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majorblinks · 2 years

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we could call it even (twice nayeon)

(smut, idol Nayeon, car sex [oral], semi-public sex, choking, fluff, angst [kind of], 12k words)

For the record, it’s been seven years since you last saw Im Nayeon in the flesh.

You don’t really like to think about it: about being sixteen and getting the news that your best friend in the whole world - the person who’d been by your side as long as you could remember, the person who’d been there for every single significant event in your life, who you’d been with through tears and failed tests and shitty high school relationships and nights spent at the beach in your hometown, running right into the waves the moment school let out - was heading off to chase her dream, to become wildly, unimaginably famous, which meant that you probably wouldn’t see her again for a very, very long time.

“It might not even go anywhere,” Nayeon told you, wrapped up in a towel, the two of you huddled together on the beach, stars glimmering overhead. “I might - I mean, it’s totally possible that I’m going to fail miserably.”

“You won’t,” you said, wistful, because you were acutely aware that Im Nayeon - gorgeous and charismatic and talented beyond belief, even then - was meant for so much more than anything she could get in your town. “There’s no chance you’re going to fail.”

Nayeon glanced over at you, bottom lip caught between her teeth, eyes glassy, and you already both knew that things would never be the same.

So - that’s where it ends, really, or at least where it should. She left, and got famous, and you stayed, and went to college. She didn’t keep in touch, because she couldn’t, and you didn’t expect her to. You stayed and you loved her and you understood.

It’s not like you haven’t been keeping up with her, though.

See, she’s everywhere: magazines, social media, on the radio, playing over the speakers in every store - there’s that voice, that perfect face, that body in form-fitting gowns and slinky designer dresses, caught by paparazzi in jeans and crop tops - now she’s all grown up, and a superstar, and so breathtakingly beautiful you do a double take every time you see her. Snapshots of her on red carpets, music videos; Nayeon’s present all the time, even when she’s not with you. You’ll be okay with it, you think. Not everything’s meant to last forever. Sometimes, it’s just a moment, but it’s enough.

Your childhood best friend, taking the world by storm; you, behind the scenes, always cheering her on. Like you said, that’s where it all should end. Call it there - give it a clean break. It’s what you both deserve.

It’s all over, except you’re in grad school, and it’s winter break, and by some miracle, you’re both in your hometown at the same time.

You don’t know it right away. You’re too caught up in the stunning nostalgia of your childhood bedroom, which is so deeply saturated with Nayeon’s presence that it’s almost like she’s still there - almost like she never left. It’s the pictures, it’s the candle on your nightstand that she bought for you, graphic t-shirts in your dresser that she used to steal; being here is like cracking open a time capsule, playing a supercut of the two of you, a short film cutting off right before the end. It’s more than a little bit suffocating, this kind of history spread out right in front of you, but you’ll deal. You always have.

You’ve been here for a day, and you’re still settling in. It’s a sleepy afternoon, chilly in mid-winter, but the sun’s out, and the sky’s clear and cloudless. You step outside with your keys in your hand, about to go for a drive - there are ways to seek out nostalgia without drowning in it; you’re thinking old streets, movie theaters, coffee shops-

You stop short, confused.

You don’t actually make the connections, at first. Look, you were never close with Nayeon’s family: for all you know, they could’ve moved away years ago; you wouldn’t be surprised. And there’s no reason for her to be here - so it’s a fleeting thought, flickering out like a light.

Plus, the girl you see right now, loitering by the car parked in the driveway of the house across the street, has long, silky blonde hair, catching in the sun like a halo. So - there’s no chance, you’re thinking, no way: it’s some new neighbor, or, like, a criminal - well, she’s tiny, she’s unassuming, so probably not that, but still-

The girl keeps leaning in, mumbling to herself, checking the back left tire.

“Oh, shit,” she says, suddenly, and then lands a very ill-placed kick to the tire with her shoe.

It’s a bad choice. It must hurt, because she gasps, tips to balance herself on the car - you notice her nails, which are these ridiculous acrylics, talon-sharp and with swirly white patterns - and you can’t see her expression, but her head ducks, swivels fast, glancing from her shoe to the tire, and then-

“Shit,” she says, again, and she bursts out laughing - and that's when you realize it.

Even from all the way across the street where you can’t see her face, even though this girl is blonde and there’s zero fucking chance she should be here right now, kicking her parents’ car with one of her beat-up leather boots - it’s all in that laugh, ringing brilliantly in the air like the music she makes. It's been seven years, and it’s still her.

“Nayeon,” you call. It’s not a question. You've never been more sure of yourself.

She turns, and - God - it’s like everything kicks into sudden slow motion, blurs, sharpens; you see her like you're seeing her for the first time, and in an instant, it's all in perfect clarity.

There’s that face: the one across billboards, album covers, the one in every photograph you have from high school, pressed close to yours - and abruptly it’s like you can’t even breathe, looking at her. Oh, none of the pictures do her justice, but you already knew that: she’s unbelievable, and right in front of you, and so, so real.

It’s something straight out of a movie, out of some fantasy, a far-off dream. Nayeon stands, straightens, stares, stares-

Then, casual to the point of comedy, she says, “Hey.”

And it’s all so easy: like it hasn’t been years since you two have spoken, like you might be sixteen again and preparing to corral her to your side so you two can go to the beach - so natural, like nothing has changed at all. Nayeon props a hand on her hip, gestures to the car, asks, “Does this tire look flat to you?”

You'll play along. Hey, you always did. “Um,” you say, from the sidewalk, grinning like an idiot. “I’m not an expert or anything, but - yeah, it does look kind of fucked up, huh?”

“Kind of,” agrees Nayeon.

“Yeah.”

Nayeon doesn’t even look at the tire; doesn’t take her eyes off of you for even a second. She’s so insanely, impossibly beautiful - and then her full lips crack to a smile, flashing her teeth at you, radiant enough to rival the sun.

“Hey,” she says, again, except now her voice is thick with emotion.

“Hey,” you echo, and wait.

It takes one beat, then two, and then Nayeon’s running at you, her laugh carrying on the wind. Her leather boots clap on the asphalt, her blonde hair streaming behind her, giving up every act, every attempt at playing it cool. It's just like her, around you again: you'll click right back into place like it's the only thing you were ever meant to do, and-

“Oh my god,” Nayeon exhales, and then she’s launching herself right into your arms.

For those few moments - those moments when you catch her around the waist, and her hands loop around your neck, and you hug her body close to you, half-drunk on the smell of her hair - she’s not Im Nayeon, global phenomenon; she’s your Nayeon, your best friend, your girl, yours. Yours, and she’s laughing that wonderful, infectious laugh, giddy like she knows it.

It’s been seven years - and then Nayeon pulls back, palms slipping to cup your cheeks, and it’s like it’s been no time at all.

“Oh my god,” she whispers again, reverent. “You…”

Her thumbs find the sides of your face, the dimples bracketing your mouth that she used to obsess over, and her words slip away into nothing. “Me?” you ask, teasing her. “You. That hair, Nayeon-”

“It fits me, right?” Nayeon’s tongue pokes out between her teeth, eyes sparkling. There’s something about her name on your lips: it makes her shiver, and you press your fingers into her hips, needing her closer - her chin’s tilted up at you, expression open, like she needs the exact same thing. “It’s for my new comeback. No one��s seen it yet.”

“Saving it for me?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

You laugh out loud - the vulgarity. You can’t imagine she’s been able to be so profane in her day-to-day life, not in her line of work: she’s had to be pristine, this whole time, holding back with a camera-ready smile and a script. It’s something else, seeing her instead of her image. There’s something you’ll test later - what rules she’s ready to break, after all this time. You’ll get back to it.

Nayeon’s beaming, sunlight threading through her hair. She’s still got your face in her hands, and you’ve got your hands on her waist, and there are no boundaries like you’ve never spent any time apart. “You look so…”

She trails off, flushing prettily.

“I look so what?” you prompt, entertained.

“No,” says Nayeon, accusatorily. She pats your cheek with one hand, and there’s that charming glint of her front teeth in her grin - that’s a smile people’d pay just to see, and they have. “I’m not saying it.”

“You don’t have to,” you say, and pat her hip in retaliation. It gets another laugh from her, bright and pleased. “I know what you meant.” You grin, pull her closer, add, “Right back at you.”

You could kiss her and you don’t. Instead, you draw her into your arms, hug her body tight to yours, feel all the new, firm muscle where youthful softness used to be; everything seems so different, on the surface, and you’re both older and busier and there’s her blonde hair, her nails, how every part of her seems planned and curated, a trademark of the celebrity life - she’s in a cream-colored sweater and jeans and no makeup, and still looks permanently silver-screen perfect. It’s been years, and she’s grown into herself elegantly, beautifully. It’s been years, and she’s in your arms again, and she’s become everything she wanted to be and more.

Nayeon buries her face in your neck, and takes a few deep, shuddering breaths, trying to keep it together - and you realize that maybe some things never change.

See - against all fucking odds, really - you and Nayeon are never anything more than just friends.

There’s all this pretense, at first. You’ve spent basically all your lives glued to each other’s sides, right on the edge of codependence, but it’s high school, and it’s the status quo, so you both try dating other people. It’s not that it’s totally disastrous, or anything - it’s just that none of the relationships last, and none of them are as important as the two of you together.

“They’re so boring,” Nayeon complained to you one day, both of you in your living room, watching some movie, her feet kicked up in your lap. “Well - okay, maybe that’s not totally accurate. It’s just - every date I go on, I just think of how much more fun it would be if you were there.”

“Yeah,” you said, pinching her knee, earning a squeal from her. “You, me, and your boy toy of the week. It’d be a laugh riot.”

“Fuck off,” said Nayeon, nose wrinkling, staving off a smile. “No, I mean - if you were there instead of him.”

So - sure, it’s really obvious, and everyone who knows you two sees it too. It’s you, and it’s her, and no one else is ever really going to be able to compete.

The reason why you never say it out loud is because of the only thing bigger than how you feel about her: Nayeon’s ambitions, her goals, her passion and drive. She doesn’t belong in this town, with you. She’s got stars in those gorgeous eyes, dreams of glitz and glamour and fame - and if there’s one thing you know about Im Nayeon, it’s that she knows exactly what she wants and just how to get it. You sort of always know that one day she’s going to end up leaving you behind. You know that the thought of tying her down, shackling her to the streets of this town, to you - it makes you nauseous. Holding a girl like that back would be a mortal sin: the universe would never forgive you for it.

(You know it all the way up until the night before she leaves for good, when she kisses you at your front door, her suitcases already packed - it’s not the first time you’ve kissed her, and it certainly doesn’t feel like the last, but you know it’s all you’ve got for now.

Don’t forget about me, alright? Nayeon said, then, tears in her eyes, tears in yours.

Never, you said. I could never.

You didn’t tell her you loved her, because you wanted to have something to give her when she came back, no matter how long it took.)

You and Nayeon never actually date in high school, but somehow - as delightfully easy as breathing, as inevitable as the stars slipping right into alignment - you two end up falling in love anyway.

It’s seven years later, and your heart is hers, just the same way as it always has been.

“No one knows I’m here,” Nayeon tells you now, from the passenger seat of your car; turns out her tire actually is flat, so now you’re chauffeuring her around, basically - not like you’re complaining. “I’ve done a pretty decent job at keeping my childhood private - the general public cares a lot more about my present than my past.”

Plus, no one knows she’s blonde yet, you point out, not even her fans. “Because you were saving that for me,” you insist. “You wanted to get my opinion first.”

“Shut up,” says Nayeon, then softens, goes serious. “I wasn’t… I wasn’t sure if you’d even be here, you know.”

The truth is you haven’t been, for the most part. Your university’s around an hour and a half away, and you don’t visit as much as you should. But now you’re here, and she’s here, and you’ve been driving in circles for the past hour - going past your old school, the church, all the rich neighborhoods. It’d be too risky to actually go anywhere, so this is what you’ve got, and neither of you seem to mind.

“Hey,” you tell her, flick your blinker, hook a left. “I’m always going to be here.”

You’re not talking about the town. When you glance over at Nayeon, she’s got this tilt to her mouth, a telltale sign: she understands exactly what you mean.

You’re falling back into old rhythms, patterns. You go through a drive-through, and Nayeon studiously stares out the window the whole time, trying to cover her face with her hair - it’s an admirable attempt at staying incognito, considering anyone who takes a single look at those eyes and that dazzling smile is going to know exactly who she is.

“Smooth,” you say when it’s over, pulling into the parking lot. You’re splitting a giant coffee and it’s like you’re back in high school. “Were you just planning on holing up in your house the whole time you’re back? You can’t exactly go anywhere without being recognized.”

You both click your seatbelts off, and now Nayeon’s got her legs tucked to her chest, her cheek resting on the tops of her knees. “Honestly?” She waves her hand at you, glittering acrylics flashing - you tip the coffee towards her, let her sip from the straw. “I didn’t really plan any of this. I had time off for once, so I took it. It’s the holidays, so it was just…” She shrugs. “The most reasonable plan of action, I guess.”

“You could’ve gone anywhere,” you say; you’re fishing for something, and she knows it. “Like, way more fun places than this shitty town. Los Angeles. The Bahamas. Paris.”

“Sure.”

“So?” You set the coffee in one of the cup holders. “Why didn’t you?”

You and Nayeon were best friends for so long that you basically grew to share a brain, thoughts, opinions - there were those times you’d look at her and know exactly what she was thinking, those times where just a lift of her eyebrows or a curl to her lips could communicate whole sentences, sentiments - things with her have always been so natural, so instinctual. It should be awkward, after seven years, after her rise to fame and your lack thereof. There should be oceans between you, whole worlds. There should be stumbling, time to find footing, missteps and whatever thread always tied you two together at least frayed, if not snapped entirely.

There should be, but there isn’t. Nayeon’s always been able to read your mind just like you can read hers, and that’s not about to stop now.

“You don’t need me to answer that,” she says, gaze stuck on your eyes, your teeth, your throat. The two of you are just as inevitable as you always were, and she’ll prove it. “I think you already know.”

Like you said, you’ve kissed Nayeon before: too many times to count.

You don’t really have a logical explanation, for all of that. It’s just that when you were younger you two spent every waking moment together, and you two were deliberately, unusually touchy: you can’t even begin to fathom the amount of times your classmates ran into you and Nayeon in the halls, or at parties, and pointedly backed off like they thought they were interrupting something.

(Well, they kind of were - it’d be her with a grip on your forearm, her with her legs in your lap, you with an arm slung around her shoulders, her waist, caught up in some conversation that was only comprehensible to you two. It’d have killed you to be apart, back then, even though you always knew it was coming. You knew you’d be ripped apart, eventually. You took all the time you could get.)

The kissing - you can’t even blame that on alcohol, can’t fall back on cop-outs or excuses. It wasn’t like you two ever truly planned for it to go down like it did. Just - sometimes, you’d be looking at her, so filled with unbridled, uncontained affection, something you couldn’t even begin to put into words - you’d see her eyes, and the soft way she’d look at you, and it was like everything you’d wanted had already happened.

So that’s where it starts, really: you’d kiss her just to make a point, tilt her face towards yours, slot your lips together. If it were anyone else, they’d have freaked, called you insane; Nayeon just smiled afterwards, eyes shutting, content and understanding, the kind of knowing that comes with whatever cosmic connection that was obviously keeping you two tangled up together beyond repair - intertwined at the hands, at the heart.

You didn’t talk about it, because she was always leaving, even while she was right there with you. You could feel it, more than anything. You’ve always sort of been running out of time.

The point is - well, you’ve kissed her plenty of times, just to tell her how you felt without saying it out loud. Careful, and gentle, and with all the clear intention in the world.

(The point is, it’s all these years later, and you know exactly how it feels to watch Nayeon leave. The point is that you have nothing left to lose, so-)

You’ve driven around so long that it’s dark outside. You’ve talked for hours, recapping the past seven years as best you can, hanging on each other’s every word: going through friends and careers and drama and conflict in excruciating, meticulous detail, and you’re still not even close to being done. It’s pouring outside, raindrops coating the windshield, and Nayeon says, abruptly, “I’m leaving in a week.”

“Okay,” you say, and pull your car into the driveway.

It’s not a question, and it’s the opposite of tension. You park the car and step out, and she’s right there at the passenger side, rain soaking her blonde hair, dripping down her neck, staring at you. It’s pitch-black outside, but there are those eyes: luminescent, longing personified. She’s the most famous woman in the country - you’ve seen those eyes everywhere. It’s nothing compared to having her in front of you now.

“A week,” Nayeon says, again, shutting the car door. “That’s all we’ve got.”

It’s not a question, so you don’t answer it.

It all gets away from you, in a split second - time, and your mind, and all your inhibitions - you’re rounding the car, and then you’ve got your hands in her drenched hair. Your mouth’s inches from hers, and her lips are already parted - you think of deja vu, you think this has already happened, or it was already meant to - you think of crazy, impossible things, and then you kiss her.

Nayeon melts underneath you, like succumbing to a wound - no, it’s too soft to be that, too safe - like slipping between sheets, like finding rest and relief after months on your feet - it’s a thunderstorm after a drought, an oasis, a second chance - and she’s so small when you press her against the car, as her mouth opens, spine curving, hands finding the nape of your neck.

The energy between you is electric, a shock to a system: it’ll be an overload, if you don’t fuck her right now - it’s been too long, it’ll blow all the breakers. You need her and it’ll kill you if you don’t have her. “Nayeon,” you murmur, fingers tangling in her hair, hips trapping her to the car door-

Nayeon makes this otherworldly noise into your mouth, high and keening and needy, and for a beat you actually think you’re going to die.

“Your house,” gasps Nayeon, panting when she pulls back, the pressure from what feels like eons wanting you and being denied finally dropping to the pavement, washing away with the rain. “Is it - please tell me no one’s home.”

It’s the two of you, and every single star aligns, for once in seven years: call it a comet, an eclipse, something to capture and study and scrutinize. “No one’s home.”

There’s that moonlight, gleaming overhead, breaking through the clouds. It bathes Nayeon like it’s blessing her, like it sees the extraordinary life she’s led so far and deems her deserving of it - like it looks at you, and by some million-in-one chance, by some surreal string of fate, it deems you deserving of her.

(Maybe you are, then. Maybe you always were.)

“Okay,” says Nayeon, and her hand takes yours - for a moment, you swear she’d run away with you, leave it all behind. “Then let’s go.”

Somehow, in the dark, you still know her.

You stumble up to your bedroom and you never even make it to the light switch - the moon’s coming in through slats in your blinds, the rain’s a drum line, a soundtrack - and Nayeon’s peeling off your shirt, fumbling with her ridiculous nails at the button of your jeans.

“Don’t strain yourself,” you say, grinning, your hands finding the hem of her top. “Your company will crucify you if you fuck up that manicure.”

“Fuck you,” says Nayeon, and suddenly she’s laughing, a harmony to the growing storm outside. She pops the button, drags the zipper, slow like she knows she’s unraveling you in the process. “Fuck you. Fuck me.”

The rain’s got her soaked to the skin - you get her sweater off, and then her jeans, and she’s in this scarlet-red bra, matching panties - it’s an image straight out of all your wet dreams, and you can’t help but stare, mouth agape, fingers lingering at her hips. Nayeon’s too flawless to be real; she’s smirking at you like she knows it. She’s used to be ogled, stared at, lusted after: she’s used to people wanting to rip her apart, and she’ll act like it.

“Jesus christ,” you say, unable to tear your eyes off her body - there’s her collarbone, her tits, her smooth, toned midriff - her wet hair, her creamy thighs - it’s all there, just for you. No one else gets to see her like this, no eager fan or follower - just you.

“Right?” says Nayeon, breathless and amused, high on how you’re looking at her. “Red really is my color.”

Somehow the arrogance only heightens the mood, the overwhelming arousal steeping the room. Something about making a god learn manners, respect; something about taking a deity and putting her in her place. “That ego,” you consider, skating your nails up her back, stopping at the clasp of her bra.

“What about it?”

“No, nothing.” You unhook it, grin at the shaky breath it gets from her. “I just think you might need to get it fucked out of you.”

Nayeon’s used to being mythologized, idolized, painted so perfect that everyone arounds her considers her something more than human, more than magic: she’s got hundreds of thousands of people ready to kneel at her feet, give her the world on a silver platter. She’s been spoiled, you think, tracing her body with your fingertips. She’s been treated like carved marble, behind glass and roped off, invulnerable, untouchable.

(But here you are, anyway: the one person on the planet who truly knew her before all that - before fame took hold of a girl and made her a legend. Before fame took the love of your life and let everyone else fall in love with her, too. Well, you’re not about to blame them; you never could.)

Nayeon’s staring at you, a challenge in her eyes, a sharp, secret violence in her smile.

“I don’t know about all that,” she says, “but you can try.”

It’s a dare, it’s a taunt - after all this time, and you’re still the only one who can match her beat for beat, touch for touch: there’s her bra, slipping to the floor, there’s your thumb over her nipples, hardening them to points, your teeth on her chest and leaving marks. She’s on your bed, her damp hair tumbling over one shoulder, the intoxicating ring of her irises like a shot in the dark.

“You don’t even know,” pants Nayeon, voice thick with heat, as you stroke her pussy through her panties. “You don’t even fucking know how long I’ve wanted this.”

“Oh,” you say, and pull her underwear to the side roughly - there’s that cunt, just for you, glistening and sopping wet and so, so ready - and a smirk finds your mouth, just off the brink of cruel. “I think I’ve got an idea.”

Nayeon’s so greedy, and you get it - she’s gotten everything she’s ever wanted for years and years, without question or hesitation - and she’s reaching for your hand, your fingers, needing you inside her in any way she can get you. She’s beyond wet; you already know she’s going to ruin your sheets, she’s gonna ruin something-

“Watch it,” you snap, grabbing her wrist so hard she yelps. “If you wanna get fucked, Nayeon, you need to behave.”

“Please,” Nayeon shoots back. The words tremble - she’s so turned on, she can’t hide it - but she’ll never back down from a fight. “I could get anybody to fuck me. I could walk out of here right now and have someone else’s dick in me in ten minutes.”

She’s rambling. You’re gonna bruise her wrist. Her tits heave as she tries to catch her breath, and when you brush against her pussy with your other hand, she lets out this gorgeous, weakened whimper - you’ve got her, you’ll make an example of a higher power, take an idol and make her human again.

“Sure.” Your fingers find her clit, teasing; Nayeon’s eyes snap to yours, ferocious, murderous. “But you don’t want just anybody.” Your dick throbs - there’s something primal, animalistic; if you wait any longer she’s gonna jump you, take what she wants and fuck you stupid. It’d be a threat if you didn’t want the exact same thing. “You want me.”

“Fucking asshole,” says Nayeon, hoarsely, but then you’ve got two fingers in her, her pussy clenching around you, and there’s a waning edge in the hostility: you know her too well. She’s not into being patient, ever. There’s never been a line between you two that she hasn’t been willing to toe. “You know - you know I never wanted anyone but you.”

That’s the blow, the bomb that’ll implode the two of you - or it would, but there’s never been a single secret between you and Nayeon, and that’s not about to change now.

“I know,” you manage, stunned, mesmerized by her, your palm falling from her wrist to her flat stomach, your fingers sliding out of her with an obscene, slick sound. “I know.”

“Please,” she begs. “Please fuck me.”

It’s filthy, it’s feelings, it’s years in the making. The head of your cock is at her needy, drooling cunt, and you can see it in her eyes, in the bruising marks you left scattered across her tits, her throat. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been. No one’s ever going to know her how you know her - no one’s ever even going to come close.

Your bury your dick inside of her, and it’s like there’s an ache you’ve waited lifetimes to relieve - and then, finally, ultimately, you’ve got her perfect pussy just for you, and you relieve it.

“God,” you hiss; Nayeon’s already whining, squirming under your hand firmly at her middle, holding her down - you think of going for her neck and you will, you think of flipping her over and watching her ass bounce back on your cock, and it’ll happen - but working your dick inside her impossibly tight pussy is more than enough for the time being; you’ve got your hands full, figuratively, literally. “This fucking pussy, Nayeon-”

You say her name, and it wrecks her - her fingers find yours where they’re balanced on her midriff, curling around you - and her jaw is slack, expletives falling from between her pretty, pouty lips like she’s never been advised to keep up a clean image. She’s with you, and she’s nothing like she is on camera. “Fuck me,” she’s babbling, “fuck me, fuck - your cock is so - fucking big, fucking me so good-”

She’s nothing like she is on camera, wrapped around your cock and crying out, but she’s everything that Im Nayeon has always been, otherwise: beautiful, irresistible, the most incomparable thing this town’s ever seen, and ever would. There’s all that bite to her, but she’s giving it up. You’re fucking her and for once she’s not gonna fight you on that.

“Just like I thought,” you murmur, and your thumb skates over her clit, gets a squeal, gets several. “You were fucking made to take my cock, weren’t you?”

You’re back in your time capsule of a room, and your veins are on fire, skin up in flames - you knew you wouldn’t be able to fuck her without dragging emotions into it, dragging your heart along as you pound Nayeon’s cunt, jerk your hips and get her screaming - you know that when you say it, you’re really saying something else, too. We were always going to end up this way, weren’t we?

“Yes,” Nayeon moans, voice ripping at the seams - it’s all the pleasure, all the anticipation, consuming, devouring. “Yes, yes, yes-”

You’re captivated by every single sound out of her mouth, every minute expression of that face, every gut-wrenching squeeze of her pussy, tight around your cock - call it a vice, the way she clamps down around you, the way you indulge in her perfect body like it’s a drug you’re using. Nayeon’s features crumple, fold: you’ve seen her onstage with all that bravado, all that confidence, showing off for a crowd - you’ve seen her hips and her tits and her tiny waist in form-fitting, skimpy outfits, practically painted to every curve - but now, she’s all for you.

(Hey, maybe her ego’s contagious; maybe you’ve got the girl everybody wants, and you get why they all treat her like a god.)

You’ll mind all your breaking points. “Cum for me, baby,” you order, and Nayeon screams.

There’s no air in the room, anymore, none in your lungs - it’s a fire without oxygen, nowhere to stay or go or feed on - and as she’s still shaking from her orgasm, jaw slack, you’re pulling out of her just to shoot your load all over the flawless, flat plane of her stomach, covering her skin in your cum - there’s everyone’s god, now, underneath you, slutty and sloppy and so thoroughly fucked-

“Oh, god,” Nayeon chokes out, strangled, the moment your cum soaks her. “Oh my god-”

It’s all in the air, with the two of you: the sex, the intimacy, the history. You take her stunning face in her hands and you dip to kiss her, fully aware of how responsive she is, the very second your lips meets hers. There’s a moan, there’s the arch of her back, there’s her tongue licking desperately into your mouth - “Nayeon,” you murmur, and tip your forehead to hers. Her breath’s uneven, eyelids fluttered shut. “Nayeon.”

Her eyes are closed, but a smile finds her lips, lights up her whole face; it’s a smile you’ve seen forever, in photos, across billboards, in all your best memories.

“You don’t even understand what you do to me,” she says, serenely, faintly. “When you say my name like that.”

There’s all that desire, and then the quiet honesty, and you swear a moment like this could last a lifetime. “Hey,” you say, and kiss her face - her nose, her forehead, both cheeks. You’ll take her as long as she’ll have you. “I think we’ve established by now that I know all about what I do to you.”

Nayeon’s a little hypnotized by how much you came across her stomach, a little stuck on it - you get up to get her some tissues, and when you turn around, she’s got cum-covered nails in her mouth, sucking on them shamelessly. The noises she’s making are fucked, and you stare.

“Fucking hell,” you say, dropping at her side on the bed.

“What?” asks Nayeon sweetly, licking her bottom lip. “You’re the one who came all over me. What did you want me to do?”

She’s trying to go for your usual banter, but it’s too soft, her smile too knowing and familiar, her body too open and comfortable. You can’t call this a one-night stand, can’t call it a fluke - she’s so safe in your bed that it looks like she’d stay there forever, if she could, you and her and these four walls.

Nayeon’s clothes are all over your floor, and you clean up all that silky skin. Her hair’s a mess, and the moon’s still coming through your window, glossing her body, her gorgeous eyes. You watch her face, and you can read her as well as you always have: every thought, every single intent.

(She’ll have to let this go, but she’s got a week to feel it first. It’s torture, the ticking clock, but it’s nothing the two of you haven’t had to feel already.)

“I can’t believe we haven’t done that before,” muses Nayeon, as you brush her hair off her forehead - she’ll have to take a shower, and you’ll have to join her, naturally. “Well, what’s the verdict?”

You eye her, sensing the jab like she’s already said it. “Sorry?”

“Fucking someone famous.” Nayeon tilts her head, smile sparkling like the stage lights she spends all her time under. “Was it everything you thought it would be?”

“Shut up.” You grab her at the hips, and she laughs, a mess of giggles, filling the space - she’s a celebrity, she’s larger than life - you’re the only one who can ground her like this. “You’re such a fucking idiot.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah,” you say, touching your lips to the top of her head. “That’s the only reason I wanted to fuck you, Nayeon. Because you’re famous. That’s all this is, obviously. Thanks for the bragging rights.”

The sarcasm drenches each syllable, and Nayeon laughs louder - she can read your every thought, but this one’s a lie that’s too clear to call out: you loved her long before all the superstardom, all the money, all the recognition. She knows exactly how you feel about her, and she won’t pretend otherwise. You know just how she feels about you, and it’s the most certain you’ve ever been about anything.

“Oh,” she says coyly, and leans in to kiss you. “You’re so welcome.”

The next morning, you’re taking inventory, staring at the girl in your bed and wondering how you’re going to explain this to your parents. She’s dressed by now, in one of your t-shirts and a pair of your pajama pants, drawstring pulled tight around her small waist and so oversized they cover her feet - that’s already bad enough, but then there’s her neck, pale skin marred with hickeys - okay, it’s worse.

“How do you feel about sneaking out the window?” you ask.

Nayeon tries to kick you and almost slides off the bed. “You think your parents will care that we had sex?” Her hair’s freshly washed, tied up and out of her face. “They’ve wanted you to marry me since the first time I came over.”

You gape at her, but her nose crinkles up with her grin, and, well - it’s not like she’s wrong.

True to her word, your parents are thrilled that she’s here - they’ve never really grasped the scope of exactly what a big deal Nayeon is, now, so they treat her just like they did when she was younger, spending breakfasts and family dinners with you, fitting in so smoothly it was like she’d always been there. To your parents, you think they’ll kind of always see Nayeon as that bright-eyed, eternally charming girl that stuck by your side like you’d both collapse if you had to be apart. There’s that same smile, that effervescent laugh - you can’t really fault them for it.

“How long are you here?” your mom asks her, as she’s making breakfast, and Nayeon’s at the kitchen table, nonchalantly recounting stories of all her famous friends. “Just for the holidays?”

“A week,” says Nayeon, glancing at you, mouth twisting ruefully.

Your mom makes a sympathetic noise. “Oh, that’s not very long, huh.”

Compare it to the seven years you spent apart - and no, it’s not. It’s a blip, a snag in time. In the grand scheme of things, it’d probably be nothing.

“No,” agrees Nayeon; it’s never nothing, when it’s the two of you. Her hand finds yours under the table, and it’s everything that matters, wrapped up in an hourglass, sand slipping through your fingers. “But we’ll make it count.”

“We’ll make it count?” you berate her, later, in the car as you’re driving up to the mansions on the hill, testing codes for gated communities, pointing out gaudy architecture like you’re real estate snobs - it’s an old game, a remnant from high school shenanigans. Nayeon could buy this whole neighborhood, and it’s somehow become hilarious, all these years later. “Way to tell my mom that you and I are going to be fucking nonstop the whole time you’re here-”

“Like she didn’t already know,” says Nayeon, unapologetic, and points to her neck. She’s still in your clothes: no point in getting dressed when she can’t exactly leave the car without getting recognized, but you think she’d stay in your t-shirts all week, regardless.

It’s an old story, between the two of you. “You’re such a slut.”

“Yeah, and you’re directly benefiting from it, so I don’t know why you’re complaining.”

She says it like a proposition, and - hey, that’s an opportunity you’re never going to pass up. You’ll cash your checks, reap your benefits. You’ll pull off to the side of the road and throw the car in park, bury your hand in her hair as she leans over the console, tugs down your pants, gets her pouty lips wrapped around your dick in record time-

“What would your fans say?” you tell her, lowly, hypnotized by how she gags around you. “Seeing their angelic little idol with a cock shoved down her throat.”

Nayeon pulls back just to laugh, raspy and shot, spit dripping from the corners of her mouth. “They’d fucking love it and you know it.”

You’re up in the hills, in the midst of construction sites, all danger and risk and safety hazards waiting to happen; you can’t get enough of how Nayeon slobbers around your cock, how she’s everything you’ve ever wanted wrapped up in one - the slickness of her tongue, the tightness of her throat, her blonde ponytail in your fist as her head bobs, fast, faster-

When you cum in Nayeon’s mouth, she chokes on it, can’t even swallow it all down. “Jesus fucking christ,” she gets out, and she’s giggling, so pleased with herself, wiping the cum dribbling from her lips, down her chin. “You - wow.” She taps the head of your cock with the ridged back of one of her nails, works her jaw like she’s trying to memorize the feeling of your dick filling her mouth. “Your cock is so sensitive.”

“Gloating?” you ask, struggling to catch your breath. “That’s - like - that’s such a turn-off, Nayeon.”

It’d be slightly more convincing if she didn’t still have your cum staining her lips. “Liar.”

You hook your fingers in the collar of the shirt she’s wearing, tug her closer to nip at her neck - she gives this noise that’s somewhere between an affronted squeal and an aroused, needy exhale. She’s so easy, but so are you. She’s so transparent, but with this little time there’s nothing else to be.

You’ll make it work; you’ll catch up. “Fine,” you admit, pressing down on hickeys you’ll only darken, aggravate - she’s got you wrapped around her finger, but at least it’s mutual. “I guess your narcissism is kind of sexy, or whatever.”

“I hate your fucking guts,” says Nayeon, but she’s smiling.

There’s all this ease to it, something you’ve never found with anyone else; something you don’t think you’ll ever find again. You two have always been a little obsessed with each other.

“More than a little,” Nayeon revises, considering it; you’re three days in, walking back all your history. You can’t keep your hands off of each other, can’t keep your mouths closed, can’t keep from falling for the millionth time. “I just remember thinking that I could tell you about every embarrassing shitty thing I’d ever done, and you’d just listen, and not make fun of me for it. You knew what I could handle, you know?”

You get what she means: teenage boys like to tease, to insult - you weren’t exempt from that, but you looked at Nayeon and you always seemed to know what lines never to cross. How to be gentle with her, when you knew she needed it.

“You too,” you point out; Nayeon was perceptive when it counted, reading rooms, boundaries. She’d defend you to the death without hesitation. “Whenever I was with you, I knew I could trust you. Like I felt safe with you.”

You can think of situations where you’d feel emasculated, admitting it - but there’s Nayeon with her eyes, her genuine, generous smile, sitting at your desk chair, jeans and a gauzy white top. She gets you, and you never have to explain, never have to bother with defenses. You’re with her and vulnerability spills like it’s never had a reason not to.

“All this past tense,” pegs Nayeon, charmed more than concerned.

“Right,” you say, realizing. “Hey, it all still applies. I feel safe with you.”

There’s your past: teachers knowing you two were a matching set, classmates calling her your other half, texting any second you were apart, touching the moment you were together again. Shifting from jokes to sincerity so easily, ride-or-die in all senses of the phrase. Well, here’s your present: there’s the sex, now, and that’s another angle to it. You’d think it’d ruin a friendship this intense; you’d assume it’d only complicate things - you’d be wrong. There’s never been anything simpler, between you and Nayeon.

Nayeon softens, and rises from your chair just to fit herself into your arms. There’s that smile: no one gets me like you get me, she’s saying. You’ve got only days left; you’re picking your battles. You’ll remember everything that made you two exactly who you are now.

(Oh - it’s not like you ever really forgot. Nayeon’s got all the love and attention she could ever need, and she’s still here, with you.)

“Flattery,” Nayeon says, finally, arching an eyebrow at you, her face too adorable for the suggestive tilt to her voice, “will get you everywhere.”

Her palm slips to your chest, finds your heart. “I’m not even trying to flatter you,” you say, amused. “And if I was, I can do better than that.”

“Then do better,” replies Nayeon, rapid-fire. “What, you need some incentive?”

It’s just like the two of you: teasing, to truth, to seconds away from ripping each other’s clothes off, taking sexual tension and bending it entirely to your will. There’s so many routes to intimacy - you loop your fingers in the waistband of her jeans, and this is the one you’re choosing tonight. She’s leaving, either way. You’ll fuck her like you’ve got all the time you could ever need.

You’re all about old habits, the two of you: your jaw drops when you get her out of her clothes, and then you laugh so hard you almost topple over.

“I’m sorry,” you say, enamored, fascinated, “you packed lingerie for a holiday break in your hometown? So - you aren’t even pretending that your plan wasn’t to get fucked, now.”

Nayeon sticks out her bottom lip, furrows her brows. She’s playing at irritated, but she’s too proud of herself, how your eyes are glued to her body even though the laughter - she plants her hands on her waist, and that’s only one place to look. Her lingerie’s all lacy and black and ribboned, panties so tiny you could snap them between your fingers, the cups of her bra with scalloped edges, fit to every curve like it was custom-made for her. It’s Im Nayeon, anyway: you wouldn’t be surprised if it was.

“What can I say?” She shifts, tosses her pale curtain of hair over a slender shoulder. All those cracks about her ego - well, you won’t lie here: it’s so fucking hot. “I like to be prepared.”

You hook your fingers in the sides of her panties, tangling your grip in what virtually amounts to nothing but flimsy strings, biting into the creamy skin of her hips. “Was this expensive?”

“Very.” Nayeon’s dark eyes flash at you, already following where you’re going. Perks of fucking someone who basically shares half your brain. “Which means if you rip any of it in any way, you’re paying for the damage.”

“You’d foot the bill for me,” you say, one hand already going to cup her pussy.

Nayeon’s knees tremble, glare slipping down a few watts - she attempts to recover, to double back with twice the venom. It’s a valiant effort, or it would be, if she weren’t so visibly, undeniably desperate. “Uh, the fuck I would.”

“Hm.” She’s already soaked, and the whine you get from her when you slip a finger inside her cunt is music all her fans would bankrupt themselves just to hear. “I think I could probably find a way to convince you.”

You rip the panties, because you know what lines to never cross, and which ones Nayeon’s just begging you to run right through. “See?” you say, gratified, as you make her cum, and cum, and cum. “Told you: I can be very convincing."

You think she’d probably try to put up a fight, on this one, but she’s too busy clamping down tight around your cock, her gorgeous eyes rolling back into her head, lips dropping moan after moan. She shudders when you slide out of her, your cum dripping from her pussy, and curls up right to your side - okay, so maybe there’s no fighting anything. Nayeon presses her lips to your jaw, and smiles like her own satisfaction is a secret she’s hiding.

“I’ll let it slide,” she whispers, soft against your neck. “Only just this once. Only for you.”

Here’s the thing: you’re running out of time, but you always were. You could ask her to stay with you, give it all up, but you won’t; you’d never. She fills you in on every minute detail of her life, and she’s so happy - you’ve never seen her so happy.

“Fame suits me,” says Nayeon, unashamed. “It’s exhausting and fucked and anxiety-inducing - and it’s so much fun. It’s exhilarating. It’s like - it’s a non-stop adrenaline rush.” She laughs, free, talking the dream she’s living into reality - like you’d ever be able to wrap your head around it. “I think I’m kind of good at it, too.”

Her lips quirk at a corner, a deliberate understatement; she never needs to act humble with you.

Nayeon doesn’t even have an agenda, with this. She loves talking about her life, all the opportunity: the events, the fans, the attention, the way she can sing anything and people will listen. You talk about your own life, your major and your mentors and the friends you’ve made, and it’s then that you realize it-

“We really did make it,” you tell her, a little wondrously. “Without each other.”

Nayeon’s curled up to your side, on your couch. Something’s playing on the TV that she keeps laughing at, her whole face scrunching with delight. She looks at you sideways, says, “You didn’t think we would.”

It’s not a question, and you know because now she’s playing with the cuff of your shirt, bottom lip tucked into her mouth thoughtfully. Codependent - everyone said you were. You had a lot of skeptics, looking at the two of you, people disbelieving that either of you would even survive after Nayeon left.

“I wasn’t sure if we would, either,” she says, quietly.

Her life’s all in lights, in every magazine, spread across all the websites; yours is the opposite, but she listens to all your stories anyway - she gets the gist. You’re happy, too. You’ve worked hard to get where you are and it’s all you could’ve ever asked for. You and Nayeon have got success in completely different places, but you’ve got it anyway: you’ve found it all on your own.

“But we did,” says Nayeon, after a beat. There’s a joke on the television that she grins at, wrapped up in your arms. She’s leaving in a few days, a bomb waiting to go off. There’s an implication in this, something she’s not telling you but you understand anyway. “We did make it.”

We did make it, she’s saying. We can make it again, you and me. You with me, even if we’re worlds apart.

Your thumb skims her cheek, slips into her hair. Nayeon looks over at you, then says, “Give me your phone.”

You twist so she can slip it out of your back pocket - she knows your passcode, knows every facet of your life down to the letter. “Nayeon?” you ask, a little puzzled, as her nails click across your screen, the top of her head bumping your chin. “Are you…”

“Shh,” she says, mildly, then without warning, she’s on the camera, flipping the phone to take a picture of the two of you. You raise your eyebrows, intrigued; she’s falling back on her idol training, a peace sign and her tongue poking out from the corner of her mouth. “There,” she says, after, tapping once and then handing the phone back, a new, decisive set to her lips. “That’s my number. My real number.”

Your gaze drops to the phone screen - there it is, her number and her name and the picture she’d taken sitting as the contact photo - and when you glance back, Nayeon’s observing your face, checking for your reaction: if you’re in this just as much as she is. If you’re serious - if you’re really going to do this. If you get what’s going to come next and if you’re ready for it.

“I can call you on this?” you ask, slightly struck.

Nayeon scoffs, eyes sparkling, shoulder pressed to yours. “Uh - yeah, genius, that’s kind of the point.”

You’re smiling too wide. “So…”

“So if you leak my phone number, my company’s gonna sue you for everything you’re worth,” Nayeon says, haughtily, rapping her knuckles against your thigh. She’s severing the sentimentality of the moment, covering it up with humor. You get it - it’s a way out, an exit route. You know what she means by this even if she’s not saying it out loud.

“Okay,” you murmur, and kiss her temple. Nayeon’s nose scrunches up, pleased. There’s another one-liner on the show you’re watching, and this time it makes you both laugh, Nayeon hiding her giggles in the back of her hand. You’d think it’d be the point where the moment snaps shut, but instead it’s spreading, encompassing - like in a few days, she’ll be on the next flight back to the place she calls home, and you’ll still be able to feel her next to you, music in her laugh, forever wound in the curve of her smile.

She’s leaving, already. Her number’s in your phone, her heart’s in your hands. She’s leaving, but for once, maybe it doesn’t mean that anything has to end.

There are two days left, so you’re taking all the chances you can get. Sure, there’s catching up on shows, gossip; there’s her in your room, telling you things that probably break NDAs - from the outside looking in, you’d never guess that she’s at this ungodly level of fame and that you two haven’t talked in seven years. It’s all so normal, so relaxed, so cute.

Well - okay, most of it is cute. As long as you’re overlooking all the-

“You know, if you get any louder, we’re gonna get caught.”

Your week’s almost up, and you’ve got all your extended family filling your house, so you’ve found your escape the only way you can: in the backyard, your cock tapping against Nayeon’s pouty lips, the both of you drenched in shadow. And - true to form - she’s being a fucking menace about the blowjob that she’s barely giving you.

Everything’s pared down to the tactile, the physical; her hair’s back in two braids that you’ll tug, she’s testing your patience. You glare down at her - her fingers wrap around your cock just to release it. “And who’s fault would that be?”

Nayeon’s tongue darts out to lap at the head of your cock, flicking fast, eyes trained on you, watching as you struggle to keep it together, struggle not to wrap your hand in her hair and bury your dick inside her throat. She’s a tease like it’s her job - because if you think about it, it kind of is. There’s that intoxicating, cunning glint in her eye: she could do this all day.

“You’re fucking evil,” you manage, voice strained.

Like you said, Nayeon’s always had that ego - all the fame’s only stoked the fire. “Sorry?” she murmurs, blinking pointedly up at you, breath hot on your cock, torturous. “I can leave right now, if you wanted to take care of this all by yourself.”

“Fuck you.”

“You’re not gonna get to if you keep talking to me like that.”

Oh, that’s a threat with absolutely zero weight behind it, but you already know it. A split second after you cum in her mouth - she’s still wiping semen off her chin, cheeks puffing out trying to swallow it all - you’ve got her up against you, your hand down the front of her sweatpants, her pussy already dripping wet, getting her right to the edge of her orgasm like it’s nothing.

“Look at you,” you say, vicious like a risk just begging to be taken; you know exactly what she wants and how to give it to her. “Now who’s being loud?”

Nayeon tries to roll her eyes only to get caught on a climax, instead. Ah, well: it’s one way for you to call it even.

“I’d kiss you,” she tells you, after, “but some guy just came in my mouth five minutes ago.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you say, unnecessarily - you’ll make her, instead.

Your time’s almost up. She wakes up in your bed on the very last day, hickeys spanning her neck, her tits, her thighs. You run your fingers along them and wonder how the two of you are ever going to get away with this. “What’s your company going to say about this?”

Nayeon laughs, soft in the morning, sun-soaked and ethereal. “Contrary to popular belief,” she says - she’s built her living around playing coy, showing just enough to tantalize, baring what’ll draw allure and nothing more - “it’s not my company’s job to keep me out of trouble.”

“No?”

“Nope.” There’s that gorgeous face, those eyes trapping stars, captivating anyone who even comes close. “It’s to keep everyone from finding out about it.”

“Oh," you say, grinning. "Is that right?”

“Yep.” When Nayeon kisses you, it’s like a promise she’s making, an oath she’ll make and swear on. “Believe me,” she says, and smiles just to sign on the dotted line. “I can get into all the trouble that I want.”

You stay in for old times’ sake, enjoy no one’s company but each other’s - wrapped in your duvet, Nayeon half in your lap - except instead of talking about shitty classes and dramas and movies you’re planning on watching together, Nayeon’s tilting her phone towards you, letting you flick through unreleased photos for her new comeback. “Perks of fucking me,” she tells you crassly, conversationally, like that’s all it is - the fond curl of her mouth betrays her. “You get all the sneak peeks.”

“I’m getting more than a peek,” you say, struck dumb by a series of photos of Nayeon in this sinfully tight, abominably short pink bodysuit, monogrammed with red. It’s fucked up, so you’ll say it out loud. “Jesus, this outfit.”

Nayeon taps the screen excitedly, nails clicking; it’s beyond adorable how excited she gets about it all, about the music and the aesthetics and the clothes and the choreography - it’s one thing to see her on-screen, and it’s another entirely to see all the passion in person, all the effort. It’s times like this where you understand it all perfectly: if there’s anything in the world she was made for, it’s this. “Right? It was made from this Louis Vuitton towel just for me to wear it - insane, no?”

“Yeah,” you say, gawking at the photos of her with those mouthwatering thighs all on display, the buttons popped at the collar. She’d said red was her color - and it is, but it’s Nayeon, and every color looks like it was created for her. “It’s fucked up.”

“That it’s made out of a towel? I actually thought it was ingenious.”

You take a look at her expression - there’s that mischief in her eyes, a dead giveaway. “Obviously not that,” you say, then amend, humoring her, “well, that’s cool, too. You’re right. A towel - ingenious.”

“Totally.”

You clip her on the hip, making Nayeon gasp, go to pinch you on the shoulder. “No,” you correct, dodging, “the fucked up thing is how hot you are.”

Nayeon’s in one of your t-shirts and her own underwear and nothing else, her neck so marked up that anyone would think she’d gotten mauled, her blonde hair disheveled from sleep and tumbling over her shoulders. You’ve never once had a filter around each other - never had any room for embarrassment or shame, between the two of you.

“You and that flattery,” says Nayeon, her teeth gleaming in her grin.

“Uh-huh.” You press the phone back in her hand, lift your eyebrows in a provocation. “Where’s it getting me?”

Nayeon clicks it off, tilts her head like she’s studying you. You’ll take all your last risks before you wrap it up. “Where do you wanna go?”

You bring it back to the start. You end up on the beach, the two of you curled up on a towel, another one around both your shoulders, staring out at the waves: there's the moonlight overhead, everything hazy like you’re living in a dream.

It’s freezing, so you won’t touch the water. Nayeon’s head is on your shoulder, and neither of you want to snap the silence, but you will, anyway. It’s a night for confessions - there’s the moon, listening; the waves, all salt and seafoam, thinning out to reach the sand. Nayeon whispers, like she’s afraid someone will hear her, “I’m gonna miss this.”

Your hand is slipped under her cardigan, thumb notched under the strap of her tank top - sometimes it’s like you’d just die if you weren’t touching her. Her fist’s at the hem of your shirt, nails brushing your abdomen; you know she’s always felt the same way.

“I know,” you say, and there’s no one else to hear it, but for once Nayeon’s right here, and it’s enough, and she doesn’t need an audience to prove it. “Me too.”

There’s a presence to this kind of intimacy, how it blooms, how it settles. It’s freezing, so you’ll pull her body into yours - there’s the wind, there’s the risk of being caught, nipping at all her smooth skin - and there’s never been any sex like this, for either of you. It’s more than just feral, more than just fucking: Nayeon moans your name, lets her back arch like she has no control over her body, lets her cunt clench tight around your cock like the only thing she has control over is you.

“Please,” she whimpers, the swirling winter air stealing the words right out from her lungs. “Please - please fuck me, please cum in me, I need to feel your cum - filling me up, wanna feel it leaking out of me - please.”

The beach is empty, but you’d fuck her the same way in front of rooms full of people, of watchful, prying eyes. It's all meant to be secret, something between the two of you and no one else - you'll keep it as long as you have her, safe somewhere in your chest, spread between your fingers. When she falls back to flashing cameras and adoring fans, she’ll play like she’s up for grabs, but she isn’t: she’s yours, in every way. She’s yours, always.

“I’m yours,” Nayeon breathes into your neck, pliable and needy underneath you, every part of her body reaching for you as if you’re her first and only instinct. “Yours, yours.”

Please don’t forget, her eyes beg you. Please love me like this forever.

Your fingers wrap around the pale column of her throat - you’ll steal her words this time around, make her eyelids shutter and her eyebrows draw together, panting; she’s slicker than the ocean around you, thighs salty with sweat, cum - and when you squeeze, Nayeon falls apart.

She’ll be gone tomorrow. She’ll be gone, and there’s no telling when she’s coming back.

“Baby,” you exhale, dipping to kiss her, shuddering as your orgasm builds like it’s something to break. You can’t even fuck her without throwing your feelings right at her feet; can’t have her neck in your hand without having her heart, too. There’s no separating the sex and the sentiment. She’s your best friend, she’s the love of your life; you’ll never have one without the other. “Always.”

Forever, you tell her, in your lips on hers, in her nails scoring welts down your back. Years in the making, and it all culminates here. I’ll love you forever.

Nayeon’s whining and writhing and gasping for air by the time you cum inside her, and the moment you let up on her throat she’s rising to kiss you again. There’s so much, between the two of you - there’s the ocean, threatening to drown, consume; there’s fame, alive in every shimmering skyline - and then there’s her number sitting in your phone, a years-long yearning waiting to become something more. The stars are overhead, aligning. The moon’s winking at you, turning all the tides.

You kiss her one more time, and say, “Let’s go home.”

It’s the middle of the night, and you’re back in your bed together, thumbing her ribs like you’re counting lifelines, following the curve of her waist like you’re cartographing all the places you’ve already been. You’ll be back, someday. You’ll trace her bare wrist, follow the pathways of her veins right on home.

“You know I always loved you, right?” Nayeon asks, voice soft, close.

It’s not the time for insecurity, for mincing words, for purposeful ignorance. “Yeah.”

“You know I still do, then.” Nayeon lifts her head, irises glinting with unshed tears, her blonde hair a mess over her forehead. Fame turned a girl into a god, and she came back to you anyway. She’ll do it again, in time. “Don’t you?”

“Nayeon.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” you say, heart high in your throat. “I know. I always knew. I love you, too.”

There’s too much emotion in the room for words, and Nayeon finds your mouth in the dark like she’s been doing it her whole life. You’ve said so much already. You’ll crack open every window, let the air in; you’ll crack your chest apart, and let your love breathe.

The morning comes, and it’s time for a return to form - you’ve got lives to live, both of you. Responsibilities, obligations. There’s something in the sunrise, like it’s calling her back; the limelight won’t know how to survive without Im Nayeon sparkling under it. She can’t stay. She never could.

“It’s been fun, I guess,” says Nayeon flippantly, defaulting to stupid humor; if she doesn’t make you both laugh, then you’ll both crumble.

“Shut up,” you say, thickly, as she takes your hand, drags you out of bed. Her eyes are glassy, her fingers laced with yours like she’s scared to let go. “You’re such a dumbass.”

You lean in to kiss the crown of her head. There’s a twist to Nayeon’s mouth, tender - and you know that even when she does let your hand go, you’re still going to be hers and hers alone.

Well, you know what they say about distance, absence: it’ll all make the heart grow fonder. It’d been true, before. Maybe it can be true again.

“What an optimistic take,” says Nayeon, dryly, and her bottom lip’s already trembling, breathing already uneven as she tries to choke back tears. You’re out on the sidewalk again, and it’s all circling back, cyclical; she’s in your arms, and you’re both right where you started. “I agree completely. Seven years wasn’t enough. I need to get away from you, stat.”

It’s so her, making dumb jokes just so she doesn’t sob herself to pieces. Her hair’s spilling over her shoulders, golden; her stunning eyes are locked on yours, one hand pressed to the side of your neck, thumb finding your jaw. There’s a car waiting, her luggage packed up and put away; it’s gonna hurt, and you already know it. Nayeon’s shoulders are high like she’s preparing herself for some physical ache, the moment she steps away - she’s putting up her fronts, but they’re all slipping. She’s putting up a good fight and it’s already lost.

“I love you,” you say, emotion twining up your throat, and it’s enough to cleave her façade in two.

“Fuck,” Nayeon manages, and lifts her wrist over her mouth, expression collapsing in on itself. “I know. I love you. I’m - I’m so sorry-”

“Hey, hey-”

You go to everything you’ve ever learned, all the ways to ground Nayeon again before she floats away: there’s her face in your hands, and you’re looking right at her, firm so she can see how serious you are. “Hey,” you say, trying to soothe her even as your own heart threatens to constrict, shut off; she’s more important. She always has been. “You don’t need to be sorry, okay? You didn’t do anything wrong. This is just - it’s just how it is. We both know that.”

It’s been seven years: you and Nayeon, and it’s the oldest story ever told. It’s no one’s fault - not hers, for everything she’s accomplished; not yours, for not begging her to stay.

(See, she’s got the whole world waiting with bated breath, clamoring to get a glimpse of her. She’s got her whole life at her fingertips, ready for her to reclaim her titles. You’d never, ever hold her back.)

“Yeah,” chokes out Nayeon, visibly distraught, eyes wide and watery, “but, like - it still fucking sucks.”

It’s not the place, or the time - you’re both fracturing at every place that’s already been broken, over and over - but she says this, and it’s such a crass, blunt, stupid way to sum it all up. You can’t help it. She says it, and before you know it, you’re both dying laughing.

Nayeon’s leaning into you, breaths caught on giggles, on sobs - laughing like it’s all okay, laughing like she’s not leaving - and her fingers are gripping your elbows, her face crinkling up, that brilliant grin even through her tears. “Nayeon,” you get out, and your adoration strikes a match through your bloodstream, forest-fire flames licking, demolishing. That’s your girl: so gorgeous no one else exists. “Nayeon.”

She’s laughing, and free, and wonderful, and in that one stunning moment, you feel it: you know you're both going to be okay.

“Like, this is stupid.” Nayeon’s still on her tirade, her palm slapping your forearm vigorously, pitch picking up. You can’t stop smiling, can’t stop the tears building; you’ve never loved anyone more, and never will. “We’re in love and all that shit. We’ve always been in love. Why - I just - I feel like we never have enough time.”

“Nayeon,” you say, for the third time, and finally her focus tunnels completely and only on you.

“What?”

“We’ll be alright,” you say, and press your lips to her forehead so she knows you mean it. “We have all the time in the world.”

She kisses you, one last time. It’s a prospect, or that oath she’ll swear to keep, coming back around. She’s in your arms, chin tipped up at you, and there are doors you’ll throw wide open, hurdles to get over. It’s not going to be easy, this kind of love, this kind of distance, but you’ll make it work. You’ll love each other, and it’ll work.

Nayeon’s smiling up at you, heavy-hearted, hopeful, eyes glittering like constellations. “Promise me something.”

Anything, you think of saying. Anything you want and I’ll do it. “Okay.”

“Call me.” Her hands are in yours - there’s the sun, overhead, and it can’t even hope to compete with her. “If I can’t answer, leave me voicemails. Text me. Tell me everything, even the dumb shit.” There’s that pain building in her voice, half-strangling her - you tap the inside of her wrist, mind her pulse points. You’ll listen like everyone does. “I’m going to miss so much of your life, but - make me feel like I won’t, okay? Make me feel like I’m there.”

“I promise,” you say, softly.

Nayeon sinks into your arms, breath catching, stumbling. You bury your face in her hair and wonder if you can memorialize a second in time like this one, weave it into your soul, lock it up in your ribcage; if there’s a way to take this feeling and make it physical - if there's a way to cup it between your palms and make it forever.

“One more,” whispers Nayeon, into your neck. “Make me one more promise.”

“Anything,” you tell her, out loud - there’s not a thing you’d ever hide from her.

“Promise you’ll remember that I’ll come back to you.”

It's an exhale, a pause to take a breath. It’s not even a question. Your pinky finds hers, coils them together. “I promise,” you say, and you feel her smile against your skin.

Whatever thread’s always been between you two knots, and tightens, encased in steel - you’ll feel it even miles away, whatever’s tying her to you, tugging at your heart, linking your fingers. You’ll feel her, even if it takes years; oh, it’s Nayeon, and there’s nothing you won’t do. You’ll have faith. You’ll keep your arms open, ready for her to come running home. She’ll love you from worlds away, and you know she always will.

(I promise, you say, and you know you’re gonna make it.)

Her car leaves, peeling off the asphalt, taking her back to a universe that adores her, worships her, would do anything to possess her and make her theirs. You could stand on the sidewalk forever, unmoving. You could let your own life disintegrate into nothing. You could cry, and scream, and curse out every deity you can think of, damn everything pulling you two apart down to hell.

Instead, you call her.

"Oh, shit," Nayeon says, on the other line, forgoing any greeting. "I just left three seconds ago. If you can't even handle that, this relationship is totally fucked."

You can still hear the remnants of tears in her voice, the ghost of watery laughter. A phone call can't hide a thing - not from you. "I love you."

A sigh, a huff, a put-upon irritation that's seconds from cracking wide open. "You're so clingy. How are you gonna survive on just phone sex until you see me again?"

"Nayeon," you say, grinning.

"I love you," she says, with all the unabashed endearment in the world, and just like all her songs, you swear it's a melody sweet enough to break records. "I'll see you soon."

You smile up at the open sky, and you know that you will.

stream IM NAYEON <3

#kpop smut #kpop fanfic #idol x male reader #idol x reader #twice smut #nayeon smut #reader insert #male reader #im nayeon

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buckybarnesb-tch · 11 months

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The Art Nerd

Modern!Highschool Klaus M. Pt. I

She was the only person in the school besides his family who gave him the time of day, let alone treated him with any kindness, even his siblings struggled with that half the time. She was one of the few popular girls who wasn't a bitch to all of the kids around her and he admired that about her, ever since the day she first spoke to him he hadn't been able to get her off of his mind and even he knew he was a little obsessed.

The first time she talked to him she was commenting on his painting. She had been sent to the classroom to drop something off to the teacher and as she went to leave she walked passed Klaus, seeing his painting. It was a beautiful, dark night sky and she was in love with it immediately.

'Wow. That is beautiful!' He was startled by her voice, usually completely focused when he paints which makes hearing other people a complication, though people don't usually talk to him so it's not often a problem. When he turned to see her he recognized her instantly, who wouldn't? She was one of the most popular girls in the school, though she wasn't completely cruel to those around her. Her boyfriend however, James, was an asshole who had abused Klaus both physically and verbally on many occasions, both that she knew nothing about that. He had never really looked at her before but now that he was his hands were practically itching to sketch those gorgeous eyes of hers.

He realized he had been staring at her a little longer than was humanly acceptable so he immediately stumbled over his words to say something. Anything! 'Thank you.' Thank you? Thank you?! That's all he has? He's pathetic!

'It amazes me that people can paint like that. I can't even draw stick figures.' She leaned closer to get a better look at his painting and he was overcome with her scent, inhaling as subtly as he could when he realized how Wonderful her smell is. Mango and Pomegranate? Along with something flowery that was just perfect and practically had him melting. He wanted to nuzzle his face into her neck and just take in her scent as deeply as he could. 'You're really talented Klaus.' He was instantly stunned. She knows his name? His name?! He was stunned but he surely didn't mean to say it out loud.

'You know my name?' He wanted to slap himself in the face.

'Of course I do. We've had 3 classes together since 9th grade. It's Niklaus, isn't it?' He nodded.

'Yeah, I know, it's a really weird name, I've heard it all before.' He joked but she didn't laugh.

'I don't think it's weird, I like it. My name is Y/n, how boring is that? Why would you want the same name as everyone else? It's unique.' She was sure of herself and he was touched that she liked anything about him, let alone something that he had been embarrassed of since he was 5.

'Thank you...I used to get teased about it by everyone, including my brothers. It's nice to know not everyone thinks it's stupid I guess.' She smiled and god damn if that smile didn't light up his whole world.

'I'm glad. I should go before my teacher thinks I ditched, I hope I get to see your painting when it's finished, it really is amazing. See you later, Nik.' With that she was gone and he was left there staring after her like some love sick puppy...which he absolutely was!

For the rest of the day Klaus could be found with his sketchbook in hand, drawing her beautiful eyes over and over again. He was obsessing over every little detail of her cute little nose and her full, kissable lips and by the time the last bell rang he had drawn her 4 times. He tucked the book into his bag and shoved his notebooks into his locker when he was suddenly shoved from behind, hands pushing him painfully into the locker before shutting the door behind him, laughter from 3 jocks outside for several moments before he could pull the latch and let himself out. That asshole had been abusing him since his first day of high school and now as a Junior the moron should be gone but he is, as he said, a moron and has been held back 3 times yet somehow still allowed to play football and to wrestle. How does a piece of shit like that get a girl like Y/n?

Over the next few weeks his crush grew into full blown obsession and even his brothers had noticed, the brothers he lived with who never notice anything! Kol teased him but he could be shut up pretty easily with a punch to the mouth, Elijah just warned his little brother of the risks of what he's doing. Though Elijah is in college now, he had been in the same class as James for years before the kid started getting held back and he knew very well that his little brother would get crushed if he pissed James off. Finn however just wanted details in the insane chance that Klaus actually got the girl into his bed, which Klaus found offensive. Finn was a dick when it came to women, everyone but his girlfriend Sage who had straightened him out when they started dating 2 years ago, though he was still a pig when it came to anyone else. If Klaus was lucky enough for Y/n to give him the time of day he would Never share details with anyone, especially his asshole older brother.

It was 3 weeks before Klaus spoke to Y/n again. He had finally gotten the painting graded and could take it home, and while he normally would take it home and hang it in his basement bedroom (a room his mother had fixed and given to him to make it easier for her son to avoid Mikael when he's angry or drunk), this time he had no intention of taking it home. He had been watching Y/n for weeks now and knew exactly where she was after school, walking outside and to the side of the building to see her with her cheerleading friends. He took a deep breath and steadied himself, walking over and instantly having their undivided attention as he got close, none of these popular girls probably ever having been approached by a nerd of any kind. Klaus was an art nerd, he spent all of his time in the art rooms, he wore dorky glasses sadly and he got incredible grades, he knew it and he was fine with it...most of the time. The only time he had a problem with it was lately as he knew a girl like Y/n, despite how kind she was, would never give him the time of day when it came to dating him.

'Are you lost, dork?' One of the cheerleaders asked and he felt his face heat up, ready to just give up on this stupid idea when Y/n spoke up.

'Shut up Stacey! He hasn't even said a single word and you're already being a bitch!' She snapped and all of them stopped laughing, having the decency to look at least a little bit sorry. 'Hi Klaus. What's up?' He grinned, ecstatic that she was so receptive to him approaching her at all, let alone in front of her friends.

'I um...I just finished getting the painting graded and I remember you saying you wanted to see it when it was done?' Her eyes lit up and she smiled a beautiful grin that Klaus instantly knew he would be drawing later.

'Yes! I can't believe you remembered! Show me!' He turned the canvas around and allowed her to see it, letting her take it from him to inspect it closer, her friends now moving to see it as well. 'Klaus...this is incredible! You are so talented there aren't words for it! Isn't this amazing?' She asked her friends who all looked quite stunned by it.

'It is, it's really fucking good.'

'Truth. You have some serious talent. You should be in like, some special art school or something.'

'Brittany is right. You should be! Tell me you're going to some fancy art college after next year?' Y/n asked and he shrugged, blushing like crazy now.

'I'm going to apply to a few but they're really hard to get into, you know?' She nodded.

'Well I'm sure you'll get in, they would be crazy not to like this. I love it Klaus, really.' He nodded, smiling and not taking it from her when she went to hand it back.

'Good. Because it's yours.' All of them looked up at him in surprise, some of the girls giggling while another poked Y/n in the side, all of them walking away at this point to head to the football field for practice.

'Klaus...I can't accept this. You worked so hard on it, and don't you need it for like, your gallery or something to apply to schools?' He shook his head, smiling at her use of the word gallery.

'No, I have some photos of it for my art portfolio, I've been putting it together for years hoping to get out of this fucking town. I do hope I have a gallery of my own someday, but that's a long way off. Maybe someday when that happens, years and years off you'll let me borrow it to showcase, either way it's yours. I enjoyed how your eyes lit up when you saw it, no one has ever really been interested in my art work before besides my little sister, though I think that's just because she knows my family doesn't care much for my artwork.' Y/n looked saddened by that and he hated it immediately, never wanting to see her sweet face frowning.

'That's fucked up. Your family should be supporting you, especially when you're this good! Why don't they?' She seemed genuinely upset for him and it sent butterflies fluttering through his stomach.

'It's complicated I suppose, my mother had an affair and I'm not my fathers son, my relationship with my parents has been...complicated to say the least but you don't need to hear about that. My siblings just aren't into art, simple as that. My older brother Elijah is supportive, as much as he can be.' He didn't like the look of pity on her face as he told her this and tried to get out of the conversation quickly. 'I hope you like it.'

She caught his arm as he turned to leave before wrapping her arm around his neck and hugging him to her. 'I'm so sorry you have to suffer through that. I can't relate to that exactly but my family is fucked up too, my dad is a drunk and my mom numbs the pain with drugs so I pretty much take care of myself. I can empathize is my point...thank you for the painting. It was very thoughtful, I'll take wonderful care of it, I promise.' He wrapped his arms around her, taking the opportunity to take in her scent and feel her body pressed against his. He had been dreaming of her for a month now and finally feeling her body against him was like he was back in one of his dreams, her breasts pressed against his chest firmly and it was all he could think about, his cock twitching to life in his boxers prompting him to let go before this became embarrassing. 'I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?'

'Yes. Absolutely!' With that she was gone and he happily watched her walk away, desperately wanting to know what her cute little ass felt like in his hands, or pressed up against his crotch as he held her to him tightly...if only he had some kind of a chance with her.

From that day on she greeted him every time she saw him in the halls, and every time it made his day. He had caved for the first time after that hug, practically running to his room as he got home and wrapping his fingers around his cock, trying like hell to imagine they were hers as he could still feel her breasts pressed against his chest. His hand had been wrapped around his cock ever since.

It was a week later at the end of the school day that he was grabbed from behind, dropping his bag as he prepared to be shoved into the locker again, but he wasn't. He was spun around and pinned to the locker door, looking up to see James behind him and for once he was alone. The halls were deserted as Klaus had stayed after school to finish his newest painting, wanting it to dry over the weekend so he could hand it in on Monday and he felt a chill run up his spine when he realized no one was going to help him if this jerk decided to beat him to death.

'You know, I've been shoving you into lockers and smacking you around for almost 3 years and until a week ago I had no fucking clue what your name was. So why is it that now it's all I hear?' His eyes widened, not having expected that at all. 'Tell me, Klaus...why is my girlfriend suddenly talking about you as if you're fucking Mozart with that damn 'Night Sky' painting she hung in her room?!' Klaus couldn't decide what his mind wanted to focus on, the fact that she hung his painting in her room, the fact that she's talking about him on such a regular basis that James is this upset, or that James has clearly been in her room quite often and imagining him with his hands all over her naked body makes Klaus want to set him on fire. He's willing to bet however, that he picked the wrong one instantly.

'Mozart was a composer, he wrote music, he didn't paint. Maybe you're thinking of Van Gogh with his painting 'The Starry Night'? Though mine is drastically different in every way so I don't know how you could-' he was cut off by the meat headed Jocks fist straight to his eye, his head colliding with the locker hard.

'You are becoming a complication for me Klaus, and I don't like complications when it comes to my girl. She should be focused on me! When I'm in her bedroom there's only one thing I want and it's not to hear about the complexities of your God Damn Fucking Painting!' The idea that James was not only fucking her, but disrespecting her on top of that when she blessed him with the ability to not only see but touch her gorgeous body set every inch of his mind on fire with rage. He was about to snap some sort of comeback that would probably get him beaten when they were both startled.

'James?' Both of their heads turned to see where Y/n had walked in from the stairwell. 'What are you doing?! Let Him Go!' She shouted and he was honored that she was sticking up for him, making him feel like the king of the world before he suddenly got punched again, this time in the nose making him cry out, feeling and tasting the blood that exploded from his face.

'No! He's gonna learn his fucking lesson! You don't go muscling in on a man's women, especially when you're a little punk who can't fight back!'

'Muscling in on-what are you talking about?! He's my friend! I shared with you how much I love the painting so you could learn something new about me, yet you still never paid an ounce of attention to anything except my tits! Let Him Go!' Her voice was firm and Klaus could tell she was pissed but if James noticed, he didn't care.

'You ain't been putting out like normal, what am I supposed to think, huh?! We've been together for over a year and I know how much of a little slut you are, if you ain't getting it from me then you must be getting it somewhere! I wouldn't have guessed this little fucker could give you any kind of fuckin' that's worth while, but stranger things have happened.' She hadn't been sleeping with him? Klaus wanted to think maybe he had something to do with it but his logical mind was telling him it more than likely had something to do with this morons attitude rather than Klaus.

'I told you that if you didn't start paying attention to me and giving a damn about our relationship that I wouldn't be dedicating myself to this relationship anymore! This shows EXACTLY how much you listen to me, now let him go! You have no reason to hurt him, besides, if it wasn't already clear from this conversation, we're done! You can find a new girl to put out, I hope she's as dumb as you so she won't feel the need to talk! Lord knows she won't be getting any actual conversation from you.' James looked stunned, like he didn't know quite how to respond but he seemed to figure it out when he pulled his arm back to hit Klaus once again. As James' hand came down Klaus was yanked out of the way and he collapsed to the floor on top of Y/n as the Jocks hand collided with the lockers painfully, causing him to howl in pain.

'You Fucking Cunt!' Klaus pulled her up to her feet and she looked over his face and he could see how badly Y/n felt about it. 'Fuck this shit! You ain't worth it, I mean yeah you have a tight pussy but you're so fucking needy! All the snuggling and the pet names and needing me to spend time with you every damn day! She's all yours, freak!' With that James stormed off and Klaus was left with Y/n pulling him towards the bathrooms.

'I can't go in there!' Klaus insisted, seeing she was taking him into the girls room but she just huffed.

'Everyone has gone home, and the cheerleaders have locker rooms. No one will come in here.' She pulled him through the doorway and pushed him to sit on the counter. Klaus watched as she wet a paper towel and began cleaning the blood from his face very gently. Even when his mother had cleaned him up after Mikael had beaten him again she was never this tender and careful, he found himself wanting to get hurt everyday if this is the treatment he got. 'I'm sorry he did this to you, it's all my fault. I should have known he would freak out if I tried to do anything other than take my top off.'

'Y/n, it is not your fault! He's either hit me or shoved me into my locker at least twice a week for 3 years. I'm sorry he treated you like that, you deserve so much better. He should consider himself lucky you let him see you like that, listening to what you say shouldn't be treated like a chore. He's a fucking idiot.' Y/n had stopped cleaning his face and all at once Klaus realized what he had said. 'Not that it's any of my business and I didn't mean-I-well I didn't mean to...I'm sorry.'

'Don't be. You're incredibly sweet Klaus, and you're right, he's an idiot. He's been held back 3 times, plus once in second grade, like how the fuck do you get held back in second grade?!' They were both laughing at that point and for the first time he felt completely comfortable with her, not nervous at all, he enjoyed how carefree she seemed. 'He's right though, I'm definitely needy. He loved it when I called him 'Daddy' but calling me pet names or caring for me or something as simple as snuggling after sex should be, was insane to him. Like, yeah, I have Daddy and intimacy issues, I don't comment on how stupid and childish you are, why cant you just let me feel small?!' He was stunned, she was talking to him so freely and personally that he didn't quite know what to do, but he didn't want her to stop. He definitely needed to go home and take care of himself now that he's picturing her in baby blue lingerie, calling him Daddy, and snuggling into his chest but he never wanted this moment to end. 'Oh God, I'm so sorry!' He quickly realized that he hadn't said anything after her little rant and he felt bad immediately. 'You didn't need to know any of that! I'm-'

'No! It's fine, I...I think it's even more shitty that you would be so vulnerable with him and he just spat on it. You deserve to be loved and cherished...and a Daddy to take care of you however you need. I...well I would have taken care of you...he doesn't deserve you.' He could see how red your cheeks had become now and he thought it was adorable. 'You can stop if you want. I have plenty of first aid stuff at home, you don't need to-'

'I want to. You deserve someone to take care of you too...I'm almost done anyway. You'll need someone to check on you, you might have a concussion.' Klaus shrugged at that.

'I've had plenty, if I was going to die it probably would have happened by now.' He joked but you did not look entertained.

'I'll do it. Come on, we can hang out and get something to eat. I'm starving.' His eyes widened and he wasn't quite sure how to react. His plan was to go home and jerk off until his balls were surely empty but now Y/n wants to spend time with him? Fuck Yes!

'Yeah...okay. Sure, we can go to my house if you want? The basement is my room but it's so big I made an entertainment center, we can grab some food and...hang out?' Klaus had never 'hung out' with anyone other than his siblings but he was ecstatic at the thought of the girl he is most assuredly in love with being in his room.

'That sounds like fun! Come on.'

Part 2

Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist

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l3visthighs · 4 months

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beautiful amazing spectacular showstopping wonderful awesome talented magnificent incredible totally unique never been done before jaw dropping majestic splendid heavenly gorgeous stunning fabulous perfect brilliant never the same excellent extraordinary phenomenal breathtaking 🥰

#captain levi #levi ackerman #leviackerman #attack on titan #levi #love of my liiiiiiiiife

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aleksanderscult · 6 months

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Favorite Darklina fanarts

Since I've already posted about my favorite Darkling fanarts, I thought I could do the same with the Darklina fanarts.

So here they are! My favorite Darklina fanarts made by immensely talented people (with credit of course).

Enjoy our babies 🖤💛

(Credits to @linaartss)

Their first awkward kiss 🫶

The artist did an amazing job and I especially love the way the light reflects on them.

(also the way he holds her face🫠)

(Credit to RinaMintaArt on DeviantArt)

“The problem with wanting”, he whispered, “is that it makes us weak.”

Love his expression, the colors (Alina's black kefta😏) and Alina's headpiece.

(Credits to @morgana0anagrom)

“Why won’t you leave me alone?” I whispered one night as he hovered behind me while I tried to work at my desk.

Long minutes passed. I didn’t think he would answer. I even had time to hope he might have gone, until I felt his hand on my shoulder.

“Then I’d be alone, too,” he said, and he stayed the whole night through.

Another favorite. The Darkling looks gorgeous and Alina stunning.

(Credits to @bxromanceart)

This one is just perfect. I've been looking at it for five hours now. This Aleksander is one of the few that looks exactly as I pictured him in my head. And Alina too!

The hands. The clothes. The calm and loving expression on his features. The way he puts the crown to her head. Perfection. 🤌🏻

(Credits to RinaMintaArt on DeviantArt)

In an AU we would have a dark Alina but oh well... I guess we have this piece at least. The way their powers blend. The halos behind them. Light and dark. 🥹

(Credits to Monica Borg)

No one asked but I have this picture as my lock screen 😭 It's beautiful!

(Credits to @wictorianart)

“There are no others like us, Alina,” he whispered. “And there never will be.”

*screams* the way they hold hands I--

(Credits to @jaxxartbox)

Ladies and gentlemen. Them. 🛐

No 'cause imagine this depicting their wedding. *dead* It's one of my most favorite fanarts of them. Just perfection. #wecouldhavehadthisbutLeighwasacoward

(Credits to @artfleureia)

“We are alike”, he said. “As no one else is. As no one else will ever be.”

The way he leans on her hand. The way he melts from her touch.

That chapel scene was the death of many Darklina stans.

(Credit to @monolime)

“Let me. It isn't real. Let me.”

This piece will be the end of my beating heart, I swear.

(Credits to @morgana0anagrom)

“Someone to mourn me”

A depressing way to end this but also fitting. His blood on her face, him wiping her tears...

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theforgottencrow · 2 months

Text

Like quite a few people ima be making a KOSA post in case it actually happens and everything is removed.

My time on here has honestly been, the best. There have been so many times I was upset about something and came on here only to forget that sadness by seeing my friends and etc. Before this, I also thought that nobody would ever think my art was good enough or have the same interests as me, but I was wrong. so, so, Wrong.

@i-died-fr-teehee, You were my first friend on here, you’ve made me smile so many times and your art continues get better everytime I see it. Keep being silly.

@dustsansm1, I remember first seeing your stuff and thinking how awesome and funny you were with your rps and just in general. You make me laugh all the time and make me so happy in general whenever I see u in my likes or reply to my stuff.

@weirdest-worlds, you deserve all the love and kindness. You’re so kind and funny and never fail to make me smile and actually feel appreciated. Please never forget that you are loved and are worth WAY more than you think.

@systematic-err0r, We may have not known each other long but you made me giggle while talking to you during the reblog chain and it was a lovely experience that I’m glad to have had.

@floweytheflower55, Your funny and silly and make me laugh everytime I see your stuff, Your flowey art is beautiful and I have no doubt you’ll continue to get better.

@leartistickarma, Your art is SO beautiful and stunning. You’re funny and creative and I enjoyed talking with you and becoming your friend. I already know your gonna be a legendary artist on day and I can’t wait to see it.

@lazy-shapeshiofter, We may not know each other but you bring a smile to my face whenever I see your art and rambles. Your art is absolutely gorgeous and I honestly look up to you as an artist.

@chrai, You’ve been such a amazing support to me and I smile everytime I see you’ve liked my stuff because no matter what it is either it’s a stupid ramble or me trauma dumping. You’ve been there. Thank you.

@scuddle-bubble101, When I saw you follow me I literally felt my jaw drop. I never imagined I’d get such an amazing and talented artist who makes me smile to actually like my stuff. Thank you.

Thank you. All my moots, and everyone who’s liked my stuff and followed me. Without you all I’d still be considering myself a worthless nobody with mediocre skills. I’ve had the best time on here and have met some absolutely amazing people who made me feel appreciated. If KOSA really happens, I’ll never forget you all.

I hope KOSA doesn’t happen. I want to continue sharing my art and laughing with my friends. I want to meet new people and make more friends, I want to see the people I care about grow as people and artists and get to be right besides them while telling them “I told you so.” When they’ve become that talented and beautiful person I know they are.

Stop KOSA. And if we fail? Then we tried our best. I’ll never forget the experiences Ive made with you all, I truly won’t.

#end kosa

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divinemare · 7 months

Text

Legend of a Mortal Love

┊ ➶ rhys x oc

┊ ➶ part six

part five

When Ariadne mentioned Rhysand’s Solstice gift to Mor and Rhi, both females went crazy over who got to pick a dress for her.

“She doesn’t need something so exuberant,” fought Rhiannon against Morrigan’s suggestion.

“And she needs something more bright, that color is going to make her look more pale!” Now it was Morrigan’s turn to fight against her cousin’s choice of dress.

Ariadne sighed looking at both females and the dresses they held in each other’s faces. Mor had a red, gorgeous dress that had a beautiful exposed back. It was stunning, but something Ariadne could never in her life wear. She was way too thin for the back to look nice in her, even tho she had gained some small weight being here in Velaris with everything Rhiannon and Morrigan made her eat.

Rhiannon, on the other hand, had a beautiful long grayish dress that would be perfectly simply if it weren't for the cape that fell down the back that seemed to be made out of a millions tiny stars. Ariadne feared she would fall down for only the expensive weight that dress seemed to have.

“Uhm, you guys…?” Ariadne tried to speak up, but the females were now both giving their arguments as to why their dress would suit her better. “Mor? Rhi?”

When neither of them listed, she stood up with a sigh and walked towards the pile of dresses the females had left scattered in their search for what they deemed the perfect choice.

Ariadne had seen one earlier that had caught all her attention, and once she found it again, she smiled and pulled it out.

“What about this one?” She asked, showing the dress to the other two females and finally gaining their attention.

It wasn’t half as exuberant as Mor’s option, neither half as elegant as Rhiannon’s. Both females looked at each other with sweet smiles, gone were the frowns, and lowered their dresses.

“Do you like it?” Rhiannon asked, her voice toned with honey.

“I don’t know, I think it’s pretty, isn’t it?” Ariadne asked with a little nervous tone, and both females threw their dresses away without another glance.

“If you like it, then it is,” Morrigan said with an excited smile. “Come, we’ll help you get ready!”

They didn’t wait for her response as they grabbed her by the wrists and dragged her over.

༺ ♡ ༻

“I cannot believe how talented I am,” Morrigan beamed, receiving an elbow in the ribs from Rhiannon. “Ouch! Sorry, yeah, we are.”

Ariadne was out of words looking at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was in a beautiful braid with a pin in a shape of silver wings holding it together, Mor had put a little bit of makeup in her face, some khol on her eyes, tint on her cheeks and lips, and the dress…she let out a long breath when she saw it on the mirror.

Of a beautiful midnight blue, the long dress hugged her shoulders, with bubble sleeves that ended in silver cuffs on the wrists. It hugged her waist but fell to the floor at the hips, making an illusion of a shape she did not have. A transparent fabric surrounded the dress of the same color as it like a beautiful curtain of stars with the tiny sparkles in it.

It was simple, at least way more simple than anything the other two females had chosen, but Ariadne’s heart beat a little too fast at the sight of it, the air getting caught up in her throat with an enamored sigh.

“Isn’t it…too much?” Still she asked in a breathless sigh.

She had never looked this way, neither ever felt as beautiful as she did now. Because she did feel beautiful, and it was the strangest feeling ever.

“Don’t be silly! You look like a dream, and that’s all that matters,” Mor cheered, hugging her shoulders with excitement.

“You’re all set, let’s go make my brother’s life a little less immortal with your gorgeous sight.”

Her cheeks flared up, luckily the tint in them managed to hide it, and Ariadne rolled her eyes without being able to hide a smile.

Rhysand was waiting with Cassian and Azriel downstairs, the biggest Illyrian was teasing the soon-to-be-High-Lord about something, and Rhysand was looking like he was about to kick his friend back to the Illyrian Mountains.

Morrigan bursted into a laugh, and Rhiannon giggled while holding Ariadne’s arm. With their Fae ears, they surely had heard whatever Cassian had said, with her mortal ears, tho, she couldn’t hear anything but their loud laughs.

“It was about time! You ladies took ages,” Cassian got up from the couch he had been sitting on when he heard them coming down the stairs.

Azriel followed suit, then Rhysand.

“Well, not as much as Rhys, I reckon he took at least 4 hours to get ready,” Azriel spoke in his husky low, but slightly mocking voice.

Cassian again bursted a laugh, patting his brother’s shoulder in approval, while Rhys looked at both of them with knifes in his eyes before finally turning to look at Ariadne.

Right there, when he looked at her, Ariadne felt like he was doing it for the first time again. The way his eyes trailed down her body, taking in every little detail of her dress. Then going back up, settling on her face and his eyes looking at her like he was staring at the stars. Ariadne’s breath hitched at the intensity of his violet gaze, not in the way she had done before, instead holding his stare as if she could actually hold her grown in front of him.

This dress, this look, it was certainly altering some kind of alter ego in her.

“You look ravishing, Ariadne. My sister and cousin certainly do have an exquisite taste,” when Rhysand finally talked, his lips curled upwards to the side in a devilishly handsome grin.

“We didn’t picked the dress,” Mor said with a smile, looking at Ariadne with a certain excitement.

“She does have an exquisite taste, that is,” Rhiannon complimented, winking at her.

“Yes, she does,” when Rhysand’s eyes settled again on hers, Ariadne was not able to, this time, hold his intense gaze for too long. “Well, we must hurry now, we don’t want to be late.”

Rhysand offered a hand that Ariadne only took to get down from the last steps of the staircase before dropping it again, and they both left the townhouse with the whispers and giggles of the rest of the group behind them.

༺ ♡ ༻

When they got to the theatre, Ariadne’s hands were sweating with excitement, so many people lined up in the entrance, broad smiles and tickets in hand, with the most beautiful dresses and suits. Inside, the theatre was even more impressive than outside. The chandeliers that hung on the ceiling, fae lights illuminating in variety of shapes that looked like stars. The paintings on the walls portraying different plays and stories, it all seemed out of a dream, one of those she had constantly back at the Court of Nightmares.

“This is…” she didn’t had the words to explain it.

Rhysand turned to look at her, a small smile involuntarily appearing when he saw her eyes sparkle with wonder while looking all around her.

“Impressive, right?” When Ariadne looked at him, his breath got caught up in his throat, she had never looked at him like that before, without judgement, without the small hints of anger that she sometimes didn’t realize she had when looking at him.

He understood her pain, her rage, her irritation towards him, but now, her eyes show a sparkle of life he hadn’t seen in them before, the twinkles of curiosity she so often hid where now exploding without restriction, and it caused his heart to feel a little too tight in his chest.

They walked up the stairs, Ariadne couldn’t stop smiling despite herself, oblivious of the constant look of Rhysand on her.

When they got to their seats, the show was only about to start, the lights went off, and Ariadne’s heart raced with expectation and excitement. A minute later, the stage was illuminated again, and the curtains opened to let it all begin.

༺ ♡ ༻

Ariadne had cried after the show was over.

Rhysand hadn’t noticed until he heard her breathe out through the tears.

He worried at first, but then realized, when she looked at him through her teary eyes, that they weren’t tears of sadness or anger, but of pure joy and bliss.

Claps were still sounding all around them, Ariadne clapped with admiration to the performers standing in the stage bowing to the public.

He couldn’t help it, did not realize what he was doing until Ariadne went completely still. His hand had raised to clean the tears running down her cheeks, his thumb brushing her skin in a contact that felt way too intimate.

“You liked it,” he whispered with a pleased smile, and Ariadne smiled warmly, again, like she had never done with him.

“I loved it.”

The way her shoulders were so relaxed and her eyes sparkled with a life that hadn’t been there before made him wonder if he would ever see that look on her again, if she would ever look like this not only momentarily, but permanently, he wished he could say the answer could be yes, but a dreadful feeling inside of him reminded him that their system, that his Court, his world, wouldn’t allow Ariadne to keep that feeling forever, and somewhere inside him, the shame and guilt about it twisted his gut.

His smile faltered for a second, but it came back again when she unconsciously grabbed his arm to steady her excitement, looking at him as the curtains closed again.

“Let’s go,” Rhys grabbed her arm, guiding her towards the exit.

“Where?”

“To make the stars jealous of your smile.”

༺ ♡ ༻

The next day, Ariadne stared at the notebook Cassian had given her with thoughtful eyes, overthinking her next decision.

She had been thinking about this all night after the show, she just wasn’t sure yet how good of an idea it was.

“You seem troubled,” a grave voice spoke behind her, making Ariadne give a little jump. “Sorry, didn’t meant to scare you,” Cassian laughed, and she just smiled shyly.

“It’s ok.”

“What has you so thoughtful, little bird?”

The big Illyrian male had started calling her like that since he caught her humming to herself, and Ariadne had started to grow fond of the nickname.

“About this,” she raised the book in her hands while the male sat beside her, his weight making the sofa sink in a little, his wings tucked behind the armchair.

Ariadne sighed, thinking, analyzing, weighting her possibilities. They were leaving today, in a couple of hours more. This was the last chance she had to make something, to have something worthy.

“Would you help me with something?” She looked at the male with both hope and fear, and he smiled sideways in a mischievous way.

“Sing the word, little bird.”

And so she gave Cassian her notebook full of her songs, leaving it all up to him. He had promised that, once he took it to Rita, she would soon become the most famous songwriter in all Velaris.

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bbgthoma · 2 years

Text

— THEIR REACTION TO SOMEONE FLIRTING WITH YOU bungo stray dogs men x gn!reader

ft. chuuya nakahara, nikolai gogol, sigma, fyodor dostoevsky, ranpo edogawa

cw. pda, insecurities, getting flirted with while being drunk

a/n. you aren’t dating yet in any of the scenarios. (f/d) means fav dessert, (f/b) means fav beverage.

— CHUUYA NAKAHARA

chuuya never was able to tell you that he does, but he has feelings for him. he might sound like a cocky bitch, but in reality, he’s pretty insecure. he feels like he’s never good enough and that this is why everyone keeps either way betraying him or leaving him behind. he fears confessing his feelings to you fearing rejection, betrayal and abandonment.

at the very moment, you were taking a stroll together. while you had your attention focus on your own steps, chuuya was staring at you. your face is a beautiful view to him. feeling like someone was staring at you, you look up to chuuya to catch this one staring. he immediately turns red and looks away embarrassed making you chuckle. “you good chuuya?” you asked in a teasing tone. “yes” the flustered ginger replies. “mhm, alright” you reply with a smile.

all of this made you lose track of your steps as you walk on your opened shoe tie about to fall, but someone catches you before you do. you slowly blink in shock of what just happened then look up at the person who stopped you from falling. there, you make eye contacts with brown haired guy with grey eyes. he chuckles saying “falling for me?” which makes you blush. “what- no, i-” you replied in shock.

you felt someone pulling you away from the guy, so you look try to look behind yourself to see no one else than chuuya. “no because we’re dating” the ginger said giving a glare to the guy who was flirting with you. the guy blinks slowly to then open his mouth to say something but nothing could come of it. he clears his throat to then say “sorry” he says as he walks away.

“yeah you better be!” chuuya scoffs pretty pissed off. he then lets go of you rolling his eyes, then he looks at your shocked expression. “what?” he asked annoyed. “nothing, just- since when did you become my boyfriend?” you ask in total shock. the guy’s eyes widen. “fuck” he mumbles to himself turning completely. “uh… it was just an excuse for him to leave you alone…” chuuya then says awkwardly smiling.

“chuuya” you say to catch his attention. he snaps out of his thoughts and immediately looks at you. “do you have feelings for me?” you ask crossing your arms. “uh? what? i mean- you do are absolutely gorgeous, hot, funny, kind, talented, admiring, pretty, stunning and any other compliments existing in this world buttt…” he said as he makes an eye contact with you. he keeps getting the t of the word ‘but’ going feeling intimidated by your stare. it was pretty, yes, but it was also intimidating. he gives up on trying to lie and ends up saying “yes”

you chuckle at his disappointed reaction as he sighs. “chuu” you say to once again catch his attention. “i like you too” you say with a smile. “what?” he asks in shock. “i like you t-” you repeat yourself, but you get cut off by chuuya’s kiss. your eyes widened as the guy kisses you more deeply. he had to get on his tippie toes to reach you so you end up kissing back leaning over so he could lower down.

— NIKOLAI GOGOL

you are someone really smart, you can find the answers to every quiz you get asked, which is also why nikolai, as someone who loves quizzes, started getting interested in you. he loves how confident you are when he tells you that he got a new quiz for you. he doesn’t even realize it, but he gets jealous when you try feel the same way about someone defying you with a quiz.

right now, nikolai and you were at a café and you were trying to respond one of his quizzes. “this is harder than usual” you say as you put your hands together in a thinking position. “are you saying that you give up?” nikolai asks with sparkles in the eyes. “of course not” you reply amused. you re-read the question licking your lip in total concentration, when a server comes.

“your order?” this one asks. “oh” said getting your attention taken away from quiz. “mhm a (f/d) and (f/b)” you say with a smile. “i’ll take the same thing” nikolai said getting impatient. he wanted you to focus on your quiz. “noted” the server says with a smile. “oh and by the way, i love your hoodie, where did you buy it?” the server asks as nikolai licks his lip in annoyance.

“oh, my friend gave this so me so i don’t really know where. sorry” you replied with an awkward smile. “oh, it’s alright then” this one replied with a smile. “though, i love your necklace” you said with a smile getting nikolai mad. he was getting on his last nerve and was trying to remain calm. “thank you!” the server said with a smile. another server tells this one “mia, keep on with your job or boss will get mad”

“sorry mike” mia replies bowing down to him in an apologetic way. before she could leave, “my name’s (y/n) by the way!” you say with a smile. “nice to meet you (y/n)! see you in a while” she says walking away. “what a nice girl” you said with a smile as you look at nikolai.

he lets out a ‘tsk’ then says “yeah whatever, now hurry up and find the answer” he says annoyed. you slowly blink shocked of his unusual attitude. “niko” you say catching his attention. “what?” he asks impatiently. “are you jealous?” you ask amused. “what? no i’m not” he replies confused of why you would even ask this. you chuckle then say “nikolai” and he looks you annoyed.

“what’s so funny?” he asked confused and pissed off. “nothing, just the fact that you don’t realize your own emotions and feelings” you say with a smile. “what do you mean?” he asks not understanding what you’re trying to tell him. you sigh and say “lean closer” and he does as you say. he leans closer to you and you place a little kiss on his lip. his eyes widen as you back away saying “how did that make you feel?”

“is this a quiz?” he asked and you shrug. “i guess?” you reply unsure if this can be considered as a quiz. “oh. okay fine, i’ll solve it. butttt, you have to solve mine after i’m done” he replies with a smirk. “that’s what i was planning to do” you reply with a shrug. he says “so, i have to say how i felt about our lips touching?”

you chuckle at the way he describes a kiss. “yes, if you wanna put it that way” you say nodding. “mhm, so uh- it was too shor. if i’m to be honest, i think it should have had lasted longer. and i feel like there was something missing. it was so sudden that it took my breathe away for the whole time of that short kiss. for some reason, my heart started racing too. i don’t know, i never felt this way. was it fear? what could i possibly be scared of? and i also felt my cheeks heating up a little” he responded unsure of the reasoning of anything he said.

“mhm… say niko. do you know what’s love?” you asked trying to get him closer to the answer. “yeah, the feeling that people have for someone they appreciate, admire, find attractive, find fun and good to hang out with. they feel attached to them as a comfort person. and that’s all i know” he says with a shrug. “love is so complicated, i’ll never understand it” he says as he sighs. “how do you feel about me?” you ask this time. he doesn’t answer thinking of his answer as he makes a ‘o’ with his mouth.

“are you trying to say that i feelings for you?” he asks finally understanding your thoughts. “took you long enough. well. for a quiz genius” you said amused. “am i though? oh my god. i’m in love with you” he says sounding like someone who just found out they’re homosexual. you chuckle and say “love is a strong is a strong word niko, maybe you just like me” then you smile. “no no no, (y/n)” he said putting his hands on your shoulders. “i am in love with you” he says staring into your eyes.

— SIGMA

you often came to sigma’s casino and you eventually grew closer to him. you are his favorite and most appreciative guest. whenever you are losing at a game, he always tries to help you out with it so you can get better. he would even sometimes cheat as a host to make you win. before he could even realize what was going on, anyone else could tell he was simply in love with you.

at the moment, you were drinking playing a game with sigma hosting it. you were getting pretty drunk and the one you were playing against was losing. taking advantage of your drunkess, he tries to try it on you. “say, are you single?” he asks with a smirk. you hiccup saying “yep” which makes him chuckle. “someone with a pretty face like yours should be having a lover though. how about we put on a bet? if i win, we start dating” he says on a flirty tone.

before you could even answer, sigma says “i think it’s preferable to not put on bets like that with someone drunk” which makes both your attention and your adversary’s get put on sigma. “why do you care?” the blond haired asked raising his brow. “you’re just a host, so don’t go ruining bets. unless you want to date that beauty too. oh, how about we put this way, if i win, i get to win i‘m the one dating them and if…” he said but went quiet not knowing your name. “(y/n)” you reply as he nods. “and if (y/n) wins, you get to date them. how you like that?”

“i cannot acce-” sigma started but was cut off by you saying “deal”. sigma looks at you worriedly. “come on sigma, and this would help the rumors out. you know that everyone thinks you have feelings for (y/n)?” this one asked with a smirk. sigma just keeps quiet continuing along with the game. “oh depending on who gets to be the boyfriend, we get to kiss too” the blond haired adds up amused.

sigma sighs trying to remain calm as the game gets going. in a few moment it made it look like the guy was gonna win, which made sigma worried and jealous, but in the end, you end up winning. “TAKE THAT FUCKER!” you yell out of joy as you drink up the last ml of your bottle. you put it down on the table so brutally that sigma swore it was gonna break. the blond haired rolls his eyes annoyed then says “kiss (y/n), i don’t care”

sigma blushes, he forgot about the kiss part. “i guess your cute ass is my boyfriend now” you said obviously drunk as you chuckle. sigma gulp and says “y-yeah” as he stares at you approaching him. you place a soft kiss on his lips making his heart race. his cheeks burn up as he finds it hard to breathe.

— FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY

fyodor is a cocky guy, he doesn’t believe being inferior to anyone, which is why he isn’t the jealous type. if he wants something, he’ll get it and you can’t easily take if away from him. he also doesn’t show any affection or dependance to anyone, he thinks he’s better on his own. even though, these times he’s find himself getting a little to interested with you.

today was fyodor’s birthday and you bought him a gift. you were both at a park as he opening his gift. he opens it up to see a hat. “i hope you like this” you say awkwardly. he just stares at the hat quietly. “uh. it’s because like- you know. you seem very interested into your current hat, so i thought you like hats and uh…” you said trying to explain the reasoning of this gift. he takes off his hat and puts it on for you, then he grabs the one you bought for him and puts it on. he smiles and you blush at the idea of him letting you wear his hat.

fyodor lets no one wear his hat nor touch it. he is too attached to it for some reason. suddenly, someone taps your shoulder. “excuse me, is this yours?” they ask showing you a key. you touch your pockets to notice that your keys were gone. “yes, oh my god, thank you” you said sighing on relief. “no problem” the black haired girl said with smile.

“i like your necklace by the way” she says staring at your chest. “oh, thank you” you say with a smile. “no problem. my name is nina” she says with a smile. “nice to meet you nina. i’m (y/n) and this is fyodor” you say as you smile to the birthday boy. his only respond was “yeah, we’re dating” which left you in shock. “oh, well you look like a lovely couple” nina says with a bright smile. “a pretty couple. specially pretty from you” she says winking at you. “oh thank you!” you said with a smile. she looks at the time saying “gotta go! bye!” she said as she left.

“since when are we dating?” you asked confused and shocked. “since now” he said as he leaned over to kiss your lips making you blush.

— RANPO EDOGAWA

ranpo and you went to a candy shop to buy some sweets since your friend loves snacks. “ranpo, this is enough. you’ll get diabetes” you said which upset the brown haired. he pouted for a bit but ended up sighing and saying “fine”. you smile as you both walk up to the cashier to pay for the sweets.

he scanned all of the products as ranpo started looking for his pocket to pay up. while waiting, the cashier stares at you to then say “you’re the person of my dream” which makes ranpo look up at him, no longer looking for his wallet. “what?” you asked while blushing which make ranpo lick his bottom lip.

“sorry” he says shaking his head. “i meant it that way. i meant to say that i saw you in my dream” he says correcting his words. “oh, what were we doing?” you ask curiously. he stays quiet. “i…” he starts not being able to say anything else. ranpo gives him a cold glare which makes him gulp. “sorry, i even got your boyfriend mad” he says looking down.

“my boyfriend-? ranpo isn’t my boyfriend. and he isn’t ma-” you start to then shut up noticing how mad he looked. your mouth shaped into an ‘o’. ranpo pulls out his card and pays up for the sweets. he grabs the plastic bag and pulls you out of the shop along with him.

“ranpo. what was that?” you asked shocked. “nothing” he grumbled annoyed while looking down. “ranpo” you said as he looks up to you. “what?” he asks sighing. “did you get jealous?” you ask raising your brows. he stays quiet. “oh my god. you got jealous” you say amused. “(y/n), do you even know why he stood quiet? that fucking pervert dreamed about fucking you” ranpo says annoyed.

“oh. still proving my point” you say shrugging. he rolls his eyes making you chuckle. you lean over to kiss lip then get slightly away saying “don’t worry, i’m yours” which makes him turn red.

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kalims-pessimist-bestie · 2 years

Text

⚠️NSFW⚠️ Beauty and the Beast // VilxTomboyFem!Reader

CW: Red String Soulmate AU, fluff to smut

TW: some degradation, mention of crocs, umm s3x

He was the epitome of beauty, of grace, of all things gorgeous. His hair, skin, nails, everything was perfect. He is Vil Schoenheit. A very talented actor, the cameras were always on him. However, none of the photos and tabloids could show the red string tied on his finger. No one else could see it but him.

Well, and her. She had the same red string attached to her finger. He was walking through a busy shopping center, accompanied by Rook. Nothing was out of the ordinary until the other end of the string bumped straight into him.

"Hey, watch it," she spoke quite rudely to him.

"Watch your mouth," he spoke back. He was so confused why she didn't continue to argue with him, that was until he saw that she was looking intensely at his hand. And then he saw hers. In her face she was stunning, but that was where the beauty seems to end. Her hair was unstyled in the most unsavory low ponytail, and she was wearing worn out sweatpants and a hoodie. He might've been able to look past it if she hadn't chosen Crocs for her footwear as well.

"Oh fuck no. There is no way I'm spending my life attached to a pompous prick like you!" The girl desperately tried to pull the string off. It was no use.

"Well, I'm not interested in being attached to someone with such a lack of respect for yourself! You probably use 3-in-1 shampoo!"

"And so what if I do! At least I'm saving money instead of wasting hundreds hair masks and dumb, perfumey face stuff!"

"Well at least I don't look like I woke up in a cardboard box!"

"A t least I don't look like I cry when hair falls out in the shower!"

"That's it!" Vil grabbed the girls hand. "If we're going to be attached like this, I'm going to make sure that you look the part. You're about to be my prettiest accessory whether you like it or not."

-----

After hours of trecking from store to store, Vil and the girl finally reached a peace offering and bought her some clothes that were comfy, functional, and cute. Rook was gushing about how gorgeous "Mademoiselle Soulmate" looked in her new duds.

"This is exhausting, can we get some pizza or something?" Vil was appalled at the question.

"And ruin your diet day one? Absolutely not."

"You know you're not the boss of me, we're attached but I can still move freely without you."

"There's no way I am letting you eat mall garbage for food. You're coming back with me and I will make us a healthy dinner instead."

"Geez at least ask me out before you take me on a date. Do you even know my name?"

"Rook?" Vil called for his companion.

"Her name is Y/N L/N. From _____. Right/Left hand dominant."

"Thank you, Rook. Alright then Y/N. Let's go on a date where I make you good food." She wanted to complain, but she just stood there flabbergasted, wondering how Rook figured that out.

-----

Back at Vil's house, Y/N met his other roommate, Epel. The two got along super well. He was pretty, but he was an absolute gremlin. He made quite the scene during dinner.

"Vil, why can't you make us real food?" he whined.

"Complaining isn't pretty, Epel."

"Alright, but guess what is." Epel smirked and then let out on of the loudest belches she had ever heard. Vil's face went pale and he looked to you like he was about to apologize.

"Good one, lemme try!" and she followed suit, topping Epel's by a long shot. The color returned to Vil's face, but only out of anger.

"You two must learn some table manners! That was horrendous and I will never cook for you again if you don't stop this."

"Okay." Epel and Y/N looked at each other, then began to compete for who could burp louder. Vil was bursting at the seams.

-----

"You are absolutely the most frustrating people I've ever had to deal with!" Vil had escorted Y/N to a guest room after dinner, then began to scold, lecture, and yell at her. "You are beautiful! Your skin is flawless, you have a very nice body under all those baggy clothes, I'm sure. Even your hair is gorgeous! Why won't you take care of yourself?!"

"I just don't see a need to. I'm comfy and content." She began to walk closer to the tall man. "But next time you wanna ask me out and compliment me, do it without insulting my constant being."

"You are incredibly frustrating," he cupped her face with his soft hands. "You're almost perfect, and you're stuck as my red-stringed soulmate. I just want you to look as perfect as you are." He leaned down and kissed her, both of their eyes fluttered closed as they melted into a frustrated kiss.

"This doesn't mean I'm happy about this arrangement," she pulled back briefly to speak, but immediately went back into the kiss. Vil began to walk her back into a wall, never breaking apart. He was enveloped by the taste of her.

"Jump." He said it so sternly. It was a command and she jumped right away, into his arms as they continued to makeout passionately. The muffled moans escaping her mouth turned Vil on more and more. Their bodies began to lightly grind against each other's. He carried Y/N over to the bed and laid her down. He wrapped his finger around the hem of her shorts.

"May I?" he looked at her with a gentle kindness she hadn't seen all day.

"Of course." He immediately began to remove her clothes, tossing them to the side. His hands danced along her skin, making her shiver. His hands played with her breasts as his face made its way down to your panties. He placed a small kiss on the fabric before stripping the underwear away. His hands unclasped her bra and his hands came down to your thighs. With a light squeeze, he spread her legs apart and placed feather-light kisses on her region. The small moans escaping her lips were like music to Vil's ears. She placed her hands in his hair as encouragement and he began to lick at her clit. It must've felt lovely by the way she began to pull his hair a little bit. Her hips bucked up into his face and he began dipping his tongue into her. He had to hold her thighs to keep her from squirming all over the place. The moans she let out began to get louder and louder. Vil didn't care if his roommates heard. He wanted to hear all of her.

"Turn around. I want you to bend over for me," he commanded when he was satisfied with his work down below. She did as he said, whimpering at the lack of feeling in her. He grabbed her ponytail harshly. "It's okay, love, I'll make sure to let you finish."

"I didn't know I needed your permission," she said smugly. That smug smile was wiped from her face with one harsh pull to the hair. Vil let go to undress himself. He always thought he was the most perfect person in the world, but with how you looked right now, ass in the air, begging waiting for him? You were for sure the most fair of them all.

"I don't want you back talking me, alright?" He said as he positioned himself outside of Y/N, his tip just lightly grazing the hole.

"Then hurry up and fuck me, Vil!" She shouted. She was so desperate for him. He slapped her on the ass and thrusted in slowly.

"Mind your manners, whore." He began to thrust in and out of her, the pace quickening with every noise she made. He spanked her again and went back to holding her by the ponytail. His thrusts became aggressive and hard, and his cock hit every spot inside of her. He was fucking her like a common slut, and she loved every second of it. One of his hands reached down and began fingering her sensitive clit, adding more and more sensation. She was being fucked silly, her tongue hanging out with no control.

"You'll cum when I say you can, alright?" he commanded her. He pulled hard on her ponytail and the thrusts started getting sloppy. Her moans had become screams with delight as she was holding onto her orgasm. Vil's breaths were less controlled and he moaned as he released everything into her.

"You've been good, so cum for me sweetheart." Those words released a violent orgasm. She squirmed underneath him unable to compose herself as she fell to the mattress below her.

"I'm probably going to need a bath, Vil. My legs are sore."

"Can you say please?"

"Go fuck yourself, then me again later."

-----

taglist:

@stygianoir

#twst #twst wonderland #disney twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #vil x reader #twst vil #twst vil schoenheit #twst smut

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w-izxrdwheezes · 1 year

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𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐘 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒.

iwaizumi hajime x fem! reader

a story in which two second choices choose one another.

part one of six. link to part [two] here

originally posted on wattpad [ 4 parts have been posted as of now! ]

HE WAS GORGEOUS, everyone thought it. tooru oikawa was absolutely stunning; though nobody could acutely pinpoint the reason for his attractiveness. it was common knowledge however, he was practically perfect.

you were attracted to his determination, something that could be seen as a major flaw for tooru oikawa. and yet you saw beauty within the way he held himself — he knew he wasn't born with spectacular skills nor gifts, but he was at least determined enough to to fight for them.

and in the eyes of people who hadn't known him since childhood, tooru oikawa was undoubtedly flawless, perfecting the skills he had and pruning them to be the best they could be — he did this in order to appeal, he wanted to appear pristine, his talent natural; however, this did result in him becoming somewhat of a people pleaser.

and of course, aside from his spectacular social skills and his wondrous abilities on the court. the boy wasn't far from being perfect when it came to his physical attributes either. he was charming and seemingly flawless when it came to his attractiveness — many even deemed him to be the most attractive guy in the school! you didn't disagree in the slightest.

you — along with your twin sister shiraishi — had lived on the same street as tooru oikawa and his best friend iwaizumi hajime, since childhood; you'd been in love with him since you were six years old.

most people would just tell you to get over him at this point, to be in love with someone for over ten years and never once having there be a hint of romance between the two of you? it wasn't exactly practical.. but you couldn't help but fall more and more in love with the boy as the years went on. your feelings, despite lingering throughout the years, remained secret to those around you

though that was mainly due to the belief of him being far out of your league, along with the fact that he only saw you as a sister. so instead of confessing, you remained secretly pining for his affections, too ashamed to face his rejection than to try your luck. god you wished you were more his type..

————————

"LETS TAKE A BREAK BEFORE THE SECOND SET!" the loud voice of the team coach hollers, the boys all crowding round as you and your sister hand off their water bottles, the team members voicing their gratitude breathlessly.

grinning as you slink over towards your two sweaty best friends, "you two look hot" hanamaki and matsukawa both snicker at your words, taking the cold water bottles from your hands eagerly. "don't we always?" matsukawa teases, sending you a quick wink before gulping down his water, makki humming in agreement — too busy drinking to give a proper response.

you laugh at them, swatting matsukawa's shoulder lightly before turning away to grab some more bottles, your eyes catching onto oikawa who was currently bouncing on his toes — obviously trying to stay in the zone.

you're about to walk over to him before you notice your sister doing the same, though she doesn't disrupt him, merely placing the bottle of water on the floor beside him, oikawa noticing the gesture and smiling graciously; god he was pretty when he smiled.

seeing how all the members now had water bottles you move back over to the bench, falling onto it gracelessly with a tired yawn, the coach snapping you out of your oikawa focused trance "when are you going to apply to become a proper manager (y/n)?" he asks, chuckling as you give a half assed shrug "i dunno coach, i'm good with how things are now! plus there's a lot less responsibility" you tease, sending him a mischievous grin as he shakes his head humorously.

"you know we can't keep marking you down as a manager if you're not actually going to become one." he chastises, though he wasn't being very stern about it, merely letting you know that you won't always be able to tag along with them if you don't properly fill the role as co-manager. "yeah yeah, i know." you wave him off with a laugh, almost falling off the bench from fright when your sister suddenly appears in-front of you.

you stare up at her in bewilderment, a hand on your heart as she glares down at you jokingly, her hands on her hips as she waves a finger at you "i hope you're not giving the coach any trouble (y/n)! it's nice enough of him to let you tag along so much!" she mock scowls, earning a snicker from you as the coach chuckles along with you, patting your sister on the shoulder in reassurance "don't you worry shiraishi, she keeps me young." he jokes, to which you stick out your tongue teasingly — your sister hitting you on the shoulder lightly in response.

"still, she should remember her manners" you raise your hands in surrender at her scolding, sending the coach a quick bow in thanks for his generosity, the man waving you off with a laugh as he turns towards the team.

you tune his words of advice out, instead turning your attention back onto oikawa, watching as he breathes in deeply, still bouncing on his toes as he shakes his hands out, he was trying hard to stay concentrated — though it was only a small practice match; how odd.

you were quick to realise why he was so dedicated to this match though, right after the coaches speech was over and the players began moving back to the court, oikawa stopped, turning to point directly towards your sister with a cocky grin — one you could only dream was directed towards you — your sister raising a brow at his sudden confidence.

"shira! if we win this next set, go on a date with me, alright?" the gym goes quiet at his announcement, a few hollers and 'ooh's' from the other players filling the silence as your sister tries to repress a smile "you better win then tooru" she teases, the boy of your dreams sending her a wink as his teammates cheer at him "that was so cheesy!" makki jeers, oikawa whining as he makes his way back onto the court, iwa huffing as the brunette goes to him for protection, your sister laughing as he shoves him away.

you sat there watching as the match went on in a daze — for once praying that they wouldn't win. but of course, when oikawa really sets his mind to it, he usually gets whatever the hell he wants, you would know; it's one of the reasons you grew so attracted to him after all..

you try to tear your gaze away from the cheering team, their grins wide as they congratulate the other team on a good game; none of their grins quite as wide as oikawa's.

it wasn't until matsukawa snapped you out of your trance that you realise the other team had left and that the coach had finished with his congratulatory speech, the members going off to clean up the gym "jesus you look more dead than my goddamn grandma, n that's saying something" he snickers, waving a hand infront of your face as you blink your eyes back into focus, your eyebrows furrowing at the boys words.

"your grandma's alive though? we saw her last week at the market" you say in confusion, matsukawa chortling, shaking his head as he gives you a look of utter bewilderment "are you sure you're okay? you're always going on about how you're certain it's her last few days everytime we see the damn woman!" you shake your head again, rubbing your temples with a sheepish grin, an amused chuckle falling past your lips as he stares down at you "jesus, sorry, m' just tired" you laugh, your dark haired friend giving you a quick once over in concern as you try to wave him off

"i'm fine matsu, don't worry about me! i'm just worn out is all" you hum, matsukawa helping you up as hanamaki approaches the two of you with an amused grin "strange thing to say for someone who spends most of their time on their arse!" cackling as he slaps your back lightly, you glare at the light haired boy, sticking your tongue out lazily — too preoccupied with your thoughts to give a proper response.

matsukawa notices this, giving you another worried glance as he steadies you once again, hanamaki also noticing your worn out expression and quickly mirroring matsukawa's worried stare. "she good?" he asks, matsukawa shrugging as you scoff "i am literally right here dimwits, n' no i haven't suddenly turned deaf incase you were wondering" you laugh quietly, shoving the two boys away from you as you move to tidy up the bench and all the discarded bottles, the task a welcome distraction.

yet you find your eyes wandering over to where your sister and oikawa were stood laughing together, their hands intertwined as they spoke.

you wish you were as perfect as she was.

drowning out hanamaki's and matsukawa's voices from behind you, you carry on picking up the empty water bottles, eyes trained on their laughing figures as you move round, not noticing iwazumi's distracted figure that was beginning to approach you — his eyes also focused onto the perfect looking couple in the corner of the gym, both of you stumbling back as you knock into one another.

you let out a groan as you fall onto your ass, iwaizumi quickly snapping out of his state of confusion and helping you up with a gruff "sorry" you ignore the gesture, sending him a half assed smile as you murmur words of assurance "it's cool, my bad anyway" humming as you stare off at the couple — you don't notice iwaizumi copying your actions, the both of you standing there for a second as the two of you watch on in envy.

"you good (y/n)? iwa?" both of you stumble away from eachother, not noticing the short distance between the both of you as hanamaki snaps the both of you out of your dazes "quite a fall you took there (y/n), you good?" matsukawa pipes up, the first years watching on in mild interest as you bow in apology "sorry! i'm good, just tired. you know me, another late night cramming in my work" laughing tiredly as you grin up at your two concerned friends, you briefly notice iwaizumi stalk off elsewhere.

the two of you had never really had any proper interactions with one another, always having oikawa or your sister there by your sides to snatch your attentions away, it was strange really, knowing him since childhood and yet barely speaking any words other than brief greetings and such; you didn't dwell on it for too long.

"if you say so, well we're gonna get going, i'll take those out to the trash on my way out, you get some good rest tonight okay?" matsukawa smiles, you sigh gratefully, squeezing his hand as you pass off the small rubbish bag "you're the best, thank you!" you grin, turning your attention back onto your twin and crush of ten+ years, hanamaki watching as the brunette flushes at your praise, snickering as he stumbles out a response of some sort, the jumble of words falling on deaf ears.

deciding that the exchange was going nowhere else, hanamaki finally decides to pull the flushed brunette from your grasp, giving you a quick bump with his elbow as he shouts out his goodbye to the gym, the few remaining members who were packing up their stuff giving the two third years their own farewells.

you smile at the two, waving as they leave through the doors, making your way over towards the lockers to grab your own belongings, wishing the last few members safe journeys home as they left.

now it was just you, your sister and oikawa..

"(y/n)! hey! me and oikawa are going to head into town for a bit, so i hope it's okay if you walk back yourself tonight?" shiraishi asks, grinning excitably as you take in a breath of air — who were you to ruin this for them? if your sister made oikawa happy and he the same for her, then you had no right to get in the way of that.

"of course, i'll see you at home, have fun you two! do everything i wouldn't!" grinning teasingly, you laugh as your sister shoves your shoulder lightly, oikawa chuckling at your words as the three of you make your way out of the gym, oikawa locking the gym doors behind him as you chatter with your sister half-heartedly "i'm gonna wait around a bit okay? i'll catch ya later" you shrug, pointing to a pack of cigarettes you had in your pocket as your sister tuts in disappointment

"just make sure you avoid the cameras, and that coach isn't around still!" she warns, making you groan, merely shooing her away as oikawa links his arm with her own, the both of them waving to you before they walk off, your eyes trailing after them till they disappeared out of sight.

making your way up to the outdoor banister you sigh, shuffling through your bag in hopes to find your lighter, almost jumping out of your skin when you hear a light sniffle ahead of you. peeping your head round, you catch sight of iwazumi's slouched form, your brows creasing in concern as you catch onto his shaking shoulders — you may not have spoken to the guy much, but you've been with him most of your life and never once have you seen him cry.

awkwardly shuffling round the corner, you slightly crawl over to him, the drag of your bag on the metal flooring catching his attention immediately, his head whipping round to you in shock, quickly trying to wipe his tears away in what seemed to be shame.

reaching up to him you grab onto his sleeve, stopping him from wiping away the tears that were running down his cheeks "it's okay, i didn't mean to disturb ya, so don't start bottling stuff up just cuz i'm here" you murmur, his dark eyes locked onto you as you take a seat beside him, head lolling back to lean against the banisters outer door.

iwaizumi is silent, his sniffles decreasing as he stares at you in slight bewilderment, you didn't blame him really, but now it was just gonna be a bit awkward — you didn't really think this one through..

you resort to lighting up a blunt you had made earlier in the day, taking a long drag before offering some to the male beside you "you want a hit?" grinning as he blinks at you, his mouth quirking up in slight amusement, taking the blunt from your hand and taking a few drags himself "thanks.." he murmurs, handing it back to you as you take another hit "what're you doing up here anyway?" he asks, your eyes falling onto him from where you sat.

"same as you i suppose, i came up here to cry." puffing out the smoke in little rings you sigh, the smoke rings dissipating in the air "that and obviously, no cameras" you chuckle, gesturing to the blunt as you pass it back to him, his understanding hum being your only response as he copies your previous actions, large smoke rings floating in the air before drifting with the wind.

you wave your hand infront of you to try and kill them out some more, turning to look at the boy beside you "didn't expect you to be a stoner by the way" you hum, iwaizumi chuckling at your words, shaking his head as he coughs lightly "i'm not really, ive just done it to destress with makki and matsu a few times" he explains, making you let out a small 'ahh' in understanding.

"why'd you need to cry?" he suddenly pipes up, the both of you staring up at the sky as you take a long drag, puffing it out lazily "could ask you the same" you merely shrug, iwa snorting at your reply; his head leaning against the wall tiredly.

shaking his head with a humourless laugh he goes on "the girl i'm in love with likes somebody else" sighing as his head lulls towards you, he elbows you slightly, obviously hinting for you to tell him your reasoning too. "guess we're in the same boat huh?" you chuckle, raising your brows in amusement, taking another drag before going on "i love oikawa.." you didn't need to continue for him to understand.

he stares at you for a moment, shaking his head when you offer him the last of the blunt "didn't expect him to be your type" is all he says, making you snort "me neither, but hey, least you're fine! my sisters everyone's type" you tease, making the boy turn to you suddenly in surprise "i never said it was her" he points out, causing you to shake your head with a laugh, putting out the blunt as you smile "you didn't have to, it's kind of obvious from the way you were acting earlier. not like i'm one to talk" you mutter, iwa nodding his head as you both fall back into a comfortable silence.

he watches as you dig through your bag once again, looking for some gum. "matsukawa likes you y'know?" he suddenly says, making you turn to him in slight bewilderment, shaking your head in denial "no way! me and him are just friends" you wave him off snickering, iwa eyeing you up from where he sat "does he know that?"

you stiffen at the question, never really thinking much into the way matsukawa acted around you. you, him and makki had been friends since first year! but there were signs, obvious ones at that — ones you had deliberately tried to avoid; you didn't want to hurt your friend..

you shrug as you relax against the wall once again, popping some gum into your palm and offering him some as well, the dark haired boy accepting gratefully. "does it matter? i cant like him like that, would be cool if i could though, stoner sex rocks" you joke, iwa snorting at your words, not doubting you as you snicker along with him.

"how long have you loved him?" he questions, eyes watching you as you smile sadly "around 11 years.." sighing as you lull your head back towards him, smiling as his eyes soften in what seems like pity "he's an idiot" you laugh at this, agreeing with his words half heartedly "yeah, i think that's kind of the appeal for me honestly"

iwa snorts, nodding his head in some sort of understanding "to each their own i guess" he jokes sadly, eyes moving back up to the stars as you ask him the same, he merely shrugs, brows furrowing as he thinks "not as long as you started loving that dumbass, i think i started liking her in our second year at kitagawa first." you hum at this, thinking back to the middle school the four of you had all attended together; things were simpler then.

"jesus christ, what a tragic love square the both of us have forced our way into huh?" you joke, iwa snorting humourlessly at your words, eyes closing as he puts his head between his knees for a moment. "we're just some background characters aren't we? here to spice up the lives of the love interests" you go on, the male lifting his head up as he stares straight ahead

"we're second best.." he says, your eyes closing as you hum in glum agreement "damn this sucks" he mutters, hand coming up to cover his eyes in agitation, though you move it away from his face, instead intertwining it with your own, iwaizumi surprisingly not shying away from the affectionate hold.

"hey, why don't we become therapy friends of some sort?" you offer, grinning in excitement, iwaizumi staring at you with furrowed brows, his small mutter of 'huh?' making you laugh "like we'll talk to one another when we're sad? you're a chill guy, i don't know why we haven't talked much in the past" you reason, iwa humming as he takes in your words — not being used to having someone act as an emotional support net of sorts, he agrees. "fine, but i'm not going to help you out when you're crying over those fictional shows i always hear you talking about" he mutters

scoffing as you hit his chest slightly, you chuckle "they are more than just shows i'll have you know, they're art." he snorts at your words, rolling his eyes jokingly as his thumb moves along your knuckles softly, your hands still intertwined. "whatever, but we should get going. your parents'll probably be wondering where you are" he reasons, to which you scoff, letting out a small 'oomph' as he helps heave you up "i doubt it, but the sentiment is nice. thanks for that" grinning as he shoves you away slightly, quickly grabbing your bag as he starts making his way down the steps. "oi wait up would ya? your amazingly sculpted legs are much quicker than mine!" you call out, iwa groaning as he stops at the bottom of the steps

"i think i'm already starting to realise why we've never really interacted" he jokes, rolling his eyes as you let out an over exaggerated gasp "so rude, i thought we were meant to be therapy friends!" you whine, making him chuckle "just cmon, let's get going"

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#iwaizumi fluff #hq iwaizumi #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi fanfic #iwaizumi drabble #haikyuu iwaizumi #iwaizumi imagine #iwaizumi x y/n #iwaizumi angst #i dont know how to use this site

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meidnightrain · 4 months

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rolling , pulling my hair, slapping myself, barking, dressing up as a maid, acting like an animal, jumping, screaming, kicking my feet. beautiful, amazing, spectacular, show-stopping, wonderful, awesome, talented, magnificent, incredible, totally unique, never been done before, jaw dropping, majestic, splendid, heavenly, gorgeous, stunning, fabulous, perfect, brilliant, never the same, excellent, extraordinary, phenomenal, breathtaking, foams at mouth. jaw drops to floor, eyes pop out of sockets accompanied by trumpets, heart beats out of chest, awooga awooga sound effect, pulls chain on train whistle that has appeared next to head as steam blows out, slams fists on table, rattling any plates, bowls or silverware, whistles loudly, fireworks shoot from top of head, pants loudly as tongue hangs out of mouth, wipes comically large bead of sweat from forehead, clears throat, straightens tie, combs hair ahem, you look very lovely.

#🗑️ - off the clock #came back to post this and dipping to finish my scara fic

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mrsalwayswrite · 1 year

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Lady of the Loch (Jamie Fraser x OC) Part 2

Summary: An old family folktale thrived amongst the Frasers of Lallybroch about a mythical being that lived in the small, secluded loch near their home. Most claimed it was just a story, while a rare few claimed to have seen her. But for Jamie Fraser, she became so much more.

Here's part 2! Hope you enjoy! Also moodboards are mine and all pics from Pinterest.

Words: 4800

Series warnings: canon divergence, all the Fraser family is alive, Claire doesn't exist, mild sexual content, magic themes, Greek mythology, pining, fluffy goodness

Here's Part 1 to catch up!

Jamie walked towards the loch, forcing himself to take each measured step instead of breaking out into a sprint like he wished to.

It had been three long years since he was away. While he spent a portion at Castle Leoch, the majority was spent in France with his uncle there, furthering his education and learning the business trade. He was grateful to have been mentored but when the opportunity arose for him to return him, he jumped on it without remorse or a second thought. Lallybroch was where his heart remained and his family there.

And only to himself would he admit the need to see her again.

He had been back for a few days but this was the first time he had been able to sneak away from under his family's excited gaze.

At twenty now, there was no question that he was a man grown. He stood taller than most men and while he may not be as wide and bulky as some Highlanders, he was by no means scrawny either. His skill with a sword and pistol had grown exponentially to where he was considered quite talented in both.

And while his body had matured into a strong, able-bodied man, it was his mind which had changed the most. He was more educated, more knowledgeable, yet with that, experience had taught him far more than books ever could. A stain upon his soul was never far from his thoughts. The men he had killed in combat had bled out what last naivety still lingered in his blood. The corruption he had seen. The abuse and torment people endured under the care of those supposed to take care of them. How easy it was for the strong to overpower the weak and steal from them.

Jamie promised himself, he would never. Perhaps it was a romanticized view of himself, but he swore to defend those who needed it.

Yet as he walked, growing closer and closer to the loch, to the place he had spent so much time, he could not help the worries and doubts that plagued him. It had been three years since they last said their farewells. Three years since she kissed his cheek. Three years since he promised to return soon.

A promise which he had broken, even if it was no fault of his own.

He approached the water, a stillness hung over the hidden place, that he could not recall before. It had always been his sanctuary, a place of peace. Now it felt like the calm before the storm. Carefully, he reached out and touched the water, stirring it with his fingers.

"Jamie?"

His head whipped up….only for his jaw to drop and his heart to lurch out of his chest.

For there she stood before him, her black hair cascading down her lithe body, those mesmerizing eyes staring at him. How beautiful she was, standing there with the faint sunlight trickling through the trees, how glorious and devastatingly perfect. Her beauty hit him anew. Had she always been so stunning? He thought in all the time he had been away, he could remember how gorgeous she was, but seeing her now, it was as if he had only remembered a hazy dream version of her and now the true, authentic person stood before him….his memory could not hold a candle to the dazzling creature she was.

"Jamie? Is it truly you?"

He stood up, even while his legs felt a bit shaky. "Aye. I promised I'd return to ye."

In the next moment, her warm body slammed into his chest, knocking the breath out of him and almost knocking them to the ground. Yet his arms instinctively banded around her, drawing her closer to him, just as hers did the same. He found himself placing his lips against the top of her head, whispering reassurances to her in Gaelic.

And with her in his arms, it felt like a missing piece was slotted back into place in his heart.

"You returned."

"Aye, I promised ye, lass. Did ye doubt me?"

"No….I thought you had forgotten about me."

"Never." He growled. "I could ne'er forget aboot ye. I'd sooner forget my name and my clan than ever lose my memories of ye."

In response, her arms tightened around him and she buried her face against his chest.

"I canna stay long. My Da will come looking for me. But tomorrow, I promise ye, tomorrow I'll return, aye? I'll stay wi' ye the whole night."

"Truly?"

"Aye." As he spoke, the plan formulated in his mind. "I'll sneak away once everyone is asleep, then I'll return before dawn. They'll no' ken."

He could sense the hesitation in her, unsure if the concern was for himself or for her. Boldly, he cupped her cheek, forcing her gaze to meet his. For a long moment, he was lost there, trapped in her eyes that were the most exotic and beguiling thing he had ever seen. Mentally shaking himself, he stroked her cheek with his thumb and almost lost it once again with the realization of how soft and smooth her skin was. The urge to touch her fair skin with his lips overwhelmed him.

He cleared his throat before speaking, needing the distraction. "It'll be safe. Ye trust me?"

"Yes."

That word undid him. To see the absolute trust in her eyes, with no form of guile or hesitation. To know she truly believed in him, even after all these years.

Before he could overthink it, he gave into the desire, the siren's call. He placed his lips against her brow, lingering there. With that simple, reassurancing action, he wondered if he had made a mistake. For with the touch, his body rebelled at the idea of drawing away, of leaving her embrace, of removing himself from her touch, of separating from her moonlight skin and the intoxication that she was. He had heard and seen men driven to do unimaginable things, all for the love and need of drink, 'an addiction' as his educated mind supplanted. In the back of his mind, he wondered if this simple, chaste kiss to her brow would be his own.

*****

Long after the sun disappeared beyond the horizon the next day, he returned. A blanket was rolled up under his arm, along with a half-full bottle of whiskey he had pilfered from his father's stash, and some bannocks left over from supper.

To his surprise, the small loch was not as dark as he had come to expect. Under the moonlight, the water seemed to faintly glow, casting a cool light around the water's edge.

Looking around, he did not spy her anywhere. "Lass?" He called out, frustrated he still did not know her name.

With no response, concern slipped under his skin, but he tried to pay it no mind. She would come. She had to. Ears straining for any little sound of her, he tried to focus on setting up the blanket and offerings on the ground. In the back of his mind, he could not help but think how this could look like he was preparing for a picnic with the lass he was courting. The image crossed his mind before he could completely push it away or over-analyze it.

"Jamie."

He spun around quickly, heat flooding his face at the thought of courting and picnics and then hearing his name. At the sight before him, the heat swiftly slithered down his face to coil tightly in his gut, answering the summoning of his cock which had abruptly awoken.

Could he ever get used to her astounding beauty? Standing there in the moonlight, she glowed, even more so than the water around her ankles. The sweet smile directed straight at him, eyes alight with joy, made his stomach flip and his heart pound ceaselessly. Ah Dhia. She was radiant.

Her smile further grew, an almost bashfulness to it, as she tucked her dark hair behind her ear.

Realization slammed into him that he had been standing there gaping at her for an obscenely long time. He coughed, clearing his throat then rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassment replacing the prior heat that had settled in his belly. "Hello, sorry, ye just…"

She laughed and Jamie swore his heart skipped a beat at the sound.

"What is this?" She asked once she drew to his side, eyeing the blanket and offerings. The coy smile never left her face.

"Ah," his cheeks warmed once again, embarrassment making him second guess his actions. Would he ever not embarrass himself around her? "I reckoned this would be better….um, more comfortable, ye ken? For listening to my stories. I didna mean–"

But as he inelegantly rambled, she gracefully took a seat on the blanket, tucking her legs underneath her. "I have never reclined on a blanket before." She ran her hand over the coarse wool material, a forlorn thoughtfulness in her eyes. A look that made Jamie's heart clench and the desire to remove it overwhelming.

"Weel, it's no' the best but it'll do the job."

"Tis perfect." She looked at him demurely. "Shall you share of your adventures now?"

And he did.

They spent the next few hours talking while sharing the blanket along with the food and drink. Jamie told her everything he could remember about Castle Leoch- the stables he worked in and the horses there, about training with the sword under his Uncle Dougal's unwavering eye, about the castle grounds and the wee bit of mischief he caused there. He spoke more of France- of the boat trip there that made him terribly ill, about the books he studied, about his uncle Jared and his wine business, how Jamie helped out some and learned even more. He spoke of the friends he made and the people he disliked. He even confessed to sharing a few kisses with a lass in France, although both knew it would not lead to anything more.

All the while, she listened ardently. Her gaze was locked on him, soaking in every word he spoke. A few times she asked questions and always laughed when he shared particularly humorous stories. Yet even as the moon rose higher, her attention never strayed from him.

It was a heady sensation, to be the sole focus of this stunning woman. Jamie lapped up her attention, silently realizing the true extent of how much he missed her during his time away. She was more than just a friend, but also a confidante, someone he shared a special connection with.

At the end of his tale, they laid on the blanket facing one another, the whiskey bottle empty and the food gone. Jamie was unable to tear his gaze away from her. During the later part of his story, their fingers had become entangled in the space between them. His other hand propped up his head, mirroring her, but his body was hyper aware of her touch, of his thumb rubbing along the kitten-soft skin on the inside of her wrist. His head buzzed and he was uncertain if it was due to the whiskey or her. Now with only the sounds of the forest around them, a tension built up between them, slowly growing thicker and thicker like a fog. In that tension was the desire to scoot closer and kiss her….and with the way she was looking back at him, he thought she may want him too.

"You experienced quite an adventure."

He hummed in response, his mind still absorbed in the idea of pressing his lips against hers and never needing to breathe anything other than her for the rest of his life.

"What holds your future now?"

"I dinna ken." He huffed, shifting his gaze to the star-studded sky. "My uncle wishes for my return to France. My family wants more for me and I…" He trailed off as he scrubbed a hand over his face. A squeeze of their linked hands had him turning back to look at her. "I dinnae wish tae leave again."

"You shall know how to respond when Fate knocks on the door of your future."

"Did ye?"

"Fate chose for me." She whispered after a long pause. "And I find these past several years have not been as….lonely."

That quiet admission stroked his ego but also further fed his self-made commitment to not leave her alone.

A sudden idea came to mind that caused him to smile brightly and jump up to his feet with all the grace of a hyper puppy. He stood at the end of the blanket, the smile never leaving his countenance even as she stared at him with a blend of confusion and hints of concern. Bending at the waist, he gave a courtly bow that sent her into giggles. Then he held out his hand towards her. "My lady, may I have this dance?"

A streak of shock shot across her upturned face. "I do not know how."

"I'll teach ye." He leaned forward a little and dropped his voice conspiracingly. "Dinna fash, it's only us. There's no one to judge."

"Well, my lord, how could I refuse?"

She slipped her hand in his, letting him help guide her to her feet and off the blanket. With soft words of encouragement and placing her hands in the proper places, Jamie slowly led her in a court dance he had learned in France. The movements were slow but their bodies were close. That intoxication he experienced anytime he touched her hit him anew. His mind swung on a pendulum, on one hand trying to be the patient teacher and instruct her in the steps, while on the other hand he was struggling to not melt into a puddle at her feet. The joy radiating from her was overwhelming, her laughter and smile brighter than any star in the heavens. It warmed his heart that she found such delight in a simple dance with him yet broke his heart wondering how long she had been alone and desiring friendship.

Soon enough she managed the easy steps and the two fell into a natural rhythm, their bodies seemingly knowing what to do without conscious thought.

"I ken what ye are." He whispered suddenly as he stared into the cosmos of her eyes.

During his regular studies, he had a tutor who used Greek mythology and readings in his class. He had only been paying minimal attention, for his mind was lost to numbers and logs for his uncle's wine business, when the tutor began to share a story of beautiful young women, minor goddesses of nature, who were usually tied to a specific location or deity. At this, Jamie found his attention riveted on his tutor. Then when the young man began asking specific questions of the mythical beings, more and more pieces began to fall into place in his mind. He spent the rest of the day claiming sick to his uncle and pacing the floor of his bedroom, wrestling with the new information. By the end of the day, he was weary but had come to the conclusion nothing had actually changed. He had always known she was something more, something ethereal. This only confirmed it.

"What am I?" She asked, meeting his gaze unashamed. But behind it all, he could see the tendril of fear lying there, waiting to curl around her like a snake and squeeze the life from her.

His feet planted to the ground, halting their dancing. Carefully, he raised a hand to caress her cheek, instinctively knowing it would comfort her as he answered. "A nymph."

A shudder overtook her, her hands shifting to grasp the front of his shirt as if to steady herself, before she seemed to gain control over herself again. Never removing her eyes from him, she leaned her cheek further into his palm. "Does that frighten you?"

"No…." He continued to hold her gaze, meeting those eyes that threatened to overtake him. "But I dinna ken yer name. Ye promised….before I left. Ye said ye would tell me when I returned to ye."

The smile that grew on her face caused any and all artistic masterpieces to pale in comparison to her exquisite beauty. "Ianassa. My name is Ianassa."

He repeated it, the name dancing on his tongue like the finest of whiskeys, a sharp burn to gain his attention then warming him all throughout his body.

In the next moment, he was uncertain who moved first or if they both felt the undeniable bond between them. For within the next heartbeat, their arms were wrapped around the other in an embrace while their lips came together with the gentleness of a feather and the fury of a thunderstorm.

As his lips caressed hers, what memory he carried of any prior kisses burned away to ash. None could compare to the feel of her lips against his, of her mouth opening to his own and tongues stroking and dancing, of the wholeness having her in his arms, how it seared into the very marrow of his bones, how it felt perfect. The kiss was more than just a pressing of lips. No, it seemed that with the joining of their mouths, it opened his soul to her, for her to slide in and wrap around his heart like a creeping vine. For them to stake a claim on one another that none could ever deny.

And as the kiss progressed, it turned from innocent to something distinctly hungry.

He could not recall moving or guiding his feet along. All he could focus on was her. All his senses were attuned to were the breathy sounds she released into his mouth, of her hands clutching him like she needed him closer, of how thin her dress was and how it still felt like an impenetrable barrier. She had finally overwhelmed him, and he only craved more.

Next thing he knew, he hovered over her as she laid on the blanket facing him. Her hands were tangled in his hair, refusing to let him distance himself further. One of his legs was nestled between her own. Yet it was those mesmerizing blue orbs that stole the breath from his lungs. Those eyes that drew him in effortlessly. They were the darkest shade of blue possible with the pupil blown wide. A flush hinted on her pale cheeks and her lips were plump and glistening.

"I choose you, James Alexander Malcom MacKenzie Fraser." She spoke in a reverent hush, the words floating in the air to wrap around him like a warm blanket. "What is your wish?"

This time it was his turn to shudder at her words. For he knew what she was offering and the power she was giving him. But as he gazed down at her, there was no fear in her eyes, no restraint. All he could see was affection and trust directed at him…and he realized that was his undoing. More than her beauty or kindness. She looked at him as someone worthy of her.

"I want ye." He confessed as he left a trail of kisses along her alluring jawline. "I always have…and not for this night but ev'ry night. Always."

"Then I am yours."

With that burning whisper, any composure Jamie still possessed shattered into oblivion.

His lips attacked hers in a frenzy, equally met with her own ardent passion. Their clothing was haphazardly ripped off or just pushed to the side as the need for contact possessed them. When they joined, a hiss of pure pleasure ripped from his throat even as molten heat swept through his body like a firestorm. Their union was quick and messy, both on the edge of ecstasy before they even realized it. But Jamie could swear he saw the stars and galaxies in her eyes, could feel the connection to the very land as they both jumped the cliff simultaneously. It was only the chanting of his name in his ear and her nails like little claws in his back that kept him tethered to her and their world.

Blissfully spent yet more alive than he ever felt before, he rolled onto his back, eyes closed as his lungs fought to regain air.

"Ah Dhia. Is it always like that?"

At her chuckle, he realized he had accidently spoken his thoughts aloud. What potential embarrassment was dashed away when she rolled to her side, placing her arm on his chest as she gazed down at him.

"I hope so."

"Aye, me too."

She brushed a wild curl away from his face before leaning forward and kissing him again. It felt sated and gentle, just an unhurried, soft pressing of mouths. A feeling he wanted to sink into and wallow in.

He was unsure how long they lazily kissed and caressed for before she slowly pulled away. On instinct, he chased her mouth, not quite ready to lose that blissful connection.

She giggled, pressing a single finger to his needy lips. "Do you trust me?"

"Aye." He answered immediately, without a second thought.

Her answering smile could outshine the sun. It dazzled him enough that he did not notice until she had stood up fully. Moving carefully, she walked the few steps to the edge of the water. With eyes locked on him, she pushed on the neckline of her dress, shimmying the white fabric off her shoulders to catch on her breasts. He stared transfixed as little by little her body was revealed, like a present slowly being unwrapped or a wedding veil reverently lifted to display the bride. This moment felt holy. Even nature itself hushed at the display of perfection. When they had coupled, Jamie had barely paid attention to her body - a clear oversight on his part. There had been an unnatural drive to connect with her, to bind, to become complete inside of her lithe body. He had caught glimpses of her creamy thighs and hips as he pushed her dress up before plunging into her wet heat. But this…

For when her dress lay at her ankles, soaking in the water, Jamie damn near swallowed his tongue.

She had always had a glow about her, something that proved her otherness, but now, she appeared radiant, outshining even the moon above them.

"Come." She said, holding her hand out to him.

Once again unable to refuse, nor did he truly want to, he rose, undoing his belt and allowing his tartan to pool at his feet. He yanked his shirt over his head, dropping it at his feet.

For a second, he wondered if he should feel some sort of shame, standing before her naked as the day he was born. Yet there was none. For there she stood in her natural splendor, without shame or attempts to cover her own nakedness. Thinking about what they had been doing only minutes ago ceased any embarrassing thoughts. If anything, he found himself yearning to touch her more.

Silently, he stepped closer, taking her outstretched hand. With fingers intertwined, he followed her deeper into the water like she was his own North Star. With eyes locked on him, she walked backwards further into the water, further into her domain.

Finally, she stopped as the water hit his knees. With a playful tug, she guided him to sit down. Curious and unashamedly aroused, he followed her guidance to sit on the ground. The water reached his ribs, almost tickling him as it swirled around him. Without preamble, she crawled onto his lap to straddle him. His hands clasped onto her hips, a groan almost escaping him at the sensation of her body above him and her soft skin against his.

Carding a hand through his hair, she whispered, "close your eyes, young one."

He narrowed his eyes momentarily at her before following her command, all the while grumbling under his breath about how he was 'no a wee bairn'.

She giggled, placing a fleeting, torturous peck on his lips. "Open."

He opened his eyes, uncertain but trusting. What he saw made his jaw drop and eyes widened. The sight that greeted him was almost as astounding as her beauty. The water swirled and glowed even more, even the trees and bushes were a lit with a cool warmth that made them shine. The very air seemed to twinkle under the star-studded sky. The small, secluded loch he was used to appeared transformed. Somehow still the same yet more. It felt like magic danced in the air and what veil covered the place had been lifted.

"What–"

"Tis my home. Or as I see it."

He blinked owlishly, head whipping around to try and take it all in before returning to the true beauty of the loch.

"Thank ya, Ianassa. Truly."

"No, thank you Jamie. For everything."

This time he initiated the kiss. The slow press of his lips against hers. Tracing her lips with his tongue. Enticing her mouth and tongue to dance with his. In that moment, he drank from her mouth, he worshiped her like the goddess she was. Pouring out all his affection and adoration upon her like a poor devotee, hoping to earn the attention of his goddess. His hands trailed over her body, caressing, touching, coaxing, and he knew it would never be enough. He would never have enough of her.

His tongue traced her collarbone, a liquid fire pouring into his veins at the sigh it elicited from her.

"Do you trust me?" She whispered into his ear, tugging on his earlobe with her teeth.

"Aye." He answered amongst a choked sound, hands squeezing her hips. Uncertain if it was in a warning or permission to continue.

"Give into the water, allow it to consume you."

Before he could ask of her strange words, she guided him into herself, sheathing him fully in a fluid motion. A ragged groan fell from his mouth at the sensation. How could it feel even more exquisite, more perfect than before. Her lips landed on his, nipping and sucking, almost moving in tandem with her rocking hips. Amongst that, she leaned into him, guiding him backwards, the water rising higher and higher around him. Without fear, he leaned back, fully submitting himself to her. With her lips still attached to his, the water finally covered them. Instead of panic filling him, all he could feel was pleasure, pleasure, pleasure.

And he wholeheartedly gave in. He did not fight it as the water filled his lungs and his body sank beneath the water. For her hands were upon him the whole time, lips and body never stopping their ministrations. Driving him deeper into the water that seemed endless and deeper into her, into a bliss that threatened to rip him apart.

And within the blink of an eye, he suddenly understood what it meant to be consumed.

*****

The next morning Jenny and Ian came down to the loch looking for Jamie.

The family had found it odd he was not down from his room for breakfast. Then when Jenny was sent to check on Jamie and make sure he was not sick in bed, she discovered the bed empty and blankets unrumpled. Clearly no one had slept in that bed. Ian arrived to help Jamie out in the fields with Brian as agreed upon prior. Instead Ian headed towards the loch with Jenny offering to help look for her 'flea-brained' brother. Everyone knew how often Jamie spent time there.

But instead of finding Jamie asleep like they expected, they discovered what looked like a picnic laid out on the shore. A spare blanket spread out with an empty bottle of whiskey and crumbs. Beside that, they found his clothing and boots in a haphazard pile. The most perplexing find was a white dress, caught on some rocks in the water's edge.

Nowhere was there a sign of him nor the owner of the strange dress.

Nor would they ever be found again.

As the years passed and stories were told from one generation to the next, a new one arose. How sometimes the sound of laughter could be heard from the loch if you listened hard enough. The angelic sound of a woman and the deeper voice of a man. And it was said that if you were truly lucky, if you crept close to the loch on the night of a full moon, you might even catch a glimpse of a couple standing in the shallows of the loch dancing under the moonlight, the woman with hair dark as the night above and the man with hair like fire.

But one part of the story never wavered as the years passed. How those that inhabited Lallybroch always claimed to have a protector that lived in the small loch nearby.

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