skin and throughout your entire body.

“Look at me, baby.” He said, wanting you to open your eyes. You did as he said, catching the warm brown of his irises and feeling the warmth flood you. Your breath caught in your throat, and your muscles constricted. You were so close, and him looking at you in such a way made it all the more intense. “Let go,” he hummed, giving you a smile. His eyes were heavy and his chest was heaving with every breath. “Come for me, Angel.” And you did, your limbs trembling as the pleasure took hold. You’d never felt like that in your entire life, and it was so intense that it made your head spin and your chest burn. You didn’t think it was possible to feel such a way, but as you looked into Jake’s eyes, you knew it was all because of him. “That’s my girl.” He sighed, leaning down and pressing his lips to the inside of your thigh.

The feeling made you melt into his touch, his lips so delicate against your warm skin. You wanted more; suddenly, your own hand wasn’t enough. You needed him to do it for you, to feel what it was like when he touched you. You reached down, cupping his cheek in your hand as you let your thumb drift over his cheek. He hummed against you, still focused on the feeling of your thigh against his mouth. The longer he left them there, kissing a trail upwards, the sloppier he became. He sucked light marks into the delicate skin as his hand found your hip, pulling you down on the mattress towards him. He wanted you to feel admired, to know how strongly he felt for you. He wanted you to know that the situation did not have to be scary, and he only wanted to make you feel good. He was there for you, and his pleasure came second to all of your needs.

You watched him as he did all he could to showcase his admiration. You were still aching to be touched, the orgasm you had given yourself long gone and barely enough to keep you satisfied. You needed to feel him, you needed him to bring you to such pleasure, and you couldn’t believe you waited so long to feel him like this.

“Are you okay with this, baby?” He asked, looking up to you with his eyes nearly closed from the weight of lust in his stare.

“Yeah, I am.” You assured him. “I’m… I'm okay.”

“You tell me if you need me or want me to stop, okay?” He ordered, settling on his stomach between your legs. “Even if you just want me to slow down… I need you to tell me, sweetheart. Can you do that?” You hummed a response of agreement, but he didn’t move any further. “I need to hear the words, honey.”

“I will, Jake. I promise.” He gave you a soft smile, looking over your face to search for any discomfort. When he saw only excitement, he brought his own hand between your legs. Carefully, he brought his fingers to you, gathering your arousal on his fingers before bringing them to your clit. The feeling was foreign, but as soon as his fingers landed on the sensitive bundle of nerves, the unfamiliarity quickly became obsolete. His rough, calloused fingertips moved slowly over you as his eyes stayed on your face. It was immediately pleasant, way more so than your own hands doing the work.

“How’s that, Angel?” He hummed, his eyes flickering down to his hand that was working at you. His mouth watered from the sight, but he held himself back from going any further until you were comfortable.

“S-so good.” You whined, looking down at his face. The sight of his eyes fixated on your cunt made your stomach burn with desire. All of the fear you felt before was gone; you should have known better than to think Jake would view you as anything other than gorgeous.

“You want me to keep going?” He asked, looking back up at you.

“Yes, please.” You breathed, nodding at him. He gave you a smile, adding a little more pressure to his thumb. The sensation caused you to move your hips down on his hand, searching for more. He kept the pace for a moment, before sliding his thumb in place of his middle finger. He rested his middle and index finger against your entrance, waiting to see your reaction before doing anything else.

“Is this okay?”

“G-god, yes.” You nodded, still sensitive from your first orgasm. Everything he was doing felt fantastic, and you never wanted him to stop. Before going any further, he leaned forward and let a trail of spit fall from his lips to his fingers, making sure that it wouldn’t be uncomfortable for you. You watched, feeling a flutter of emotion rush to your core at the sight. He gave you a small smirk, noticing the reaction. Slowly, he added one finger first, wanting you to grow comfortable with the feeling before going any further. Once he knew you were alright, he added a second.

“There you go, beautiful.” He smiled, noticing your eyebrows furrow with pleasure as a moan fell from your lips. Gently, he pumped his fingers into you a few times, spitting on his hand once again to lubricate them further. “God, you have no idea how much I thought about doing this.” He muttered, more to himself than you.

“Y-you… you think about this?” You asked, your cheeks turning red at the thought.

“Think about it?” He nearly scoffed. “Baby, I dream about it.” He corrected, curling his fingers upwards slightly as his thumb brushed over your clit. You let out a sharp breath, the feeling unfamiliar but incredibly pleasant. “I think about making you feel good, and about how pretty I knew you would look while you cum…” he trailed off, driving himself crazy at his own words. “About how good you’d taste, and how good you’d feel…” he cut himself off, realizing he might be too obscene for you at the moment. You looked down at him, almost as if you were pleading with him to keep going. The knowledge that he thought about you the same way you thought about him made your heart skip a beat. “How good you’d feel wrapped around my cock.” He finished, stronger and more confident. He could feel your walls clench around his finger at the sound of his words.

“I think about you, too, Jake.” You confessed, closing your eyes and letting your head fall back on the pillow. The pleasure was more intense than anything you’d felt before, and his words were making it all the more satisfying.

“Yeah? You think about me touching you like this?” He paused his thoughts, increasing his pace ever so slightly. “Such a dirty little thing.” He teased, smiling up at your blushed face. “I love it.” He made sure that you knew that more than anything else. “How does this feel, gorgeous?”

“It feels so good, Jake.” You assure him, hoping that he won’t stop.

“Can I try something?” He asks, leaning down and pressing a few more kisses into your thighs.

“Y-yeah, okay.” You nod, unsure of what he had in mind, but trusting him more than anything.

“M’gonna use my mouth, okay?” He said, scanning your face. “Is that alright?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, excited at the prospect.

“Just tell me if you want me to stop, okay Angel?”

“Okay.” You nod, your eyes fixated on him as he moved closer to your heat. He moved his thumb from your clit, but you barely have time to mourn the loss before his mouth was on you and his tongue was doing the work, instead. “Oh, fuck.” You whine, reaching down and tangling your hand in his hair. The feeling was more intense, and definitely more powerful. The warmth of his mouth and the wetness of his tongue was like heaven, and so unlike anything you’d felt before. He barely started and you could feel your walls fluttering against his fingers. You were bordering another orgasm, and you weren’t sure how much you could take before you let go.

His tongue moved carefully, but with intent. It drifted over your clit, savoring any bit of arousal still left on you. His eyes were closed as his hips moved down on the mattress, the friction barely relieving the ache of his cock, but making it a little more bearable. Your breathing was shallow, and the feeling of your fingers tangled in his hair was driving him crazy. He pumped his fingers into you as his tongue worked at you, curling his fingers slightly every time he re-entered. The different types of stimulation was not overwhelming, but just enough as they worked together to push you to the edge.

“Fuck, Jake.” You whined. He hummed against you, showing you how much he was enjoying the sound. The vibration ran through you, tightening the knot in your stomach. You were so close, and your skin was tingling with pleasure. “I think… think m’gonna cum, baby.” You warned. He did not pull away, instead he made his movements more pronounced, needing it more than he needed anything more in his entire life. Your mind was flooded with desire for him, and you could only whimper his name.

He was making you feel better than you ever had before, and you were so in love with him at that moment. You couldn’t think of anyone else you’d rather be doing this with, and you felt so comfortable and loved. He adored you, and he was coaxing you so gently to a climax that it was hard to feel any fear or anxiety about it. He was so gentle and kind, his touch soft and his words sweet. He wanted you to get the most out of it, and more than anything, he wanted to make your first time special. He waited so long for this moment, and now that it was here, he was doing everything in his power to make sure you enjoyed it.

The orgasm washed over you hard, making your legs shake and your eyes squeeze shut. Your fingers tightened around the stands of his hair, and you moaned his name as the pleasure took over. The obscenities falling from your lips painted the walls, burying the memory in the room until the end of time. You felt so good that you forgot how to breathe, and your head felt light. As the intensity died down and you relaxed against him, he began to taper his movements off until he came to a complete stop. As you caught your breath, he pulled back from you and looked up at your face. His eyes were heavy, and lust was hanging thick in the air. He needed you, and he did not have to say it aloud; you could feel it.

As he straightened up, his chin was glistening in the dim light, your orgasm lingering on his skin to remind you of the moment. “How was that, beautiful?” He asked, his voice husky. Your mind was still hazy as you admired his face, watching as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt.

“So, so good, baby.” You sighed, giving him a lazy smile.

“You want to keep going?” He asked, standing from the bed. You admired him, shirtless and standing over you. Your head was swimming with joy and your skin was ablaze with desire for him. You made it this far, and you wanted to go all the way. You were more than ready to take the step with him, especially after he was so caring and loving with you just moments before.

“Yes, please.” You whisper, giving him a smile. He returned the expression, slowly undoing his belt buckle, pulling it from the loops. His discarded it on the floor, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling down the zipper. You felt like you were holding your breath as you waited for him to undress, feeling excitement begin to build within you. He slipped out of his jeans, kicking them to the side. Then, he looked at you, making sure you were okay before he took off his boxers. He saw the admiration in your eyes, and it made his stomach flutter with adoration.

“You want me, sweet girl?” He whispered, his jaw tense as he watched you look at him in wonder.

“Yes, please.” You nod, waiting for him to advance further. He gave you a soft smile, pulling off his boxers and throwing them to the side. When he straightened up, your breath caught in your throat. He was stunning. The discreet toned muscles in his abdomen that were so often hidden by clothes took your breath away. The soft v-line leaning down from his hips was delicious, and you could feel the arousal begin to grow once more. When he stepped closer, the light seemed to shine on him a little more. You could see all of him, and he was breathtaking.

His cock was painfully hard, the tip red and glistening with pre-cum, and it was so enticing. Seeing all of him was something so special, and you almost regretted not doing it sooner. He kneeled before you on the bed, settling between your legs as he smiled down at you. “Hi, gorgeous.” He hummed, his expression sweet and his eyes showing you nothing but love.

“Hi,” you grinned, feeling excitement overtake all of the anxiety. He reached to the other side of the bed, grabbing a pillow.

“Lift your hips for me, sweetheart.” He said. You did as he told you, and he slid the cushion underneath you. “Should make it a little more comfortable.” He promised, leaning down and bracing his arm beside your head. He gave you a stupid smile that told you how enthusiastic he was. You couldn’t help but smile back, finding his joy infectious. He leaned a little further down, capturing you in a kiss. You melted into the feeling, so relieved at the comfortable and familiar feeling after so many new sensations. You closed your eyes, cupping his cheek in your hand to hold him to you. You wanted to live in the moment with him forever.

He didn’t rush you, kissing you softly for as long as you needed. It was messy, but it was beautiful. His teeth pulled your bottom lip between them, teasing you slightly. You smiled against him, finding the playfulness soothing. “I love you, Jake.” You mumble against his lips.

“I love you so much, Angel.” He whispers, looking down over your face. “I think you’re the most beautiful thing in the whole world, you know that right?” Your cheeks burn red, but you can’t hold back your smile. “You’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen, and I’m so lucky to have you.”

“I’m lucky to have you.” You sigh, your chest aching with the amount of love you have for him.

“Thank you for trusting me, y/n.” His voice is full of emotion now. The lust took the back burner, second to his love and appreciation for you.

“Thank you for being someone I can trust.” He smiled at your words, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours once more.

“Are you ready? If not, I can wait.” He assured you.

“I am.” You promised. “I’m ready.” He gave you another kiss, biting back another smile. He felt giddy with you, like it was his first time again, too. The strength in which he felt for you nearly brought him to his knees. He leaned back, looking down over your body with a look on his eyes you weren’t sure he’d ever seen before. It was so full of emotion that it made your stomach twist into knots. He spit into his hand, stroking himself before lining himself up with your entrance. He looked to you for approval, and you gave a slight nod of your head.

“It might be a little uncomfortable, so just tell me if it is, okay? Just want you to feel good, baby.”

“I will.” His concern with your pleasure was driving you crazy. He guided your legs around him and waited for a moment, giving you the chance to change your mind. When you said nothing, he slowly pushed himself inside of you.

The feeling was different, but not unpleasant. It took a moment to get used to it as he fully buried himself in you. He paused before moving any further, looking to see if you were okay. You couldn’t help but notice how full you felt, how well he fit with you, and how right it felt. You caught his eye, letting out a little sigh of satisfaction. The small sound nearly pushed him over the edge as he sat, completely still inside of you. His cock twitched slightly, the knowledge that you were enjoying him sending him feral.

“You want to wait, or do you want me to keep going?”

“Keep going, please.” You breathed, wanting more. He gave you a small smile, moving his hips ever so slightly. You tended slightly, adjusting to the feeling, but as he continued, it began to grow more comfortable. Soon after, prickles of pleasure started to ignite your skin. “Oh, Jake.” You sigh, letting your head fall back on the pillow. “That feels… so good.” His jaw clenched at your words, thrilled at your enjoyment.

“Yeah? You like it, baby?” He asked, reaching down and letting his fingers dust over your bare stomach. They trailed all the way to your chest as he cupped your breast in his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. His thumb toyed with your nipple, the small sensation sending a shiver down your spine.

“I do,” you breathe, nodding your head.

“So fucking tight,” he muttered to himself. “You feel so fucking good, angel. Doing so good for me.” Your walls clenched around him as he spoke, drawing him in further. He wasn’t moving very fast, but the feeling was more than enough. It was exactly what you’d been waiting for, even if you didn’t realize it before. Slowly, he began to pick up the pace, unable to hold himself back any longer. “Tell me if you need me to slow down, baby.”

“I will,” you moaned, feeling the intensity begin to build in your belly again. “God, Jake. F-faster, please.” You pleaded. He let out a groan, resembling more of a growl than anything else. He grabbed your hips, pulling you down towards him a little further. His thrusts sped, and he put a little more force behind his movements. He looked down, watching how your bodies fit together, feeling a whole new sense of desire as your hips met his with every thrust.

“You’re so fucking hot.” He groaned, leaning down and pulling you into a kiss. He’d waited so long to feel you like this, and he was afraid he might not be able to hold himself back.

“Fuck, Jake.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down closer to you. His hands on your hips felt so good, his fingers burning into you in the most intoxicating way. You felt better than you ever did before, and you never wanted to stop feeling that way. He was so enchanting, and everything he was doing was euphoric. You felt like you were melting into him, both of you becoming one as the fire burned in your hearts.

“Need you to cum for me one more time, angel. Just one more.” He pleaded, pulling you down on him as he thrusted into you. The angle he was hitting was intoxicating, pulling you in further with every move of his hips. His lips met your again in a heated kiss, your chests heaving as the intensity continued to consume you. Your stomach was twisted in knots and your forehead was glistening with sweat. Your whole body felt like it was ablaze with pleasure, and you needed more than he could give.

He pulled back from you, his hips still keeping a steady pace as his hand reached between you, circling around your clit once again. The second sensation to hold with a fervent appetite, consuming you entirely and making it impossible to think of anything else. His fingers on you and his cock filling you up was pushing you to euphoria, and your vision began to blur. Your mind was hazy as you tried to focus on his face, wondering how you got so lucky to be with someone so beautiful.

“You think you can give me one more, beautiful?” He asked, his voice shaking as he spoke. He was holding himself back to make sure you were pleased, but the idea of him being such a mess for you was driving you even closer to insanity. The most pleasurable part of the whole thing was knowing how good he felt, and how much he loved pleasing you.

“Y-yeah,” you managed a nod, looking up at him with desperate eyes. Your muscles were tightening as you tensed, preparing for the wave of pleasure about to wash over you. The burning in the pit of your stomach was familiar now, and you knew that he was the only one who knew how to get you there.

“Cum for me, baby.” He said, his thumb circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with precision. Your legs locked around him began to tremble, and your breathing was ragged. You were so close, and you needed it. More than that, you needed him to cum at the same time.

“Cum with me, please.” You pleaded, admiring the look of pleasure twisting his expression. He let out a groan at your words, his eyebrows knitting together as his hair hung down over his face. You’d never seen Jake look so ethereal before, and it was driving you mad.

“That’s what you want, angel? That will make you happy?”

“Please, Jake.” You said, reaching up and clasping your fingers around his bicep.

“Anything for my girl,” he muttered, his head falling back as he let out a string of curses. He even made the obscenities sound beautiful. You watched as the columns of his neck tightened and his Adams apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, sweat dripping delicately down across his skin. Strands of hair stuck to the damp skin, framing him in a picture you wished to burn into your mind until the end of time.

The climax hit you hard, and you clenched around him, crying his name as you felt the pleasure fill you completely. He didn’t have time to nurture you through it, because at the same time, his orgasm washed over him. As you rode out the high, his hips stuttered and a breathy moan fell from his lips. He spilled his release inside of you, the feeling so addicting that it forced you into another wave of pleasure. Heavy breathing was the only sound in the room, and after the intensity began to fade, Jake leaned down and wrapped you in his arms. Without withdrawing from you, he turned on his back and pulled you on top of him. With a giggle, you landed comfortably in his arms with a smile so wide it made your cheeks ache.

You rested your head on his chest, your skin still tingling with the ghost of your orgasm. You placed a kiss to the skin, feeling his heart thud against his ribcage. His hand trailed down your back, his fingers tickling you slightly as he traced shapes into your skin. For a moment, neither of you spoke, and you didn’t need to; the whole world felt perfect.

“How was that, angel?” He asked, reaching up and tucking your hair behind your ear. You grinned down at him, unable to put your thoughts into words. “Are you okay?”

“I’m great, Jake.” You assured him, leaning into the touch of his hand.

“You’re not hurt, are you? I wasn’t too rough?” His hand shot to your hip as he looked down, trying to see if he left any marks on you. He was panicking, worried that he hadn’t taken good enough care of you. The last thing he wanted was for you to be in pain.

“It was perfect, my love. It was better than I could have ever imagined.” You promised, leaning down and placing a soft kiss on his lips. He relaxed against you, feeling better at the sound of your words.

“So… it was good? You… you liked it?” He said, his own nerves getting the best of him. You could feel him start to go soft inside of you, but neither of you cared to move. You laid together, smiling in bliss at the moment.

“It was phenomenal… I had a fantastic time.” You said, blushing slightly. “Thank you, Jake. For everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me for anything, beautiful.” He pulled your head down so he could place a kiss to your forehead. “It was my pleasure.”

“I do, though. Thank you for being patient, and thank you for caring enough to wait it out. And… thank you for making my first time so special. I’ve always been kind of… afraid, I guess, and you made it so easy.”

“I’m glad I could do that for you, angel. You’re my biggest priority, and I just want to make sure you’re happy and comfortable, and I want you to have a good time.”

“I had such a good time.” You smiled, laying your head on his chest again. “Do you… you think maybe we can do it again, soon?” His grip tightened on you as he let out a small chuckle.

“Sweetheart, we can do it whenever you want. All you have to do is say the word.” He promised.

“I love you so much, Jake.” You whisper, pressing another kiss to his chest with a smile on your lips.

“You have no idea how much I love you, sweetheart.” He said, kissing the top of your head. “You are everything I’ve ever wanted and more.”

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slavicdelight · 6 months

Text

METANOIA

Pairing: Tom Riddle x f!reader

Summary: Metanoia - the journey of changing your mind, heart, self and way of life

Warnings: slightly ooc Tom, pureblood ideas, hits of murder

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Tom Riddle was a name recognized by everyone at Hogwarts. The infamous Slytherin Head Boy commanded respect from every student and even from professors, thanks to the aura surrounding him. However, what most people didn't know, or perhaps didn't care to notice, was that there was something sinister lurking behind his captivating gaze and mannerisms.

His friend group, constantly present by his side, consisted of members from the most well-known pureblood families. Tom considered himself superior to them because he possessed the blood of the noble Salazar Slytherin. By the age of 19, he had already committed horrifying acts, such as opening the Chamber of Secrets during his 5th year, resulting in the death of Myrtle Warren. He also murdered his remaining family around the same time. Furthermore, he created Horcruxes in order to reach immortality, which was one of his goals and the initial step towards becoming the greatest dark wizard in history.

Tom was a skilled manipulator. He had the ability to hide his true emotions, always putting on a mask of politeness. In addition, he was brilliant and could be described as an over-achiever. Tom thoroughly planned everything and never allowed setbacks to hinder him. There was only one person who saw right through him - Dumbledore, the person Tom despised the most in the entire school.

Tonight, Tom was strolling through the hallways of Hogwarts, carrying out his patrols as a Head Boy. Although it was generally a mundane duty, it had its advantages. One of them was being out after curfew without anyone questioning it. The corridors were dimly lit, so Tom had to cast a spell to produce light to see clearly."Lumos." he muttered, before continuing on his way. It appeared to be another uneventful night, where nothing of particular interest occurred.

As he was heading back to the Slytherin dorms, someone bumped into him, causing both teenagers to fall to the ground. "I'm so sorry," said a girl who appeared to be about the same age as him, possibly a year younger. He was about to reprimand her for running into him and give her detention for breaking curfew, but then he looked at her and was instantly captivated by the most beautiful pair of eyes he had even seen. They were warm and welcoming, but what truly enthralled him was their enchanting violet color, which sparkled under the light emerging from his wand.

"I should've watched where I was going," continued the witch. He cleared his throat and gave her a cold stare, trying to hide his intrigue. "Why aren't you in your dorm? It's past curfew," Tom questioned the girl. Another surprising thing was that he had no idea who she was. He only noticed the Ravenclaw emblem on her robes, indicating that she was a member of the eagle house. The Slytherin prided himself on knowing almost everyone at school, from students to professors, yet he didn't know her. How could someone with such captivating eyes escape his attention? "Oh, right. I got caught up in the library and forgot about the curfew," she explained. "I'll go straight to bed." With that, she tried to pass him and walk away.

She wanted to end the interaction as quickly as possible, knowing that Tom Riddle was trouble. Despite his perfect student persona, she sensed a hidden darkness beneath the surface and wanted to avoid getting involved. "Now, now. I can't possibly let the witch with such incredible eyes leave without knowing her name, can I?" he asked, causing her to freeze. "I fail to see how my name is of any interest to you, Riddle. I would prefer you not knowing it and allowing me to go.”

Tom didn't expect his charm not to work, but he hid his surprise. He wondered if the girl was brave or stupid, perhaps both. She didn't know that she piqued his interest, and that was something dangerous. "It hardly seems fair that you know me, but I don't know you, don't you think?" He took a step closer to her but didn't predict what she would do next. "No, I don't," she said, while taking a step back and bolting in another direction. The Head Boy simply stood there and let her get away. 'Let her run,' he thought. 'I shall find her anyway.' And with that, he continued on his way to the dorms.

The next morning, during breakfast, he scanned the Great Hall in search of her. Tom tried to be discreet, but his best friend, Abraxas Malfoy, noticed. Abraxas was his most reliable follower, someone Tom could trust. "What are you looking for, Riddle?" he asked. The boy with raven hair turned to glare at him and said, "It's none of your business, Malfoy." He was becoming increasingly frustrated that the witch from the previous night was nowhere to be found.

Finally, the girl made her entrance, walking into the hall accompanied by another girl. They both headed towards the Ravenclaw's table and took a seat. He couldn't help but gaze at her. It was as if she sensed his gaze, as she turned and looked directly into his eyes. Their staring contest continued until Headmaster Dippet began greeting students and wishing them a good day.

After finishing his meal, Tom made his way to the Potions classroom, his first subject of the day. He enjoyed this class, despite Professor Slughorn being a bit overwhelming. Tom was the professor's favorite student, excelling in this class just as he did in every other. He was an exceptionally talented wizard.

It turned out he shared the class with the violet-eyed witch. He wondered why he hadn't noticed her before. He took his usual seat and waited for the Ravenclaw student to enter, which didn't take long. She sat two rows ahead of him, accompanied by a boy he recognized as the Ravenclaw's seeker. Shortly after, Slughorn entered and the lesson began. Today, they had to brew an advanced potion called the Elixir to Induce Euphoria in pairs. As always, Tom was the first to finish his potion, with the help of his partner, Rosier. The potions professor, impressed with their work, allowed them to leave early. Tom decided to wait outside the classroom to talk to the girl who had sparked his interest and learn more about her.

As the girl walked out, he quickly grabbed her hand and dragged her towards the abandoned broom closet across the hall. She protested, but wasn't strong enough to break free from his grasp. Tom pushed her inside and blocked the entrance.

"Hello again," he said, noticing the anger on the girl's face. "What do you think you're doing? Let me go!" she yelled, attempting to escape from the classroom.

"No, I don't think I will," Tom replied. "What do you want, Riddle?" she questioned, gritting her teeth. Her captivating eyes locked with his, and he could swear they had the power to melt a man. But he was no ordinary man, and he wouldn't allow that to defeat him. "I already told you what I want," he started, before she interrupted, "and I already told you that you won't have that." The girl had some nerve, he had to give her that. "Listen, darling, either you tell me your name yourself or I'll find out on my own. But I would prefer to hear it from your beautiful lips.”

"And what?" she spat, her eyes narrowing with a mix of defiance and fear. "Will you force it out of me?" If looks could kill, he would already be six feet under. Tom's lips curled into a malicious smirk as he leaned in closer, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. "You'll soon discover that I can be very..." He paused, relishing in the anticipation he was building. "...persuasive." The words hung in the air, sending a shiver down her spine. As he observed her reaction, he couldn't help but notice the subtle trembling of her breath, a sign that his presence and words were affecting her.

“If I tell you my name, would you stop pestering me about it?” she asked not looking into his eyes. Tom grabbed her chin and forced her head up, just enough for him to see her eyes. The Slytherin just nodded and took a step back. “Fine. My name is Y/N” she finally answered and moved past him, heading straight for the door. As Y/N was walking away she heard him say “Such a beautiful name, for someone with such extraodrinary eyes.”

Y/N felt a chill run down her spine as she left the broom closet, the encounter with Tom Riddle leaving her unsettled. She couldn't shake the feeling that she had just opened a door to a world of complications. Her day continued with classes, but her mind kept wandering back to the mysterious encounter with the enigmatic Head Boy.

Days turned into weeks, and Tom's fascination with Y/N only deepened. He started to make subtle attempts to engage her in conversation during Potions class or whenever their paths crossed in the hallways. Y/N, however, remained guarded, careful not to reveal too much about herself. She sensed danger around Tom, but there was also a part of her that felt an inexplicable connection, an undeniable intrigue that kept her from avoiding him completely. She didn’t like it, preferring to stay away from the drama that would undeniably follow her once she got too involved with the boy.

As time passed, Tom's pursuit became more relentless. He would show up unexpectedly in places where Y/N was, asking about her interests, her family, and her background. Y/N, althrough in the beginning sheltered and slightly annoyed, soon found herself drawn into conversations that danced on the edge of forbidden topics, and Tom, turn, discovered that there was more to Y/N than met the eye.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Tom found Y/N sitting by the Black Lake,reading a book . He approached her cautiously, and for the first time, his demeanor seemed less calculated, more genuine."You're a puzzle, Y/N," he said, his voice softer than usual. "I can't quite figure you out." Y/N turned to look at him, her violet eyes searching his face for any sign of deception. "Maybe some puzzles are meant to remain unsolved," she replied cryptically. Tom chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down her spine. "Maybe so, yet here we are. Both of us puzzling each other. But I do enjoy the challenge." he admitted. "And you, my dear, are the most intriguing challenge I've found at Hogwarts so far."

As the weeks turned into months, their interactions became more complex. Y/N found herself reluctantly drawn to Tom's charisma and intelligence, while Tom, discovered a more vulnerable side of himself. He couldn't quite understand why Y/N had such an effect on him, but he was determined to find out.

Their dynamic took a turn one evening in the Hogwarts library. Tom, managed to convince Y/N to join him in exploring the restricted section. As they looked through ancient tomes and hidden spells, Y/N couldn't ignore the growing tension between them. In the quiet space of the library, Tom leaned in, his dark eyes locking onto hers. "There's something about you, Y/N," he murmured, his breath sending shivers across her skin. "Something that both intrigues and unsettles me." Y/N looked at him curiously and asked “What is so unsettling about me?”. Tom only looked at her and leaning closer said “You’re making me feel things I’ve never felt before.”

As they continued their meetings, the lines between friend and enemy slowly became blurred. Tom’s past and his ambitions started to rub off on her, making her question everything. But she wasn’t weak and wanted to stay true to the right side. She wasn’t about to go down the same path as the Slytherin boy, and wanted to make him see that it was wrong. Little did she know that the choices made in the upcoming months would shape the destiny of the wizarding world.

As the weeks unfolded, Y/N found herself in a dangerous position. The more time she spent with Tom Riddle, the clearer it became that he was wavering on the edge of darkness. His thirst for power, his relentless pursuit of immortality, and the shadows of his past painted a grim picture. Yet, among all this darkness, Y/N saw moments of vulnerability, moments where the mask slipped, revealing a fractured soul. Y/N couldn't ignore the pull she felt toward Tom, a pull that went beyond fascination. Beneath his charming facade, she noticed loneliness that mirrored her own.

One evening, as snowflakes danced outside the castle windows, Y/N found Tom alone in the library. The fire cast a glow on his face, making him appear more handsome than ever. Y/N hesitated but she knew she had to ask the next question. "Tom," she began softly, "there's something I've been meaning to ask you." He looked up, his piercing gaze meeting hers. "Ask away, Y/N."

"Why are you so afraid of letting people in?" she inquired, her voice gentle but filled with genuine curiosity. Tom's eyes moved towards her, she could see suffering behind them. He took a deep breath before replying to her."People often betray and are fake in order to get what they want from you. After they get it, they leave and never come back.” Y/N took a step closer, closing the distance between them. "But it's also lonely, isn't it? To carry the weight of responsibilities on your shoulders without anyone to share it with."

Tom's mask wavered, revealing the boy beneath the facade. "Loneliness is a small price to pay for greatness," he stated, but a small amount of doubt could be seen in his eyes. "Maybe attaining greatness isn’t meant to be done alone." Y/N suggested. "Maybe it's in the connections we make, the people we let in"

In the days that followed, Y/N continued to challenge Tom's perspective. She introduced him to the joy of laughter, the warmth of genuine friendships, and the beauty of simple moments. As the walls around his heart slowly crumbled, Y/N became a beacon of light in his world, a reminder that there was more to life than power and darkness.

One evening, beneath the sky covered in stars, Y/N and Tom found themselves strolling through the Hogwarts grounds. Tom, usually composed, seemed uncertain, as if something was bothering him. "You don't have to be alone, Tom," Y/N whispered, her words carrying the weight of sincerity. "There's goodness in you, which you only have to choose." For the first time, Tom Riddle looked genuinely conflicted. The darkness within him warred with the flickers of light that Y/N had ignited. He was standing on the crossroads where the choices made would shape the future.

In the quiet of the night, Y/N extended her hand, a silent invitation to choose a different path. Tom hesitated, his gaze locking onto hers. And in that moment, the boy who had been consumed by shadows took a small step toward the light, changing the course of history forever. The journey towards redemption would be a long one, but with Y/N by his side, Tom Riddle was confident in succeeding. He realized that greatness could be found not in the pursuit of power but in the capacity to love and be loved.

ღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღ

A/N: let me introduce you to my first ever Tom Riddle imagine. The obsession I have with this man is unhealthy. Anyway let me know if you enjoyed it. Thank you for all the support ♡

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23victoria · 18 days

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𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙸𝚗 𝙼𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚌𝚘

𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚘𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚛 𝚙𝚒𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚒 𝚡 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 𝟷.𝟸𝚔

✾ 𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝚢/𝚗 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚞𝚕𝚊 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝙼𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚌𝚘 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚊 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛!

❁ 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚎! 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏!

✿ 𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎: 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚛! 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢! 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎, 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐!! ꨄ

The sun glistens over the Mediterranean, casting a warm golden hue over the streets of Monaco. The narrow, winding roads are alive with excitement, the air thick with the hum of engines and the palpable thrill of anticipation. You are here for your first Formula 1 race, invited by your friend Layla. The energy of the crowd, the beauty of the yachts docked in the harbor, and the historic charm of the city-state enchant you.

As you make your way through the bustling paddock, you notice a tall, striking brown haired man in a McLaren suit. Oscar Piastri, his name tag reads. His eyes catch yours for a brief moment, and you see a flicker of something—curiosity, perhaps—before you continue on your way. Little do you know, he’s been completely captivated by you.

Oscar watches you disappear into the crowd, his heart racing faster than it does on the track. He’s smitten, enthralled by your beauty and the way you seem to light up the space around you. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he refocuses on the race ahead. But throughout the preparations, your face lingers in his mind, a sweet distraction.

The race begins with the usual roar of engines and the eager cheers of the crowd. The winding streets of Monaco prove as challenging as ever, each corner and straight demanding the utmost precision. Oscar finds his rhythm, pushing his McLaren to its limits. Every now and then, thoughts of you slip in, urging him to perform at his best.

Lap after lap, the race unfolds with gripping intensity. Leclerc leads the race, closely followed by Verstappen, while Oscar holds his own in third. The streets blur into a high-speed ballet of color and sound. Oscar’s focus never wavers, and as the final laps approach, he knows he’s got a shot at the podium.

The checkered flag waves, signaling the end of a grueling but exhilarating race. Charles takes first place, Max in second, and Oscar crosses the line in third. The podium finish is a triumph, but as he climbs the steps and looks out over the crowd, all he can think about is finding you.

The podium ceremony is a whirlwind of the crowd cheering, trophies, and champagne. Oscar accepts his third-place trophy with a smile, but his eyes scan the crowd, searching for you. As the national anthems play and the crowd cheers, he wonders if you’re still here, somewhere among the thousands of fans.

Once the ceremony concludes, Oscar makes his way through the paddock, his heart set on finding you. Luck seems to be on his side, as he spots you near one of the hospitality suites, talking to a Mercedes engineer named Layla. Taking a deep breath, he approaches just as Layla leaves, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Hi there,” he says, his voice more confident than he feels. “I’m Oscar.”

You turn, surprised but pleased to see him. “Hello, Oscar. I’m Y/N.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N,” he says, a smile breaking across his face. “I noticed you before the race started earlier, but I didn’t have a chance to talk to you, now that it ended, I just wanted to say hi.”

You smile back, feeling a flutter of excitement. “It’s nice to meet you too, Oscar. This is my first race. Layla invited me, and it’s been quite an experience.”

Oscar’s eyes light up with genuine interest. “Your first race? What did you think about it? Did you have fun?”

“It was incredible,” you reply. “The atmosphere, the speed, the sound of the engines—it’s all so fascinating. Though, I have to admit, I don’t know much about Formula 1.”

He chuckles, his nervousness easing. “That’s okay. There’s a lot to learn, but it sounds like you’re enjoying it. And I have to say, you picked a great race to attend. Monaco is something special.”

You nod, glancing around at the glamorous surroundings. “It really is. I’m glad I got to experience it.”

Oscar hesitates for a moment, then gathers his courage. “Are you busy later? I’d love to show you more of Monaco, if you’re interested.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you can’t help but smile. “I’d love that.”

“Great,” he says, relief evident in his voice. “Can I get your number? I’ll text you the details of where we’re going.”

You exchange numbers, and Oscar promises to text you in a few. As he walks away, he feels a surge of happiness, the promise of the evening ahead leaving a warm feeling throughout his body.

Later, as the sun begins to set, you receive a message from Oscar: “Be ready by 6. I’ll pick you up from your hotel.”

Excitement buzzes through you as you get ready, choosing a casual yet stylish outfit. When 6 o’clock rolls around, you’re waiting in the lobby, a mix of nerves and anticipation coursing through you. Oscar arrives right on time, looking relaxed and happy to see you.

“Ready to go?” he asks, his smile infectious.

“Absolutely,” you reply, matching his grin.

He takes you to a charming seaside restaurant, the perfect spot for a relaxed dinner. The view is breathtaking, the sky painted in hues of orange and pink as the sun sets over the water. As you sit down, you can’t help but feel that this evening is going to be something special.

Over dinner, the conversation flows easily. Oscar asks about your hobbies, and you tell him about your love for baking, painting, and your other hobbies. He listens intently, genuinely interested in everything you have to say.

“I love to surf,” he shares when it’s his turn. “Growing up in Australia, it was something I did all the time. And, of course, racing is a huge part of my life.”

You smile apologetically. “I have to admit, I didn’t know much about you before today. I’m still learning about Formula 1.”

Oscar laughs, shaking his head. “That’s okay. It gave me a great excuse to talk to you.”

You laugh with him, the tension of the day melting away. The conversation continues, light and easy, as you both share stories and experiences. The food is delicious, but it’s the company that makes the evening truly memorable.

After dinner, Oscar suggests a walk along the beach. The air is cool, the sound of the waves soothing as you stroll along the shoreline. The sky has darkened, stars beginning to twinkle overhead.

“This place is beautiful,” you say, gazing out at the water.

“It really is,” Oscar agrees. “I’m glad we came here.”

As you walk, the conversation turns more personal. You talk about your families, your dreams, your fears. Oscar’s openness and warmth make you feel comfortable, and you find yourself sharing more than you usually would.

Eventually, you find a spot on the sand, sitting down with your feet in the water. The waves lap gently at your toes, the night sky stretching endlessly above.

“I really enjoyed tonight,” you say, looking over at Oscar. “It was...unexpected, but in the best way.”

“I feel the same,” he replies, his gaze meeting yours. “This was one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time.”

You sit in comfortable silence for a while, the sound of the ocean a soothing backdrop. There’s a sense of something beginning, a connection that feels both new and familiar.

“I’d love to do this again sometime,” Oscar says quietly, breaking the silence.

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through you. “I’d like that too.”

#ꨄ࿎victoria’s writings!࿎ꨄ #formula 1 #formula one #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x fem!reader #dividers by @cafekitsune #oscar piastri fluff #op81 #op81 x reader #op81 fic #op81 fluff #op81 x you

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hobisfavoritespritecan · 3 months

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𝕸𝖆𝖈𝖆𝖇𝖗𝖊

PART TWO

Pairing : Hannibal X Reader

⚠️ Warnings: implications of sexuality, things get steamy for a minute, reader brings up sexual traumas, Hannibal wants to murder the guy, yeah⚠️

After your initial meeting with the doctor, another appointment leaves you wondering just how much of your character you're willing to share, and how peculiar your situation with Hannibal Lecter may be.

Your jacket whipped hard against your body as the wind really picked up; weather forecasters had mentioned that tonight would not only be a significantly cold one, but everyone on foot would be subject to rain and thunder. Thankfully, the foreseen lightning wasn’t supposed to hit until after your meeting with Dr. Lecter, which you were thankful for. Still, the night seemed eerie and even creepier was the looming building before you, its high walls and seemingly taller windows looking down upon the freshly tilled earth below. The architecture of the building with its corinthian patterns and lavish details had raindrops cascading into the most beautiful ripples with the water splashing onto the sidewalk leading up to the man you had awaited to speak to in anticipation all afternoon.

You hurried yourself inside, finally letting your hold on your coat loose as you no longer had to battle the forces of the weather. Your heels had picked up some of the mud from the outside and to your dismay, had stained the ends of them. Why had you chosen to wear the red ones? The rest of you, however, was fairly dry as you had done a good job protecting your hair and business attire clothing from the rain. You had hoped Dr. Lecter would have something to dry your shoes off with as you didn’t want to come across as rude for walking in with muddied heels. You tried your best not to slip on the hardwood with your shoes in the state that they were in.

Walking to the waiting room, you sat down on one of the comfortable chairs, waiting for the man himself to come and retrieve you for your one weekly session. Things had been going fairly well with him and the more time you spent with the doctor, the more you felt yourself opening up and becoming more and more comfortable in his presence. The feeling seemed to be mutual between the two of you, and he seemed to be sincerely interested in your conversations, and not just in the “I’m a therapist so I have to pretend to care about your problems kind of way.” And oh, was he so observant and understanding. It was hard not to be enthralled with someone so interesting, charismatic, and charming. Even with the comfortability you felt with the man, you couldn’t help but notice the darkness in his eyes that you had before; something so entrancing about the way he spoke to you as he gazed into yours. You found yourself melting into his comforting words and allowing him into the crevices of your brain that you hadn’t allowed anyone to do before.

A few minutes after you had been seated, you heard the large, heavy door opened on your right, signaling that the moment you had been waiting for all day was about to happen.You had silently scolded yourself for not wearing better protection for the weather and gave your clothes a pat-down before standing up coming face-to-face with Will Graham. He must've been just leaving his appointment like the first time you'd met except he somehow seemed to be in an even worse state than before. His eyes were droopy and his glasses were foggy as every gravitational force tried to turn against him and make the frames fall off his nose. His clothes were slightly damp and his hair was flying in multiple strands.

His appearance (although you'd hate to admit it out loud) made you feel slightly better about yours. If Hannibal was okay with Will walking in like that, then maybe he wouldn't care all that much about your muddied shoes.

"Hello Will." You said, trying to be friendly with the man even after he'd shown such blatant rudeness to you the first time you'd met.

"Ah, hello- uhm-" he said, looking for the words.

"(Y/N)." You said, offering up a smile knowing now that if you were to reach out for a handshake he might not be so inclined.

“Right,” He said, with more courtesy this time than before, “He’s all yours.” You didn’t realize there could be a joking bone in Will’s body but this statement brought out a chuckle from you. “Thanks.” Was all you replied.

• • • 💉💉💉 • • •

The marble flooring led to the lavish room you had remembered almost to perfection by now. It had become something of a safe haven for you, as you were often here, but it was also a place where you had truly allowed yourself the ability to truly feel. You stood in the doorway still, taking note of Hannibal sitting at his desk with a warm smile and inviting eyes, staring at you from where he sat, this time wearing a grey button-up and a black tie.

“Do you happen to have a towel I could dry my shoes off with?” You asked, trying your best to keep up appearances but also to be respectful of his space, “I don’t want to stain your carpet.”

Hannibal found his heart doing cartwheels in his chest. It was as if you always knew the right thing to say that would make him fond of you and your visits. You were always so careful, so polite, it shook him to his core sometimes. He pushed back his chair and pushed up his sleeves, pulling out the handkerchief he had in the pocket of his trousers as he made his way over to your frame.

“May I?” He asked, moving downwards towards your heels, not taking his eyes off yours once. He so divinely looked up at you with soft eyes, softer than you’d ever seen them, an image of feigned innocence. It was as if it were nothing more than an impression of innocence, however, as his movements suggested his interests in something more profound- something more lustrous.

This movement took you off guard as he waited for your permission to clean the soles. It was a polite gesture, sure, one that you wouldn’t think twice of if anyone else had asked. Coming from him, however, brought a blush to your face. “I-I don’t mind cleaning them up myself, I-”

“I insist.”

You nodded softly, allowing him to gently wipe off the remainder of the mud within a few short seconds. Almost as fast as the offer had been extended to you, he was back upright with his eyes slightly above level to yours, a smile on his face as he threw the cloth into the can by the door. He walked towards the chair he usually sat at that would begin the long sessions between the two of you and held up the clipboard that was placed on the side table.

“Shall we begin?” He asked, paying no mind to the flushed mess you were in the corner. It was almost as if he knew how you felt deep down and had decided to torture you with extra long glances and sweet, meaningful gestures. Here he was, smiling to you once more as if he hadn’t just thrown you into a frenzy of being forced to hurriedly collect yourself.

“Yes.” You said, heading over to the sofa that had become your usual position across from the doctor. You pat your skirt down as you sat, turning so that your back was up against the chaise lounge in the most comfortable position you could possibly muster after a stunt like that. You pursed your lips as you awaited his first question or observation that would throw the both of you into the conversations you were familiar with.

Things had become different with you and Hannibal as of late. He was always trying his best to do something sweet for you that most people wouldn't think of doing. He was so kind in his words and his actions that you were beginning to feel some sort of longing in you, much to your dismay. Crushing on your therapist wasn't something you'd ever want to do, especially after not dating for so long. There was no way the feeling was mutual, right? This all had to be a coincidence.

“So, (Y/N),” he began, resting one leg atop the other with his ankle against his knee and his notes on top. The pen was twirling in between his fingertips as he took a deep breath. He was in no rush to start the session, it seemed. “Tell me some more about what we’d discussed last Wednesday.”

You felt yourself starting to relive some of those painful memories you tried so hard to shut down. You had mentioned to Dr. Lecter the unfortunate circumstances of your last relationship, which had left you with more trauma than exhilaration. He had twisted all of your words against you and left you crying to yourself many nights, leaving you wondering if he even cared. He was always on the phone with other women or trying his best to court them that it had become the norm for you to find other laundry mixed in with yours or extra makeup items lying around the house. It was such a stressful time for you and was even more stressful for you to find a way to leave the relationship as the months dragged on.Two years ago, you had spent only seven months with this man and your life had gone up in flames.

“I find myself looking into the mirror sometimes and seeing the image of me through his eyes.” You started, starting this conversation off with a whisper as it was hard to just instantly delve into the traumas you’d had in your life. You noticed for a moment that your therapist’s gaze darkened and his expression changed from concern to what appeared to be anger before he went back to his usually calm demeanor.

“His image of you being…?”

Your breath hitched in your throat ever so slightly. It was still a difficult discussion to have and a conversation you tended to avoid whenever you could. You knew you could trust Hannibal with this information, but your body held onto the weight of the events you’d experienced and made it difficult for them to fly out into the open, instead, they laid deep within your soul as they fed on the negative thoughts they placed into your brain.

“He would always comment on my appearance. Compare me to other women.” You started to play with the hem of your skirt, looking up to the tall roof above you and trying to keep yourself calm. You had gotten over the stage in your life where you’d have panic attacks over these times of remembrance, but there was still fear in sharing them. “I always felt so belittled, so unimportant. I gave him everything I could to maintain the peace and to convince him to fall in love with me again but it just never worked out in my favor.”

Hannibal felt his chest tighten. It was clear that this man had done so much damage to you, but why? Why would he have chosen the most polite and caring person he could to ruin? He felt anger and sadness on your behalf- something he didn’t find himself doing with others very often. He couldn’t usually relate to anyone all that well as he had notoriously looked down upon them. You, however, were a different story. You brought out something animalistic in him, something that he had never ventured into before. Of course, he had found other women attractive before (there was that one time with Bedelia), but this was unlike him to have an infatuation with someone of this standing. He wanted you, wanted to know you, and strangely he wanted you to know him. He saw you as an equal and dare he say, he might’ve even thought of you as better than himself.

He would never, ever, dream of putting you through the kind of mental torment others had. Ever.

“What would you give him to keep this peace?” He regretted asking the question as soon as it left his mouth but he just had to know. He had to learn more about you, how to approach situations with you and how to handle your insecurities. He would become the walking image of the perfect man and he would stop at absolutely nothing to obtain that. He wanted you to be his. Purely a product of his own creation. He knew he would mold you into the shape you were always meant to have and give you back the power those in your life had tried to take from you.

You took a deep breath as you prepared yourself to finally let the truth seep out, to let the reason why you had decided to take up therapy in the first place to arise. You had hoped Hannibal would be able to take the knowledge.

“My body was the only thing I could offer him as that was the only thing he wanted.”

Hannibal’s anger was on overdrive now, trying to take over. He kept himself composed on the outside while his insides seemed to light on fire. He was beyond upset. But he felt the anger subside ever so slightly when he calmly looked to you and asked for the man’s name.

He was going to have to consult his ethically sourced butcher.

#fanfiction #hobisfavoritespritecan #hannibal x reader #hannibal lecter #hannibal #hannibal nbc #mads mikkelsen #mads mikkelsen x reader

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missglaskin · 2 years

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Yan!Targaryen boys with a Stark!Darling

Reader is similar to Lyanna’s place per request, which got deleted while I was working on it.

I have also added other Targaryen boys because they need much more love

Warnings: EXPLICIT, implications/some details of Noncon (especially with Maegor) so beware

Daemon Targaryen

It was during a tourney where you first met the rogue prince. Where he had crowned you the maiden of love and beauty. A deed that infuriated your betrothed’s house. Despite knowing better, you indulged in the act; speaking to the rogue prince the following day. Maybe it's your betrothed being a drunken old fool that made you entangle yourself with the charming and spirited prince Daemon.

And then a day came when he gifted you a necklace, gasping in awe when seeing it's made of Valyrian steel. And before long, the rogue prince invited himself to your chambers. Laying on top of you, slamming thick cock in and out of your gushing hole. Your expression melts into pure bliss and lips open in a silent scream as the powerful orgasm seeps over you.

Soon you sought him out so often. That it was inevitable. Telling him all while weeping. You're with child. But Daemon doesn't appear to be in the least bit concerned, and he calmly makes a suggestion; wed him. So you did, even when he already had a wife and you were promised to another.

Maegor I Targaryen

In Winterfell, everyone was astonished to see the enormous silhouette in the sky resembling one of a dragon landing. The enormous black dread fills the heart with terror as its head turns. The crowd moves aside so that the lady of Winterfell can approach the beast. Watched by King Maegor as she tries to scale the large dragon.

As soon as he noticed the king's eyes following you around the court, your father sent you to Winterfell with the intention of having you wed off to someone else. But Maegor had other ideas, not only threatening your house but also that of your betrothed. Truly, you never knew what made you catch his eye, but does it matter when your fate has already been sealed.

Instead of the wedding you expected, it's the first taste of what is to come that greets you. After Maegor landed, far from other people's lines of sight. His full weight is on top of you, breasts flattened against his chest. His cock buried deep inside your cunt as he moves, hating how your walls clench so tightly around his length. After that, you are welcomed by a wedding. All with bruised hips and dried cum-stained thighs.

Jacaerys Velaryon

You were enthralled by Jace the moment he set foot on Winterfell, and so was he. You had to remind the prince many times of your betrothal, even so, you kept giving in to his advances. And soon you’ve stopped reminding him and even grown to forget the man you’re meant to wed. And shortly after, lust started to replace infatuation. The first time you fucked was in the snow. It wasn't an ideal first time, but it was certainly a fond memory. It was before you exchanged your wedding vows, bribing some drunk septon.

In your chambers, the two of you continued your wedding night. As you climb up on top of him, meeting his lips as you grab his cock teasing the head through your slick folds. Jace whines into your mouth as you slowly sank down his cock. His hand reaches to grab your hips, gently guiding you in back-and-forth movements. The sound of your shared moans echoed through the chambers.

But everything comes to an end when the septon confesses to your brother out of guilt. And when a servant informs him they heard noises coming from your chambers, it only infuriated him more. Your brother probably would have killed Jace if you hadn't stepped in. You confess that the two of you are wed. And your brother frowns, asking if you truly understand the implications of this. That Winterfell will no longer be your home. And in all your recklessness, you failed to see this.

Baelon Targaryen

Baelon was always been sweet to you, even now, as he consoles you after learning about your arrangement. It seems both of your fathers had plans. But so did he. There you were given instructions to meet him at the dragon pit late at night using certain passages. And you followed his instructions to the letter; as promised, he was there to greet you atop Vhagar. When Baelon landed Vhagar, a septon met you there, and you and Baelon were secretly married soon after.

Your maidenhood was already taken by Baelon, many times in fact. Yet that night felt far more intimate. You whimper when feeling his length slowly filling you up and half-lidded eyes are on you as he pushes himself deeper. Your nipples peaked against his chest, a mantra of pleads uttered from your lips, swollen and flushed. Baelon’s breathy moans reach your ears, feeling you clench so tightly around his cock. His body tensed as he came, creaming you with all his cum.

Both of your families were furious when you two returned to King's Landing, but as was to be expected, nothing was done beyond a few lectures and disappointed looks. Living in King's Landing, where summer lasts a lot longer and having a devoted husband as your only companion, you assumed you'd be the happiest person alive. Yet, there are times where you feel homesick. Telling Baelon you wish to go home, only for him to press a gentle kiss on your head and tell you you’re already home.

Aegon II Targaryen

Right from the start, Aegon made his intentions known. Whichever lord you were engaged to didn't matter to him. He wants you, and Aegon always gets what he wants. The worst predicament is that you actually enjoy it; given that the man you are supposed to marry is rumored to be already old, the idea of a young, charming prince pursuing you thrills you in the most heinous ways. You should’ve resisted his advances when he had you in a corner, instead, your body ached for his touch.

And when the prince asked for you to come to his chambers, you did so. Many times after, you come to find the prince loves to lie down and watch you do all the work. Lips exhaling as you sat down on him slowly, feeling his girth filling you up. Aegon throws his head back in pleasure as his hands are on your waist to guide you. His hands at times stray to your breasts, fingers brushing your nipples until it hardens, pinching it just to hear your low hiss.

Every other night, you have to push the prince off of you so you can leave his bed to not get caught by the servants. But this time, he convinced you to stay. In the morning, you sensed a presence. It wasn’t a servant. You wished it was. Instead, it was his mother, horrifyingly staring at the two of you. You screech, reaching for the covers to cover your naked body, and tried to get out of bed, but a hand grabs you. It’s Aegon who’s now awake, dragging you closer to him as he speaks to his mother as if there wasn’t a naked person in his bed.

Daeron I Targaryen

It was the hour of the owl. A knock was hard, and the instinct in your gut warned you against opening the door. Still, you've opened it and greeted by the sight of Daeron. Your stomach flutters under his intense gaze. You knew why he was here. To Daeron, he saw you first. That staked his claim before whatever lord your father arranged you to. This was his way of getting back to your father. His way of ensuring his claim. After all, when have you ever known Daeron to ever back down.

Daeron closes the distance, moving his lips on yours, tongue coaxing your lips apart. And before long, Daeron was on top of you. A heavy weight builds in the pit of your stomach with him rolling his hips in a way that his cock will brush every inch of your inner walls. His eyes never left yours as he spilled into you with a guttural moan. His hot cum flooding your inner walls.

You dread waking up the next day. Having to face your father's wrath over what transpired. He'd have lunged at the prince right then and there, but he chose to value his life more. Your father made you know of his disappointment as he watched you and Daeron exchange vows. You wondered if it was all worth it even days after your husband was crowned king and you his queen.

Aemond Targaryen

You didn’t have the heart to see Aemond upon hearing of your arrangement. The thought of facing him was too daunting. On the day before you depart for Winterfell, you hear a knock on your door late at night and it comes as no surprise when you see the prince. Before you can even have a chance to speak, Aemond makes you a proposal. As the years went by, your heart came to only yearn for him, and at the moment where love engulfed your mind and senses, you agreed to it.

Holding hands as you sneak through the hallways. Finding yourself in some secret place face to face with a Septon. You thought you always wanted this. So why does your hand waver. Finally, it dawns on you what you've done and the repercussions that'll follow. Yet you two already said your vows. There's a sliver of hope that this all can be fixed; after all, you haven't consummated your union yet. But Aemond has already made up his mind.

And not seconds later, the prince has buried his face between your thighs-your nightgown pulled up to your hips. Feeling a tight pressure on your stomach as he licks between your folds like a starved man. And all soon finding yourself forgetting any doubts or the fury that will be shown to you in the morning as his thick cock fills you up and stretches you wide.

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tonicandjins · 1 year

Text

frequent flyers | lee donghyuck

CHARACTERS: haechan | lee donghyuck x fem reader

WORD COUNT: 13k

GENRE: angst, fluff, smut (non-linear) | best friends to strangers

AUTHOR'S NOTE: read with caution. this is written in a non-linear form, so you don't know when it's going to hurt ;) this is a dh x reader version of my markhyuck fic from ao3, but with a different ending

frequent flyers is the third installment from 23 moments with donghyuck

Donghyuck looks beautiful like this: skin glowing under the dainty string lines and lined up lanterns hanging from the high ceilings, lips curled up to genuine smile instead of the usual teasing smirk plastered on his mouth, cheeks tainted in berry red—a single manifestation of the glasses of wine he’s had tonight, eyes round and sincere and everything you’ve ever known.

Zhong Chenle’s mellifluous voice echoes in the banquet, singing to the tune of lover as the newly weds take their first dance (third song in) in the middle of the floor, surrounded by couples and lovers swaying. From your peripheral view, you catch a glimpse of Park Jisung sneaking his phone out and recording the whole thing—after Chenle clearly mentioned no one else aside from the newlyweds’ assigned videographer is allowed to film him.

On other days, you’d love to listen to Chenle’s golden voice, and he knows this because from all the years you’ve known him, you’d supported his career and you’d spend many hours sitting in his studio, listening to him record, or sitting somewhere halfway across the world, watching him write his songs. I can listen to him sing all day, you’d say, but as the night jumps deeper into its darkness, you realize how excruciatingly long his 15-minute medley went by.

You look across the room.

Donghyuck looks enthralling like this: beautiful even after all these years, charming like he’s the day he turned 21, grown, earnest, and at ease. It’s agonizing to look at from where you sit across the room—hands wrapped around her waist, eyes closing as he leans in, drunk, drunk, drunk like the night you’d left him, heart void of you.

You begin to count.

At 27, you’re pretty much done with all kinds of romance the world could offer.

Unlike the person sitting next to you, you prefer to listen to Blushing Youth than watch some high-rated romantic comedy film during your 12-hour flight from Heathrow to Incheon, and while you’ve been moving around for most of your life (having earned your nickname as frequent flyer, credits to Jisung), flying is not one of the things you’re fond of. In fact, it’s not in the long list of strengths you brag about in your LinkedIn bio. You reckon it would truly be embarrassing, to say the least, to ask a stranger to distract you from the sound of the aircraft’s engine running at full power as it takes off from the runway, hence you opt to blast Ahn Jiyoung’s voice right in your eardrums.

It’s odd, people would say, for someone who’s supposedly mastered the art of moving from one country to another to be so terrified of flights, but if people want you to be completely honest, nothing sounds more horrifying than the thought of seeing Lee Donghyuck after years of radio silence.

As pathetic as it sounds, your heart still skips a beat—three, sometimes—at the thought of him.

Donghyuck, who used to be your sun, who had you orbiting around his gravitational pull for years, who used to be so close but not enough to have, who—if you think about it now—might have never been the center of your solar system after all, but maybe just a shooting star passing by.

The plane takes off, roughly and loud like you’d expected, and you catch a glimpse of a scene from Love, Rosie from the person sitting beside you and immediately regret going coach instead of flying business like how you would if your flights last more than ten hours. You hate this film; you hate it because Alex is to Rosie, like how Donghyuck is to you.

Alex and Rosie, like you and Donghyuck, are—were—long-time best friends who used to be inseparable until one day they’re not. Rosie misses her chance. Alex stops yearning, hoping, waiting, and finally decides to get on with his life. It’s a story of a bunch of tangled webs—a messy tumbleweed of missed calls and delayed flights, of long nights and short days, of forgotten promises and faded hope.

The film introduces new people, bids goodbye to old chapters, but in the end it’s Alex and Rosie.

And you wish that’s how your story went. You don’t end up kissing him in your very own hotel with an awe-striking view of the horizon right outside the window.

You bury the thought before you start missing him again. You run out of tracks from Blushing Youth’s discography like how you run dry from thinking about what happens next when your plane lands.

Might as well sleep it off.

A sharp, jabbing pain on your left leg wakes you up from your unscheduled sleep. Hissing, you find Donghyuck sitting on top of your legs.

“I swear to God,” you breathe, kicking your best friend’s weight off your limbs. “I will freaking kill you.”

“Dude, what’s wrong with saying fuck? You’re literally twenty,” Donghyuck replies, moving further so his entire body crushes yours, and you have to pretend that his warmth doesn’t make you feel some type of way, hence you push him as hard as you can until he falls onto the carpeted floor of your room.

He falls with a thump. “Screw you,” he mumbles, mouth forming a pout that you’d gladly smack out of his face—except you’d do it with your very own lips. “It’s almost one in the afternoon. Why are you napping?”

“Good question, Donghyuck,” you start, sitting up and rubbing your eyes while looking for the pair of specs that Donghyuck is already shoving towards your direction; you gladly take it. “Unlike you, I had to work in the café until one in the morning. I hate being rostered in the closing shift, but it pays damn well. Plus, I forgot to do my laundry so I had to throw my clothes in before I slept.

“Overworking again, I see,” he muses, sighing as he scoots to sit cross-legged across you on the bed too tiny for two people.

“The last week of the semester always sucks balls,” you answer, tilting your head in attempts to stretch your stiffened neck and get some kind of relief. “Why are you here anyway? Shouldn’t you be out there doing something stupid with Na Jaemin?”

“There’s a music festival on Friday,” he starts right away. “Jaemin’s wondering if I’d be interested to go, says he could get us some free passes from the guy he’s hooking up with. Apparently, the guy is DJ-ing.”

You blink. “Which one? Lee Jeno? Or Yoon Sanha?” you ask, genuinely curious because Jaemin is Jaemin and he could never be caught exclusively hooking up with one person.

Donghyuck shrugs. “Does it matter? Is it a yes or a no? That’s the question.”

He begins to fiddle with his fingers, playing with the rings on his long, delicate digits, and you recognize it almost instantly. Donghyuck is nervous. You might have an idea why.

“Is this you finally asking me out, Lee Donghyuck?” you half-joke, scratching your head. Donghyuck looks anywhere but your face. A glimpse of his eyes is all you need, because if the eyes are the windows to one’s soul, then Donghyuck’s are wide open, with no curtains and bare from all layers—at least that’s how they are to you. His eyes are wavering, and though he’s mastered the ability to keep his face tough as steel, those orbs could only do so little when it comes to hiding from you.

So, you smile, reaching out and leaning closer, kneeling until you’re face to face with him. “Only kidding, Hyuck,” you say finally, taking it easy because this conversation is not for one who’s hazy from sleep and one who can’t even look at the other in the eyes. “Of course, I’ll come with you. Who else can you bring anyway?”

Donghyuck looks up, rolling his eyes; he’s back. “You’re not really irreplaceable,” he replies smugly. “Don’t think too highly of yourself.”

You poke your tongue out and reach over your night stand to check your phone; at the same time, Donghyuck starts biting his fingernails. You don’t think twice—like blinking, a habit, natural—and reach out to pull his hand away, mumbling about how he should start working on getting rid of this bad habit of his. Donghyuck’s hand is warmer compared to yours, and he lets out a whine, complaining about your freezing hands, but squeezes you hand back anyway.

You are content with this. You hope Donghyuck is, too.

The lingering touches. The stolen kisses. The piercing glances.

While they all seem fleeting and simple, they mean the most to you. You begin to think if Donghyuck feels the same as he pulls you closer until you’re both back lying on his bed, your cheek resting on top of Donghyuck’s warm, cloth-covered chest. You wonder if he means it, when he says you’re not irreplaceable and that maybe you’re a little too comfortable, a little too satisfied with whatever it is that you have.

On a drunken night, Donghyuck may have asked you once. You remember it and think about it so much that sometimes it felt like a dream.

“How long, Y/N,” he had asked, his voice an octave deeper than usual, gaze a shade darker. “How long until you let yourself just lose it? For once, just—just please, let your feelings consume you.”

You didn’t want to—not then, not now—because it’s going to hurt.

It’s going to hurt because it’s Donghyuck.

It’s Donghyuck who feels like home, whose hands are warm enough for your cold ones, your own little sun. Losing him is the extinction of your solar system.

“Y/N,” he had whined when you didn’t reply, shaking you, pleading. “When are you going to want for more? I want you to ask me for more.”

But Donghyuck had passed out before you had the chance to think of an answer—time frame—and you wonder what your answer would have been if Donghyuck stayed awake for a couple more minutes.

“I guess napping at this time of the day doesn’t sound too bad,” Donghyuck murmurs against your hair, kissing it before relaxing. “Set an alarm for me. 3 pm.”

You hope Donghyuck asks you again, not this time, but you hope the question lingers in his mind a little longer.

He falls asleep to the sound of your breathing.

When the person sitting next to you finally wakes up, you could only sigh in relief.

The aircraft has landed a few minutes ago, and your flight seatmate slept so soundly that it took you a couple of minutes to shake her awake.

The 12-hour flight is a pain in the ass, and you wish you mean that figuratively. Waiting was something that you were once good at, and Renjun often told you he wished he had half the patience you had. If you think about it now and reflect whether you’re as patient and as willing to wait as before, you’d changed vastly. Ridiculous, how one could change so much in a lifetime.

Huang Renjun is standing behind a barricade when you finally reach the arrival area after going through immigration. He’s holding a piece of paper that says WELCOME HOME, Y/N! Renjun doesn’t give you the time to cross the boundary because he attacks you in bone-crushing hug the second he’s allowed to. You almost topple over him, your glasses at risk of either falling out of your face and into the cold, hard ground, or being crushed between your nose and Renjun’s shoulder.

Renjun chants your nickname over and over again, swaying both your bodies left and right as though you weighed nothing. “I’m literally about to combust. My chest has been pounding since I arrived here. You have no idea how much I missed you, and you were taking forever to go through immigration.”

“Oh, Huang Renjun,” you sigh, inhaling his scent and returning the hug. “Some things never change. You’re still the sweetest when you miss people. Absence really makes the heart grow fond.”

Renjun pulls away to get a good look on you. “Y/N, you’re all grown up. I can’t believe you resisted not seeing me in person for four years.”

“You’re just as grown up as I am,” you reply. “We Facetime each other every other day. What are you talking about?”

“It’s never the same,” he mumbles and helps you with your luggage despite it only being one small luggage, a small duffel bag, and your small backpack. He starts nagging as soon as he notices how small your baggage is.

“You were away for literally four years and you think packing three old shirts and a pair of jeans will be enough to get you through your entire trip here?” Renjun gasps. “You’re stupid if you think Chenle and Jisung are allowing you to leave after what we’re all here for. They have an entire month planned out the second you agreed to come home.”

“I didn’t bring only three shirts, for your information. And I did bring a few pairs of trousers and a coat, plus my dress for the wedding,” you defend. “And I can’t extend my trip here. I thought we’ve all got that one settled.”

Renjun laughs, as if what you said is some kind of joke, as he leads you towards the exit of the airport. “You know we would 100%, without hesitation, burn your passport if it means we could make you stay longer, don’t you? I hope you don’t underestimate us like that.”

You chuckle at his empty threat, your chest swelling at the thought of your long-time friends being thrilled of your arrival in Seoul. You wonder how much has changed in the last four years, and you reckon nothing much has when it comes to your friends. You’d left when most of you were twenty-three, and the only person you’d ever seen in person since then was Chenle, who at that time, had business in London so he stayed where you lived instead of a luxurious hotel he could afford.

“We’re heading to Chenle’s place,” Renjun announces as soon as you sit comfortably in the passenger seat of his car. “But he’s still in his studio recording something, so he won’t be around until maybe five.”

“Why are we going to Chenle’s place if he’s not there yet?” you ask. “He didn’t tell me he had work.”

“We’ve all worked around our schedules to meet you today,” Renjun explains as he turns the ignition on and starts backing up. “And everyone knows his home’s passcode. Remember back in college when his stupid fancy condo eventually became everyone’s? That’s still how it is now. Only this time, he owns a penthouse in Gangnam’s most expensive building. What a spoiled brat.”

“He earned it,” you comment.

Renjun hums. An old track from the local radio station plays just as the vehicle exits the airport’s parking area. You hadn’t heard this song in years, but your mouth sings the lyrics as though it’s only been yesterday.

Renjun is amused. “Some things never really change.”

Donghyuck suddenly changes his hair color on Sophomore year in college. You, on the other hand, are about to have an aneurysm.

Na Jaemin makes fun of you, laughs as if your reaction is the most hilarious thing he’s ever seen his entire life. He deems it as the best day of his life.

“Jaemin, am I a fucking joke to you?” you ask. Jaemin doesn’t even bother to answer. “You think this is funny?”

You almost choke on nothing when Donghyuck decides to walk towards the table you’re sharing with Jaemin inside the university’s very own cafeteria. He’s holding a tray of food for lunch. The man himself has a shy smile on his face, evidently aware of the attention that the people around are giving him because of his newly-dyed pink hair, and you can’t really blame anyone if they stared a little longer.

Because Donghyuck is already beautiful, with his shining eyes and glowing skin and a smile that could make the earth stop orbiting around the sun.

But this Donghyuck, Pink Sun as Jaemin had started calling him, he’s something else. You might pass out if you look at him a little longer.

“I told you pink looks amazing on you!” Jaemin exclaims as soon as Donghyuck is close enough.

Donghyuck instantly blushes, but covers it up with a smug smirk across his mouth.

“Careful,” Donghyuck warns. “I don’t want you getting hurt if I reject you.”

Jaemin gasps, “You would never!”

Donghyuck playfully sticks out his tongue on Jaemin and finally, finally, turns towards you. Your breath is caught in a hitch. Donghyuck tilts his head slightly and you’re about to punch himself in the face.

“What do you think?” the man asks, smiling cheekily. “Do you think I look better blond or pink-haired?”

You swallow. It takes you great power not to pull Donghyuck and kiss him squarely on the mouth.

Blond Donghyuck was a menace in the society. Pink Sun is giving you a heart attack.

But you’re not about to make things too obvious, so you shrug and mutter a small “either is fine.” Jaemin kicks you under the table. Donghyuck sighs, taking out his phone to open its front camera, probably to check himself out as he brushes his fingertips in his hair.

“You’re cheap, Y/N,” he says, putting his phone down. “I basically burn my scalp to get this hair color and pull it off better than Lee Taeyong ever will, and all I get from you is, ‘either is fine.’”

Jaemin laughs hysterically, taking his phone out as Donghyuck takes the empty seat beside you—like always, because seats beside you are always reserved for him. Donghyuck carefully places the tray of food he got, immediately, your eyes catch the extra drink he has and your heart somersaults because you know it’s for you.

And this is supposed to be normal. Your friends tell you it’s a routine—every day—and you and him do things for each other like second nature. So, why does it make your heart race like this?

Your phone chimes as Donghyuck starts eating.

“We really need to work on your communication skills,” the text message from Jaemin says.

Your comprehension in Korean went from bad to worse, if it’s even possible.

Renjun is currently roasting you for it, while Jisung and Kim Minjeong are arguing about what to eat. You tell them how small the Asian community in London is as compared to other countries. Jaemin announces that Mark Lee just boarded his flight from Vancouver, too, and you cheer, excited to see him as well after all these years. Yoo Jimin calls out Jisung and Minjeong’s bullshit and says she’d already ordered from the nearest restaurant.

How you all end up in Chenle’s penthouse before the owner himself is aware, you have no idea. All you know is that things have not really changed that much.

You feel a little disoriented, your mind still a little hazy from the 12-hour trip, and you hate that the jetlag is hitting you as early as now. You feel like you could fall asleep anytime soon.

Then you hear familiar voices faintly coming from the door, then the door itself being unlocked. You observe from the digital clock above Chenle’s fancy television that it’s only nearly two in the afternoon, so it’s not Chenle who’s coming in.

Donghyuck appears from the door before you realize it, and he takes your breath away before you could even look him in the eyes.

“Sorry, we’re late,” the dark-haired man says, his voice making you feel suffocated, stepping out of his boots because God forbid anyone who steps inside Zhong Chenle’s penthouse wearing the outdoor shoes.

Lee Jeno enters behind him, his eye smile ready to meet you, while Jaemin says they arrived just in time for lunch. All is a blur and everything sounds like white noise, because Donghyuck looks at you in the eyes with the softest gaze, the smallest smile, and suddenly it doesn’t feel so cold in Seoul.

Jeno walks past him and finds his space beside Jaemin. You hear Renjun and Jisung start arguing about another thing. All while Donghyuck stays still from where he stands, about ten feet away from your space, eyes still on you.

When they’re done dancing, Donghyuck walks with her, holding her hand and keeping her close.

He passes by, doesn’t even take a glance to your direction.

Donghyuck looks at you in amusement.

“It was terrible,” you grunt. “The worst day of my life.”

He giggles and pulls you in his arms, kissing the top of your head while you stand in the middle of the room. You’re still dressed in your warm clothes as you’d just arrived from the airport. You sigh in relief because you’ve been waiting for this all weekend.

“Don’t be too dramatic,” he mumbles. “Your cousin’s going to be ballistic if he learns that you called his wedding the worst day of your life.”

“You should’ve gone there with me,” you muse. “They were introducing me to so many people, and my uncle knows I’m shit at socializing, therefore forcing me to hang out with people I barely know is like stabbing me in the eye and asking me how many fingers you’re holding up.”

Donghyuck chuckles. “What could I have done if I were there?”

You smile, burying your face in his warm chest. “Absolutely nothing.”

“Then why’d you need me there?” Donghyuck asks again. You know he’s teasing you now, poking until he gets the answer he wants to hear. And you’re not about to deny Donghyuck of that. Besides, nothing is more satisfying than knowing you could make Donghyuck feel flustered despite of his strong, wild persona. So, you reach up and kiss him on the chin and hug him closer.

“Because nothing is as bad as it seems when you’re around, my love.”

Donghyuck begins to pull away, making you hold onto him tighter, as if your hands would grow cold without touching him. Donghyuck only laughs, allowing you to hug him longer, and you wonder if you could stretch this night out for as long as he can.

The moment passes by quickly.

“Donghyuck, will you at least listen to me?”

“I’m done, Y/N.”

Renjun announces he’s done cleaning up.

Jaemin doesn’t waste a single second, getting up from his space on the other couch and announces it’s time they really catch up with everyone. It turns out that Jimin herself just got back from Germany yesterday as well, while Minjeong took a week off from work, and all had waited for you to come home before gathering in Chenle’s place.

“Mark’s a piece of shit, just like you,” Jeno comments when asked why the older didn’t take the earliest flight. Apparently, like yourself, Mark couldn’t get a couple of weeks off from work, hence he’d decided to travel a few days before the wedding, which is essentially why you all had a reason to gather once again after all these years.

“Why are you all harassing me and Mark for not being able to take a longer leave from work?” you whine, throwing a cushion towards where Jeno is seated, right beside Jimin. “It’s not like we can help it!”

Minjeong snorts, “You could’ve said you have COVID or something.”

You snicker. “Only you could think of that, Minjeong-ah.”

Jeno talks about his recent flight to Yonagunijima in Okinawa for a business trip. Renjun tells him he’s never gone that far in Japan, his farthest trip being in Osaka; Jeno says he can take him there anytime he gets some free time from work. Jaemin hypes up Jisung’s newly built dance studio and the contract he’d just signed with the biggest entertainment company in Asia, to which Jisung only downplays and says it’s not that big of deal.

You and Donghyuck stay quiet while everyone else talks over one another. He sits at the other end of the same couch you’re sitting on while Jisung occupies the space between you and him. Renjun probably feels the tension, so he cuts it.

“Donghyuck, what have you been up to?” Renjun asks, reaching over for a piece of chocolate you’d stolen from Chenle’s fridge.

Donghyuck shrugs. “Renjun-ah, don’t act like we don’t see each other every weekend.”

Renjun scoffs. “We’re here to catch up. Do you want me to tell them what you’ve been up to myself?”

Donghyuck throws a cushion and misses. “Nothing’s new about me, guys. Nothing that’s interesting enough.” Then, he leans forward and turns to you. “Maybe Y/N has anything to say. I mean, she’s the one who’s been away the longest.”

It takes you aback, the interaction unexpected, and gets you stuttering. “I’m—There’s really nothing, I mean.”

Donghyuck laughs lightly. “Loosen up. You look like you’d rather be elsewhere but here.”

“It’s not like that,” you defend. “It’s just—jetlag.”

“Of course,” Donghyuck nods. “How long was the flight?”

“Twelve hours,” you answer. Renjun does his best, distracting everyone else with a new conversation so you and Donghyuck, you assume, would feel more comfortable rather than have everyone listen to you talking with the person you used to know the best. Jisung tries to subtly leave, pretending like he needs to go to the restroom, and you know it’s a tactic because you also know Jisung like the back of your hand.

Donghyuck immediately moves closer, taking the space Jisung used to sit on, the distance pulling the air out of your lungs.

“And my flight was delayed for a couple of hours because of a storm,” you continue, clearing your voice. “So, fourteen hours in total, plus one hour from Incheon to Gangnam.”

Donghyuck nods. “Well, you fly frequently.”

You nod back. “Not that frequently anymore. Since the pandemic, I’ve been working from home a lot; there was no need to travel after all. Or move to a different country. It turns out we can do everything virtually.”

Donghyuck chuckles, almost sarcastically. “What a shame that the entire world realized suddenly that everything could work virtually.”

You smile, sadly almost. “Yeah. What a shame.”

“I didn’t get the whole thing,” Jisung sighs. “What a shame. The last parts were the best.”

“You know Chenle’s going to kill you if he finds out you took a video, right?”

Jisung nods proudly. “That was the point.”

“Lia, wait,” Donghyuck’s voice echoes—not loud enough to catch anyone else’s attention, but definitely enough for you. You watch him follow Lia out.

You decide you’ve had enough. The wedding’s done now, anyway. There’s nothing left for you here.

Jisung looks at you. “Y/N.”

“Just need some space, Jisung,” you say. “I’m okay.”

“You’re lying,” You gasp, almost dropping your iPad upon Donghyuck’s revelation. “Holy shit, Donghyuck, that’s huge!”

“Never thought I’d hear that in another context but thanks, my love,” Donghyuck replies, a proud smile etched on his mouth. He reaches over and shows you a piece of paper, the confirmation of his participation in a convention in Shanghai a couple of weeks from now.

“Wait until Jaemin hears this,” You ramble, already on his phone to text said friend about the good news. “He’s going to throw a party for you.”

“You guys are too proud of me,” Donghyuck whines. “What if I end up being such a flop outside my comfort zone? There are going to be so many amazing artists out there. I heard some vocal majors from Konkuk are attending the conference with me, and I am already terrified of them. I can't imagine myself once I'm surrounded by even more talented and more intimidating singers."

You put down your tablet on your desk, sighing as you step closer towards Donghyuck. You’re in the apartment you share with Jimin, and Donghyuck called in earlier to tell you he’s got some great news. Neither of you really have much time to meet these days, with your internship at Seoul's biggest web developer company and the drastic changes in Donghyuck's schedule, it's a little too difficult to hang out in the safety of your apartment.

Donghyuck is evidently taken aback when you suddenly wrap an arm around his neck, tumbling when you pull him closer and kisses the air out of his lungs. You regret closing your eyes when your lips touch, thinking about the way Donghyuck looks like whenever you kiss him like this. Like Donghyuck's all you’ve ever needed. Like all the years of pining and hurting are expressed in a single kiss. Like it's everything you’ve always wanted and more.

It's not the first time you kiss—you’ve lost count you made out in the back of Jeno’s car two months ago while all your friends are drunk and out of their minds—but it always feels like it is.

Donghyuck's lips are soft, soft, soft, and you can never get enough of the kissing him. The first, featherlight, a little hesitant touch of your lips would be your second favorite part (the favorite is when Donghyuck's licking your mouth and nibbles on your lower lip), and his hands, his delicate hands would always be in your hair, pulling and pressing and touching.

It's perfect. Donghyuck pulls you down with him on your very own bed, letting you sit on his lap.

He's kissing you everywhere, your lips, your cheeks, your nose, your neck, your jaw, but he stops when you begin to unbutton his shirt. You look down on him, confused and eager and dazed, and usually, Donghyuck would give in without a single fight, but this time he stops you.

"What are we doing, Y/N?" Donghyuck lets out, like he's been holding this breath forever and now he's finally exhaling it.

"We're," you start, confused why he’s asking all of a sudden, but you don’t really have an answer to that. "We're—”

"Messing around. Having fun while we can," Donghyuck finishes, quoting your own words the first time you hooked up. "I know. But that was before, right? What about now? What are we doing now?"

Your hands drop on Donghyuck's side. Donghyuck quickly takes both of them in his, giving you a comforting squeeze, as if he's encouraging you to say something. To be brave. To let go.

"We can't go on like this if you don't answer me, Y/N," Donghyuck says softly. "I know what I want, and you know that it's you. Just you. From the beginning. As long as I live. And you are making me happy right now. But I need to know if this is what you want, too."

"Love, I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't want you," you explain, eyes wavering.

"Y/N, listen to me," Donghyuck urges, letting go of one of your hands to hold your face so you could look into each other's eyes. "Tell me now. Tell me now, honestly, if this is something you would want in the long run."

"Donghyuck," You sigh, like you’re begging for Donghyuck to stop asking. But Donghyuck doesn't let his guard down. He keeps his hands on you, waiting.

You want nobody else but Donghyuck, too. From the beginning. For as long as you live. And Donghyuck is making you happy, and you know well that Donghyuck will make you happy in the long run. The last two months of whatever game you’re playing had been fun. There was no agreement on being exclusive, no rules of some sort, and it all fell into place like you and him are supposed to end up like this. You hadn’t put a label on it, but you and Donghyuck are best friends for many years now. You went through growing pains together, survived each one of the flights you frequently took around the world, went to the same college together, and you don’t really see the point of rushing for a label now.

Because you have other things in mind other than what you feel right now. You have codes to master and board directors to impress. Donghyuck has auditions to pass and flights to catch as well, and now, an opportunity in Shanghai. Not to mention you’re both cramming to have the best credentials to get you the best job after graduation. Now is not really the best time.

So, just like many happenstances in your life, you come up with a stupid, stupid answer.

"I—I don't know, Donghyuck," you say nervously. "I mean, you're clearly making me happy. And I don't plan on seeing anyone else, but I haven't really gotten around to think about it."

Donghyuck takes his touch away all of a sudden. You reach out to hold his hands in place back to your face, but he lets go.

"Think about it?" Donghyuck asks, voice shaking. "What is there to think about? It's a simple question, Y/N. Do you want me for a long time or am I just some good fuck for you?"

"Donghyuck, why are you saying that?" you retort, angry now. "I just said you make me happy. And I'm not playing with you. I just—it's—with all the things going on in my life and yours, a relationship is not something I can maintain right now."

"Maintain?" Donghyuck chuckles, pulling his hands away, gently pushing you off his lap and standing away from your bed to put some space between you and him. "Y/N, we've been best friends since we were in high school. Literally nothing has changed for us except we kiss and fuck now. What is there to think about? I really do not understand."

You sigh. The sound of it makes Donghyuck pull away further until he’s picking up his backpack.

"Donghyuck, wait," You say, but Donghyuck is already out of his room, barefoot, his shoes in his hands.

Barefoot, his shoes in one hand, two bottles of beer on the other, Donghyuck finds you by the pool outside the wedding reception. He sits beside you and mimics the way you rolled the bottom of your dress up to your thighs so it doesn’t get wet and does the same with his expensive trousers.

“What are you doing out here?” you muse, eyes staring blankly at the way your feet look blurred out underwater. “Shouldn’t you be inside getting drunk and having the time of your life?”

Donghyuck chuckles, his cheeks painted like cherries, mouth glazed like strawberries, and hands you the cold bottle of beer. “I’m already drunk. Do you think I’d have the courage to come find you here if I was sober?”

You nod, taking the bottle from his hand. “Good point. Fun party?”

“Jaemin and Jeno never fail to organize the best party,” he stammers. “They used to invite everyone in their shared apartment to play the American games they learned from Johnny-hyung. I can’t believe they’re married now.”

Jaemin and Jeno, the very reason why all of you gathered after all these years, have always been destined for each other, and you know this because you’d seen them start off as nothing and watched them turn to everything. Their wedding had been the sole reason why you’d returned to Seoul.

“I always knew they’d end up together,” you mutter, drinking from the cold bottle. “I used to manifest it. I said it all the time I saw them together.”

Donghyuck giggles. “You used to believe in the law of attraction so much. You manifested everything that’s happened in your life.”

“I did, didn’t I?” you reply, tasting the bitterness coming from the drink, a reminder why you prefer any other drink aside from beer.

It’s quite for a minute until Donghyuck talks.

“Why didn’t you manifest us?” he says suddenly, words a little grumbled. He’s probably had too much to drink already. You hold onto him naturally as his head starts swaying until his head is leaning against your shoulder, close enough to hear each other breathing. “Y/N, why did you never say we’d end up together like this, too? You were so damn good with this law of attraction bullshit. You could’ve manifested our wedding, too.”

Donghyuck is drunk, and drunk Donghyuck is always vulnerable. His tone of voice is enough for you to decide to cut this trip shorter than it already is. A week, you had promised Jeno and Jaemin, you’d leave two days after the wedding. But at this moment, when you’re frozen in place, Donghyuck’s warmth touching your coldness, you begin to ponder if it had been a good idea to come back in Seoul at all.

You love Jeno and Jaemin and would do anything for them in a heartbeat. Therefore, when the couple announced their engagement two months ago, it had been a quick, solid yes, of course, I’ll be there because you wouldn’t miss their wedding for the world, even if it had been exactly four years and two months since the last time you’d breathed the air of Seoul and that you’d rather die than be in a 12-hour flight, you swore you’d be with your friends during such a huge chapter of their lives.

Your schedules were immediately reconstructed, a ticket to Seoul safely tucked in the files in your desk’s drawer, and all your friends from London were already asking you to bring something back from Seoul when your trip is over. It was all set, with the promise of checking in with your teammates from work during your one-week leave, and it was the easiest itinerary you’d ever made. What you failed to prepare, truly, is yourself.

Somehow, you knew this would happen. You knew coming back would mean seeing Donghyuck. And seeing Donghyuck means opening wounds you’re not certain have healed and resuming conversations you’d never wanted to go back to. And this means, at any given time Donghyuck is within your space, you’d be a goner.

Because four years, it turns out, isn’t enough to get over him.

Quite funny, if you think about it now, how after all these years, you’re still orbiting around him.

You clear your throat, no words coming out, and Donghyuck starts to fall asleep against your shoulder.

Your right shoulder feels sore after falling asleep on your side on Chenle’s couch the morning after Jaemin and Jeno’s bachelor party. It was crazy, to say the least, and you’d decided to drink your guts to in hopes of not remembering anything in the morning. It sucks because you’re stupidly hungover and you remember everything.

The group was divided into two. You, Renjun, Donghyuck, and Minjeong were in charge of Jaemin in the other side of the city, courtesy of Jung Jaehyun for sponsoring and personally planning the grand party for his favorite dongsaeng. Meanwhile, Jisung, Chenle, Mark, and Jimin had planned Jeno’s very own party, along with Lee Taeyong who funded the event.

If you’re being completely honest, you’d think that after college, your friends would lose their sparks in setting up amazing parties, but last night proved you wrong.

The alcohol was disgusting, but you like that it made Renjun do things he wouldn’t do sober. Jaemin refused to get shit-faced drunk because his wedding is in two days, his hangovers usually last an entire day—he doesn’t want to show up at his own wedding looking like a zombie. Minjeong, well, she’s Minjeong, so she was just all over the place, nagging and getting drunk. She’s also a snob who thinks so highly of herself despite being the youngest in the group and liked to look down on her older friends all while attempting to stand upright after downing five shots of tequila.

Donghyuck, however, decided to bring his new girlfriend. Her name is Lia. And the only goal last night was to stay as far away as possible.

You knew that the relationship was new because Jisung filled you in before you had all parted ways for the parties, said that Donghyuck started dating her two months ago right around the time Jaemin and Jeno got engaged, Jimin being their bridge because Lia and Jimin have been friends since last year. Apparently, Lia’s been interested with him for years now; she just never had the chance because like you, Donghyuck also disappeared in and out from Seoul for a couple of years until he’d decided to stay here for good two years ago.

You can’t remember how many shots you had and how many cocktails were handed to you last night, but you wish you had more because it was evidently not enough to erase the scenarios from last night. It wasn’t enough to blur out the memories of Donghyuck holding her, kissing her, dancing with her, and just all out being a lovey-dovey boyfriend.

It’s a relief that you got home safely. There was no designated driver because the plan was to really get drunk, so Jaehyun had one of his employees drive everyone to Chenle’s penthouse because it’s the closest. You hope the others returned to Jeno’s place safely, too.

You stay still from where you’re lying down, eyes up on the ceiling, wondering what time it is. There was no plan for today aside from wedding rehearsal at six in the evening to make sure everything’s all set for tomorrow, so you reckon you have the entire day to get rid of your hangover.

You roll over to your side, facing the television, and the clock tells you it’s eleven in the morning. Renjun is snoring away from the other couch, and you remember letting Minjeong sleep on your bed for the night. You’re staring at Renjun’s sleeping form when someone on the carpeted floor suddenly rolls over, allowing you to see their face.

Donghyuck’s sleeping on the floor beside the couch, body parallel to yours so you can see his peaceful sleeping face, mouth slightly agape. He’s now sleeping on his back, head supported by one of the cushions, body covered with his jacket from last night. You remember parting ways with him with him last night. He’d taken a taxi with Lia back to her place while the rest of you went home in Jaehyun’s SUV. You don’t remember him coming back here.

You stare at him for as long as you can, because in the last three days in Seoul, you’d never really gotten the chance to get a good look on him. You and him don’t follow each other from any social media, so the last four years had truly been radio silence from both sides. Donghyuck, at 27, doesn’t look like he’s aged that much, albeit his round cheeks being gone, replaced by prominent cheekbones. It looks like he never bothered to get rid of the constellations forming on his face and neck, too, because they’re still here, just like many things that haven’t changed. Donghyuck used to love dyeing his hair crazy colors, now his hair is just colored naturally. His lips, wonder if they still taste the same.

“He’s going to melt,” Renjun says suddenly, you plop your head back to the couch, guilty for staring too long. Renjun sits up, stretching and laughing at your misery. “And you’re going to have a heart attack if you keep sneaking glances and getting caught. How many times has Jisung caught you in the last 72 hours?”

“Shut up,” you mumble, getting up and stretching as well. “What do you want to eat for breakfast?”

You carefully get off from the couch, making sure you don’t topple on Donghyuck’s sleeping body, draping the blanket over his body, walking towards Chenle’s fancy kitchen. Renjun helps you, rummaging through the fridge, and comes up with a breakfast menu with whatever you had in the kitchen.

Donghyuck wakes up before you and Renjun could finish cooking everything. He’s quiet when he approaches you in the kitchen, softly asking if you could make coffee for him. You don’t say no, of course.

“This is the most disgusting cup of coffee, I’ve had my entire life,” Donghyuck complains, leaning over the counter where you’re working on the opposite side of. “Stop jeopardizing the café’s reputation. You’re not some scientist so stop mixing concoctions from hell just to brag that you’re a part-time barista and a full-time college student. You make me sick. Literally.”

You ignore all of it, of course, eyebrows furrowed as you take another sip of the quote and quote disgusting coffee, trying to figure out what went wrong this time.

“I think it needs a bit more vanilla,” you think out loud.

“I will not join you in this stupid crusade of making your own “Barista’s Special” recipe,” he continues. “And I will tell your manager you’re wasting coffee!”

“Aha!” you exclaim when you think you got it right. “Maybe I need to level the grounds better and add another pump of vanilla. Let me try that. It should taste better.”

Donghyuck chuckles as you move around and attempt to make another cup. “You’ve been saying it should taste better since last week.”

He keeps complaining, but takes the new cup of coffee as soon as you’re done.

Donghyuck drinks.

You wait.

It still tastes disgusting.

“It’s sweet,” Donghyuck comments when he drinks it. You tilt your head. Renjun is finishing up on the scrambled eggs. You hear Minjeong come out of your room.

“Is that a bad thing?” you ask, hopeful.

Donghyuck shakes his head, chuckling. “Better than the ones you made when we were in university.”

“Hey!” you laugh. “I was awarded employee of the month once!”

“That doesn’t erase the fact that you forced me to drink your disgusting concoctions for three weeks straight,” he states, making you laugh even more. “I guess, all these years you’d learned what you were missing.”

“I’ll miss you,” you mumble against Donghyuck’s chest. “The internship will just be for a few months. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Donghyuck kisses the top of your head. “When you come back,” he mutters. “When you come back, I’ll ask you to be my girlfriend.”

You freeze.

“And you’ll say yes. And we’ll graduate together and make a life for both of us.”

You pull away a little so that you’re looking at him face to face. Donghyuck has tears threatening to fall from his eyes. You wipe it off with the sleeves of his jacket you’re wearing.

“I’ll say yes,” you promise. “And we’ll graduate together and make a life for both of us.”

A woman’s voice announces your flight number once again and says the gates are closing in five minutes. Donghyuck kisses you in the mouth—a promise—and tells you he loves you.

“Oh, Donghyuck,” you say. “I love you, too.”

“Come back home to me, yeah?”

“I will.”

Yours and Donghyuck’s favorite restaurant was located two blocks away from his parents’ home. It closed a few years ago when its owner passed away and his children were too heartbroken to keep the business running. It was a staple from your entire high school life, and if you could say it, it defined your standards when it comes to food.

You’d just gotten a call from home that your childhood pet had to be put down because of old age and many diseases, and you called in sick for work—thank God, Johnny was willing to cover for you otherwise the manager would’ve rejected your request to stay at home for the day—and you’re truly not in the mood for anything at all.

You haven’t been home for quite sometime now, the last time being the holidays and you normally just spend a couple of days before heading back to the campus, so everything really sucks. You didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye.

Donghyuck hears this from Jimin, of course, because your roommate called him as soon as she heard you crying from your room. He literally carries you out of your room, says grieving is better when there’s food.

As soon as you see the person standing behind the counter, you recognize the place right away. Although located in a different street now, nearby where you are, the place looks exactly the same from when it did years ago.

“Y/N! Donghyuckie!” the lady behind the counter greets.

“Oh my,” you squeal. “Auntie, I didn’t know you’re back in business! How long has it been?”

The new owner, the late owner’s eldest daughter, smiles at you and tells you they re-opened sometime this year. She tells you to find a seat and confirms she knew your order by heart.

Donghyuck sits across you. “You like it?”

“Why did you not take me here sooner?”

He smiles. “Supposedly on your birthday a couple of weeks from now. But with what happened today, I guess this is the best time.”

“You’re the best.”

It’s Jisung and Chenle who find you and Donghyuck by the pool area hours later. Donghyuck had completely fallen asleep on your shoulder. The younger ones help you and practically carry Donghyuck towards the car.

Jaemin and Jeno have left the venue so they could prepare for their flight the next day. You hadn’t paid much attention to the time when Donghyuck drunkenly approached you. Jisung tells you it’s already two in the morning.

Chenle tells you Donghyuck had broken up with Lia—the reason, he’s uncertain—which is why she stormed off from the reception and Donghyuck decided to drink his ass off while you were wandering around the place. You shrug, acknowledging the news like it doesn’t make your heart race, like it doesn’t give you some sort of hope you didn’t know you had stored, and tell them they should take him home.

Jisung says Donghyuck lives on the other side of the city, so it’s best you all head back to Chenle’s.

Jisung and Chenle share the latter’s bed, and you’re not going to let Donghyuck sleep on the couch after he had complained about his back hurting when he’d fallen asleep on the floor the other day, so it’s only right that you let Jisung and Chenle carry him to your bed.

When you wake up on the couch the next day, Donghyuck’s shoes are no longer by the doorsteps.

His footsteps are loud.

“Donghyuck, this isn’t going to work if you don’t fucking give me a chance to explain!” You scream a few feet behind Donghyuck.

Donghyuck is running away, and you’re beginning to think that convincing him to go to the gym might not have been the greatest decision because Donghyuck is literally sprinting, like he’s being chased by something so terrifying.

You almost stop. Donghyuck, who always called him home, never ran away from you all these years. Not, it looks like he’d rather be anywhere but where you. Nothing feels worse than that.

You’d just gotten back from your internship in the US, one more term and you’re graduating. The internship was easily the best thing that’s happened to you this year. They were already thinking of offering you a contract as soon as you graduate. They let you go back home, of course, to complete your degree, and said they’d be willing to keep training you in the states and have you relocate to Europe once you graduate because they’ll be expanding their business out there.

It's also the night of Donghyuck's first showcase, the first show he's headlining along with musicians and artists from different universities. You had promised Donghyuck you’d watch and support him, but things doesn't always go on your favor, because as soon as you’d landed, you were needed back to the campus for an interview for the university’s publishing team because they wanted you to talk about your experience alongside the others who went to the states to complete their internship. It was supposed to be an hour session, but you and everyone in the panel liked the questions they were asking, and somehow you felt like this was a sign that the company in the US could lead to better, brighter things for you.

Hence, you were late. Halfway through the show. Donghyuck got mad, but promised he understood. He asked for some space, at least for the rest of the night. But you wanted to apologize properly, to take him out for dinner even if it's already past midnight, and insisted that you should talk about it. Donghyuck refused, you kept insisting, until the former said something about you being a shitty girlfriend.

It’s a shitty excuse, but you were absolutely fucking tired. You’re still jetlagged from the 16-hour difference, and the entire session with your fellow interns took two hours of your day.

What you had left for the day was so little, and you chose to spend it with Donghyuck, but he decided to be an ass about it.

"I never said anything about being your girlfriend," was your dumb reply, which is why you’re now running after him from the building of Chenle’s condominium.

You pull Donghyuck with force as soon as you catch up with him, and you’re faced with your worst fear.

Donghyuck is crying. He’s never cried before, not because of you. A deep painful breath comes out of your mouth, and it hurts when you breathe, like inhaling a cloud of smoke or being hit by a ball in the back. Donghyuck keeps crying, doesn’t even hide it. He sobs and heaves and he doesn’t wipe his tears.

"Donghyuck, can you just—”

“I’m tired,” Donghyuck sobs. “Y/N, I’m so tired. I sound pathetic and I’m not sure if I’m exhausted from the performance or I’m just done with you.”

“I’m sorry,” is all what you could come up with.

“This,” Donghyuck says, gesturing the small space between you. “I don’t think it’s worth all of the pain I am feeling right now, Y/N. You’re my best friend. I—I, fuck, I used to think that maybe someday this will all be worth it, but I am tired of waiting for that day. I am drained and you have consumed all of me. I waited for you, and I keep waiting until you finally just—let go and decide you want to be with me and stop playing this never-ending game of friends with benefits bullshit we started. I’m done. What else do you want from me?”

“I—I… Donghyuck,” you stutter. I want you to give me a chance. I want you to give me more time to figure some things out myself. I want you to wait a little longer.

"I rejected Ryujin a week before you came home,” Donghyuck confesses. "When you were in the states, and you suddenly changed your mind about being my girlfriend and told me I should go out and date other people and that I shouldn’t hold myself back, I was angry. I didn’t understand why you were pushing me away so much when I’m here!”

You stay still, crying.

“I’m here,” he repeats. “I’m here and I love you, and I’ve never asked anything in return. And you tell me you love me, but you do things that—that hurt me. Every time I think we’re finally going somewhere, you—you push back and I’m just—I’m sick of it. And Jaemin said I should just move on if you can’t make up your mind because I don’t know if you haven’t realized it but Y/N, we’ve been at it for years.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Jeno and Jaemin set me up with Ryujin,” he continues. “We went to a couple of dates. And then you called me saying you’re coming back home. So, I broke it off before we even got started. I told her it would be unfair if I kept leading her on when I know that I am still ridiculously in love with you. She said it would be alright and that she's giving me all the time and space I need to think about things."

Donghyuck curses and continues, "But I didn't need time and space, Y/N. Because I already knew that all I've ever wanted was you. I didn't need to think. I only needed you."

You don’t know what to say. You’re still holding him by his arm.

“If you're not going to say anything, let me go,” Donghyuck sternly says. You have a feeling it’s not the grip on his arm that Donghyuck is talking about. “Please.”

The single biggest mistake of your life happened on the third street from Chenle’s place, under the broken streetlight, across the ice cream parlor Donghyuck used to work at when he was seventeen.

You let him go. Donghyuck stops waiting.

The wait from the audience was long enough.

They say your graduation day is going to be one of the happiest moments in your life. It’s not. Not at all.

Not when you’d gotten your diploma on stage and Donghyuck shows you he doesn’t give a fuck by looking everywhere else. Not when it’s picture taking time with your friends and families and he decides to stand on the other side, far, far away from you. Not when his parents ask him to take a picture with you and he shrugs it off and says he’s hungry and that he’s meeting everyone at the restaurant, leaving with his entire family.

Renjun whispers, “Does he even know you’re leaving first thing in the morning?”

You shrug it off, too. “Looks like he has other things to care about.”

Jaemin sighs. “You’re not serious about this, are you? You and Donghyuck better pull your shit together. Both of you already ruined the moment for everyone.”

Renjun eyes him. “It’s not your fault, Y/N. If Donghyuck doesn’t want to listen, then so be it.”

“It’s not Donghyuck’s fault either,” Jaemin defends. “Because he’s been trying to get answers and you wouldn’t give it to him. So, I don’t think it’s his fault that he’s done.”

“We’re not picking sides here, Jaemin,” Jeno says. “Let’s go.”

Jeno and Jaemin sandwiches you in a tight hug.

The next day after the wedding, in the afternoon, the newlyweds are bound to France for their honeymoon. They’re traveling the continent for two weeks (unfortunately, London excluded from their itinerary), and all of you decided to drop them off as if they’re leaving for years. In your case, this may be the last time you’re seeing them for a long time.

“I love you,” Jaemin says as the two very strong and buff men hug you. “I know things have been tough and coming back here took a lot from you, but thank you for making sure you were present during the wedding.”

“I hope this isn’t the last time in another four years that we’d see you in person,” Jeno adds. “We miss you, you know? Please come visit us when you have time.”

“I love you two so much,” you cry, emotional with the way they’re holding you. “Go have fun.”

They bid their goodbyes to everyone else and enter the airport.

“If I don’t get the same treatment when I leave, I’m ghosting everyone,” Mark announces. Jisung laughs. “What? You all acted like they’re going away for two years. They’re coming back in literally and exactly two weeks!”

“Go be unhappy somewhere, hyung,” Donghyuck teases, making everyone laugh as you all walk back to where their cars are parked.

Chenle needs to go back to work, so did Jimin and Jisung, hence they ride all together. Minjeong’s visiting a friend, so she’s riding with Mark and Renjun because they’re all going to the same side of the city. Which means, Donghyuck is driving you back to Chenle’s place.

“Your flight is tomorrow, too, right?” Mark asks. You hum, nodding. “Come visit me in Vancouver sometime soon, too. Or I’ll fly to London.”

“Wow, you have a lot of money to spend on flying around the world multiple times, huh?” you tease.

“Hey, you’re the frequent flyer here,” he comments. “Wonder how many miles you’ve earned and redeemed from all this flying you’ve done in this lifetime.”

You laugh. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mark.”

Renjun and the others bid you goodbye. You’re not really certain why you and Donghyuck silently agreed to watch your friends leave, you and him standing a foot away from each other as they all drive away. For some reason, it feels like the last time.

The first time it happened, you and Donghyuck decide it’s an accident.

You were drunk, and it had been a while for the two of you considering how busy you both have been because of finals coming up. It was convenient, if you say so yourself, to have your best friend right beside you when you were feeling hot and horny. The morning after was settled with a kiss on your forehead—no apologies as discussed, because neither you nor him regretted it anyway, but there’s a promise that nothing changes.

The second time it happened, you and Donghyuck decide it’s not going to be a one-time thing.

“So, to make it clear,” you huff as you quickly get rid of your pants while Donghyuck pulls his shirt off. “This isn’t a one-time thing.”

“I don’t see an issue if it’s not,” he replies, unbuckling his belt and pulling his pants down, pushing you against the wall and kissing you down your neck. “Besides, we’re best friends.”

You lean your head against the wall, thinking if it’s too late to back out, but Donghyuck’s already has his hands all over you—one on your breast and the other on your waist. It’s not really that bad of an idea. Donghyuck is your best friend, and your friendship has withstood time, distance, growing pains, and mostly everything. And perhaps it’s the way you haven’t stopped thinking about your first time together that’s making you feel so, so vulnerable under his touch, but it’s not like anything’s changed since that night. In fact, if you’re being completely honest, it made you feel like you and Donghyuck know each other better now—in ways that other pairs like you don’t.

Hence, whatever thought you had a minute ago, you throw it down the drain and you let Donghyuck (messily, heartedly giggling) carry you by hoisting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist and bring you back to his unmade bed.

Donghyuck knows how to use his tongue, and you’ve kind of always known because all the girls he’s ever slept with talk about him like he’s a god of tongue or something. Donghyuck licks your lips before diving in, as if he’s giving you a taste of what you’re about to have, and he pushes his tongue in, massaging it with yours, and it almost feels like he’s teaching you how to use the muscle in your mouth. You realize how much he likes kissing, because he kisses more than he touches. He kisses you for what felt like hours, and you’re not about to complain about it.

You let him gently drop you on his bed. His warm palms caressing its way from your waist down to the side of your thighs where he knows you like being touched the most (and you’re not certain whether he’d learned this from stories or from the time you and him had sex); Donghyuck keeps his mouth on you as he rubs circles against your hot skin.

The finger he slips between your underwear and right above your clit sends you shivers down your spine. He allows you to catch your breath for a second, moving his mouth from your lips down to your neck, but doesn’t give you enough time to recover because he rubs your clit oh, so gently.

“We’re best friends,” he repeats, murmuring the words against the skin on your neck. “Nothing changes, except now I know where to touch you.”

He does. He touches you everywhere and slips his middle finger in your hole, sighing against your skin when he feels how wet you’ve gotten simply from kissing.

“You’ve always been such a good girl for me,” he whispers, keeping his finger inside, his palm pressed against your clit. “Such a good girl. Wet and ready for me. You really are my best friend.”

“Donghyuck,” you whine. He starts rubbing from inside, moving a single finger in an upward motion, eliciting a moan from you.

“What?” he asks innocently. “You are. You are my best friend. I don’t think everyone can say they let their best friends fuck them when they’re horny. Which makes me the best best friend, too. Because I fuck the brains out of you when you’re horny. Aren’t we the best team the world has ever seen?”

Donghyuck slips another finger in—easily, because nothing can describe how we you are now. He tongues the skin on your collarbone, licking and tasting and smirking all throughout, then he fingers you properly. At this point, your underwear’s stretched from one thigh to the other.

Donghyuck likes to tease you, and you know this because he massages the inside of your hole in a swift upward motion before pulling his fingers out and slowly filling you again. He does this slowly, then fast, then slowly once again. The explicit sound of your wetness makes him chuckle, leaving your collarbones and using his other hand to pull the left cup of your bra down and goes in. He bites and nips and licks and sucks your breast while he fingers you stupid—legs apart, shamelessly wet and fucking ready for him—and you take everything he gives you.

He doesn’t make you cum though, because Donghyuck is Donghyuck. Nobody is more cunning than him.

But he doesn’t make you wait. As soon as he feels you’re about to cum, he slips his fingers out and rids himself off his own underwear, then slipping the last two pieces barely hanging on your body.

He fucks you dumb. Raw. All his glory and skin. You have no other words aside from that.

He doesn’t wait because there’s truly no need to adjust with how wet and ready you fucking are. He’s big, but Donghyuck knows how to fuck well. He knows how to prevent discomfort and he’s done a very good job at proving that to you.

He fucks you missionary, and usually, this isn’t something you’d opt for. You like being fucked hard with no sense of affection and all that bullshit when you’re stressed and in need of some kind of relief. But with Donghyuck, it’s heavenly despite how sinful his hips snap.

He fucks you. Again and again. He makes you cum twice before he pulls out and spills himself on your stomach.

He kisses you, giggles at the way you’re dumbfounded, cleans you up, and lets you sleep on his bed as though nothing has changed.

Because nothing did. Nothing ever will.

“Funny how things have changed so much in the last four years, huh?” Donghyuck asks, eyes on the road.

Donghyuck’s said he’s driving you home. You haven’t been in Seoul in four years, but the route he’s taking is definitely not the way to Chenle’s.

“We’re taking the long way home,” he interjects when he realizes you’re looking at the GPS on his car’s tablet. “There’s, uh, heavy traffic on the usual way because of some road construction. And you’re going back tomorrow. You haven’t really gone around the city, so I figured it’d be a good time.”

You hum, looking at him with a small smile.

“Sure,” you buy. “It feels like only yesterday you were driving a beat-up Hyundai. Now, you’re all fancy.”

He chuckles, turning as his car speeds through the bridge. “Well, many things have changed since you left.”

Donghyuck looks beautiful like this: Seoul’s horizon running like a movie as he drives, smile soft, eyes bright.

“I’m sorry,” you brave up.

It takes you great courage to say it out loud. As best friends, you and Donghyuck had always said “thank you,” and “I love you” openly, and in countless of occasions, these words have healed scratches made around your friendship. Rarely you and him would ever say you’re sorry. The only time you can remember apologizing to him was the night, a few weeks before graduation when you’d just returned from the States after your internship. That sorry barely made up the wounds you’d caused.

At this age, you understand why saying sorry wasn’t normal for you and Donghyuck. You and him were inseparable. You were soulmates—are if you can bravely say it out loud. Your bond is stronger with him than anyone else, and you’d always believed that nothing could ever come between you and him. Like the decisions you’d made, nothing changed until something did. And when things changed, you and him had no idea what to do. Because as far as you can remember, you and Donghyuck remained constant, like a routine, a bible with a comprehensive and cohesive series of stories that’s never changed. So, when feelings got in between—denial and pining and confusion—neither of you had any idea how to handle it.

Donghyuck was bold and brave. You, on the other hand, had no ounce of courage to give it a try.

He only smiles. “A few years too late, don’t you think?”

You nod. “I know. Do you accept my apology?”

“If you buy me ice cream,” he answers.

“Done,” you say, smiling back at him. “I was scared.”

Donghyuck keeps his eyes on the road. “Of?”

“That I’d come back to Seoul and see you married with kids and all.”

“And what’s so scary about that?”

“Because it would mean I’d thrown away all the chances the universe has given me.”

Donghyuck looks ethereal like this: in a suit, smiling as he watches his bride walk down the aisle.

“Take care, yeah?” Renjun whispers as he hugs you.

Mark’s Dad and Mark himself are waiting for you outside. As most of your friends have gone home to their families after graduation, with the exception of Renjun and Jisung who spared some time today just to see you off, Mark volunteered (his dad) to drop you off the airport.

“I will,” you say, burying your face into his chest. “Any word from Donghyuck?”

Renjun pulls away and looks down. You know the answer.

“It’s okay,” you answer, mostly to yourself. “He’ll call me back soon. I’m sure.”

“I hope so,” Renjun mumbles.

The only call you get before you enter the gates is a drunken one. It’s Donghyuck.

“I hate you,” he grits through the device. “And I never want to see you again.”

“I didn’t want to come back,” you confess. Donghyuck keeps his hands on the steering wheel. “Because you’d said you never wanted to see me again.”

“And I sent you messages you never received,” Donghyuck says. It surprises you. “Because your Korean number was no longer active and you’d blocked me from everything at that time.”

You smile, wondering if you had a little bit more understanding—if you had waited a little before deactivating your old number, if you had given it some time—would you and Donghyuck end up together in the end? If Donghyuck hadn’t been drunk the night you left Seoul—if he’d taken a taxi before you boarded the plane, if he’d just said sorry back—would you and him have gotten into a relationship right away?

Regret, just like grief, makes you feel things like this. They make you wonder what could have happened, if it would’ve given you the same, awful outcome, or if it would take you to the happy ending you keep dreaming about.

“Funny how we had many things we couldn’t say despite us being best friends,” he comments. “And you agree that many things have changed in the last four years, right?”

You hum, looking out your window, watching the horizon blur in motion.

“Donghyuck-ah,” you whisper, eyes still on the moving horizon. “The only thing that hasn’t changed for me.”

“What?” he asks.

“You,” you say. “You’re the only one that hasn’t changed for me. You’re still sharp when you need to be, but gentle where people you love need you to be. You’re still beautiful like the day I had realized I loved you. It wasn’t shocking, though. That day. I wasn’t all too shocked that your newly-dyed pink hair was the eureka moment for me. Because I knew all along. It was more like a flick on the wrist rather than a surprise. Like it’s always been there. The pink hair was just a reminder.”

Donghyuck stays quiet.

“And I say this like I’m hoping I could go back to four years ago and try harder to apologize,” you continue, tears already brimming your eyes. “But I guess we needed this, Donghyuck. We needed to grow—sadly—apart. And I feel like, no, I know that I wouldn’t have gotten to know myself better if we didn’t grow apart.”

“Yeah,” he speaks for what seems like a long time. “We were—you were right all along. We couldn’t just risk it all for a relationship. I had offers left and right even before we’d graduated, and you.”

You look at him. Donghyuck’s eyes are carefully still on the road, but his gaze is soft, eyes shining from the tears welling up.

“You were made to see the world,” he says, and it breaks you like glass. “I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if I were the reason why you don’t have the life you have now. Because it wouldn’t have worked. I love you, and I just know that at that time, when we were young and all, I wouldn’t have let you go work abroad. The few months you spent in the state for a mere internship already shook our friendship in ways we didn’t expect. What more if we had been in a relationship?”

“Donghyuck,” you sniffle. “I love you. And it hurt. And I’m sorry it us this long. I’m sorry it took me this long.”

“Stop apologizing. Y/N, I would’ve let you go eventually,” he confesses. “Because I love you so much that I’d be willing to let you go if it meant you could soar.”

The sun sets in the horizon the next time you look out your window.

Donghyuck keeps one hand on the wheel and shows you the other, palm up.

You take it with courage.

And you. You look beautiful like this: dressed in white, smiling as you walk towards your groom. You best friend. Donghyuck.

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softdykellie · 1 year

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ੈ✩‧₊˚ motion sickness part i | ellie w.

next part here

PAIRING: modern!ellie x fem!reader

SUMMARY: having grown up together, everyone knew eachother in jackson. when a brooding newcomer owner to a tattoo shop comes along apparently charming her friendly florist neighbor things seem to take a turn.

WARNING: alternative universe! purposefully all lower case. multiple part series. not a very eventful beginning as ellie’s relationship with reader is slow burn but i promise it will evolve.

WORD COUNT: 716

the entire town of jackson had stopped on its tracks to peek into the blacked out windows of what used to be cat’s bakery, an exciting guessing game at every arrival of trucks unloading black leather chairs and tall unopened boxes that according to jesse made heavy noises to the shake. the owner, whoever they may be, haven’t made their way to the building yet, and all pointed towards a newcomer. jackson wasn’t used to those.

“you think it’s a woman?”

“i just hope they’re hot” dina says, getting in response a subtle glare from jesse as she poured whiskey from her expensive cabinet onto your cup. it was always on the house for her best friend, a near prayer for bankruptcy.

you chuckled before clinking your glasses together and taking a long sip to avoid the topic you knew awaited you by the way dina raised her eyebrows suggestively, squinting her eyes towards the bar’s furthest corner where abby anderson, former basketball star and current police chief, downed her own drink. the woman never wore her hair down and was an apparent fan of uniforms, having once used religiously her numbered jersey and now eternally in dark blue slacks. once upon a time there had been something between you, if you could call it that: a drunken kiss at a frat party after a winning game, all nerves and eagerness, tongue and hands. years later, dina would never let you live it down.

“i’m just saying your love life is about as interesting as jj’s and he’s two years old!” she whispered agressively before whistling for abby’s attention “oi, anderson! c’mon let us in on the secret, what’s the new shop for?”

“didn’t take you as a gossip, dina”

“well then you clearly don’t know me enough! entertain us, we won’t tell”

abby seemed to think for a minute, glancing between you and the empty bottom of her cup. with a sigh she walked over from her seat towards your spot at the barstools, the smell of fresh mint and citrus radiating off her. under the dim lighting her blonde hair still shone - nearly sparkled - at every ray, inevitably, you stared until she smirked. another bitter whiskey sip.

“some asshole’s tattoo shop” up close, that was when you took note of her bruised hand, red knuckles still somewhat clenched up. it suddenly made sense why the stoic figure was seen day drinking at her job, something to numb the pain without looking weak. still, everything seemed unlike her. hot-tempered. dina asked bluntly what you found yourself too stunned to ask: “what the fuck anderson, you punched the newcomer?”

her eyes were on you again, pale blue like a stormfront, searching your expression. abby anderson was a different kind of beauty, ragged around the edges, rough and sharpened. everyone guessed college would straighten that out of her, ivy league scholarship with the rich and powerful far enough from jackson you’d think nostalgia was a disease amongst the trophies and gpas. no one could bare look her in the eye since the career ending injury that lead her to come back, besides you. she figured that’s what kept her enthralled; not being a walking failure to at least someone in her hometown.

your staring match as over before it fully began. a swing of the door echoing bells throughout the establishment. jesse straightened his back, ready to serve, dina fixated on the hand still, abby looked down and you turned your body towards the entrance. 5”7 and fully tattooed at every visible corner of skin besides her face - oh that face - right eye stained in swollen purple. she looked no one in the eye besides dina.

“one beer please”

she caught your eye for a second, taking you in under her shuddering gaze in such precise detail you were sure all the lines and dots connected into the paiting of your face had made themselves a maze under microscope. she searched for something in you, a reaction, you barely even noticed how your breath had hitched until you ran out of air. her hand slowly reached towards your face in what appeared at first to be a cheek caress, before she tugged a leaf from behind your ear, stuck to your hair.

“you must be the flower shop girl. hi, neighbor. i’m ellie.”

#ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams #ellie the last of us #the last of us #tlou #ellie x fem!reader #modern!ellie williams #ellie williams fanfic #ellie fanfiction #softdykellie #abby x fem!reader

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voiold · 10 months

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OMG ITS HIS BIRTHDAY!!! RHAGSGAHA I HAVE SO MUCH TO POST ABOUT HIM

He is so gorgeous, beautiful, radiant, captivating, charming, elegant, striking, dashing, alluring, exquisite, handsome, lovely, mesmerizing, enchanting, breathtaking, irresistible, fabulous, charismatic, fashionable, incredible, incomparable, graceful, appealing, ravishing, sophisticated, magnetic, unforgettable, impressive, flawless, awe-inspiring, timeless, enthralling, divine, splendid, spellbinding, winsome, jaw-dropping, delightful, fetching, sensational, regal, opulent, sublime, statuesque, dreamy, mesmeric, sumptuous, admirable, dazzling, impeccable, ravishing, luminous, polished, remarkable enigmatic, unblemished, tantalizing, unforgettable, classy, effortless, opulent, unforgettable, classy, effortless, opulent, unparalleled, glamorous, magnificent, immaculate, head-turning, exotic, bewitching, radiating, coveted, commanding, unrivaled, supreme, glamorous, unassailable, unmatched, enthralling, captivating, bewitching, unblemished, spectacular, resplendent, spellbinding, enigmatic, stunning, distinguished, unfading, irresistible, striking, vivacious, regal, spellbinding, impressive, majestic, ethereal, unforgettable, incomparable, breathtaking, sumptuous, resplendent, elegant, radiant, unrivaled, enchanting, alluring, graceful, mesmerizing, impeccable, charming, sophisticated, ravishing, exceptional, captivating, bewitching, awe-inspiring, sublime, opulent, gorgeous, statuesque, exquisite, unparalleled, effervescent, enthralling, immaculate, unmatched, elegant, stunning, mesmerizing, unforgettable, impressive, incomparable, radiant, breathtaking, captivating, graceful, spectacular, enchanting, striking, majestic, irresistible, spellbinding, charming, sumptuous, regal, ethereal, glamorous, unparalleled, exquisite, alluring, resplendent, sophisticated, unassailable, enigmatic, dazzling, vivacious, unblemished, magnificent, unmatched, opulent, supreme, statuesque, unfading, effortless, coveted, delightful, effortless, coveted, delightful, exceptional, unrivaled, polished, spellbinding, winsome, impeccable, ravishing, mesmeric, head-turning, classy, unforgettable, sensational, bewitchina, tantalizing, gorgeous.

#barbatos fanart #obey me art #obey me #obey me barbie #obey me dateables #obey me shall we date #om barbatos #obey me barbatos #shall we date barbatos #my bbg #it’s his birthday #om! barbatos #barbatos obey me #nightbringer barbatos #silly man

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voidpetrova · 9 months

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art deco — damon salvatore x reader

☄. *. ⋆

content warnings and genre: blood, violence — angst(ish) (?)

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

synopsis: art was as long as life was short, something you and damon knew entirely too well.

✧.*

in the dimly lit, abandoned museum, the air hung heavy with the scent of history and dust. faint moonlight filtered through cracked windows, casting ethereal glimmers upon forgotten canvases and sculptures. every corner of the place breathed with the remnants of bygone elegance, a silent testament to a world long past. amongst this solitude, you stood, a figure of timeless grace dressed in an opulent gown that whispered of old money. the art in this decaying sanctuary spoke to you in ways only a fellow aficionado could comprehend. the cracked masterpieces adorned the walls, their colors faded yet their stories vivid. each stroke of the brush or chisel seemed to echo through the ages, a symphony of artistic expression transcending time itself.

as you moved from one masterpiece to another, your fingers brushed lightly against the gilded frames, tracing the intricate carvings that held the essence of centuries. your eyes, pools of liquid appreciation, gazed upon the paintings with a reverence usually reserved for holy relics. the strokes of genius laid bare before you – from the haunting chiaroscuro of a renaissance masterpiece to the avant-garde chaos of abstract modernism – all whispered secrets to your heart.

but amidst this silent communion with art, you couldn't help but feel a presence, a shadow that moved with grace and purpose. you turned your head, and there he stood—damon salvatore, a man of another era, his eyes a deep well of secrets. his attire, tailored to perfection, exuded the same timeless charm that you cherished in art.

he smiled, a slow and enigmatic curve of his lips that hinted at a world of knowledge hidden behind his captivating exterior. “you have exquisite taste,” he murmured, his voice a velvet melody that danced through the gallery. you inclined your head, acknowledging the compliment. “and so do you,” you replied, your eyes returning to the artwork that surrounded you.

for a while, the two of you stood there, side by side but lost in your own worlds. the art, the sculptures, the remnants of human creativity encapsulated you both, weaving an unspoken connection stronger than words could convey.

it was as if the museum itself had come alive, the masterpieces breathing, sighing, and pulsating with the essence of creativity. damon, seemingly enthralled by your presence, broke the silence. “you know,” he began, his tone almost wistful, “art isn't just what's on the canvas. It's the stories, the emotions, the beauty found in unexpected places.” you turned to him, curiosity dancing in your eyes, “elaborate.”

with a mischievous glint in his eye, damon extended his hand toward a forgotten statue tucked away in the corner. it was a fragment of antiquity, a delicate hand emerging from a block of marble, frozen in time. "this," he said, his voice low and conspiratorial, “this is a masterpiece of its own. a testament to a sculptor's skill, yes, but also a tribute to the endurance of beauty. this hand, emerging from the stone, tells a story of transformation, of potential realized.”

you studied the sculpture anew, seeing it through his eyes. it was as if he'd breathed life into the lifeless, giving you a glimpse into the world beyond the surface.

as the night wore on, you and damon continued to traverse the labyrinthine corridors of art. each piece held its own unique charm, and damon, with his profound insights, revealed hidden dimensions to you. it was a dance of minds amidst a symphony of aesthetics, and you were enchanted.

but the final masterpiece of the night was yet to be unveiled, and it was not on the canvas or in the cold embrace of marble. it was the crimson masterpiece that damon had been crafting, a composition that was dark, brutal, and utterly enthralling.

in a secluded corner of the museum, far from prying eyes, the two of you stood together, surrounded by darkness and the echoes of history. damon's eyes bore into yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. you were not unaware of the darkness within him, the primal force that lurked beneath his charming exterior, but in this moment, it only added to the allure.

he leaned in, his lips dangerously close to your ear, his voice a seductive whisper. “art is subjective, my dear. and this, this is my masterpiece.”

before you could react, his lips met the tender skin of your neck, and the world exploded in a symphony of sensations. pain and pleasure intertwined, a chaotic dance that defied reason. as his fangs pierced your skin, you gasped, your vision blurring as a rush of ecstasy washed over you. the world around you dimmed as your senses heightened. you could hear the rhythm of your own heartbeat, the whisper of blood flowing through your veins. the metallic taste of your own life filled your mouth, and it was both repulsive and intoxicating.

damon's grip on you tightened as he drank, his movements possessive and primal. in that agonizingly beautiful moment, you realized the true essence of art – the collision of beauty and brutality, creation and destruction, life and death.

as the last vestiges of your humanity slipped away, you became a part of his masterpiece, a work of art in your own right. the abandoned museum, with its forgotten treasures, had witnessed another chapter in its history, a tale of immortal passion and boundless darkness. and in that timeless night, surrounded by the relics of a bygone era, you and damon salvatore became a living testament to the endless possibilities of art, where boundaries blurred and beauty was redefined in shades of red.

art, indeed, was subjective, and in the world of vampires, it was a canvas that knew no limits.

#tvd #tvdu #the originals #legacies #damon salvatore #damon x reader #damon salvatore x reader #damon salvatore angst #damon salvatore smut #damon salvatore fluff

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starlightlacrimosazpsff · 2 months

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💠 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 💠

~ тнε συтℓαη∂εяs ~

『 Welcome us with your light 』

When existence takes form, light bursts forth.

Perception is possible with the existence of light, and life is breathed into existence with either belief or desire. Such radiance is accompanied by sublime darkness, the shadow which always follows. The universe is a blanket of void filled with twinkling light that each holds potential to blossom into life.

In the eyes of a child, the possibilities are endless.

SOLSTICE, the younger sister of Aether and Lumine, looks at the world with great curiosity. No matter where the twins take her, she would look around with eyes widely open of wonder. She never misses a chance to observe all the vibrant colors and forms of civilization. Before Solstice had been born, the twins were always out exploring the universe by themselves. With an infinite number of worlds to discover, the two have a vast variety of homes to choose as options to settle down.

This particular one is gorgeous in its simplicity.

The landscape is quite linear: green everywhere surrounded by oceanic blues, and very abundantly blessed by nature's touch. Its real beauty shines from the ethereal aura of the backdrops, emanating a sense of unity. From where they landed, they saw almost everything there is to be offered by this world. The twins smirked at each other, giddy to be able to explore every spot. Multiple sets of cliffs could be spotted along the coastlines, and a few tiny islands decorated the borders with beaches of white sand. On the horizon, they can detect a trace of civilization—but it looked more like ancient ruins now. At the heart of it all, one giant oak tree stood tall like a silent guardian.

Flower fields seem to never run out. Each plain has at least five different kinds of blossoms dancing by their feet, and every meadow is rich with splendor. Solstice loved them, squealing happily at the new colors and scents as her siblings carried her throughout their strolls. She definitely took a liking to grapes when her siblings found vines of them in a random nook of the continent. She was just as quick to get sick of it though, such is the ever frivolously fickle whim of a toddler. The continent seems to match that mood, carefree and wild yet a natural peace guiding it to order. Everything comes alive with every breeze as if this world breathes and speaks through them.

It was quite mysterious yet enthralling, as if they were being welcomed.

『 Grace the morning sky 』

AETHER looks back at his two sisters.

Solstice is sitting on Lumine's lap under the giant oak tree, gazing at the lush green hills. The tree itself reaches above the clouds like a wooden obelisk, casting a massive shadow on the land. It has been a while since the last world-hop, and he knows that they should plan a departure soon. Sure, this one has forests that are full of life and cliffs were no danger to an Outlander. He even saw a functioning windmill and manor estate in the remains of an ancient city. Life is undoubtedly possible for them, yet...something was missing.

Something is always missing.

After a while, he catches the gaze of Solstice who is reaching out to him by spreading her arms open nigh expectantly. He walks over to them and crouches down to her eye level, making her grin cheekily like a spoiled cat that got what it wanted. Her eyes beam at him while she holds her rattle out towards his twin sister, whom chuckles fondly.

"Perhaps, the next world would have some entertaining creatures for her." Aether mused.

As nighttime hit, pyreflies came out of hiding and illuminated the forest where they rested. Some have dared to go near the Outlanders, especially the ever charming Solstice. She stares at the floating lights, giggling whenever they nip at her nose. The oak tree granted them shade from the moonlight if ever they wish to sleep. Flowerbeds accompanied the grass on uneven terrain, soothing the trio into a free session of aromatherapy. The shades of midnight devoured the entire land, giving it a somber view that lulls its witnesses to slumber. A million stars twinkled mischievously from the sea of black that is the nightsky. Dandelions glided along the gentle currents of the evening breeze, swaying like a sweet windblume dream.

Truly, it is a quaint and lovely world.

『 Comfort Luna— 』

LUMINE smiles down at Solstice.

At this age, the young Outlander would not be able to understand words yet. Her twin brother points out his index finger towards their sister's nose, poking it with a gentle boop. For a moment, the toddler is shocked; but then, as Aether smiles, she laughs and reaches for her nose with her free hand.

Aether sits down next to his sisters, "What are you wishing for, sis?"

Lumine brushes away a straying lock of hair from Solstice's face and hums contently, "Anything."

The rattle in Solstice's hand makes a unique sound that was both magical and beguiling. It resembled the soft tinkling of windchimes, yet presents an imagery of sparkling stars due to its sustaining echo with every shake. The sound was something that gave comfort to the youngest Outlander, especially when it is accompanied by the changing of its color palettes to suit her moods. Its shape was also quite fascinating, as its translucent sphere held a tiny glowing four-pointed star. The surface seems to be made of iridescent crystal, gleaming like glass amidst a spectrum of dawn.

Aether takes Solstice when Lumine hands him their dearest little traveler. Her eyes glimmer as she looks up at her older brother. He leans down to give her a kiss on the forehead, soothing her. She once again shakes her rattle as her version of thanks, releasing sounds which further delighted the little girl.

When Solstice was born, the twins dutifully watched over her. Once she had enough energy to sustain herself, the siblings took it upon themselves to find a new home—a world suited for their baby sibling, as well as their personal desires. That is their current mission and why they could not stay on this world, no matter what beauty the place holds.

Therefore, at dawn, their time was up.

Aether and Lumine gave the world one last glance, melancholic to finally leave it. Solstice is held by her brother, snoozing on his shoulder. They chose a spot that gave them the smallest view of the old windmill, one of two things that remained in tact amongst the infrastructures of the desolated town. Amongst the sharp cliffs which cross over each other, families of tiny creatures seem to peek out from wherever they kept themselves hidden. As dawn arrived, the fog lifts like a curtain from the trenches and isolated corners. The waters began to clear, sparkling like liquid diamonds against the rays of a rising sun.

The Outlanders turned, wings spread as they jumped into the portal for their next quest.

The morning breeze bade them farewell.

『 —as she wanes from Terra's might 』

Even with millennia of experience, the twins have yet to find the "answers" to the universe.

All Outlanders were born in Cosmogenesis, yet none ever stayed. It was the same for Aether and Lumine, entitled by their peers as The Light Bearers through the names they were given. Both came to existence and then ventured out once they have grown old enough, all to find the world where they can settle down together. Alas, neither expected it to be as difficult as it had been. Some veteran Outlanders describe it as never knowing until you find that place, home. There is no logic behind finding one. It is a feeling that they can only hope to experience once in a lifetime. Even some Outlanders as old as time have yet to find theirs.

Aether and Lumine had visited many stars with Solstice, even before their younger sister had fully matured. One of the first worlds had been populated with dragons, a diversity of ecosystems as habitat to specific breeds. There were no other creatures aside from smaller animals that likely function as prey, deeming the world a perilous shelter for the siblings even if only temporarily. The twins would have hopped to another world the moment they arrived; yet Solstice, with her ever curious nature, made them stay.

Perhaps, because dragons were the first lifeforms she saw outside of Cosmogenesis, she quickly took a liking to them.

『 Veiled in amber haze 』

Solstice giggles, reaching her hand out as far as she could dare towards the dragon.

Aether has her body securely wrapped in a blanket while she was hugged protectively to his chest, warm and safe. Upon first seeing a giant beast, most people would react with caution. The wise move is to slowly and carefully step back in order to not alarm or provoke it. However, his baby sister had the opposite reaction. Her ecstatic smile seems to intrigue the beast as well since it laid down. The new position made it appear small and vulnerable, an invitation for the Outlanders to come closer.

Aether and Lumine share a bemused look.

Solstice, in the bundle of blankets, continues to reach her hand out to the dragon. She kept her Primo Stella rattle close to her chest with the other hand. The dragon itself is smaller than others but longer, more like a reptilian drake if not for its obvious wings. It has an extra pair of legs to keep its elongated body supported. Its wings were brightly colored, from a golden rose tinting towards a gradient black like the void. The twins were not surprised that the young Outlander was so intrigued by the beast.

First, Lumine had walked closer to test the patience of the draconic creature. They needed to confirm how close it would let them get. It would not have been the first time that either of the twins saw a creature of this ilk. Sometimes, the dragons would be big and others much smaller; but all can still be dangerous in their own ways. Many differences in color palettes made them interesting as well, yet always recognizable as draconic. There are breeds which had been quick to rage, hence their worries.

The young woman stopped within arm's length and held her hand out, letting the wild yet wise creature approach on its own pace. After an intense glare, it acquiesced by nudging its snout towards her palm.

After Lumine had been able to pet it, Aether took the chance to walk closer. He still shielded Solstice's frame with his free arm, just in case. If something happened, both would be quicker than the dragon could attack. He knew this well, yet his protective instinct held his sister closer to his form. The young man lays his hand on the other side of the dragon's head once he was sure he had permission.

"You want to touch the dragon as well?" He asks Solstice gently.

Aether adjusts her position in a way where the little girl would be facing the dragon. Both her hands reach out to the dragon, even the one holding the rattle. Her hand makes contact with the scales and, as it does, she squeals with excited laughter.

For a moment, the twins heard the dragon purr.

『 Fueled by violent rage 』

During their time on this world, the dragon had kept them company like a silent guardian.

Besides dragons, the world lacked forms of human civilization no matter how far they sought. Not even anything that bear a semblance of ancient ruins, or even hieroglyphs of history could be found on any landmass. The caves in the mountains were enough for the dragons to call home. Furthermore, they come in all sorts of types: vishaps, wyverns, drakes, wyrms, lindwyrms, amphipteres, basilisks, hydra, bahamuts, leviathans, and of course the typical dragons. Each functioned as an independent unit or clan, while there are those preferring to go solo and hoard their treasures. Aether and Lumine had talked about staying since Solstice loved this world so much, but then decided otherwise.

Thus, the twins set out to other worlds. They were determined to keep trying to discover that feeling—the sensation which their fellow Outlanders often told them in stories. Solstice had been too young to understand the reasoning her siblings gave, but she nevertheless made no trouble as they left. While the twins searched for another star, she looked back at the small gathering of dragons. They watched the trio intently, as if bidding them a safe journey and a bittersweet goodbye. At the very front is the dragon which greeted them first upon their arrival.

Big round eyes shimmered with glee as they peek over Lumine's shoulder. A chubby fist waved and the rattle, which it held, chimed with a melodic echo.

The Twin Outlanders spread their wings as they left the world of dragons behind...

...and it faded with the mightiest of roars.

『 Dancing, discordant— 』

In Cosmogenesis, a star named Luciel dies.

Cosmogenesis is a vast space located at the center of infinity, the origin of the universe yet not quite the one that birthed it. The dimension has a plethora of stars and galaxies revolving around a group of levitating platforms, each designed as archaic suns and moons. They serve as welcoming perches for Outlanders to rest or stargaze. However, the widest one at the center of all serves as the universal chamber for newborn Outlanders. It can transform to properly accommodate those too young to leave and survive independently, whether as a cradle in a nursery or as an entire house floating through the cosmos. Directly across is a gaping maw that serves as a gateway wherein Outlanders can enter or leave the cosmic space. Sometimes, it even becomes an all-seeing mirror to view a specific galaxy or black hole from far away.

Now, at the peak of Cosmogenesis, the birth of Luciel's twins is about to occur.

From all across the universe, Outlanders gather to witness the birth of Aether and Lumine—the pair of siblings incubated by Luciel and now to be born from its timely death. It is extremely rare for twins to be conceived by the stars of Cosmogenesis, yet never really dangerous. Although, as two souls that shared one star, they will live with a connection that binds them for life.

It is a special bond that cannot be severed.

The Outlanders watch as the star collapses on itself, seeming to gather every wisp of its light. In seconds, the core of this star shrinks and takes the shape of newborns about to breathe their first. A supernova explodes with a flurry of dazzling light and stardust, covering the expanse of Cosmogenesis. Witnesses were blinded by the sheer brightness of nothing but white, a familiar ringing noise lingering in their ears.

Alas, the experience is always worth it.

After all, the birth of an Outlander happens only once every million years in Cosmogenesis.

Then, as color returned to their sights, they admired what seems to be the most beautiful supernova they have ever witnessed. The ivory haze fades out, making way to the colored nebula that remained. Clouds of various shades and hues float as stages to the multitude of dancing stardust, like galactic fairies doing an imperial ballet. From its core, Aether and Lumine slowly descend into the cradle of silk which rose and formed from the central platform.

With the birth of the twins, the star named Luciel was gone and only left a stellar nebula in its place.

The elderly Outlanders named it: Luciella.

In Cosmogenesis, nebulae are considered nurseries for future stars. Then, should a star die again after a million years or so, it shall give birth to another Outlander or two. There are certain conditions where a nebula would disperse into the maw and become a new galaxy instead, which will expand the universe further outward. It shall go beyond the wide scope of Cosmogenesis, and then possibly birth all sorts of species. This cycle of life and death has been on loop since the beginning of time; and it can only end with the death of the universe itself.

The Outlanders slowly leave their perches to check on the twins. One by one, they approached to impart their blessings in the form of welcoming smiles and well-wishes in different languages. The newborns responded with soft coos and huffing whimpers, still asleep. Like most newborn Outlanders, Aether and Lumine will likely not open their eyes until their first birthday. That is when they would have absorbed enough energy from the cosmos to enable their five senses to observe their surroundings.

『 —spinning in retrograde 』

Once an Outlander is born, the energy that flows within Cosmogenesis serves as their overall sustenance. A species known only in Cosmogenesis called the stardust pixies are also present to educate them, based on accumulated knowledge from all corners of the universe. Because of this, most Outlanders live without a parental figure. There are some that choose to personally mentor the younglings, but most just leave after witnessing the birth and let nature take its course.

Aether and Lumine remained in Cosmogenesis for a little over a decade. They spent that time gathering enough energy and training their powers with help from the pixies. A veteran Outlander will sometimes come to pay them a visit and give some helpful tips, preparing them for their own future travels. Those moments made the dimension less lonely, but the twins were eager to just leave it as well. It was too barren and too dull, even with the mesmerizing view of the cosmos. Even the flickering company of the pixies does little to soothe them.

Maybe this is the reason why no Outlander ever chose to stay here for long...

When they had enough power to fend off any dangers, the twins attempted their first world-hop.

It was an exhilaration like no other.

During the next few centuries, the twins jumped from world to world. They discovered new civilized species, new fauna, new flora, and cultures that are so inherently unique from each other. On the rarest instances, they would even cross paths with fellow Outlanders. Once, they were fortunate enough to meet those who found their true home; and these Elders managed to tell them in even greater detail when a world feels like their true home. Such tales inspired Aether and Lumine to journey even further, making them witness the rise and fall of countless stars in multiple galaxies. There were times they would stay longer in a particular world they both like, but it was never a permanent place to stay. It was not the home which the Elders told, and certainly not what their restless natures seek as Outlanders.

Although, there are times that the twins did find this quest tediously impossible.

"Home is when we're together." Aether would tell his twin sister with an encouraging grin.

Lumine would hold his hand in response, "We will always have enough time."

『 Born from the sea and the waves 』

Every Outlander is linked to Cosmogenesis.

Since birth, they all possess a homing beacon within their core that will lead them back to it. If there is an enemy they cannot defeat, the realm will always leave an open gateway for them to escape. If there is any adversity they can hardly surpass, the realm is a place for them to heal. It was odd how it can even operate as some sort of telepathic or empathic link amongst their kind. For this reason, news of any particular Outlander can be received from all parts and corners of the universe. On the other hand, Cosmogenesis can send visions that are treated as summons for special events that are too significant to miss. Examples are the formation of a galaxy after a nebula dispersed, or the discovery of another unnamed star. After all, one thing that unites all Outlanders other than finding their respective true home is the obligation to archive the truths of the universe.

The most common for these summons, of course, is the birth of a new Outlander.

When such an update reached Aether and Lumine, their first thought was that it made no sense whatsoever. It took a million years for an unnamed star to be born, and a hundred million more for it to die while birthing an Outlander—or two, in the rare case of twins like them. The timing was much too early. They were still so young compared to the rest of their kind, barely a few millenniums old. Both of them were still trying to find their own place in the cosmos.

Then, so unexpectedly, another was born.

Therefore, the Outlanders gathered once again.

It was certainly different from most births witnessed in Cosmogenesis. Admittedly, it was underwhelming compared to the surreal display that the recent birth of the twins had demonstrated. Nevertheless, there was a certain beauty to seeing a nebula swirl and converge. It was like a calm vortex before the eruption of a storm. Nobody can ever truly know if it will reach and hit them, or whether there would really be a storm to anticipate.

They all watched, patient and reassured.

"You know," an Elder addressed the twins, "since this child will be born from the nebula of your star, they are considered your sibling by Outlander standards."

Aether blinked confusedly, "Our sibling...?"

The Elder nodded, "You were both born from the star of Luciel, and this child will be born from the Luciella nebula. By that context, you share the same flesh and blood."

"Has there been an incident like this?" Lumine asked.

"Only a few," the Elder replied solemnly, "mostly because this case is as rare—if not rarer—as twins being born from the same star. Fitting, that the three of you will be tied together by destiny."

Those words filled the twins with a joyous sort of excitement, an anxious type of expectance.

『 From a cosmic array 』

Much like Luciel's supernova, there was nothing quite like the convergence of Luciella. There was no explosion, no blinding lights, and no obnoxious noise ringing in their ears—just the remaining dust and gas from Luciel which became Luciella. However, a sort of fascination brewed as these clouds of gas and stardust came together. They gathered at the eye of the storm, where light and heat was slowly building like flame in a hearth. Perhaps a forge is a more accurate comparison, wherein a simple ore can take a more concrete form. Nonetheless, the Outlanders all stood aside to watch as the colors of Luciella turns itself into a ball of light.

Then, a shockwave announced the birth of this unexpected little Outlander.

It was the birth of the twins' baby sibling.

A baby sibling.

Aether and Lumine mused in awed tandem. They could never ask for more. Amongst their fellow wanderers, they watched as the tiny infant made a slow descent. Remains of Luciella floated around them like a protective cloak, all fluffy clouds and sparkling dust.

The twins moved before any of their peers, standing upon the central platform before a cradle could even form. Their baby sibling kept floating down while wrapped in a bundle of silk manifested by the stardust pixies. They approached quietly, each planting themselves at one side of the fragile newborn. With a brief glance, the pair came to an immediate understanding.

Lumine was the first to hold the baby close, a girl as they discovered. She cooed as the little one fussed at the sensation of being embraced. Comforted by the humming and rocking of an older sister, she settled down with faint sniffles.

Meanwhile, Aether seems to know by instinct on what to do next as he stared up at the remnants of Luciella. He did spare a look at the Elders, whom nodded back to encourage his plan. There was no way that another star—let alone an entire galaxy—could be born from it anymore, yet a powerful resonance lingered as a thrumming of magic. The young man summons a relic in the shape of a crystal, and then seals it all away. He feels his twin sister assist him by lending her own power by holding his shoulder with her free hand. The relic transformed into a baby rattle, housing a small glowing star in its sphere and producing a soothing sound.

Primo Stella, whispered Cosmogenesis.

Its energy will stabilize their little one until she can fully harness its power with her own.

Aether gently tucks the rattle with his little sister, delicately petting her head. He presses a chaste kiss on her hand, so small and soft compared to his. A warm smile accompanied his tearful eyes. His chest swelled with adoration as he felt the tiny fingers squeeze his own single digit.

Lumine did the same as her brother, taking their little sister's other one. Like her twin, she tenderly kisses the dainty fingers so faintly squeezing onto hers. Her breath hitched due to the surge of affection that consumed her.

Solstice would be her name, they decided.

Their dear little sister.

Her birth was yet another miracle, and it would be their miracle to keep. Nothing in the world would stop them from loving their little traveler. Nothing in the universe could stop them from cherishing and protecting such a treasure.

On Solstice's first birthday, she opened her eyes for the first time like any other Outlander. She gathered enough energy to sustain herself, especially with the help of Primo Stella. Her eyes mirrored a thousand stars as she looked up at the twins, whom gazed back in breathless admiration. Light reflected as wisps of silver that gleamed like clair de lune, and colors blended as a symphony of worlds within a thriving galaxy. They twinkled charmingly, a play of enchantment that leads bystanders into a trance.

She was beautiful, and so very precious.

Aether and Lumine beamed proudly at their little sister as she laughed, rattle shaking in her hand.

Solstice understood. This is her family.

『 Of the colors in space 』

It was dark.

It was cold yet warmth lingers.

It felt like nothing at all, but there was enough of something for it to be called hollow.

Solstice forcefully extends her hand forward, trying to grasp anything. It was an effort that seems to take a lot from her, as if her soul was literally being pulled out of her body. When she leans forward, her hand meets a sea of darkness—an endless void of nothingness. She reels back and tries again, pushing harder and further through what seems like a veil of nonexistence yet an opaque blanket of obscurity.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

The only thing accompanying her in this abyss is that familiar jingle, the faintest of chimes. A weirdly unique yet familiar sound...and no matter how hard she thinks, she has no idea where it originated. Her ears were so attuned to it, as if a habitual stirring from her soul which she always recognizes.

Solstice steps in the direction she thinks is forward yet had no way of confirming. How long has she been here? When she yells out for her older siblings, she is met by a deafening silence. For a moment, she doubts herself and halts in her tracks.

Perhaps, this is just a dream.

Aether and Lumine would never leave her alone, so it must be a dream. Yes, that must be it.

Henceforth, there is nothing to fear.

Again, Solstice tries to reach forward—failing, and then falling yet never meeting a surface. In a bout of frustration, she closes her eyes. She always took Primo Stella with her, the rattle Aether and Lumine gifted her at birth. If it was gone here as well, surely this was not real...right?

Solstice shuts her eyes tightly and tries to calm herself. Breath in. Breath out. She tries to think about all the worlds she had previously visited, and then imagines the worlds she has yet to see. It had been some time since the twins took her to another world, so they should be hopping to a different one soon.

Then, she will wake up.

Right...?

When the magical sound starts to fade away, the void started to feel like the closest corporeal experience of being able to breathe underwater. Solstice falls into a loveless embrace of darkness. An invisible weight makes her sink into the depths and she lets it, forevermore trapped in limbo. There was no cause for alarm, as she knows that her twin siblings would wake her up soon. They will take her to another world as they always did, together.

This is just a bad dream. A nightmare.

『 Nothingness erased 』

Lumine walks over to Aether.

"Isn't it about time you wake her up?" She asked.

The young lady puts the fruits she gathered in a basket next to her brother. He glances up from his makeshift workplace, humming. He then looks over to Solstice's figure, peacefully sleeping on one of the portable beds. Her rattle is tightly grasped and pushed against her chest. Sometimes, she would move and the toy would make a soft sound.

Aether shrugs, "I'll wake her up once breakfast is ready. She must be adjusting to this new world."

The sun was already up, as they were too after being trained as early risers. Both were ready for a new journey, yet neither of them woke up the little Outlander. Travelling across the mountains costs a lot of energy, especially from young Solstice who is yet to fully develop.

The three currently resided in a house the village had provided for them. The shelter gave them a chance to rest longer, and to bond with their little sister in-between commissions that earned them some coin for expenses. Solstice enjoyed spending her time with the villagers too. She was now able to properly communicate and spent her days chattering with them, kids and adults alike. Likewise, she listened to topics about their history and the tales they would spin playfully like straw on wheels.

It was no ordinary village either. The people all have tails and other animal attributes. As Aether and Lumine talked with the villagers, they got to know more about their transforming abilities. Most chose to show their animal attributes, even in humanoid form, and only a handful walked around without them. If the person is around a person they trust, then they are able to wholly morph into an animal as well—their true form, as they call it. That goes without saying, Solstice was curious and enjoyed the presence of these nature dwellers. She held a very particular fondness for the foxes and crows.

The sights also served as a pleasant playground, presenting a view of eternal spring. The blossoming trees never seem to run out of petals that rain down and flutter with the morning breeze. It was not odd to find a coat of pink somewhere as a result. Some would make piles of them and jump on it, laughing with resounding echoes.

The other day, Solstice had spent the entire noon running with the neighborhood's children. They had been showing off their animal forms, running faster than Solstice who would do her best to keep up; and when she got tired, the children would run back and sit down with her. She is now 3-years-old, and is able to do most things without any hands-on guidance from the twins. Outlanders adjusted fairly easily and she was no exception, thankfully. Solstice might be a petite young miss, but she was already quite adept at understanding adult conversations.

Aether puts the fruits he had cut in a bowl and then wakes Solstice up. He pokes her cheek gently, trying to coax her out of dreamland.

"Sol," he murmurs, "breakfast is ready."

She groans, nose scrunching in displeasure, but she still blinks her eyes open as requested. They squint at the ray of sunshine peeking through the windows, blinding her. As she moves to sit up, the rattle jingles again and her hand clutches it by habit. It reminds her of the stars she sees every night. No matter which world they greet, the stars always seem to be constant. They make it easier to adapt.

Solstice stretches her arms and yawns.

"Good morning." She says groggily.

"Put some other clothes on before you eat." Lumine says as she walks past. She ruffles her little sister's bedhead, making it even messier.

From across the room, Aether adds: "We're going to the other island today so try to hurry."

Solstice looks up, shoulders sagging as her brows furrowed together.

"Today...?" She parroted.

Her voice is quiet, hesitant and disappointed.

Aether crosses his arms over his chest, honey gold eyes stern yet soft. He knows that the villagers have grown on Solstice and vice versa, but it could not be helped. They cannot afford any more delays. Like the previous worlds, this one is not their true home and so leaving was a matter of time. They already stayed longer than usual for Solstice's sake, to let her play with kids around her own age.

"We want to explore this world a bit more before heading to the next. We talked about this." He ever so patiently explains again.

Every time Solstice had to leave people behind, she got sad. Both Aether and Lumine could understand the feeling, since they were the same when they hopped between worlds the first few times. It is what made an Outlander's quest difficult, especially on their younger days. Before Solstice was born, the twins settled down on the older stars until they died as if in sympathy. It was different now though, now that they have grown. In some way, they were more indifferent to the thought of leaving. They stayed detached from every world once they realize it lacks the aura of "home" which they sought.

Someday, their little sister will understand too.

Or, if they were fortunate, they could find their true home before that youthful wonder could fade from her eyes. Her older siblings certainly hoped for it.

After a while, Solstice smiles again.

"Maybe we can come back someday..."

The hopeful tone made it seem like a question, a bit more rhetoric and expected no answer.

Aether nods his head anyway, smiling back.

The pink petals and scarlet leaves from the trees outside blow through the open windows. The curtains fluttered, and the windchimes tinkled like a fairy's giggle.

"Maybe someday..."

The next world they visited was composed of a kingdom in endless winter. The terrain was basically just various states of frozen tundra, with wildlife along the botanic coastlines and amongst the cliffside forestry. Average weather was filled with long-lasting blizzards that hindered the three from adventuring outside for longer periods. If it was not for the village they had found, the twins would have moved on to the next world as soon as possible regardless of their depleting stamina. While the situation remained unpleasant, Solstice needed to rest and she always took priority above all else for the older duo. Thankfully, the people in the village were kind and offered to shelter the three for as long as needed. The twins accepted with humble gratitude in their hearts.

A jolly huntsman offered one of his unoccupied cabins so he was put in charge over their care. He wasted no time escorting them home, especially after seeing Aether holding a smaller body to his chest rather protectively.

"These will suit you three well." Their host said with a welcoming smile, holding out a pile of fabric.

Lumine took the proffered items, seeing that they were thermal clothing and hooded fur coats. There are also three pairs of warmed wool socks and indoor leather boots. A glance towards their front door revealed a few crates of food and coal.

She bowed deeply, "Thank you so much."

As soon as they were left alone, she took the clothes to her siblings. She let Aether get dressed first as she took over the job of changing Solstice. Their poor little sister was already too drowsy to move by herself due to the freezing temperature. Once she was all cozily tucked into the sheets of blanket and comforters, Lumine took her turn to switch to her own set of warmer clothes. Her twin brother exited the bathroom just as she entered, and cuddled their youngest to share some body heat.

For the rest of the visit, Solstice had been a lot less talkative yet retained her jubilance. Her tiny body does not have much resistance to extreme climates like this one. They had not been in the cold long enough to cause damage, yet she still needed to recover her energy. As she slept, she kept her rattle close to her chest to absorb more of its mana. Because Solstice needed to recover from the harsh circumstances, Aether and Lumine decided to delay the next world travel. The duo let her sleep as long as needed, and waited until their sister was ready to leave.

"I'll be back soon." Aether yelled with a salute.

Lumine waves him goodbye from a distance, silently wishing him a safe trip. Solstice timidly poked her head out from behind her older sister's legs, as she waved and grinned at their departing brother.

Aether had offered to help their host hunt down food and get some more supplies. He was now heading into Pinewood Forest with a borrowed hunting gear, and a huge husky acting as his guide. Because of Solstice's delicate state, Lumine remained in the village to look after her. She would be there for her if she needed something while their brother explored.

When the twins had set out to find a home, they knew that travelling dimensions might have a stronger and direr impact on the newborn Outlander. They had taken her out of Cosmogenesis earlier than most Outlanders would leave. With the combined powers of Aether and Lumine, they found a solution through Primo Stella. They had made that relic, her rattle, to seal the remains of Luciella. This way, she would have a reserve of cosmic energy to sustain herself while travelling from world to world. Then, on her 16th year, the power contained in the relic will permanently merge with her when she is finally ready. While sealing it was convenient, the two constantly worried about their sister's curious nature breaking it by accident and releasing the dormant power prematurely.

Lumine watches Aether disappear into the forest with an eager pep in his step. She turns around and heads back into the house where they stayed, firmly holding Solstice's hand. The twins were used to doing commissions in other worlds as well so both were willing to help the villagers, especially ones so kind and generous. However, now with Solstice in their lives, they could not freely do these missions together anymore. It was fine with them. She has full faith in her twin brother's return, and he felt the same way whenever the jobs are reversed. Both would gladly protect the little traveler as long as needed.

As soon as they sat by the fireplace, the younger female yawned while rubbing her eyes.

Lumine smiled fondly, sweeping her sister's fringe behind her flushed ears.

"Do you want a naptime story?" She asks.

Solstice beamed as she snuggled up to her older sister's side. Her head rested on Lumine's lap, mumbling her soft thanks when she felt a thick fleece blanket cover her. A doting voice lulled her to sleep as it regaled her with tales about an ice queen and her eleven knights. Before she could succumb, a caring hand combs through the strands of her hair and massages her scalp.

Once again, Solstice was in deep slumber.

『 Come dance with her in the stars 』

It was the same darkness again.

Alas, something was different—not with the void, but with her own thineself. She could feel the thrumming in her veins and the soulfulness of her breaths.

Solstice sensed power within her.

The young Outlander was no stranger to power or otherworldly magic. She was a being born from the center of infinity, a fragment of cosmogony. Even if she has yet to learn how to channel it, she is more than aware that it has always existed within her. However, this time, it was practically tangible. She can envision that power and hold it as easy as lifting her Primo Stella rattle. It was the first thing that she knows she can legitimately grasp in this endless void, and so gripped tightly as if it was her lifeline.

Her ears perked up at the sound of familiar chimes, echoing in the depths. There was no source as the reverberation seems to surround her. It kept tinkling even before the preceding echo could fade, like the persistent ticking of an antique clock. The hypnotic rhythm allured her to its pendulum chant. Her body takes a fetal position, directing her hands to her chest. A ball of light takes form in her cupped palms, peeking from the gaps of her fingers. Her eyes remained shut as she begins to lose awareness the more she embraced the divinity which hummed in her veins.

One last chime resounded in the abyss before it stopped for good.

The little traveler gradually straightened her posture; yet now, it has become a mystery if she has fallen half-asleep. Her bare feet finally make contact with a surface, but it rippled more like water. It did not matter, since she stayed as upright and steady as if it was a cemented pathway. Her cupped hands pushed forward, and it unraveled like a spring flower in full bloom to present a radiant beacon.

Thus, Solstice decreed unto the darkness:

"Let there be light."

...and light was.

It scattered as stars from the beacon which shone vibrantly from her hands. Some gathered to become the moon and another cluster created the sun, born simultaneously amidst a sea of twilight. As all light did, it took more shapes and then life was breathed into each one by her spiritual will. When the last wisp flew off, her limbs began to move in a choreography that matches a melody only she can hear.

The Outlander danced with a serene smile, yet her eyes stayed close as if in slumber. Her hands waved and swayed, arms swinging gracefully as the waves that followed her bidding. Each step made the water ripple until it lifted her up, making the petals of a flower cradling its fairy queen. Her legs kicked up as she spun with mildly flawed yet nevertheless charming pirouettes. The stars danced with her, and pixie dust gathered like a mystic robe. Some stars gained a spectrum of colors, appearing to mimic glass prisms reflecting rays of light. They flew as crystal cores that grew a pair of large wings each, fluttering around their creator delightedly.

Beauty and grace, Solstice is the light.

『 Watch her transit afar 』

Solstice stares with unbridled awe, eyes wide open and mouth shamelessly agape.

Currently, she and her siblings are riding by gondola as they toured this new world. It is indeed a fortress that earned its title as a city of water. The state is structured by large buildings seemingly built straight from the ocean floor. A single yet solidly wide and long bridge was the only access by land to the main entrance of the city from the rest of the world. Small waterfalls circled it along the bottom, streaming from the rest of civilization. Every architectural work is a breathtaking masterpiece with clear intentions of representing the people's love for renaissance art; yet the subtle intonations betrayed their ambitious pursuits for technological advancement.

Aether curiously wondered outloud if he could take samples of a few gadgets, like the thing they call mobile phones. He thought it could be useful amidst their travels. Lumine was intrigued by the idea; but she also brought up a particular downside: this technology might stop working well when they jump to another world. They are not inclined to waste resources over something that will likely fail them before it could serve its worth.

It was, nonetheless, an interesting possibility.

Outside of the city, the entire civilization seems to run on water for everything. Within it, the towns did not disappoint at all. Rather than paths of cobblestone and concrete, most of the streets are either rivers that need a gondola to travel or bridges that entwine one harbor to another. The state was so big they can only reach this side rather than the elite capital that housed the aristocratic population. Their gondolier sang praises about it, calling the place the center of history enriched with ancient knowledge as much as material wealth. Although, he sassed that a few of the folks could use some attitude adjustment.

As the three arrive at the docks, they are met by a swarm of people leading into the urban area. It was the marketplace side of the harbor so the crowd was to be expected. There are also less towering houses which gave them a view of the distant mountains on the more rural islands.

When the ever curious Solstice asked what was out there, the gondolier hummed kindly yet firmly.

"Only adventurers dare to travel on those parts, dear little one." He said, "The aristocrats reach out to the guilds to commission them in harvesting the rarest materials from the mountains. Historians say it is a home to enlightened sages, whom helped push this city to its current glory and prosperity."

He playfully pokes her forehead with a scary face—

"Others believe it is a home for colossal monsters that sometimes lurk under our seas."

—but his countenance was so dramatic and comical that his words only amused the little girl rather than terrify her, much to her siblings' relief.

The friendly man chortled in tandem, beaming at Aether and Lumine knowingly.

"I think you two might be capable enough." He commented, "Those commissions fetch quite hefty prices. If you're interested in exploring while earning some quick money, I highly suggest taking a few of them from the guild. It's an automatic permission to travel the commonly restricted areas, such as the catacombs."

Lumine tilted her head bemusedly, "The catacombs, you say...?"

"You'll recognize them when you see them, milady~!"

Aether gives one last thanks to the gondolier, paying a good tip for his entertaining tour. He then heads for the city with his sisters, acting as the barricade between them and the strangers inevitably bumping into them. One of his hands was placed on his twin sister's shoulder to not lose them since her hands were occupied with Solstice, though he made sure not to put weight on it. His aureate eyes were kept sharp and alert, yet they also gleamed appraisingly while absorbing the magnificent sights. It has been a long time since he felt this childish excitement well up from his chest.

Lumine opted to carry Solstice on her back to avoid losing her in the crowd. She appeared just as gleeful as her twin brother, but retained vigilance. Her head turned to various stalls, selling everything from food to souvenirs. A mental note was made to buy new durable clothes for her little sister, whom is starting to outgrow her current sets.

"Look, look! Mimin, look there."

Solstice points with her rattle at the seagulls. As expected from a city of harbors, there was a great abundance of them gathering to fetch discarded morsels. No doubt, they were also being a bit of a nuisance to the tourists. The twins swore they even spotted a few pelicans hovering from the bright blue sky.

"Do you like the birds?" Aether asks adoringly before they passed by the avians.

Solstice hums affirmatively, giggling when some of the birds made funny faces at her.

For the little traveler, this was the first big city she has ever seen. The worlds they have discovered so far were usually centralized in nature, and the urban ones tend to be small towns rather than an evolved metropolis like this one. A perk which made the twins thank their lucky stars is that tourists are also quite common here. This fact effectively refrained them from sticking out and catching unwanted attention. It seems like the three could comfortably settle down here for a while until Solstice was ready for the next hop.

•

When first arriving here, the twins had been initially disappointed and a little depressed.

Once again, this world lacked the spark of "home" much like the previous ones. At times, Aether and Lumine would feel lost but still kept moving forward if only for Solstice. The small Outlander did not seem to mind the delay though, not at all. Instead, she seemed to enjoy herself in this world. The twins also took this opportunity to spend time with their baby sibling, cheered up by her optimism for life and adventure. Perhaps, that is why they decided to settle down in this world for a little longer. From a smaller town, they travelled on another boat to the capital city.

Fortunately, it was their lively gondolier again!

They even learn his name this time: Pierre.

"Good morn, my friends~!" He sang.

Aether and Lumine grinned at him while Solstice squealed, glomping the laughing man's legs.

Once away from the docks and into the actual city, the three could see bigger stands as well as more sophisticated shops that likely sell more exclusive wares. Almost everything is either an expensive boutique or a remote pawnshop. This part of the state have structures primarily made out of a white stone—resembling marble and jade—giving the city a clean and luxurious look.

Behind the city and separated by the ocean from miles away, the mountains are more visible now due to proximity and less obtrusive structures to block the view. Each is as high as the clouds, almost matching the castle towers and wealthy manors. Veiled by heavy mist, the eldritch silhouettes loomed from afar like phantoms with glowing eyes. Despite its gloomy outlook, the formation of the mountains were almost protective as they encompass the borders of entire city state. Once again, their gondolier told them about the rumored monsters. He speaks of how the ocean surrounding the city has been cradling beasts as big as these same mountains for millions of years. It is relatively debated whether some of them could be guardians of the fortress.

Since the city was surrounded by water, it was good for import and export trading as mentioned. Day in and day out, the city would receive goods from ships that would be sailing for weeks to trade. This is why the common grounds had docks scattered all over the territory. The capital was more formal since businesses are conducted through a schedule of meetings and the daily signings of orderly lawful contracts. Like they were told, commissions came easy through the guild and the merchants across the harbor. Both Aether and Lumine soon had gathered enough coin to live leisurely.

Once the twins had found an inn, they rented a room to leave some of their things. Then, they decided to visit the popular tourist spots and scenic routes to entertain Solstice. They took her to waterfalls, a smaller one where they can carefully guide her small hand into the flowing water. It never failed to make her laugh, which gained enamored smiles from her older siblings. The two had taken her on boat trips as well, sailing between the rows of houses in the rivers that crossed the city.

At one point, the twins followed the advice of taking commissions that let them explore the mountain islands. Sadly, Solstice had to sit out for her own safety; but she did not mind after getting bribed with a chance to spend a day in the capital's playground park. After hiring a trustworthy babysitter from the guild, they set off. Neither of the twins encountered any immortal sages, but they did feel many watchful eyes on them—wary yet not hostile—the entire time they lingered. They actually got lost a few times too, but trails of will-o'-the-wisps helped them get back on the right path. Aether even found secret passages that led to the infamous catacombs. As a lofty story to tell their sister, Lumine was more than excited to decipher the history behind them. It was a dark and spooky area but neither of the Outlanders were genuinely fazed by it.

They ended up discovering deep tunnels that went underwater. It was a series of coves wherein guild members are stationed at a checkpoint cabin if adventurers wish to scuba dive. Aether actually had fun with getting back to the city state that way, while Lumine opted to just use the transport they had upon arriving in the mountain isles. It will not do to neglect the sailors that helped them travel here.

Besides visiting these tourist spots, Solstice got to try out many delicacies as well.

•

Lumine walks back to the table once she finished ordering their food.

The twins had decided to visit a popular restaurant today since they will be setting out to another world soon. Before that, they wanted to give Solstice the opportunity to taste whatever she wanted. All three of them are quite the foodies, which makes gourmet their default bonding moment. It was hard to leave, especially when the twins have no idea what would come next. They could only hope that "home" is as fun for their little sister as this world.

"Don't let the bird bite you." Aether warned.

He watches guardedly as Solstice crouched down next to the seagulls. A piece of bread is in her hand, tearing it crumb by crumb to feed the birds. They can always find a colony of them in every tourist spot they visited. The youngest Outlander liked to befriend them but Aether disapproved. As she hears her older brother call out for her, Solstice stands up again and turns away. She shoots one last goodbye and returns to her siblings.

When Lumine sees her sister struggle to get on the chair, she helps by lifting her up.

"Did you make new friends?" She asks.

Solstice always had a soft spot for winged animals, specifically dragons. Birds would do just as well, especially colorful ones like peacocks or the dainty hummingbirds. She also likes a few insects such as butterflies, dragonflies, and bumblebees—as long as she keeps her distance to avoid giving the twins a heart attack. In response to her sister's question, the little traveler puts up two fingers.

"Two, eh?" Lumine teased playfully, "I think that makes it...twenty-one bird friends already?"

She turns around and grins mockingly at Aether, who just glared back at her. He somehow had managed to get pecked by the seagulls when taking Solstice away from them. Apparently, the things get moody when a third party tries to take their snack supplier away. One flock would peck and pull on Aether's braids, while another would act like perfect little angels by nuzzling Solstice for more food. Ever since then, he had held a grudge. The feeling seems mutual with how they tauntingly squawk at the mere sight of him.

During dinner, the trio listened to a storyteller who had been entertaining the restaurant regularly. Much like Pierre yet more solemn than comedic, the old wiseman recounts about ancient tales and stories of the ocean monsters. He also spoke myths regarding the sages in the mountains, about how they grant wishes and protection via lantern rites on the first full moon of the year. There are even tales of a clash between these sages and the ocean beasts so long ago, before ending on a treaty that paved the way for the age of contracts. His version had more details, focusing on facts with immersive flare than theatric entertainment. Solstice had been more intrigued by the storyteller than the food. Both of the twins had to remind her to eat before the food got cold and unappetizing.

The next morning, Aether and Lumine took Solstice to yet another world.

『 Crossing Sol's burning gaze 』

"Whoa!" Solstice exclaims, "What is that?"

Her mouth is parted in dumbfounded shock before just as quickly turning into an excited grin. Her eyes are focused on the erupting volcano in the distance, ashclouds and magma rising. In the middle of the night, a powerful shockwave was released by said volcano which then captured the attention of the three Outlanders.

Aether lifts Solstice up in his arms.

"It's a volcano." He replied.

Lumine walks up next to her brother and ruffles her sister's hair, a habit she had developed.

"No worries." She reassured calmly, "We won't feel its impact here. Most we'll notice is the shockwave that already passed."

The trio can see how the gray ashclouds invaded the previously clear blue skies. Its cluster is gradually taking over the territory around it like an avalanche of soot. The bright lava gave a beautiful firework show as it exploded into the air before flowing down like a slow stream of rio grande. As hypnotic as its beauty appeared, the people closer to the volcano are likely looking at it in terror.

Solstice's eyes are wide open, staring at the lava still shooting into the air. The glimmers in her eyes now stand out even more because of the bright light it casts. As she watched the force of nature, her twin siblings found it more fascinating and amusing to watch her reactions. They exchanged wide smiles before leaving their little sister by the window, now aiming to get some snacks. It was pointless to try falling back asleep by now.

The trio had been sleeping in a cottage built in an oasis on the other side of a jungle. They had seen the volcano but decided to move around it, travelling through the thick marshes and swamps. It was a bit troublesome for the twins, especially with a small child to carry the entire way; but it seems like they made the right choice in the end. A few insects and wandering wild animals from the unforgiving jungle were no match to a duo of protective siblings. They did spot treehouses spread out in the dryer parts of the forestry, but only few people were stationed. It was more likely a bunch of outposts than legitimate residences, but all of them look fortified as real functional shelters.

Solstice's eyes are still focused on the volcano. Its eruption lasted long, and it made her want to stay awake for the whole night. The lava had shone so brightly, an ominous glow that depicts beauty in a natural catastrophe. An adventurous voice inside of her said, "Touch the bright glowy thing!"

—but both Aether and Lumine had explained that it was dangerous. That is why they had taken a detour in the first place, which meant no touching.

The little traveler nods sagely, "I'm a good girl."

In this world as well, Solstice experienced many new things. First, they landed in a desert. There was sand everywhere, and it was too hard for Solstice to walk amongst the dunes. Luckily, there were friendly animals that she could ride as the twins guided it with a leash. The caretakers called them "camels" which resembled horses with lumps on their backs, and a relatively goofier face. Once out of the desert, they found signs of civilization. Unfortunately, the twins thought it was too close to the volcano as they ventured towards the jungle. Soon enough, they reached the oasis just on the other side of the jungle and renovated the cottage for shelter.

When the Outlanders had ventured further into the jungle, they had noticed its great food source and minerals; and if there was a lot of food, a village follows where the river runs. For the next few days, the twins had searched for another town yet they only stumbled upon this oasis cottage. Inside, there were maps and books which gave the two enough information about this world. From what they have read, the former owner must have been a researcher or perhaps even a fellow traveler.

It was no permanent home, everyone knew; but they decided to stay a few more days. Survival in this world was more tiring than usual, even for Aether and Lumine. Rather than earning money through commissions, they needed to scavenge for their own food and other daily resources. Thankfully, the maps aided them in finding the good spots and the notes told them what was safe to consume or otherwise better left alone. Solstice even found a hidden ledger for medicinal herbs and potion mixtures. There was also a chest of interesting clothes, looking like they belong to fairies due to how they sparkled. The style varies from tunics, off-shouldered crop tops, veils, turbans, harem pants, cardigans, shawls, scarves, and vests. The bottom is filled with gold accessories and gemstone jewelry, very priceless and heavy.

In respect to the former owners, Aether and Lumine returned the chest to where they found it.

Indeed, they will just spend a few more days here to recuperate and perhaps even train. After all, their youngest is at a good age to learn more about her powers and practice swordsmanship. There is no time like the present to seize the day.

Afterwards, they would venture out again.

Solstice is outside, playing with her Primo Stella rattle and unleashing its jingle. The unique sound has always somehow calmed her, reminding her of the realm where she was born—Cosmogenesis, the twins told her of its name. There are times in-between worlds where Aether and Lumine would take her for a short stop in the dimension. It was usually to ask for some advice from the older Outlanders. Meanwhile, she is usually left to play with the stardust pixies that take form due to the realm's cosmic energy. Then, her siblings would join her again and share some stories that the Elders had told them when they were little.

The innovative little girl wonders if she can make those same pixies with Primo Stella.

While she was playing, the twins are getting ready to leave the current world. They gather the few things they have in their possession, such as their swords and extra clothes. Their wings are out and openly exposed, ready for the flight to another star. Every now and then, the appendages would move to help them levitate and reach a higher shelf.

Lumine walks inside the cottage and checks it one last time for good measure. They could not afford to leave behind anything. Last night, both of the twins had returned the interior as they found it—a trivial thing they always did in courtesy, but also to leave no traces. It was an innate habit that most Outlanders develop, to never ever imprint signs of attachment to a world that is not their home. It helps deter them from looking back or having regrets.

"You ready to go, sis?" Aether asked.

He was already out of the cottage, stretching and keeping an eye on Solstice. His sword is in his right hand, swinging it a few times skillfully.

"I hope we find a nice world where we can celebrate Solstice's 6th birthday." He continues.

His aureate gaze focused on his baby sibling for a moment. She was completely enraptured by the rattle, which was glowing brighter than usual.

Aether returns his attention to Lumine, who was almost done checking. The tinkling sounds from the rattle fills the silence as he waits for his twin sister, just a tad impatiently.

Lumine walks out of the cottage, closing the door on her way out. She points the hilt of her sword towards her brother so he could take it. Last time, he carried Solstice; so this time, it will be her turn. Their sibling is a growing girl, and they needed both arms to carry her safely. They take no chances until her own wings could sprout, which might be soon.

Suddenly, there was a heavy silence.

Aether arches his eyebrow, looking over his shoulder as the incessant chimes had stopped. He wants to ask Solstice what was wrong, but he was interrupted by another shockwave. This time, it was way closer and filled him with wordless dread due to its catalyst. He heard Lumine exclaim something in alarm and distress.

Solstice had broken the relic's seal.

Horrified, both twins urgently reached out for their little sister. The Elders warned them that the seal should never be lifted prematurely, so they had implemented a failsafe for it. How did such a young girl like Solstice break it? Nobody knew what to expect. Most assume what would occur is nothing short of disastrous. They were so utterly terrified because they could not survive the thought of losing their sister, not now and not ever.

Alas, it was practically inevitable.

Because when the shockwave had passed, Solstice was undeniably already gone.

『 Venus sets ablaze 』

The first year of Solstice's life was spent sleeping in Cosmogenesis, as expected.

Just like any other Outlander, it was spent gathering enough energy to sustain herself. During this time, the twins stayed by her side and comforted the newborn in her sleep. They had told her all about the worlds they visited, and how they wanted to find "home" together with their new baby sister. It was a moment filled with innocence and warmth.

The first year of Solstice's life was also dark and admittedly dull. Dark, because she was not able to witness anything with her own eyes yet; and dull, because she could not do anything at all. The only thing she felt was the energy flowing inside of her, making her whole—as if she was a doll slowly being put together by an expert craftsman. It honestly felt peculiar, but also warm and comfortable. Perhaps, that was because Aether and Lumine were always by her side to keep the loneliness at bay. They had always assured she was kept healthy and secure.

Currently, Solstice is experiencing something similar yet also something different.

There was an immense amount of energy flowing inside of her and then back outside. It was like she acted as a medium in a cycling network. The clinical process lacked the familiar warmth and comfort from Cosmogenesis. However, it was not entirely unpleasant...but more so disorienting and confusing. This is new and unknown to her so she felt the need to be a little cautious despite her curiosity. Her siblings taught her to always practice that balanced mindset.

Solstice wondered if she was dreaming again. There are times when things took too much energy from her, so she would fall into a deep slumber. Still, there is a nagging at the back of her mind that tells her this time would be different.

Then, she gains an astonishing epiphany.

Usually, her Primo Stella rattle would give her energy in the form of mana. This time, it takes from her in a way that it was channeling her power. The star had synchronized with her will, especially her memories and her dreams, to create something. She had no idea what it could be but she wanted to see.

Ten years pass and at last—

on the eve of Solstice's 16th birthday,

TEYVAT was fully created.

As midnight struck and the day arose, Solstice has reached full maturity as an Outlander. Her power lets out a final surge across the new land. This celestial phenomenon created three realms coexisting in harmony, welcoming yet untouchable.

When dawn settles over Teyvat,

Solstice finally opens her eyes

for the first time in ten years.

『 Welcome us with your light 』

#genshin impact #꧁cσηsтεℓℓαтιση sαgα꧂#꧁cσηsтεℓℓαтιση gεηεsιs꧂#collab fic #genshin sagau #genshin cult au #sagau #cult au #reverse harem #prologue #fem!oc protagonist #genshin impact fanfics

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ficnation · 10 months

Text

Chapter 1: A Delightful Encounter

Series: “The Heart Wants What It Wants”

Word count: 1,0k+

Pairing: Angel Reyes x Female! Baker! Reader

Warnings: none

A/n: I had so much fun writing this! All chapters will be around 1k or 2k words. This is also my first entry to @the-slumberparty Bingo Card event (prompt: writer’s choice - first meeting)! Events Masterlist

Let me know your thoughts and please reblog.

Main Masterlist

Mayans MC Masterlist

NEXT CHAPTER

Angel enters the new bakery, his boots making a slight thud as he crosses the wooden floor. His eyes take in the cozy atmosphere and the pale green hue of the walls while the mouth-watering scents of baking bread and pastries tickle his nostrils. The interior is inviting, and the various tables and chairs in the central area provide a comfortable spot to sit and enjoy one's treats. He can’t help but feel slightly out of place. He sticks out like a sore thumb in his leather kutte and body decorated by tattoos.

He takes a moment to appreciate the homey vibe of his surroundings before heading toward the counter. He gazes at the array of baked goods, hypnotized by the view of colorful muffins, cakes, fresh golden buns, and loaves of bread.

The person working behind the counter greets him in a friendly tone adorned by a pinch of shyness. The man in the leather kutte, his face obscured by the chunky dark sunglasses, merely nods in reply and gives a small wave. He feels the employe observing him as he tries to decide what to purchase.

Felipe sent him over early in the morning to get some freshly baked bread for breakfast. It was barely eight, and he’d give everything to be back in his bed, snoring away. His eyes were closing up on the ride here, but the smells of the bakery woke him up in seconds.

Angel quickly peruses the selection of baked goods, his hand striding over the glass display case but not touching its surface. His gaze lands on a shiny, golden-brown loaf of bread, and his eyes light up.

He looks back at the person behind the counter and nods once more, pointing toward the product before his brain finally registers the vision before him. He freezes in his spot, brown orbs glued to your delicate silhouette as you lean down to reach inside the display.

You’re breathtakingly beautiful, standing there with a friendly smile, your eyes shining and dark eyelashes fluttering with every blink. Your hair is braided and thrown over your shoulder, the soft tresses swaying delicately against it with every movement. It’s as if every part of you is a work of art meant to be admired and appreciated. And as you continue to smile at Angel, he can’t help but be enthralled by your grace. You don’t even seem to be bothered by the early hour—there’s absolutely no trace of dark circles under your eyes.

You take out the loaf of bread, wrapping it quickly in a dark green wax cloth. The man keeps staring as you nudge it toward him and state the price. He takes out his wallet and fumbles with it for a minute before he finally manages to find the 10$ bill and hands it to you.

You take his ten dollars, put it in the register, and then place his change on the counter. His heart does a backflip as you part your lips to speak up. They seem so soft and plump. “Here you go, sir. Your change,” you say, pointing towards the stack of bills and coins.

“Nah, it’s fine. Keep it as a tip,” he replies, waving you off as he slides the change back to you, only taking the wrapped-up bread from the wooden surface.

You look surprised but insist, “Sir, you gave me too much. It’s too much just for a loaf of bread.” He can tell you have a good heart.

Angel thinks for a moment, then grins wildly, no ounce of hesitation left. “Not just for the bread. It’s for your great service.”

You’re flustered, your cheeks getting warmer with every passing moment—with every playful quirk of his lips. The man isn’t giving in as he flashes you another charming smile. You’re speechless. There was no point in resisting even though you didn’t think you did much that could be considered “great service”. You just smiled and served him his purchase; you do it all the time.

The corner of your peach-colored lips quirks up shyly as you finally nod your head in thanks. You take out one fluffy blueberry muffin from the display and place it on the counter in front of him. “Consider it a token of my appreciation then.”

A beat of silence falls between the two of you as you stare at each other, enjoying the light tension that sends sparks down your body. The man is almost beaming with pride at his own charm, while you’re wondering what lies beneath those dark shades. The fact that you can’t see his eyes is infuriating—eyes are the window to the soul, after all. Just when you manage to regain your composure, he speaks up again.

“Tell you what,” Angel says, his voice low and confident. “I’d love to stop by again, just to see your smile.”

You give him exactly what he wants as you smile brightly at his words, feeling your cheeks flush with heat even more—you didn’t even think it was possible. “Of course, you’re welcome here any time,” you reply.

The man nods happily. “Great,” he says, a grin stretching across his face. “I’ll be sure to stop by often. I’m a sucker for delicious pastries and beautiful smiles.”

You’re taken aback by his words but appreciate the kindness. A warm, happy feeling bubbles within you—a feeling you haven’t felt in a long time. You are surprised that a man like him—the complete opposite of what you were usually looking for in a romantic partner—can make you feel weak in the knees by such a brief interaction.

“And I’d be thrilled to have you stop by again,” you stammer out, finding yourself lost in the pull of his presence. There’s a sparkle of excitement in your voice that only fuels his smugness.

The man chuckles, unable to hide his delight, as he turns around and starts walking toward the exit. When he reaches for the door handle, you quickly lean over the counter and call out to him. He turns around, surprise painted on his face, and you’re just as taken aback as he is at your sudden holler.

“What’s your name?” you ask, tapping your fingers on the wooden surface in anticipation. It’s new to you, breaking the barriers of your shyness for someone you just met, but it feels so right.

The stranger lifts up his sunglasses to his forehead for a second, looking you up and down. You’re instantly mesmerized by the rich brown color of his eyes. You feel them luring you in—hypnotizing you. You’re surprised you're even able to catch the words that leave his mouth.

“Angel,” he replies, setting the sunglasses back on his nose. You already find yourself missing his gaze on your person. “Take care of yourself, dulce.”

Taglist: @danzer8705

#angel reyes x reader #angel reyes x you #angel reyes fic #angel reyes x female reader #angel reyes imagines #angel reyes #Mayans MC #mayans #mayansmc #writing challenge #the slumber party #the slumber party's bingo event

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sushistyless · 1 year

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mist.

Rain can be a hassle to Harry especially because he’s always late. But when dark and stormy nights lead to finding someone a bit special, he has to admit, he’s forever grateful for the dark clouds.

(writer harry, fluffy & rainy stuff, 6k+)

my masterlist.

————

Harry always had a bit of a problem with being on time.

Usually, it was his day dreaming tendencies that conveniently forced the clock to tick out of his head, drowning the noise of the outside world and opting for the vivid, lively & observant fashion he lived with in books. The entirety of each minute spent in those worlds, being in some way or another -- a moment he would dream about later.

Most of his life was filled within his own thoughts & feelings, a curiosity stemming in the depths of his mind. And ever since he could remember, he'd been this way.

Much of his teenage life and childhood was spent in the city, the daily ways of hustle bustle following each moment. He loved staying there and is grateful for the opportunities he got — don't get him wrong! — but... he craved to have a life where things weren't as overwhelming. He wouldn't say he's shy, but he liked being in his own company, an affinity to observe the intricacies of the world and the different realms of literature rather than soaking up the role of the main character on centre stage.

He always preferred the quiet, and leaned towards the introverted, solitary life. And his job as a writer suited him pretty well, he'd say. Working from home, he didn't really have any events he could formally be late to, which is why it wasn't the biggest concern to him. With a ton of pent up creativity, he found writing (and painting too, sometimes) to be a wonderful medium for him to pour out all that jazz.

His first 'inspiration' for a lifestyle that 'called out' to him was when he was quite young. He remembers his mum taking him to a small village near the hills, and how his seven year old self was utterly enthralled by the beauty and charm of the place.

"Mum! Look!" he had said, scampering around in the fields while running behind a yellow butterfly, committing each curve of its wings to his memory, with pure ecstasy fluttering through the soreness of his cheeks as a result of a smile grown so wide. His mum was amused to see the joy that radiated off him– an amount she'd never seen before.

Later that night, after he'd finally (and very reluctantly) agreed to leave the fields, she'd tucked him into bed, warmth coursing through his veins under the cuddly comforter. She whispered, telling him to never lose that spark in him. He merely responded in a soft, dreamy tone, giving her a lazy smile when met with a kiss on his forehead, "I-it's just, everything's so pretty here! Don't y'think? Jus' wanna stay here forever.''

"Yes, Harry," she laughed, in awe of her son with a gleaming sparkle in his eyes, "And maybe one day you can live some place like this, alright? But for now, sleep, sweetheart."

And he had eagerly nodded his head.

Now, it was only fitting that Harry had bought a cottage in the countryside near the foothills of a little town a few miles away from the city. And suffice to say, he lived a happy life, with inspiration seeping into each flower that grew out in the garden in front of his little cottage, blooming with vibrantly coloured flowers, and in the sunset that came each evening. Dusk, in-fact, was the most pretty sight he'd seen in his entire life he thinks. No complaints, he said when having literal cumulus clouds floating around with rays of sunshine peeking through them, almost making the scene seem scrapped right out of a renaissance painting — the only lost elements being the angels hiding behind them (and, yes, he had actually painted that too).

Love also manifested from his creative side often resulting in tons of hand drawn pictures of different varieties of butterflies and plants pinned to the walls inside his home.

Harry's life was his muse, so each time he sat to write, the words just spilled right out his heart onto the parchment, staining it in perfect handwriting.

(—Or, in a less 'aesthetic' way, mostly his hands typing away rather fast on the keys of his laptop, periodically pushing his glasses from sliding down his nose, but hey, same effect!—.)

He eventually did start writing books and many collections of poetry, so he did struggle with deadlines from time to time, but it wasn't that bad. It wasn't very bad because it didn't require his presence, he thinks, but it still required some time management. And he promises he's getting better at it.

But... we can still say that Harry had a bit of a problem with being on time.

He'd been standing in a little library located farther down the trail from his house (he still grins like an idiot at the thought of having his very own house), that stood on a street lined with shops and cafés. The scent of old books swilled in the air, vintage posters and dark rows of shelves matching the aesthetic of wooden floors and rustic trinkets hung up on the dusky-coloured walls. His fingers picked at the edges of the pages of the book, his third time reading magic through the eyes of The Little Prince.

He'd gotten only a little bit lost in it, his ring clad hand absently lifting the cup of matcha he had previously ordered on-the-go, bringing it to his lips and titling it forward, only to taste just a single drop of flavoured residue and realise that it was empty from the periodic sips he had taken with each flick and turn of a page.

Oh, he thought to himself and frowned. He hadn't realised that he finished it that fast. With a finger wedged between the closed book so as to not lose the page and cup squashed in the same arm, he fiddled to reach out to the vintage field bag slinging over his shoulder.

Finally, through the dishevelled strands of hair obstructing his vision, he managed to open the bag and get a hold of his phone from inside it. Switching it on, he pondered. It couldn't have been that long. Alas, when the screen lit up showing highlighted numbers of 7:28 pm, well, he was shocked (and glad there wasn't any matcha in his mouth, for he would have most definitely spit it out).

And, it hit him that he was late.

It wasn't much of a surprise that he would overstay past his intended time here in the library. But today was an important day.

He had ordered a record player a few months back and he was fluttering on the inside with a little spark. He'd counted down the days until it would arrive, smiling wide as he crossed down each day approaching it, and promised himself early this morning that he'd come and read only for a little bit, then easily go home before 7 pm so he would be there when the precious package was delivered.

Music was a big part of his life, of course. It helped him write, helped him imagine. Helped to dream a little more. And maybe he could even go as far as to say it was like fuel to him. The idea of his suited songs played on the vinyl was enough to excite him.

With widened eyes, he quickly shoved the phone back in, then flustered, taking steps towards the door. He was excited– sure, but he couldn't help and felt a little more doubtful and wary of the delicate player being properly delivered than gently held in his safe arms. It was expensive to say the least (top of the line and yada yada) and although it wasn't his yet, he already deemed it to be his precious possession.

On a normal day, warm, slanted rays of the sun would reflect on his face through the glass windows as he stepped from behind the cover of the thick shelves– but today was gloomy. A thick, dark blanket of clouds was spread across the sky, leaving no place for sunlight to pass through.

With having completed the satisfaction of saying a goodbye! to the store owner — Miss Akane, a kind and eccentric old woman who Harry had gotten quite close to after tasting a lot of her homemade sweets — he strode towards the door, skillfully pushing it open against the windy, mildly chilly air.

And that was when Harry realised that he really needed to hurry.

It was true when he thought today was going to be a rainy day. It'd be only a matter of a few seconds before the scent of wet mud would linger in the air. He walked quickly on the trail towards the mountain side, relaying one last glance to the line of shops. Harry usually caught sight of a few people walking down the street but it seems as though everyone knows that the weather is going to be stormy. He'd grown accustomed to the view by now, having moved to the countryside just a few years prior.

The fitted burgundy coloured chequered pants covering his legs, flared and shifted tightly against his calves, while his torso carried a very lovely sage-green vest, all bundled along with his bookbag tucked underneath his overcoat, effectively shielding him and his possessions from the heavy breeze and potential rain.

As he saw the soil being gradually dotted with raindrops and the plants around him weighing down with the trickling water, he knew it was even more important to reach home fast.

——-

Harry's footsteps become more sunken, the trail having become mucky and threateningly prone to little puddles as he nears his cottage. The rain races with increased velocity, the sound of it hitting the ground and rumbles of thunder providing a soundtrack to the activities and errands of his current life.

Harry reaches close to home, and he had initially thought he would rush in and worry himself, examining the much awaited wet box, because the past few deliveries he had got weren't very considerately delivered. He thought it would be sitting out, left in the harsh rain.

But really, he's confused.

He brings up his hand, the tip of his finger swiping out a drop of rain that clung to his eyelash, already squinted eyes straining even more as if to make sure what he saw through the rain was reality.

Instead of seeing a drenched parcel, he finds someone sitting on his partially covered porch, her hazy gaze fixed on the entwined hands in her lap. The light, pastel amethyst coloured shirt she's wearing grows the slightest bit transparent — not entirely soaking through, but sleeves wet enough to loosely cling onto her body — the expanse covering her torso accentuating her collarbone region. Her hair sticks to the side of her forehead, cheekbones glistening under the influence of the rain. Eyelashes frame her profile from the view he's provided with, cheeks seeming hollow like she bites down on them. A coat is draped over some large box on the right, evidently wanting to keep whatever it was dry.

She certainly doesn't seem like a delivery person, the lack of a uniform making it clear that a courier was not what she was, only adding to Harry's confusion.

Hm?

The little shade up front does little to barricade the rain as it slants towards her, the entire scene looking like her mere presence was magnetic to the forces of nature.

The ideas of why she was here and what his reply would be start noting through his head like pieces of paper being crumpled with each possibility that came up, clearly hesitant in the conversation that he already started in his head. Licking his lips, he readies himself to speak. What should he say?— the lack of socialising with new people peeking through the flurry of jumbled words projecting in his mind.

He gulps, moving closer until he's at a good distance from her, pace slowing down distinctively as his heels dig into the soft ground below. Finally, he musters up the courage to speak, inhaling and exhaling before flicking off a chocolate coloured curl that weighed onto his face, curtaining his vision. "H-hi."

The girl's figure immediately perks up, a sharp intake of breath drawn past her lips, clearly taken by surprise as her face snaps up to him. Her irises have a wild essence in them, widening as they meet his own & flickering around, taking in his features before spewing words of her own, "Oh! Hi."

She clears her throat, posture now becoming straighter, her right hand comes up to toy with a crystal pendant adorning her neck. "Uh," she flustered innocently, confused while forming her question, "Do you live here?" Her body turns completely towards her right, eyes effectively focused on the door of the cottage, giving Harry an obvious reference. Her voice is low & fragile, with woven delicacy as if she's afraid that if she gets louder, it might break glass. Harry's sure that if it was any softer, it would've been completely muted out by the echoing roars of the colliding clouds.

Harry's eyes follow her line of sight, nodding his head at her questioning, "I... I do, yes. Can I help y'with something?" He adds on in the end with sincerity & curiosity edging his tone, still comprehending her sweet voice and sudden presence. He hardly got guests, and if he did, they were mostly his family flying out on occasions to see him. But they too dropped in once in a blue moon. He was, let's just say, deep within an area of solitude. So he was more than shocked when he found someone he'd never known quite literally sitting at his doorstep.

There's a moment of silence in their conversation, giving Harry's gaze enough time to wander off & examine the object placed beside her. The jacket had ridden up at the side, a tiny sliver of the picture plastered over the box making his eyebrows knit the slightest bit.

The girl, whose eyes are mostly just fixated on Harry, immediately notices and clicks out of the dazed dream as she fumbles through the blurry rain, "Oh, right!"

Harry observes as she peeps out, standing to her height, hands already beginning to unveil the surprise under the full of her jacket, which's outer surface is glistening with the water, while the inner remains dry.

"I think... this is yours?" Her voice tilts in pitch nearing the end of her sentence, questioning him with unknown facts once Harry's eyes land on a package with a familiar picture stamped on.

He remembers the same photograph that was displayed on the online site he ordered his turntable from, a light beige colour coating the artistic marvel. With the stickered details of his address pinned up top, the edges of the box had become a little moist and worn out, but overall in good condition.

His features contort to realisation, "Oh— oh, yeah! Thank you s'much." He says with a heart full of gratitude & sudden confusion, stepping closer to finally land on the wooden shaft of the porch and scurry beside her.

She sheepishly nods at the acknowledgement, busying herself to pick it up, the box seeming entirely too large for her arms to hold. Harry quickly swoops in while giving her a soft, grateful look, enough to not evade her personal bubble, but assist her as he quickly supports it from the other side. Her lips tug slightly at the edges, the moment giving her time to take in the ringlets of hair that stick to his forehead and making her smile subconsciously grow the tiniest bit wider as he retrieves it completely.

"I was actually just passing by here when the delivery guy happened to catch me, and assumed that I lived here. I tried to tell him— really — but he was in a rush and he... just kept it and left," she rambles, managing to sneak a quiet smile in there, the cold shaft of wind making her shudder for a moment.

There's a moment of hesitancy, the slightest second of silence wallowing in the air as she collects her words and gathers to deliver him information that might ease his apparent confusion.

"I didn't want to leave it like that 'cause it seemed pretty important. I knocked again but nobody answered, so I only stayed to make sure it was alright until someone came by." Her voice decreases in amplitude as her sentence progresses, speaking shyly as her irises stutter on Harry's frame for a second too long. Explaining the entire situation to the best of her abilities while still tripping over her sentences, Harry offers no response because, well...

What the fuck?

Harry is... at a loss for words, to put it simply.

She did all that? For a simple parcel? For him?

Initially, he'd thought she was waiting there for some help she might need. Then again, everything that had happened was all a jumbled mess in his head — the thoughts in his mind unclear to himself. He didn't know what he was expecting when he arrived and saw her in the first place.

But, she was just so sweet. The entire thought was so incredibly kind, and— it just swelled his heart with so much joy and gratitude. A lot of people have helped him throughout his life, but nobody has ever been this sweet or innocently considerate. He's just on cloud nine with the idea of being worthy of all that, with no part of his brain telling him how to react.

He thinks that among the pouring rain and rumbling chaos, he had the honour of encountering a literal angel.

When he doesn't respond immediately, worry quickly fills her eyes, "I-I'm sorry if it's not what I should've done, I just thought..."

"No, no! Not at all! I jus—" He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, dissipating her worries as she visibly releases a breath. Adoration swimming through his irises, a butterfly induced feeling fills his tummy when he catches her wistful gaze drifting into the window of his soul.

The rain danced like spray, buzzing off the wooden roof & echoing through his ears, the sound of some drops sharper than the other- growing clearer and heavier by the second like the rhythm of his heart. The wind murmured to the trees, a whirring accompanying the puddles that began to plink with the hammering intensity of the rain, almost pleading him to say something— anything.

"That's just s'sweet of you. Thank you so much. You didn't have to do that, but y'did. And 'm so, so sorry I made y'wait out here..."

He is filled with gratitude but he also feels terribly guilty. It was because of him that she had to wait out for so long. It was chilly out and to be sitting out for that long under the icy weather, a sniffle would surely rift into a full blown cold. It's now that he notices the goosebumps trailed along her skin as she crosses both her arms in front of her chest in an effort to keep warm.

"No, don't worry! It's– it's okay. Really." She spares maybe a second of full eye contact with him, giving him a soft smile on catching the praises before casting off her gaze, focusing on the mucky shoes covering her feet as the droplets trickling off it caught the light. "The rain's quite pretty anyway."

Harry offers her an easy (but still regretful) smile at that. It was nice of her to try and console him even through small sentences.

"And... you like vinyls?" she converses curiously once her hands are free again, standing still with her fingers intertwined in her front once again. Harry can't help but wonder if it's a nervous tick she has, and he also can't help but smile a little at the thought, cherishing how he does the same sometimes.

"Yeah, jus' have some kind of charm, y'know?" The words just slip through his mouth like he's talking to himself, stifling his beam as his face drops to face the ground for a second, the faintest dimples indenting the apple of his cheeks and a simmer of warmth reaching them as he gives it his best to not crack into a fit of smiles. "Do y'like 'em?" He looks back at her.

The attempt at making his excitement subdued instils a kind of joy across her face, a honey swept tone coating her words as she replies, "Oh, yeah! Been wanting to get one for myself actually, but they're pretty expensive. Promise I wasn't stealing yours though." She chuckles a little easier now, knuckling at her eyes as a drop of water seems to latch onto her eyelid.

"I believe you. And trus' me, I've been saving up for it for months now, so y'not alone." He reciprocates her laugh, keeping it casual, but his mind internally goes through a shot of excitement.

"It's no–" she starts, a loud streak of thunder rumbling much too loud, cutting off the conversation as her widened eyes flit off to wander in the distance. Harry mimics her actions, the noise enough to demand anyone's attention. Her lips part at the loud sound, teeth digging into the plushy lower one, while the thinnest crease of worry lines her forehead. "But, um, I think I should probably head back now. The rain is only getting worse..."

It's now Harry's turn to worry, concerned because the last thing he could ever want for anyone is to walk back during a growling, full-blown thunderstorm. "Are y'sure? You're most welcome to come in..." he trails off, feet trudging against the cold floorboard as he shuffles towards the door, "It looks pretty bad out there. Y'can wait here until it calms down— only if you're comfortable, of course." He adds the last part quickly, speaks with sincerity- a genuine request on his part. And honestly, it's the least he can do. He knows that it was after all, her choice to wait here, but he still feels shitty knowing that he could have reached earlier and avoided her from all this trouble.

Her gaze is still downcast, an expression emulating the ghost of a smile, seeming like she's mulling over the options in her head, while her hands work to wriggle the coat back on her shoulders. "Oh no, it's fine! I love looking at the interior of houses —" she looks back at him with a breathy smile and a bit of hope arises in Harry, wishing she'd say yes so he would have some company- even if it was only for some time. She continues, "— But I really don't mean to intrude. Thank you though," she continues with a soft gaze, an apologetic undertone lacing her words.

His heart deflates when she declines his offer, the slight tug of his lips dulling only the slightest bit, yet understanding that it was her choice based on what she felt would be safe for her, but he hates to think that she'd feel like a burden if she were to stay.

"Please, you won't be intruding in the slightest. Honestly, s'the least I can do. Please feel free to come in, it's no trouble at all. Again, I'm so, so sorry." All he really hoped was that he could spend even a little time with her because he knew there was a possibility that he would likely never meet her again. But, if she felt it was safer to go her own way, he would respect that, of course, and just continue to think back to the small conversation they once had.

She laughs a little louder now, surprisingly to Harry as if enthralled by the amount of gratefulness and (un)necessary apologies he smothers her with, "Hey," she whispers, "I waited here voluntarily, so you really don't need to apologise."

His internal sorrow evades a bit when she makes an effort to lighten his mood, the tiniest blush threatening to creep up his cheeks.

"I know, 'm sorry—"

"Oops, there you go again."

"—Shit. I promise, I didn't mean to. I'm so so—"

"Sorry?" She completes for him, grinning like Harry's done the cutest thing and in fact– giggles. Proper giggles.

Can you believe that?

And if Harry couldn't take his mind off her presence, he surely can't now, wondering what he's done to have the honour of hearing the sound bless his ears. It's pouring, raining like cats and dogs, but this conversation takes him to a place of happiness where he imagines the sun would shine with the warmest, most yellow & buttery orange tinged glow. He just met her for stars' sake— he doesn't even know her name! But... he knows that he likes being the reason she laughs. He likes making people laugh in general, some kind of satisfaction hiding deep in his own smile when they break into laughter, but he reckons she was just much sweeter to witness.

Agh. He's such a sap, he knows... but he still means every word. Besides, it's in the safety of his mind, it's okay.

"Yeah... that." He bites his lip, hoping she wouldn't catch him avoiding her gaze. "Y'sure you'll be okay?"

"I'll be okay," she hums low, words drowning in the sound of the thunder as it penetrates through the grey clouds once again. Buttoning up the most part of her coat and descending down the porch, she shoots him a smile, a small 'bye!' accompanying her actions of waving at him.

"Bye! Please be careful!" he adds on. It felt strange. He didn't want to say goodbye. The conversation hadn't for a minute felt forced and it's... something he hasn't experienced in a long time. He wished it would last longer.

"I will, thank you! It was really nice meeting you!" He watches as her figure teeters down the clearing that led to his house, looking back at him from over her shoulders.

"You too," Harry mutters, a smile taunting his lips at the sight of her doing the same all while prancing about in the rain. But as she leaves his line of sight, he wonders. Would they ever even meet again? A sigh escapes through his mouth, the slopes of his shoulders softening with a pout that stretches across his face. And oh, he even forgot to ask her her name. It was too late to do that now. It'd just be plain weird if he ran out in the rain and startled her for a silly question.

So he's a bit bummed. Still, he's glad that he even had the chance to encounter her.

Turning around with bitten lips after successfully manoeuvring the package so he could hold it comfortably in one arm, he shuffled to reach for his key, pulling it out and swiftly unlocking the door. As soon as he steps in, his senses are waded through by the pillowy warmth of his house, lofting with the homely smell of cinnamon and vanilla. It's nice to be able to come to such a lovely home everyday, and he's so grateful for that. Water drops drip down his clothes, pit-pattering against the wooden floors. A thud noise resonates through the room as he shuts the door, the cold ruffles of wind effectively shut out while keeping the toasty atmosphere inside undisturbed. A little fireplace decorates the corner of the generously sized living room, green plants sitting across the window panes that are curated with occasional flowers here and there. The sheer curtains don't do much to cover the view of the rustic French windows, earthly tears trickling down the glass as he gazes through the fluid stillness upon the field outside– the one that's usually bright and green but now runs dark & deep with water, the attire of raindrops looking like serrations of lines cutting through the wind.

He's quick to discard his drenched coat, opting to hang it on the hook beside the dark ocher coloured console that stands in the foyer-like entryway, carefully placing the box on the cabinet. Littered throughout the pastel coloured walls were various delicately framed paintings– most of which he had made, and some being his versions of the works of Van Gogh (big fan he was)-- all very special, having given him some kind of inspiration to write in the past.

Running a heavy hand through his hair, he shook his head, the rebellious drops of water splattering into the air. Stumbling to the middle of the room, he all but threw himself on the feathery hold of his couch. Melting into the softness instantly, his posture relaxes, as the brown of his bag- a stark contrast to the beige of the couch lands with a splat beside him. Eyes closing ceremoniously once his head rests on the top of the couch, the pad of his fingers rub the inner corners of his eyelids. Realising he has contacts on, he frowns and stops, also thanking his past self for wearing contacts– the rain would've just fogged up his glasses and he preferred to know where he was walking. Plus, he would've not seen her very properly and that indeed would've been a pity.

Deciding that the itchiness was probably a sign for him to remove his contacts, he lifts himself off the couch and makes his way towards the bathroom.

It's just as Harry's removed his first lens that he jolts at the sound of the doorbell. With half blurry vision, all the more confusion sparkling through his veins and messier-than-ever-hair, his lips part. A second later he scurries to the front door. Opening it up the slightest, he swears his heart drops to his stomach. He can't see all that well but when the familiar voice calls out to him again, he can't help but smile at the knowledge of who it is.

"Is that offer of yours still up?"

Harry's never been happier for having a problem with time, and greeting a kind girl at his front door through blurry vision and unruly hair.

————

"Have you really made all of these paintings? They're... beautiful." It makes Harry's heart hurt at the enthusiasm Y/N shows for something he does. That's another he's learned, the sweet girl's name is Y/N. It suits her really well, he realises.

"Yeah, s'all me," he shyly smiles, setting the mug of chamomile tea down on the centre table in front of her. She's sat on his couch, a blanket wrapped around her form to keep extra toasty although she'd declined the offer in favour of the room already being warm enough. But Harry had insisted and pulled out his favourite, fluffiest blanket.

"More than beautiful actually, they're just— you're really talented." She gushes, shifting her gaze from the acrylic pieces hung on the wall to the tea now placed in front of her, accompanied with a soft whisper of an oh, thank you.

"'M glad you think so." His stifled smile stretches wider on his cheeks, little indents beginning to form a dip in them, "I think, art is just so fun to do. Being able to express yourself in paintings, music, film, and of course, writing. Words are so incredible." His voice considerably lowers as he progresses, realising how he's started to rant a bit.

"Oh," Y/N gazed at him fondly, amusement tinting her eyes, "So, I've somehow managed to stumble in the home of a young, mysterious artist - in the middle of the fields - while there's a beautiful storm raging outside, then?"

"You make me sound way cooler than I am," he laughs silently, fiddling with his rings, "that is a cute idea for a novel though."

"It is cool. Maybe I'll become a writer one day just to write about this."

"I'll join you. Co-writers we'll be," he gleamed at her, the hidden knowledge that he could very well begin plotting a novel at this very moment shucked to the back of his head.

"That would be perfect."

—————

The storm brewed the entire night but eased off by early morning, the night spent with soft words exchanged, and conversations that flowed like the streams of rivers outside. Harry swears he felt genuinely the happiest he had felt in a while.

He also would admit that he quite enjoyed when just before Y/N left, he revealed he was a writer himself. She blushed, jaw dropped because she had been prattling on and expanding on the 'Mysterious Artist in The Mountains' arc, in a pretty... amateur way she had said.

"Well," she giggled, trying to hold a serious face, "Mr. Styles, I shall take your leave. Now that I am presented with the information that you are a wonderful writer by profession, I expect thy to write some poetry about me the next time we meet."

"You should certainly expect it," he played along, bowing to her slightly.

"God, no, I'm joking," she laughed back, "but it really was nice to meet you, Harry. Thank you for everything." Gathering her belongings in one arm, she moved to stand at the threshold of the front door, Harry's presence following behind her.

She was just so sweet, Harry thought. Her smile bought with it something so honey like, a warm ray of light engulfing the room— and the sparkle in her eyes, kindness. She was beautiful too. The kind of beauty that wasn’t so conventional, more so the beauty that came with love that you simply had to have grown in with each second spent together.

"T'was a pleasure meeting you too, m'lady." He continued, a sweet smile still coating his face as he guided her out. (And although she was joking about the poetry, Harry had begun thinking of the same idea before she even proposed it.) Y/N simply reciprocated his expression, silence between them while the birds chirped in the back now that the rain had cleared out.

"Hope to meet you again… soon." She added quickly in the end and looked up to him with a glee in her eyes, speaking softly, “Bye, Harry."

A sense of déjà vu took over as he remembered the scene similar to the one he experienced a few hours back.

"Take care, love," he said, beaming when he saw her walk down the porch and look over her shoulder, excited for when they’d plan to spend more time together.

Except this time, he would happily declare that he knew her name too.

————

SOO, here is writer harry!! honestly, I started out with this piece like months ago and only finished it recently lmsiehdsjhs and I wasn’t sure if I should post it, but here we gooo :(( very soft vibes, I think. writer h is just like that.

thank you ever so much for reading :(( I really really hope you enjoyed!! <333

read more of my work on my masterlist! see you on the other side ;)

#maybe I’ll follow up with a part 2???#also the ending seems so half assed I’m sorry sheushjs #anyway just thank you SOOO much for reading :(#my writing #Harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #Harry styles x reader #Harry styles x yn #Harry styles fluff #writer harry styles #artist Harry styles #Harry styles blurb #soft harry #harry fluff #sushistyless #mist #strangers to lovers

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homomenhommes · 25 days

Text

THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … May 14

1853 – Thomas Henry Hall Caine, British journalist, theatre crtic, author, poet, and playwright is born. As a novelist, Hall Caine was immensely popular in his own time but almost completely forgotten today.

Diminutive and slight as a man in his time, he is rather impossible to read today, his language so stilted, plots so melodramatic as to be rendered unintentionally hilarious.

Caine’s novel The Deemster (1887) resets the biblical David and Jonathan story in contemporary England. The chapter called “Passing the Love of Women” is of particular interest, not only for its significant title, but for its Victorian heavy breathing thought to stimulate men in love. Its pages fairly flicker like a silent movie melodrama.

His friendship with and his time spent as roommate with Dante Gabriel Rosetti may have been an inspiration for the novel.

He wrote more than 20 novels and a similar number of plays. Many of his novels were turned into silent black and white films.

1883 – On this date America's foremost female impersonator was born as Julian Eltinge in Newtonville, Massachusetts (d.1941). Eltinge was a stage and silent film star with few realizing he was actually a man.

After appearing in the Boston Cadets Revue at the age of ten in feminine garb, Eltinge made his first appearance on Broadway in 1904 in the musical comedy "Mr. Wix of Wickham" which opened in 1904 at the Bijou Theatre in New York City. The show included music by Jerome Kern among others.

Eltinge did not present a caricature of women but presented the illusion of actually being a woman. He toured simply as "Eltinge" which left his sex unknown and his act included singing and dancing in a variety of female roles. At the conclusion of his performances, he would remove his wig, revealing his true nature to the surprise of the often unknowing audience.

As Eltinge's star began to rise, he toured Europe and the United States even giving a command performance before King Edward VII.

Eltinge appeared in a series of musical comedies written specifically for his talents starting in 1910 with "The Fascinating Widow," and returned to vaudeville in 1918. Eltinge's name became known worldwide, and women were so enthralled by his performances that he established the Eltinge Magazine which advised women on beauty, fashion, and home tips.

In 1917 he appeared in his first feature film, "The Countess Charming." This would lead to other films including 1918's "The Isle of Love" with Rudolph Valentino. He was considered one of the highest paid actors on the American stage but with the arrival of the Great Depression and the death of vaudeville, Eltinge's star began to fade. He continued his show in nightclubs but found little success, he died in 1941 following a show at a New York nightclub.

The EltingeTheatre named for him is still standing on 42nd Street, or at least the facade is. If you go into the Multiplex on the south side of the building, there is a fresco on the ceiling, which is just about all that remains of his theatre.

In Buster Keaton's comedy, Seven Chances, Keaton's character is expected to find a bride by the end of the day or lose his inheritance. At one point, he goes into the stage door of the Eltinge Theatre and comes out having had his face slapped. Few modern audiences realize that Keaton has just proposed to a drag queen. Audiences of the day, however, probably got the joke.

1897 – The Scientific-Humanitarian Committee (Wissenschaftlich-humanitäres Komitee, WhK) was founded in Berlin on the 14th or 15th of May, 1897, to campaign for social recognition of homosexual and transgender men and women, and against their legal persecution. It was the first such organization in history. It produced the Jahrbuch für sexuelle Zwischenstufen (Yearbook for Intermediate Sexual Types). This, as well as reporting the committee's activities, carried articles of scientific, polemical and literary natures. It was publish regularly from 1899 to 1923 (sometimes even quarterly) and more sporadically until 1933.

The initial focus of the WhK was Paragraph 175 of the Imperial Penal Code, which criminalized "coitus-like" acts between males — the WhK assisted defendants in criminal trials, conducted public lectures, and gathered signatures on a petition for the repeal of the law. Signatories included Albert Einstein, Hermann Hesse, Thomas Mann, Rainer Maria Rilke, and Leo Tolstoy. Petitions were submitted to parliament, in 1898, 1922 and 1925, but failed to gain the support of the parliament, and the law continued to criminalize all male-male sexual acts until 1969 and wasn't entirely removed until 1994.

Original members of the WhK included physician Magnus Hirschfeld, publisher Max Spohr, lawyer Eduard Oberg and writer Max von Bülow. Adolf Brand, Benedict Friedländer, and Kurt Hiller also joined the organization. In 1929, Hiller took over as chairman of the group from Hirschfeld. At its peak, the WhK had about 500 members and branches in approximately 25 cities in Germany, Austria and the Netherlands. The committee was dissolved in 1933 when the Nazis destroyed the Institut für Sexualwissenschaft in Berlin where the WhK was based.

1929 – "Terry Andrews" is the pseudonym under which was published one of the most remarkable queer books of the twentieth century. At once disturbing and exhilarating, emotionally wrenching and hilariously funny, scathingly iconoclastic and genuinely moving, The Story of Harold (1974) has become a cult classic even as it has mostly languished out of print, its author's identity until recently a mystery.

Set in New York and narrated in the first-person by a children's book author named Terry, the novel recounts six months in the life of a death-obsessed bisexual involved with a respectable girlfriend, Anne, whom he introduces to the pleasures of cunnilingus; a handsome, masochistic, married doctor, Jim Whitaker, whom Terry loves desperately but who pointedly disavows any romantic feelings for him; a "fire freak," Dan O'Reilly, who wants to be burnt alive; and a deeply alienated little boy, Bernard, who responds only to Harold, the hero of Terry's children's books.

Whether describing the intricacies of fisting or rhapsodizing about the glories of Richard Strauss, Terry speaks wittily, honestly, and sometimes heartbreakingly. The Story of Harold appeared in the same year as Patricia Nell Warren's The Front Runner. But whereas Warren's wholesome and uplifting novel managed to become an international best-seller by articulating the aspirations and ideals of the burgeoning gay liberation movement, the more sophisticated but much darker Story of Harold created only a mild stir, then dropped out of print. Its sex scenes too graphic and extreme, its narrator a sexual anarchist rather than a poster boy for gay liberation, The Story of Harold failed to capture the attention of the mass of gay men and lesbians in search of positive representations of themselves and their lives.

Key to the novel is Harold, the beguiling hero of Terry's children's stories and poems, a leprechaun-like figure who possesses magic powers and a host of curious friends and acquaintances (often modeled on Terry's sexual partners). In enlisting the stories of Harold to teach Bernard some crucial life lessons, Terry eventually comes to an epiphany of his own.

The Story of Harold not only captures the rhythm of life in New York City in the 1970s for many educated, affluent, gay and bisexual men, but it also conveys, without ever being moralistic or didactic, the emptiness and despair that the era's sexual revolution sometimes masked. For all his prowess as a sexual athlete, Terry finds his existence meaningless until he is faced with the challenge of teaching a sad little boy the incalculable value and possibilities of a positive engagement with life.

Upon its publication and subsequent reprint, Terry Andrews was identified only as "the pseudonym of a well-known author of children's books who lives in New York City." The elusive author of The Story of Harold, it has recently been revealed, is George Selden Thompson, who under the pseudonym George Selden was indeed a very successful author of children's books, winning a Newbery Honor Award for his most celebrated story, The Cricket in Times Square (1961). Selden's cricket, which was also featured in several sequels, bears obvious resemblances to Andrews' Harold.

Thompson was born in Hartford, Connecticut on May 14, 1929 and educated at Loomis School and Yale University, where he studied English and classical literature. Although he travelled to Europe periodically, he spent most of his life in New York. He died on December 5, 1989. Thompson once observed that "It is difficult to write about one's self. I would much rather write about small animals—good and bad—small children—good and bad—than about a middle-aging author." But what teases one out of thought is the idea that in The Story of Harold Thompson made the life of "a middle-aging author" a lasting contribution to glbtq literature.

Andrews aka Selden aka Thompson died in 1989.

1974 – Peter Macdissi, born in Beirut, Lebanon, is a Lebanese actor and executive producer.

His filmography consists mostly of television work, most notably playing recurring character Olivier Castro-Staal on Alan Ball's HBO series Six Feet Under. In 2007, he appeared in Towelhead, a feature film written and directed by Alan Ball, who is also his partner.

1991 – Ryan Adams, known professionally as Ryland Adams, is an American YouTuber. In 2014, he became an on-air host and producer for Clevver, an online pop culture media company. Adams later left Clevver in 2017, citing questionable business practices.

Adams entered into a relationship with fellow YouTuber Shane Dawson in 2016, with whom he frequently collaborates; Adams is primarily known for his YouTube vlogs about his life. In October 2020, Adams announced and released the first episode of his podcast The Sip, alongside his co-host, Lizze Gordon. As of February 2019, his videos have received an average of 3.8 million views.

In 2019, Adams received the Shorty Award for Vlogger of the Year.

Ryland Adams has been dating YouTuber Shane Dawson since 2016. In March 2019, they became engaged after Dawson proposed to Adams. Ryland and Dawson share a home in Parker, Colorado.

1991 – Lukas Dhont, born on this date, is a Belgian film director and screenwriter. He was featured in Forbes 30 Under 30 Europe list in 2019.

He made his feature-length debut in 2018 with Girl, a drama film inspired by the story of Nora Monsecour which focuses on a trans girl pursuing a career as a ballerina. Girl premiered at the 2018 Cannes Film Festival, where it won the Caméra d'Or award for best first feature film, as well as the Queer Palm. It received the André Cavens Award for Best Film given by the Belgian Film Critics Association (UCC) and was selected as the Belgian entry for the Best Foreign Language Film at the 91st Academy Awards. It received nine nominations at the 9th Magritte Awards and won four, including Best Flemish Film and Best Screenplay for Dhont.

Dhont's second feature, Close, starring Emilie Dequenne and Léa Drucker, premiered in competition at the 2022 Cannes Film Festival, where he shared the Grand Prix with Claire Denis' Stars At Noon. It also won the Sydney Film Prize in June 2022. The film is based on his own experiences at school, and tells the story of the intense friendship between two thirteen-year old boys. As of July 2021 Dhont is developing an untitled film with screenwriter Laurent Lunetta.

1996 – Blake Brockington (d.2015) was an American trans man whose suicide attracted international attention. He had previously received attention as the first openly transgender high school homecoming king in North Carolina, and had since been advocating for LGBT youth, the transgender community, and against police brutality.

Brockington was assigned female at birth and identified as such until he came out publicly as transgender while attending East Mecklenburg High School as a tenth grade student. His family was not supportive of his decision to transition, wondering why a black youth would want to draw more attention to himself. Because of this, Brockington chose to live with a foster family during his transition.

Brockington was enrolled at University of North Carolina at Charlotte, majoring in music education. At the time of his death, he was on medical leave and not attending classes. He stated that his plans were to become a band director and composer.

Brockington died on March 23, 2015 after being struck by several vehicles on the outer loop of Interstate 485 near Pavilion Boulevard in Charlotte. The incident was considered a suicide and was similar in nature to the suicides of Ash Haffner (d.2015) and Leelah Alcorn (d.2014).Many have noted that what happened to Brockington fits a dangerous pattern of harmful behavior by transgender youth – who often face disproportionate amounts of bullying, harassment, discrimination, and violence. Josh Burford, assistant director for sexual and gender diversity at UNC Charlotte, who had worked with Brockington on the exhibit at the Levine Museum, told the press "What happened to Blake is part of a systemic problem, especially for trans students of color. He didn't quit. He didn't give up. … He's a victim of what happens every single day to these kids."

2013 – Brazil: The National Council of Justice rules 4-1 to allow same-sex marriage nationally.

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hisui-dreamer · 1 year

Text

ode to the poison apple

Pairing: Epel Felmier x gn!reader

Synopsis: the more you find out about him, the more you find yourself enthralled by him.

Tags: drabble, fluff, slightly poetic hehe, reader is a simp for epel, bot proofread

Word count: 606

Notes: Happy birthday Epel! such a lovely family-loving guy who's proud of his hometown🥺

Masterlist

Your lover is like a painting, a work of art that you can't help but admire. You love the delicate, porcelain-like texture of his fair skin, and the way his lavender hair cascades like a waterfall, framing his face in a surreal aura. His eyes are like the ocean on a calm day, a light blue that glimmers with a soothing energy. You find yourself mesmerised every time you stare at him.

Your lover has a unique hobby of sculpting apples and wood. He spends hours perfecting the curves and shapes of his sculptures, bringing life to the lifeless materials with his skilled hands. When he sculpts apples, he carves intricate designs and patterns into the fruit's skin, transforming them into miniature works of art. When it comes to wood, he carves beautiful figurines and shapes that are inspired by nature and its various forms. His passion for sculpting is evident in the detail and precision that goes into every piece he creates, and it is a joy to watch him bring his visions to life.

Your lover's speech is like a symphony, a beautiful melody that you can't help but be entranced by. At first, it's a soft-spoken tune, a gentle rhythm that lulls you into a peaceful state. But as he becomes more invested, his Harveston accent starts to blossom, like a flower in full bloom. You find yourself captivated by his every word, savouring the way he pronounces certain words, and the unique rhythm of his speech. It's like music to your ears, a beautiful harmony that resonates deep within your soul.

Your lover is someone who deeply cares for his family and hometown, and has an unshakable connection to the culture of his roots, taking pride in his hometown's traditions and festivals and speaking fondly of them. He regularly assists his family with tasks and chores, showing his love and support in any way he can. His devotion to his family and community is a testament to his character and demonstrates the extent of his care for the people and places that helped shape him into the person he is today.

Your lover appears akin to a gentle breeze, calm and serene. Yet underneath the surface, there's a fierce competitive spirit that burns like a wildfire. His charm is a weapon, his competitive nature a driving force, and his dainty demeanour a captivating mystery. His short temper is like a storm, brewing in the distance, ready to unleash its power.

Your lover is a force to be reckoned with, fierce and unyielding, with a competitive streak that sets him apart. His will is like iron, unbreakable and resolute, driving him forward no matter the obstacles in his path. You are in awe of his unwavering determination to face challenges head-on, never backing down in the face of adversity. His unrelenting spirit is a thing of beauty, inspiring you to be better and do better every day.

You love every moment you spend with him, like a treasure trove of precious gems, each one shining with its own unique brilliance. Even when he's quiet and reserved, there's an energy in the air that hums with the promise of something great. And when he's loud and boisterous, it's like a bonfire that warms your soul. He challenges you to reach new heights and encourages you to be your best self, like a farmer who tends to his crops with care and patience. With him by your side, you feel like you can conquer the world.

You love how he puts you first, like a knight who guards his queen with unwavering loyalty. He is your rock, your shield, and your champion. You are grateful to have him in your life, and you are determined to love and support him in any way possible, just as he has loved and supported you. Your love for him is unwavering, and you cherish every moment you spend with him, knowing that he has captured your heart in a way that no one else ever could.

Your lover, is none other than Epel Felmier.

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

#twstnexus #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland epel #epel felmier #epel felmier x reader

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imeternallylove · 1 year

Text

Moulin Rouge Sous le Ciel Bleu - S.Strange

Red Mill under the Blue Sky: the roaring '20s era

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Reader

Genre: angst and fluff, mostly bittersweet 💔✌️

Warning: forbidden love, sexual content

Word: approx 4k

main mastetlist | request | prompts

theme song (im very rec to listen while reading this)

A brilliant red mill stood out among the other buildings in the Jardin de Paris, at the foot of the hill in the Montmartre neighborhood, commanding attention with its vibrant color and unusual façade. Large metal letters spelled out the word Moulin Rouge over the entryway to the colorful venue. The Red Mill, because it was exactly what the building looked like. It certainly drew attention to itself, and Monsieur Strange had no doubt that this was the proprietors' goal. Moulin Rouge had grown infamous in Paris, and he had no doubt that it was also infamous throughout the rest of France.

The building's bright scarlet façade contrasted with the pristine blue of the sky above it, making it stand out even more on clear days like today. Stephen would not have imagined, looking at the red mill, that this was the edifice known as The Bastion of Pleasures in the city of love. It wasn't visually appealing, but it was a novelty, and the mill at the entryway was one of the reasons for the establishment's notoriety. That, and the female cabaret performers.

Stephen Vincent Strange, heir of an eastern trade enterprise and an expert in oriental goods, was known as "young Monsieur Strange." He had been sent to France by his father a year before starting university to acquire the French language, and now, years later, he was studying for a degree in Orientalism at the famed Sorbonne. He'd become a go-to man for Parisian socialites, advising them on real Chinese and silk textiles, among other things, all sourced from his family's import business.

But, underneath the elegant and wealthy heir, he had become enthralled by the revolution, a movement that began in the middle of the last century, a stride towards freedoms and liberties that he had never known in his own home of New York.

That's how he ended himself in the Moulin Rouge cabaret. Stephen adored it. The excitement of doing something that would be considered inappropriate in his own nation was exhilarating. He wished he was an artist or a poet some days. Of course, he was brilliant at both due to his considerable schooling, so it wasn't that he couldn't do either. Nonetheless, he wished that he could live off his riches and do whatever he pleased, composing poetry, creating watercolours on rice paper, and attending the cabaret.

Most crucially, in those crazy daydreams, he could freely love you.

You'd met when he came to consult with you about some costumes you were working on for a Moulin Rouge performance. The surroundings were supposed to be inspired by the Orient, interesting, exotic, and beautiful all at the same time, and you required assistance with the designs. Young Monsieur Strange had paid you a visit in your sewing chamber as an orientalist. He was impressed by the attention to detail you had placed into the costumes and was eager to help you in perfecting the ideas.

He was back in your workrooms a few weeks later, checking the finished product as well as the music hall stage set. Because your lodgings were close to the Moulin Rouge, he stopped by to see you and your fellow seamstresses on his way back. He had admired your outfits and had recommended you to the proprietors.

That's how you met and then kept meeting, each one ending with you smiling a little brighter, his smile getting cheekier and cheekier.

Stephen often assumed that falling in love with one of the dancers would be simple. Monsieur Strange, on the other hand, was not one to take the easy way out. He had been unimpressed by the dancers' charm, flirty manner, and womanly figure. He was an orientalist visiting Paris from his hometown, and he had no interest for the loud women of the cabaret, famous for their cancan.

Instead, he had chosen the difficult path. He fell for you.

It was an impossible love. Hopeless in more ways than one; not only had he fallen head over heels for you irrevocably and explicitly, but there was no future in which he could do so. Your love was ephemeral, not because the sensations vanished, but because you couldn't freely love each other in this world, neither in France nor anywhere else. It was a forbidden love.

Something forbidden.

It's a hopeless love.

You knew it wouldn't last, you wouldn’t; but nothing does, so you loved him the same way he loved you.

Stephen would never marry a mere seamstress. He was a class above you, and he was certain his father had already picked a merchant's daughter for him, one from New York, just like him, just like his father wanted.

Tonight, he could spend naked in your arms, snuggled in the warm sheets of his bed, listening to his heartbeat while his long fingers combed through your hair.

"The sky was falling," you said as his heat cock finally came out, weary, clogged, and squeezed all the air out of your lungs. The palm of his hand lingered warmly on your exposed breasts, like a boy's toy.

Your hair is wet, and so is his. You look at the mess on the bedsheet, it's like a war, so criminally. Unless, of course Stephen's sharp smile, the top of his chest breaths heavily, and the bottom is buried beneath his blanket, but you pull out it to cover yourself so you can glimpse his entire body again. "And I'm falling for you, amour."

It was a quiet night. He'd snuck you into one of his smaller homes, where no servants could spy on you two. You had a glass of dry red wine and a baguette with camembert and red grapes. It was a basic dish by his standards, but it was everything the two of you could have desired for dinner tonight.

You had been kept busy by the continual repairs of Moulin Rouge costumes, as well as other work sent to you by higher and middle-class women, in the heart of balmy summer, with the sun shining down in all its splendor, warming you up and making all proper ladies sweat under their garments. You made no complaint. It was good job, and there was always additional money, which you could never have enough of.

Stephen did all the whining for you, about how you didn't have time for him, about how he felt neglected, about how you were too gorgeous to spend the days in a workroom instead of on the garden outside, enjoying in the sun and definitely keeping him company.

Finally, your work was completed, and you decided to take the day off, and now, at the end of the day spent in his arms, you were falling asleep in his arms, his gentle breathing feeling like a summer breeze in your hair, and his golden skin was warm on yours. Because of your body heat and the warm night, you couldn't sleep beneath a blanket, so you slept on a light linen sheet.

"Mon plus cher amour," he said into the air, that’s the way he called; "my dearest love." And you had responded to his call through the thin veil of sleep, turning in his arms to face him, your lips brushing against his as he spoke, the delicate touch sending thrills down Stephen's spine.

"Mon cherrie?" You'd wondered, laying a sly kiss on his pouty lips.

"I cannot imagine living without you." He engaged, his eyes staring into yours with such affection that you wondered if a mortal man could be filled with so much love. Such deep feeling was surely destined for something more holy than you; for ladies whose beauty lived on in legend, a kind of beauty caught by poems, songs, and prayers. Not you, mortal, frail, and average.

"Don't say such things." You murmured softly, your tone echoing Stephen's love in his gaze. His breath caught, and you could feel his heart rattling against your chest, its steady beat matching the pace of your own. "They make me fall in love with you even more." Your lover grinned at your comments, his long fingers reaching to gently hold your hand before bringing it to his lips, kissing your knuckles delicately, his lips smooth like rosebuds, flushed a deep pink as blood flowed through him, red and strong. His aquatic eyes never left yours for a second.

Hopelessly, you loved him so badly, too.

The days passed without him, and eventually, after all work was finished, Stephen decided to take you to the premiere of the new cabaret show, the one you had spent months sewing costumes for, and now he would allow you the pleasure of seeing the fruit of your labors, and you had a feeling it would be sweet.

Tonight, he had taken you to the cabaret. The moulin rouge was full with patrons, their cacophonous banter before the show was like the beginning of a birdsong, someplace deep in the rainforest, their words, not always French, rang throughout the room like a flock of tropical songbirds, unorganized but cheerful. You sat at a table for two, he in a magnificent black suit, you in your best dress, your hair done up in a stylish style you had seen many of your clients wear. When you looked in the mirror before leaving the house, you couldn't believe the lady in the reflection was you. You wondered if he had always thought you were beautiful.

"You are lovely to look at. Never forget that, mon amour." He leaned in to whisper into your ears, the dim light shimmering golden against his skin, making the shape of his nose and the plushness of his lips even more refined, even more seductive. Your heart skipped a beat despite your will. As the dancers entered the stage, the flock fell silent, leaving only the melody of the orchestra. Stephen relaxed in his chair, entirely at ease, sipping champagne.

The show was spectacular, but no one expected less from the legendary Moulin Rouge. The dancers glided around the stage in perfect synchronicity. Even their most frantic routines were carried out with beauty and precision. others gowns were shorter than others, and others were more scandalous. You hadn't skimped on the feathers and sequins. Each costume was meticulously fitted, with every thread perfectly in place and every color carefully chosen.

"Something like this would never be tolerated where I come from." Stephen whispered in your ear. Even without looking at him, you could tell that his gaze was drawn to the dancers and his lips formed a sneer against your ears. You knew he wasn't talking about the cabaret. "I'm glad it's allowed here." When you didn't react, he whispered, and you felt a delightful chill down your spine.

"They look gorgeous." Instead, you stated that your gaze never leaves the stage. The dancers span, their skirts swirling with them, exposing more of their legs, and the audience couldn't stop gasping.

He questioned as he took another sip from his flute. "The dancers?"

"Pretty women look good in pretty clothing." When another round of cacophonous delight rippled through the audience, you responded with a nod, a smile on your lips.

"Are those your dresses?" Stephen smiled, his eyes twinkling as he examined the colorful outfits, feather plumes, and embroidery on the bodices and skirts.

“Oui.” You sipped your drink, allowing the buzz of alcohol to enhance your enjoyment of the evening. "What's the point of staring at me?" After a while, you said, the feeling of Stephen's deep ocean eyesight staring at you becoming uncomfortable as the night progressed, your second flute of champagne now standing empty in front of you.

"I can't stop myself. You are like the moon." He smiled, turning his head to look at you from a fresh perspective. "So attracting me." He spoke, and his hand moved across the table to grip yours, his long fingers weaving through yours.

You stayed like that till the end of the show.

When the night was done and he had draped your coat over your shoulders like a gentleman, a cheeky smile graced his lips, his eyes bright with mischief.

"We went to the pleasure palace, and yet my greatest pleasure was watching you." He told you, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear, savoring the crimson that warmed your cheeks, both from the champagne and from him.

Another week passed, and you were again in his chambers, laying among the lovely covers, holding a book as Stephen dressed. He was dressed in a suit identical to the one he wore to Moulin Rouge, but he had changed the jacket to something more suited for dinner. You liked his straight brows and heavy lashes as you combed his hair back away from his face.

"How do you think I look?" He approached, tying his black bowtie in front of the mirror above his dresser.

Looking at his tiny figure over your book, you told him. "Handsome as always." You said that when he turned around and winked at him. "You will be fine, Monsieur Strange."

"Whatever you want to say, Mademoiselle." He smiled as he walked over to the bed and knelt down. His plush lips were on yours in an instant, and you melted into the kiss.

When he turned to slide into his jacket, he looked back at you, his eyes filled with concern. You could tell he was tense by the clench of his jaw and the strain in his shoulders.

"Enjoy yourself." You smiled at him, attempting to cheer him up. Whatever was on his thoughts was weighing heavily on him. Enough to make him wary of telling you about it. It was a rare occurrence.

"It's just another business meeting; I'm recommending teapot purchases." He muttered, presumably to himself, and you sprang from the bed, wrapping your arms around his torso and staring into his eyes. Their maritime blue reminded you of hot coffee and chocolate in the morning. "New York ceramics have grown in popularity among those who can afford to import them." He spoke, his arms wrapping over your shoulders. Stephen buried his face in your hair, and you gave him a minute of silence. He pressed you against him, and you listened to his heartbeat, sure and steady like him.

"Selling a lot of teapots, then, mon cherie." You told him, and he let you go with one more farewell kiss.

"Don't worry about missing me too much, mon plus cher amour." He called out as he walked out of the room, and you couldn't help but smile as you watched him go.

Sadly, you do.

The dinner was drab. The hosts were rich, as they always were, and they loved to gossip, as they always did. Normally, Stephen avoided the ladies' gossip, preferring to sit and drink whiskey with the males, but tonight he found himself in the center of it. Not because he was really interested, but because he was the topic of it.

Many guys stood around the room conversing, and some women avoided the host's wife, who was a nasty gossip who could run her mouth like no other. Unfortunately, Stephen was on his way to meet his business partner, Monsieur Holmes from England, when he overheard the conversation.

The guests sat on luxurious sofas, with a tiny wooden mahogany coffee table in the center, containing a lovely tea set, white porcelain with delicate lotus blossoms painted in red for adornment. Last summer, it was one of the models they carried. Surprisingly, it was not a high-end set.

"I heard he went to the cabaret with his mistress last week. I'm curious who she is." The harsh voice of one of the ladies pierced his eardrums. Stephen could tell she was one of your clientele based on her attire. In your shop window, a similar dress, however green rather than the caustic salmon color this woman was wearing, was shown. He could recognize your work from anywhere right now.

"There will be no high standing." Another woman interrupted him, and he wanted to stop listening. Morbid curiosity kept him quiet, listening to those women criticize you, his blood boiling under his skin.

"A Frenchwoman and a New Yorker. In public!" Stephen tried to stop himself from cursing after hearing the woman in salmon scream.

"How are you doing, ladies?" Instead, he put on a happy face and walked right into the women's chat, interrupting their gossip. "I heard you ordered two tea sets, Madame." He turned to gaze at an older woman sitting between the two who were chatting about you.

“Yes. My daughter is marrying into a good family, and I want to make sure she brings only the best to her new home." She had spoken, her nose turned almost comically high as she tried to gaze at him with contempt.

"I hope you will be pleased with the quality of our products." He had bowed lightly, a sickly-sweet smile lingering on his lips, as rage had no doubt poked through his eyes. When you glanced into his eyes, you stated you could tell he was upset. He would have spoken more, but Shrr had come to his rescue, his cheerful attitude brightening the mood of the women.

"Ah, Monsieur Strange, I was looking for you." He talked, his rich voice filled with joy as he tried to pull Stephen away.

He pushed him to the side and handed the shorter man a tumbler of scotch. Sherlock's massive body towered over him, hiding him from the gossips' gaze. His huge hand reached out and squeezed Stephen's shoulder in reassurance.

"Young men are young men regardless of where they come from." Do not listen to old rumor." Sherlock's powerful voice slowed to a mumble, and Stephen assumed his companion was growling rather than speaking.

"Thank you, Sherlock." He mumbled, gulping the scotch down, too frustrated to taste it. He found the burn of alcohol to be a pleasant distraction.

"Better to love one woman than to hate one woman." When his pal looked down on him, his teal eyes were soft.

Stephen asked shifting the conversation from one unpleasant issue to another. "Any news from my father?"

“None yet. I’m not sure he even knows about her.” Sherlock reassured him, a small smile playing on his lips. He sipped on his scotch.

"If he knew," Stephen said, his heart pounding wildly against his chest, making him dizzy, before Sherlock cut him off.

"You'd have been on a ship back by now, and that merchant's daughter would have been waiting for you at the docks." He finished for him, gulping down the rest of his scotch before proceeding to refill their glasses.Stephen received an increasing number of inquiries for imported pottery as the evening continued. Tea sets, plates, and bowls were among the items requested. By the end of the meal, his notebook was full of names and catalog numbers.

Stephen had removed his coat and unfastened his bowtie when he returned home. His white shirt had a few buttons undone, displaying his golden collarbone. He sat on his living room sofa, sipping more scotch from a crystal glass. When he arrived, you tossed the book and sat alongside him on the couch, your head resting on his shoulder. The fabric beneath you was velvet, far more expensive than you could possibly afford. You could see he had it built to order.

Stephen had remained silent other than greetings and a couple brief kisses. Despite the drink he consumed, the worry shown on his face had not subsided. From the corner of your eye, you noticed his jaw clenched and relaxed.

"Are you ready to tell me now?" You asked him, and he turned his chin towards you. His gaze was drawn to your lips first, then up into your eyes. He'd always assumed they were sapphires. Not because they were blue, but because they reminded him of the sea, deep and uncharted. They hid your heart, so they gleamed like valuable stones and reflected light like the tumultuous waters of the sea. Deep, so deep that he lost himself in them and found himself in them as well.

"I'm worried about my father." His heavenly voice broke, heavy with uncertainty, and he mumbled.

"We knew about your father from the start,” you told him as you pressed your palm against his cheek, allowing Stephen to sink into your contact and relish in how warm he felt against you. “We knew how this was going to end before it even started."

"What if I don't want this to come to an end?" He asked whether and you were the one to lose yourself in the depths of his irises this time.

You kissed him with your other hand on his cheek. Passionately and uninhibitedly. It didn't matter if the end was coming or if it was already here. You had feelings for him. You were hopelessly in love with him.

Stephen went violet when you touched him. He felt it seep into him when he pressed his lips to yours with bruising force, and again when you grabbed him in his bed, and again when you left purple marks over his collar bones, each one a visible stain on his body; something to remind him he was yours, something to remind you that you were his.

Days flew by in a blur of color. You awoke in his bed, went to work, and spent the evening at Moulin Rouge. Every night was spectacular; every night was the same. You had grown fond of Moulin Rouge. Stephen could sit by you in public and flaunt your devotion for him. In Montmartre, most people were preoccupied with the concept of liberty and freedom. You shared their hopes, that the world will be a better place to live one day. Both you and he fit in. It was simple to be at the Bastion of Pleasures.

After one of the shows, when you had finally returned home to recuperate, an unexpected guest appeared.

Sherlock had come in one evening, just as Stephen was falling asleep in your lap, your voice calming him. The British man had arrived with a letter. It was obvious that it was from Stephen's father. Because the characters were strange, you were illiterate and blissfully unaware of the contents.

"Not good." Stephen had risen from your lap and was pacing as he read over the letter. Sherlock had taken a seat near you, his form looming over you. You weren't bothered because you were used to being in his shadow, but the expressions on both men's faces made you nervous.

Sherlock told them. "He wants you to return by the end of the next year." His strong voice boomed through the room, and his loving brown eyes looked down at you, and then at Stephen, with such sadness that you couldn't tell who was more saddened by the news.

"I understand." Stephen paused his pacing and requested that one of his assistants bring them some cognac. "To one more year." When the vodka was poured into crystal glasses and delivered to the three of them, he toasted.

You raised your glass with a cheeky smile, toasting with him. Sherlock raised his glass reluctantly and witheredly, the amber liquid shimmering in the faint light, before taking a gulp.

You lay wrapped in Stephen's arms that night, a pleasant breeze blowing through the open window, drifting over your naked shoulders as you glanced up at your sweetheart.

"Let us leave. Just… Run away with me." Stephen mumbled, his eyes gleaming in the dim light of his room, more pensive than you had ever seen him.

"Is this? …New Americana proposal’s? Where’s my ring?" You commented, a broad smile on your face, as though pondering of the possibilities, soon, your shoulders jolted down. "Where shall we go?"

"Wherever my father won't find us." You pressed closer to him, further into the protection of his arms, as he aware you. “Italy?” You sought out, considering locations too far away for the Strange business to pursue you to.

“Britain? Erm-”

"French Indochina?" You kissed his forehead, with an awkward smile on your lips.

"I don't care… literally. Where we go; my heart goes to loving you everywhere." He spoke softly, and you knew he loved you now more than ever.

Stephen was ready to leave everything to be with you, where his father could not intervene, and you were ready to leave with him, you knew you would; for anything even your cabaret flora life here; for one condition… just be with him.

"Then let's go anywhere." You gave in, putting a kiss to his lips and whispering love words into his ears as he held you. He whispered them back, breathed love into you with his kisses, was firm and soothing alongside you, and despite the frost in the air, you were warm.

His lengthy fingers knead over yours, enveloping them. You know he staked his entire future on it. You are mindful of this. "Whether it's an ice-covered world or warfare, I'll be the one that burns it." Your lips curled together, his words so sincere, and his rich tone melt with every emotion you've ever beheld. "Like frost and flame; hot and cold both evaporated."

You draw stars on his chest, another one, another one… Attentively paying attention to his heartbeat. The galactic cosmos feels incredibly near whenever you're with him, your Monsieur Strange, yours.

"Trust me?"

"Always have."

Love was occasionally hopeless, but maybe this time, just this time, there was hope.

And this is hope that you want would be go on survived.

For everlasting.

a/t: how was it 🥹 idk why but the plot comes while i listen this so bitter, tortured but sweetener so it’s challenging me to write 1920’ era. Well… in fact, the forbidden love is my first time writing… so erm yk what i mean? just please give love to it bc Monsieur Strange is watching you 😂🥹🤭 the core of this story is foreign man who has love affair with the owner of cabaret and he bet everything on it to stay with his heart, so fucking romantic yeah? this side is so rare to see from Stephen x reader ff and that’s why, so sorry to bring him out of character again bc it’s not my first time actually HAHAHAHAHA xD well next story we will see new youtuber Stephen who open YouTube channel so bright the boredom of quarantine by corona, he’s doctor right? let’s go romantic comedy yahooooo

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