#with my luck she would do that with squirrels

[msafterhours]

Two Hands

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

~25k words

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

tick...

tock...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Enjoying the view?"

Well shit.

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

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

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

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

“...”

“...”

tick...

“Oh.”

tock...

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

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

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

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

tick...

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

Then she steals your heart.

Again.

With that unreasonably sultry lip bite.

Again.

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

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

You open your mouth, hoping to continue the conversation further, but find yourself abruptly cut off by a sudden series of discordant cacophonies as her phone vibrates harshly against the wooden table.  You watch on in poorly hidden dismay as she checks it and her mirthful expression transforms into a grimace at the messages' contents.

"Ugh, I need to get back to my place," she explains as she begins to gather her things.

"Oh, okay," you sigh.  "Thanks again for letting me sit with you and for the … mostly pleasant conversation."

Her frown fades, revealing hints of the smile hidden within.  "Sure, no problem.  I'm sure Ms. Kim would have wanted me dead if she heard I mistreated her other major source of income."

You can’t help but chuckle at her words, though the laughter feels cheerless in the face of more pressing concerns.  "Am I going to see you again?"

Her eyes stare into your own once more, piercing through to your core.  "Who knows?  We've been coming to this shop as frequently as we have for as long as we have for who knows how long and haven't run into each other until now.  Who's to say it won't take another couple of years until our paths cross again?"

And with that sobering perspective, the girl you’ve come to know as Nayeon stands, giving you only the slightest nod in farewell before stepping away from the table.  You watch her as she takes her first few steps, feeling your heart sink lower and lower as the distance between you grows larger and larger.

tock...

But suddenly, you almost swear you can see a lightbulb go off above her head, causing her to turn and walk back to the table.

"You know, I never did catch your name," Nayeon remarks casually.

Despite the exhilaration of your heart soaring at her return, you try to maintain a neutral expression as you reply, "Perfect, now we both have a reason to meet again."

While it might just be your imagination, you dare to hope that it’s your words that transform her sly smirk into a genuine smile that reaches her eyes.

"Oh yeah?  What's your reason?"

"Who said I only have one?"

With her curiosity sated and ego sufficiently inflated, Nayeon gives you a small smile as a farewell, then turns and walks out of the ramen shop.  And as the clock ticks ever onward and you sit alone at the table, pondering what impact this night might have on the rest of your life, you can only hope that she hasn’t walked away for the final time.

tick...

tock...

tick...

tock...

It really was bearable the first couple of days.

But the days turned to weeks and the weeks turned to months and the months began to feel like years.  And as time mercilessly continues to pass by, you unsurprisingly find yourself increasingly affected by the thought of her.

You realized something was seriously wrong when entire weeks began to blur together and each visit to the ramen shop left you feeling colder and lonelier than your previous visit.  It isn’t long before the intrusive thoughts remodel your mind and claim it as their own, leaving you wondering if you had lost your love for your favorite restaurant and your best chance at love in a single night.  Despite the depressing potential of those dramatic notions, you attempt to cast them aside, instead focusing your efforts on maintaining your previous routine and, more importantly, meeting Nayeon again.

Since you assume Aunt Kim will rat you out to Nayeon if you’re too desperate in your attempts, you choose a more subtle approach.  Instead of showing up every night, you alter your schedule to better fit hers.  The awkward “middle” shifts at your work are rarely prioritized, so you’re easily able to make the change and justify your abnormally late arrivals to the shop.

However, your efforts fall short, leaving you wanting, craving even a glimpse of the radiant smile that graces your dreams far more often than you’d readily admit.  And even though you desperately want to ask Aunt Kim if she’s even seen Nayeon, you’re well aware that outside assistance would break the unspoken rules of the game.  So, even as your heart yearns for her, you choose to continue playing.  Even in the face of defeat, you persevere.

All the while, a nagging feeling remains in the back of your mind.  Though you can’t figure out why, you’re sure you know her from somewhere.  The passage of time allows that nagging to fester, growing exponentially until it becomes all you can think about.

It’s not long before the pressure becomes unbearable, forcing you to cave.  Nayeon’s a fairly popular name, but luckily, you’re able to fall back on her nickname of “Nana”.  Thus, on a day that’s become your new norm, you dedicate part of your shift to searching through Naver pages, eventually finding what you’ve been looking for.  Kind of.

You find that she’s the main dancer and leader of a girl group named woo!ah!, one of the seemingly endless number of new K-Pop groups that’ve slipped under your radar.  As you scroll through the pages and watch video after video, you unsurprisingly enjoy their music, yet feel a sense of unease grow with each passing video.  You’d expected feelings of excitement and joy to burst forth with each of Nayeon’s appearances, but instead you’re met by dread, trepidation, and a plethora of other unpleasant emotions that you can’t identify amidst the maelstrom rampaging in your heart.

You finish their MV playlist depressingly quickly, finding far more questions than answers at the end of this rainbow.  Unfortunately, before you can reach a satisfying conclusion, the clock strikes twelve and begins to sing, signaling the end of your shift.  After packing up your things, you depart, and, following a short bus ride, you arrive at the intersection where you turn right to visit the noodle shop once again.

And an hour later, after you’ve stood in line, placed your order, found somewhere to sit, enjoyed your meal, and looked over every square millimeter of the room, you find yourself alone.

Once.

Again.

tick...

tock...

Seemingly a moment later, you’re surprised to find yourself at home.  You rationalize that your body must have moved on its own and your brain must not have cared to encode the memory of walking this familiar path, but even this explanation leaves you with serious concerns.  As you reach into your pocket and feel the warmth from your fingers being sapped by the key’s cold metal, you simply feel … tired.

What’s the point of changing your routine if your days are bound to end the same as always?

What’s the point of searching for warmth if you continue to be left alone in the cold?

What’s the point of listening to your heart if all it leads you to is the deafening silence of your empty apartment?

You can feel it in the air as you turn the key, open the door, and enter the suffocating silence of your apartment.  The air’s cold.  Heavy.  The room’s dark.  Empty.  And you’re sure.  Ready.  As much as your heart yearns to chase Nayeon, your mind is telling you that it’s time.  Time to return to the routine you’ve relied on for so, so long.  You begin by sending a quick email to your supervisor, requesting a change back to your previous schedule.  Then, after a few more hours that won’t be worth remembering, you willingly wade into the darkness.

You mourn the loss of what could have been.  You allow the clouds to roll in, allow the falling rain to drown out the sounds of your heart beating against its cage and its cries for freedom.  You pray that the storm will wash away the memories of that night.  You hope, as desperately as ever, that you’ll find her.  But if your heart can’t have what it wants, you’ll ask your mind to forget her.

tick…..

tock.

tick…..

tock.

Is it eight days later?  Nine days?  Ten?  Your memory might have failed you again, but routine provides you necessary stability once more, helping you through the motions of working the once familiar morning shift before guiding you through the short bus ride to your stop and the subsequent walk to an always familiar intersection and a newly unwelcome decision.

If you simply continue forwards, you’ll arrive at your apartment, where you know that leftovers and loneliness amidst the silence of solitude awaits.  However, if routine truly is still in the driver’s seat, you’ll turn to your right, towards Aunt Kim’s, where you know that ramen and loneliness amidst the voices of others awaits.

Thus, despite the clear blue sky and the bright sun that signaled the early signs of winter’s departure, decision paralysis sets in.  The light flashes yellow, yet you need to decide, now.  Then, it flashes red, yet you know you need to go.  Finally, the indicator flashes green, yet you remain motionless as the crowd begins to surge past you.

It’s there, in that moment, where you stop fighting anxiety’s powerful pull, allowing it to drag you under, away from your routine.  It’s there, in that moment, where you give up, instead electing to return home.  Yet, it’s there, in that moment, where you feel a gentle tug on your arm and see a flash of warm golden light in your periphery.

"Come on, you gotta get there before it gets busy," Nayeon whispers, mock urgency masking her features and veiling her words.  "Otherwise, you might have to ask some weirdo if you can share a table with them."

You’re all too eager to allow yourself to be dragged along, heart nearly bursting out of your chest as you loudly exclaim, “Nayeon!  I—”

Your words are a jumbled mess, bouncing around the inside of your skull, desperately trying to escape all at once, but you hold them all back as the other pedestrians turn, glaring at you as they judge your sudden outburst.  Once you finish offering meek smiles and apologetic waves, you whisper back, “You’re right, that sounds terrible!  Let’s go!”

As she continues to drag you along, you take the opportunity to study the beaming visage of your guide once more.  The passage of time allows you to view the literal girl of your dreams in a new light, and you find Nayeon’s just as radiant in today’s pleasant sunshine as she was so many weeks ago, hidden away from the harsh snowfalls of the early Korean winter.

"What should I say?" you wonder to yourself as you allow her to lead you down the busy sidewalk.  "Would it be too forward to say I missed her after only meeting her once before?"

A familiar cadence, the ringing of a very particular bell, cuts your internal musings short, shunting you back into reality as Nayeon opens the door to Aunt Kim's ramen shop.  Nayeon finally detaches from your arm, leaving you feeling cold and empty.  Not unlike your freezer that fateful night, so many months ago.

After shaking off the last remnants of your reverie, you step forward and join her in line.  Despite being a fair bit taller than her, you can’t seem to make out what exactly she’s doing on her phone as you both wait to place your order.

It only takes a few moments of snooping before a wave of guilt washes over you as you realize your invasion of her privacy, causing you to shift your gaze elsewhere, to other areas of the shop.  Areas such as the table where you had sat the previous time, which currently sits unoccupied.

"Another missed opportunity," you think to yourself as you grieve the lost potential and come to another realization.  "Not to mention the fact that she held the door for me because I was so lost in thought!  Ugh, you're blowing it!  Stop overthinking everything."

After a few short minutes idly spent looking anywhere except towards Nayeon, all of the customers in line in front of you finish placing their orders and go to find a seat.  You aren’t surprised as Nayeon needs mere moments to recite her clearly well-practiced offer, but you are caught off guard when Aunt Kim leans close to Nayeon, whispering something you can’t make out amidst the low murmur of the crowd inhabiting your second home.

The rational part of your brain informs you that, at most, a few seconds pass.  Your emotions tell a far different story, flooding your overwrought mind with a deluge of disquieting dangers and forcing you to consider each of the painful possibilities and worst-case scenarios that comprise the tsunami attempting to drag you into the depths of self-doubt.  Eventually, the two part, and as Nayeon turns to face you, her mischievous expression and gleaming smile ignites a flame in you, burning away any frost that’s formed since you left her embrace.

Her eyes flick over towards Aunt Kim, seemingly challenging you to approach the elderly woman who stands behind the counter with crossed arms and a dangerously amused expression.  This time, however, Nayeon doesn’t even give your words enough time to get caught in your throat, instead simply walking past you and allowing the silky strands of her hair to brush your shoulder and convey all the intent she needs to.

As you gather what little cognitive function remains, you’re especially grateful for the familiarity of this place as Aunt Kim enters your order with well-practiced quickness.  You’re uncharacteristically afraid of meeting her eyes as you sign your name and begin to enter the same generous tip you’ve always given, but her scoff of indignation as you meekly hold out your hand for your order number forces you to do so.

"So." she says bluntly, withholding the plastic indicator as she awaits your response.

"Yes ma’am?” you ask, voice laced with saccharine innocence.

“Oh gods, don’t tell me that that girl’s stubbornness has infected you too,” Aunt Kim responds exasperatedly.  “You finally managed to meet up with her again, eh?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you respond as you delete your previous number, instead entering an extra-large tip before braving Aunt Kim’s gaze once more, silently conveying your plea for mercy as you literally attempt to buy her silence.

Aunt Kim’s eyes flash down briefly, widening for a moment before a deep, jovial laugh echoes out from her, reverberating throughout the room as she holds your gaze once more.

“All right, act sly all you like.  I'm just tired of seeing someone come in alone fifty times in a row just to spend their time here hoping and searching for a certain someone.”

The banter is unique, odd, and comfortably routine as you ease into its familiar warmth.  Your brow arches dramatically as you declare, “Why Aunt Kim, I can’t stand these accusations!  It’s only been forty-six times since then!”

You watch as Aunt Kim’s smile fades, shifting from a display of mirth to a thin obfuscation of sadness as she responds, “You’re not the only one who’s been sitting alone at a table for two.  Now go!”

And as she pushes your number into your hands and sends your mind into a tailspin, you’re left with no other option but to turn and allow the next customer to set up.  Your body’s autopilot takes over, turning you further until you face the table where this all started, only to find it occupied.

By none other than Nayeon herself.

You lock eyes for the briefest of moments before she avoids your gaze, poorly pretending to be enthralled by the black screen of her phone.  As the slightest hints of confidence begin to emerge from within, you walk up to the table, acting as casually as you can, pulling out a chair and taking a seat across from her.

After offering up a prayer to whoever’s listening, desperately hoping that you wouldn’t blow this chance, you look straight at her and ask, “So, how have you been?”

“Oh, so we’re just getting right into it, huh?” Nayeon asks, already crafting the thin veneer of the haughtiness she’d used to shield herself before.  “Not even going to thank me for saving you a seat?  I know you’ve had issues finding them before.”

You raise your hands up in mock surrender as you admit, “Alright, fair enough.  I am very grateful for your act of charity once again, and I’ll be sure to make it up to you.”

“I’m glad to see you’ve come to your senses,” she declares, obvious satisfaction in her smirk as she nods in approval.  “To answer your question, I’ve been fortunate enough to be busy, so that’s always good.  Aside from work, I guess it’s mostly just been working out, spending time with those I’m closest to, and coming here.  What about you?”

“I’ve …” your voice trails off for a moment, granting you silence as you meticulously craft your next line.  “I’ve had better months, but I honestly can’t complain too much.  Work’s been consistent, so like you said, that’s always good.  Plus, I always have this place to come back to, so that’s a big plus.”

“So, you come here often?” Nayeon asks, waggling her eyebrows in the most tropey, dramatic way possible.  It’s clearly meant to be humorous, and you’re all too eager to reward her efforts with a smile.  You just also hope it buys you time to reclaim the breath she steals so easily.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that," you say, chuckling slightly as you struggle against all the unwelcome thoughts and emotions that continuously threaten to boil over.  "Especially the past couple of months, I'm fairly sure I've made a sizeable contribution to the 'Kim Family College Fund'.  What about you, have you also been a generous donor?"

And there it is.  For the first time since that night a lifetime ago, your words strike a chord, and your just reward is the melodious laughter that bursts free from the alluring lips of Nayeon before gently drifting across the table and imprinting itself once again upon your soul.  And all you can wonder is why you’d ever choose to stop chasing her.

After the briefest of stanzas, her mirthful song quiets and her words shift to a whisper.  "Listen, if my friends ever find out just how often I've been coming here and how much I've spent, it’ll be the last day I see the sun!  So shhh!"

The quiet laugh that resonates out straight from your heart may not be planned or voluntary, but anyone paying a modicum of attention can easily tell it’s genuine.  You feel free, weightless even, to an extent you haven’t felt since a certain night so many weeks ago.  And as you savor this moment of warmth, of dethawing even, you’re glad to see that same joy mirrored in the eyes and smile of Nayeon too.

"Alright, fair enough.  Not a word to your friends, and you won't rat me out to mine?  Deal?"

"Deal!" she responds eagerly, extending her hand out to shake yours.

Without hesitation, you reach out and seal the pact, cherishing the influx of warmth generated by even the swiftest second of your fingertips grazing the soft skin of her palm.

But then, just like that, it’s gone.  The briefest moment of contact ends all too soon, and you find yourself in silence once more.

Fortunately, this time it doesn’t last, as Nayeon speaks up once more.

"So … any particular reason you've been around more often recently?" she asks as she looks around in a familiar pattern, seemingly fascinated by the decorations of the place she must have visited hundreds of times.

"I might have a reason," you respond suavely as you lean back in your chair.  "Maybe even a couple."

"Oh yeah?" she asks, ending her search as she reaches her destination: your eyes.  "Pardon my vanity, but is there any chance … I’m one of those reasons?"

In this moment, this secular moment of confession, this seductress needs no lip bites nor any promises of sweet nothings to ensnare your heart even further.  All you need is to look into her eyes, where you see the same earnest anticipation mirrored within your own soul.

So, in this moment, you give yourself no time to second guess yourself, acting on pure instinct as you take out your heart, affix it to your sleeve in full view of everyone within the restaurant, and admit, "Yeah, I mean, you’re the only reason that mattered.  I guess … I was scared of the thought of never seeing you again.  I really missed you."

tick...

Another moment passes.  But this stretch of silence is far shorter than the last and her response is far quicker than last time you’d shared a confession.  This time, it’s her words that shock you.

"Thanks, I … uh, really missed you too," she whispers softly, perhaps trying to preserve the serenity of this moment between the two of you.

tock...

Milliseconds begin to feel like minutes as you desperately rack your brain, searching for an adequate continuation to the conversation.  Fortunately, just as desperation tips over into despair, none other than Aunt Kim comes to your rescue, carrying a pair of bowls in her hands and a complicated collection of emotions across her countenance.

First, she offers Nayeon her warm bowl with an even warmer smile, which Nayeon is happy to return in kind.  Then, just as you recover from being blinded by Nayeon’s radiance, Aunt Kim turns to you, deliberately holding back your bowl as she offers nothing but a quirked eyebrow and an expectant expression.

You raise your hands in surrender once more, internally cursing the developing trend as you ask, “What, Miss Aunt Kim, could you possibly be expecting from me?  Ma’am.”

You aren’t sure if it’s your sheepish expression or Aunt Kim’s sigh of exasperation that sparks it, but whatever semblance of a train of thought you’d begun crafting is sent careening off the rails by the return of that same singsong laughter that’s lifted your spirits up from the depths they’d plummeted to.

While Nayeon continues her chorus of joy, you watch as Aunt Kim’s frosty exterior thaws, causing her to gently place the bowl in your hands before pulling away just the slightest bit.

“I’m just glad things finally lined up,” Aunt Kim says with a knowing smile and another ruffling of your hair that earns another round of laughter from Nayeon.

Finally, that last embarrassment inflicted, Aunt Kim elects to leave you in peace.

After months of waiting, the culmination of all your fantasies is … a conversation.  About nothing.  About everything.  About your job as an editor at a K-Pop news / blog site and how the recent schedule change left you saddled with a writer who’d recently gotten in trouble for “not including all the members when describing a group’s latest comeback” or something.  About her job as an idol and the years of struggle and the stress of debuting and her relationships with her members and fan interactions and on and on and on.

It’s the most mundane human experience you’ve ever had, but it’s warm.  It lasts from your usual arrival time until Nayeon’s usual time of departure, yet time seems to pass by in an instant.  It’s nothing you would have expected yet everything you could possibly ask for, like a waking dream.  It’s almost unfathomable how much you enjoy yourself.

It also has to end.

“Hey,” Nayeon says suddenly, allowing her voice to soften.  “The shop’s closing soon.”

“Oh, right,” you say, feeling your smile fade for the first time in hours.

“We should, uh …”

“Yeah, let’s—”

“Yeah.”

The dusty old chairs creak against the stained floorboards of the shop as you both slowly slide them back, hoping that your sluggish movements will elongate this experience.  Each of you bids farewell to Aunt Kim in your own special way, then turn to depart.  And as you open the door for her and the brisk evening wind leaves you scrambling for the right words, it’s Nayeon who finds her courage first.

“We’ll be performing next Saturday,” she begins, speaking just loud enough for her words to reach your ears before the cruel winds can whisk them away.  “I understand if you’re busy, but—”

“I’ll be there.”

And just as the door closes and you put forth your promise, the jingle of the bells and Nayeon’s relieved laughter join in harmony, creating a melody that wraps itself around you and promises to protect you from the cold.

“I haven’t even told you where it is yet!” she exclaims, meeting your eyes once more.

“Then I should probably give you my number, no?” you counter, holding her gaze as she looks back with the softest eyes and warmest smile.

“That sounds like a great idea,” Nayeon says, eagerly pulling out her phone and handing it to you.

You quickly punch in the digits and hand it back to her, earning a frown in response.

“What is it?”

“You still haven’t told me your name.”

So, you tell her.  And she repeats it back to you.  And it’s no surprise that the sound of your name in her mouth is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard.  And you’re still reeling from that when she texts you, “Hi it’s me!🐇”.  And when you finally manage to tear your eyes from the screen, you’re met with the sight of her meekly looking down at the sidewalk below.

“Hey,” you say softly, giving her a moment to meet your eyes before opening your arms.  “You—”

Your words don’t even have a chance to be whisked away by the cruel winds before Nayeon darts over and crashes into your chest, driving the air from your lungs as she wraps her arms around you.  Instinctually, you wrap your own arms around her, holding her close and refusing to let go.

“Stay warm, okay?” you whisper, only for her ears.

“I think I’ll be just fine,” she whispers back, just as softly.

And it’s hard when you two untangle yourselves.  And it’s harder to say goodbye.  And it’s nearly impossible to turn away.  But it’s easy to turn back and look at her.  And you see Nayeon walking, no, almost skipping away down the sidewalk.  And you know that the months-long wait was worth it.  And the next ten days will feel like a decade.

But that’ll be worth the wait too.

tick…

tock…

tick…

tock…

This time, you know exactly how long it’s been.  You’ve checked the clock every hour of the past ten days, desperately awaiting the chance to see her again.  Absolutely dreading the thought of seeing her again.

Your anxiety certainly isn’t helped by the sea of lightsticks and legions of chanting fans wielding them.  Amidst this squall of rabid passion, you can’t help but feel underprepared.  You can’t help but feel nervous.  You can’t help but feel insignificant.

Fortunately, by the time you’re able to make your way up closer to the front, the performances have started and begun to wash away some of that negativity.  You lose yourself in the stages, showing support to these young adults, these kids, who’re giving everything they have to try and achieve their dreams.  It really is an enjoyable way to spend an afternoon.

Yet your throat still dries up when you hear them announce who’s performing next.  All of a sudden, the room floods, dragging you under; the blood rushes in, waves deafening you.

tick…

They come out on stage.

tock…

Your eyes can’t look anywhere else.

tick… tock…

“Nana” says something that you can’t hear.

tick…tock…

They get in position. tick..tock..tick.. They begin. ticktockticktockticktocktick

And then, just like that, it’s over.  The performance ends and the group bids the crowd farewell, leaving you with far fewer thoughts than you anticipated but far more emotions than you’re prepared for.  At the forefront of your mind, a singular idea, the catalyst of the storm, reverberates incessantly with a single realization.

Nayeon’s eyes didn't meet yours a single time throughout the whole performance, yet she spent the entire time smiling brighter than you’ve ever seen.

You somehow manage to stumble through the crowd, moving towards an exit as they roar in excitement at the announcement of the next performers, a group you’ve followed since debut and one you like quite a lot.  A group that doesn’t matter.

It’s only once you get outside, once you’re able to take a moment amidst the early evening air, that your breathing begins to slow.  It’s there that the blood pumping in your ears begins to settle.  It’s there that the vibration on your leg nearly makes you jump out of your skin.  But once you nail the three-point landing, you pull out your phone and read the new message:

Nayeon 🐇 (6:02pm):  Hey, were you able to make it?  I just peeked my head out but couldn’t find you anywhere.

You (6:03pm):  I did!  Sorry, I just stepped outside after watching your performance, needed some air

You (6:03pm):  You guys were great!

Nayeon🐇 (6:03pm):  Awww, thanks so much!!

Nayeon🐇 (6:03pm):  You should come around the back, I wanna introduce you to everyone!

Nayeon🐇 (6:04pm):  Meet me at door E35, I’ll let you in

You (6:06pm):  Sure, I’m on my way

You hit send, finally responding after needing a minute to calm the upswell of sanguine tides that continue to thrash within.  Your steps are heavy, echoing loudly throughout the packed parking lot and even louder in your mind as you begin discerning which feelings surround this storm’s catalyst.  

The unfamiliar feeling doesn’t remind you of the anxiety you’ve faced before, nor does it remind you of the self-doubt you’ve suffered in your past.  No, when you round the corner to see Nayeon’s head poking out the door, looking for you, and you hear the crowd’s thunderous applause, you know exactly which ugly emotion torments you.  And despite having no right to feel the way you do, you know that jealousy gnaws at your core.

So, when Nayeon turns and locks eyes with you, you hope your smile shows delight, not despair.  And while you don’t quite match the radiance of her reaction, you’re inviting enough for her to throw open the door and begin dashing towards you.  Fortunately, your limbs seem to have higher priorities than jealousy, as you too begin closing the distance and opening your arms, meeting her halfway and tightly wrapping your arms around her as she does the same to you.

Your ability to string together sentences escapes you as you hold her close, feeling her heartbeat hammer against your chest at as rapid a pace as your own.

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

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

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

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

“But also, thank you for coming to see us perform.  You have no idea how much I appreciate it.”

“Of course,” you say, heart penning your words before your brain can intervene.  “Anything for you.”

“Anything?” Nayeon asks incredulously, finally breaking the hug as the mischievous glint in her eye returns.  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“I stand by my word,” you respond, acting far more confidently than you truly feel.  “Besides, how dangerous could you possibly be?”

“Are you looking to find out?” she asks, smiling deviously as you see the turning gears in her head shift into overdrive.

“Maybe one day,” you say with a shrug.  “Must admit, it’s not high on my list of priorities though.”

“Oh yeah?  What’s number one?”

“Why spoil the surprise?  Gotta keep you coming back somehow.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise as Nayeon scoffs in response.  “Yeah, like that’s a concern.”

“I, uh, thanks?” you sputter, unable to do anything further as the mechanisms of your mind malfunction.

“Oh!” she exclaims, face alight with merriment and mischief alike.  “You are in danger.”

All you can do is shrug.  Why try to hide what you both know to be true?  Why not join her in laughter instead?

“Hey,” you say a few seconds later as you catch a brief glimpse of your breath in the air.  “We should get you inside, it's too cold for you to be out here in a sleeveless top and those ‘shorts’.”

“What do you mean?” Nayeon asks incredulously.  “I think my stylist absolutely nailed it today.”

“Yeah, like anything you wear could look bad,” you scoff.  “I'm just worried about you turning into a popsicle.”

“Oh?  I guess I'll just have to find someone to keep me warm,” she drawls as she walks back to the door.  “You wouldn't mind, would you?”

“Of course not.”

“Of course not,” she repeats, flashing the smallest of smirks your way before turning back and stepping up to the door.  “Anything for me, right?”

“I mean …” you begin to say.  Unfortunately, your train of thought is brought to a screeching halt by the rather rude sound of the unmoving door handle within Nayeon’s grasp.

“Wonderful,” Nayeon says, exasperation coating her words as she runs her fingers through her hair.  “And on the one day I forgot to charge my phone too.”

“You can borrow mine,” you offer, reaching into your pocket and holding it out to her.  “Can you call someone inside who can open it?”

“Yes, I can!” she says, eagerly accepting your offer and taking your phone.  “Give me a second, I'll see if Wooyeon's willing to help.”

A few moments later, after she's punched in the numbers and the phone's begun to ring, she looks up with that same cheeky smile she wears so frequently around you.

“Guess you're stuck with me a bit longer,” she dramatically declares.

“Woe is me,” you respond in kind, pressing the back of your hand to your forehead like you're about to faint.

Nayeon opens her mouth to fire back, but her reply is superseded by a muffled, vaguely familiar voice emanating out from the speaker.

“Hey, it's me,” she remarks casually, as if calling someone from a random number is a totally normal thing to do.  “I need—”

She stops mid-sentence, seemingly allowing the person on the other end to voice their apparently substantial list of frustrations at Nayeon. 

“Yeah, I, uh, sorry about slipping away like that,” Nayeon replies sheepishly as her cheeks flare in an entirely new way.  “It's a very long story that I very much don't want to get into tonight, but can you please come open door E35?  I might have locked myself out.”

It's a tense few moments of silence before Nayeon gets a response.  What you assume to merely be a few words at most still manages to shock Nayeon, leaving her wide eyed as she responds, “That's a lot to ask for just—”

Her words are suddenly cut off by what you assume to be Wooyeon's response, causing Nayeon to roll her eyes in resignation before responding, “Okay!  Sure, fine.  Both rooms, before the performance on Wednesday.  Got it.”

“Alright, see you soon,” she continues.  “And Wooyeon?  Thank you.”

“Here, thanks for letting me borrow that,” Nayeon says, handing you back your phone.

“Of course,” you respond.  “What were you two arguing about?”

“Honestly it was more bargaining than arguing,” Nayeon groans, throwing her head back in frustration.  “A trade I horribly lost, mind you.   Apparently in her mind, a three-minute walk is worth me having to clean both bedrooms at the dorms.”

“That seems … harsh,” you say, earning a shrug in response.

The silence goes unbroken for a minute.  Then another.  But when it's finally broken, it's not by words, but the chattering of teeth.  Hers.

Fortunately, your movements are so instinctual that by the time your brain has even begun to consider overthinking things, you've already taken off your jacket and wrapped it around her.  Nayeon’s shivering swiftly slows, but you leave your arm wrapped around her.  Just in case.

tick…

tock…

It ends up being ten minutes, not three, that you share in silence.  Not that either of you notice or care.

As soon as you hear the handle begin to turn, you immediately pull away, earning the smallest of whines from Nayeon before she too hears the door opening and turns towards it.

“There you are!” both girls exclaim as you see one of the other members from the earlier performance poke her head out.

“What took you so long?” Nayeon asks.  “I thought it'd take four minutes max to find us.”

“Listen, we can discuss whether or not I got lost once you get inside,” Wooyeon huffs in response.  “Come on, it's freezing out here!”

“You're telling me,” you mutter, causing Nayeon to quietly chuckle as she looks up at you with wide, apology-filled eyes.

You both follow Wooyeon inside, where Nayeon introduces you to one another and informs Wooyeon that she had invited you.  After an exchange of slightly awkward bows, Wooyeon speaks up.

“Okay, so this story involves you and a guy, alone, in the middle of a parking lot on a dark and stormy evening?  I don't care how long it is, you're telling me everything.”

“I … fine.  We can talk on the drive back,” Nayeon begrudgingly accepts.

“Good.  Speaking of, we should head back.  Now, preferably.  They're probably waiting on us,” Wooyeon says, shooting you a sympathetic glance.

“Hey, it's alright,” you tell Nayeon as she turns to look at you.  “I'm just glad I got to see you.  The performance and everything else were just icing on the cake.”

“Everything else, huh?” Wooyeon asks, seemingly more invested suddenly.  “How late is this story going to keep me up?”

“Oh relax,” Nayeon scoffs, shaking her head at Wooyeon's instigation attempts.

“But seriously,” she says to you.  “Thanks for being understanding.”

“Also, thanks for this,” Nayeon continues, smirking at you as she points to your jacket.

“Of course,” you immediately respond.  “Anything for you.”

You watch as Nayeon’s cheeky expression morphs into confusion, like your response was outside the rules of the game you’re both playing.

“I, uh, thanks?” she sputters.  But that confusion doesn't last, and a warm smile is quick to replace it.

“Here then,” she murmurs, closing the distance between you two quicker than you're able to respond.  “This is for you.”

And there's a lot of small details that you'll forget in hindsight.  Like the way Nayeon stands up on her tiptoes, or how she tilts her head just the slightest bit, or even the glittery eyeshadow that gleams in the light.  But there's one detail you'll remember.  Because you'll never forget the feeling of her soft lips against your cheek.

You can't help but hate the moment she pulls away.  But when she locks eyes with you, you're brave enough to hope that you'll feel that sensation again.

“Bye,” she whispers.

“Bye.”

“...”

“...”

“Bye?” Wooyeon says, offering you a slightly awkward wave as you turn to face her.

You look back to Nayeon, and neither of you can help but laugh at Wooyeon's shell-shocked expression.  One theatrical sigh and an eye roll later, Wooyeon turns and begins to walk away.

“Bye Wooyeon!” you call out at the retreating form.  “Hopefully next time we meet, it'll be a little more normal!”

“Hard not to be!” she calls back, earning another duet of laughter from you and Nayeon.

“I should probably follow her,” Nayeon says.  “We're performing Wednesday night, so I guess I'll see you at the shop on Thursday?  Unless you—”

“I'll be there,” you say, fighting back the jealous feelings that surge up at the thought of her performing again.

“You're the best,” she says, throwing her arms around you for the briefest of moments before turning and hurriedly following Wooyeon.  “I'll text you the location!”

“Sounds good, see you there!” you call out in response.  You can't help but feel glued to the floor as you watch her walk away, remaining motionless until she rounds a corner and leaves you alone in the hallway.

An odd mix of emotions twirls around your mind as you depart the building.  Many of them, the vast majority even, are undeniably positive.  But voices, ones eerily similar to those found in the fanchants from earlier, echo in the back of your mind and entrench those unshakable feelings of jealousy.

But even as the bus takes you away and you pray to reach home before the rain begins to fall, you know that this inner storm isn't one you can outrun.

tick…

tock…

tick…

tock…

You hope that you’re as good at hiding your emotions as you think you are.  Because the way you feel when you’re with Nayeon, your friend, when you’re both excitedly talking a little louder than you should be and occasionally have to pause the conversation to apologize to the other customers nearby, it’s euphoric.  It’s exhilarating.  It’s everything you could have ever dreamed of and more.

And it could not be more different than the way you feel when you’re with “Nana”, the idol.  Because you should still feel that euphoria, that elation.  You have no reason not to, especially since Nayeon acts the same way, even going so far as to find time somewhere in her crazy schedule when you two can meet.  The joy you find in those moments should be enough.  But your jealousy proves gluttonous, leaving you with an awful feeling in the pit of your stomach that grows harder to ignore.  It’s inescapable.  It’s everything you can’t control threatening to take away everything you hold dear.

And you haven’t the slightest fucking clue what to do.

Unfortunately, the tempest doesn’t give you much time to find a solution before boiling over.  It’s only a couple of weeks and a handful of performances later when Nayeon pulls you into a small alcove hidden amongst the towers of sound equipment and piles of wires.  Almost immediately, she begins sharing a story about a fan interaction, further fanning the flames of the ugly side of your emotions.

It’s not long before you’re overwhelmed by the turbulent emotions within.  Nayeon’s in the middle of a sentence when you lean in, cupping her cheek in one hand as you press your lips against hers.  You kiss her gently at first, but after her initial shock, she begins to kiss you back.  Firmly.  Insistently.  You let the sounds of the nearby stage abate, allowing yourself to instead lose yourself in the only senses that matter right now.

Like how the smell of her conditioner reminds you of coconuts and cherry blossoms.  Or how she tastes sweeter than honey.  Or how her lips are somehow softer than clouds.

You pull away only once oxygen deprivation forces you to, leaving you both staring at each other as you desperately attempt to catch your breath.

“I’m so sorry,” you say as soon as you’re able to.  “I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Nayeon interjects.  “Shut up and kiss me again.”

This time, she catches you off-guard as she leans in, pulling your head down slightly as she kisses you with as much intensity as before, if not more.  You’re more than willing to match her zeal, eliciting murmurs of satisfaction and small gasps for air from her as you battle back and forth.

It’s intense.  It’s electrifying.  It’s everything you’ve ever wanted and—

“There you are—oh!”

You and Nayeon hastily separate and turn to face the unexpected spectator, finding none other than poor Wooyeon and her shell-shocked expression awaiting you once again.

“Wooyeon?!  I, you, we, uh …” Nana says, trailing off mid-sentence as she steps away from you and attempts the futile task of trying to return her hair to some semblance of normalcy.

“We have to figure out a better way for you to introduce me to your friends,” you tell Nana, earning a stare of disbelief from her and an unexpected bit of melodious laughter from Wooyeon.

“You seriously do!” Wooyeon exclaims, fanning her face in an attempt to disperse the crimson flooding her cheeks.  “Honestly, I hate that they keep sending me to find you two, why can't it be Sora getting traumatized for once?”

“Because they know you're way too good at finding things for your own good, especially us apparently,” Nayeon says, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration.

“Oh, don't worry!  I won't tell …” Wooyeon trails off for a moment, looking at Nayeon slyly.  “Too many people.”

“Hey!” Nayeon exclaims.  “Be careful what you wish for, I'm sure plenty of people would be interested in my stories about you.”

“That wasn't what I'd hoped to hear, but you can write me an apology later,” Wooyeon fires back, turning her head away from Nayeon to hide the red that refuses to leave her cheeks.  “I hate to do this again, but we really do need to get going.”

Nayeon's indignation seems to flare even further as she steps closer to Wooyeon, but you can't help but chuckle at the image of the shorter Nayeon attempting to intimidate the much taller Wooyeon.  Nayeon spares a moment to glare at you before turning back to Wooyeon and saying, “Listen, I'm sure we can—”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” you interject.  “I’m sure we’ll have time to talk later, right Nayeon?”

“Oh sure, I’m positive that she’ll have plenty of time for a lovely conversation later,” Wooyeon comments, earning a glare from Nayeon that’d likely be scathing if not for the obvious embarrassment coloring her countenance.

“Hey, not so loud!” you jest, smiling just as wide as Wooyeon.  “Seriously though, I really am sorry Wooyeon.   I’ll make it up to you sometime, hopefully next time I see you.  Surely next time we meet it’ll be more normal, right?  Surely?”

“Suuurrrelyyyy,” Wooyeon responds, stringing out the single word just long enough to fit every emotion other than sincerity into its delivery.  She takes the opportunity to step away from Nayeon, who seems temporarily frozen between states of frustration, embarrassment, and something else entirely.

“Hey, no worries,” you gently tell Nayeon, taking her hands in your own and turning her to face you.  “Your members need you.”

“Besides, you should probably go willingly before Wooyeon drags you back, kicking and screaming the whole way,” you joke, smiling as Wooyeon grins and hums in agreement.

“Surely you wouldn't do that to me, right Wooyeon?” Nayeon asks, turning and pouting at her in an exaggeratedly cute manner.

“The option's never been more tempting,” Wooyeon replies, sticking out her tongue in response.

“Okay okay fine, I surrender,” Nayeon tells her, raising her hands in a manner all too familiar to you before turning back to you.  “I'll see you Saturday?”

“Wouldn't miss it for anything,” you tell Nayeon, pulling her into a tight hug that finally dispels the vast amount of tension she'd built up in such a short time.

“Neither would I,” Nayeon murmurs back before pulling away just enough to capture your lips one final time.

“Alright, let's go,” Nayeon tells Wooyeon, interlocking arms with her as they begin to walk away.

“So, for the first part of my apology, I want …” Wooyeon's voice trails off as they walk out of earshot.  But you remain in place, watching their retreating forms until they leave your field of view.  And then perhaps a minute longer, just in case.

But eventually, you also turn away and begin your departure.  The only topic on your mind as you walk, ride the bus, and then walk again on your journey to reach your home is the storm of emotions within.  On the one hand, it gave you the confidence to act in a way you wouldn't have been willing to normally, leading to an amazing and memorable moment.  But on the other hand, you can't shake the feeling that this upswell wasn't the final manifestation of these detrimental feelings.  All you can do is hope that if they do flare again, that night won’t be memorable for all the wrong reasons.

tick…

tock…

As you walk alongside Nayeon, you can’t help but marvel at how normal this new norm feels.  Even just a few weeks ago, you would have desperately lunged at the chance to see Nayeon a single time, but now, seeing her multiple times a week feels routine.  Normal.  Unremarkable?

Definitely not unremarkable, as the memory of your arms wrapped around her waist and her lips pressed against your own is just as vivid as it felt in that moment a few nights ago.  Even the restlessness of flaking on the group’s performance for the first time last night feels insignificant in comparison to the contentment you feel right now.

Which is why it’s so jarring when you’re met by a “CLOSED” sign on the shop’s door for the first time ever.

“‘Apologies for the sudden closure’,” you read aloud.  “‘We’re visiting family this weekend and will be closed for the next couple of days.’”

“‘We’ll be open once again on Monday.  We hope to see you then!’” Nana concludes.  “I mean, I hope she has a nice time, but what do we do now?”

“I mean, I’m sure we can find somewhere else that sounds good.  There are a couple places nearby that I usually order delivery from,” you offer.

“Wait, isn’t your place nearby?” she asks, earning a nod in response.  “Why don’t we just pick something up on the way and eat there?  We could watch a movie too, it’ll be fun!”

“Wait wait wait,” you say, mind reeling at the implications.  “Did you just invite yourself into my apartment?”

“Yep!” Nayeon announces, shame nowhere to be found within that radiant smile.  “Now figure out which chicken place you want to order from and let’s go!”

All you can do is laugh at the absurdity of the situation as you pull out your phone and do as she asks.  After a few minutes of walking and a quick stop to pick up food, you arrive at your apartment.  Your one-bedroom apartment might pale in comparison to some of the more upscale living areas in Seoul, but you genuinely appreciate the place you call your home, and you show it to Nayeon with pride.  After a brief tour, you both unpack the large assortment of dishes that usually accompany any Korean meal and begin your dinner.

“How was your performance last night?” you ask her, forcing yourself to smile even as the initial hints of your jealousy begin to stir.

“It went well, thank you!” Nayeon responds, smiling softly at you.  “The fan turnout was amazing, so it was super easy to enjoy performing for them.  What about you, how was your night?”

“Pretty good, thank you for asking,” you say, attempting to match the warmth of her smile but unable to due to the ice in your heart.  “It was a pretty unremarkable evening in general, but I did appreciate the chance to catch up on some much-needed sleep.”

“That’s good to hear!  I missed having you there, but I’m glad you were able to rest.”

“Thank you.  I’m sorry for not being there to support you, but at least Wooyeon got to enjoy a night where she didn’t have to hunt us down.”

“She actually told me that she was sad you weren’t there!  She said on the ride over that she was sure last night was going to be your guys’ first ‘normal’ conversation.”

“Really?  That’s unfortunate, hopefully it’ll happen next time I see her.”

“Hopefully!” Nayeon agrees, and you both go back to enjoying your dinner.  

A few minutes later, once you’ve both finished and cleared away the table, you pull out your favorite oversized blanket and lounge on the couch, inviting Nayeon to join you.  She’s more than happy to oblige, taking the remote from you and immediately pulling up some recently released horror sequel.  You can’t help but voice your surprise, but your concerns are swiftly and eagerly shut down as she gets up and begins messing with the light switches, trying different combinations in an attempt to properly set the mood.  Once she finally achieves her desired lighting, she hops back onto the couch, pulling the blanket over herself and laying against your side.

As she snuggles in closer, you do your best to relax and simply enjoy the experience.  And, if nothing else, the experience is certainly entertaining, as Nayeon seems to be terrified of the jump scares that seem to occur every couple of minutes.  Yet despite her screams, she refuses every time you ask if she wants to watch something else, insisting that she’s having a great time.  Well, for the first hour at least.

“Can I ask you something?” Nayeon says suddenly as she pauses the movie.

“Of course,” you say, your mind flooding with concerns and thoughts of worst-case outcomes.

“Is everything alright?” she asks, sitting up and turning to face you.

“Like, right now?  Couldn’t be better,” you respond, fighting through your concern as you offer a strained smile.

“Mostly just in general, but you don’t seem relaxed even now, despite the fact that we’re under this stupidly soft blanket on this insanely comfy couch,” Nayeon says, smiling for a moment before her expression shifts back to seriousness.  “But honestly, you’ve seemed kinda off for a while.  It's not all the time, but often enough for me to be concerned.  Is there something you want to talk about?”

“No, it’s okay, I—” You stop yourself, searching through the dark and finding nothing but obvious care and trust in her eyes.  So, knowing you can do better, you start over.

“I’m not going to lie to you.  I promise I won’t.  So, yeah, there’s something that’s bothering me, but it’s … hard to explain.  I don’t want to hide anything from you—and I promise I will tell you, but I don’t know the words to tell you what I want to say right now.  Can I ask you to be patient with me, just for a little bit?”

“Okay,” she says, visible concern on her face as she nods.  “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Thank you, I really appreciate it,” you say, awkwardly turning back to the TV.

You’re unable to focus on the rest of the movie, deafened by the silence between you two and shivering from a coldness unrelated to the setting sun.  Even once it’s over and Nayeon gets ready to leave, neither of you are able to put on a convincing enough performance to hide your emotions.  You exchange awkward goodbyes, waving farewell instead of hugging like you’ve always done as she walks away.

Thus, it’s anything but surprising when, mere hours later, the girl of your dreams becomes the subject of your nightmares.  Spectral visions of her pained expression haunt you as the thoughts of causing her stress, pain, and suffering bind and isolate you.  You swear you can hear the haunted cackling of the manifestations of anxiety and jealousy in your mind as they cast a spotlight on your inability to quell the storm.  And as the nightmare begins to fade and you feel yourself being dragged away from her, you finally get it.

As soon as you awaken, unsurprisingly covered in sweat, you immediately grab your phone and begin composing a series of messages.  Because you refuse to let your selfishness hurt someone else, especially Nayeon.

You (5:01am): Hey, I’m so, so sorry about last night, especially how it ended

You (5:01am):  There’s somewhere I’d love to show you, it’s a private place where we should be able to spend some time together and talk

You (5:01am):  If you have an afternoon free sometime soon, please let me know

You (5:02am):  Thanks so much

Between the restless night and the anxiety of hoping for a response, the miserable day you end up having is anything but a surprise.  You check your phone at every available opportunity, but the response you're hoping for never arrives.

It isn't until after you return home, when you're sitting alone in the stale air of your frigid, empty apartment that Nayeon answers.

Nayeon🐇 (5:01pm): Hey, I'm so sorry for taking so long to respond, there were a lot of things I ended up needing to take care of today

Nayeon🐇 (5:01pm): Does tomorrow work?  I'm sorry if it's sooner than you were expecting …

You (5:02pm): No, that would actually be perfect!  Thank you so much, I'll send you the address

You press send, feeling a great weight lifted off your shoulders as you confirm the location and time with her.  Unfortunately, just as you feel yourself begin to relax, your mind begins compiling a list of the things you’ll need for tomorrow.

So, once again, you bundle up and step outside to face the harsh winds.  But this time, as the grocery store comes into view, you're eager to brave the storm.  Because you know what's waiting for you on the other side.

tick…

tock…

Noon.  The brightest point of the day.  A time of warmth.  An important part of any day for a multitude of reasons.  Specifically, the most important part of today because it's when you plan to meet Nayeon.

You scramble onto the bus just in time, sighing in relief as you check the clock and see that you’re scheduled to arrive a bit early, just as you’d hoped.  So, with a bit of free time during the thirty-eight-minute journey awaiting you, you first check all your belongings, happily confirming that nothing's been lost in transit.  You look out the window, frowning slightly at the clouds slowly rolling across the sky, blocking out the clear sky you'd hoped would be the backdrop to this crucial day.  You cast that aside, choosing instead to focus on what you can control.  Like what exactly you want to say to her.  How you want to convey your feelings to her.

Is this a confession?  A request?  An invitation?  A farewell?  No, you know it's definitely not a farewell.  But you still don't know what exactly you want to tell her.

Actually, that's not entirely true either, because when you’re with her, you can't help but want to talk to her about anything and everything.  But just for today, you hope that you can be greedy.  You hope that you'll somehow find the exact words you need to convey how you feel.  The exact words she needs to hear.  The exact words that'll help you solve this problem.  The exact words she wants to hear.  The exact words that'll steal her heart.

A familiar little robotic voice echoes throughout the bus, informing you that you’ve arrived.  You gather up your blanket, basket, and jacket, then exit the bus and turn to walk towards your destination.

As you slip your sunglasses on, you look around, smiling slightly at the memories resurfacing at the sight of so many familiar shops from your past.  You see the pet store where you cried because your mom wouldn't buy you a chinchilla for your fifth birthday.  You see the small ice cream shop where you celebrated your first soccer tournament victory with your friends.  You see the hair salon where the stylist always teased you for growing out your hair over your ears as a teenager.

And when you turn the corner, you see the bridge where you had your first kiss.  There, standing alone, a familiar flash of gold hides beneath a cap and scarf, and the sight of her finally makes you see the truth.  Waiting for you atop that bridge, you see your first love.

“Of course.”

Your knuckles whiten as they tightly grip the wooden handle of the basket.  You feel your legs attempt to lock up, but you force yourself to break free of anxiety's cold grip and begin to close the distance.  You barely make it onto the small bridge before she perks up at the sound of your footsteps and turns to face you.

“Hey, I'm so sorry for making you wait, I tried to be here as soon as—”

“No, no, don’t worry about it,” Nayeon says, lips upturned in a hint of a smile.  “I’m used to being the first one to arrive and I only got here a couple minutes ago.”

You both pause for a moment, an uncharacteristically awkward silence filling the air between you two as you both search for the right thing to say.

“Thanks for inviting me here,” Nayeon says after a few moments.  “I've never been to this neighborhood before.”

“No, thank you for being willing to come, especially so soon!” you quickly respond.  “I’m sorry for being vague about it earlier, but this is actually where I grew up.”

“Oh really?” Nayeon asks, looking around with a renewed interest.  “I'm sure you have so many stories to tell about this place!”

“Something like that,” you say meekly, looking down at the sidewalk.  Where you remember standing as you kissed your first crush so many years ago.  Where you remember standing as your tears hit the pavement when that same girl said goodbye for the last time.  Where you stand now, hoping that you can convince the best thing that's ever happened to you to stay.

“Well then, where are we going?” Nayeon asks.  “Don't tell me you're going to ask me to cheat on Aunt Kim by going to another noodle shop!”

“Of course not!” you exclaim, feeling your vigor return as you laugh with her.

“That's probably for the best.  I don't suppose it's that ice cream store either?” Nayeon asks excitedly.

“Maybe after,” you say, chuckling at her dramatic pout.

“I did come with a plan for lunch,” you continue, holding up the basket and showing it to her.

“Oh, that's amazing!” Nayeon exclaims, finally closing the distance between you two and hugging you tightly.  “You're the cutest!”

You're initially baffled by Nayeon, who's so much shorter than you, calling you cute, but you're more than willing to bite back your response and simply hold her close.  After a minute or so, you force yourself to pull away.

“Alright, so where are we going?” Nayeon asks as her eyes eagerly explore the area.

“It's about a fifteen-minute walk from here, maybe twenty if you want me to act as a tour guide.”

“I'm in no rush when I'm with you,” Nayeon immediately responds.  “Tell me everything.”

After taking a second to make sure your heart hasn’t overloaded, you extend your hand to her.  “Alright, but only because it's you.  Follow me.”

Nayeon happily obliges, and with her hand in yours, you begin the journey upstream through the sands of time.  You spend the first few minutes of the walk pointing out the local stores and restaurants that you fondly remember, initially avoiding any mention of places associated with less flattering memories.  But as you continue on and grow more comfortable, you begin to share all of the most memorable pieces of your past, much to the delight of Nayeon, who's happy to laugh with and at you as you tell her about the defining moments of your childhood.

After roughly ten minutes, you come to a stop, staring up at one tall, gray building in particular amongst the half-dozen duplicates in the area.

“What about this place?” Nayeon asks, noticing your hesitation.

“This is … the place I grew up,” you explain.  “My parents and I lived in this apartment building until I graduated high school and went off to college.”

“Oh, so this was your home?”

“You could say that, but I don't think of it that way.  This is the place where I lived, but it isn't the place where I made the most memories.”

“Hmm, I think I understand.  Did you have a place you'd call your home instead?”

“I did,” you confirm, gripping her hand tighter.  “We're going there now.”

You continue on, allowing the air to grow quiet as you walk under the canopy of trees hanging over the path between two streets.  After a few minutes of this comfortable contemplation, you speak up.

“I know this is gonna sound weird but hear me out.”

“That's certainly one way to start a conversation,” Nayeon jokes, squeezing your hand slightly.  “But sure, I'm listening.”

“I really appreciate how easy it is to just … enjoy being with you,” you explain.  “How you make me feel comfortable even when we're being quiet, because just being together is enough.”

“Uh huh.  And you wanted to convey this to me by breaking the silence to do so?”

“Listen, I … yeah, I guess so.  I just wanted to let you know how you make me feel.  I'm far from the best with words, as I'm sure you've noticed.”

“I might have,” she jokes, pulling herself closer against your side.  “But I don't think you give yourself enough credit.”

“Oh?  Why do you say that?”

“Because I already knew you felt that way,” Nayeon says, looking up at you with bright eyes and a brighter smile.  “And because I feel the same way too.”

You share a few more minutes of soft silence as you walk along the road, traveling under the canopy until it parts and you see the clouds above.  A couple of streets and turns later, you arrive at your destination.

“This is the park where I used to play soccer,” you explain.  “To your right is where I scored a goal to win a tournament match, and if you look wayyy in the back left, you can see where I made an opponent so angry, he shoved me to the ground and nearly broke my wrist.”

“Oh wow!” Nayeon exclaims, covering her mouth as a snippet of laughter threatens to escape.  “You must have a lot of fond memories of this place.”

“Yeah …” you say, trailing off as you cast your mind back to those times ten, fifteen years ago.  “I made a lot of friends—and enemies—on these fields.”

“Do you still keep in touch with many of them?  Your friends, not your enemies,” she clarifies.

“No, almost none of either group actually,” you admit.  “It gets hard when people move away and college or work takes over your life.  I make sure to stay in contact with one, my best friend from those times, but even that’s a bit of a struggle.  I haven’t seen him in who knows how many years, just talked with him online.”

“I—wow…” Nayeon says, eyes sweeping the empty grass that you’ll always remember as full of life.  “I can’t even imagine being separated from Wooyeon.”

“Well, it’s probably different when you see each other, what, 350 days out of the year?” you point out.

“That’s fair,” she admits, finally releasing that pent-up chuckle.  “Thank you for showing me this, I’m sure it means a lot to you.”

“Of course,” you say, offering her a smile.  “Now I want to show you the place that became my home.”

“Then let’s go!” Nayeon announces, returning your smile and allowing you to lead her across the expanse that seemed endless when you were younger.

Eventually, you reach a small chain link fence, which you follow until you’re met with the familiar sight of a rusted gate with a faded combination lock.

“Let’s hope they haven’t changed this,” you say, mostly to yourself, as you input the code: 090301.

To your great joy—and mild surprise—it unlatches, allowing you to open the gate and lead Nayeon inside.  Within, you easily navigate through the branches and brush, memories coming back in a rush as you delve deeper and deeper.  After about a minute, you arrive, pulling back a branch and allowing Nayeon to pass by you into the small clearing.  Surrounded on all sides by trees, a pair of smooth, plateau-like rocks sit a couple meters from a softly flowing creek, granting you both the solitude that this private sanctum had always blessed you with.

“This is it,” you explain, nearly whispering the words as Nayeon takes in the scene.  “This was … everything, really.  This is where I came when I needed to think, needed to decompress, or … needed to know what I needed, I guess.”

“This is incredible!” Nayeon says, eyes wide as she frenetically scours every centimeter of the area, committing it to memory.  “How did you even find this place?”

“Everyone I’ve ever brought here has asked me that exact question,” you say, a sentimental smile spreading across your face.  “But I’ll tell you the same thing I told the other two; I feel like it honestly found me.  I just … went out looking for a sign of something on a night where I needed direction and found myself here.”

“This is actually the first time I’ve come here since moving away for college,” you continue.  “It’s crazy how as much as things change, they stay the same.”

“I guess so …” Nayeon says, trailing off before turning and meeting your eyes.  “Thank you for bringing me here.  I can tell this place holds a special place in your heart and I deeply appreciate you sharing it with me.”

“Of course,” you say after a moment, struggling to formulate words under the intensity of her gaze.  “You hold a special place in my heart too, so I appreciate you trusting me and coming here with me.”

Nayeon is content to let her smile be her response, so you lay out the blanket across the smooth rocks and take a seat on one, gesturing towards the other.  “Come on, let’s talk.”

“Talk?” she asks, implication obvious in her voice as her eyes harden.

“Talk,” you confirm with a nod.

“Okay,” Nayeon whispers, barely loud enough for you to hear above your pounding heartbeat as she takes a seat beside you.  She shakes her hands like they’ve gone numb, then continues, “Please, tell me what’s going on.  Everything that’s going on.”

“Nayeon, I want to make sure you know something, something very important,” you tell her, earning a nod in response.  “I care about you.  So much.  Maybe too much.  I know I haven’t been returning the warmth that you’ve shared with me, and for that, I am so sorry.”

You pause, release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, and deeply inhale before continuing, “It’s just—sometimes when I’m with you, negative emotions start building up inside me that feel like a storm threatening to pull me under.  Sometimes, I can’t help but feel jealous when I see you on stage or when you talk about your fans, because it feels like there’s so many of them and I’m just … me.  I feel like they’ve known you longer, seen more of you, and that you can’t help but prioritize them because your job depends on it.  I know I shouldn’t feel this way, and I know that it’s selfish.”

You force yourself to stop and look at her.  She sits patiently, listening attentively as she nods once again, waiting for you to continue.  So, you do.  “I want you to know, more than anything else, that none of this is your fault.  And I am so, so sorry for putting you in this position.  But after you asked me if everything was alright, I knew that I couldn’t hide it from you any longer.  I knew that if I kept this inside, it would boil over and end up hurting you in the process.  And I can’t allow that to happen—I can’t let you get hurt because of how I feel—but I can’t walk away without telling you the truth.  And I know I have no right to do this to you and I understand if you’re upset and if you want me to leave I—”

“Hey, hey, listen to me,” Nayeon says softly, cupping your face in her ever so delicate hands.  “Thank you, so much, for telling me this.  I don’t and won’t ever blame you for feeling those kinds of feelings. I wish I could tell you that I understand and that everything will be alright, but I can't.  Honestly, I probably won’t ever truly be able to.”

“But I need you to trust me when I tell you that you mean everything to me,” she continues.  “And I need you to trust me when I tell you I’m willing to face this problem as long as it’s by your side.  And when I say that we can get through this, together, I mean it with every fiber of my being and all of my heart.  All I can ask is that you put your faith in me, in yourself, and most importantly, in us.  Can you do that for me?”

“Just like that?” you ask, dumbfounded.  “I’m being completely unfair, presenting you with this problem, and you’re somehow still willing to give me more support?”

“For you?  Absolutely,” she responds resolutely.  “I don’t know if I’d ever be able to piece my heart back together if you broke it by leaving.”

“Then yes, I—Yes,” you declare, placing your hands on hers and holding them tightly.  “Absolutely, I can.  I will.  I promise.”

She beams with joy, immediately responding, “Anything for me, right?”

You gently pull her hands away from your face, interweaving your fingers with hers as you tell her, “Of course Nana, it’s always been you.  You’ve been the only thing that matters to me since the moment I saw you.  It’s always been you and always will be.”

You watch as her eyes go wide.  “You’ve never called me that before.”

“I guess so …” you say, trailing off as the realization hits you too.  “I’m sorry if you’d—“

You stop yourself as Nana untangles her fingers from yours in an instant, wrapping her arms around you and squeezing you so tightly that it’s nearly impossible to continue.

“Please say something,” you manage to get out, chuckling awkwardly.  “I kinda just poured my heart and soul out to you and I’d really appreciate you sharing your thoughts.”

“My arms are getting tired from how tightly I’m hugging you and you still need me to tell you what I’m thinking?” Nana scoffs, nuzzling into your chest and refusing to let go.

“Fair point,” you admit, contentedly wrapping your arms around her, though nowhere near as tightly as she’s hugging you.  “Thank you, Nana.”

“For what?  The hug?” she asks, somehow squeezing you even tighter.

“I mean, yes, the hug is amazing, but that isn’t what I meant,” you choke out.  “For being so good to me.  From that first day we met all the way until today, I feel like I’ve been the one with the problem and you’ve been the one with the solution.”

“Maybe, but that won’t always be the case,” Nana responds, loosening her hold on you just enough to allow you to breathe again.  “And if a storm comes and attempts to drag me under, I like to believe you’ll be there, holding on for dear life and refusing to let go.”

You don’t even try to respond verbally, instead releasing your hold on her and using your newly free hand to cup her chin.  As your thumb slowly traces patterns across the soft skin of her cheek, the rest of your body closes what little distance remains between you, allowing you to brush the faintest of kisses onto her lips.  You kiss her gently, tenderly, barely making any contact as your lips land on hers and then depart before she can kiss you back.  You repeat these featherlight flits over and over again, attempting to convey all the feelings you’ve left unsaid.  And finally, when she tightens her hold on you and mewls in frustration, you fervently capture her lips and refuse to be the one who pulls away.

Your conviction ends up just barely lasting long enough for Nana to pull away first, but the light-headedness and dizziness that blocks your view of the only thing you want to be seeing right now is a powerful reminder that oxygen is, in fact, important.  For a short while, the sound of both of you panting is the only sensation that keeps you tethered to consciousness.  But eventually, when you manage to part the darkness and open your eyes, you’re met with the sight of Nana, her chest expanding and contracting just as rapidly as yours as you both amend your oxygen deficits.  And if her smudged lipstick, flushed face, and wild, wide eyes staring into yours are any indication, you’re fairly confident she’s satisfied with your response.

“So … lunch?”

“Just like that?” she asks, dumbfounded.  “You literally take my breath away and that’s all you have to say?”

“Oh, I did have something else!” you remark, acting far more nonchalantly than you feel.  “I love you, Nana.”

It can’t be instantaneous.  But you don’t quite know how it happens either.  Your heart skips a beat when you see a blur of motion in your periphery, then you blink and you’re on the ground with Nana holding you down.  Somewhere around the second or third second of Nana kissing you, it finally connects in your mind.  She actually just tackled you off the rock.

“I—love—you—too,” Nana tells you, whispering each word into your ear in the moments between her own featherlight kisses.  Your heart soars at her reciprocation of your feelings, and as soon as she decides the time for words is over, you’re more than happy to oblige.  She melts into you as you wrap your arms around her back and return her kiss, matching her fervor and maybe even exceeding it.  You both know to pull away much sooner than you did last time, respecting the harsh lesson your bodies had given you.

“You know, a little warning would be nice,” you tease, smiling up at her.

“You’re one to talk!” Nana exclaims, hitting your chest with one small hand as she fans her crimson visage with the other.  “Don’t you know that it’s downright irresponsible to just drop something on me like that?”

“To be fair, I was under the impression that we both expected you to be the responsible one here,” you say, bringing out your puppy eyes and painting faux innocence across every centimeter of your face.

“I … you … ugh!” she grumbles, a rainbow of emotions flashing across her face before she finally leans away from you.  “Yes dear, lunch sounds wonderful.”

It’s right then when you realize another thing that makes Nana special.  She makes your cheeks hurt with how much you smile around her.  And even minutes later, after you’ve both gotten up, unpacked the basket, and you’ve both begun to eat the home cooked meals out of the little plastic containers they’re stored in, the smile she so easily coaxes out of you hasn’t left your face.

“I didn’t get to say it earlier after you blindsided me, but thank you too,” Nana says midway through your meal.

“Blindsided is a bit rich coming from you, the only person here who literally tackled the other, but I digress,” you respond, smiling warmly at her amused smirk.  “What for?”

“For being my friend,” she says, turning away from you and staring into the woods.  “It’s … hard to make friends as an idol.  There are so many expectations for how we’re meant to behave and we’re often too busy to really spend time with others.  I really appreciate your willingness to be flexible and even come to our performances, especially now that I know how it was affecting you …”

“Of course, I’m always happy to be flexible, it’s for you,” you tell her, taking her hand in yours.  “Even if you’re only able to spare a few minutes after each performance, I’m sure we could make it work.”

“But it doesn’t have to only be then, that’s not fair to either of us,” she says, squeezing your hand back.  “Days like this are worth clearing my schedule for.”

“Wait, you cleared your schedule for today?  To see me?  Yesterday?  Before you even knew if I was available?” you ask, receiving a quartet of nods in response.

“That’s why I took so long to respond yesterday, I was running around taking care of all my responsibilities in the dorm and doing the choreography practice I’d planned to do today,” Nana explains.  “I trusted that you’d make it work.  When I saw your text that early in the morning, I figured that you hadn’t been able to sleep either.”

“Wow … I … didn’t even realize … thank you for doing so much for me,” you say, idly tracing circles against the back of her hand.  “But truly, I am always happy to see you, regardless of time or circumstance.  I’m really looking forward to seeing you perform in the future; it’ll be nice to be able to really enjoy you doing what you love without jealousy blinding me.”

“That’s great to hear!” she responds, turning back and smiling at you.  “You taking the time to come see us means so much to me … the first thing I do whenever I get on stage is find you in the crowd.”

“Oh, I—oh.  Thank you,” you say, grateful that you manage to reply before those words join the rest in vacating your mind.

“Of course!” Nana responds, smiling warmly at you before you both return to your lunch.  After you both finish your meals, you look up to the sky, grimacing as you see the consolidation of the clouds as they blot out the sun.

“Hey, Nana,” you say, pointing up to the sky as she turns to you.  “We should definitely get going before we end up stuck in the rain.”

“Okay,” she says, nodding resolutely.  “Let’s get packed up and go.”

You both work together in harmony, loading the containers back into the basket in a fraction of the time it took to unload them.  You take her hand once more, hastily leading her along the trails and roads you've traversed alone countless times.

“We might have to skip the ice cream today,” you tell Nana as you both quickly walk down the streets that house so many memories.

“Oh no!  I guess you'll just have to make it up to me later …” Nana responds, smiling in understanding.

A minute or so later, just as the first few drops of rain begin to fall like your tears that night on the bridge, you arrive at the bus stop.

“This is where I need to get on the bus,” you say to Nana.  “Where are you going, can I call you a taxi?  Were you intending on someone picking you up?  What's the plan?”

Nana smiles in a very particular way, the same way she always seems to smile whenever she realizes that she knows something you don't.  “I'm going wherever you're going.  That's been my plan for a long, long time now.”

You're grateful for the rain, as the sounds of its fall are the only sounds to be found in the seconds that pass before you're able to respond.  You wrap your jacket around her shoulders, sheltering her from the cold as you stare directly into her eyes and tell her, “I … I don't know what I did to deserve the trust you put in me, but I'm incredibly grateful for it.  I promise you that I will never take it for granted.  I promise you, with every fiber of my being and all of my heart, that I will never break that trust.”

“I know,” Nana responds, her whispered words bouncing between the raindrops before barely reaching your ears.  “You showed me your heart today, the least I can do is give you mine.”

You pull Nana close and gently rest your forehead against hers.  Each falling raindrop and each flowing teardrop helps you paint the picture, telling her the thousands of words you can’t verbalize but need her to know.  In this shared moment, as echoes of your past remind you of those sorrowful tears shed so many years ago, your joyful ones return you to the present and the gift in your arms.  So, at least in this moment, you hold Nana tight, vowing to never let her go.

You pull away only when the bus arrives a few minutes later but remain hand in hand as you walk forward.  After stepping on, paying for both of your fares, and finding a pair of seats, you pull out a pair of earbuds and offer Nana one.  She's more than happy to accept, and as she rests her head on your shoulder and you queue up a series of serene love songs from your favorite artists, you hope their words can do a better job of telling Nana how much you love her.

tick…

tock…

“We're here,” you whisper to Nana, gently shaking her awake.  “Just take my hand, I'll lead you home.”

“Okay,” she murmurs, interweaving her fingers with yours and following you through the bus, down the steps, and into the monsoon that immediately jolts her back into consciousness.

“Oookaaayyyy, I'm up!” Nana declares, pulling your jacket tight against her small frame.  “Lead the way, I don't think these pants are gonna do much against a storm like this!”

You take off immediately, leading her as quickly as you can down the sidewalks before eventually stopping at an interaction where you ask her, “But really, why does it always seem like your outfits are in no way at all suited to the weather?”

“Because my outfit looks cute!” Nana exclaims indignantly.  “And you of all people should be glad that’s my priority!”

“Of course, you're right,” you respond, kissing her on the nose in apology.  “Then again, I'm convinced you'd make anything look good, but I do genuinely appreciate that you care and that you put thought into your outfits.  It makes me feel special.”

The crosswalk finally flashes green, and you take off once again, leading Nana towards your apartment as she scolds you.  “Seriously, you can't just keep saying things like that so casually!  There are at least four heartwarming things in that statement that make me want to kiss you, but your question was so stupid that I still kinda want to slap you!  And this stupid rain isn’t helping anything at all!  And I’m cold!  Ugh!”

You're grateful that you're ahead of Nana, because you know that if she sees the goofy smile on your face, you'll be in big trouble.  “Okay dear, I'm sorry I made you feel that way,”  you respond, speaking in the most soothing tone possible.  “We’re almost to my apartment, where it’ll be n-nice and warm, and w-we’ll make everything better.  I p-promise.”

Neither of you speak another word for the remainder of your mad dash, too busy fighting off the shivers to do so.  After a few more minutes, you arrive back at your home, where you tear the key from your pocket, hurriedly unlock the door, and shepherd her inside.

“O-Okay, I’m g-going to start the sh-shower f-for you and g-grab a dry set of clothes for y-you to change into, please f-feel free to d-discard that j-jacket l-literally anywhere,” you manage to tell Nana, taking off as she begins to do as you request.

You fight off the shivers as you quickly dash around your apartment, flipping the shower on and grabbing yourself a towel before darting into your bedroom and grabbing some dry clothes for both of you, then returning to Nana.

“Okay, t-the shower should b-b-be nice and h-hot, and there’s a c-clean towel in t-t-there y-you can u-use,” you stammer as you round the corner.  “H-Here’s something t-to … change … into …”

Your voice escapes you as you see her, back turned as she watches the rain mercilessly paint the cobblestone.  You first see the soaked cotton of her top and how it shakes as her small figure shivers in the cold.  But that isn’t what catches your eye and leaves you dizzy.  It’s the way her pants have tightened, showcasing the sculpted definition of her thighs and how they flow upwards to display the perfectly round curve of her ass.

As she turns, you force yourself to pull your gaze upwards, feeling your face flush as your pulse continues to quicken.  You drag your eyes up her body, past her toned stomach that hides beneath the sopping garments, past her pert breasts and stiff nipples that strain against the soaked fabric, past her shaking shoulders and kissable neck and diamond jawline and roseate lips and adorable nose until finally you meet those chocolate eyes that stare back at you.

“T-Thank you s-s-soooo m-much,” Nana responds, fighting off her own shivers as she takes the clothes from you, then darts off towards the warmth awaiting her, leaving you frozen in more ways than one.

You do your best to ignore how difficult it is to remove your soaked pants, especially as they cling to your skin and especially because of your hardening erection that’s impossible to miss.  After removing all of your drenched attire and placing the dripping bundle alongside the jacket you loaned Nana, you attempt to dry yourself off, saturating the towel with frigid water far quicker than you’d hoped you would.  Once you’re sure that you’ve gotten your money’s worth, you add the towel to the pile in the sink, then put on the pajamas you’d grabbed and turn up the thermostat to its highest setting.

Once you're confident that you’ve done all you can, you collapse, couch creaking in protest at the impact.  In this moment to breathe, the events of the day begin to hit you, flashing across your mind in sync with the droplets of rain against your window.  You think of all the places that defined your childhood.  You think of faces long forgotten.  You think of faces you’ll never forget.  You think of echoes.  You think of her atop that bridge.  You think of her atop that bridge.  You think of all the words that escaped your lips.  You think of Nana’s small hands lifting the weight of the world off your shoulders.  You think of her body on top of yours as she pinned you down with kisses.  You think of her body.  You think of the cold.  You think of heat.  You think of your soaked clothes clinging to your skin.  You think of Nana’s soaked clothes clinging to her skin.  You think of Nana, dripping wet.  You think of Nana, dripping wet.

As you stare out the window, your mind vaguely registers the sound of a hair dryer.  But soon even that sense joins the others, consumed with the thoughts of Nana.  One storm for another.  You’re not even sure if the words escape your lips.

The door opens, and you get up to face Nana.  She’s radiant, each strand of gold and each centimeter of porcelain glowing in the dim light of your apartment.  She’s wearing glasses.  She’s wearing your favorite shirt.  She’s wearing nothing else.

“Hey,” she whispers, somehow slotting seventy emotions into that single syllable as it floats over to you.

You've always viewed Nana as pretty.  She's always been cute.  She'll never not be beautiful.  But as you fight off the arctic chill that permeates your bones, you realize you've never looked at her this way.  You can't help but notice how hot she is.  You see Nana as sexy for the first time.

“Hey,” she calls again, tilting her head and leaning to the side.  It’s unfair, the way she sinks against the doorframe.  It’s immoral, the way she makes herself look even smaller as she hides in the folds of your shirt.  It’s incomprehensible, the way the wide rims of her glasses make her pleading eyes look even bigger.  It’s criminal, the way she hides her intent behind that innocent smile.

“Are you just gonna sit there with your jaw on the floor for the rest of the night, or are you going to say something?”

“N-Nana, if you could s-see what I see, y-you’d be speechless t-too,” you manage to get out, unable to suppress the shivers as you respond.

“Well, you could walk into the bathroom that I might have sorta turned into a sauna,” Nana offers, the smallest of smiles beginning to show.

“Or …” she continues, taking her time as she closes the distance between you two.  “I could warm you up …”

Your arms wrap around her instinctually as she presses her body against you.  You can feel the sculpted frame hidden beneath the oversized shirt.  You can feel the tension.  You can feel the heat.  And as your eyes drift down to her lips, you can feel your reservations flying out the window to join the falling rain.

You kiss her.  Gently.  Delicately.  And she shoves you backwards onto the couch.

“Absolutely not,” Nana declares, climbing into your lap.  She wraps her arms around your neck, licking her lips hungrily before pulling you close.  Within a second of her claiming your lips with her own and beginning to grind against your lower half, any questions you might have had join your reservations on the pavement outside.  You match her intensity, running your tongue along her lips patiently, then expectantly, and claim her mouth as soon as she lets you in.  Your hands roam, dragging your fingers like ice cubes across her hips and down her thighs as she hisses into your mouth.

You work your way up her body, past her waistline and under your her shirt.  You travel further, past the lean abs she’s worked so hard to sculpt, across the ridges and valleys of her expanding and contracting rib cage, all the way until the tips of your fingers brush the sensitive underside of her breasts.  The whimper that escapes her mouth into yours is immediate.  It’s needy.  It’s pathetic.  It’s the hottest sound you’ve ever heard.

The soft, malleable skin becomes a pair of perfect handfuls as you explore the fringes of Nana’s breasts, sending sparks through her synapses and shockwaves down her spine.  You break away from her kiss, just for a moment, just long enough to watch her collapse onto you as you finally knead her swollen nipples between your fingers.  You take the opportunity to access the curve of her neck, mentally noting where earns the loudest moans as you suck, kiss, and nip the sensitive skin.

“Look at you, so desperate,” you whisper into her ear, grinding your hips against hers and forcing her to moan.  “I’ve barely even touched you, but somehow you’re even more drenched than earlier.”

“And you know what’s the worst part?” you murmur, stretching a single second across the tension before continuing.  “That’s nothing compared to what you’re doing to me.  I’ve never been so hard in my fucking life.”

“You—you’re—OH!!!”

You know what you’re doing when you latch onto that particular spot on the base of her neck; that her response is going to be lost, lost in the sound of her moan echoing against your walls.  But you also know what she wanted to verbalize, what her body has been telling you as it tenses up even further.  So, when you feel her shaking, on the precipice, you’re more than willing to lend a hand.  You’re happy to detach from her breast, brushing against her sensitive folds with the back of your hand.  And so, when you’re kind enough to simply graze her clit with an icy fingernail, you also make sure to hold her as she comes undone.

The first orgasm you give Nana is a cinematic experience, with a soundtrack of the most ungodly of moans alongside her quivering limbs and the deathly grip on your shoulders as if you’re the only thing keeping her afloat.  You gently trace circles along her back, whispering sweet nothings into her ear and holding her as she rides out the high.  You wait, long after the quivering has ceased and she’s unclenched her hands, long enough for her to meet your eyes and show you that the fog has lifted.

“Hey,” you murmur, goofy grin growing wider as you see her eyes flash with outrage.

“You can’t keep doing this!” Nana exclaims, huffing in frustration when all you have to offer is your gleaming smile.  “You can’t just blow my mind and change my life and end it with a ‘Hey’!”

“Who said that was the end?” you ask, humor discarded as your tone drops.  “You did what you said you would, now we’re both hot and bothered.”  You look into her eyes, see the recognition and excitement.  Then, you see the desire reignite as you thrust upwards, teasing her sex with only a bit of friction.  “What are you going to do about it?”

Nana meets the challenge with equal passion, whispering into your ear, “I’m going to show you a side of me that no one has ever seen before.”

Having adequately spiked your blood pressure, Nana climbs off you, moving with idol-like grace as she sashays towards your bedroom door.  Having reached the end of the runway, she turns, throwing off her shirt and modeling her pristine form for you.  She’s divine.  You somehow tear your eyes away from her flawless figure, staring instead into her molten eyes.  She captures her bottom lip between her teeth, slowly dragging them across the soft, pink skin before twisting her innocuous expression into one of sinister glee.  She’s sin incarnate.

Then, she’s gone, retreated back into your bedroom.  You’re off the couch in a blur, flinging off your shirt and pajama bottoms, discarding the soaked pieces of clothing as they join the rest.  You round the corner, entering your bedroom, and you have to pinch yourself to make sure you aren’t dreaming.

You’ve seen Nana dozens of times at this point, seen her in outfits ranging from luxury goods to school uniforms to casual attire to athletic wear.  You’ve seen her when doted on by professional stylists, just after a dance practice, and everywhere in-between.  But when you see her here, in your bed, wearing nothing but a smile and absolutely glistening in anticipation, you swear your heart stops.

You climb onto the bed; you climb on top of her.  You kiss her.  Not lightly, not lustfully, but lovingly.  And when she kisses you back, you feel that exact same longing.  Despite the sincerity in the kiss, you don’t feel the heat in the room diminish at all.  No, you just realize it’s everburning.

You pull away.  Barely.  Just enough room for words.  Just far enough to see her eyes.

“No interruptions this time, it's just you and me,” you murmur, causing her to shudder in anticipation right up until a thunderclap echoes throughout the apartment and makes you both jump.

“We really need to work on our timing, don’t we?” Nana jokes, harmonious laughter escaping her as you see her anticipation, affection, and arousal merge, forming the euphoric expression she wears earnestly.

“Yeah, so maybe one interruption,” you say, laughing along with her until her mess of giggles comes to an end.  

“But you are mine, Nana,” you whisper, your hot breath inflaming her senses as each syllable reaches her ears.  “I am yours, and tonight belongs to no one else.  Just us.  Tonight is ours.”

“Perfect,” she whispers back, that single word a lit match she drops directly into your heart.  “What now?”

“Show me,” you say, rolling you both and flipping your positions so she’s atop you.  You give her control.  Earnestly.  You give her your trust.  Easily.  You give her your all.  You give her everything.

When she takes your length in her hand, giving you your first hints of pleasure, you groan in relief.  When she lines you up with her entrance and drips arousal onto your tip, you inhale through your teeth, hissing as if you’d been burned.  And when she lowers herself onto you and takes you inside her, it literally takes your breath away.

“Fuuuck…” Nana hisses, sending your heart rate into the stratosphere.  “It feels … so … fucking … amazing …”

“You’re incredible Nana,” you growl through gritted teeth, hands latching onto her hips and gripping tighter than you probably should.  But any expectation of you being perfectly in control of yourself is entirely unreasonable when she’s moving like this, taking you deeper and deeper into her warmth at an agonizingly slow pace.  You can’t help it; her face, her body, the way she quivers - you can’t tear your eyes away, not when you see the beads of sweat splattered across her furrowed brow.  Not when you can practically hear the grinding of her tensed jaw.  And certainly not when her closed eyelids hide those rich chocolate eyes.

“Take your time,” you whisper soothingly.  “No need to rush, I’ll stay here forever as long as it’s with you.”  You see some of the tension evaporate from her shoulders, but that does nothing for the vice grip she still has around your cock.  Her progress accelerates slightly, taking on more and more of you with each passing moment before finally, finally your hips collide.

“There we go,” Nana mumbles, reopening her eyes and regaining a bit of that hubris you’ve come to know and … like.  Having finally reached her destination, you can see the gears turning in Nana’s head as she starts to experiment, rolling her hips against yours and exploring all the possible sensations she can experience.  One particular angle catches you off guard, causes you to moan even louder than before.  You see it in her eyes, see how they immediately ignite.  She repeats the motion, ripping another of those moans from deep within your chest as you see that gleefully sinister smile return.

The image of Nana bouncing up and down on your cock is obscene yet puts all other art to shame with its beauty.  You simultaneously appreciate and despise her dancing background as she moves with unyielding precision.  She places her hands on your shoulders as she continues exploring, utilizing her flexibility and strength to adjust her position and flex her muscles in ways you’d never thought possible, much less experienced.

“Oh my god Nana …” Your words trail off, lost to the pleasures of her latest findings, but they fan the flames all the same.

“Tell me how good that feels,” Nana purrs, punctuating her point by sliding herself back down onto the base of your cock.  Then again.  And again.  And again.

“It feels so—FUCK!—ing good,” you manage to choke out, throwing your head back in pleasure.  Almost instantly, Nana grabs you by the chin, pulling you forward and making it impossible to look anywhere else.

“Don’t you dare look anywhere else,” she growls, sending a new sensation down your spine as her ceaseless riding continues to chip away at your sanity.  “Tell me how I make you feel.”

“You—ugh!” Words escape you, your mind unable to comprehend things other than pleasure and pain and Nana.  Your grip tightens, tight enough to bruise, as you desperately try to cling to something, anything.  “You feel amazing.”

“What else?” Nana asks, picking up the pace.

“You drive me insane,” you tell her, sparing her hips further punishment as you focus on her breasts once again.

“Tell me more,” she demands, riding you even faster.

“You’re unbelievable!” you yell, mustering what little oxygen remains as you match her volume.

“More.”  Even faster.

“You’re perfect,” you say, voice dropping as her pitch rises.

“More!”  Faster.

“I love how you make me feel.”  Even quieter.

“More, more!!” she demands greedily, hips bouncing at a delirious pace as her face tenses once more.

“I love you Nana,” you whisper sweetly.  But you refuse to let the sentiment disrupt the moment, following her hips up as you thrust into her and throw off her rhythm.  “Cum for me.”

“FUCK—”

Nana somehow manages the impossible, staring through you with misty eyes as she succumbs to pleasure, drenching your lower half and the sheets below in her nectar as her orgasm violently overtakes her.  It takes everything you have to remain motionless, cock painfully throbbing as you try not to overwhelm her.  Each of you experiences the seconds as if they were lifetimes, you on the verge of pleasure and her well over the edge of it.

“You didn’t cum?” Nana asks, shifting slightly in your lap and forcing you to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from exploding inside her right then.  She raises herself off of you, maintaining eye contact the entire time she moves away and positions herself between your legs.  As she leans forward, opening her mouth and letting her warm breaths torment your torturously erect shaft further, she has the audacity to wink at you.

“Time to change that.”

The sight of her fucking tongue teasing the sensitive skin of your cock all the way from base to head is ungodly, and you know immediately, no camera flash required, that this image will be burned into your mind for all eternity.  It’s almost demeaning how casually she destroys you, idly wrapping her fingers around your shaft as her tongue begins to swirl around the head of your cock.  “Fucking hell Nana …”

If your words affect her, she’s doing a damned good job hiding it, drooling unapologetically all over the fingers that twist and pump your shaft, priming it as her mouth continues to work its way further and further down.  And all the while, the entire time she molds you to her desires like putty in her hands, she holds your eyes.  Lovingly.  Expectantly.  Enticingly.  

“I’m close …” You try to warn her, but her hum in response sends an all-new type of shock all the way down your shaft, cutting off any further waste of oxygen.  Your hands tangle into your sheets, threatening to shred them in your grip as you fight to keep the desire to let loose and absolutely defile her throat.  “I’m gonna—”

Nana ignores your words, listening to the signs of your body as she delicately unwraps her small hand from around your shaft.  The faintest flicker of disappointment flashes in the back of your mind, but it’s immediately eradicated as Nana forces herself downwards, catching you completely off-guard as she takes you into her throat, consuming you entirely.

“NANA!!”  She rips her name out from deep within you, sending you soaring over the edge of orgasm as you are unmade by pleasure.  Your body tenses and contracts, overwhelming pleasure pulsating from head to toe and every centimeter in between.  Wave after wave after wave after wave of your cum fires into her mouth, but you’re unable to bear witness as your eyelids shield you from the unholy sight.  It’s so much, so fast, that it drives you to the perfect intersection of pain and pleasure, leaving you unable to do anything but feel.

Eventually, your orgasm comes to an end, as all things must.  The first thing you do is open your eyes to see Nana, mouth still snugly around your cock as she swallows the last of drops of your deluge.  The second thing you do is remember to breathe.  You watch as she detaches herself from your cock, then joins you, for the second time today, in an agonizing minute of shaking shoulders and heaving chests as you both attempt to force enough oxygen into your lungs to be able to speak.  Fortunately, you’re both able to.  You just happen to do so first.

“So … dinner?  Or are you good … after …”

“I’m actually going to murder you,” she mutters, and you don’t even try to stop the laughter that forces its way out.

“You know, I was going to be upset at you for the whole ‘not maintaining eye contact’ thing,” Nana says with a smile of her own, climbing up the bed to lay against your side.  “But considering I’m the one that made you nearly black out, I’ll give you a pass this time.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” you offer, smiling sheepishly as you wrap an arm around her.  “But you were—”

“Yeah, uh …” she interjects, trailing off as her rapid pulse quickly delivers a crimson flush to her cheeks.  “I don’t know … it was just really nice—and really hot—to hear you say those things about me.”

“Any time,” you say as you lean in, gently kissing her on the crown of her head.  “By the way, did you … I didn’t really see …”

“Oh, this?” Nana asks, opening her mouth wide to show you the tongue and walls, unbesmirched by white.  “I’m sure you agree that was pretty hot, but I guess that means you don’t wanna—”

You roll over slightly, propping yourself up on your elbows as you climb over her once more, leaning down and cutting her sentence short as you capture her lips.  A small squeak of surprise escapes before she matches your passion, wrapping her arms around your neck as your tongues begin to dance.  As the intensity rises your heartbeat follows suit, sending blood all throughout your body and especially one place in particular.

“Not done, huh?” Nana murmurs, capturing your bottom lip between her teeth and gently sucking on it as she looks at you with her seductress’ gaze.

“For you?  Never,” you murmur back, intent and invitation clear in your eyes.

“We’ll have to test that sometime …” Nana responds, mirth and mischief manifesting in her smile as she releases your lip.  “For now though … show me.”

The kiss you leave on her lips is fleeting, acting more as a palate cleanser than any declaration or escalation.  You grab a pillow with one hand, lifting Nana up with the other and placing it under the small of her back as you set the stage.  With a bit of additional leverage gained and anticipation built, you line yourself up with her entrance, looking to Nana who nods in confirmation as you enter her once again.

You push further into her slowly, eager to reach the previous round’s intensity but mindful of her pleasure as her tightness suffocates your shaft.  Ravenous for more, you lean in, greeted by the mixed scents of coconuts and cherry blossoms and sweat and everything else about her that makes your head spin.  You’re quick to attack her neck again, latching onto one of the many spots you noted earlier and sucking relentlessly.

“Wait wait wait, no marks!” Nana exclaims, placing her hands on your shoulders and pushing you away from your target.

“I’m so sorry, I should have—” Your apology grinds to a halt as Nana, sinful gaze meeting your own, delicately lays a single finger against your lips.

“No … visible marks,” she clarifies, smirking seductively as she lowers her arms and offers you free reign once more.

You’re more than happy to seize the opportunity, capturing one of her nipples between your teeth and beginning your oral assault as you suck, swirl, and tease her with your tongue.  One hand begins exploring her body, creating only the tiniest bit of contact as it glides over each area of her flawless skin, searching for unexpected pleasure points anywhere you can reach.

“Be vocal,” you murmur, breath rolling like fog over her breast.  “I want nothing more than to know every single spot on your body that drives you wild.”

You see out of the corner of your eyes Nana opening her mouth, as if to respond, but as your hips collide once more and you fully bury your length inside of her, a deep, heady moan bulldozes through her best laid plans and tears free instead.  As you begin to thrust faster, deeper, you sink your other hand below her waistline, searching only a moment before finding the sensitive bud of her clit and adding it to your list of ministrations.

“Tell me Nana, tell me what feels good,” you say, soothing voice a stark contrast to the frenetic pace at which you chase her pleasure.

“Your fucking mouth, I love how you suck on my—ugh!” Another day, you’d feel cruel for cutting her off so rudely, but honestly, who could blame you for doing what she asks?  “And the way you feel inside me, thrusting in so deep …”  This time, it’s a sharp intake of air, but you’re happy to earn another moan as you thrust deep inside her again.  Then again, for good measure.  One more time.  “And I love the way you … with your hand … on my thigh … yesssss …”  You’ll have to make a special note for that one, apparently figure eights are the best pattern to trace along the inside of her thighs.  Who knew?

You get lost in the perfection that is Nana, thrusting wildly as you ride the high all the way up to the summit.  You mar her flawless skin with marks of desire, leave little reminders of pleasure where no one else will see them.  You feast on her skin, attempting to satiate a hunger you both know will never be sated.  Your hands roam as well, acting with a mind of their own as one roams every uncharted inch of her skin while the other stays glued between her thighs, toying mercilessly with her most sensitive area.  It’s plenty for you to keep track of, but if Nana’s reactions are anything to go by, it’s bordering on too much for her to handle.

Time’s a relative thing in general, but here, in the bedroom with Nana, there’s no eternity better spent.  You chase your pleasures together, call and response, back and forth, her and you, united as one.  You cherish the opportunity to care for Nana for once, bringing her pleasure in as many ways as possible.  “Fuck!”  You seek those profanities.  “Oh god—”  You crave those indecencies.  “You’re gonna make me …”  You hunt her peaks, and as she thrashes, shakes, quivers, and cries in your arms, you’re there to hold her the whole way down.

“Nana, I’m getting close,” you tell her, growing delirious as pleasure begins to overwhelm you.  “Where—”

“I swear to god if you cum anywhere other than inside of me …” Nana threatens, though her glassy eyes and lolled tongue diminish the impact a bit.

You feel Nana’s legs wrap around your waist, pulling you in as her arms do the same.  Her lips claim yours, capturing any senses that weren’t already completely overwhelmed by her and her alone.  As you lean into her, tongues dancing as your body disconnects from your mind, pleasure shoots through your veins like a shot or seventy of adrenaline.  If you were any more coherent, you might’ve been able to enjoy the details, like the way your cock’s twitching or the way Nana shudders slightly each time you fire another shot into her or the way you keep pumping, refusing to let any of your cum go anywhere but as deep as you can fuck it inside her.  Unfortunately, all you experience is the taste of Nana on your lips and the red, foggy haze of rapture that permeates your fucking soul.  Unlucky, really.

Your orgasm ends, eventually.  You force yourself to pull away, force yourself to focus so that you can see the elated expression of a well-fucked Nana.  There’s the faintest hint of tears in the corners of her eyes, each one earned at her own apex of pleasure.  You withdraw further, pulling out of her fully, then lay beside her and pull her into your arms.

“Hey there beautiful, you alright?”

“Not the word I would use,” Nana murmurs into your chest.  “We should get caught in the rain more often …”

Once again, quiet laughter escapes you, as it always seems to when you’re with Nana.  “I’ll keep that in mind,” you promise.  “In the meantime, we should probably get cleaned up and showered.”

“Not yet …” Nana groans, lightly smacking you like you’re an alarm clock disrupting her beauty sleep.

“Okay okay, no rush,” you respond, pulling her close and allowing the sounds of the gentle rain to fill the room.  You treasure the tranquility, basking in the simple sensations of her hands in yours and her soft breaths against your chest.  Many stanzas later, the storm’s song softens, then slowly comes to a close, but you stay there together, finding solace in each other’s embrace.  Eventually, once Nana’s fully recovered, you get up to turn the shower on and begin grabbing things, giving her everything she needs: tissues, wipes, water, hugs, kisses, and your undivided attention.

“I know this is an incredibly egotistical question, but can you walk?” you ask, smiling sheepishly as she rolls her eyes.  “Or do you want me to carry you?”

“Yes, I can, but carry me anyways,” Nana declares, throwing open her arms and waiting expectantly.

“As you wish,” you declare with a flourish, bowing deeply before scooping Nana into your arms and carrying her bridal style into the bathroom.

“Showering together?” she asks suggestively and shamelessly.

“Showering together,” you reply warmly, setting her down and testing the water.  “Let me spoil you for a bit, no need to rush.”

“Very well,” she accepts, stepping into the shower.  “Now hurry and get in here so I don’t have to warm you up all over again.”

“Yes ma’am,” you respond, climbing in after her.  You’ve never been more grateful for your replacement shower head and its absurd water pressure, though you make sure to get close to Nana just in case.

Even as you two rinse yourselves off, you can’t help but be mesmerized by the water flowing down Nana’s perfect figure.  You watch as the many drops coat each long strand of her flowing golden locks, run down each beautiful feature that comprises her face, then finally succumbs to gravity after tracing every last millimeter of her jawline.  From there, you follow their journey as they land on her collarbone and continue on into sacred territory.  Thousands of individual droplets gently caress the curvature of her breasts as they pass by, while thousands more race down the soft skin of the arms and hands that inspire so many fans to dream of their embrace.  For those droplets lucky enough to remain attached after traveling past her abs and below her waist, a pair of gently toned legs defined by years upon years of dance await.  Finally, between the pale skin of her inner thighs, the perfectly shaven holy place of indecent desires and fantasies awaits a lucky few.  Lucky you.

“You’re staring again,” Nana says, breaking you out of your reverie as she smiles shyly.

“Nana, I absolutely am,” you admit freely, shamelessly.  “You’re right here in front of me and I still can’t believe you’re real.”

“Oh, um … thanks,” Nana mumbles, turning away from you just as you see a familiar splash of crimson.

“You’re welcome, now hold still,” you tell her, grabbing a bottle of conditioner and squeezing some into your hand.  “Let me wash your hair.”

“Oh!  I mean, okay …”

You spread the viscous liquid across your hands, then begin massaging it into the many, many strands of gold that flow together and form her hair.  “This conditioner worked wonderfully back when I had lighter highlights, so hopefully it should be fine for you too.”

You trail off, focusing on the task at hand and the silk between your fingertips, but you can’t help but add, “But I wouldn’t mind buying some of whatever you normally use and keeping it here … just in case.”

Nana turns back, glaring at you for a moment before allowing you to continue.  “That’s a sentence with a whole lot of implications, but you’re cute so I’ll let you get away with it.”

“Good to know!  I promise to not use that information responsibly,” you jest, grinning uncontrollably as Nana huffs in indignation.  “Okay, let that sit for a couple minutes before rinsing it out.”

Nana turns, stepping closer to you and keeping her hair out of the waterflow as she does so.  “Can I wash yours?”

“Of course,” you tell her, handing her the bottle before closing your eyes and leaning down to allow her easier access.

“Thank you …” she murmurs.  After a few anticipatory moments in the dark, you feel her hands start working their way across your head, massaging you and coating your own strands in that same liquid that you apply on a daily basis, but have never experienced like this.

A whine slips past your lips as she finishes and pulls away, causing a score of giggles to emerge as you open your eyes to see the adorable, joyous expression of Nana’s smiling face.  “So, what’s next?”

“I’m going to wash my body with this,” you tell her, holding up a bottle of body wash as you hand her a different one.  “And you can wash yourself with that, because if I end up putting my hands all over your body, we’re never getting out of here.”

“You’re probably right,” Nana admits, mischief taking over her smile.  “However …”

“You’re not the one paying the water bill, shush!” you exclaim, turning away and beginning to lather yourself up.  Nana’s laughter rings out once more, reverberating off the tight walls of your shower as she too begins to wash herself of the improprieties that cover every centimeter of each of your bodies.

Somehow, you both manage to behave, rinsing yourselves off before getting out and toweling yourselves dry.  Nana sits as you brush her hair like Rapunzel, blow drying it slowly as you meticulously work your way through her golden mane.  It isn’t easy to find a comfortable set of clothes for her to wear, but with a pair of rolled pant legs and a hair-tied shirt, you’re able to make do.  Together, you eagerly order delivery from your favorite chicken restaurant, and while you’re waiting, begin the process of cleaning up.

Nana helps you strip your sheets, the most traumatized victims of your shared endeavors, off your bed, then assists you in wrangling a new set onto the mattress.  Your heart glows with warmth at how right it feels to perform such a mundane household activity with her, even as the fitted sheet snaps up once again and nearly hits you in the face.  Nana’s laughter rings out first, but yours is close behind, warding off any frustration as you enjoy the little simplicities of spending time with her.  You both clean up your kitchen, sending your soaked clothes to join your laundry as hers go into the wash, cleansing them of the rain’s influence as you both settle on the couch.

“I think that’s everything we needed to take care of,” you say, just as a thought crosses your mind.  “Do we need to get you some—”

“Don’t worry, I’ve been taking precautions for a bit.  You know, just in case,” Nana tells you, tone relaxed but eyes alight with mischief.

“You—what—just in case?!” you sputter.  “Since when?!”

“That night Wooyeon walked in on us,” Nana remarks casually.  “I wasn’t gonna let you kiss me like that without finishing the job.”

You’re frozen in silence, unsure whether to follow-up with confusion, accusations, questions, gratitude, or something else entirely, but the familiar cadence of the delivery man’s knocks on the door saves you from needing an answer.  After enjoying your meals and making some light conversation, you both end up on your insanely comfy couch, curled up together under your stupidly soft blanket as Nana selects another movie, this time opting for a cheesy romance flick that she swears is different from the rest.  Ultimately, she’s not wrong, as any experience shared with Nana ends up being far more enjoyable than the alternatives, and you end up enjoying yourself quite a bit.  You lay with her, laugh with her, and hold her close as you wipe away her tears.

Enthralled by Nana and her investment in the movie, you barely even notice as the hours pass, the clouds dissipate, and the sun shines bright for a fleeting flash before disappearing below the skyline.  It’s not until the movie finishes, fading to black for the final time, that you note the darkness that’s overtaken the world outside your little corner of paradise.  After confirming with her other members that she’s free tomorrow, Nana joins you getting ready for bed.

“Here, this has barely been used,” you tell her, handing her a toothbrush and smiling as a thought enters your mind.  “I guess I’ll just have to get you one of those too.”

“You just might have to,” Nana says, wide grin mirroring your own as you both begin your nightly routines.

A short while later, after locking up and killing all the lights, you join Nana in bed.  It’s an odd sensation as you turn off your alarm clock, something you haven’t done in months, maybe even years, but when you see the weary eyes Nana’s fighting to keep open, you decide it’s for the best.  You turn to her, exchanging good night’s and I love you’s before she closes in, kissing you tenderly before turning away and snuggling close against your body.  You two form a perfect fit as you hold her, refusing to let go even as sleep overtakes you.  Tonight, you have neither prayers nor requests, simply gratitude for the blessing in your arms.  Tonight, you dream of neither girl nor ghost, simply a warm silence that wraps itself around you in a familiar embrace.

tick…

tock…

For once, for the first time in a long, long while, your awakening is not sudden, but serene.  Your eyes slowly open, witnessing the twin golden glows that illuminate the tranquil space in their soft, mellow light.  You’re forced to squint slightly at the brightness of the rays of light filtering through the window, but even the rising sun pales in comparison to the radiance resting within your embrace.  Nana’s resting expression is one of bliss, subtle curves of a smile hidden at the edges of her lips even as she leisurely draws breath.

Somehow, sometime in the middle of the night, she seems to have interwoven your hand with hers, clutching it tightly against her breast as she lies dormant.  You can’t help but feel, in this moment, it seems almost too perfect to be a dream.  Like your mind wouldn’t even entertain this as achievable in a best-case scenario.  Yet here you are, blessed beyond imagination.

You get an idea, hoping to surprise her with breakfast.  You slowly, delicately attempt to remove your hand from hers, but are stopped suddenly as her grip tightens.  “Stopppp …”

“You’re awake?” you ask in surprise.

“Of course, since before you woke up,” Nana murmurs, pulling you closer.  “I just wanted you to hold me longer.”

“Nana, I …”  Your words trail off, your mind unable to even form words as you try to comprehend how you could possibly deserve something this perfect.  “Thank you … Are you hungry?  I was going to go make breakfast—”

“Breakfast can wait,” Nana interjects, flipping over to face you as she snuggles in even closer.  “Just stay with me, like this.  Please.”

This time, at least, you know exactly what to say.  “Of course, Nana.  Anything for you.”

She remains silent, but the pounding of her heart tells you everything you’d ever need to know.  You do as she asks, pulling the covers back over you as you wrap your arm around Nana, pulling her closer as you plant a gentle kiss atop her head.  Somewhere, deep in the back of your mind, you know that the clock ticks ever onwards.  But as you look down and see the little smile that only you seem to bring out of Nana, you realize there’s no better way to spend an eternity than moments like this with the one you love.  You’ll stay.  Forever, if she wants.  And with the way she clings to you, like you’re the only thing keeping her on Earth instead of up with the other angels, you trust that she’ll stay too.  Maybe even forever.

tick…

tock…

tick…

tock…

“So, is hugging a common thing with you?  Like, do you greet everyone you meet by trying to break their ribs?”

“Are you complaining about my hugs?!” Nana gasps, unwrapping her arms from around you and pulling away.

“No, absolutely not!” you exclaim, nearly tripping over your words as they leave your mouth at the speed of light.  “I’m just curious, okay?  It seems like a big thing with you.”

“Fine, I’ll answer your ridiculous question,” Nana says, retaking your arm.  “I occasionally give hugs to people I’m close to.  I often hug those I care about most.  I always hug you.”

“Oh,” you manage to say.  Your curiosity sated; you allow the comfortable silence to return.  As you two walk together, you marvel at the vibrant streets, delighted in the changing of the seasons as spring brings its warmth to what was a desolate Korean winter wasteland.

Unfortunately, a single dark shop stands out amongst the rows of brightly lit stores that litter both sides of the street.  Your destination, Aunt Kim’s noodle shop, seems empty.

“Oh no, it’s closed!  If only someone had an apartment nearby where we could spend the evening instead,” Nana announces dramatically, looking up at you and waggling her eyebrows shamelessly.

“If only,” you say, tugging her along.  “Let’s go see if she left a note saying when she’ll be back.”

“‘Closed this evening for a special occasion’,” Nana reads aloud.  “‘Will return to normal business tomorrow.’  That’s strange, I wonder what’s so important that she was willing to close the shop.”

“Strange indeed,” you agree, searching around in your pocket for a moment before pulling out a key.  “Wanna find out?”

Before she even has the chance to respond, you unlock the door, pushing it open and holding it for her as you invite her in.

“Give me a sec!” you call out, venturing into the darkness as she follows you inside.

“What?  How did you …” Nana trails off, covering her eyes as you flip the switch and restore light to the establishment.  Within, two steaming bowls wait upon a small table near the left corner of the store; upon “your” table, the one where you two have always sat over the past couple of months, the one with the edge broken off, the one that’s imperfect, but that’s okay, because nothing is.  Well, except Nana.

“No but really, what is going on?” Nana asks, walking as if in a daze as she joins you at the table.

“I wanted to do something nice for you for your birthday,” you explain, pulling out the chair for her.  “I thought it’d be nice to have the place to ourselves for once, and Aunt Kim was kind enough to agree.  She seemed more than willing to help out, probably because of our … ahem, ‘generous contributions’ to the store.”

“Ah, I see,” Nana chuckles, smiling brightly.  “Thank you, but you really didn’t have to do all this …”

“Maybe,” you admit with a shrug.  “But for you, I’d do anything.  This is the first time I’ve gotten to do something sweet for you, just let me spoil you for one night.”

“Alright, fine,” Nana says, huffing in mock exasperation.  “Then let’s eat!”

You both eagerly dig in, savoring the familiar tastes of your favorite meals.  Unsurprisingly, even as the flavors dance along your tastebuds, the sight of Nana in front of you is all that matters.  Even with her golden color replaced by a dark chocolate brown, her radiant visage shines under the warm amber glow of the Edison bulbs above.  You lose yourself in the sight of her, food long forgotten until her voice brings you back to reality.

“This is soooooooooo good, did you make this?”

“Oh, gods no,” you exclaim, earning a laugh from each of you.  “Aunt Kim was kind enough to make it just before we arrived.”

“Okay good,” Nana replies, wry smirk locked and loaded as she continues to fire shots.  “I don’t think I would have ever been able to forgive you if you brought me here just to subject me to your cooking.”

“Oh, come on,” you say, rolling your eyes and turning away to hide the smile you can’t contain.  “You know you love me.”

“Obviously.”

That single word has no right to hit as hard as it does, but you can’t help but whip back around to face her.  You pause, allowing the smile to slip as your voice drops.  “I love you.”

“Believe it or not, even more obvious,” she responds, still attempting to hide behind levity.  But you see it in the faint glimmer of her eyes, in the way her lips part slightly, in the way she leans in just the slightest bit closer.

You don’t have to move far to close the distance, leaning in and gently pressing your lips against hers.  The combination of the dishes’ flavors explodes across your senses, adding a new type of spice to one of your favorite activities.  Even more than usual, it drives you crazy, amplifying your hunger as you greedily up the intensity, wrapping your hand around the back of her neck and—

“Honestly, at this point, I’m not even surprised.”

Nana immediately breaks away from the kiss, turning to see Wooyeon walking in, a box in one hand and her forehead in the other.

“Seriously, we just keep having the worst timing,” you say, laughing warmly as you stand to greet her.  “Thanks again for picking this up, I really appreciate it.”

“You’re very welcome,” Wooyeon responds, taking a seat next to Nana.  “Your place is nice by the way.”

“Wait, you’re telling me Wooyeon got a key to your place before I did?” Nana asks indignantly.  “Unbelievable, really.”

Your laughter follows you as you retreat to the kitchen, where you grab Wooyeon’s meal and return to the table.  “That is a good point, I should be careful who I give those out to.”

“Indeed,” Wooyeon says, smirking sinisterly.  “I might just invite myself in some time.”

“Alright alright, enough,” Nana declares as you burst into a quiet fit of laughter.  “Please, can we try to have a normal dinner?  It’d be nice to have an interaction between my two closest friends that isn’t awkward or cut short for once.”

The two of you agree and all three of you dive back into your dinners, casually conversing about your days, how good the food is, and basically anything at all.  You happily join in, enjoying the chance to get to know Wooyeon better and seeing a new side of Nana that only her friend and fellow idol can bring out.  A month ago, you never could have imagined seamlessly going from conversations about your work to stories about their backstage adventures to what movies they’d watched recently.  Yet, on this especially significant day, you’re happy to join Nana at the intersection between her personal and professional life.  You’re happy to make a joke and be blessed by the harmonization of Nana and Wooyeon laughing together.  It’s musical, it’s magical, it’s meant to be.

“Now, will you tell me what’s in the box?” Nana eventually asks.

Wooyeon looks to you for confirmation, then reaches down and opens it, revealing an overly frosted, downright cartoonish-looking piece of cake that looks like it was taken right out of a Kirby game.

“Oh my god it’s perfect!” Nana exclaims, eagerly grabbing for her phone as you take a finger and run it through the icing.  “Hey!  I was gonna take a picture of that!!”

A devious smile creeps across your face as you lean forward, booping Nana on the nose and getting frosting everywhere.  “HEY!”

You immediately lean away, desperately attempting her wild assault as Nana attempts to return the favor.  Within a minute, you’re out of breath from laughing so hard, and from the corner of your eye you can see Wooyeon not faring much better.  Nana catches you, of course, and you’re forced to suffer the consequences of your actions as bits of frosting are smeared all across your face.

Eventually, the commotion settles and you’re all able to enjoy the piece in peace, savoring the wonderful flavors as you share it together.  Well after the sun sets, well after the streets outside go dark and the clock ticks past the shop’s normal closing time, the three of you remain, sharing stories, telling tales, and enjoying each other’s company.  As always, a small part of you rues the passage of time, knowing that this too must come to an end.  But for as long as you possibly can, you preserve this moment, refusing to take it for granted as you treasure the memory being made.  Because you know that you’ll remember this night for the rest of your life.  Because nights like this make you realize you’ve been gifted everything you could have ever wished for.

(My sincerest gratitude to @braaan and @majorblinks for reviewing this fic, I can’t thank you enough for how much your insights improved it and how much your love & support meant to me.  This fic is dedicated to @capslocked, a known believer, and @okaylikesmomo, the newest member of the cult.  I hope you enjoyed reading this story about hugs that happened to feature smut; the next story idea I intend to finish features far more snark and smut, with no hugs in sight.  Anticipate it at your own risk.)

#kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #idol x reader #idol x male reader #nana smut #nana fanfic #wooah nana #el7z up #wooah #kpop fluff

[diejager]

Little Red's Wolf

Pairing : Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x fem!reader

Cw: NSFW, exophilia, knotting, breeding, size kink, stomach bulge, biting, marking, blood, oral sex, werewolf, tell me if I missed any.

Wc: 3.5k

Little Red Riding Hood, was a kind and beautiful, young maiden from the village. Little Red Riding Hood was known by all, cared and loved by the small town as if you were their little girl. A pretty, little bachelorette in their small village. The people loved you, the smiling ray of sunlight that beamed across the street with loving words and gentle gestures.

Little Red Riding Hood was also the only one who dared venture outside the town, through the thicket around town, to turn left of the paved road and into the unknown. You were the only one who didn't fear straying from the path, having grown up near it, walking between the trees and exploring the darkest creeks within the woods. You knew it like the back of your hand.

Today would be a scheduled visit to your grandmother, to bring baked goods and wine to your lovely grandmother who lived alone in the forest.

"Come, my dear," your mother called you over, and a soft smile pulled her lips upwards. "Here is a piece of cake and a bottle of wine, take them to your grandmother. She is ill and weak, and they will do her good. Set out before it gets hot, and when you are going, walk nicely and quietly and do not run off the path, or you may fall and break the bottle, and then your grandmother will get nothing; and when you go into her room, don't forget to say, 'Good morning', and don't peep into every corner before you do it."

Donned in your usual red hood, the bright colored cloth ending at your knees with a white chemise and a black skirt, you took the basket in hand with great care, checking over the content you would bring to your grandmother. Once done, you left your house, turning to wave at your mother before you closed the door behind you: "I will take great care."

You walked through the long road through the village, smiling and waving at your neighbors and the neighbors of your neighbors, everyone knew everyone in a small town like yours. Friends of your friends became your friends too, knowing everyone had its perks and made everything easier, more familiar.

"Here! Bring this to your grandmother, Little Red Riding Hood," the Baker, a kind old man who lived upstairs of his bakery, called you over. In his hand was a freshly baked breath, warm and smelling heavenly. Into the basket, it went, wrapped neatly in an ivory cloth, woven with care by the baker's wife.

Farther down the street, the herbalist that lived in her hut, covered with scented grasses and pretty flowers called to you, "I heard of your grandmother's sickness, Little Red Riding Hood," she gave you her most caring and worried look she had, honestly dripping from her eyes and tongue. "Please, mix this with hot water before giving it to her, one quarter of this with a cup should do." The small bottle was carefully placed next to the wine bottle your mother had given you, safely secured with twine and string.

People waved and smiled at you as you walked closer to the forest's mouth, wishing you 'good luck' and bidding you a farewell, until the evening, when you'd emerge from the darkness.

The path was cloaked in the shadows of trees, the leaves brushing against one another in the blowing air, soft and calming. It pushed the gentle smell of nature into your nose and dances beautifully before you.

The road was paved in stone, soft, silver brick that stuck out, the dirt hugged its rounded edges and held it together. The trees hugged the path closely, hiding the turns in the road with greenery, beautiful and lively green. You skipped by habit, eyes wandering around the branches to see bird nests and shy squirrels jumping from tree to tree as you followed the path.

While the paved way led farther out, towards the edge of the forest, the dirt path at the fork led deeper, the way to your grandmother's quaint house. You turned and strayed from the popular road, heeled shoes stepping on the hard dirt. You hummed a tune, absentmindedly following the wavy line deeper into the wildness.

Shadows danced outside your line of sight, appearing at the corner of your eyes until you turned to see whatever or whoever it was. You were scared, although naive and oblivious, you grew up in these woods and knew that it wouldn't hurt those who knew it well.

When you called out, the shadow stood tall and rigid, a dark mass hidden under the shades of the trees. It rumbled out a noise, one closely sounding to a wolf's growl. You stopped to stare at it, watching it amble forward, into the lighted path. A wolf, as intended, covered in warm, brown fur with piercing, blue eyes that stared at you inquisitively.

"G'day, Little Red," he spoke with a slur in his voice, a deep rumble in it. His voice sent pleasurable shivers down your spine, you shuddered physically. He saw that, you knew he did, wolves were perceptive.

"Thank you kindly, Great Wolf," you bowed your head, smiling sweetly at him. You ignored the way his eyes glazed over, going down the length of your cloak and your naked knees to your shoes, then back up to your face. He drank you in like you were a treat to his eyes.

"Where yer goin' so early, Little Red?"

"To my grandmother's, Great Wolf."

Perhaps you shouldn't have told him that, for his eyes shone with a menacing glint, dark and ravenous within the ocean of blue. However, it would have been impolite to ignore such an inquiry, especially to a polite and handsome wolf.

He bobbed his head, his mane fluidly moving along his movement, soft and silky, yet disarrayed. He pointed his muzzle at your basket, nose wiggling as he sniffed the air.

"What 'ave ye in your apron?"

"Cake and wine and bread, yesterday was baking-day; and herbs for my poor, sick grandmother. All to make her stronger, Great Wolf."

"Where dae ye nana live, Little Red?"

Again, you pushed away the chill that ran down your back, his heated gaze weighed heavily on your small figure.

"A good quarter into the wood, her house stands under three large oak-trees and nut-trees just below it. Surely, you've seen it."

He thought to himself, thinking back to the house he saw many times while passing through. An old lady that lived alone so deeply in his home had always been an interest, especially the sweet scent of freshly-baked pie. He knew the old woman, Nana, he called her after being caught by the old woman years ago.

So he nodded, head cocked your way with a knowing glint in his eyes. He hadn't seen you at Nana's, though your scent - fresh and earthly smell of wildflowers that grew in the forest - was familiar. You must've only visited her when he was away, lounging under the shade, running through the trees, or stalking and hunting his prey - like you were, at the moment.

A sugary, little treat that he walked into after a run with Gaz. He considered himself lucky, extremely so for having found you before you reached your nana's house.

"Ye best be on your way, then," he mocked a curtsey, his tail waving lazily behind him. "Guid luck, Little Red."

His bright irises followed you, watching the back of your red cloak ride up the inside of your knees, shoulders bobbing along the rugged ground. He was addicted, obsessed with your scent and your appearance. You were soft and naive, too trusting of him, a wolf. An adorable little treasure he would love to eat whole.

He stayed until your red figure became a dot in the flora, swallowed up by the woods he lived and hunted in. He would wait, lurk behind you from afar and pounce the moment he saw you stagger and hesitate.

You did as your mother told you, you greeted your sickly grandmother with a "Good morning" before peering at every corner of her house, searching for any change since the last time you passed by. Setting the basket down, you picked the piece of cake and a cup for the wine, and put aside the bread and concoction for later use. Placed in a tray, you brought it to your grandmother, supported by pillows against the headboard.

As you watched your grandmother eat, you recalled the brief discussion you had with the Great Wolf, dangerously handsome and mischievous. You fed her the herbalist's recommended dosage, a quarter of a cup. She hisses and complained but still drank, swallowing the green mix with small gulps. Once she finished and rested comfortably under the drapes, you spoke, "Grandmother, I met a Great Wolf today, on my way to bring your cake and wine. Do you know of him?"

She muttered, a shallow and weak "yes" at your inquiry: "Kind wolf, that one," she blinked slowly, glazed over with tiredness. "Hungry too! A ravenous creature, but gentle, Little Red Riding Hood. Do not fear the wolf, he is caring."

Without much left to do for her (you placed the cake leftover and the bread on her stove, wine, and cup on her nightstand, and the rest of the concoction on her kitchen table), you bid your farewell and crossed the room to her door, sending her a kiss before you closed and locked her door behind you. The sun had crawled higher, nearly noon as it blared its heated gaze over your crimson figure, bright and energetic as the color of your cloak.

Rustling followed your steps, taunting and teasing every time you stopped to look around you, only seeing green leaves and brown barks with a few specks of vibrant color. the farther you went, the more eager they became, closer to you and stopping later than you did.

You heard panting and low rumbling from the being, it gave away your stalker's identity. Instead of walking the path, you stayed between the trees, diving into the shades created by tall branches and wide leaves. Within them, anything could happen without passersby seeing it knowing - unless there was noise to hear. You were baring yourself to the creature, oblivious of its intentions.

As if hearing your thoughts, the beast appeared before you, a broad and hardened frame looming over you like the mountains near your town did. His cerulean orbs shone under the shadows as he stared at you with such intensity that it made you shiver, a pleasurable chill.

"Oh! Great Wolf!" you called, sounding surprised with your gaping mouth and wide eyes. "What big ears you have."

"All the betta tae hear yer with, Little Red," he spoke, pointed ears flickering and twitching under your gaze.

"What big eyes you have, Great Wolf."

"All the betta tae see yer with, Little Red," he rasped, eyes taking in your voluptuous figure, dark with arousal.

"What large hands you have, Great Wolf."

"All the betta tae hold yer with, Little Red," he growled, arms flexing, threatening to close around you and cage you against his chest.

Your body thrummed, warmth flooding your body and heating your groin. His strong body stalked so slowly toward you, teasing you both. You ate him up, trailing from his snout and down his naked pectorals, from his sculpted abdomen to the bulge in his pants, and down his beautiful thighs.

"What a terrible big mouth you have, Great Wolf," you gulped, legs shaky.

"All the bettea tae eat yer with!"

He pounced, paws falling to your shoulder to pin you down. You fell with a yelp, followed by a gasp as he clawed at your chemise, ripping it in two. His warm nose nudged your breasts, tongue reaching out to lave between them. It was hot and wet. You moaned and gripped his head, reveling his tongue running over your mounds and swirling around your nipple. He closed his mouth around your left, perky nub, sucking harshly with the other being occupied by his big palm, kneading it sensually.

You cried his moniker, squirming under his skillful tongue. Your legs wrapped themselves around his small waist, grinding against his hardness.

"Soap, Little Red," he groaned, licking down your chest and your navel as he pulled down your pants. "Mae name's Soap, Little Red."

His fingers slid between your thighs, claw drawing a line down your inner thigh to your ankle. He panted against your heat, jaw flashing his sharp teeth, just inches from sinking into your supple flesh to watch blood roll down your slit and ass. Fuck, the thought made him hornier.

He latched onto your clit, rolling the tip of his tongue over it. Your legs were pulled over his shoulders, both hands gripping your hips from bucking into his jaw. They dwarfed your body, almost able to meet at the front. Your body wracked with waves of arousal from his motion and the pure implication of being speared by a being Soap's size, twice - dare say, thrice - your size.

He growled when you gripped his mane, pulling his hair and squirming too much, the vibration tingled, traveling from your core to the tip of your curling toes. He growled a second time, smirking at your thrown-back head and drooling mouth before replacing his tongue with his callused thumb. He wandered lower, dipping between your labia to probe at your entrance.

He loved the sound of your moans and mewls, crying out every time his muscle dragged the warm walls inside of you, thrusting and curling, exploring your drooling cunt with a deep hunger. Your walls spasmed and your limbs twitched, your orgasms teetered on the edge.

"Let go, Little Red," he groaned, the apes of your thigh slotting perfectly between his maw, teeth shy of digging into your muscle. "Come for mae."

You came with a silent scream, euphoria washing over you as Soap lapped your slick, hungrily drinking the essence of your pleasure. He rode it out, thumb gently rubbing your clit until you calmed down, shaking and gasping for air, but all you could smell was sex and the pungent odor of Soap's musk, a masculine and predatory thing.

With one last long lick from your ass to your clit, he pulled away, back hunched as he ground his crotch on your wet cunt, kneeling with his legs splayed open.

"Ye ready for mae, bonnie?"

You shakily nodded, the extremities of your limbs still tingling with pleasure. He smirked a cute and smug grin that fit his stature and personality so well. He dropped his slacks, pumping his cock, spreading his pre around his thick girth. You stared at it with amazement, mouth agape with hunger. What you'd give to have a taste of him, throat gagging around his girthy rod.

The red, angry tip tapped your clit a few times, you jumped and moaned, eyes pleading for him to hurry, to claim you and eat you as he promised. Hearing your pleading mewls, he tested the resistance, tip slowly easing in. He watched you take him inch by inch, lips opening and stretching to take him whole and raw. Spread to your fullest, you threw your head back, eyes rolling as you felt him push in. He perfectly filled you, bottoming out as his bulbous tip hit your cervix and bulged slightly under your navel.

"Fuck- tight lil' thang too, aye?" Soap groaned, his tongue lolling out as he panted, drinking up all the soft warmth that clenched around him. "This snatch's perfect for mae, eh?"

"Yours," you mewled, locking your ankles by his maned nape, pulling him closer to you, your red, swollen nipples pressed against his hard chest. "For you, Soap."

"Aye, fer mae."

He pulled out until only the tip lingered in, heading the loud squelch, and slammed in, head meeting your cervix and bulging. He started a fast and rough pace, pounding like a beast in rut, grunting and growling every time his balls slapped your ass. Your cum stained his brown fur, painting the growing knot with a white, creamy ring and his balls lewdly wet.

The innocent and naive appearance you had before was ruined by your current one, debauched and drunk with the pleasure that his pounding cock gave you. You tightened around him, wet walls clinging to his shaft as he pushed in. He rolled his hips, watching the protrusion swirl along his hips and the way you leaned at him for more, harder, faster.

"Ruin me, Soap!"

A primal urge overtook him, and he snapped his hips, plunging deeper, faster, harder into you. His thoughts numbed and his glands pumped dopamine into his brain, filling his thoughts with needs. He wanted to breed you and pump you full of cum as his knot kept you plugged. He wanted to watch you grow big and round with his pups, your breasts grow sensitive and heavy with milk.

His dreams urged him farther, draping himself closer to you, teeth lingering over your shoulder. He teetered on the edge of wanting to bite down and watch your crimson ichor ooze from beneath his teeth, roll down your shoulder, and stain your pretty vibrant cloak with a darker shade of red.

He could feel his fast-approaching orgasm, the beat in his chest, and the heat that pooled into his crotch. While his tongue dragged over the patch he was gazing at, jaw flexing to bite down, his knot grew, swelling around the stretched skin of your entrance.

"It's fine," he heard you say between your keens and the wet slapping. "You can bite."

A shiver wracked his back, muscle clenching and knot flaring. He gave a few thrusts before his knot locked, slowly pushing the swollen base of his cock fully into you. He bit down as he came, tasting your sweet (a delicate sweetness that he'd never tasted before, rivaling your slick) blood on his muscle.

You cried, screaming and mewling, your walls closing around him in a vice, milking his cock of potent cum. Ropes fired from the tapered tip, his slit oozing and filling you with burning warmth. He pulled back, mouth unlatching from your bleeding shoulder with a dazed look.

He licked your wound when you whined, cleaning it and kissing your pain with red-stained lips. He held you close, watching you move your hands to your bulging stomach happily. He followed your hands, how you rubbed your growing stomach, being filled and plugged by him.

"Sorry, Little Red, " he kissed you, painting your lips a pretty shade of crimson. "We're stuck together fer a while."

"It's fine, Soap, " your voice was slurred, expression content.

He really got lucky, stumbling on such a sweetheart like you. If he ended up knocking you up, he wouldn't mind staying with you, you've already made a place in his heart and mind. Your smell, your taste, your voice, and your soft hands were imprinted in his mind.

He didn't mind watching run after his - your - pups, caring and motherly, doting on his children. He couldn't wait to care for you. He's marked you, you were his and his scent covered you. He was yours too, he smelled sweet and flowery, he had your taste on his tongue and you drew lines on his back and arms, marking him.

A few minutes before

Like yesterday and the day before, the hunter made his usual way through the woods. He watched over the few creatures that lived in these woods. He scratched his beard, rifle slung over his shoulder as he recalled what Gaz told him.

He whipped his head towards a scream, body stopping on the path he took. He gripped his rifle and dashed through the trees, weaving between the trunks and bushes until the screams became clearer. The high-pitched sound turned to moans and cries, deeper, wolfish grunts joined the cries. He frowned, confusion laced his blue eyes until he got closer to the source.

"-Soap!"

He froze, jumping at the name he heard. He knew Soap, the wolf that lived in these woods along with Gaz and Ghost. He peered through the thick cloud of leaves and gaped. He caught a red cloth and a small - smaller than him and Soap - figure beneath the hulking mass of a wolf, crying and mewling at the ravenous predator. He recognized the vibrant cloth, it was Little Red Riding Hood's recognizable cloak and her voice.

He knew the girl for coming over so often, invited by Nikolai, his husband of decades now. He gulped and backed away, turning away with tensed muscles and a shocked - traumatized, even - expression. He wished he could forget the sight, wipe the memory from his mind.

He wasn't sure if he'd be able to look at Little Red Riding Hood's face without feeling the awkwardness crawl his way up his nape, clinging onto him like a sinful reminder.

#soap smut #mw2 soap #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap mw2 #cod mw2 smut #mw2 smut #soap x reader smut #soap mactavish #cod mw2 x reader #exophilia #monster 141 au #monster fucker #terato #price mw2 #ghost mw2 #mw2 gaz #mw2 x reader #little red riding hood

[lipstickghoulie]

Crimson Plots

•Astarion/female Tav (lots and lots of menstrual and blood talk, period oral, period sex, dirty talk, Astarion being manipulative since this is set around act one, PIV, creampie. Over 5k words. Could be seen as a sequel to my “Loss of Innocence” drabble or not. Version with breeding kink is available on my ao3)•

The first time that Astarion had sniffed out that Tav was on her menstrual cycle was the same night that they made camp after their rather tumultuous initial impression. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time, beyond being moody since it was clear that she was on the tail end of it since the smell was so faint as to be nearly imperceptible even to Astarion’s nose. He knew that, even as charming as he could be under the right circumstances, there was no possible way that he could see himself talking his silver tongued self into her pants before the time had passed for him to try such a rare treat… especially since he had been holding a dagger against her neck earlier that day. His luck, or lack thereof at the time, had made him even more broody even though it was doubtful that he would have gone against Cazador’s edicts that early on.

Cazador’s rules about not drinking from thinking creatures, unfortunately, had extended to women on their periods. The few spawn that had been willing to test how serious that their master had been about that warning were found out very quickly and been made into violent, stomach-turning examples that still made Astarion shudder to think about to this day. How exactly the bastard had known that those unlucky spawn had indulged on the fine red between someone’s legs was anyone’s guess and not something that Astarion had felt wasn’t worth his time to poke the boundaries of personally when he was already frequently on Cazador’s shit list in those days anyhow. Why add more tortures and indignities on the pile?

But a few weeks later, Astarion was still a free man and away from Cazador’s rules and compulsions. He had already fed on Tav’s lovely neck and nothing had happened. He had finagled himself into her bed and hopefully her loyalties. Things were definitely looking up for him… and he began realizing that this chance might come up again with him having full opportunity to lap at a different source of her blood. Why not break this rule too? He liked eating pussy, especially Tav’s sweet pussy, so he couldn’t stop thinking about how much more delicious it might be while juicy with her sanguine fluids.

Some might uncharitably call what Astarion started doing as scheming. The fact that in the days leading up to when he guessed that her period might be starting, he became a lot more amenable to Tav’s do-gooding inclinations. That he had a placidly encouraging smile on his face instead of his typical scowl when she glanced at him after helping some pathetic and downtrodden soul for free, that he would give her an encouraging pat on the shoulder (even if half-hearted) instead of crossing his arms over his chest at the thought of Tav assisting these people who didn’t deserve her generosity. She didn’t seem to catch on that he might be up to something and merely seemed grateful to not deal with any pushback on her decision making. Some people would definitely call what he was attempting as plotting when he started squirreling away the choicest food supplies when they would be looting all of those thousands of tedious barrels and wooden trunks during their adventures. A cinnamon roll here, a shiny apple there… all tucked away into Astarion’s pack for him to kindly present to her later with a tender smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

When she responded with a huge hug and watery, appreciative smile that seemed a bit too emotional for the gift of simple snacks, Astarion could barely hide his grin. She seemed hormonal, even her scent changing into something headier and muskier, and hopefully that meant that his desired goal wasn’t too far off.

And when the next day came around and he could catch a whiff of blood coming from Tav’s tent after they started making camp for the night? The smile on his face was definitely predatory and sharp. Astarion ducked into his own tent just to grab a fluffy towel, that he had nicked for this express purpose the last time that they had traded with a merchant, before sauntering over to her own canvas enclosure.

He almost felt bad when he lifted up her tent flap without greeting her first and walked right into Tav getting changed, her nudity on full display. Every soft curve of her physique, every enticing muscle, all calling to him as she yelped Astarion’s name in shock at the intrusion.

“Sorry, my love,” Astarion said immediately, though his inflection spelled out that he was anything but sorry and was, in fact, enjoying the view. The iron rich, cloying scent of blood was even stronger in here and it was enough for his mouth to feel parched in sheer, reeling want. Hells, if that’s what her moon’s blood smelt like, it must taste even better than he had been imagining. “I caught the scent of blood and I thought that I should come check on you, make sure that you aren’t injured?”

Tav winced, both in embarrassment and in pain, touching a spot on her lower stomach as she seemed to prioritize that over trying to be modest over her bare frame. She paused before stuttering out quietly, “Ah, uh, no. I’m not hurt. I mean, not really. It’s my… period? And while I have cramps, I’m not, like, dying or anything…”

She stopped talking and chewed on her bottom lip, face pinking in humiliation. Tav was so adorable in his eyes right now. So bashful over normal bodily functions and clearly having no idea that this was practically catnip to a vampire.

Astarion stalked forward, giving her his most sympathetic pout and sheepdogging her over to where her simple and plain bedroll lay sprawled out. He murmured, “Oh, pet, that is so unfortunate. I really hate to see you in pain like this. If you’d permit me to, I could help you out, chase those mean old cramps right away? I have heard that pleasure can make them subside for a while.”

The towel was already being unfurled in his hands and laid out over her bedroll to protect it from any messes that may occur. Astarion was nothing if not benevolent about spilled blood. Tav blinked at him a few times in confusion but didn’t protest as he took her shoulders in his hold and delicately guided her down to sit on the protective layer of cotton.

“You mean… like sex? I thought that men didn’t like doing that when women were in this state,” Tav squeaked out, puzzled and blushing even harder at his offer. “I would hate it if you were disgusted by me after this, Astarion.”

Obviously he meant to do a lot more than sex but as always, Tav’s naivety was so twee.

Astarion crooned, nearly sugary in tone, “I could never be disgusted by you, dear Tav. I want to do this and I’d love to help you out. Consider it a favor between lovers. But only if you want to, of course.”

That last part was one that he actually could say that he meant. Astarion might have been a tad grumpy if she said no but he’d accept it with no ill will. But how he hoped that she’d say yes and he knelt in front of her in anticipation, unable to stop his heated gaze from flicking over the apex where legs met and where all of her tempting sanguine offerings pooled where he couldn’t quite see yet.

There was a beat of silence, then two, then Tav nodded and laid back a little. Her movements seemed unsure but it was more out of self consciousness than reluctance to let him do this, which was good enough for him. Astarion hastily pulled his shirt off over his head and threw it into the corner of her tent to recover later. It wouldn’t do to stain it when they both knew already that he was already a messy eater when it came to only her neck. With a beaming and victorious grin, he tapped her knees apart so he could survey his prize.

She was even more jawdroppingly stunning than he thought she’d be, with her center tearing up with the most impressive red drops, like rubies calling to him and glimmering under the light. Some of her blood hued darker in some areas, almost black, and he couldn’t wait to test out if the difference in color meant a difference in flavor. Astarion scooted closer until he was close enough for his breath to ghost over her responsive folds and cool the liquid there, making Tav shiver.

His tongue chased the thick river of blood up her upper thigh, clearing a path up her skin that revealed a cute little vein in her flesh. Astarion immediately nipped at with his sharp teeth, unable to resist marking somewhere that he knew he would return to later, like a reminder to himself. Tav’s moan broke off in an admonishing shriek of surprise, though it quieted when Astarion soothed the bite with another long, lingering lick and batted his eyelashes at her contritely from his spot between her legs.

Gods, he knew that he should be careful. With the metallic and deliciously bright pop of her monthly blood coating his tastebuds, it was getting harder and harder to pretend that he was doing this solely for Tav’s benefit and simply doing her a favor that she would have to repay to him at a later time. All she’d have to do is look below the waist and she would catch on to how Astarion’s straining erection pushed at the front of his breeches and begged for relief, precum dotting the dark fabric in a way that he couldn’t ever remember happening before. Normally his arousal was not dripping down the length of his dick as if it was crying with want at the mere thought of being buried in a tight, needy hole.

“Is this helping at all, pet?” Astarion asked in a carefully put-together tone of concern. He was just trying so hard to help her out, after all. “Or do you need a bit… more?”

And without waiting for an answer, just to give Tav a small taste of what he was offering while he received a taste of his own in return, Astarion made confident eye contact with her as he slowly dragged the tip of his tongue up the frills of her clit.

The way that Tav moaned out his name was more beautiful than any song he’s ever heard, more of a masterwork than the best blade forged by the most skilled of blacksmiths. The breathless and shocked undertone was something extra that made his dick twitch against the fabric prison of his pants. Thankfully he had been too eager when plotting out this excursion and had foregone his usual underwear so that was one less barrier. Resigned now that he needed to free himself, Astarion hastily reached down and unlaced the front, finally letting his cock spring free with a sigh of relief. It leaked a few stray drops of clear precum onto the towel underneath them but with how Tav was already starting to paint it crimson as she dripped under his steady attention, he wasn’t too worried about her noticing.

Astarion sweetly pressed a kiss against her clit. Tav tried to jerk away instinctively, her knee almost knocking Astarion in the cheek as her leg reared out. His hands shot back up to grasp her by the upper thighs and firmly hold her open for both his eyes and mouth to devour at his leisure. He didn’t think he had ever seen a more delicious sight as Tav trembling, eyes wide and pupils dilated, as he spread her apart to admire the way her arousal and blood mixed together and drenched her lower lips and down the curves of her ass.

“What’s the matter? Doesn’t it feel good? Aren’t I helping your pretty pussy feel so loved?” Astarion asked innocently, his thumbs rubbing circles into the meat of her thighs as he stared up at her from his kneeling position. “It would be rude to stop me now before I’ve even gotten enough of a taste to satiate me, you know…”

“P-please continue, I just got startled-“ Poor Tav stammered out, cheeks turning an adorable shade of bright pink that made Astarion want to make her even more flustered, just to see how far down that blush might travel.

Astarion was already leaning forward to deliver another mockery of a chaste kiss to her swollen clit. Though he couldn’t resist flicking his tongue out before he pulled back this time to trace the pearl slowly, making sure that some of his saliva drooled out past his smiling fangs to coat it until it was glistening. Oh, it really felt right to him for her to be coated or filled with Astarion’s spit and cum. As much as he was using her for his own purposes, he really did love marking Tav up as his in any form that he could. A traitorous part of his mind slithered and snickered and pointed out how awfully obsessive he was over a woman that he was just using, but Astarion ignored that voice in the back of his head as well as he ever did… if a bit uneasily.

Enough playing with his food. Tav was turned on enough that she was pliable, distracted and surely wouldn’t notice how much fun that Astarion was having. He would prime the pump, so to speak, and then have the sweetest meal that he could ever look forward to. One of his hands fell off of their holding position on her leg to slip between her folds, two fingers sliding right into her slippery, inviting core. Even with how sensitive that Tav probably was right now, he met no resistance so after a few unhurried pumps into her, he added another finger.

Tav’s cunt struggled to take the width of three fingers but much like she did with his cock usually, the greedy slit still stretched and sucked his fingers in wetly. Astarion never forgot in moments like this that he was the only one to ever touch her like this, the only one to ever defile her holes and fuck her, and pride swelled inside of him at the thought. He would make damn sure that he remained the only one to ever possess her so completely too, if he was able to continue using his cunning to stay in her good graces like this even after the illithid threat was taken care of.

Her hands reached out desperately, trying to grab onto Astarion’s forearms so wildly that she nicked him with her nails, her voice shaking and high pitched as he worked at her with his wicked fingers, “A-Astarion, that feels so nice, please…”

“Aw, I know, I know, you poor thing,” Astarion tutted in false sympathy, shaking his head. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head; I’ll take such good care of you and make those pesky cramps go away.”

Tav’s crimson liquid was drenching Astarion’s hands, a mixture of it and her juices running down the planes of his palm and wrist by now. The metallic and animalistic scent of sex and blood was so heavy in the air that Astarion could feel his mouth watering. He knew he’d have blood packed deep under his fingernails after this for days and normally, the thought of anything messing up his perfectly manicured nails would have infuriated him but now? The idea of seeing the reminder of this delightful excursion even while putting a dagger into an enemy’s spine during battle was very appealing indeed.

On the next come-hither movement into her pussy, Astarion’s fingertips glanced upon that spongy section that made her twitch and keen out his name again. He couldn’t help the grin that pulled at his lips as he immediately pressed forward harder, increasing his speed between words as he crowed out triumphantly, “Right there, darling? Show me just how great it feels when I touch… you… right… there… my good girl.”

Astarion had made thousands upon thousands of people come before; he had it down to a precise science what he could do to make someone, anyone, lose their composure in minutes. But it never had felt like this before as Tav’s walls squeezed around his fingers and she found her climax. He usually never felt anything at all but with her, he felt smug, excited, hungry… he tried his best to chalk it up to being starving and surrounded by blood even as that small voice deep in his brain laughed at him.

Tav didn’t even have a moment to catch her breath before Astarion was spreading her open again and descending on her. He had delayed his gratification as much as he was willing to now, he wasn’t a patient man and he had been practically saintly in the restraint that he had shown tonight (at least in Astarion’s opinion). He took a few testing licks of the leaking trails of Tav’s cum and life force mixed and gods above and below, it was a good thing that he wasn’t standing otherwise his knees would have buckled and he would have crumpled like someone being released from a ‘hold person’ spell.

Her blood was always the best that he had ever supped and that went beyond simple-minded sentimentality at how she had been the first thinking and humanoid creature that he had fed from. It made him feel more awake, almost alive, in addition to tasting like the most bubbly and effervescent (if metallic) wine he had ever enjoyed. It tasted even better right now though and while Astarion couldn’t tell if it was because it was coming from her pussy or because of her orgasm, all that he knew was that he couldn’t get enough.

“Fuck,” he breathed, then caught a clot of blood on the flat of his tongue, closing his eyes in bliss for a moment as he swallowed thickly. It slid down his throat like some sort of exotic jellied syrup and he knew in that moment that the time for teasing was over. Any former illusion that he had of restraint was gone and as dead as he was.

Astarion’s mouth dove to seal over her as he moved now to bully as much of his tongue into her as possible. Her voice seemed far away now, partially because of her thighs trying to push themselves closed around his ears, though that just added to the pleasure for him as her soft skin rubbed against the erogenous points of his ears. Thankfully she seemed to still be very much into this if the garbled cries of “yes” and “Astarion” were any indication. Though the way that her hole clenched and kindly produced more liquid of both arousal and the crimson variety was definitely another sign that Tav did not want him to stop. Not that Astarion was sure that he could, not when he felt drunk on her, addicted past all logical reasoning and rationality, his tongue pistoning into her like something more machine than vampire, his grip desperately trying to pull her closer as her blood ran down his chin and neck like juices being let loose from a freshly bitten peach.

After these dreadful business with the Absolutist cult and everything else was done and dusted, Astarion decided (rather deliriously), that he would have Tav tied up and spread open for his feasting pleasures during her monthly menstruations every month for the rest of their lives. Just a perfect treat, helpless to the ravages of his mouth as he drank his fill of her until his stomach was full and she was limp and mindless from countless orgasms. She was rather squirmy right now so he thought she might even thank him next time if he restrained her and licked at her while he placed her on his face to sit on it. Why not take advantage of how Astarion didn’t need to breathe? Yes, this seemed like a fine plan to him, even if he was normally adverse to planning things out at all.

This was a fantastic position too though, with Tav on her back and Astarion looming over her, even if her hands had become too weak to grab at him further and just clutched at the towel still doing its best to absorb any falling bodily fluids underneath her sweaty frame. Astarion already knew that he would spirit that towel away later under the guise of being helpful and trying to help launder it. Really, it would end up disappearing into his tent for him to hold up against his nose and inhale during the times that he would jerk himself off to this memory, to let the lingering traces of Tav’s fluids guide his mind back to this place mentally when he was alone.

Astarion nudged his nose into the swollen ridge of Tav’s clit on the next thrust of his tongue into her and unexpectedly, that was enough to make her cum again. She whimpered this time instead of wailing as his mouth was rewarded with a gush of sticky, aroused blood. Astarion had enough volume for both of them though as he groaned so loudly into her cunt that he was sure that his tongue vibrated where it was happily trapped within her spasming, gummy walls. His precum was dribbling off of his erection in persistent streams now, even wetting his heavy and wanting balls, and he truly knew that if he didn’t bury his dick deeply and thoroughly into her soon, he would go mad beyond help. She had bewitched him with the tang of her gifted blood and now his brain swirled with nothing but thoughts of Tav, of owning and taking and ravishing her in every position possible (and some that probably weren’t, anatomy-wise).

Almost regretfully, Astarion backed up slightly and let his tongue free from her wonderful cunt, taking one last lap of enjoyment at a cheeky river of blood that had escaped his notice. Tav was starting to sit up, giving him a dopey and grateful smile as she said, “Oh, Astarion, I already feel so much better, my cramps feel like they’re nearly gone, thank you!”

“We’re not done yet,” Astarion growled darkly, pushing Tav back down with an impatient hand shoving between her perky breasts until she flopped onto the bedroll bonelessly. Any pretense of amused condescension and helpfulness was gone as if it had never been there at all, he no longer cared if she thought he was doing her a kindly favor now. He did briefly soothe her shock by running the same fingers that had returned Tav to her laying down position over her stiffened nipples, pulling on them until they ached and her spine arched. She had the cutest tits, Astarion mused to himself almost fondly. He would enjoy spraying his cum over them one day, covering those sensitive nipples with white pearls, if he could ever convince himself to blow his load somewhere other than her welcoming holes.

He couldn’t wait any longer to fuck her though. Astarion yanked off his pants the rest of the way, uncaring as he heard stitches come undone in complaint at the brusque way that he got disrobed. He could always repair any rips later, he reasoned, but he didn’t want to waste any more precious seconds instead of being balls-deep in Tav’s eager and weeping slit. Grabbing the damp base of his dick, Astarion lined himself up with her hole and stuffed himself inside in one brutal motion. Tav cried out, mouth slack and cheeks still so adorably flushed, but didn’t protest at his rough treatment even though she had to be overstimulated by now. Fuck, her pussy was even hotter than normal with it being heated further by both her production of menstrual blood and his amorous attentions and Astarion had to shut his eyes for a moment and just exhale for fear that he’d go over the edge in one embarrassingly short thrust.

“You are so perfect, every time,” Astarion said lowly, giving an experimental push of his cock and smirking when he was reassured that he wouldn’t cum right away. “I could spend the rest of my unlife attempting to stretch out this little cunt and never tire of it.”

“Astarion, you can’t keep talking to me like that, it’s too much,” Tav complained, voice simultaneously pleading with him to stop and to keep going. Poor darling didn’t know what she wanted, Astarion thought to himself, entertained. It’s a good thing that he knew exactly what her body needed.

“Oh, it’s too much? It’s too much for me to tell you how I love how needy and desperate that you are for me and only me? How I love how gorgeous that your pussy looks when it’s trying to fit around my cock?” Astarion purred out, smirking, manhandling her a bit to tilt her hips up just a touch and go back to his former position of holding them open as securely as if his hands were iron manacles. His bruising grasp left stains of her own blood behind on one of her thighs as a pointed reminder of how he had fingered her open and bathed his hand in the generous bounty that the very center of her had offered him.

Tav only cried out shrilly in response and when he felt her flutter all around him, Astarion lost interest in bantering at her much more anyways. Pussy this fantastic, this divine, was surely how Strahd met his downfall, Astarion thought to himself, crazed as he watched blood bubble and well up in the crevice between them as he fucked her. The notion didn’t deter him even a little though as he picked up speed, his hips a blur as he pounded his dick into Tav again and again. He knew she would be feeling this for days to come, struggling to sit down and even walk on their trek to the crèche, and that made a strangled, lustful whine erupt from his throat. He was humiliating himself now with how he was practically drooling as he took her, his hair messy from her thighs ruffling up his typically styled curls, at how shaky his pants of exhaled breath were. To distract her from how much she was driving him to ruin, Astarion looped her legs loosely over the juts of his hips and dragged his hands up her arms until they intertwined with hers.

This wasn’t something he usually did either; holding hands during sex. It felt oddly right, here with Tav, though. Their noses bumping against each other as he lay almost prone on top of her, driving his cock into her with mindless abandon as their eyes locked desperately, as if they could connect with more than just the tadpoles in their skulls, fingers entangled with hers even as one of his was still wet with her blood and desire. Astarion leaned forward and gave her a hesitant kiss for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, unsure if she would be turned off by the remnants of the drying bodily liquids there either but no. She met his kiss as openly and without reservation as when she would ask him for a kiss anywhere else and it made something pinch in his chest where his heart lived.

A few more frenzied thrusts and Tav was grabbing his fingers just as tightly as her pussy clutched at his cock, her eyes wide and surprised as she came yet again. This was the time that pulled him along with her, unable to resist any longer and unwilling to stave off his own pleasure for even a minute further. He could feel his length pulsing seemingly for ages as his hips slowed, spilling what felt like an ocean of semen into her until it spurted out around the sides of his dick. As he delicately started to pull out, it wet her pussy lips so well that Astarion longed to lap at them again and gather up their combined essences in his mouth and experience how they tasted together. He could tell by how disheveled and cock drunk that Tav looked that she was too overstimulated for that right now so he just resolved to try it next time, chuckling at the idea. Instead, he gathered up some of the escaping white strings of his cum, swirled beautifully in some spots by the ruby color of her blood, and pushed it steadily back into her puffy, slick hole where it belonged. She mewled at the sensation on her sore walls but let him do it, too exhausted and fucked out to do much than give Astarion an exasperated look.

He settled back in over her and tucked the top of her head under his chin, rolling them both slightly so then they could both lay on their side comfortably. Astarion couldn’t help but be amazed at how happy he felt in this moment. His vampiric hunger wasn’t completely gone (as it probably never would be as long as he remained a spawn) but it was placated enough to just be a tiny rumble instead of the ravenous, quavering earthquake that it usually was. Even as messy, blood-sticky and cum-tacky as they both were, Astarion felt content and peaceful.

Tav’s voice was small and drowsy as she murmured against his neck, “Thank you for all of that, Astarion. It feels like my cramps are gone completely, you were so right.”

Oh. Yes. He had nearly forgotten that had been his ruse for doing this in the first place.

“Well, I usually am right about most things, darling,” Astarion sniffed haughtily, pulling her in closer against his side as he basked in her warmth and grateful adoration. “Maybe we should make this a frequent occurrence whenever your period comes to visit. I do hate to see you suffer so…”

Tav muttered her agreement and nuzzled further into him peacefully. Astarion smiled and allowed himself to close his eyes and enjoy the snuggling. He had earned it, being so selfless and helping her out so thoroughly… Astarion couldn’t get through the thought without chuckling. Still, he had manipulated his way into what he wanted yet again, he had Tav at his side and devoted and what more could he want than that?

#astarion smut #astarion x female reader #my fanfiction #astarion fanfic #my writing #astarion bg3 #astarion x female tav #astarion fanfiction #bg3 smut #my fanfics #Astarion smut fanfiction

[jienem]

His Human

Y/N's parents often vacation with her in a cabin near the woods every spring. The young girl, no less than twelve years old, shares a little excitement about going into the cabin every year. While she worries about dangers in the forest, her parents don't seem to worry; in fact, they even encourage her to explore, much to her dismay. Despite their nonchalance, she wasn't keen on going outside, preferring to stay indoors and read in the library all day. After much convincing from her parents and promising to buy her gifts, she finally agreed begrudgingly. Her parents showed happiness and praised her, hugging her tightly. While she wondered why they were enthusiastic about her leaving. If they wanted her to leave, they could have just said so.

Y/N sighed and left the house with a basket and book in hand. The trees swayed slowly while the forest was empty. When she walked in, she expected to see many small animals in the area, such as rabbits, birds, squirrels, and more. But she was alone. Her footsteps were the only noise. She didn't pay much attention and only hummed while searching for a place to lay down. To her luck, she found a lake leading to a spot nearby perfect for laying; the sun wouldn't be a problem, but the most perfect one is.

She laid down her basket and sat beside it. The view. One thing she notices is that the view here of the castle of the fairies is magnificent. Admiring the scenery, she reluctantly turned to her book before delving into the pages until the sun was setting.

The next day, she came back with a blanket, papers, and a quill. She was taking this time to write for her grandmother and a friend who was living in the village of Harvest. When she went back home yesterday, her parents were overjoyed once more, to the point of making her snacks more than usual. She couldn't help but puzzle at their reactions but nonetheless shook her head in response. Her hand took out a piece of bun from the basket while she was writing and began eating when she suddenly heard voices in her left side. Her eyes moved in that direction as she watched the bushes shake violently while the voice grew louder.

"I swear I smelled delicious food around here; just let me prove it to you, oh!" Their eyes met. Her eyes widened as she stared at his yellow-green slit eyes. Both look so shocked at each other, to the point of freezing from where they stand. They stood there for a good few minutes before he, the boy around her age, looked down at what she was holding and furrowed his eyebrows.

"What are you going to do with that?" the boy questioned. Y/N looked down at where he was pointing, and embarrassment started to creep on her. Unbeknownst to her, she uses the half-eaten bun as a weapon in his direction. A laughable choice indeed.

"Nothing. " was all she could reply before quickly removing the bun. They stayed silent until another figure emerged behind the boy, who was inches taller than him. She noticed the strange color of his hair and unique eyes but didn't comment.

"Sebek, if you wanted—oh hi." The other boy paused as he noticed her. Y/N waved shyly in his direction. He returned the gesture before apologizing that they may have bothered her. To which she disagreed and smiled politely.The person who was called Sebek furrowed his eyebrows more and crossed his arms while he assessed her. She, who didn't like being assessed, carefully watched him before making her move.

"If you would excuse me, I have business to attend to." She spoke, drained by this ordeal, and used this time to pack her belongings while thinking of moving to another place for a spot. Her little secret place wasn't so secret anymore. How sad that she likes this place, but oh well. The two boys looked at each other before a bicker started to take place.

"You really should apologize, you know."

"I didn't even do anything; I just stumbled into this place, okay?"

"I don't suppose my father would agree; walking into someone else's place was a boundary."

Y/N noted he was smart. And she bows to him mentally. Sebek made a hmp sound before mumbling something incoherently while she watched in disdain.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"Nothing of your concern, human; move along," he said loudly at that one. This irked her a little; who was he to order her around?

"Hmm, is that so? Well, I guess I have to put away these delicious foods I have here. Oh, what a shame." y/n knows no bounds. She tested his emotions by putting her hand in her cheek and sighed theatrically.

"I guessed if I don't eat them all, I might as well put them somewhere else."

"You!" he accused, but a grumbled sound echoed around them. The unique-eyed boy and y/n look in Sebek's direction with amusement dancing in their eyes. Sebek tensed, a blush emerging from his cheeks, and he screamed.

"Tch, what are you all looking at?!"

~~~

Sebek started to eat quickly while the other boy only sat by their side. The three of them sat down after the event, not uttering another word, when she noticed she still hadn't known their names. Sebek could be a nickname, for all she knows.

"Sorry for interrupting, but my name is y/n L/n. And you two are?" y/n introduced slowly. She watches their interaction by simply glancing at each other before Sebek gulps down his food while proudly exclaiming.

"I'm Sebek Zigvolt, and this is Silver, a knight in training to serve his great highness Malleus Sama." Y/N flinched at the volume of his voice but couldn't hide her excitement.

"Really?! As in the prince himself?!"

"Of course, human!"

"Not to you, you crocodile!"

"you!-"

Silver watches as they bicker with a smile on his face. It was a peaceful day.

~~~

"Ah, my, I apologize for staying here; do you two live nearby?" y/n asked after minutes of arguing with Sebek, finally switching to a sleepy silver who was surrounded by animals at his side. Y/N watches dumbfoundedly, amazed at how many animals are at his side at once, before petting a rabbit who launches at her.

"Not far from here, there is a cabin where I live with my father. Sebek, on the other hand, was merely visiting for training. And you?" he managed to reply despite the drowsiness enveloping him. Y/N merely chuckled and replied that she was also nearby with her parents.

"So what are you doing in this forest?" Sebek, despite their earlier debates leaving him in a sour mood, asked while cleaning the messes he made. Y/N paused for a short period of time, debating whether to tell him she was forced to explore the forest or bribed by gifts. She picked the latter.

"Oh well, my parents wanted me to explore the woods and simply chose this spot for my resting." straight to the point, or so she thought. Sebek nodded in response before noticing an inked piece of paper at the side.

"Hey, what is this?" he questioned before taking the paper into his hands. He didn't even look at the paper; he just stared at her before holding it out to her. Y/N appreciated his gesture and quickly folded the papers, placing the quill inside her pockets.

"Just a letter," she said, not indulgent him more, and soon looked up at the sky and was surprised to see how much time had passed. When she left, the sun was only at its peak, but now the sunset was at its highest.

"Well, I should head back now; it's getting late. I really enjoyed our conversation." She truly did; she smiled and waved at the two who waved her goodbye with a smile on their faces. Y/N turned to Sebek with a small smirk on her face.

"I would bring tomorrow a special meal just for you."

"Please do not ever return!"

She did return with a basket full of handmade foods her mother and she had made. Watching Sebek's expression when she truly came amused her. What an eventful day!

Hi everyone! Thank you for taking your time to read this story, this is my first time posting thus I hope you all enjoyed this little entry so I was kinda nervious about this one but I was planning for a continuation to this story what do you think? Leave your comments below!

#twst sebek x reader #disney twst #twst #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twst sebek #twst silver #sebek zigvolt #sebek zigvolt x reader #twst imagines #silver #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland sebek #sebek x reader #twst x y/n

[bloodlust-1]

The Consort ₊⁺જ⁀➴

NSWF | Explicit 18+ | Angst | Blood | Ascended Astarion | Spawn Tav | Dark | Smut | Trauma | Stockholm Syndrome | Violence

Ascended Astarion x fem Tav

Chapter: 7 | White Fox

Summary: In a tumultuous tale of love, power, and betrayal, Tav finds herself entangled in a complex relationship with Astarion, a heartless vampire lord who will stop at nothing to maintain control over his newfound spawn. As Tav witnesses Astarion’s transformation and descent into darkness, their love is put to the ultimate test amidst love triangles, drama, and the pursuit of world domination. Redemption seems like an elusive goal while Tav grapples with the realization of who her lover has truly become.

UPDATED EVERY MONDAY.

Notes: I love posting these chapters, it makes me so excited like I'm hiding the world's biggest secret x')

AO3 LINK | MASTER LIST

Lovely photo by @astarionposting

The sound of Baldur’s Gate bustle fading into the distance. Tav was silent, her fingers absentmindedly playing with one of her locs as they strolled along the rugged path.

Ross peaked his eyes to the side from time to time - studying Tav's demeanor and body language. She seemed...anxious.

“Why did you come to Baldur’s Gate?” Ross broke the silence. He was both curious and intrigued.

Tav looked up, a half smile crossing her features, “Well...I was forced against my will to be mentally pregnant with a tadpole and I had no choice but to come to Baldur's Gate, of course."

Ross rolled his eyes with a breathy chuckle. He shook his head with a smile, "Yeah, yeah, of course. I mean - I would love to hear your alternative story."

Getting vulnerable with Ross was already a line Tav crossed, "I came to the city to escape some personal things back home…" She paused, a tree's shadow passing over her face as she continued, “That’s when I got captured by the illithids.”

"Well it sounds like you have really good luck." Ross chuckled sarcastically and Tav joined him, shrugging at his jokes.

Tav folded her arms and stared down at her feet, cursing herself in her head.

Stop trauma dumping, don't be stupid.

Tav collected herself, carefully reevaluating her words with Ross, “I just needed to be on my own.”

An outcast who desperately wanted security. It all made sense to Ross now.

The way Tav completely acted on her emotions and confided in him; not even knowing each other for long.

He listened carefully to her words, nodding his head ever so often. And he noticed the way she'd hesitate between words as if she was debating on holding back or not.

She didn't know whether this was okay or not.

To be open and honest after Astarion.

"I know the feeling. So, you're not alone." With a shrug, Ross's eyes trailed up to the canopy of trees above their heads, admiring the scenery. Glimmers of moonlight peeked threw the trees and landed perfectly on them.

Tav hugged herself and swayed side to side drunkenly, pure bliss on her face, "Ahh - I've missed this. Nature is so peaceful and calming, unlike this noisy city." She twirled herself, basking in the moonlight.

ROSS'S POV

"Oh, look at you, being one with nature and all. Next thing you know, you’ll be hugging a tree and telling me all about your newfound friends, the squirrels." With a sarcastic tone, his eyes twinkled mischievously.

Tav tilted her head in confusion for a moment before Ross’s joke finally registered in her mind. She shot him a playful glare and mustered an upside-down smile. “Ha, ha - very funny,” she mocked his laugh, nudging him softly with her elbow.

Who knew my night would turn so interesting.

Ross’s smirk widened as he continued to tease Tav. “You know, Tav, I think I should just bring the forest to you next time. Maybe plant a few trees in your backyard.”

Tav rolled her eyes at Ross’s antics. “Suuure, because that’s exactly the same as being surrounded by the real thing.” 

Ha. Cute.

Wait -

No, not cute.

Do not think like that.

Before he could open his mouth for another teasing comment, Tav halted, tilting her ear out with narrow eyes, "Shhh."

He stood still. listening.

The faint noise of rustling.

Ross reached for his back pocket knife, clutching the handle tightly with a strong stance.

Tav carefully stepped out of her shoes and closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath.

Ross stared at her with confusion, squinting his eyes and whispering at her, "What are you doing?" He was completely bewildered by her actions.

Who in their right mind would go barefoot on a wooded trail? Maybe she was some kind of forest hippie.

Tav gently shushed Ross again, opening her eyes to reveal the soft glow of magic. She hunched over before being smothered in a yellow glow, undergoing her wild shape right before Ross's eyes. The sight of her metamorphosis left him in complete awe and shock.

Ross stepped back with hesitation, his pupils dilating to the bright yellow light against the darkness.

His mouth practically hung open, dumbfounded.

No fucking way...

Tav took the form of a beautiful white fox with pale albino eyes, blinking silently in the stillness right at him. His heart sank. It's like those eyes pierced into his soul and he couldn't believe Tav was a druid.

Ross gazed down at the fox in admiration, unable to contain his excitement, “Holy shit...You’re a druid!”

Ross kneeled down slowly, reaching out his hand to touch the white fox. Her fur felt silky and thick, prickly at the ends. With a gentle nuzzle and a single nod, Tav gently brushed her muzzle against his fingers.

Ross smiled at Tav with a glint of amazement in his eyes.

“Amazing,” he murmured under his breath.

“I’ll let you hunt.” He stepped back, watching as the white fox darted off into the bushes, completely taken back from the sudden magic. Ross watch the silver fox rustle in the bushes.

Ross reached down, picked up her shoes, and walked along the trail, searching for Tav. It went silent for some time, and he had wondered where she ran off to.

His mind drifted off. He thought of his sister, Rosaline and her searing revenge on Astarion. Their younger brother was taken so long ago by this pale elf with white hair. Rosaline swore she'd never forget that face, and well - she didn't.

He recalled all those years of Rosaline studying their kind, vampires. He'd never seen his sister so invested with hatred, and she stopped at nothing.

Death always felt like a cruel joke to me

Losing his younger brother shattered his family in ways he couldn’t even begin to describe. The emptiness that consumed them was suffocating. Rosaline was so full of hate and remorse. Even till this day, she would never move on from their lost; she couldn’t accept his death.

Growing up as part of the Gur tribe of monster hunters, Ross knew him and his sister needed to protect their true identity. He could never be honest with Tav, even if he wanted to. He didn't want to betray his sister. His only family.

I need to be careful around Tav.

A deep inhale

and a soft exhale.

Ross’s heart pounded in his chest as a faint squeak echoed in his ears. His eyes darted to the direction of rustling in the woods.

He saw the fox, her piercing gaze locked onto him. In her mouth, she clutched a freshly caught brown hare, its blood staining the silver fur around her mouth. 

Tav dropped the hare As she slowly morphed back into her elf form, the animalistic features slowly melted away. Her hands, once clawed and rough, were now bare and soft against the dirt.

The straps of her shirt had fallen loose around her shoulders, revealing her bare skin. The moonlight glowed against her dark licorice skin, twinkling in all her high points. The once neatly style locs of hair was now slightly tousled over her face, leaving Ross in awe.

unable to look away from the softness of her skin, his mind raced faster than his heart and the breath caught in his Adam's apple. The sight of her was almost surreal, like something out of a dream.

Suddenly, Tav’s eyes fluttered open, meeting his gaze. Her eyes was filled with a gentleness that took Ross’s breath away. Her lips stained in the blood of the hare, leaving a trail of red that ran down her chin.

Those eerie pearl eyes with parted lips to catch her breath.

It was both terrifying and mesmerizing.

This was a side of her that he had never seen before, and yet it was one that he couldn’t help but be drawn to.

Despite the gruesome scene before him, there was a sense of peace and contentment. And as he watched her lay there, gently catching her breath and coming back to herself, he knew he was fucked.

*BADUMP*

Her lips moved, but the air went silent for him. He couldn't hear, not when his mind was so loud. She's so...pretty.

….

…

..

.

*BADUMP*

….

…

..

.

Tav tilted her head, "Ross...?"

*BADUMP*

….

…

..

.

He blinked aimlessly and shook his head softly, “Huh?”

His cheeks flushed slightly as he averted his gaze, not wanting Tav to even get a glance of him caught off guard.

Feeling a sudden warmth in his cheeks, Ross cleared his throat and gently pointed out, “Your straps… they’re falling a bit.”

He tried to keep his tone casual in attempt to mask the slight embarrassment he felt at noticing such a detail. His heart raced, waiting for her response.

Tav gasped to herself out of embarrassment "Shit..", she reached up and adjusted her straps, pulling them back over her shoulders.

"Sorry about that,” she said apologetically, “You’re okay to look now.”

He didn't anticipate this, to be caught off guard by...Shoulders? Of all things.

I feel like one of those stupid little royal boys whose never seen a piece of skin.

What the fuck is wrong with me.

Stop it.

No.

Ross silently cursed himself for being so simple minded, kicking the rocks between his feet on the ground. Hoping Tav hadn't noticed the fever in his cheeks.

"This isn't going to be very pretty." Tav picked up the lifeless hare and brought it to her lips, "Im going to apologize now." She glanced at him with a slight sadness in her eyes before closing them.

Her fangs pierced into the hare, swallowing the fresh slick as Ross watched in silence. He noticed the way she hunched over, desperately drinking as if she was starving.

The survival instincts kicked in and Ross marveled at how truthful Tav was in her vampirism and animal nature.

Not everyone can accept what they've become.

Especially so openly.

END ROSS'S POV

The metallic tang of the blood filled her cheeks, sending a shiver of pleasure down her spine. With hunger gnawing at her insides, Tav savored the bittersweetness mixed with an earthy flavor.

The emptiness in her stomach was replaced by a comforting fullness. Tav then pulled away the drained hare, and she began to dig a shallow grave in the soft dirt beside her.

Gently, Tav placed the lifeless body into the shallow grave, covered it with dirt, and whispered a soft prayer to Silvanus.

Ross neatly placed her shoes in front of her and rubbed the top of her messy hair, "You forgot these back there earlier." He tried his best to uplift her mood.

She chuckled and smiled at him. Tav stood up, and wiped the remnants of blood from her lips with her forearm, smudging the blood across her cheek, "Thanks." She said, barely above a whisper while stepping back into her shoes.

A sigh escaped her lips as she gazed down at the makeshift grave and the smallest of what felt like ant bites started to prick her skin.

"Tav.." Ross stared at the sky, the light glimpse of orange painted on the horizon, "You need to get out of here." a small cold sweat ran down his back.

His expression faded into concern, "I'll find you another night."

Another night?

Not so sure about that.

I don't think that'd be a good idea. I've already done too much today.

Tav somberly shook her head no, the smell of metallic still potent on her lips, "Thank you for your company...I - appreciate it."

And with that, she wild-shaped back into the silver fox. Only then she would be fast enough to make it back home before the day broke again.

Ross watched the fox run out of the woods, leaving him completely lonely in his own silence. The sad look in her eyes made his stomach turn and he just didn't trust what would happen next.

For better or for worse, Ross wanted nothing more than peace.

But at what cost?

~

Ross got home, they lived in a small apartment attached to many others. Though the siblings seemed very well put together and clean, they were pretty middle class.

A couple of coin would be nice though.

Not like Tav or Astarion, they lived in a beautiful palace. Dark and depressing looking but still beautiful nonetheless.

Ross settled a small pouch of coins onto an unstable wooden table, it made a jingle noise that got the attention of Rosaline.

She sat in the corner of the room, jotting down profusely in an old leather journal. Her head jolted up by the noise and she recoiled back, “That’s all you got tonight?”

Ross shrugged, “Stealing isn’t always as easy as you think.” He took off his shirt and tossed it to the side of the room, “Besides this should be enough to cover the rent for the next 2 months.”

Rosaline's eyes traveled to the thrown shirt, glaring back at him in disapproval, “You better pick that up. Unlike you, I actually have manners for my roommate.”

“Oh, then I’ll be glad to add that I prefer a roommate who isn’t obsessed with vampires.” Ross leaned over, picking up the tossed shirt.

Rosaline narrowed her eyes at her brother, clearly irritated, “You know it’s more than that. Don’t fucking make me sound crazy.”

Nonchalantly, “Whatever.”

Ross opened a wooden drawer, dug for a shirt, and put it over his head. A small smile crept on his lips at the thought of recent events, unknowingly the flush in his cheeks warmed his face.

She lowered her journal and placed it beside the armrest of the chair. Rosaline glanced over at Ross, a faint smile playing on her lips. “What’s the stupid smile for?” she teased, raising an eyebrow.

“What?” he replied, slightly puzzled.

“You’re smiling. It’s weird,” Rosaline pointed out with amusement in her face.

Ross chuckled softly. “I didn’t notice,” he admitted with a hint of sheepishness in his voice.

He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to tame those mental images of Tav's loosened shirt.

Rosaline leaned back in her chair, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Met someone at that disgusting pub you keep going to?” She teased, taking a jab at his choice of hangout spot. “You know I hope they’re classier than that place, but considering they go there, they can’t be that fantastic.”

Ross quipped to her jab, “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

She rolled her eyes, “Just stay focused, I’m so close to getting his attention.”

The memory of Tav still lingered in his head. From her teary eyes to the bite marks on her neck. Ross's gaze simply landed on Rosaline, uneasy with information she probably would want to know.

In a soft voice, he questioned her, “How’s that going?”

“Decent, I think,” Rosaline replied thoughtfully. “I tried to proposition him to work together as business partners. I could bribe the writers for The Gazette, and get his name out there to the people.” She paused, a flicker of frustration crossing her features. “It’s so annoying that I have to play this role when I just want to stab him right in the heart every time I see him.”

Plainly with furrowed brows, "Mhm."

She snapped at him, hurt and anger in her eyes, “Can you act like you give a damn?”

His and Tav's interactions gnawed at him. And just as he tried to bite his tongue, the words came spilling out, “I may have seen someone...tonight.”

His sister paused, a glimmer of light reflected in her eyes, and there was a moment of fleeting silence.

“Who.”

Ross hesitated, glancing around aimlessly. Guilt and anxiousness knotted his stomach...

Shit.

“Remember that girl we saw Astarion with?” He raised an eyebrow, waiting for Rosaline to connect the dots.

She scuffed dismissively, “She's just an accessory, a mere shadow trailing behind him wherever he goes.”

A sense of urgency tainted his words as his voice dropped to a whisper, "…I saw her tonight."

"Continue."

"You're downplaying their relationship. It's deeper than we thought."

Rosaline simply nodded slowly. Ross avoided eye contact with her by averting his gaze. Her hands clenched tightly into fists and with glossed-over eyes, Rosaline glared at her brother with a burning intensity.

The tension was palpable as she took a deep breath and whispered softly to herself, “Interesting.”

"Tell me everything."

Next part here

Any thoughts? Comment 👇🏼 I love to engage!

Hi, hi 🫶🏼 hope everyone enjoyed their Easter!

Fun Fact: Any animal that Tav wild forms into is going to be albino :] It's a little quark since she has very pale eyes in elf form.

Following Tav and Ross (the TENTION) and ahhhh it's such a nail-biter because you KNOW shit is ganna get stickyyy! >-<

See ya next week to follow up Astarion and Tav after their big argument!

#the consort #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #bg3 tav #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion bg3 #astarion angst #astarion fanfic #astarion x reader #astarion series #ascended astarion

[madlysage]

my stardew valley bachelorette headcanons… again super niche and definitely just me being insufferable

leah

- grew up in the south and still has a little twang when she speaks

- loves fleetwood mac and all 70s rock

- tried to make her own wine and elliott made harvey give her a stern lecture on botulism

- a serial dater with a string of bad ex-boyfriends in her wake (she was just a lesbian all along but that wasn’t accepted where she was growing up)

- a baby gay who still gets flustered when flirting with girls

- befriended the hat mouse and is still trying to convince elliott that he’s real

- dyes her hair but insists she’s a natural redhead (her mom was one and she always wanted to emulate her)

i always picture kennedy walsh (icon that she is)

haley

- the closet is glass babe (lesbian/possibly pan)

- wanted to go to college for photography and studio art but was worried it would put financial strain on emily

- secret little crush on leah because she loves her art and her artistic eye

- her and emily were raised by a single dad who passed away unexpectedly- it’s part of the reason she has a hard time opening up to ppl

- left anonymous mean notes about clint on the town message board for WEEKS after she found out he was hitting on emily

- uses her dad’s camera: it’s very sentimental to her

perf- would def be into clean girl makeup

emily

- nobody is quite sure about emily’s sexuality… including emily!

- very into spirituality- crystals, spirits, astrology, luck etc.

- makes alex uncomfortable anytime he comes over: she doesn’t realize she’s starting contentious political debates with him

- makes all her own clothes and hasn’t bought anything new in 3 years

- writes sweet notes to shane on the bar napkins when she can see he’s rlly going through it

- wears crystals in her bras

- stole haley’s diamond earrings for a gem mediation (it did not go over well)

- makes elliott quills with her parrot’s dropped feathers

but picture the hair blue ya know: don’t cast elle fanning as a character in a fandom challenge level impossible bro

penny

- bicon

- my image of penny is Filipino… stardew needs more diversity gonna be so real

- went to college for education and got her teaching license but had to move back home because of the debt

- learned how to do maru’s hair after she complained about how long it took

- watches old movies with maru every weekend and they do a book swap once a month

- sam is the only one who will eat her cooking (but he’ll eat anything… especially if penny made it)

- lets maru come in and give guest teaching sessions in science and math to jas and vincent

-started drinking coffee just to have an excuse to drop some off to maru and harvey at work

likeeeee beabadoobee just makes the perf penny i can’t explain it’s the vibe

maru

- lesbian queen

- my autistic love

- graduated highschool early: got a full ride to school and double majored in nursing and engineering before going to nursing school (graduated early from that too ofc)

- lives off of coffee and gets a daily lecture on caffeine consumption from harvey

- is harvey’s wingman (neither of them have any rizz…)

- goes to the bar just to quiz emily on astrology

- sets up ferris beuller type traps when she wants to sneak out and not deal with demetrius

-used to sneak into sebastian’s room during thunderstorms and still does sometimes

laura harrier my love my light… just picture her with glasses

abigail

- straight but likes to makeout with girls when she’s drunk

- goes to college online (majoring in business for pierre but double minoring in classics and anthropology) - her parents wouldn’t let her go in person because she’s too “reckless”

- brought home a squirrel once and hid it in her room for weeks

-used to do competitive irish dance as a kid (seems like something caroline would make her do)

- has a huge crush on sam and will flirt with sebastian to make him jealous

- pierced her own ears six times at once and made caroline faint when she saw her

- has a tattoo on her thigh that’s she’s desperately hiding from her parents

-helped emily dye her hair for the first time

- hooked up with alex once but will never admit it

can’t explain it she just gives kiernan - with purple hair ofc

#stardew valley #sdv headcanons #sdv #stardew fanfic #i know i’m crazy #i think way too much about this #can you tell i’m a bit of an abigail hater… #maru and penny r in love change my mind U CAN’T

[tenderyellowbluefics]

For Whom The Bell Tolls

Summary: When Vecna's curse gets a hold of you, there is only one song, Eddie knows for sure could save you.

Warnings: Swearing, slight angst, fluff.

No specific pronouns are stated ;)

Any advice on my writing is welcomed and appreciated!

"Dustin? Wheeler? Anyone? Fuck!"

Eddie shouted, tossing the walkie-talkie to the side.

The crew has been gone for an unusual amount of time now, and Eddies freaked out. We were in the main house but ended up back in the boat house after Eddie heard a noise and got spooked. That noise was in fact a squirrel, but Eddie insisted on staying in hiding.

"Eddie," I started, reaching my hand to place on his shoulder, careful not to startle him, "I'm sure everything’s fine, Steve and Dustin are probably just arguing and can't hear the walkie."

"I don't know-" He started, then stopped, once he was facing me, and his once slightly worried expression became extremely worried. "Y/N, your nose." he motioned to my face.

I reached a hand up to touch my nose and felt a cold liquid coming from it. Looking down to inspect my hand, I discovered it was blood. My blood.

I had been having nosebleeds all week, I assumed it was due to the dry weather and my roommate's tendency to never turn the AC off, especially at night. But then the headaches started to come, followed by the nightmares. Terrible nightmares.

I tried not to think too much Into it.

I lifted my head to look at Eddie only to be met with an empty space he previously occupied.

"Eddie?" I called out, frantically looking around, afraid he might have gotten spooked and ran off again.

Then I heard it.

The chime.

I had been hearing it all week. I thought I was just going crazy. It was the sound of a grandfather clock. I knew that because when I was small my grandmother had one in her home. It was over 100 years old and ragged. It always made me feel uneasy, as if the hands of the clock were going to jump through the glass window and strangle me while simultaneously deafening me with the chime.

I shook my head, attempting to escape the thoughts, and peaked out the window, trying to see if I could see Eddie anywhere.

With no luck, I decided to venture to the house, hoping to find Eddie there. As I walked through the wooded area, every branch that broke beneath my step seemed to become louder and louder. It felt as if the tree branches were replaced with bones.

As I turned the corner of the house, my heart started to pound faster. As if I was walking right into my own doom. I creeped my hand out to push the half opened screen door open, and there it was again.

The clocks chime.

Only this time the chime was much louder than any other time before. My body went into complete shock as I heard a low voice growl the words.

“Y/N, It’s so nice to see you”

Eddie’s POV

I couldn’t understand what was happening, one-second y/n was trying to reassure me and the next she was standing frozen while her eyes rolled in the back of her head. She was doing the same thing Chrissy did before that thing killed her.

I couldn’t let that happen to y/n. I’ve been a coward my whole fucking life but for this once I had to do something. I couldn’t lose her to this thing.

But I didn’t know what the hell to do. All I could possibly do was cling to her body while crying and begging her to wake up, to not leave me.

Then I remembered something Steve mentioned.

When max was in the boat house her headphones were playing a song constantly on repeat. I asked why and Steve said when someone loves a song, it can be used as some sort of a lifeline from the upside down to the normal world.

I scrambled to grab y/n’s cassette player that was laying on the couch before dumping a bag of tapes out and spreading them across the floor. Frantically searching for one in particular, the one I knew would for sure be her lifeline.

I popped it in the cassette player and jammed the chord connected to the headphones into the headphone jack. As I rushed back over to y/n, I feared I was too late, as her body started levitating. I leaped forward, grabbing her and pinning her to the ground. With my one arm wrapped around her waist tightly, I used the other to place the headset on her head and hit play.

I buried my face in her neck as I started to hear the song bleed out from the headphones.

For Whom The Bell Tolls was playing.

Your POV

As the evil slimy creature picked me up off the ground, I could feel my life coming to a close. They say when you die your life flashes before your eyes. But all I could think about or see was Eddie.

His beautiful smile, his sweet voice. How he hated when I gave him compliments in front of people because his cheeks would turn the brightest shade of red every time. How badass he looked playing his guitar. And how I was leaving him alone and scared.

I let a single tear fall from my eyes as I closed them. Expecting to never open them again.

When I heard a chime.

Not the normal chime I’ve been hearing from a grandfather clock, the chime of a bell ringing.

I knew that bell anywhere, it was the beginning of,

For Whom The Bell Tolls

I was starstruck, I had managed to win tickets to a Metallica show and was standing in front of James, Kirk, Lars, and Cliff. The group of men who’s music I lived and breathed.

I was so distracted by the band that the fact I was in the middle of a mosh pit slipped my mind. My eyes that were once on the band, were now staring at the ceiling of the arena the show was being held in as I lay on my back.

“Shit! Shit! Jesus H Christ!”

A man half-shouted from somewhere near in the crowd.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry.”

The man panted, now standing over me with a hand reached out for me.

I took his help with standing up, I couldn’t see much besides teased hair and pyro but when the lights flickered onto the crowd I saw one of the most beautiful men I had ever seen.

His perfectly curled and tossed dusky brunette hair shined in the lights of the show. His beautifully sculpted face, his lips contorted into a perfect smile. All left me in a daze.

“Sorry, that was my fault, I got a little too excited.” he chuckled, breaking me from my trance.

I opened my mouth to say something to him but was quickly distracted by James, the lead singer’s, voice booming through the mic.

“This next song is titled For Whom The Bell Tolls!”

He announced

The whole arena erupted, and mine and the man’s eyes lit up.

“This is my favorite song!” We both exclaimed simultaneously while grinning at each other.

“Holy shit we are like totally gonna be best friends but after this song! The names Eddie by the way!” He told me before turning his attention back to the stage a throwing devil horns up in the air.

That was our song, a strange pick I know. But it was what made us fall in love. Plus he claims he hates love songs despite singing along anytime I put one on.

My eyes shifted past the creature in front of me to an opening in the red clouds. Between the red fog, I could see Eddie crying while holding me. I could almost hear him.

“Please come back.”

Is all he kept blubbering.

My heart felt as though it was cracking into a million pieces. All I wanted to do was hold him and run my fingers through his long hair. I had to get to him.

With my arms and legs pinned to the structure behind me, I was left with only one possible weapon.

My teeth.

With the creature's long skinny hand reaching only a few inches from my face, I was able to reach and bite onto one of its fingers. I could’ve never prepared myself for the taste. It tasted like every single disgusting taste in the world thrown together, just burnt. I shook my head back and forth biting down harder, when I heard the skin ripping and felt the finger detach from the creature's hand.

It let out an ear-splitting scream and everything let go at once as it staggered backward.

I fell to the ground on my hands and knees immediately, I looked up to make sure the opening was still there and I wasn’t imagining things. It was. Eddie was still holding me, and our song was still playing. But now there was an extra voice, it was Eddie’s humming along to the song.

I got up and ran.

Ran as fast as I possibly could, I didn’t look back or think about that creature, I just kept running. I could hear it screaming and running towards me. But I couldn’t stop, I had to get out. I narrowed my vision in on Eddie. I focused on our song. And my heart beat picked up, my fear vanished, and my feet ran faster than ever before.

There I was, in the boat house, in Eddie’s arms.

“Eddie?” I questioned reaching a hand up to touch his face, not quite sure if this was real or not.

His head that was previously buried in the crook of my neck shot up. Frantically searching my face for confirmation that I was in fact back in the real world.

“Oh my god!” He choked out, burying his face back into my neck.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m here now.” I ran my fingers through his slightly knotted hair, placing a kiss to his head.

“I was so afraid. I thought- I thought- ” he stammered now facing me upright again, cupping my face with his soft hands.

“You saved me.” I said, pulling a hand up to touch his hand now placed upon my face.

He scoffed, and looked down.

“I was gone. I had already made my amends with death when I heard our song. And I saw you. I knew I had to fight. For you”

His head shot back up, his eyes now filled with love, “I love you y/n, more than anything. I can’t possibly describe what you mean to me.”

“same,” I spoke in a low voice with a soft grin. Placing a light kiss to his lips, while his arms tightened around me. Savoring the feeling and the taste now that I know how quickly this could all be gone.

After pulling apart we paused for a moment, just to look into each others loving eyes.

“Are we interrupting something?” Dustin asked in a sarcastic tone with a huge grin.

I was so wrapped up in the moment I didn’t notice the door opening.

Eddie laughed a sarcastic chuckle and raised his middle finger.

“Okay well, now you’re not getting these spaghetti O’s!” Dustin said in a high-pitched tone, walking back out of the door.

“You wanna help me kill this son of a bitch?” Eddie questioned jokingly with a grin turning his attention back to me.

“Of course.” I laughed

“Well cmon,” he said standing up reaching a hand to help me up, “let’s go get our spaghetti O’s back sweetheart.” He laughed, looking down at me.

#eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #stranger things eddie #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie imagine #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #st4 #stranger things 4 #joseph quinn #steve harrington #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine

[pigeontheoneandonly]

A Happy Feast

So I wrote a BG3 ficlet about my Durge. I'm not tagging it to avoid spoilers, but if you're not expecting some depravity, we're not playing the same game...

AO3 Link

They rolled back into camp near to midday, earlier than expected, but what was expected when a tadpole measured one’s life day by day, anyhow.  Nobody felt good about it.  But all that could currently be said had been aired, at length, and so they deflected into lesser complaints.  Today, it was the menu.

“Not so much as a rabbit track,” Karlach moaned, as she stripped a sapling for tent poles. 

Lae’zel was wiping her face with cool stream water.  “The pleasures of this realm are few, but I would not regret the opportunity to savor a roast.”

“You’d have better luck roasting a stick,” Gale grumbled.  He’d appointed himself keeper of their stores, and knew down to the last dry carrot what they had available to eat.  And it wasn’t as bad as all that, at least not today—if one liked eating vegetarian.

“A stick!” Astarion scoffed, and then made to appear hurt at their suspicious looks.  “What?  I’m as hungry as any, I assure you.”

Nalarin said nothing, herself.  Food was…food.  A necessity and little more.  But these…people hadn’t run.  They didn’t know her, true, not know her, but most others she’d met since their little accident had at least a sense about her, so surely her companions here did as well.  And yet they let her share their fire, travel with them, drew her into conversations, eventually.  Shared their food.  Like they wanted her to live, too.

And so Nalarin quietly took up her bow and headed back out into the wood.

Her errand took some time.  When she returned, she found the others occupied in their own private tasks following a cold lunch, as had become habit on days that ended early. That suited her.  Her task would take some time, with so little experience.

She made the fire away from the camp.  No need for our clothes to stink of cooking, Gale had said, the first time she’d watched him.  If the intensity of her observation had worried him, he hadn’t said.  They were all like that.  Willing to ignore a bit of discomfort for the sake of her company.  It made an unfamiliar curl of warmth in the pit of her stomach, pleased without quite knowing why.  She let that feeling fill her as she fussed over the pots, laboriously scrubbed and chopped and stirred and skewered.  It was good to have something to feel and something to do; it emptied her mind entirely.

By the time the food was ready, Nalarin was thoroughly streaked and speckled with various remnants of her efforts.  She thought she’d got the doneness of everything right, the turnips and carrots in the ash, the meat on the spit, the greens just lightly wilted.  Of the seasoning she was less sure, and the herbs were a certain disaster.  But she could eat it and not make a face, and so she declared it suitable and called everyone over for dinner.

Exclamations of surprise made the warm pool in her belly grow.  “I hunted,” she explained, when they asked how?! 

“If we’d known you were a good tracker, we’d have asked days ago,” Shadowheart declared, plopping down with a loaded plate.  “What else are you hiding?”

Nalarin shrugged, but it hadn’t been a serious accusation.  More pleased, almost teasing.  She drummed her fingertips into the dirt.  Too excited, almost, to eat herself.

After a time, a squirrel crept down from a nearby tree and scampered up her shoulder to shelter in a nest of her thick hair.  She absently reached up to rub its tiny head.  She liked animals; they didn’t make the dreams rise in her, not the way people did, and so it was safe to love them. Self-control with people was so…heavy.  Wearying.  Not having to fight it… bliss itself.

Afraid! it chittered, crowding into her scalp.

Her strokes grew soothing, her thoughts on all the small traps in the forest, designed to break small bodies but not to kill.  The small corpses, pinned into the earth and unmolested by the scavengers, because even animals knew profanity when they smelled it. 

As she cupped the creature in the curve of her palm, across the fire Wyll finished a bite and smiled at her.  “I didn’t know you could cook.”

“Neither did I.”  Wyll made her want to control herself.  To draw a knife over flesh and barely cut.  He was a monster much like her; one who made what he wished of his monster.

Her eyes narrowed and shifted to Astarion.  There was a monster not like her.  One who leaned into the monster, one who did not realize or perhaps did not care that it devoured him, inch after inch.  One who did not recognize why he could not rid himself of the monster’s hollow feeling.  The sort of monster, in fact, who made her think one day hers might pit itself against his.

Of all of them at this dinner, she thought he might realize.  But he gave his portion a hard stare, shot her a glance she did not answer, and then returned for another bite.  “Wonderful boar,” he declared.

“Really?” Karlach swallowed.  “I thought it was rat!  They can get quite gamey, you know.”

The tempo of Karlach’s mechanized heart never quite left her sensitive ear.  To take it apart, piece by piece, examine its workings closely and their destruction… Little could be sweeter.  Except, perhaps, to hear again her braying laugh, feel her solidity at her side along the road. 

Maybe they were her friends, too.  Nalarin’s memories might be gone, but some deep part of her was immensely certain she’d never had people who were friends.

Her own plate remained empty.  The conversation continued, but they were used to her not talking much, and their sated voices swirling around her, contented by her effort, was food enough.

* * *

Much later, after the pots were cleaned, the cookfire doused, and everyone off to bed, Nalarin bent over the stream to wash her face clean of the last of the soot.  She often stayed up late.  The cool silence of night felt more home than the day. 

“It is a very terrible thing thou hadst wrought,” said Withers, startling her into splashing her clothes.

But she straightened, and looked at him directly.  “I don’t care for onions.  When what we have is onions, Gale disguises them and doesn’t tell me they’re in the food, so I don’t have to think about it.  How is what I did different?”

His wizened face regarded her for long moments, as if weighing her sincerity.  Her honesty never ceased to surprise him.  But in this, she was confident.  How could it be different?

“Perhaps not,” he answered at last, shrugging, all bony eloquence.  “Still, I wonder—how wouldst thy companions respond, if they but knew they partook in roast dwarf?”

Her mind again saw the little traps and the poor broken bodies she had buried in small graves.  “He was a very bad dwarf.”

Withers looked down his nose at her, an impressive feat given he had no nose.  “Thou wouldst know.”

Nalarin’s lips curved in the dark.  Yes.

She would.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #fanfiction #the dark urge #durge

[bramble-scramble]

A Bite for Good Luck

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

(Early, but I'm impatient)

Sooo, I haven't felt like writing in a while, and I'm still mostly inactive here, but I'm not done being... myself. And I may have been really inspired by @hostess-of-horror yet again. Thus I present to you a little vampire-themed Phandrow thing that came to me in a fit of insomnia. It's kinda saucy! Nothing explicit, but, y'know. Vampire stuff.

Enjoy 🩸 🧛

The poet was working again. A multitude of candles illuminated his words, their light reflected in the polished mahogany desk seen on either side of his parchment.

It was hard to believe it had been just over a month since he had received the letter. The summons. So much had changed since then; he had lived a lifetime in those weeks. Become something of a different creature.

He had always been one to stay up late, but now... now the night was his world, and he spent the days languishing. There was little else he could do. He hardly considered... perhaps hardly remembered... the orange and red hues of his homeland, the plump squirrels and healthy pumpkins. His brain was filled with the howl of wolves, the flap of bats' wings- the sounds of the castle and its grounds, which he was forbidden to leave.

Of course, he had hardly known it would come to all this. Despite Sweetlopek's fears, despite Dryad's dire warnings, he had said goodbye to them both. That was the hardest part. And yet... and yet he would do it again. He would make the same choice, knowing it all. He had been more prolific in these past few weeks than in a year or more combined. Because, after all...

Sir Poet-Warden, the letter had said. I request your services. I am in need of a chronicler of my life, my deeds. In return I can offer you room and board, sturdier and more reliable than that with which I know you currently make do. Moreover, while you are under my roof, I can make you a promise. No curse shall harm you, no ill luck will cross my threshold. I know it may be hard to believe, but my powers are great. You may write as much as you desire, on any subject, with no fear of cosmic retribution. In return I only require that you not leave my premises until released, and handle my particular needs with your utmost devotion and priority.

Ever yours,

Lord Tom Phan

Woodrow kept the letter near his heart, in his coat pocket, but he need not pull it out to see it clearly before him. The red ink, the lovely cursive, the gramophone seal... he had memorized every word before he had even set foot in the castle.

The poet found himself stuck on a rhyme, and got up to stretch. As he arose, a sudden rush of dizziness greeted him. He swooned, and stretched out his paws to catch himself on the desk. Stars and sparkles danced in his eyes behind his glasses. When he had regained himself, he lifted a paw and looked down at it in the candle-light. It was hard to remember how pink it had once been. It was certainly a very pale pink now. He wondered how the rest of him must look - he had not seen his own face in an age. There were no mirrors here. Why would there be?

He sat back down on the chair, wondering what Sweets and Dryad would think if they could see him now. But even more than them, he missed... her. Jinx. His cloud. She was not allowed past the threshold. A storm had taken up residence outside the courtyard, a thick and constant rain in the woods that deterred any visitors even moreso than normal. But, true to the master's word, ill fortune could not come in.

...Was all of this really worth it?

The sky outside was beginning to brighten, ever so slightly. Woodrow knew what that meant. He got up and drew the blinds closed in preparation.

Yes. It was worth it.

And before long, the familiar huge shadow filled the doorway to his room. The poet could sense it before he even saw it.

"You're home," said the writer, turning joyously, ready to approach. There was his lord indeed, his black cape, his piercing eyes, his imposing form- but the poet stopped short. There was red on the corners of his lord's mouth, and in his bulbous transparent belly, streaks and rivulets of crimson sloshed and whirled.

"You- you have eaten already," said Woodrow in shock.

"Only a little, my dear," came the reply. "A small hors d'oeuvre."

"Am I no longer enough for you?"

"Of course not," was the cooing answer, and in a smooth movement the master of the house was upon his guest, one paw on his back, the other caressing his hair. "Nothing can satisfy me the way you can. Perish the thought."

Woodrow smiled in relief. He thought he might be blushing, but- he doubted he had the means.

"It is only..." the Lord continued, "I fear I have been pushing too hard. Taking too much. I fear to let you sate me alone."

"I am fine," said the poet. "Truly."

"I do not think so, my darling." He smiled, sweetly, his pointed fangs digging into his lower lip. "And yet... I am still rather hungry, if not famished. So if you are ready-"

"I have been waiting all night," said the other breathlessly. "I have tried to keep myself warm for you."

"Very well, very well," chuckled the ghost. With ease, he lifted the other and carried him to the bed, laying him down, taking off his glasses, settling his head on the red velvet pillow that awaited. The Lord reached for the pink bow that his beloved wore - every morning, it was there, wrapped tightly, keeping the poet's collar close around his neck; and to untie it was to open a present, the same one every day, but one that never got stale. It was a test of patience, and yet, a ritual. With paws trembling in anticipation, Lord Phan pulled at the ribbon until it loosened, then took it off and set it aside. He opened up the collar of his beloved like peeling back the rind of an exquisite fruit. And then-

Woodrow gasped as the fangs found their familiar indentations, and pierced inwards. He may have gotten used to the pain, but he would never fully deaden to it. And he didn't want to.

Despite his claims, his Lord seemed no less hungry tonight than any other. The familiar suction of the skin, the desperate movement of the tongue to clean up any missed drop- the poet moaned and turned his head, an instinctive bodily reaction to such sensation - and soon found a paw on the other side of his face, turning it gently but firmly back - the message was clear: stay still.

"Mmmnm," the soft, involuntary, almost musical hums of bliss that emanated from the Lord as he fed made Woodrow want to melt into the blankets. He had never had much reason to be proud of his body, but apparently his blood was a delicacy. And of that, he was happy... he was lucky, after all... he was precious, wanted, needed so desperately... he...

He passed out.

----

Some time later - he knew not when, for the blinds kept the room as dark as night at all times - he awoke. His coat had been removed in favor of warm blankets, and while he was tucked under them, laying on top of them at his side was his Lord, gently stroking his hair and his cheeks.

"Are you happy?" was the first thing he mumbled as he came to. In his blurred vision, he could make out the red swirls gorging his beloved's clear tummy, cascading around the musical device at his center.

"Of course, my delight. You need never ask," said the vampire-ghost, red still streaking his chin. And yet... he frowned. "But again, I must warn you. When I get started on you, it is ever so hard to stop. And I fear... well, perhaps we shall take a week off, or so."

"My... My Lord..." said the poet in sorrow. He needed the break, of course. And yet...

"Look at this, mon cœur." The Phantom touched Woodrow's hand and brought it up to his face, and the poet saw that his own paw-pad was barely distinguishable from the white fur around it. "You are not well. I shall bring you whatever you desire, and as much of it as you need, whlie you recover your precious health."

Woodrow nodded, feeling that sleep would soon overtake him again. "Pumpkin and carrot soup," he said weakly.

"What?"

"Soup..." he repeated. "The way Sweets makes it... I shall write him for the recipe, when I... when I am up. That's what I need. I'll be... myself in... no time." And he closed his eyes, his breathing slow and heavy.

Lord Phan kissed him on the forehead, leaving a mark of red. He tucked him in even tighter, and arose, heading for his coffin, for his own daily rest.

#mario + rabbids #mario plus rabbids #phandrow #woodrow #ts woodrow #the phantom of the bwahpera #soh vampire au

[bobbybutterfly]

IT’S MY BIRTHDAY Y’ALL!!!

Last year of being a fucking teenager! LET’S GOOO!

I wanted to make a special post. But I was too busy drawing Squirrel and Hedgehog characters inspired by the main six ponies from My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. I wonder what is the crossover between the SaH and MLP fandom. I know of one blog.

First of all we got Rainbow Dash as a crow captain. I think this is the first time I’m posting my new way of drawing antro birds. Previously I drew them with hands. They were supposed to be like rolled up wings but I don’t think I conveyed it visually. It was funny to imagine them flying by just flapping their hands about. Like the bird people in Bojack Horseman and Tuca and Birdy. It works for those shows but not for my edgy Squirrel and Hedgehog AU.

I made Rainbow Dash a crow because WE NEED MORE CROW OCs. The crows in the show are treated horribly! There’s no named crow character and when they show up they’re usually beaten up and killed. I want to make a crow OC challenge where we all make a crow OC (duh). I’ll probably make a separate shorter post announcing it. I don’t know how many people actually read these rambles. But you can start drawing your OCs if you want.

Now. Back on topic. Rainbow Dash. Her backstory. Simple. I’ve got NO IDEAS. Personality wise she’s the same as the show. Bossy tomboy.

Next up. Fluttershy. I never actually drawn a duck besides Murori. Well. And a couple background ducks. Which reminds me I should add wings to them.

There’s a little more to her. Once again. Personality same as the show. She didn’t want to join the military. Obviously, look at her! In my AU the Duck Village is very patriarchal. Women aren’t even allowed to fly. Fluttershy would be fine with that. But tough luck. With the war everyone who can fly has to apply.

Lastly for today Pinkie Pie. I could have done the pun of Porkie Pie but… just as with crows we need more rabbit OCs. I’ve seen one and that’s it.

The backstory for her is that she ran away from her abusive family to Flower Hill. She’s always cheerful and bit of a clown. Believing everyone deserves a laugh especially during something as tough as a war.

I had fun designing all of them. I’ve been watching a lot of Jackie Drojko on YouTube so I know this is far from a professional job. But I had fun with choosing the colours. Adding little details such as making Pinkie Pie extra fluffy and doing the colourful bangs. The second batch is going to be better. I got more used to drawing digitally again. I thought these glorified sketches would be done faster digitally.

With that I leave you for today. I got to eat my dinner before it goes cold. Please let me know what you think of these designs.

#oc challenge #CROW OCS WHERE?! #WE NEED MORE CROWS YA’LL #AND FOR THAT MATTER MORE RABBIT OCS #my art #squirrel and hedgehog #mlp fim #mlp redesign #furry art #procreate #digital art #fanart

[fillinforlater]

Loathing Love: Lusty Loop (Pt. 3)

Male Reader x Kang Hyewon x Jo Yuri

Length: 3568 words

Tags: threesome, cunnilingus, lesbian sex, doggy style, tit’s play, passionate sex, shygay!Hyewon, singer!Yuri

TW: mention of hate sex

Inspiration: “Jazz Bar” by Dreamcatcher + @friskyriskywhisky​

Credit: GOAT @worldsover for editing. Thank you!

(A/N: IT’S BACK! The third chapter of L4 is out, finally. I am so sorry for delaying this for so long and I hope you are satisfied with the result. Enjoy one of my favorite IZ*ONE ships.)

“I‘m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Even as you stroll through the park, the words that Eunbi whined in her sleep still linger in your mind. Like a parasite, they have found their way into whatever part of your brain is responsible for emotional pain—and now it’s starting to make you insane.

It’s Eunbi’s fault. She has to pay for cheating on you, and the best way she can is with her body. This is what you truly believed when you ravished her last night, but now, you feel a lot less comfortable thinking about that guy who ravished her the night before. Was it all a lie you told yourself that things would be fine if she confessed and submitted?  That a week of hate-filled sex could salvage things?

What idiot actually believes these things?

Many hours have passed. Many times you have seen this exact tree currently in front of you. Many rings were formed over the passing years, making this old oak right in the heart of the city exceptional and impressive. If only your marriage could be like that. Just comparable would be enough.

Mindlessly, you play with the ring on your left finger. Why were you here again? The trees, the bushes, the grass, they won’t have an answer for you; neither do the birds, squirrels, or strangers passing by. It might all be in vain already. Because of Eunbi, there is no way to return back in time to stop your heart from crumbling..

Get to Hyewon.

You gasp at the sudden realization. The random, senseless strolling had your mind fuzzy and you forgot why you even left the house in the first place. A quick glance at your phone: it’s already Saturday Night. If your luck strikes again, Hyewon will be at the same bar, at the same time, with the same attitude.

Send an aimless prayer that it will be like that and get back to your car. The radio shall not taunt you tonight.

#

The bar is a lot more crowded than last time. People have placed their chairs and bar stools in front of a small wooden stage in a cramped yet cozy corner of the main room. Excited chatter and laughter, mixed with the occasional colliding of beer glasses, make the atmosphere light and refreshing—except for the building heat caused by a lack of fresh air.

For a second, the busy bartender looks away from the crowd and sees you. You must look dumbfounded by how drastically a place can change overnight. He smirks and points at the far side of the room, somewhere behind the main crowd.

A squint of your eyes and you see her: Hyewon, leaning at a wall and closely eyeing the stage as if someone would jump out of the ground at any second. With a tip to your imaginary cap, you thank the mind-reading bartender, who only winks before preparing the next set of cocktails and beverages.

After a couple of hasty steps, you are able to squeeze yourself through a couple of playful discussions and cheerful conversations, getting to Hyewon without causing an accident. Before you can open your mouth and get her attention, everything goes dark, except for a lone spotlight above the stage.

Like they all have one mouth, the crowd gasps and then falls silent at the sound of a piano coming from two small speakers. The clacking of high heels on wood makes dozens of eyes focus on who enters the stage: a small, extraordinarily pretty girl with brown hair and in a light pink, almost see-through dress. Her eyes are focused, stern even, but they show an undeniable passion.

In a second of only slow piano play, you whisper to get Hyewon to notice you:

“Hey, Hyewon. I—”

“Psst! Sorry, but shut up. I wanna hear this.”

Her reply is definitive—and so is her index finger sealing your lips. Hyewon’s eyes are locked on the girl on stage, so you follow her lead to find out where this is going.

The second she starts singing, the tension that was building up evaporates. Her voice is magnificent, soothing, husky, melancholic. The way she pronounces each word and hits every sound leaves the entire crowd covered in goosebumps. Nothing tops a ballad, accompanied by a slow piano, especially if the vocalist is that talented.

Now you understand why all these people gathered here. They may not be many, but it still feels like a massive crowd at a concert or festival. Time flies by with each of her syllables, the perfect pitch, a magnificent voice. You feel like flying. Never before has this happened. The faint smell of liquor and wood adds unimaginable layers to this experience.

From the corner of your eye, the sight of Hyewon snaps you back to reality: the beauty drools heavily—even her tongue hangs out of her mouth. Her eyes are immovably fixed on the singing girl. Naughty fingers rub her covered crotch.

Only now do you notice that Hyewon’s dress has the same pastel color scheme as the girl on stage. Of course, it looks entirely different, especially with the exposed shoulders, but the biggest difference has to be a damp spot at Hyewon’s crotch.

Her fingers dig into the fabric, directly into where the wetness comes from. The way she rubs and curls each of her digits along her pussy lips and clit probably drenches her panties in arousal—if she is even wearing them.

Another strange, yet extremely exciting cocktail of emotions hits you as the vocalist hits her final, ethereal notes. Applause. There is second-hand embarrassment, there is lewd excitement, and there is reasonable fear. But beyond all, there is a throbbing erection poking at your zipper, caused by a horny fantasy that is growing with every moment you stare at the mewling Hyewon.

“Hyewon—ah, fuck it!”

Yank Hyewon up at her wrist and out of her self-indulged trance. After a loud yelp of surprise, she hides her body and subsequently, her juice-stained dress behind you. You part the diverging crowd easily. Most people already engage in the next interesting activity, only a few walk up and praise the beautiful girl who sang her heart out a minute ago.

You wait patiently until all of them wander away and step forward, suddenly on eye-level wíth the vocalist because she decided to kneel on stage. Hyewon’s trembling hands dig into your back like she is trying to get to your spine, but you swallow down your pain and continue with your plan.

“Hey, I, uhm… I wanted to say that your singing was absolutely insane. It gave me goosebumps!” you straight up say, smiling all throughout.

“Aw, I’m so glad you liked it, thank you!”

The bright smile which makes her eyes disappear infects you immediately.

“I felt like I was flying. This was an ethereal experience, and I am so grateful I got to witness it for free. Your voice is a gift.”

“Thank you, thank you!”

“I’m serious. I wish I got an encore that would go to infinity and beyond!”

“Oh my, oh my.” The girl laughs and playfully hits your shoulder “You really don’t hold back your praises, kind stranger.”

“And you deserve every single one, beautiful stran—"

“My name is Yuri, you handsome guy!”

A gasp from behind you. It acts as a reminder that Hyewon is still hiding behind you, not involved in the conversation, although you started it for her.

It is your first time playing wingman and things are going very well. Revealing Hyewon, who obviously is more than interested in Yuri, will be a challenge, however. After all, her entire crotch is dark and damp. This could end in shameful embarrassment.

The gasp did not go unnoticed by Yuri:

“Oh, someone is hiding behind you. A friend? Are they shy?”

“Well, usually she is not shy, but… I guess something about you is different.”

Yuri moves her head back in surprise. Unabashed by the blush forming on her pale cheeks, she releases her stream of words onto you and Hyewon:

“Wait, what do you mean? I’m different? Hey, you. Can I see you? I won’t bite. I just wanna know what you mean.”

You feel Hyewon’s chin graze your back and her head peek out from your side. The moment Yuri meets her eyes is so intense that even a bystander like you can feel a billion sparkles light up the small distance between them. If magic exists, it’s odd.

Yuri is like a magnet for Hyewon: although she has good reason to hide herself, she moves out of her haven of safety and close to Yuri’s bright, angelic face, until she almost touches it.

“H-hello, you.”

“H-hey, Yuri. Yo-your singing w-was beautiful.”

“Well, uhm, thank you a lot.”

“Ju-just like y-y-y…”

You clear your throat to get their attention.

“Yuri, this is Hyewon. Hyewon, this is Yuri.”

“Hyewon… that’s a pretty name.”

Yuri’s voice, husky and sultry, and her expression, amazed and lewd, make your brain malfunction: it sends every last droplet of blood down to your length, while even infinite droplets of sweat are not enough to cool it down. You suspect Hyewon is the same: she presses her lower body against the wooden stage but squeezes a hand in between to most likely rub her folds.

“N-No! Yuri i-is a w-way p-prettier name.”

A delicate finger runs across Hyewon’s red and sweaty cheek, from the lobe of her ear to her slightly parted lips. She visibly melts under Yuri’s touch, who gets on her knees and bows down from the stage to Hyewon’s ear. A short wave of words, undetectable to you, makes Hyewon’s glassy eyes grow wide open as the glisten of drool sparkles on her lips.

Out of nowhere and with incredible haste, Yuri pinches her chin and points at the door Hyewon pulled you through when you first met her. The hallway behind it—you can still clearly remember it—and Hyewon’s room at the end of it. Yuri’s intentions are unmistakable.

“Your courage needs to be rewarded, Mister Handsome.”

#

If your mind weren’t void of blood and reason, Yuri’s way of dragging you and Hyewon into the room might have been awkward. But you can see it in Hyewon’s eyes—and you feel it in your own, lust-filled gaze: it doesn’t matter if anyone noticed the wet juices all over the dress or your throbbing boner towering in your jeans.

The door slams shut. Immediately, Yuri wraps each of her arms around yours and Hyewon’s waist, lips forming a passionate smile when she slowly whispers into the dimly lit room:

“I am so happy you came up to me, Mister. I haven’t done it in months. And… to be honest… I have never done it with another woman.”

She lowers her head to hide what you assume is shame or embarrassment in her usually confident expression. Except for a short sigh by Hyewon, everyone is quiet. Nothing happens and the strong, sexual tension might end in awkwardness. No one is taking the lead, until…

“I-I will show y-you, Yuri.”

Hyewon guides the vocalist to the bed. Four shoes fall onto the wooden floor as the two beautiful ladies lay down next to each other, and you are the only one to witness it. The only one to witness how Hyewon cups Yuri’s face and carefully inches closer, until two pairs of lips meet. The only one to witness how two hands experience Hyewon’s body and drag along the perfect curvature, until they reach the wet spot.

“Hy-Hyewon—”

“This is, this is what you do to me, Yuri.”

“I—Hyewon, you, you are so beautiful.”

Their lips crash again, passionately exchanging love and saliva. Yuri’s inexperience with girls quickly shows, however, and Hyewon takes control. She hikes up Yuri’s dress until her adorable white panties are visible. The vocalist gasps when Hyewon’s fingers run across the insides of her thighs, collecting all the slick juices and even brushing against her clothed pussy.

“A-are you okay?” Hyewon asks, looking deeply into Yuri’s eyes. She will—you are certain of that—detect every lie that might come out of Yuri’s mouth.

“Y-yes. Please don’t s-stop, pretty girl.”

Being witness to such loving foreplay might be already great for you, but you would be a fool to not join what might be a one-in-a-million opportunity.

Remove your shirt and jeans, leave them next to the collection of shoes next to the bed. Then you decide to lay behind Yuri, spooning her so that there is enough space for everyone. Your erection pokes her small butt cheeks, and she mewls into another Hyewon-dominated kiss.

“You mind if I join? You two seem very occupied,” you say while kissing Yuri’s nape and caressing her back through her dress.

“Not at all,” Hyewon whispers and gets rid of her dress, basically throwing it over her head into the room. Yuri and you ogle at the sexy lingerie Hyewon decided to wear tonight: a lace bra in purple and lace panties which would have been in the same color if they weren’t wet.

Yuri is a lot slower when removing her outfit, although there is nothing to be ashamed of. Her body is in excellent shape and the plain, white undergarments may fit her better than the slinky purple of Hyewon—not that you were in the situation to complain.

“This is all so… new for me. I’m excited, but—”

“Are you okay if we lead the way?” Hyewon asks while stroking Yuri’s brown hair and removing it from her sweaty forehead. The small woman nods.

“Good then. How about some spooning while I—”

Hyewon cuts off her sentence by taking one of Yuri’s tits into her mouth and roughly sucking it. With a fierce look and fingers pointing to Yuri’s entrance, you get her idea and immediately follow suit.

From behind, you insert your cock in the small girl’s thigh gap and align yourself with the moist pussy. A gentle thrust later, and you start to penetrate Yuri. The texture leaves you in awe and the hotness makes you groan in pleasure.

Yuri is completely overwhelmed by the attack on her sensitive spots. Instinctively, her legs open, giving you easy access to fuck her faster, while Hyewon rubs her hard clit. Yuri covers her mouth to deafen her moans and screams, but her voice is too powerful. You can hear her getting louder and probably closer already.

Hyewon finishes sucking on Yuri’s small yet magnificent breasts and kisses all over her tummy, down to her hips. With licks that increase in frequency and speed, she arrives at where you thrust in and out of her. Hyewon looks at Yuri’s cute pussy and how your big cock fills it up, then she starts violently sucking on Yuri’s clit.

“Oh my God! F-fuck, Hyewon, Mister—too much!”

Because you still did not have the chance to touch her tits, your hands wrap around Yuri’s small frame and creep up to her chest. The very moment you graze her nipples, her walls clench down hard onto you, and a waterfall of words comes out of her mouth:

“Ah, fuck! S-so fucking good! P-please don’t stop, never stop! I’m so close, ah, oh my God! Why is this so good?!”

You look down at Hyewon, but she only has eyes for Yuri’s clit and how to stimulate it more and more and more. Her own hands rub along those smooth inner thighs and then up to those puffed lips, adding yet another element to push Yuri over the edge. With a strong suck on her clit while deeply looking into her eyes, Hyewon finishes her off.

A scream. Then a stream of juice. Yuri’s orgasm shakes the bed, the ground, the earth.

Yet it’s still not over.

Both you and Hyewon continue without pause through Yuri’s climax. The goal: getting her into the next. No regrets, just pleasure. After all, this is one in a million for the two of you—and for Hyewon, it might be even more meaningful than you initially thought.

Yuri’s limbs shake violently, so you grab her legs to keep them apart. It would be harder to fuck her if they closed, although her thigh gap definitely isn’t bad. Maybe something you can do later.

Hyewon does something similar to Yuri’s trembling hands by intertwining them with hers. She stares upwards and you know their eyes meet, but you only see Hyewon’s, which are filled with lust and love. So it feels only natural that Hyewon continues to pleasure Yuri’s hard nub with all her oral power.

“Hye-Hye-Hyewon! H-harder, please! Mister, faster! P-please, again!”

Gladly, you oblige Yuri’s screams. Each move of your hips is now amplified by you jamming her down on your cock with your hands. Loud slaps at the point of collision on Yuri’s ass, but it’s all drowned out by her screams. You see her sweaty hands as they dig into Hyewon’s messy, wet, yet absolutely stunning hair. The wetness must mostly be Yuri’s girl juice because she squirts a lot while cumming.

And she already does again.

The tightness squeezing repeatedly makes your head dizzy. Only milliseconds before you would have busted, you are able to pull out from probably the hottest pussy you have ever made love to. Your cock feels the soft skin of Yuri’s thighs that shake like the rest of her body does—except for her hands that try to drown Hyewon in her convulsing heat.

“You are too good, oh my God! Y-your t-tongue, ah!”

Hyewon frees her head with feral force and you are only able to watch as she pins down Yuri underneath her. The purple panties fly away into the room, which will probably never be rid of the smell of sex.

You adjust yourself behind them to take in a scenery of indescribable hotness: Hyewon’s leaking slit is only a couple of inches above Yuri’s. Her hairless, red entrance still twitches, while Hyewon’s seems to beg for any kind of stimulation. Further up, two tongues thoroughly touch, travel, tingle the opposing mouth. Hyewon lets a lot of saliva and freshly collected juice run into Yuri’s mouth.

Nothing could make this scene any hotter—

“Hey! You gonna put it in or do I have to beg?” Hyewon mewls, as Yuri tears down her bra, not bothering to open it.

She does not need to beg. She doesn’t even have to wait. Your cock slips into her needy hole with ease and it’s just like when you had sex with her back then. Doggystyle, on the same bed, in the same bar.

However this time, there is no hate involved, but another beautiful woman, massaging and licking Hyewon’s voluptuous breasts underneath. Hyewon yelps when you start to pound. Although the pace is a lot slower than last time, the texture of her insides is still impeccable and you can’t help but grab her amazing hips to give your thrusts more leverage.

A hiss from Hyewon. A whisper from Yuri. Whatever happened might be excused with Yuri’s lack of experience—maybe she went too far or too hard, but it seems to not make a difference, as you watch Hyewon guide the flushed girl back to her mounds. Her moans grow louder, intensely passionate even, whenever Yuri gets more involved.

Your admiration for her slippery, tight hole, which is a fitting stimulant for your cock, mixes with the admiration for her smooth, curved backside. A feast for the eyes, from her ass to the back of her head. Instinctively, your hands run all over the perfect paleness. You only know of one other woman that rivals Hyewon in this department—but it pains thinking about her.

Plow faster to forget, although it might be to no avail. From your half-opened, pained eyes you see Hyewon focusing on Yuri, and Yuri focusing on Hyewon’s chest, her midriff, her pussy. Eventually, the small woman is between your knees while she licks the hard clit above the snatch you fuck.

Hyewon’s head crashes onto the mattress. Her hand shoves Yuri’s face at what you assume is just the right spot. With excessive trembles in her thighs and high-pitched moans, she announces her orgasm.

“Y-Yuri, oh my God, so good! Fuck, I’m—ah!”

You could swear that something has never been tighter than Hyewon is right now. Yuri’s tongue did things to the bisexual woman that you could have never dreamed of. With four, five exhausting thrusts, you make her walls white, your mind white. For a second, all worries matter not—yet they still dawn on you.

You pull out and back off with unstable feet. Hyewon’s hole convulses, pushing your seed out of her and onto Yuri’s unexpecting face. She gasps in an incredibly sexy voice, just to follow it up with a giggle in the same pitch.

Hyewon crawls down to her and licks your white batter from Yuri’s nose, chin, throat, cheeks—lips. They indulge in a kiss. Every sloppy sound fills the room, reaches your ear, and finally flips a switch in your head.

It was quite obvious that Hyewon fell for Yuri during the show.

Quite obvious that you are the third wheel in this threesome, a glorified dildo.

Quite obvious that this will be a one-time thing.

Should I go back? Back to Eunbi?

#kpop smut #izone smut #male reader smut #male reader #male reader insert #hyewon smut #yuri smut #hyeyul smut #female idol smut

[cryptidcasanova]

For your Hellfire Haunts challenge could I get a ghost!Eddie with "Til death do us part"? I'm a sucker for ghost x human romances

I love this idea so much. Absolutely, @gr00vyr0se! Thanks for sending this in!

Haunted Hearts

Ghost!Eddie Munson x GN Reader

Words: 5.4k

Be warned: this is dangerously soft and tender.

You weren't sure what possessed you to stop at the estate sale. 

You were driving through an old flyover town called...Hanking? Hawks? You were on the road for so long that you couldn't remember. 

With a slow blink, you realized you wouldn't be getting much farther without needing a break. A stop would be a nice break on your eyes, and you parked your car with a stretch. Your shoulders ached, and you slouched before checking your phone. 

Your map gave you an estimated arrival time of four more hours on the road, four more hours before making it home and crashing into your own bed. 

Yeah, you resigned. A break would have been very nice.

The old trailer park home was almost forgotten among the greenery of the midwest. Vines of ivy twisted up and over the windows. The house was a memory of a dying age, and wildlife had taken over the parking lots. Humidity clung low, and you stood with a soft breath. In the distance, you could hear cardinals chirping and squirrels chittering in the trees.

Oh, Indiana. 

Only one other car was parked in the lot, and there was a large poster listing the estate sale on the front porch.

Munson Estate Sale. 

Saturday and Sunday, 10:00-6:00

You stopped at the door as you carried yourself up the creaking steps. The place looked abandoned.

"Hello?" You called into the trailer, tapping on the side of the doorframe. 

You heard a rustle inside and decided to test your luck. You walked into the old, faded trailer with a frown. It looked, well, it looked sad. Neglected. Forgotten.

You wandered the living room aimlessly, looking at the faded wallpaper and dust filtering through the lights.

There wasn't a lot in the living room. Some part of you thought that there were only old baseball caps and German beer mugs left over, but a sinking feeling in your stomach told you otherwise. There must not have been a lot to begin with. 

"Can I help you?" 

The next thing you knew, you were spinning around with a jump, clutching your hand to your chest. 

An old woman was carrying a box from one of the back rooms. She was crouched over, her spine curved, and her hair starting to grey from behind thick glasses. She was struggling with the box.

"Here, let me help," You offered quickly, holding your hands out to grab the other side of the cardboard. It was heavy, and you helped her set it up on the kitchen counter before getting a good look inside.

It was a box of old vinyl records and cassette tapes. No wonder why it was so heavy.

"Thanks," the woman offered, looking around the kitchenette. "Now, if I only knew where I put my tape – oh!" She exclaimed once she found it. 

Her clubbed, wrinkled fingers urged the packing tape up in a stripe, and you closed the box's flaps to silently help her. When you shut the lid, you noticed words scribbled on one of the flaps in an old, dried-out sharpie. You moved your fingers to get a better look.

Eddie 

"Well, I suppose you're here to look around," The woman said, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. You looked down at her face with a nod. "Most of the belongings are going to be donated after today. Let me know if you have any questions."

You didn't need to be told twice, backing away from the main room and heading toward the back of the trailer.

The trailer was smaller on the inside. Aside from the living room and kitchenette, there was a small bathroom, a linen closet, and one bedroom at the end of the hallway.

The bedroom was your only point of interest. 

The room almost looked untouched, as if the dust and cobwebs were older than time let on. 

The air was stale and lingering with the smell of old cigarettes. You couldn't help but scrunch up your nose. 

You walked around carefully, noticing old band posters pinned to the walls. Clothes and boxes were stuffed under the bed frame, and the bed itself was unmade. No sheets, no duvet. Trinkets and more loose cassette tapes were scattered across the mattress. 

It looked much less like an old estate sale and more like a teenage boy's bedroom. 

You walked around the mess, looking at an old, beat-up dresser. Half of the drawer knobs were missing, and your hand lingered over one of the drawers before pulling it toward you. 

You were half expecting to see a home of spiders but were surprised. The drawer was relatively organized under a mess of socks. Old band t-shirts were hidden underneath. You pulled at an old Metallica shirt and grinned. 

Oh, what the hell. 

You folded it under your arm and pushed the hardwood closed. As you looked up in the dresser mirror, your eye caught something from across the room. You spun around on your heel, turning to the corner of the room.

It was a corner of old mismatched band gear, stacks of loose-leaf paper, and a guitar. A nice guitar. 

"What in the world are you doing here?" You asked aloud, your eyebrows knitting together in a moment of confusion. 

You plucked the guitar from its place in the corner - not even on a stand - and gave it a thoughtful strum. It could use some new strings and a little love, but it was in great shape. And you were in no condition to talk. Maybe it was finally time you learned how to play.

But what was it doing in a place like this? It was definitely custom. 

You looked down at it thoughtfully.

"It looks like you're coming home with me."

You didn't see the hint of movement, a shadow, in the mirror's reflection as you walked out of the room.

Your house smelled like soft linens. It was warm, comforting, and clean. 

The simple home sat stationary, waiting for your eager return. When you finally pulled the door open after your trip, it enveloped you in an embrace of laundry detergent and cashmere.

You were home at last.

You toed off your shoes before you even locked the door. You let your bag fall to the floor with an unceremonious thud before addressing the outsider.

If your home was anything, it was soft. It was gentle, humble, and welcoming. The rugged Warlock guitar was a compelling centerpiece. It was sharp and loud and aggressive against the softness of the room.  

Your house didn't smell like cheap cologne and cigarettes. 

You weren't waiting for your things to become dusty heirlooms. 

And you thought that there was some life left in the old guitar. You let out a relaxed groan as you sat down on the couch. You lounged back, your eyes narrowing at the clock on the stovetop. It was getting late. 

You pulled the guitar into your lap and looked it over, your eye catching on an engraving that left an uneven groove under your fingertips.

Corroded Coffin.

Your eyebrows hitched curiously before you traced the letters. There was fondness in your heart. You found the needle in the haystack and in the middle of a shit-stain of a town, nonetheless.

You hesitantly placed one hand on the neck and let it rest in your lap while strumming the strings. They were tight and brittle with old age. Everything was out of tune. Maybe you should get new strings before giving it a real test drive. 

You made a mental list – milk, bread, guitar strings. You smirked, shaking your head. Maybe you could buy a book for beginners or look up tutorials on your phone. It would be a labor of love.

When a yawn bubbled up in your chest, you knew it was time for bed. You washed your face and brushed your teeth before falling between the sheets. You didn't pay any attention to the shadows hugging the corners of your bedroom.

What you didn't expect was to have a dream frightening enough to wake you up. 

It was still dark outside when you were startled up, and when you checked your phone, it was only about three in the morning. Your eyes burned as you looked at the light. 

You were dreaming of skies of lightning and hordes of disfigured bats. They were swarming over you. You couldn't run away or move at all.

You were trapped.

When you finally got a grip, the lingering feeling of fear and loneliness crept into the corners of your heart. You were scared and alone. You turned on the lights before sitting up, flailing slightly to get out from the blankets, trapping you to the mattress.

You felt like crying.

A rush of emotion left you winded, and all you wanted to do was not to be so alone.

So, you got up, turned on the lights and the tv in the living room, and let the soft sounds of old reruns soothe the tension in your shoulders.

You started a batch of laundry from the trip, and the whirl of water added to the cacophony of noise you relied on to fill the space. Searching high and low, you found an old bag of chocolate chips in your panty. You tried your hand at the chocolate chip cookie recipe on the back of it.

You definitely didn't have all the ingredients it required. But after scrolling on your phone for twenty minutes, you found helpful alternatives and were back on track.

Old cartoons were playing on the TV, and you turned to the old tune of the Thundercats intro. You raised an eyebrow with mild confusion. It had been years since you watched it. You swore your dad kept an old VHS movie tape of Thundercats at his house. But you followed the glow of the TV to your couch and plopped down. 

It was almost calming to watch the grainy art frames. You sat there, subconsciously strumming at the guitar still perched next to you. You sat there until the cookies were done baking and went back to watching the old shows.

Time passed by like syrup, slowly and thickly in your brain. You swapped out the laundry, put away the cookies, and gave the guitar another thoughtful strum before deciding to try and go back to bed. 

The memories of the nightmare had faded, and you almost felt silly for how scared you felt.

This time, your bed looked far more inviting. You plugged in your phone, cursed under your breath at how late it was getting, and finally crawled back under the covers. You were tired. Your mind could calm down, and it took very little time for you to get comfy enough to doze. 

You were right there, on the cusp of being swept under the current. A faint thought passed over you, and you swore you could hear the low thrum of a melody from the other room. But you were too far gone to focus on it. Sleep claimed you quickly, deeply.

You didn't have any dreams the rest of the night.

In the morning, you dragged your feet out of bed and swore you were dozing off in the shower. Not even coffee helped. It felt like a blanket was weighing you down. 

All your hours on the road must have finally caught up with you.

You felt irritable, like you weren't entirely comfortable in your own house, and paced around the rooms.

Nothing you wore felt right. You eyed the old Metallica shirt carefully as you pulled it out of the dryer. After running your thumb along the old lettering, you smiled. You decided to pair it with some old jeans and finally felt comfortable.

But you were still so out of it that you didn't notice the guitar or the snapped strings splayed along the couch as you hurried out the door.

It was better at work, surprisingly. You worked a whole shift and felt better than you had all morning. The tension in your shoulders was gone; more than once, you looked down at the Metallica shirt affectionately.

You felt much better when you made it to the grocery store. The fluorescents in the store were bright, and you rubbed your eyes, trying to focus. You had written out your list of staples to get. At the bottom of your list, you remembered quickly scribbling down chocolate milk on your way out the door. You grinned and shook your head.

You must have really had a tough night. It had been years since you actively thought about chocolate milk. Maybe it was the late-night baking or cartoons. There was a nagging feeling in your belly to hurry up as you walked down the aisles. You bypassed the refrigerated section altogether, and sitting on a shelf next to juice and Caprisuns, you found a case of Yoo-hoos.

You couldn't recall if your parents bought them when you were a kid, but you reached out to the packaging anyways. And it wasn't long after that you were checking out and loading up your trunk with groceries: You had other stops to make, after all.

The music store was intimidating. 

You walked past aisles of sheet music to the guitar gear with small steps. There were acoustic and electric guitars hanging on the walls, and boxes of amps and speakers were below them. There was so much to look at. You were never particularly musically inclined - but your parents were. Maybe it was time to learn for yourself.

The shop was quaint, and there might have only been two or three other customers while you looked for strings. And when you found them? Oh man, there were a bunch of them. 

The strings ranged by guitar type and brand, and you quickly got frazzled. The price range was obscene. When you finally fidgeted toward a box, you hesitated.

"It's a rip-off."

The words were followed by a low whisper of a breath, and you looked over your shoulder. You wanted to see who was giving their feedback. But the only person remotely close by was an older employee.

You could have sworn the voice sounded younger.

You looked around again before shaking your head, forgetting about it. You reached for some middle-of-the-road strings and a winder. They didn't break the bank, and you even snagged a couple of fun guitar picks before calling it a night.

The house was much colder than you remembered leaving it that morning.

You crossed your arms after putting away groceries, frowning when you looked at the thermostat. It was the same as you had left it. With a grumble, you turned up the heat and moved to your bedroom, throwing on a sweatshirt.

You baked a frozen pizza and drank a Yoohoo for dinner before settling in on the couch, but you felt restless. You couldn't stay still.

It was only then that you noticed a couple of snapped guitar strings. You cursed under your breath, your fingers blindly reaching toward the music shop bag.

Three tutorial videos and a half an hour later, you were winding, clipping, and pulling the first string into place, only to find out it was the wrong string. It was an arduous task. 

Your back ached, and you groaned, sitting up from your spot. You let your arms stretch above you and thought the air was warmer.

When you finally blinked away from the guitar, you felt a chilled rush of goosebumps on your neck and tilted your head back to the kitchen. For a moment, you thought you saw something just out of the corner of your eye.

You bit your lip anxiously. It didn't matter what you thought. You were feeling paranoid.

Or at least you thought you were paranoid. 

Days started to pass quickly as you got back into a work rhythm. You still woke up to strange dreams. They were all vivid at the moment, but none were as frightening as the initial dream of bats and lightning. Their memories sizzled out when you woke up, but you were left with a strange feeling.

Every morning you woke up with a heaviness in your bones that wouldn't cease until you left the house. 

There was a chill in the air regardless of the warm fall sun. Sometimes you felt like you weren't entirely alone.

Learning the guitar came slowly. The pads of your fingers burned and ached, and most nights, you let the guitar sit all alone on its side of the couch. 

You turned to old comfort films to fill your free time and started to expand your music horizons. Sometimes you would watch old rock and roll music videos with heavy guitar solos and look at the guitar with a longing expression.

You could do that.

If you applied yourself, you could do it.

Sometimes, in the dead of night, you swore you could hear the guitar playing from out in the living room. It was slow and sweet, and you could almost feel the thrumming vibrations in your sleep.

Sometimes you would wake up on the couch with the guitar in your lap or a blanket draped over you. Those days you felt especially drained. 

You couldn't remember how you got out there but could imagine it was the aftermath of a bad dream. 

One morning you woke up to the soft sound of the TV. Your eyes were sleepy, and your neck ached, but you were content. The remote was right next to your hand, and when you focused, you realized the music was the end of the Lord Of the Rings. 

You didn't overthink it. You loved those movies. 

You reached for the remote and turned on the second one - The Two Towers - before settling back on the couch. 

But your precarious sleeping patterns also messed with your appetite. 

You went through another pack of Yoo-hoos and bought chips and pop tarts. 

Playing the guitar became a subconscious effort like maybe you knew how to play after all. You were zoning out one night, strumming blindly while watching cartoons, and startled up when you realized you were playing the notes of Stairway to Heaven. 

It was slow and maybe a little choppy, but it was there. The trouble was, you didn't even know how to play that song. 

You put the guitar down for a while after that. 

It wasn't until one Friday night, after you settled in after a long work week, that you got a noise complaint from the neighbors. 

They were grumpy, spitting up and down that they could hear your 'devil music' during all hours of the day. They listened to the incessant noise all afternoon. They even complained about hearing the raucous music in the middle of the night. 

But you had a hard time understanding them; you weren't even home in the middle of the day. You didn't even have time to run home on your lunch break. 

You didn't have speakers or an amp, so what were they hearing?

There was a sudden chill in the air behind your back. Oh. You swallowed hard and tensed up, but tried to keep your composure and calm down your neighbors. 

You promised to lay off the music, and when they finally relented and let you get on with your night, you sent a scalding glance at the guitar. 

"You're putting on a show without me?"

When you finally dared to pick up the guitar, you moved it from the couch and made a beeline to your closet. Until you knew what was going on, you didn't have the nerve to look at it. 

Even the dark, carved words Corroded Coffin stared back at you with grief. But you closed the closet door anyway.

You had no idea what you were doing. 

What did you bring into your house?

You stayed in your bedroom the rest of the night. Whatever was in your house wasn't malicious. That much you were sure of.

You took to the internet for help. Cold air? Strange noises? It could mean anything from poor airflow to a mouse infestation. Strange dreams? It could mean phycological distress or uncertainty. 

And as much as you wanted to skirt around it, you eventually searched for what was really consuming your thoughts.

Ghosts. Haunting spectre. Demonic presences.

You didn't know where to start. 

'Ghost anomalies could be caused by connections of the deceased to places or objects. These spirits can have an effect on the environment around them. They can influence temperature, and electronic devices can go haywire. Magnetism shifts are expected. Sometimes, if left alone for long enough, it could even affect the living.'

You frowned, letting your head fall in your hands.

The strange behavior didn't begin until you brought that guitar home. 

It would explain your own peculiar behavior. Some days it felt like the strength from your bones like you had been hit by a bus. But maybe it wasn't a bus at all.

You cleared out your search bar and looked up Corroded Coffin, but the results were few and far between. You looked up haunted instruments, but that search list was even shorter. 

And then you pulled up a map, trying to backtrack the route you drove home.

It must have all stemmed from the estate sale.

You tried to remember the path, zooming in and out of the major cities and small towns. Did you take County Road 19? Didn't you make an exit at Highway 75?

It was an arduous process, and when you finally did get back into the weeds of Indiana, your eyes almost lit up.

Hawkins. Bingo.

You opened a new tab; a new search. 

Hawkins, Indiana estate sales. 

There was a list of fancy, middle-class homes with estate sales. But there was nothing about a trailer park. You kept trying.

Hawkins, Indiana trailer park.

You did find the trailer park, but there was very little information on who lived there or how to get in touch with them. There was just an old brochure attached in the city records that must have been from the 70s. Maybe you weren't looking in the right place.

Hawkins, Indiana obituaries.

Why would they have an estate sale unless there was no one to take care of the trailer? Someone must have recently passed away. 

The search pulled up a newspaper. The Hawkins Post. It was a weekly paper that mainly covered local sporting events and the mismanagement of tax policies. Still, at the end of the articles, there was an obituary section. It was a small town, after all. 

You started looking back, digging through weeks of online copies of the paper, searching for a needle in a haystack. 

You almost gasped when you finally found something that lingered from your memory. 

Wayne Munson.

Munson Estate Sale

He passed away about a month before the estate sale and had a short obituary underneath his name.

Wayne was a dedicated worker at the power plant for over forty years, had a soft spot for fishing and fried foods, and was as kind as he was gruff around the edges. 

Unfortunately, Wayne is not remembered by family members. However, he is and will be recognized by this community. Wayne was a devoted uncle, but after the town events of 1986, he remained alone. We will remember Wayne and all the work he has contributed to Hawkins.

You read over it twice. Maybe you were haunted by the memory of Wayne Munson. But it didn't make any sense. What happened in 1986? You went back.

Hawkins, Indiana 1986

Your eyes went wide at the results. There was a massive earthquake that destroyed the town. People were killed, and others went missing. There were pictures of the wreckage. 

Your belly ached. You thought about the guitar and looked at the closet door across the hall. Wayne had a family. Someone went missing.

"What happened to you?" You whispered into the air, clearing your search bar again.

Missing Persons Hawkins, Indiana 1986

You scrolled through missing person pictures, and there was a massive spike in the spring of 1986. The town really was devastated. 

And then you found it. Edward "Eddie" Munson.

It was a missing person's poster of Eddie Munson.

The black and white poster was old and grainy, and you zoomed in as closely as possible. His hair was long and dark, unruly, with curls that framed his face. You couldn't help but smirk. He definitely had hair to fit the period. His eyes were dark, or maybe it was just the picture, but his features were soft. You leaned back against the bedframe. He looked so young when he went missing. It must have been a school picture.

Eddie Munson.

You thought back to the estate sale and the woman carrying that big old box of tapes. Eddie's name was on the top of it. Eddie was into music.

When you looked back at the picture, your heart skipped a beat. He was wearing an all-too-familiar Metallica shirt in the photo. That same shirt was draped over your desk chair with the rest of your clean laundry. 

You zoomed back out and saw a link to details of the disappearance with a newly formed curiosity. But your computer screen froze as you moved to click on the link. Not even a moment later, the screen turned black, and you jumped. 

There was a shadow looming behind you. 

You practically jumped off the bed, but when you turned around, no one was there. No shadows were lingering between your bed and the wall.

You were all alone when you looked back at the dark computer screen. It couldn't have run out of battery charge - it was plugged into the outlet.

Panic spiked in your veins. 

You made a move to stand up but faltered. The air was too cold. You could see the puff of air as you exhaled, and your head ached.

It was a heavy, suffocating feeling. You couldn't think straight. 

The room was spinning around you, and you braced yourself on the headboard to steady yourself. But the effort was fruitless. You blindly collapsed between the bed and the dresser only a moment later. And as your eyes fluttered shut, you were out before your head could hit the floor. 

But your head never hit the ground. 

You were cradled between the hardwood and something invisible to the naked eye. You were brought to the ground gently, your skin jumping with goosebumps at the sudden chill. For the first time in a long time, everything was silent.

And Eddie didn't know what to do.

He was scared.

"Sorry, sorry," He apologized. And he meant it.

Eddie didn't want you to look for him, worried about what you might find. He was accused of so many things - devil worship, child endangerment, murder. He was the ostracised freak of Hawkins, and he couldn't even die right. He wasn't at peace.

And when Dustin gave his uncle the guitar, he found his way back. Not that anyone could see him, but he was there. 

He was tied to the guitar in the upside-down, and when Wayne locked it in the back room with all of Eddie's things, he thought he'd be stuck there forever.

You saved him. 

Your entire existence was different from the life he had known. It was white linens and peace. It was clean air and the chance to grow up. 

Eddie didn't feel dragged down by his upbringing. He wasn't a freak. 

You felt it too. You could feel him, even if you couldn't put it into words.

And Eddie tried to be a polite guest, but he was just so antsy. He was in a new place and didn't feel so alone with you. He wanted to be content for the first time in a long time. 

He got to see you, the real you, in the safety of your own home. He spent his mornings staying out of your way, watching from a distance as you hurried to get ready and make it to work.

He appreciated the slow, cat-like way you stretched out after a long day. He'd watch how you slowly pluck at the guitar strings when you needed to decompress. Sometimes he even wanted to help. He even tuned your guitar and ensured the strings were tight before you played. 

Eddie's taste in movies was rubbing off on you; he was sure of it. You'd put on old slasher movies without really thinking about it. And when woke up to the Fellowship of the Ring? He was nervous about being too involved, but you jumped right in. Eddie had been in a bubble for so long and didn't want to be locked away again.

At night, when you were just on the cusp of falling asleep, he felt the closest he ever had. It was like the plane between life and death was thinner somehow. You were on the cusp of wakefulness and sleep, and he could reach out to you. If he could just show you, talk to you, he -

Eddie froze. 

He was lonely. He just wanted someone to talk to. 

Most nights, he'd linger in the doorframe until sleep pulled you under, waiting until he could feel the electricity in the air. He was so close to something. And he reveled in that feeling. 

He could reach out to you in your dreams. 

At first, he didn't mean to do it. And he never meant to scare you, but he could vividly remember the upside-down. Your dreams and fears were his own.

Eddie needed to show you. He didn't want to jeopardize whatever attachment he formed, but he needed you to understand. He wasn't a monster. He wasn't a killer.

Eddie was enamored by you. 

He didn't know if it was love or the need for companionship, but he didn't want to lose you. He had waited years, almost lifetimes, for a change. He had been waiting for you all along. 

And if you knew what other people thought about him? If you believed them? He wasn't sure if he would recover.

The fear was paralyzing, so he panicked. He had to stop you.

He didn't even know just how much influence he could have. His body was still trapped in the upside-down, and he could feel the lingering power of the heavy atmosphere. So he overwhelmed the energy of the room.

You couldn't have fought against it if you had tried. 

"I'm not going to hurt you." He assured, reaching out to touch your face. "I promise."

But Eddie didn't know if he was trying to assure himself or you. He wasn't even sure you could hear him. He'd have to be careful. His touch was nervous, pressing into your temples and watching as your expression softened. He moved his hands away quickly.

You were pulled up from the floor and laid back in bed. Eddie assessed you with a frown. His connection was stronger than he thought. He leaned in close, sitting on the edge of the bed, and twirled his rings on his fingers anxiously. 

He was going to tell you the truth, his truth, before you could find out on your own. But when he took your hand in his own, you startled up.

You could see him. You were staring straight at him, grasping his hand tight as you looked him over. It wasn't another dream. 

He was really there, wearing an old, beat-up jacket and jeans as he sat on the edge of the bed. His eyes were just as dark as the picture. You could see and feel him and hear how his breath got caught in his throat. 

"Eddie?" You were startled. It wasn't from fear, no. You were startled by how comfortable you felt. You were safe and secure.

You could feel the rush of power, of energy from his hand to yours. And as those dark eyes shifted to yours, he knew. 

Eddie wasn't connected to the guitar anymore. He was connected to you.

Hellfire Haunts Masterlist

#hellfire haunts #writing challenge #ghost!eddie munson #ghost!eddie #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #ghost x reader #spooky stories

[ilovescaredysquirrel2]

The problem with Disney right now...

I know I usually state my opinion on movies I see recently and give reviews but sometimes I give my opinion on movies that are going to come out soon. So, I heard about the unnecessary sequels for Moana and Inside Out, which are great movies but they don't need sequels. In all honesty, after seeing what they did with Wish, I think Disney should take a break on making animated movies for a while! Not forever, just for a short time.

Okay, so I think we all can tell that they used A.I on Wish. It's not the animation and stuff, it's just the story! I even think the songs were written by real people, it's purely the story that feels A.I generated. Watch them use A.I on Moana 2, Inside Out 2, and Frozen 3... oh gosh that would break my heart to se them ruin the sequels with A.I. I don't consider myself a Disney fan, in fact, even as a kid I wasn't a Disney-movie kid, but I did have a Frozen phase back in the day. Every kid had a Frozen phase. Inside Out is okay but it was kind of emotional, but the first Moana was really good. The thing is, Frozen is based off the Snow Queen while Moana and Inside Out aren't based off any fairytales and are Disney's own original ideas for once. Plus, I think they're only making these sequels because their original ideas like StrangeWorld and Wish are failing so they're proffiting off live action remakes and making sequels of already existing characters because they're desperate. They're just so greedy and can't stand to see the competitors, who are smaller animation companies, beat them!

I'm mostly boycotting Disney (and have been ever since I saw Zootopia) but I'll watch Disney movies pirated on free websites like Actvid and Moviesjoy. The only thing I like from 2024 Disney is Kiff! LITERALLY KIFF! KIFF! Of all things, I never thought KIFF would be the only thing that's stopping me from abandoning Disney all together. I don't use Disney plus but the website I watch Kiff on doesn't have the recent episodes and I refuse to get Disney plus. Disney should focus on stuff like Kiff and Phineas & Ferb anyway. The only good show they got on Disney channel now is Bluey and Bluey is NOT EVEN DISNEY! Bluey is an Australian show and should be seen as that, instead of having the greediest corporation in the world act like they own an Aussie show that they didn't have anything to do with. Bluey should be on PBS kids or something, not greedy Disney! Who agrees? I'm American, but If I was in Australia I'd be so mad at Disney. Disney literally censored episodes, removed episodes, and stopped the writers from throwing in a Bible reference... when they weren't even making the show! If I was in charge, Disney Channel/Disney Junior would have shows like Jungle Junction, Phineas & Ferb, Bear in the Big Blue House, Good Luck Charlie, Suite life of Zack & Cody on Deck,... ect. Basically I'd bring back everything except JESSIE because it was racist (R.I.P to Cameron Boyce tho, he wasn't a bad guy he was just on a bad show).

Anyway, Disney is on my last nerve rn, and if it wasn't for Kiff I'd hate it all together. I still do hate Disney but the only thing that keeps me from wanting it to go away is Kiff. If you haven't heard of Kiff, it's a recent show by Disney, about an orange squirrel who's really energetic (and no, she's NOTHING like Scaredy Squirrel). As far as movies go, I know for sure that I will never see another Disney movie in theaters and I encourage you too, as well. They'll end up on Actvid or Moviesjoy before they even end up on Disney plus anyway, because Disey is popular and people care enough to record it off some hidden camera in theaters. I'm not saying you have to follow in my footsteps and boycott Disney, I'm just telling you on how I do it. Like, the day they come out in theaters is the same day they end up on free websites. Plus, you don't have to waste your money if the movie is going to be bad, like how Wish ended up being bad.

So yeah, please share your thoughts! If you're a Disney fan, I'm sorry. You have to know that they've been really shady recently (they always have been shady but particularly now).

#my thoughts #my thoughts on disney #disney hater #kiff #kiff chatterley #kiff is the only good thing from Disney rn

[mythical-donut]

Rant post about Mei-nyan

Occasionally I like to have a good rant. I was recently reminded of something in another post. And I just realized the whole Meinyan plot was part of why I lost interest in Akatsuki no Yona for a certain period of time. Now when it seems her character development arc is mostly over, I can retroactively wonder what the point of her was.

Let’s start the journey of Meinyan.

When Mei was first introduced as part of the Kai entourage I was initially very intrigued. I think her introduction and motives provided some interesting spice to the plot. She made some interesting points like why does Yona, who isn’t even of Hiryuu’s bloodline, get everything. Yona gets the dragons, the Hiryuu worship, the thunderbeast, and good health. While the ones of the 1st Dragon King’s bloodline gets a cursed illness and an early death. She provided a nice contrast to Soowon’s perspective and how he is coming to terms with the crimson illness curse and the Hiryuu stuff compared to her. She forced Soowon, who wouldn’t normally speak of it, to address some of his thoughts on it. She even gave perspective to Yona: “Am I privileged?”

That was all interesting because normally Soowon or Yona would not be talking about the reality of that kind of stuff. Though I did have to wonder why add another significant character of Hiryuu’s bloodline when we already had one.

So that was all good and all, but then it immediately went downhill when her reckless plan to ally with Soowon collapsed like a house of cards. Girl, did you seriously have no backup plan for this? You went in the middle of enemy territory and placed all your eggs in a basket on a guy you never even met before hoping he would ally with her in mutual purpose right off the bat.

And then when he said no, she is to instantly be put to death, because she knows the king’s illness. And she knew all that would happen if her gamble failed. Through Yona’s goodwill, she’s lucky enough to just get imprisoned with stay of execution instead of sliced up on the spot. She breaks out due to her powers of seduction and skills as a general (oh so she’s a concubine and a general too? Okay).

So what does she do instead of take the serendipitous opportunity to high-tail it out of the capital? She goes to wander around the enemy castle grounds to find her pet squirrel instead. I didn’t understand her priorities. Was this supposed to show us she has a soft heart because she would risk everything for a pet squirrel?

So naturally in her wandering among the bushes for her squirrel, she quickly gets spotted and taken down again. Through sheer luck gets found my Yun, treated, and sheltered all due to his good will. What another lucky break! But she still tries to get right back out there again to find her squirrel recklessly. No lessons learnt there!

In summary, Mei gets lucky break after lucky break through the goodwill of others rewarded by no discernible action of her own.

At this point I’m wondering what the point of her in the plot is anymore. Is she supposed to soften to the good people of Kouka and become a liaison for juicy intel on Kai? Well it turns out sort of, but she becomes more of a liability instead.

Here’s where things get even weirder for me. We switch over to South Kai and are offered a nice long awaited introduction of Chagol and some South Kai generals. Apparently Mei is some highly important concubine/ex-general to a lot of people. Due to…feelings I guess? Even as an ex-general we are never shown she’s of any notable political or military worth. It seems it’s just Chagol’s desire to take back what is his. Val has a thing for her too (and apparently even another general does too)

Meanwhile Mei is enjoying the hospitality of the capital in a night out with Yun and Lili and co. Why? I don’t know. Yun and them are taken with her too…for some reason I guess. Anyway she starts drunkenly rambling about Val, and here’s where I’m like, ‘Oh. So this is what it is’: We have a sub-romance plot in the making boys and girls. Val, a Kai general is gonna go turncoat for his true love to rescue her from the clutches of the dastardly Chagol. That’s what the point of her character in the plot mainly becomes.

Now disclaimer. I know this manga is technically a romance fantasy and some readers can rightfully find this little side romance cute and endearing. Just saying, for me it didn’t catch. Particularly due to how far away this is from the core plot and all the inconsistencies of her actions and other characters’ reactions to her. We are given chapters and chapters of this Mei subplot and I’m still wondering why I should care.

Anyway, Chagol sends a whole elite squad plus himself into the heart of the enemy capital to take back Mei. Burning Hiryuu castle at this point just seems like a side thing to do while he’s there, cause why the heck not?

So the final nail in the coffin of the Meinyan stuff for me was the recent events with rescuing her from the enemy camp. I just didn’t understand any of it. Yun wants to infiltrate the South Kai enemy camp just to rescue some woman he met like a week or two ago. Yun. The usually most cautious of the bunch would probably rush in there himself and do it. Oh Yona and them are going to take up the cause instead? Okay good. Everything is swell. Yona, of course liking her too, can’t let her suffer in the clutches of the evil Chagol. And of course everyone else in the HHB is down with it too. So Yona and her crew are going to risk everything just to rescue some damsel in distress they barely knew in the middle of war with many many lives at stake.

Soowon doesn’t get it (I don’t either) but decides to help. Long story short they end up in a sort of win-lose situation through no particular planning themselves. They just barged in and let the pieces fall where they may. Luckily Yona gains another unlikely Kai General ally by chance because…you guessed it. He’s also obsessed with Mei. Anyway they end up dealing a mortal wound to Chagol and another general, but get some Five Stars injured and lose 3 of the dragons.

So Mei is now their dedicated ally. How could she not be at this point? After everyone going far far -into the galaxy- out of the way to help this random chick. And here we are.

Here I am near the end of the rant. I don’t know what Mei is supposed to do for us now except for be another helpful from-Kai ally, which we already have enough of at this point. Suffer with Soowon from the crimson illness giving Yona yet another reason to do something about it? I don’t know.

I still wonder what the point of her existence was. I mean I get that certain events needed to happen. Like the burning of Hiryuu castle, stealing of the Chalice, having the dragons get taken, killing Chagol, gaining some Kai general allies. All very intriguing important plot events leading to something big. And Mei largely served as an agent to that. I just loathed the execution of it. We are shown all the characters who obsess over and lose all reason for her. But we aren’t shown why. To me she’s just a random chick with some attitude who blundered around and had all the characters (and the plot) fall over for her.

Perhaps she’s bound for some crucial role in the plot that only her and her alone can achieve and things will get good for her character there, but it doesn’t change my misgivings leading up to it.

Anyway end of rant. Curious what others think of her!

#akatsuki no yona #yona of the dawn #Mei-nyan #mei nyan #soo won #suwon #rant #yona #south Kai #Chagol #yun

[searchingforserendipity25]

Whatever ship you had at age 13 + “It wasn’t my language, but I understood enough.”

"And do not gamble," Stannis ordered.

"I do not," Davos said. And then, conscientiously, "Not in company, since I joined your service, my lord; though at home we are rather freer with games of sticks and small coins. I would rather my sons knew the way of dicing from me, so they should not learn it at the edge of a charlatan's dirk."

Stannis frowned, passing judgement. Davos would have to tell this to Marya: she found it very amusing how Stannis liked to dispense high notions of conduct, for all she had still not quite forgiven him for Davos' lovely strong fingers.

"I suppose that is better, if they are like to be near such vices," he conceded, a little grudgingly. "Well I wish I could say they shall be pages and squires, perhaps, and have no need for a clear head; but pages are as terrible as any mason's son for gaming, and often more reckless, for having more money to spend. See that they are sensible lads, Davos, and they shall do you credit, if only be comparison."

Faint praise that was, but Davos knew what he meant by it. Three years with three long seasons in the Red Keep, managing his lord's household; he was starting to understand.

It had been foolishness to think poverty was enough to guess at the indifference of the highborn.

None of them cared for justice - not as Stannis did. They cared less, even, for their smallfolk; and paid no mind to the small ruffians in the port, the small hungry ship-boys very like the one Davos had been.

"Trust no one to be capable or interested in being capable to do their work, be sure they shall be greedy, and keep away from any excess."

His tone made it clear he did not grasp why this simple matter should prove so impossible a standard to his peers, and thought very little of them for it.

Davos hid a smile in the corner of his beard. His new lord was quick to sense any slight, and imagine many others; he did not trust mirth, when mirth came to stand by his side to keep him company during long balls.

Or at least to leave the festivities with him, when the feasting went on too long. The endless courses of sweetcakes and merenges decorated with the sweetest fruits from the Seven Kingdoms and Essos had soured Davos' own appetite.

He had eaten at similar tables, in the cabins of pirates, the worst thieves of the sea. This was no different. He had no tooth sweet enough for it now; his head ached behind his eyes when he ate too much indulgence, his body little used to it.

They left the stifling heat of the great hall to walk the battlements when the last round cheese wheels and small, rich wines and liquors were still being served.

Which was just as well: Davos had an urge, very unworthy, of squirreling away a slice or three, or a small jar of jam. He had to remind himself his sons ate well, now; that Marya grew rounder and redder and full of laughter, and not only ruled well their pantry, but shared their plenty with neighbors and dependents.

Quietly, in the privacy of his heart, Davos was quite determined that he should expect trust, and no derision, from one person at least.

A lofty goal, but as he was come to an unexpected windrush of good fortune, he thought he might have some luck in this endeavour, too.

Davos and his lord spoke long of honor and justice, these being the things dearest to Stannis' heart; moreover, Davos found it a matter of much interest.

His rise to knighthood, never expected, could not have been a stranger course for a smuggler. In those first years at Dragonstone, he went through his new duties and new life feeling keenly as a cabin-boy boy on his first voyage again - finding his feet when the swells of court life rose, keeping his head down and doing his best with the tasks given to him.

Always with a wary ear out, always certain of his disposability, his smallness to the engines of politics.

It rankled, more than he thought it would; for in his way he had been a man of some importance, ruler of his own crew, and well-respected, ship won with effort and cunning, while knights donned armour costing a spring's worth of ten families' work in the fields.

At least he had a new, good and stalwart captain to lead him through troubled waters. Davos grew ever more grateful for it, the more he came to know of the foibles of the kingdom's nobles.

"Honorable conduct is very simple, smuggler," Stannis told him. He turned his half-empty glass of lemon water between his palms - his wrists, narrow still, caught the silver light, too stark under his skin to be comfortable to look at long.

Davos did like to look at him, though. A fine sort of discomfort; he knew how to keep his feet and his head. So perhaps he was a gambling man still, in his way; though as honest a one as he could make himself become.

"And as you already do keep it, learning the ways of court shall be easier," Stannis added, in that stilted, stiff way, that was not a compliment in him but might have been in another man.

"I shall do my best, lord," Davos agreed. "If only by comparison."

Davos thought of him in the light of that moon, often, in years to follow, though he did not always know this was what he was thinking of in particular. The long cheeks framed by long lines, the dark curls starting to thin already - the young man with his unhappy mouth twitching, for a moment.

-

Thank you so much @displayheartcode! Now this was fun a trip down memory lane <3

#davos seaworth #stannis baratheon #davos x stannis #imagine tumblr's most sheltered 13 year old. now give her a thing for balding morally rigid misanthropes and middle-aged ex-sailor henchmen #this was more or less the thing #asoiaf #asoiaf fic #davos seaworth x stannis baratheon #got #got fic

[deepwaterwritingprompts]

uh so i know it's not request time so feel free to ignore this, but I broke my arm a couple weeks ago and just got the cast off yesterday (i still have to have a brace, but, you know, still) and I was wondering if we could get some a prompt about bones (broken or otherwise)

it was NOT request time BUT i do hope you feel better AND its halloween the first tomorrow SO i collected all the ones ive already written! bones.

“If you dream about the meadow, dig for my bones,” he whispered, “and bring one back, if you can.”

A ship made of whalebones had crashed on the rocks and washed ashore. I just happened to be looking out my window when it happened.

I saw a deer climb out of the frozen river, antlers cracking the ice from below, moving as if its bones were barely attached to each other. 

You had to watch the ground for wishbones. Breaking one even by accident would unleash hell, for better or (usually) worse.

I had one of my bones stolen, as a child. Only for an hour or two, but the experience changed me forever.

My town is normal I think, except for the river. The entire riverbed is covered in bones, which we collect for playthings, crafts, and ceremonies.

The desert remembers. It coughs things up, like earth oceans are said to wash things ashore. Assorted bones. Wrecked sand ships. And of course, me.

When the sea thaws in spring the first rib bones wash ashore. My friends and I always break one, for luck.

 Bones grow up from the ground, piercing our town, the cold white ribcage of a curious, otherworldly god. Every day I grab my saw, and get to work.

Strange people, and I’m sure they are people, emerge from the corn on Sundays. They swear they have every sort of thing for sale in there, long lost paintings, and bottled sunshine, and nice sturdy bones.

We learn something new every day, in the desert. Bones are good for bartering, doesn’t matter whose they are. Dead trees are usually hands, just pretending. 

Bones talk. Figuring out how changed science forever. It changed everything, forever. 

“I need my bones read.”  “But you’re still alive,” says the young man, looking me up and down. “I was hoping you could work around that.”

A pure white squirrel brings small bones to my cell window. I collect them, putting them in order, one by one.

Once a year, my father and I summit the mountain at dawn to feed the whales. In the fading starlight, their song echoes like a premonition through my bones.

A customer comes in asking for bones. I tattoo them on her skin where they would go in reality, one every few months, in an order she refuses to explain.

When I need extra bodies, I turn the hens into girls. They stand as soon as their bones have cracked into place, clumsy, screeching, and ravenous.

The city was protected, built on the bones of an ancient hero prophesied to rise again.

My bones scraped and creaked as they rearranged themselves hastily.

The way she moved in the water was beautifully inhuman. I realized it was because she had no bones. 

The Skeleton Garden was just what it sounded like. Hoards of wildflowers had sprung up through the bones of those who had tried and failed to flee.

Our neighbor was a beautiful girl who lived alone and wouldn’t take a compliment. “My bones are rotten,” she would say, sadly.

A desperate man once asked me, ‘where do the bones go?’ I didn’t know. I was only the collector.

As a child wandering the woods, I found a set of bones. They bid me take one home, and fashion it into a knife. 

She only wanted a quiet life. But there was lightening, quite literally, in her bones.

#every possible bone about it #hope ur healed! #love from L