#;;🖤 TURN AROUND MY HEART [ic] | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dark-moonlust · 6 months ago

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Caught Between the Fae

This is a Patreon commission I finished yesterday. The commissioner chose to remain anonymous. I hope you enjoy this small story! It was so enjoyable to write and it's super steamy, too! I love every part of it 🖤

Pairing: 2 fae males (Nestor, Quin) x f!human (Layla)

Summary: Layla is a photographer in her mid-30s. During her exhibition event, two fae males, Nestor and Quinn, are drawn to one of her paintings and her beauty. They recognize her as their mate and quarrel over who will get Layla and her artwork. Finally, they decide to share her as she belongs to them both. They claim her as their mate and go into a mating rage, driving deep inside her and marking her with their cum.

Warnings: minors don’t interact, 18+!!, fingering, oral(female+male receiving), kinky talk, a little bondage, big 🍆, fae magic to fit, p in v sex, anal, double penetratiοn, lots of 💦.

Tonight was her big night.

Layla took yet another deep breath and strolled through the art gallery. Her heart thundered with excitement and a little fear. That night, her photography was the star of the show. All her pieces were there for all to see and judge. She truly hoped the people would admire and grasp the feelings and meanings behind each photo. Her work was her pride and joy.

As she walked the sleek gallery, the room was a whirl of positive reviews and the clinking of champagne glasses. The people liked her work! Feeling her anxiety lessen, she smiled, soaking in the energy as she mingled with the guests. She let herself enjoy the vibes, her soft curvy frame moving gracefully through the crowd, her fiery red hair catching the light, making her green eyes gleam with pride.

Taking a short break, she stood near the center of the room and tried to calm her raging heart. The gallery was a big hit and a dream come true! She still couldn’t believe it. She wanted to jump and laugh out of joy. As she scanned the faces of the audience, her gaze stopped on two striking men in front of her favorite piece: a photo of a moonlit beach at night. They were boldly gazing at her piece and then her way.

A jolt traveled through her. Their gazes practically saw through her.

Tall and towering, they were both, with pointy ears and supernatural auras exuding such intense power that caused her whole body to come alive and warm up as if licked by fire.

They were fae... what otherwordly beauty.

The one on the left had close-cropped blonde hair, deep purple eyes, and although he wore a sleek black suit, she could see his neck and hands, which were filled with tattoos that surely filled the rest of his body. The other male beside him was all dark and sensual mischief. He had long, curly, dark hair and ice-blue eyes that sparkled with a devil-may-care attitude.

They were attracting the eyes of everyone in the room; their presence electrifying.

From across the room, Nestor, the King of the Court of Nightmares, stood in front of Layla’s photo, his deep purple eyes drawn to every detail of the mounted piece. The gallery lights cast the perfect light, illuminating the moonlight beach. His fingers tightened around his glass as he swirled the dark liquid inside. Beside him, Quinn admired the same photo, his ice-blue eyes attracted to the art and the artist herself. He was the Emperor of the Court of Chaos.

“Stunning,” Nestor murmured in a low mumble, scanning the room, his gaze finding Layla and staying on her. “They shall be mine. Both the piece and the artist.”

Quinn chuckled, his eyes equally intent on the female. “You wish. You don’t have what it takes to appreciate them both.”

“And you do?” Nestor’s voice was higher than usual, turning heads. “Thinking too high of yourself, aren’t you?”

“This art piece belongs in my court, and little fireheart in my bed.”

“Fireheart…” Nestor whispered, his eyes tracing the fire-colored hair of his mate, the soft and curvy frame he hungered to have exposed beneath him. “I’ll never let you have them. She’s my fated one and the Queen of the Court of Nightmares.”

Quinn’s laugh was light and mocking. “I’ll bid whatever the hell you want. She’s my mate, the Empress of Chaos Court. She will be mine.”

“You? I don’t think so. I want her and that piece, and I’ll have them,” Nestor stated, his voice hard with authority. “You’d better wet your dick elsewhere.”

Quinn’s lips curled at his words. “I’ll wet my dick inside her, in every warm little place inside her.” The Emperor of Chaos stared at his mate, their gazes meeting and holding. She was gorgeous. In every way. Her red hair cascaded in soft waves over her shoulders, and her green eyes sparkled with passion. He wanted her. He’d never back down.

“She is mine.” Nestor’s eyes flicked to the other fae. “The moment I saw her, I knew she was my fated one.”

“And you think I didn’t feel the same?” Quinn spat back, with a hint of annoyance. Long moments passed before he added, “Perhaps there’s a reason we both recognize her so strongly.”

Nestor narrowed his eyes at him. “What are you implying?”

“Fate doesn’t make mistakes,” Quinn answered. “She belongs to both of us.”

“This makes sense…” Nestor trailed off, clearly considering the proposal.

Quinn chuckled warmly. “Finally, we agree on something. So, what do we do about it?”

“We claim her. Every part of her.”

It was that moment when Layla decided to approach them. She closed in on them, and they immediately framed her luscious body with their possessive, towering bodies on both sides. Layla felt hot all over, her frame shivering from the intensity of their aura and their mere height. The dynamic between the two fae made her belly clench with arousal and for a few seconds she felt such an intense magnetic pull towards them that she could barely contain it.

“Gentlemen… I am Layla, the artist behind these photographs. I’m honored by your interest, and I couldn’t help but notice your tension… is there a problem?”

“Good evening, Layla,” Nestor greeted with a sultry drawl. “I am Nestor, King of the Court of Nightmares. Your work is extraordinary, I must have it.”

Quinn grinned and stepped closer to her, his ice-blue eyes twinkling with amusement. “I am Quinn, Emperor of the Court of Chaos. Our problem is that we both desire this piece of art, though not as much as we desire you.”

Nestor shifted closer to her right side, his scent enveloping her. “You should visit my court, Layla, and be the crown jewel of my kingdom. Choose me, fireheart.”

“Fireheart?” Layla muttered, a little taken by the nickname and the intensity in his eyes.

Quinn hummed and let his towering form nearly envelop her left side. “We feel a connection to you, little one. A bond that cannot be ignored.”

Layla didn’t know whether to laugh or blush at their bold statements. The gallery suddenly buzzed with whispers and speculations as all eyes turned toward the three of them. Both fae males had surrounded her, and her cheeks felt hot, as did the rest of her body. Her pussy was also wet, aching with a need she couldn’t barely ignore. They weren’t just interested in her art—they wanted her.

She took a deep breath, her heart pounding.

How could she refuse the King of Nightmares and Emperor of Chos without offending them?

“Gentlemen,” she finally said, her voice wavering, “I’m afraid the artist—meaning myself—is not available for such… arrangement. However, the art piece is. I am sure we can find a way to resolve this without—”

“Without what?” Nestor’s eyes darkened. “Without accepting the connection you are feeling?"

Layla opened her mouth to reply, but Quinn cut her off. “Don’t deny it, fireheart. You feel it too. The mating bond, the desire.”

Layla bit her lip and unconsciously rubbed her thighs together. Liquid warmth pooled in her core. “I… I don’t think this is appropriate.”

“Yet your pussy is wet and aching for us,” Quinn whispered against her ear, his breath warm. “And it’s not going away unless we take care of you.”

“Accept us, little mate,” Nestor said, sending shivers down her spine. “We can feel your need. You want us. Both.“

“I—I…” Layla stuttered wordlessly, her eyes flicking between the two fae. She felt such longing and undeniable attraction for them. But how could she just give in?

“You are ours, fireheart. Ours to claim in ways neither of us could do alone,” Quinn nodded, his ice-blue eyes intense.

“B-b-both of you…” Layla muttered, her body tightening pleasurably at the mere thought of those two fae belonging to her.

“Hmm,” both men growled, their eyes caressing her face and red hair.

Layla nodded slowly, listening to her heart which was screaming for them. Immediately, Fae magic surrounded her, stealing her breath away. The gallery blurred and melted away, replaced by a lavish bedroom filled with rich fabrics and flickering candles. Nestor and Quinn embraced her from both sides, their hands exploring her heated body.

Nestor scented her neck, his fingers tangling in her loose hair as if he couldn’t have enough of her. Quinn kissed her shoulders over the straps of her dress, each lingering touch leaving trails of delightful warmth and heat. When their gazes locked on hers, she felt hypnotized by the mating bond between them. It was real; they belonged to her, and she ached with need, desperate to be touched by them.

“Yes, fireheart,” Quinn rasped, sliding down the straps of her dress. “You are our mate, and you will be filled by us both.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Nestor said, unzipping the back of her dress, his fingers warm against her skin. “Do you agree, sweetheart? Do you want this?”

“Hmmm… I want you,” Layla breathed, adrenaline pumping in her heart.

Quinn’s hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing over her lower lip. “Good girl,” he murmured, his icy eyes bearing into her emerald ones. They were enchanting, hypnotizing. “Now, let us show you what it means to be ours.”

Layla didn’t realize how quickly they scooped her up and propped her on the plush bed. They divested her of her clothing skillfully. Quinn peeled away her dress while Nestor unclasped her bra, moaning low as her breasts spilled free. He cupped them in his big palms and pushed them up to his hot mouth, suckling each pouting nipple. Quinn knelt at her half-closed thighs and gently removed her panties and shoes. Seeing how she hesitated once she was fully exposed to them, Quinn’s long fingers trailed down her belly, then lower, teasing the sensitive skin between her thighs.

“Open for us, little one,” Quinn said, his voice a seductive promise. “We’re going to fuck you deep, make you feel so good.”

Layla shyly opened her legs and suddenly both men were between them, each one securing a leg over their muscular thighs, their hands making sure she was fully open to their eyes. Using their magic, they removed their clothes, leaving her to gape at the two fae males, so big and powerful—in every way.

Nestor had a sculpted body covered in tattoos. His eyes were warm and inviting, his stomach taut, his thighs firm and in between... his cock stood proud, looking utterly inhumane. It was thick and very long, pulsing, its length surrounded by protruding veins. Quinn was no less captivating. He was just as tall, his stance emphasizing the force of his thighs and the raw power of his well-muscled body. His eyes swirled with blue ice as he pumped his rigid cock. It was deliciously curved and textured with ridges, a little thicker than Nestor’s but not as long.

Having both of them… Layla felt the dark desire, the intensity overflowing. The need. The craving. She wanted them. Wanted them more than anything in her life.

“Fuuuuck, our mate’s even more beautiful than I imagined,” Nestor growled. She looked so pretty and tiny in contrast to their raging bodies. Flushed face, nipples out, pussy exposed. He wanted to debauch her.

“Show us your pretty cunt, fireheart,” Quinn demanded softly. “Open those pretty lips nicely for your mates.”

Dazed by desire, Layla reached down and did as told. She opened her outer folds with two fingers, showing off her slit and the bud of her clit. Both men growled ferociously and stared for a few seconds.

“That’s it,” Nestor growled, bending to lick a thick stripe up her pussy. “So wet already for your mates.”

Layla gasped, all sane thoughts fleeing.

Quinn also leaned down to taste her pussy, kissing her throbbing clit. She saw stars.

“She is ready for her mates,” Quinn said with a smirk. “You’re going to take every inch of us, aren’t you, fireheart?”

Layla whimpered, her voice and body trembling. “Yes… Please…”

The two males smiled.

Nestor toyed with her pussy lips and Quinn rubbed her needy clit. Layla whimpered and struggled to arch off the bed. She squirmed restlessly, but their hold on her thighs was too secure, allowing no movement as their fingers probed and rubbed her pussy to their liking. She melted under their touch, her heart pulsing with the intensity of their bond.

“Such a sweet wet cunt," Quinn marveled, gathering her slick and rolling it between two fingers.

“Love your nipples, sweetheart,” Nestor drawled, moving to suckle one tit then the other, his tongue swirling around the hardened buds.

“Pl… ease,” she sighed, her body feverish with need. “Need you. Need you so much it hurts!”

"Hurts?“ Quinn said in a mischievous tone as he rubbed her clit round and round while thrusting a thick finger inside her. Layla cried out and Nestor claimed her lips, swallowing her moans.

“Hurts so good, hm, sweetheart?” Nestor drawled as their lips brushed, their tongues mating.

“Yesss, please, more please… hmnnn...”

No sooner had she said that than Quinn was tasting her mouth, kissing her possessively and deeply. His tongue licked into her mouth then his tongue danced with hers.

“What do you need, fireheart?”

Oh, how she adored the way they called her nicknames. She wanted to be theirs forever and get lost in their warmth and affection.

“Want you so much. I’m so empty…”

“Our mate needs to be filled,” Nestor said to the other fae. “But first she will cum for us.”

Quinn agreed in a low chuckle and finger-fucked her while Nestor pressed his thumb against her clit, rubbing over and over. Driving her higher and higher until she exploded, bliss and pleasure overtaking her until she couldn’t think or talk. Layla quivered and while she rode her orgasm, Nestor suckled her lower lip. Quinn moved to her breasts, his mouth nursing her aching nipples. Captive in their hold, she arched into their touch, drawn-out moans escaping her.

She was still dizzy from her orgasm when they shifted. Nestor sneaked between her thighs, slapping his heavy cock against her glistening pussy. The sound was wet and squelching, her pussy fluttering with the need to be filled. Quinn kneeled next to her head, his cock pulsing in the air, the tip leaking precum. Layla licked her lips, hungry to taste him.

“Open,” Quinn commanded softly, “wet my dick, mate.”

Layla obeyed, her lips parting to take him in. Smiling mischievously, Quinn thrust his hips gently, his leaking cock stretching her mouth wide and filling it up. At the same time, Nestor entered her pussy, his girth spreading her cunt and filling her up inch by delectable inch.

“Mhppphhh!” Layla gasped and gurgled around the cock in her mouth, her pussy filled to the limit by Nestor. Quinn gripped her fiery hair, guiding her head to keep sucking him. She was so full… Quinn’s shaft kissed her throat while Nestor’s cock kissed her cervix.

“That’s it… fuck, you’re perfect,” Nestor groaned, watching her pussy suck him in.

“Is it good, fireheart? Being fucked from both ends?” Quinn pulled his cock out of her mouth with a wet pop, his cock coated in her saliva.

“Hmnn! Want more!”

With a proud moan, Quinn shoved his cock back into her hot mouth, going deeper and fucking down her throat. Nestor watched the lewd sight with pride. Their pretty mate struggled a little, but she took Quinn’s cock like the queen she was, hollowing her cheeks and clenching her pretty throat. She stroked his balls, cradling them in her small hands, her eyes rolling back with each thrust from both of them.

Groaning, Nestor pounded deep into her cunt, making her pretty tits bounce with each sharp thrust. He kneaded her mounds, his thumbs pinching her nipples, causing her to gag and whimper around a mouthful of cock, her breathing heavy. Gods, she was so pretty like this, trapped between them, their cocks spearing her back and forth.

A few calculated thrusts, and she came explosively, her body shuddering. Once she rode the waves of pleasure, the fae changed positions again, with Nestor fucking her mouth and Quinn taking her pussy. The dual sensations were overwhelming, liquid pleasure coursing through her veins as they filled her relentlessly. The room echoed with the rhythmic slaps of skin against skin and her muffled moans as she took fae cock.

“Such a good mate for us,” Quinn said with pride. Her lips were swollen, her pussy drenched with her release. “Now it’s time to take our seed, hm?”

“Hmp, yes… want your cum,” Layla said in a seductive purr.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” Nestor drawled. “Ready to take us both in your soaked cunt and tight little ass?“

“Hmm, gonna take you both,” Layla nodded, seeing the pride and desire on their handsome faces. “Need to feel you inside me.”

In a flurry of motion, they repositioned themselves so that Layla was straddling Nestor, her raw breasts rubbing against his muscled chest. Quinn kneeled behind her, his strong hands spreading her asscheeks, his thumbs teasing around the tight, puckered hole. Such a cute little hole. Layla whimpered when Nestor gripped her hips and guided her down onto his throbbing dick while Quinn thrust a magically lubed finger into her ass.

Layla groaned, desperation and desire in her green eyes.

Quinn kissed her spine. “Relax your pretty asshole and take my fingers, fireheart.”

Layla clutched Nestor’s shoulders and tried to relax while Quinn squeezed a second oiled finger into her ass, the thick intrusions making her gasp and shut her eyes tightly. The combination of Nestor filling her pussy and Quinn’s fingers in her ass was strange. She felt exposed, vulnerable, and utterly at their mercy.

“So damn tight," Nestor muttered against her moaning lips, his shaft buried in the heat of her cunt.

Quinn added a third finger in her ass, pumped, and curled them inside her before replacing them with the head of his cock. The broad head spread her tight hole, forcing its way inside. Layla trembled at the dual invasion— they were so deep, stretching her wide around their inhuman girths. She glanced down at where they were joined, and with shock, she realized just how much more they had to go. Only a third of their shafts were inside her, and that both thrilled and scared her.

Nestor’s voice broke through her haze. “You can do this, sweetheart.”

“You’re so big…” Layla whined. She was human, could she really take them both?

“Deep breaths, mate,” Quinn advised gently. “Take a little more of us, hmm?”

“Feels strange…” Layla looked at them for guidance, her cheeks flushed, her eyes worried. She could feel their dicks rubbing inside her, and she took deep breaths that were mixed with cries of pain and pleasure.

“Let’s stroke your little clit,” Nestor murmured, his thumb stroking her bud, sending pulses of warmth all over her body. “Yesss, that feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Hmm! Moree!”

“Such a good little mate,” Nestor cooed and proved his point by pulling out of her wet cunt then slamming more inches inside.

“Our mate needed a cock up her cunt and ass so badly,” Quinn growled as he worked deeper into her ass.

“You will take us, mate. Again and again until you reek of our cum. Our magic protects you. Relax your holes,” Quinn ordered in her ear.

Blindsided by the fullness of their penetration, Layla said yes in a series of raspy moans. Their fae magic infused her fully, empowering her and building her arousal. Before long, she’d taken the full lengths of their cocks. The fullness, the heat, the stretch— she was overwhelmed but in no pain. She curled between their powerful bodies, and when they started fucking her in earnest, she cried out, her nails digging into their flesh.

“Look at you,” Nestor growled, his purple eyes dark with lust. “So beautiful riding our dicks.”

“You’re perfect like this, fireheart,” Quinn whispered, his hands fondling her asscheeks. “So tight, so hot.”

Hands grabbed and fondled her as they pounded her, their cocks owning her depths. When Nestor’s cock left her pussy, Quinn plunged into her ass. Layla tried to get more friction only to have their strong hands restrain her. Nestor grasped her tits while Quinn secured her wrists with magical silken ropes, carefully tying her arms behind her back. The silk felt like a caress, soft and slightly loose.

She didn’t complain; she only trembled between them, her watery eyes begging them to claim her.

“If this is too much for you, fireheart, say “red” and we will stop. I promise you. Understood?”

“Yesss,” Layla nodded fervently. “Now… just fuck me.”

“Easy, sweetheart,” Nestor said, his hands gripping her thighs. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Layla was too far gone to think straight. “C-can’t! Want more!”

“It’s the mating bond. She is human, and it’s affecting her. Our magic is also making everything stronger,” Nestor explained to the other fae.

“Such a needy little mate,” Quinn rasped and pressed a harsh kiss to her mouth. “Bound and begging for us.”

Nestor grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. “You think you can handle us, huh? Think you can keep up with us?”

“Hmn… I can handle it,” Layla panted as they impaled her on their stiff cocks.

Nestor chuckled from under her, his fingers pinching her nipples. “Is that so? Well, let’s see how long you can keep that attitude.”

The two males exchanged glances before they resumed pounding into her. Nestor lifted her a few inches, then lowered her back down onto his cock. Quinn thrust his hips, fucking her ass in full thrusts that reached deep into her guts. They were both too thick, too hard, and too long, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

It went on and on; their stamina seemed endless, their cocks so impossibly hard and swollen with the need to cum. The scent of desire hung heavily in the air and she came again with uncontrollable, shuddering contractions, her holes clenching hard around their massive girths. The males followed right after her, their muscled bodies shuddering, roars ringing out as she felt something burst inside her. Massive wings sprouted from their backs as their seed filled her up, loads and loads of it, forcing little aftershocks of ecstasy.

But they were far from done.

They switched places, Nestor claiming her now stretched asshole while Quinn filled up her pussy. Their wings curled around her as they slammed inside her, and Layla lost herself in the mating bond, quaking between them, her arms securely bound, her holes fluttering around their shafts. She could only whimper and utter their names, begging them to stop, then begging them to never stop and make her cum.

“Remember your safe word, mate,” Quinn reminded her roughly. “If it’s too much say "red" and we will stop.”

“Would you like us to stop fucking your naughty holes?” Nestor’s fingers curled around her nape, his hips snapping repeatedly into hers.

“Nnn—nooo!” Layla whined, her body tense as she balanced on the edge of pleasure.

Quinn growled his approval. “That’s good, fireheart, because we’re not going to.”

The bed creaked, obscene moans echoing with every move they made. Her fae mates fucked her powerfully, thrusting to the hilt again and again, deep and tirelessly. Quinn devoured her lips with his kisses, his hands cupping her tits and pinching her sore nipples. Nestor growled from behind her, his broad chest pressing against her back as he claimed her ass and flicked her clit with his thumb.

They were primal and fully affected by the need to claim her, and she loved it—she loved them and how they fucked her, it was unlike anything she had imagined.

Layla’s moans rang out when she came again, sobs of pleasure escaping her kiss-swollen mouth. She trembled as a pleasure bomb went off in her center. It was too much, but it was divine, every nerve was alight. They joined her soon after, pulsing up inside her and releasing spurt after spurt of their cum. She was already filled with them, but the second load overflowed from her, dribbling down her thighs.

Layla didn’t know for how long it went on.

They untied the silk ropes and took her again and again, lifting her off the bed, sandwiching her between their aroused bodies and feeding her their cocks in every position imaginable. Their wings flapped powerfully, and when Layla touched them, her mates went into a mating rage, driving deep inside her, claiming her, owning her.

As the sun began to rise, their frenzied mating finally came to an end.

They collapsed on the bed, the covers tattered and smeared with signs of their primitive coupling. Layla’s mates enveloped her, spooning her from front to back, their bodies entwined with hers, their cocks still hard inside her due to the suction of her cunt and ass. She was sated and exhausted, feeling a sense of belonging she had never known before.

They took turns kissing her, softly, lovingly, whispering sweet nothings while gazing at her with an impossibly soft, oh-so-soft expression on their faces. Their seed had marked her as theirs; the mate of the Nightmare and Chaos Courts.

“Who do you belong to, little mate?” Nestor asked, kissing the side of her neck.

“You,” Layla breathed. “Both of you.”

Nestor growled and gazed at her possessively. She belonged wholly to them. And they to her. She was filled to the brim with their seed, her holes stretched taut around their shafts. It was the ultimate claiming. "So beautiful. You did so well, fireheart.”

“Stunning.” Quinn brushed a few sweaty hair strands from her face and kissed her fluttering eyelashes. “You were so good for us, mate. Our beautiful Queen and Empress.”

“Yes,” Nestor agreed proudly. “We shall unite our courts and give our mate everything.”

“Hmmm,” Quinn hummed against her chest, his voice a sultry whisper against her lips. “Do you like being filled by your King and Emperor, fireheart?”

“Yes,” Layla answered, her heart brimming with affection for them. “I love it. I love you both.”

Nestor hummed from behind her, kissing her softly. “We love you more. You’re ours, sweetheart. Forever.”

That night, they’d claimed more than a masterpiece.

They’d claimed their soulmate.

#fae x reader #fae x human #fae x oc #comission #monster writer #monster writing #fae smut #fae fucker #monster boyfriend #monster lover #monster x human #monster fudger #monster fucker #monster x you #monster smut #monster x female reader #monster romance

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concreteangel92 · 2 months ago

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'Tis The Season

Noah Sebastian x female reader

18+

Warnings: bondage, shibari rope play, ice play, dom/sub relationship, praise kink, sensation play, oral (female receiving) slight edging but not much

It feels so nice to be able to get something uploaded haha I have so much of my own writing/requests to catch up on which I’m hoping to get everything finished soon! I hope you all enjoy this in the meantime 🖤

Permanent taglist: @flowery-mess @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @lacy1986 @fadingangelwisp @theanarchymuse95 @w0manof-flesh44 @dream-machine-love @thisbicc @amelia-acero @badomensls @fadingintothegrey @tosoundlessdarkistare @ichoosetenderomens @hurricanesfollowyou

Individual Tags: @leneisback @concretejunglefm @dsireland86

Let me know if you wish to be added to my permanent Noah taglist 🖤

MASTERLIST

Your body was laid bare across your shared bed, your skin being illuminated by the multicoloured Christmas lights wrapped shibari style around your chest and your arms were pulled and tied to the bed posts.

Noah had tied you up so well that your movements were extremely limited. Now normally of course, you both had proper bondage rope for an evening such as this, but tis the season after all.

You felt your chest rise and fall with the anticipation, your sight had been taken from you with the black silk mask over your eyes, but you could feel that his eyes were on you.

“You look absolutely breathtaking baby”

You heard him move around the bed, his presence feeling closer until you felt a dip on the mattress next to you and then you felt the feather light touch of his fingers across your cheek running gently down onto your neck in a gentle possessive grip.

“My very own little Christmas present”

You could feel your chest rising up and down faster as you waited for him to begin, his words going straight to your core.

“You ready to be my personal toy angel? I just love making you my little play thing, especially when you look so good being all tied up for me”

Your thighs clenched at his words, your own voice barely above a whisper as you responded.

“Yes”

You felt him move slightly and heard the sound of something clinking next to you on the bedside table, you wondered what he’d brought in but you soon realised when you felt an ice cube run across your lips gently making you part them in surprise and feeling the cool drips of water enter your mouth.

A gasp then fell from your lips as you felt the ice glide along your collarbone, causing a shiver to run through your body.

You felt Noah bring the ice down towards your chest, feeling a water trail being left in its wake. You moaned when he started to circle your nipples, instantly feeling a cold chill that seemed to warm your body up.

“You should see the colours reflected on your skin right now on the water baby, it’s beautiful, you’re so beautiful”

Your heart swelled within your chest, his praise was always next level compared to anyone you’d ever been with before.

You felt the cube glide down your stomach when he’d finished on your chest making your muscles contract under his touch, the sensation was like nothing you’d felt before. The cold cube was causing you to have goosebumps appear all over your skin and the heat to build between your legs.

“Noah…”

His name rolled off your tongue as you felt the cube go lower and you felt his body shifting so he could get a better angle.

He hummed in response but you didn’t say anything more, you were too lost in the feelings coursing through you.

The sensation of the ice running across your lower stomach caused your hips to twitch upwards and another cold shiver through your body. You knew where he was headed.

“You’re melting the ice baby, are you that worked up already?”

You felt him lean across and heard him pick up another cube.

Your body was hot, you felt so turned on and he’d barely done anything to you.

You then felt Noah spread your thighs apart gently, the anticipation causing you to tug on the lights, hearing them groan under the pressure.

“You’re a fucking masterpiece, my very own work of art, all laid out on display for me”

The next thing you felt was Noah lying down on the bed as he settled himself between your thighs and hooked one of his arms around your leg to hold you down.

“Let’s cool you down a bit yeah?”

A choked groan left your lips as you felt Noah run his tongue, with the cube, across your folds for the first time.

“Shit!”

The feeling of the cold on your hot core was beautifully contradicting. It was almost a painful feeling to have such a cold sensation down there.

Noah then placed the cube in between his fingers and was running it around your inner thighs and outer lips, his mouth ghosting feather kisses on your lower abdomen, never going exactly where you craved him the most.

“Noah please…”

He continued slowly running the cube around you, leaving water marks behind and he lifted his head up.

“Yes angel?”

You could hear the smug smirk on his face, if there was one thing he loved, it was teasing and edging you.

You gripped onto the lights around your wrists, desperately wishing you could grip onto his hair instead.

“Please….don’t tease me”

He chuckled.

“Feeling a bit desperate are we baby?”

You went to respond but the feeling of his fingers suddenly spreading your lips apart and his cold tongue entering you and drawing out your arousal slick and wet from between your folds made your head fall back against the pillows with a loud, choked out moan.

“Oh my go…”

Your words were caught in your throat as Noah was then like a starved man. He continued to eat you out mercilessly, the ice had long since melted under the warmth of his tongue and your own heat. His tongue went up to your clit and you felt his inked fingers slip inside to stroke your walls in a come hither motion, his tongue flat while he shook his head vigorously, your thighs shaking uncontrollably around him as his arms wrapped and pinned you down.

The sound of your own wetness hit your ears as his rhythm never let up, you felt your body tense beautifully before you felt yourself snap and cry out as your orgasm hit you hard, you back arching off the bed and the lights stretched from the bed posts as you pulled down on them.

As you felt your body go limp on the mattress and you tried to catch your breath, you felt Noah’s fingers slip the blindfold off your head, his cocky smile being the first thing you saw, his chin glistening sinfully under the lights.

“You still with me angel?”

You smiled.

“Just…..fancy taking these off me yet?”

You pulled on the wires gently to gesture to what you meant and you watched as Noah ran a finger across his chin, gathering your arousal before sucking it into his mouth.

“And why would I want to do that?”

You looked down at your body and admired the multicoloured glow across your skin before you looked back up at Noah.

“Time to see if you’ve been naughty or nice this year baby”

#noah sebastian #bad omens #bad omens band #bad omens cult #noah sebastian davis #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah bad omens #noah sebastian imagine #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian drabble #noah sebastian fic #concreteangel92

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trashmouth-richie · 11 months ago

Note

I feel like I’m really bad at prompts so I’m just gonna go with my “do’s” from costar today…

Stomping. Instant coffee. Cold* shower.

*“Cold” autocorrected to “come” and I almost didn’t fix it, soooo…do with that what you will.

OH MY LOVE.

hoping my slutty choices for this prompt find you well.

18+, no minors, acts of sex, yay.

**peep my little hints at 90s tv and movies—there are 4 🖤

<1k

send me a prompt from this post ! (writers block is killing me !)

Cold beads of water trickle like ice down your body. Making your already pert nipples stand at attention and harden in an instant.

Cursing the boy you’ve been best friends with since diapers, you turn the faucet off in a quickened haste— exiting the tub in an anything but graceful fashion, stubbing your toes on the way out.

“Eddie!” your shrill voice is clouded by the throbbing in your foot and the chatter in your teeth. “Did you pay the water bill?”

One job, the menace had one job— one duty for the small shared apartment, and it was to pay the water bill each month.

Wrapping yourself in a threadbare towel that had once been a swim towel for an uppity family— you stomp down to his bedroom, kicking open the door with enough rage to channel Jackie Chan.

You should have knocked. Fuck, why didn’t you knock?

Eddie was naked.

Pale-moon colored ass on display.

Thigh muscles rippled beneath dark patchwork tattoos, arms that never looked muscly suddenly flexed tight. A veiny hand wrapped tight around a black haired pony tail. Hips, his hips were— fucking, thrusting, pounding.

His mouth was slack, slick like an oil painting, head back and eyes rolled to squinted ivory surrounded with a colossal woodland of thick lashes.

Sweat coated his brow, dribbling down until it collected on his cupids bow, a salty pooled tease. His rougey lips were spit coated, sheer— glossy— begging for your tongue to taste them.

Your heart thumped loudly, heat in your core on its own tempo, hot and deep.

And then you hear it.

A whimper. Softer than silk, low, whiny, almost sweetly pathetic in its delivery from a deep space in his throat.

Your cheeks warm, cunt heated like a fire, sirens going off for extreme temperatures.

Oh—fuck.

His eyes meet yours and you hold his gaze for a second. The clouded look of a man being sucked dry took over his normal instant coffee colored irises. Glaucoma esque beauty in the dark swirls, and you wet your lips at the sight of him— at Eddie Munson— resident freak of Hawkins and your best friend.

Jesus.

Both your lips explicitly mutter words with eyes wild doe like. His going from lazy pleasure to shock. Yours were covered with your palm, the other reaching, fumbling for the door knob.

Apologizing profusely you suddenly stammer around clearing your throat and trying to leave ASAP.

The towel around your middle, the only thing keeping you decent, glides to the ground—falling gently like that fucking feather in opening scenes of Forest Gump. Practically in slow motion but still too quick for your blind shut eyes to catch it.

Fuck.

Pulling with both hands on the knob your heart races to shut the door, not registering that the towel is wedged tight between the frame, making it impossible to shut.

Shit shitshitshitshitSHIT

With a last feeble attempt of yanking your arms, the latch clicks into place and you beeline to your room with a slam of your door so hard it ricocheted off the walls, making a framed picture of you and Eddie at a Metallica concert fall to the ground, shattering the glass.

What the fuck? WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!

Your heart boomed in your ears, back stuck to the door like you were holding it up. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen Eddie naked, pretty sure your entire graduating class saw him naked on more than one occasion. But this?! This was so mouthwatering better than any other time.

Goosebumps spread across your skin at the burned image of Eddie getting head on your retinas. The two of you had never crossed those lines. Each dating, fucking around it never once crossed your mind what he would be like in the sack, or what his sack would be like in your mouth.

You’re pleased when you don’t cringe at the dirty thoughts of him— it felt like second nature, like eve seeing adam —lol okay maybe not, but still! What your mind was conjuring up was biblical.

A giggle surpasses your lips and you wipe a line of drool from the corner of your mouth. Nerves finally settling as your realization hits— who was it?

It wasn’t Sarah, you hadn’t seen her since last fall. Eddie had said she started dating Steve—his comic book “arch nemesis” but in reality another bestie, who spent most of his time wallowing on your couch about Nancy than he did actually going on dates.

Mary ended up being a virgin—preacher’s daughter, one of seven. He stopped seeing Clarissa after she wouldn’t stop over explaining every single minute detail of her day. Could it be the girl with the green leather jacket? Darla? Daria?

The horny ache in your belly soured like curdled milk.

How dare her (whoever she was!) The thought of someone other than you pulling those noises from Eddie suddenly set you on edge. Rage burned through your veins like lightning. Spidering and leeching to your skin.

The pajamas you had taken off before your shower lay in a heap on your floor and you quickly yanked them on. Muttering to yourself about every vile thing you could imagine about whoever the lucky girl was who currently had a mouthful of your roommate.

You needed to leave. The clouds of embarrassment eased overhead, colliding with the lightning making a storm brew deep beneath your surface and you be damned if you were going to let the rain fall whilst still in this apartment.

Keys in your palm you throw open your bedroom door, ready to bolt through your apartment and down to your car— destination unknown.

You nearly knock him over in your attempt to run. But you’re stopped cold by sweaty bangs, a heaving chest, and the same stupid pair of boxers that had small tears along the elastic from years of wear.

“Sweetheart…” he coaxed, voice so sugary and laced with tiny shreds of venom it could ice a wedding cake— then strike you dead.

You had seen plenty of Eddie today, your body screamed for you to leave, but your feet were stuck in the icing, waiting for the bomb to drop.

Warmth from your cheeks from your shame could keep a trailer with broken windows warm in a blizzard—your stomach flipped— dropped like lead as his next words hit like a bullet.

“We need to talk.”

part two

steve tied up

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie drabble #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson blurb #eddie blurb #eddie munson smut blurb #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst

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03jyh23 · 4 months ago

Text

🖤⌇ thuggish charm chapter one bandit(?)!; a jung wooyoung mini-series

badboy(?) wooyoung x fem!reader

│ series masterlist│ next │

│synopsis: the one where you miss your train and meet a charming... bandit?

│genre: romance

│trigger warnings: none?

│words: 4.5 k

│reminder: what you’re about to read is purely fiction, so let’s keep it separate from reality.

!minors do not interact!

│taglist: if you wish to join let me know here

— hi there, my lovely people! honestly, i have no idea what this is 😭. i got inspired by a song from one of the rappers in my country and just went with it. and now i'm just wondering if i should do something more with this story or just leave it be?

love, mon ♡

A cold evening breeze tousled your hair, plastering strands to your face. A heavy bag hung from your shoulder, filled with items that couldn't fit into the large suitcase standing beside you, your hand gripping its handle tightly. The thing was, you didn't make it to your transfer train. Despite your friends' warnings, you insisted you could grab a much-needed iced coffee in the 10 minutes before your train left. You were wrong.

The platform was dark, with only two solitary lamps casting a dim light. You cursed yourself under your breath, but there wasn't much you could do now. You'd already waited for an hour; you could've managed another before the next train arrived. You glanced at your phone, sighing heavily—it was running out of battery. It was frustrating. You'd have to wait two hours just to take a train for a little over forty minutes to reach your hometown. But you were the only one to blame. Well, at least you had your coffee and a blueberry muffin. But it wasn’t worth it, not at all. You shivered, pulling your jacket tighter around you. You glanced at the large clock hanging from the information board, hoping the minutes would pass more quickly. Of course, they didn't.

After an frustratingly long time you finally heard the train approaching, its rumble growing louder as it neared the station. You felt a mix of relief and anticipation wash over you. Finally, you'd be on your way. As the train's headlights pierced through the darkness, illuminating the platform, you gathered your belongings and prepared to board, eager to put this frustrating delay behind you.

The car you boarded was empty, so you sat down at the very end, near the window. You placed your luggage in the designated area and quickly plugged in your phone to charge as much as possible for the remaining journey.

As the train pulled into the next station, the platform gradually came into view, bathed in the harsh glow of fluorescent lights that cast long shadows across the concrete. The stark illumination revealed an almost deserted space, save for a group of eight young men clustered near the far end. Their presence immediately caught your attention, starkly contrasting the emptiness surrounding them. Each member of the group was clad entirely in black, their dark attire blending into the night behind them. As your eyes adjusted to the scene, you noticed intricate tattoos adorning their bodies and faces - some subtle, others bold and striking. Three of them were casually smoking cigarettes, the wisps of smoke curling upwards into the night air. As you observed them, one of the smokers suddenly locked eyes with you. His gaze was intense and unwavering, causing a shiver to run down your spine. Without breaking eye contact, he deliberately tossed his half-finished cigarette into a nearby bin. The action, while seemingly casual, felt loaded with meaning. Your heart plummeted, a mix of anxiety and unease settling in your stomach. The weight of his stare was palpable, even from this distance. Instinctively, you turned your head away, breaking the uncomfortable connection. Your mind raced with possibilities, none of them comforting. As the train doors hissed open, you found yourself fervently hoping that none of the group would decide to board. The thought of sharing this confined space with them filled you with a sense of apprehension that you couldn't quite shake off.

"Wooyoung-ah, just get there and get it done with, yeah?" the unexpected gentleness in the voice you’ve just heard had caught you off guard. You grabbed your phone to busy yourself with, fingers trembling slightly as you unlocked it, trying to appear nonchalant.

As you glanced up from your phone, you saw one of the young men from the group stepping onto the train. His movements were fluid and graceful, belying his intimidating appearance. The tattoos on his face seemed to dance in the flickering light of the train car. "I'll be fine, Joong. See y'all next week, yeah?" the boy called out, waving to his companions just before the train doors closed with a loud beep. Your heart rate quickened as you realized he must be Wooyoung, the one addressed earlier. His hair was black, neck-length, with a fringe styled neatly—only a few strands falling onto his forehead. You noticed a bandage right above his eyebrow, the skin around it purple with bruises. He wasn't tall, but the chunky boots and large leather jacket made him appear more imposing. The tattoos adorning his face seemed to shift and dance in the dim light of the train, adding an air of mystery to his already intimidating presence. His dark eyes scanned the train car, eventually settling on you. For a moment, your gazes locked, and you felt a mix of fear and inexplicable curiosity wash over you.

Wooyoung chose a seat a few rows ahead of you, close enough that you could observe him without being too obvious. As he settled in, you couldn't help but notice the way his shoulders relaxed slightly, as if he was shedding some of the intensity he had displayed on the platform. The train lurched forward, and you found yourself stealing glances at him, trying to reconcile the intimidating figure you'd seen on the platform with the young man now sitting quietly a few rows ahead. His presence seemed to fill the car, even in silence. Your eyes were drawn to the intricate tattoos adorning his face. The one beneath his left eye caught your attention - at first glance, it looked like the number 26, but as you studied it more closely, you realized it might be something else entirely. Your gaze drifted to his temple, where a small, delicate butterfly tattoo rested, a surprising contrast to his otherwise intimidating appearance. You tried to read the lettering above his eyebrow when he caught your eyes again. You raised your eyebrows and looked away, feeling a shudder run through your body. The intensity of his gaze was unsettling, a mix of curiosity and something you couldn't quite place. Your heart raced as you pretended to be engrossed in your phone, all too aware of his presence just a few rows ahead.

The train's rhythmic movement did little to calm your nerves as you found yourself stealing quick glances at Wooyoung again, hoping he wouldn't notice. The tattoo above his eyebrow remained a mystery, its meaning just out of reach.

Suddenly, his voice broke the silence, startling you out of your thoughts. "You know, it's not polite to stare," he said, his tone filled with amusement. His eyes met yours again, this time with a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

You felt your face flush with embarrassment, caught red-handed in your observation. "I... I'm sorry," you stammered, unsure of how to respond to his unexpected address.

Wooyoung shifted in his seat, turning to face you more directly. "Curious about the ink?" he asked, gesturing to the tattoos on his face. "Most people are. They either can't look away or can't bear to look at all." His words carried a weight that suggested he was used to both reactions. You felt your words frozen in your throat, unable to form a coherent response. The intensity of Wooyoung's gaze and the unexpected interaction left you speechless. You simply averted your eyes, focusing intently on your hands clasped tightly in your lap. You heard him chuckling softly, a sound that was both melodious and slightly unnerving. "Not much of a talker, huh?" he mused, his eyes still fixed on you. You dared to look up again, the warmth in his expression caught you off guard, softening his intimidating appearance. It was a stark contrast to the intense gaze you had encountered earlier. For a moment, you found yourself relaxing slightly, the tension in your shoulders easing just a fraction. "Are you afraid of me?" Wooyoung asked, sensing your hesitation. His voice was softer than you expected. The question hung in the air between you, heavy with implications.

You hesitated, weighing your words carefully. The initial fear you felt was still there, but it had been tempered by curiosity and the unexpected warmth in his smile. "I... I'm not sure," you admitted honestly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wooyoung leaned forward, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "That's fair," he said, his voice sultry. "But I promise, I'm much more... fun than I look." He winked, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Want to find out just how deceiving appearances can be?" His gaze locked with yours, intense and inviting, daring you to look beyond his intimidating exterior.

You blinked continuously, taken aback by his bold proposition. "E-excuse me?" you managed to stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. The sudden shift in the conversation left you flustered, unsure of how to respond to unexpected flirtation.

Wooyoung rose from his seat, his movements fluid and deliberate. As he approached, you found yourself captivated by his presence. He stood before you, and for the first time, you truly noticed the intricate details of his face. His nose and lip piercings glinted in the dim light of the train car, adding to his allure. You were struck by how handsome he was up close, his features a perfect blend of sharp angles and soft curves. Looking up at him, you felt a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

Wooyoung's eyes met yours, a hint of amusement dancing in their depths. "May I?" he asked, his voice low and smooth as he gestured towards the seat next to you. The question hung in the air, loaded with possibilities. Your heart raced as you considered your options. The intensity of Wooyoung's gaze made you feel both thrilled and uneasy. After a moment's hesitation, you nodded slightly, your curiosity overcoming your apprehension. As he settled into the seat beside you, his presence both intimidating and oddly comforting, you couldn't help but wonder what you were getting yourself into.

"My name's Wooyoung," he says, his eyes roaming your features. "And I'd hate to scare off such a beautiful girl, so answer me... are you really afraid of me? Or is it just my killer looks that's got your tongue?" You felt a rush of heat creep up your neck as Wooyoung's words washed over you. His proximity was intoxicating, the scent of leather and something distinctly masculine filling your senses. You struggled to find your voice, caught between the intimidating aura he exuded and the undeniable attraction you felt.

"I... I'm not afraid," you finally managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Just... surprised." You met his gaze, finding yourself drawn into the depth of his dark eyes.

Wooyoung's pierced lips curved into a smirk, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Surprised? By what? My charming personality or my devilishly good looks?" He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone that sent shivers down your spine.

You couldn't help but let out a nervous laugh, some of the tension dissipating. "Maybe a bit of both," you admitted, surprising yourself with your boldness.

His smirk widened into a genuine smile, transforming his face. "I like your honesty," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. "So, beautiful, since we've established you're not afraid of me, how about we make this train ride a little more... interesting?" You crossed your arms and leaned back against the window, trying to put some distance between yourself and Wooyoung. His sudden closeness and bold proposition had caught you off guard, and you needed a moment to gather your thoughts.

"Are you going to shout 'A bandit! Help!' and run away now?" he joked, but you couldn't quite shake off the feeling he'd been in this situation before. Despite his joking tone, there was an undercurrent of familiarity in his words. Gathering your courage, you decided to address the elephant in the room.

"Do people usually call you a bandit?" you asked, your voice a mix of curiosity and caution.

Wooyoung's expression shifted slightly, a flicker of something—perhaps surprise or appreciation—crossing his features. He leaned back, creating a bit more space between you, and let out a soft chuckle. "Ah, straight to the point, aren't you?" he said, his tone a blend of amusement and something more serious. "Let's just say I've heard it enough times to make jokes about it. But appearances can be deceiving, you know?" His eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw a vulnerability there that contradicted his tough exterior. "What do you think? Am I living up to the 'thug' stereotype?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of challenge.

Finally, you took a deep breath and met his eyes directly. The intensity of his gaze made you feel both nervous and intrigued. "Honestly?" you asked with hesitation, weighing your next words carefully.

"No, please lie to me!" Wooyoung joked, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a pack of chewing gum. With a swift motion, he popped one into his mouth, the minty scent wafting between you. You couldn't help but smile at his playful response, feeling some of the tension dissipate. The casual act of chewing gum somehow made him seem more approachable, and less intimidating than before.

Taking another deep breath, you decided to answer honestly. "At first glance, maybe. The tattoos, the piercings, the whole vibe... it's intimidating," you admitted, watching his reaction carefully. "But talking to you now? You seem more... complex than that. There's more to you than meets the eye, isn't there?" You surprised yourself with your boldness, but something about Wooyoung made you want to dig deeper, to understand the person behind the intimidating facade.

Wooyoung smirked, raising one of his eyebrows as he popped a bubble with the gum. "Are you a psychiatrist in the making?" he teased. You wanted to brush off his little comment, but he didn't give you time to answer. "'I'm no bandit, first I've heard of it,'" he said, putting his hands up as if he were surrendering. "You'd be shocked at how many times I've had to say that." His words carried a hint of frustration beneath the playful tone, and you found yourself wondering about the experiences that led him to make such a statement. Wooyoung leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief, "the ladies think I kill, but at home, I walk in pink slippers." He paused, letting the image sink in before continuing, "And all the grannies yell when I step out on the street." His gaze locked with yours, a mix of amusement and challenge in his expression. You couldn't help but laugh at the contrast he painted. The image of this intimidating figure in pink slippers was both absurd and oddly endearing.

"What else do you do at home?" you tease, finally relaxing into your seat, smiling warmly at the boy.

"Isn't that a very personal question?" he replies, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You raised an eyebrow, mirroring his playful expression. "Well, you did invite me to make this train ride more interesting," you countered, your confidence growing with each exchange. "Besides, I'm curious about the man behind the tattoos and pink slippers." Your eyes met his, a silent challenge in your gaze, daring him to reveal more about himself.

"As for the tattoos, I just fucking like them, that's all," Wooyoung said with a shrug. His nonchalant attitude towards his tattoos made you wonder about the stories behind each one.

You found yourself drawn to the intricate designs adorning his skin, each one likely holding a unique significance. "Do any of them have special meanings?" you asked, your curiosity piqued. Wooyoung's eyes lit up at your question, a mix of surprise and appreciation crossing his features.

"I'll save the answer to that for a second date," Wooyoung said with a wink. He nonchalantly popped another gum balloon before spitting it into the small trash bin.

You laughed softly, feeling a mix of intrigue and amusement at his flirtatious response. "A second date? Aren't we getting a bit ahead of ourselves?" you teased back, your eyes meeting his with a playful challenge. The easy banter between you two was unexpected, but not unwelcome.

Wooyoung leaned in, his voice dropping to a low, sultry tone. "Well, I consider this our first date, ever since you agreed for me to sit here," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. The boldness of his statement caught you off guard, sending a flutter through your stomach.

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks, but you couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips. "Oh really?" you replied, trying to match his confidence. "And here I thought first dates usually involved dinner or a movie, not a chance encounter on a train."

Wooyoung's grin widened, "Who says we can't be unconventional?" he countered, his gaze never leaving yours. "But if you want all of that," he continued, his voice taking on a playful, almost challenging tone, "then it's my pleasure to take you on such a... boring date without anything extraordinary to it." His eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned in slightly closer. "Though I have to warn you, even my idea of 'ordinary' might surprise you."

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on your lips. "Who says I'd even agree to go out with you in the first place?" you challenged, your tone playful but with a hint of seriousness. "You're making quite a few assumptions there, Wooyoung."

Wooyoung's eyes widened slightly, clearly not expecting your response. He leaned back, a mix of surprise and admiration crossing his features. After a moment, he let out a low chuckle. "Touché," he said, his voice tinged with respect. "I guess I got a bit ahead of myself there. My apologies." He paused, his gaze softening. "But can you blame a guy for trying? You're not exactly easy to resist."

You felt a flutter in your stomach at his words, but you maintained your composure. "Flattery will get you nowhere," you said, though you couldn't help the small smile that tugged at your lips. "But I appreciate the apology. Maybe we should start with getting to know each other a bit better before planning any dates, hmm?"

Wooyoung's eyes lit up with amusement at your suggestion. "Why waste time if we can get to know each other on the date?" he countered, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "After all, isn't that what dates are for?"

You couldn't help but laugh at his persistence. "You don't even know my name," you pointed out, shaking your head in amusement at his bold flirtation.

Wooyoung's grin widened, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone. "I don't need that to know you're the most beautiful woman I've seen," he said, his gaze never leaving yours. You felt a rush of heat creep up your neck at his words, caught between flattery and disbelief at his audacity. Despite yourself, you couldn't help but be charmed by his confidence and smooth talking.

You decided to play along with his flirtatious banter, feeling a mix of amusement and excitement. With a coy smile, you leaned in slightly and said, "I hope my beauty isn't too distracting. We wouldn't want you to miss your stop, would we?"

Wooyoung's eyes widened for a moment, clearly taken aback by your sudden boldness. Then, a slow, appreciative grin spread across his face. "Oh, darling," he drawled, his voice low and rich, "I'd gladly miss a hundred stops if it meant spending more time with you."

You couldn't help but giggle, turning your face away in embarrassment, not able to continue with the banter. You felt a warmth spreading through your chest, a mix of embarrassment and excitement at the intensity of Wooyoung's flirtation. As you turned back to face him, you caught a glimpse of something softer in his eyes, a vulnerability that seemed at odds with his bold exterior. For a moment, you allowed yourself to be caught in his gaze, feeling a strange mix of excitement and uncertainty. As the silence stretched between you, you noticed how Wooyoung started playing with his lip ring, his fingers absently toying with the small metal hoop. His eyes, which had been locked with yours, briefly dropped to your lips before meeting your gaze again. The gesture was subtle, but unmistakable, sending a small thrill through you. You found yourself wondering how that lip ring would feel against your own lips, the thought was both thrilling and intimidating. It sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of excitement and nervousness coursing through you. You couldn't deny the attraction you felt towards Wooyoung, his bold confidence and mysterious aura drawing you in. Your eyes flickered to his lips, lingering on the silver ring that adorned them. You found yourself wondering what it would be like to kiss him, to feel the cool metal against your skin. Catching yourself, you quickly averted your gaze, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. But the image remained, tantalizing and forbidden, at the edges of your mind. You tried to push the thought away, but it persisted, a silent acknowledgment of your growing desire.

Wooyoung's whispered words sent a shiver down your spine. "If there's something you want to do, you should act upon it," he murmured, leaning in closer. His head tilted slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. The intensity of his gaze made your breath catch in your throat. You felt a magnetic pull towards him, your heart racing as the space between you diminished. The air seemed to crackle with tension, and you found yourself drawn to his lips, that tantalizing lip ring catching the dim light of the train. Time seemed to slow as you hovered on the precipice of decision. Should you give in to the desire that had been building since this chance encounter began? Or was this moving too fast, too soon?

Wooyoung smiled lightly, his face so close you could feel his breath on your skin. The proximity made the lump in your throat grow, your heart racing with anticipation. His voice dropped to a low, intimate whisper as he asked, "Is it alright for me to touch you?" The question hung in the air between you, charged with tension and unspoken desire. You found yourself at a crossroads, torn between the thrill of the moment and the rational part of your mind reminding you that you'd just met. Your body seemed to lean towards him of its own accord, drawn by an inexplicable magnetism. You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. But it wasn't enough for Wooyoung. His eyes, dark and intense, bore into yours as he whispered, "I need to hear you actually say it." His voice was low, almost husky, sending a shiver down your spine. The anticipation hung thick in the air between you, every second stretching out like an eternity.

You swallowed hard, finding your voice. "Yes," you breathed, barely audible even in the quiet of the train car. "You can touch me." The words left your lips, a mix of nervousness and excitement coloring your tone. Wooyoung's eyes lit up, a slow smile spreading across his face as he leaned in even closer. Wooyoung's hand moved to your jaw, his touch gentle yet electrifying. His fingers caressed your cheek, the warmth of his skin sending shivers down your spine. Slowly, deliberately, he ran his thumb over your lower lip, the sensation causing you to tremble involuntarily. Your breath hitched, caught between anticipation and nervousness as you felt the intensity of his touch and gaze.

You closed your eyes, leaning in to close the distance between you. Your heart raced as you whispered, "You can kiss me now." The words hung in the air, charged with anticipation. You waited, breath held, for him to make his move. Wooyoung's breath hitched audibly, a soft exhale that you felt against your skin. There was a moment of stillness, the world seeming to pause around you. Then, with agonizing slowness, you felt him lean in. His lips brushed against yours, feather-light at first, testing. The cool metal of his lip ring sent a jolt through you, contrasting with the warmth of his mouth.

As if emboldened by your response, Wooyoung deepened the kiss. His hand cupped your face more firmly, fingers tangling in your hair. The kiss was a perfect blend of gentle and passionate, leaving you breathless. You could taste the hint of his earlier gum, with a hint of cigarettes. Time seemed to stand still as you lost yourself in the moment, all thoughts of the train and your surroundings fading away.

Suddenly, a jolt from the train brought you both back to reality. You pulled away slightly, your cheeks flushed and your breath coming in short gasps. Wooyoung's eyes were dark with desire as he gazed at you, a small smile playing on his lips. The moment hung between you, charged with the thrill of newfound connection.

You looked out the window, suddenly realizing with a jolt that you recognized the station passing by. "It's my stop!" you shouted, jumping to your feet in a panic. You quickly unplugged your phone, then grabbed your suitcase and bag, heart racing as you rushed towards the doors.

Wooyoung's eyes widened in surprise, caught off guard by your sudden movement. "Wait—" he started to say, but you were already halfway down the aisle.

As you reached the doors, you turned back briefly, catching a glimpse of Wooyoung's bewildered expression. A mix of regret and excitement coursed through you as the train began to slow. The doors opened with a hiss, and you stepped out onto the platform, your mind reeling from the whirlwind encounter you'd just experienced. You stood there, catching your breath as the train doors closed behind you. Your heart was still racing, not just from the rush to exit, but from the intense encounter you'd just experienced. As you watched the train pull away, you couldn't help but wonder if you'd ever see Wooyoung again, or if this magical moment would remain just that—a fleeting connection in the night.

♡│if you enjoy my writing please consider supporting me by tagging and reblogging│

#wooyoung x reader #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez x y/n #ateez au #ateez x you #jung wooyoung #wooyoung #wooyoung oneshot #wooyoung fanfic #ateez #wooyoung x y/n #wooyoung x you #ateez wooyoung

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eringobragh420 · 6 months ago

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🖤 Pairing — Roman ♥︎ Jey ♥︎ Jimmy ♥︎ f!Reader 🖤 Summary — Roman decides to bring his girlfriend's fantasy to life after she passes the bar exam. (Part 1/?) 1 | 2 | 3 🖤 Word Count — 1.6k 🛑 Warnings — NSFW. Daddy/Uncle kink, foursome, double penetration, oral sex f and m receiving, cum 18+ 🖤 Taglist — If you'd like to be added, please click here! 🖤 MASTERLIST

��Tell me what you think about.”

She paused, spoonful of ice cream a breadth from her lips. “What do you mean?”

“When I’m not here, and you wanna touch yourself … what do you think about?”

“Roman!” She elbowed him in the ribs, giggling, and then settled into his side again.

“What? I wanna know.”

“... but what if I wanna keep my dirty little secrets to myself?” She tilted her head, tapping the utensil against the flat of her tongue. Roman’s pupils burst as he watched, licking his full lips, and she’d be damned if that simple act didn’t raise her temperature, her blood pressure, her pulse.

“Just one, the hottest one,” he growled. “For me?”

Smirking, she dipped the spoon into the ice cream and fed her man a larger bite than she would have taken. She bit her bottom lip, chewing, as she watched his mouth work around the delicious dessert. “Okay,” she whispered, pressing her lips to his chilly ones. “You asked for it.”

“Honey? Baby, are you here?”

His truck was in the driveway, but he could have been off with friends. If that was the case, she’d have to wait to open the letter, and she might not survive another period of waiting. Clutching the envelope, she jogged throughout the six bedroom home, calling his name and his pet names, still receiving no response. As she passed the French doors in their bedroom that led to the balcony overlooking the swimming pool, her peripheral caught sight of movement in the water. Grinning like a fool, she threw open the doors and bounced up and down on the balcony.

“Roman!” she hollered. He turned, searching for a moment before spotting her waving from above. “It’s here! It’s here!” She held the letter in the air.

“Get your ass down here and open the damn thing!”

Giggling, she flew down the staircase and tore through the sliding doors to the backyard. Roman bypassed the ladder out of the pool and instead pulled himself up and onto his feet. He was soaked, of course, and her running slowed to a stop as she watched him ring out his hair and pull the sticking shorts from his meaty thighs. What the hell had she just been excited about?

“Come on!” Roman ordered.

She skipped over to him and shared a quick kiss with him before beginning to tear into the envelope. She stopped halfway through and met his eyes, her own eyes the size of flying saucers. Roman shook his head and cupped her cheeks with dripping hands. He kissed her again, lingering this time, and her belly began to warm and her heart broke its stride. When his lips released hers, her smile returned and her fingers continued. With him, she could do anything.

Her fingers finished the long tear at the top of the envelope and she pulled the letter out that had already decided her fate and her place in the world. Had it all been worth it? Was she good enough? She unfolded the paper, took a deep breath, and began reading. After a few seconds, the expensive paper slipped from her grip to the concrete, instantly absorbing the pool water cascading down Roman's god-like body. Her eyes met his.

“I passed,” she whispered.

Roman’s perfect lips slowly spread into the proudest smile she’d ever seen, including ones from her parents. “Say it again,” he told her.

“I passed.”

“What?”

“I passed.”

“What!”

“I passed!”

Hands under her arms, he lifted her up with zero effort necessary, and she wrapped her dry body around his drenched one. “Let’s celebrate!” he declared.

“Roman!” she squealed, as he began to fall backward into the heated pool, taking her with him. Once she untangled herself from his embrace, she turned to him, both still underwater, and smiled, bubbles escaping her lips. They kissed as they surfaced, and he kissed her as he carried her out of the pool and into the house, kissed her as he climbed the stairs, kissed her as he kicked the bedroom door shut behind them.

She was on the verge of tears. A closet the size of her childhood bedroom that was filled with thousands of dollars worth of clothes had absolutely nothing to offer on the night of her celebration dinner with Roman. Every dress seemed frumpy, neither jeans or slacks were appropriate, and the remainder of the hangers were filled with work attire and her more comfortable clothing. Why hadn't she planned in advance? She could have gone shopping for something new.

“What’s the problem?” Roman asked, crossing his arms over his ample chest, leaning against the frame of the closet door. His dark eyes were dancing and a smirk played on his lips, and she wanted to slap him for finding amusement in her clear distress.

“Do you need something, Roman?” she sighed. “I’m obviously not ready.”

The Samoan chuckled, approaching her. “You’re a lawyer now, baby girl.” He abruptly smacked her ass, and she jumped from not only the surprise but the force. “Lawyer up.” He winked at her over a massive tattooed shoulder as he exited the closet, presumably to finish dressing himself.

She rolled her eyes, returning her attention to the miles of clothing that held no interest to her whatsoever. That is, until she landed on the section dedicated to her career. Pretty blouses, some sexy, but she was more focused on the abundance of pencil skirts. Roman all but drooled anytime she got off work and he was able to experience a skirt. His cousins, Jimmy and Jey, also seemed to stare more often when they came over for dinner and card games and she had no time to change before beginning to cook. Jimmy specifically had been caught standing in the kitchen entryway, watching her every move as she bent over in one of her tighter skirts to retrieve the casserole from the oven—she’d caught his reflection in the newly cleaned oven door.

With renewed energy and a mischievous smile on her lips, she searched through her skirts for the tightest fit, passing an unfamiliar dress as she tossed hanger after hanger to the opposite side of the closet. She paused, brows furrowed, and came back to the dress. Eyes widening, she remembered purchasing this dress when she’d first been hired as a paralegal. Upon trying it on for Roman, he’d promptly forbidden her to wear that dress to work, or anywhere, for that matter, unless he was present. It had gone into her closet and she hadn’t thought about it since, and she suspected Roman hadn’t either. Perfect. After squeezing into the Fashion Nova mini-dress, applying smokey eyeshadow and a deep maroon shade of lipstick, she slipped her feet into her red-bottom Louboutins. She left her hair down in waves, and she flipped it over her shoulder as she kissed her reflection in the mirror before finally exiting the bathroom. She’d never had such confidence before meeting Roman Reigns. Even his cousins joined in building up her self-esteem—even if it was only barely hearing them whisper how lucky Roman was for scoring such a “fine piece of ass.” She giggled at the memory of her boyfriend smacking them both on the back of the head.

Roman stood at the front doorway, leaning against the wall, scrolling through his phone that just seemed like a tiny toy in his huge hand. Hearing the clicking of her heels, he glanced up the winding staircase as she descended. His normal, adoring smile had begun forming on his full lips before he even saw her, but when his gaze spotted the form-fitting dress, the smile fell behind his perfectly groomed beard and his eyes blackened. Anyone else might have been frightened, and they would have good reason, but she could only smirk and arch a brow as she clutched at the bannister and continued down the stairs. Meeting at the bottom, the couple took a moment to admire one another.

The dress she wore resembled a men’s dress shirt that had been transformed into a black satin mini-dress. Collared, the sleeves were long with big cuffs, the body had buttons from top to bottom, and ruching on the sides with adjustable drawstrings. The tighter she pulled on the drawstrings, the shorter and tighter the bottom of the dress became. She understood Roman’s reservations about the dress being appropriate for work, but it was certainly appropriate for the celebration dinner ahead of them.

Roman was an Adonis, as usual, from his slicked back hair tied in a bun, to the black shirt beneath a gray blazer, to the black slacks and belt, and right on down to the black, shiny shoes. He tucked his phone inside a pocket within the blazer, turned to her, and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his pants. He eyed the dress, leaning this way and that to inspect all the curves and angles of her body. Roman Reigns had an unmatched ability to make her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world with not but a look, and so she spun around to give him a taste of the whole package.

Roman slowly smiled, and her brows creased, because he seemed almost sympathetic. Like he knew something she didn’t and he was almost ashamed of it. Almost. The fire was still very much consuming his eyes, and the way he deliberately licked his lips gave her an idea of how this night would end. She had no earthly idea how wrong she was.

“This dress,” Roman said.

Nodding, she pressed a hand to the center of his chest. “This dress.” Roman slowly smiled, and her brows creased, because he seemed almost sympathetic. Like he knew something she didn’t and he was almost ashamed of it. Almost. The fire was still very much consuming his eyes, and the way he deliberately licked his lips gave her an idea of how this night would end. She had no earthly idea how wrong she was.

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macfrog · 1 year ago

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walking through fire | one shot

just something that's been on my mind the last few weeks. i hope that you're all ok going into this difficult time of year. and if there's any part of this, big or small, that you find yourself resonating with - there will always be a warm, cozy chair in my inbox/dms, free for you to come sit, hang; we can talk about everything or nothing at all. love you guys. 🤍

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

summary: you’re neck-deep in a bout of seasonal depression. your boyfriend suggests an autumnal walk. (better than most healthcare systems offer amarite)

warnings: quite literally about depression & anxiety so please read at your own discretion. established relationship, fluffy soft!joel takes care of his girl, implied suicidal thoughts, use of medication to treat depression/anxiety, feelings of worthlessness/burdening, but hope! in the end! a wee sliver of hope!

word count: 2.7k

main masterlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🖤

November turns on itself all too quickly.

Your body feels like lead, sinking deep into the mattress. Like a broken, rusted shipwreck at the bottom of the ocean; your hand lying limp above the bedsheets like a sailor’s last attempt at reaching over the waves for help.

Joel opened the blinds today. Nuzzled into you, the scruff of his beard sharp on your numb skin, and then stood up and slowly unveiled the glaring light of white cloud. You shrunk further into the bed, your hot breath suffocating you under the sheets. Inhaling and exhaling, breathing in your own rotten air.

He pushes the door open and shuffles across to the bed. Your sea dips when he lowers into it, two arms slipping around your waist like a lifebuoy. He pulls you into his chest; his warm body melting the ice of your bones.

“Hey,” he whispers, and drags his nose across your cheek. He kisses your temple, combs his fingers through your hair. Dabs his thumb along your bottom lip and then says again, “Hey, darlin’. You awake?”

Your eyes flutter open, only enough to see the blurry shape of him; the strong curve of his shoulder, the binary of dark cotton and pale skin.

“Hi, baby. How you feelin’ this mornin’?”

The words catch on the dry cliff of your throat, dangling for a few seconds like panicking climbers, before plummeting into the abyss. You settle for an incoherent mumbling, a vibration on your lips that Joel understands through the pad of his thumb.

“Yeah,” he sniffs, “not so good, huh? That’s okay. You know how much I love you?”

And that peels your eyes open a fraction more. Only enough to sharpen the image of him, to find the dark pools of his eyes and the way the flame in them flickers as he says it.

“Love you so much,” he whispers. The tiny fire thaws the very bottom of your heart, even if only enough to keep the blood pushing heavily through your veins.

Your eyes close over again, and you take his shirt in two weak fists, pulling yourself into his body. Your head fits in the crook of his arm, burying into his side.

“You feel like leavin’ the house today?” he asks, voice sweet and earnest. “Just for a little while? We could go for a walk, could go for a drive. Just you ‘n me, sweet girl.”

You shake your head, your eyes prickling from the sincerity of his question. The guilt beginning to creep its way over your shoulders.

“No? You don’t wanna?” He lifts his head, staring out at the view from the window. “’s a nice day out. Cold, but it’s dry, ‘n the leaves are all orange and yellow, just like you like. Not even for a half hour?”

That same guilt – sneering, bullying – pokes a sharp-clawed finger in your ribs until you answer him. “Tired,” you mumble, screwing your eyes shut until you see the sudden, violent assault of stars in your vision.

“I know you’re tired, baby,” Joel says, stroking your back. “But it might do you a little good to get some fresh air. And you’d be with me, and we can come back home whenever you decide.”

Your fear and shame seem to cower beneath his words; melted by the soft timbre of his voice. They retreat inward, burrowing deep between the cage of your ribs, twisting and mangling around your pale bones.

“We can come back whenever?” you whisper, defying their threats.

“Whenever, darlin’. Promise.”

You surrender yourself, letting him take you in his arms and carry you over to your closet, where he sets you down gently. Keeping an arm around your waist, Joel waits patiently as you pick an outfit, and then helps drape it over your frame. You feel more statue than human – solid substance rather than plush flesh. Cold and brittle; the tender touch and lively glow drained from your skin the same way it drains so quickly of energy.

You’ve been fighting for years. Months and months and months of one step at a time and just keep going. Being told you’re more than what’s going on in your brain, being told not to let it become you. But there are days when you stand before the mirror, and you don’t recognize the figure staring back at you. The dark tunnels in place of eyes, the thin line of her lips.

There are days you can see the marks on your skin from how tight your anxiety and depression bind you; wrapping like ivy around your body until there’s nothing left of you to see through the dark green leaves. Just a haggard, shapeless thing. A skeleton too tired to carry the weight of yourself; a heart too weary to beat in time.

There once existed a time you had smiled, even laughed – you know it, you have the lines scored deep into your cheeks to prove it. Sometimes they ache when you think about it, like even they miss the feeling. Joel knows it, too – you sense it whenever he tells some dumb joke, sense that he’s searching your face for the slightest lift, the slightest dip of a dimple. And it fucking kills you, when you realize you have nothing sincere or true to offer him. No swollen cheeks, no flash of teeth. At best, a heavier exhale pushed from your nostrils.

It all feels so long ago, that lighter, fresher, happier you. It feels so far from your clutches. Like you’re drifting further and further from the surface, disappearing into the murky depths of your own mind.

The doctors, the articles, the fucking motivational posts on Instagram all say the same. Keep fighting it. Confront your illness. Prove it wrong. But you’re so fucking tired of fighting. Fighting it the entire drive to work, your heart threatening to burst; fighting it every conversation you have, your façade slowly cracking. Swallowing the panic like you swallow the medication; both of them sticking in your throat and refusing to go down.

There is no fighting it. There is no overcoming through confrontation. If you broke your leg, shattered every bone to dust, would they say the same? You gotta walk on it straight away to make it strong again. You don’t think so.

Joel doesn’t seem to think so, either. Joel, with a heart of molten gold, ready at every turn to let it pour onto your skin and paint it the color of sunlight when you can’t do it yourself. Joel, with his strong arms and wide reach, bundling you up over the top of all that foul ivy and snapping its thick stems with just his fingers.

Joel, who will sit at the edge of your bed and watch you take your meds; kiss your forehead and squeeze you tight when you show him your empty mouth. Joel, who will hold you in the dead of night and tell you stupid stories about his brother when they were kids, rubbing your back and chasing the dark ghosts from your mind.

Joel, who still sees something in you – whether he’s imagining it or not – and decides each day that it’s worth protecting. Worth saving. You’re worth saving, even on the days you don’t believe it yourself.

He drives for ten minutes, a little out of the suburbs and into a thicket of fire-colored leaves and solid, frozen ground. Fall sinks its teeth deep into the roots of the earth, drying up the bloom of summer and replacing it with something harder, something tougher. Nature is dying in the November breeze – the amber leaves painted the color of the trees’ blood as they fight a losing battle against the shifting of time. You feel yourself decaying with it: a drawn-out, painful surrender to the bleak days and dark nights.

Joel keeps his hand on your thigh the entire ride; you keep your fingers intertwined with his. The fluttering in your chest gets quicker and quicker, spreads its wings wider the further you feel from home. Your mouth dries up, forcing you to swallow after every third breath. But his hand stays there, planted on you like the root of an ancient tree: never shifting, no matter how strong the wind throws punches.

A shaky breath falls from your lips when he slows to a halt, the truck parked by a long wooden gate. He cuts the engine and turns to you, squeezing your leg lightly.

“We’re just gonna walk down there,” he nods out the window, “and back again. As slow as you like, ‘n we turn back when?”

“Whenever I want,” you whisper, nodding.

“Whenever you want, darlin’. Just say the word, alright? Sound good?”

You nod, blinking away the strain of tears across your vision. Your knee bounces, the metal buckles on your boots clinking in the footwell.

Joel rubs his thumb against your cheek. Lifts your free hand and places a delicate kiss to your knuckles. “I am so proud of you,” he mumbles against them, like scoring it into the bone.

You fill your cheeks, flattening your lips together, and he pulls on his door handle.

Five paces from the car, you realize how cold it is. The bitter air snaps at your cheeks, drags the salty tears from your eyes. Joel quickly fixes the collar of your jacket and pulls your scarf over your face.

“You bring gloves?” he asks.

Your head shakes in response.

“Here.” He fishes in the pockets of his tan jacket for a dark brown pair, flicking his fingers for you to hold your quivering hands out. He slips them on, all too big for you, and then knots his fingers through yours and leads you on down the sloping backroad.

Bordered by tall trees on either side, you feel secluded and hidden from the rest of the world. It fills you with equal parts comfort and terror: nobody else is here. No one can see your vacant eyes, the wet stain of fallen tears on your cheeks. Not the vice grip you have on your boyfriend or the weak quiver of your voice.

And at the same time: nobody else is here. No people, no sign of life. Just an isolated track, the looming trees overhead, the squelch of muck and the bite of fall for company.

Joel matches your pace, strolling along by your side with your arm through his and his hand resting on top of yours. He catches your glances over your shoulder, sees the jittery movements of your head as you scan the scene around you, and pats the back of your hand tenderly.

“Take a deep breath for me.”

You fill your lungs with a chilly gulp of air, pushing it back out again as steadily as you can.

“And again.”

You repeat the exercise, your chest swelling against your buttoned up coat.

“You’re doin’ great,” he says, looking down at you. “You feelin’ okay?”

“I’m – Yeah, I’m just…” you twist back to search for the wooden gate, “…can’t see the truck anymore.”

“’s right there, promise ya. You wanna go back?”

He pauses, and your boots scuff to a halt on the stony terrain. You chew the inside of your cheek, eyebrows arching to release more tears from between your lashes. “No,” you breathe, “I wanna try to go further.”

“Then let’s try to go further. Yeah?”

You nod, setting off when you realize he’s waiting for you to take the lead.

The fields on either side of you are strung with a thick blanket of mist from one end to the other, masking the trees at the opposite side and obscuring the line between earth and sky. Your body close to Joel’s, your heartbeat attempting to match the steady pace of his, you feel safe, protected. The promise that you can call it a day whenever your body begins to weigh too much, whenever your lungs begin to falter.

Somewhere between the thinning of the hedgerows, another slanted, shabby gate materializes. Its crisscross panels and worn wooden posts separating you from the first company in your twenty-minute walk.

“Joel,” you call, loosening your grip on his arm and wandering over to the long, dewy grass towards a chestnut horse, a sliver of white fur diving deep between her eyes.

She slowly thumps over, huge hooves sinking deep into the soft dirt. Her long tail swishing, navy rug wrapped around her midriff. She docks at the gate, puffing a heavy breath – hot, thick clouds shooting from each nostril.

“Hi,” you say quietly, lifting a floppy-gloved hand for her to sniff. “Joel?” you say again, glancing down at her swollen belly, the low droop of the rug. “I think she might be pregnant.”

She tosses her head up, ears flicking, and nuzzles into the soft material of Joel’s glove. You feel her wrinkled muzzle, the strong, solid bridge of her nose. She blinks slowly; huge, deep brown eyes twinkling in the late-morning light, and you swear she’s trying to communicate something to you.

“Hey, girl,” Joel says, running a careful hand down her mane.

The horse sighs serenely, eyes flitting between the two of you. Her nostrils flare gently, light brown lashes fluttering. You tilt your head, stroking her and letting her teeth graze the sleeve of your jacket. Her bulky head turns to-and-fro, glancing up and down the trail you’re stood on, contently waiting for the passage of time. Enjoying her view from the misty field before it all changes again.

Unexpected and unwelcome, the absence of compression in your chest suddenly makes itself known. Dread spills into your lungs, thick like tar. You turn on your heel and cast Joel one fleeting glance.

He catches it, and without missing a beat, asks, “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” you say. “Is that okay?”

“’s more ‘n okay, baby. You did so good today. Didn’t she?” he asks the horse, who huffs another hot breath. Joel tosses a thumb towards her. “See?”

You step back over to the animal, now preparing to wander back on home, and give her one last tender stroke. She blinks twice, tosses her head a final time, and her broad body turns, thudding off back up the slope.

As he links your arms again, Joel blinks down at you, the corners of his mouth slowly lifting.

“What?” you ask, shyly.

“Look at you,” he says, nudging your shoulder with a glint in his eye. “You’re smilin’.”

Autumn flashes by as Joel drives you home – ginger and bronze and honey and cinnamon blurring into one as you pass them by. You settle back against the headrest, moving with the sway of the truck, your tired fingers tracing blind shapes on Joel’s palm.

Nature is burning. Perhaps dying is too harsh a term. Burning in preparation for the winter, when it will lay dormant and restful. Quiet, save for the crunch of snow beneath your feet. Bland, save for the sparkle of frost on your windowpanes. The droplets of beauty laced through, the little reminders that not all has been lost.

I am burning right now, the earth says, but wait until you see what I can become.

The days will turn to night. The sun will tear the sky to tatters, set the whole thing fucking ablaze, go down in a battle stained in red and orange and deep, dark blue – and she will still return, spilling golden all over the horizon. She always does.

The clouds will cover overhead, dampening the color on earth. The blues will fade to gray, the yellows will undoubtedly pale. And then the sky will clear, when it is ready; the clouds will break in two to let a ribbon of cerulean burst through.

The leaves will fall to the ground and feed the soil; new ones will sprout from buds left in their wake. The ground will thaw, will soften again in time to welcome the push of daisies and burst of heather. The horse will foal, the birds will sing to their babies, the buzz of insects will irritate your ears; the rivers will gush and the trees will sway and you will be okay again.

You will be okay again.

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller au #joel miller fluff #the last of us #tlou #tw mental illness #tw depression #tw anxiety

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greenwitchfromthewoods · 27 days ago

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nymph. [part 5] l General Marcus Acacius

Summary: you have been with him for a long time, but he has never seen you. but everything has changed.

Warnings: angst, fluff, memories of death and arena fights, old romance, lots of sadness, some tears, gods and mythology are treated in a simple way

A/N: I hope you enjoy this chapter. I've hidden something there… something that happened a while ago and came back to them. I'm curious… I'd like to know what you think of this series. or anything I write. My inner critic probably does too well. But I'll leave you with this and thank you for your time.

I hope you will be gentle with me. your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

nymph [masterlist]

It was another hot day and even though you were in the shade, you could feel the heat pouring off the sand in the arena. You had never seen a place like this before. It was massive, raised above the rooftops, as if it was shouting to everyone "I will be here for eternity while you turn to dust".

Marcus was strangely quiet and nervous that day, you could see it in his gaze and how close he was to you. Brutus and Aurelia, as they had promised, showed up at the coliseum with you, but it didn't help.

The crowd around you, the greetings from the other guests and the place itself, General Acacius was restless and would have given anything to be able to take you away from there.

But your eyes, like the eyes of a child, absorbed it all, absorbed his world.

"Marcus! How good to see you!" a cheerful and resonant voice reached your ears as well.

"Lucilla." Marcus nodded as the woman smiled fondly at him. "I’m glad to see you in good health."

She was beautiful. Golden hair fell in waves down her back, a robe draped around her shapely body, and precious stones and gold sparkled on her hands and neck.

Lucilla was beautiful and she definitely knew it. How else could you explain the spell she cast over the people gathered in this place.

She gave him a smile. "I was glad to hear in what glory you returned to Rome. Why haven't you visited me yet? It's not nice to keep old friends waiting."

"I had my duties."

"Duties?" she repeated, and her gaze wandered to you. You didn't look in her direction, but you could clearly feel her searching gaze on you. "Is this your new..."

Your name left his lips like the words of a prayer, Lucilla immediately felt it. Despite everything, the smile didn't leave her lips.

"I'm glad to see you're happy, Marcus." she said, her hand tenderly squeezing his arm. "If she gives you this happiness..."

"She gives me more than I dare to ask for."

The woman nodded. After a short moment, she withdrew to her seat, but you still had the impression that her eyes hadn't left you and Marcus.

"Everything’s good? Come on, let's take our seats."

You sat down at the back and after a moment you saw Emperor Geta and his brother appear in the box. All the majesty and splendor of their personas was overwhelming, but you had the impression that the people around them seemed to stiffen and began to weigh their words more carefully.

However, you didn’t have time to look at them more closely. The fights had begun.

Marcus felt ashamed and embarrassed. When he saw the expression on your face, his heart stopped for a moment. He wanted to take you away from there, to erase from your memory what you had seen, what you had heard...

Your fingers tightened on the ornate armrests of the chair and you slightly leaned forward as your widened eyes watched the bloodshed in the arena with horror.

"My dear..." he whispered in your ear, but only a sigh escaped from between your parted lips.

He took your hand and kissed it, but that didn't help either. Your fingers were ice cold. Gods, Marcus regretted ever letting you see all this!

The conversations and laughter of his companions reached him as if from behind a curtain. All his attention was focused on you and only his alertness allowed him to react appropriately when any words were directed at him.

Let this all be over! Please...

Brutus and Aurelia took you back home, Marcus's duties forced him to stay. You barely spoke to him or his friends, still dazed by what you saw.

"Take care of her." Brutus ordered Melitta when she appeared to welcome you home.

You were barely able to understand her words, although she spoke to you calmly and with concern.

"Where is she? Melitta!" his loud voice echoed through the darkened corridor.

The girl quickly approached him, leaned around the corner, and bowed quickly.

"My lord." she said "I tried my best, but she..."

"What about her?" Acacius growled, approaching her "Speak, girl, if you value your life!"

She raised her head, looking at him pleadingly "I prepared her a bath to ease her nerves. She's still there..."

"How long?" he frowned.

"Since she came home."

"It's been a few hours!"

He pushed Melitta aside and went inside. The stuffiness and the smell of incense immediately filled his nostrils. You were there, sitting on the edge with your feet immersed in the water. The maid had to cover your shoulders with a robe. But what frightened Marcus was your gaze. Glassy eyes stared into space, you looked like a sculpture.

"My love." he said quickly approaching you, he touched your cheek, directing your gaze to him "I'm so sorry."

"Marcus..."

He saw the tears running down your cheeks, your trembling lips, the crease between your brows. He had never felt so helpless before.

"I'm sorry you had to see this. I have no words to justify myself, but please... Just say something."

"I don't understand this, Marcus." Your whisper was barely audible. "I've seen the wrath of the gods, I've seen the battlefields, but this... Just to please a handful of people? Do you all despise your lives so much?"

"I have nothing to defend what you saw."

"How could you defend it? There were ordinary people there too..."

"Thieves and bandits. Slaves."

"People." You took a deep breath. "So who am I, Marcus? What am I? I feel like I'm floating between worlds, not belonging to any of them... I saw the delight on the faces of some, and the terror in the eyes of the dying. Where am I in all of this?"

Warm, large hands cupped your face. Gentle brown eyes looked at you with fear, but also with love and care.

"You're here with me. That's what matters." He said. "Our life is beyond all of this. I'll take you away from here, somewhere where you'll feel free, safe... You belong to me, and I belong to you. That's all that matters."

He saw the shadow of a smile on your chapped lips and couldn't help but taste them. They were salty from tears, but still soft and comforting.

"Come on, love. Let me take you to bed."

With incredible ease he lifted you into his arms and carried you to the bedroom. You were so fragile in his arms, when he placed you on the bed he was still surprised that you were real. It was late, the house was silent and the room was filled with the sweet scent.

You watched as Marcus removed the gold bracelets from his wrists and then his toga, which he placed on a nearby chair. The glow of the candles danced on his wide back.

"Lucilla."

Your quiet voice caught his attention as he poured himself some water from the jug on the table. He turned around, you were sitting on your heels and staring at him. Your face was so soft in the light.

"I saw how she looked at you." you continued calmly. "Something connected you. Feelings, right? Strong ones."

Acacius nodded.

"What happened?"

He cleared his throat and took a few steps, his thoughts returning to those times, the times of his youth.

"It was years ago..." he began "I was a young soldier, gaining experience. She was lonely. Like me."

"She's beautiful."

"Not like you." you smiled slightly and continued "Our paths crossed."

"Did you love her?"

Marcus sat on the edge of the bed, staring at his hands, which suddenly seemed colossal, rough. Inappropriate for you. However, your presence next to him was so soothing, he closed his eyes.

"I thought so." he replied "I thought it was love. But everything changed suddenly."

Your hand rested on his shoulder "How so?"

"I don't know. I was away from Rome for a while. When I came back, when I met her again and kissed her, I felt like I was betraying someone. It sounds crazy, but it was true. The shadow of an unknown person, someone I had lost and didn't even know, hung between us. I couldn't... Lucilla sensed it, she didn't ask questions. I devoted myself to the army, to Rome." He looked at you, a faint smile playing on his plush lips. When you stroked his cheek, Marcus sighed quietly.

"I've never told anyone about it. Is it possible to suddenly wake up one day and feel like something's been lost? Because that's how I felt. I didn't know what it was, but I felt like someone had cut out a piece of me. No one could fill it. And then, years later, you appeared... You were there like the wind, like a breeze or a warm gust." his lips brushed your wrist, you rested your forehead against his and closed your eyes. “I felt you before I saw you. And once I saw your face, gods, it was like I woke up from a long sleep.”

For almost four days, General Acacius's house had been just you, Melitta, Antigonus, and the rest of the servants. His duties had forced him to report to the barracks, and this time he couldn't find an excuse.

It was your first separation in a long time, and although you missed him, every day surprised you with something. Like when Antigonus said you could accompany Melitta to the market. Or when you went to the nearby temple together.

Aurelia and Brutus, Marcus's friends, also visited you, but seeing that they had torn you away from sitting among the maps and notes you were so passionately devouring, they decided that nothing would threaten you. So if it weren't for Antigonus' complaints, you would probably have moved the bedding there.

You felt it again.

You didn't tell Marcus about it, but you waited for the familiar scent to fill the bedroom again. Maybe you were wrong? Maybe it was all just a vivid dream?

But when you stood by the open window to the garden, you heard the quiet words of prayer, you knew you were right. The grass was soft under your bare feet, and the pleasantly cool wind brought relief after the hot day. You walked quietly so as not to scare anyone away.

And when you stopped behind the rose bush, you saw her.

Melitta was kneeling in front of burning candles, with incense made of herbs and flowers that gave off a scent so familiar to you. Her quiet voice mixed with the rustle of leaves and cicadas.

You didn't want to interrupt her prayers, it wasn't right. But you listened to the words and with each subsequent one you felt as if your heart was sinking.

These were not ordinary prayers. Regret, sadness, a plea for forgiveness, a promise to improve... All these words were accompanied by Melitta's silent sobs, carried through the night to the stars along with the smoke of her incense.

And then you understood.

She was just like you.

��☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

@ashleyfilm @gothcsz @littlenicpascal @missladym1981 @axshadows @psychoenergy @sabsunflowergirl @pedrofan @heckzprince @hard-candy-writing @mynameisbaby9 @94namkooksworld @bbyanarchist @picketniffler @tranquilty @psyched2b @jeewrites @tuquoquebrute @aotfantasmagorias @mynameismothra @kluvspedro @fefa-la-printcessa

#pedro pascal #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius #general marcus acacius #general acacius #general marcus acacius x reader #nymph series #gladiator ii #gladiator 2

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kybercrystals94 · 2 months ago

Text

Banner by @blackseafoam | Event: @galactic-gift-gathering

This story was written for @nerdyduckrants and their prompt “Snow”…they wanted something with the Bad Batch and full of family fluff 🖤 Thank you for the fun prompt, and for being an amazing part of this fandom ☺️

Snow Day

Read here on Ao3!

Rated: G | Words: 1365

“Crosshair’s on my team!” Omega announces, latching herself to Crosshair’s arm as if one of their brothers might try to bodily snatch him away.

Crosshair groans, and halfheartedly tries to shake her off, but Omega holds fast, grinning wildly from under her knitted hat. Her face is already turning pink from the cold because she refused to wear the matching scarf Hunter had tried to wrap around her.

“Maybe I don’t want to be on your team,” Crosshair grumbles.

Omega snorts. “Liar.”

He is a liar, but he’ll never ever admit it out loud. Just like he’ll never admit that the fact that she chose him over either Wrecker or Hunter gives him a sickeningly, sticky warm feeling under his rib cage where his heart is.

A year ago, Crosshair thought if he never saw snow again it would be too soon. And yet somehow, willingly, he is standing in the stuff halfway up to his knees, all because Omega has never had a proper “snow day.” Where Hunter managed to find all this cold weather gear on short notice is beyond him, but Omega’s weeklong dream of having a snowball fight with her brothers is coming to fruition.

“I guess teams are decided then,” Hunter says with a grin, and nearly faceplants in the snow when Wrecker sidles up to him and slaps him on the back.

“Me and you, Hunt! We’ll show ‘em how it's done!” the giant crows.

Omega swings from Crosshair’s still captive arm. “No! We’ll show you, won’t we, Crosshair?”

“They won’t know what hit them,” Crosshair agrees, smirking.

“Hey, no putting ice in your snowballs,” Hunter says sternly.

Wrecker adds, “Or rocks.”

“Why would someone do that?” Omega asks, aghast.

“Because two someones figured out the accuracy of a snowball was increased with added weight,” Hunter says.

Wrecker coughs, “Crosshair. Tech.”

Omega laughs.

“Those someones were right,” Crosshair returns, “But three other someones were being tubies about it, even though they were literally wearing armor and it didn’t hurt them at all.”

“It was the principle!” Wrecker declares.

“Well, we’re not wearing armor now,” Hunter says.

Crosshair rolls his eyes. “Fine. I’ll teach Omega how to make boring, regular snowballs. Happy?”

Hunter gives his youngest brother a look and changes the subject. “Alright, we have twenty minutes to prepare for the fight.”

“Starting now!” Wrecker cries and dashes away.

With an indignant noise of protest, Hunter takes off after his teammate, leaving Crosshair and Omega on their own.

Omega looks up at Crosshair. “What do we do first?”

“First,” Crosshair says, finally extracting his arm from Omega’s grip, “we need to create a base. Where we’ll keep all our ammunition.”

“You mean our snowballs?”

“Ammunition,” Crosshair reiterates, enunciating each syllable. “This is a battle. A battle we’re going to win.”

Omega grins. “Okay. A place to keep our ammunition. Got it.”

Crosshair surveys their surroundings, eyes moving across the blinding white blanket of snow. The landscape is a meadow with rolling hills, framed on the outskirts by evergreen trees. They can use this to their advantage if they play their cards right, putting their fortress at the crest of a hill so that they can have the high ground advantage when Hunter and Wrecker try to advance. While Hunter and Wrecker will use the same tactic, building their own base at the top of a hill, Wrecker will never be patient enough to wait for Crosshair and Omega to come to them.

Which will be his and Hunter’s ultimate downfall.

“I’ll make the walls of our base,” Crosshair decides, starting to move in the direction of the highest hill. “You’ll focus on ammunition.”

“Okay!” Omega chirps, following in the path Crosshair is clearing through the snow.

When they make it to their destination, Crosshair points at the ground. “Use this snow to make the snowballs. I’m going to build four walls around you.”

“But won’t we need to get out?” Omega asks.

Crosshair smiles. “Not if I know our brothers.”

Omega gasps when the realization hits. “They’ll come to us!”

“Exactly.” Crosshair kneels down in the snow, scooping up a handful in his flesh hand and uses his prosthetic, sheathed in a glove, to begin forming a ball, demonstrating the technique to Omega. “I trust you can make a few hundred of these in fifteen minutes?”

“A few hundred?” Omega gasps.

“A thousand, that’d be better.”

“That’s impossible!”

“With that attitude it is,” Crosshair tells her. “Now stop whining and get to work!”

Omega groans and crouches down to scoop up a handful of snow. Crosshair looks at the weapon in his head then tosses the snowball at her lightly, the soft, white orb bursting on the back of her head.

“Hey!” Omega cries, twisting to glare up at him.

“Target practice,” Crosshair says, shrugging

Omega throws the half formed ball in her hands at him, hitting his stomach with a mist of snow.

Crosshair gasps, dusting himself off. “You’re wasting our ammo!”

“You started it!”

“I never said I was a good example, did I?”

He is rewarded with an eye roll and a smile as Omega turns back to her task, scooping up handfuls of snow and balling them up. Crosshair begins forming the walls of their fortress, gathering up armfulls of snow from the sides of the hill and bringing them to the top, making piles that he then begins to pack down.

“It feels like it’s been longer than twenty minutes,” Omega says, scraping up another handful of snow from her nearly depleted supply from within the fortress.

Crosshair is finishing the fourth wall. “Oh, it has.”

“Then where are they?” Omega asks, standing to look over the wall.

“Waiting for us to come to them,” Crosshair says.

“And we’re waiting for them to come to us?”

“Exactly. But we’ve got something that they have in short supply.” Crosshair climbs over the wall and sits down next to her. “Patience.”

Omega laughs, then looks at her piles of snowballs. “Did I make enough?”

“No, but it’ll have to do.”

The girl sticks her tongue out at him.

“Real mature,” Crosshair drawls.

It is at that moment that a giant snowball sails overhead, obviously a product of Wrecker’s massive mitts.

Crosshair grabs a snowball in each hand, and Omega does the same.

“Ready?” Crosshair asks.

Omega nods, eyes bright and glinting with mischief. “Ready.”

And the battle begins.

***

“I feel cold all the way to my bones,” Omega says, her hands curled around a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

Hunter chuckles. “Yeah, that’s what happens when you play in the snow for too long.”

Crosshair ignores the dark memories trying to creep up, focusing his attention on the fact that Hunter thought to bring something warm and sweet to drink on the flight back to Pabu. During the war, it was usually watered down instant caf that greeted them when they returned to the Marauder, rationed out because they didn’t know when they’d be able to get more.

“I like this stuff,” Wrecker announces, then tries to shake out the last drops of his hot chocolate into his mouth from his mug.

Crosshair likes it too; however, maybe it's the residue of that sticky warm feeling in his chest, but he passes over his mug to Wrecker to finish off. His brother smiles at him, broad and toothy, and happily accepts the silent gift. Crosshair’s mouth twitches up in a responding half smile.

“That was so fun,” Omega sighs. “Can we do it again someday?”

“Sure, kid,” Hunter says, reaching over to tousle Omega’s smushed up hair that is flat against her head from the hat she’d been wearing.

“But we’re gonna switch up teams next time,” Wrecker grumbles.

“No!” Omega cries, “Crosshair and I made the perfect team! That’s why we won!”

“But I’ve never gotten to be on Crosshair’s team,” Wrecker whines. “And my team was so lame.”

Hunter frowns. “I’m right here, Wreck.”

“I know,” Wrecker says.

Crosshair smirks. “I’ll decide whose team I’m on.”

Omega wiggles her eyebrows at him and mouths, Mine, right?

Crosshair shrugs dismissively, even though the answer is yes.

For that kid, the answer will always be yes.

END

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dearmura · 2 years ago

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pretty you

☆ cw. None, not beta read (have fun reading my grammar mistakes😘)

☆ genre: Fluff fluff and more fluff

☆ pairings: non-idol! Ni-Ki × fem! reader

☆ synopsis: Ni-Ki and you causing havoc in some random fitting room tbh

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

"But Ki why do I need new clothes when I could just take yours?" you sulk as you're dragged through the mall parking lot

"Because I like my hoodies I would actually like to wear them please and thank you" he speaks in a way you already know without looking is mocking

"But don't you like when I wear your hoodies?" You continue insisting

Parents passing by probably thinking how well behaved their children are compared to you sulky toddler

He coos at your antics, snaking a hand around your waist, kissing your temple before whispering softly in your ear

"Of course I do, Angel, but you always steal them all" He almost giggles seeing your obviously annoyed stare

Reaching the entrance, he holds the door for you before following right behind you inside, returning his hand to hold yours

Still noticing you weren't exactly convinced, he turned you to face him, ducking down to your level a little

"How about this? If you try on some clothes, I promise I'll buy you ice cream right after? Does that sound alright, princess?" He speaks softly, knowing your weak spot

Seriously considering it, you weigh out your options carefully, making him scoff lovingly

Rolling your eyes, you uncross your arms in defeat, muttering a quiet "fine" before taking his hand once more, making him giggle

"Oh my gosh! Come here for sec, angel, this would look so good on you" he spoke with a little bounce, pointing to a pair of flared shorts, painted with little daisies embroidered into the fabric. Biting his lip in anticipation, he watched your reaction intently

You couldn't hide your smile at his excitement, following your eyes to where he pointed, only to be stunned by his excellent taste

Honestly, you were fully expecting him to be pointing at a hot dog costume or something, pleasantly surprised he didn't take his opening to crack one of his famous jokes

Seeing him grab your size, adding it his pile of clothes very obviously not for him, your heart melts. Suddenly feeling bad for your lack of appreciation, you do some exploring of your own

Scrolling through the racks upon racks of clothing, you realize going out wasn't as bad as you initially thought it would be, mentally noting to thank him for taking you

You practically squeal when your eyes catch a pair of couples hoodies. He would happy to know you wouldn't steal this one (you still would)

Taking it in your arms, you continue eyeing the racks, spotting a pair of sweats, remembering him mentioning his need for new ones

Before you knew it, you no longer had the capacity to grab another article of clothing, your hands desperately clinging onto the pile of items you picked out. Wobbling a little, you search the aisles to find the boy, immediately spotting him due to his height

Picking up the pace a little, you jog like an excited puppy to the Japanese boy, anticipating his reaction to your picks. Approaching closer, he spots you, just about to say something before you trip over yourself, expecting your fall to be broken by the ridiculously high pile of clothes but instead you feel a pair of hands on your waist

"Not so fast, angel what's the rush" he teases before helping you up, taking a majority of the clothes from your hands

"And what happened to not being interested? Are you saying I didn't need to bribe you with ice cream after all?" He says through a smile, admiring the blush that creeps upon your cheeks

"J-just try on the clothes, nishimura" you speak while looking straight at your feet, almost like a child after being scolded

A finger hooks under your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze as he leans down to your level a little, man he really loves making you feel short

"Eyes up here, darling. There's no need to be embarrassed" He smiles

"And make me go alone, come on" he bits lip expectantly, taking your hand in his, guiding you to the fitting room

Setting down your picks, he hands you his only after whispering softly

"Try these on for me beautiful. Call me in when you're ready" kissing your temple, he closes the curtain behind you, giving you privacy before settling himself on a chair just outside the fitting room

Shaking off the stupid grin on your face, you opt for trying on his first pick, slipping it on while eyeing yourself in the mirror. You had to admit, it hugged you perfectly.

Opening the curtain, his eyes meet yours before they pan down to your figure, biting his lip a little

"Can you do a little twirl for me, angel?" He says softly, giving you his full, undivided attention. Following his request, you can't help but giggle a little

"As expected" He finally speaks

"You look stunning" He breathes out, meeting your gaze with pure adoration. You blush a little, striking a pose jokingly

He giggles at your antics

"Okay babe strut strut" He cheers your on, getting up from his seat before kneeling down, leaning back with his hands imitating a camera

"There there there! Perfect perfect and pose! and pose! and pose!" He jokes, making you both fall into a fit of laughter

Sensing the judging pairs of eyes on you two, you pull him into the fitting room before he could notice, not wanting to ruin the moment for him

He's doesn't seem to mind, urging you to try on a particular pair of sweats. Grabbing it, you noticed a size bigger under it, realizing he too thought alike with couples clothes

"Ki, ki, try on that hoodie over there, it's also matching" you say excitedly, realizing you two could have couple outfits vomit inducing I know

"You're too cute, princess" he whispers before pecking your cheek, immediately taking off his existing shirt to put on the hoodie. Handing you yours, he urges you to try it on, gasping dramatically when you do

"We look so cute! Like two peas in a pod" he says rubbing himself on you jokingly, making you mock him back with a fake gag

"Wait, I have to to" he says before reaching into his back pocket, pulling out his phone, pulling you closer ever so gently by the waist to pose in front of the mirror

Snaking his hand around your waist, he kisses your cheek *click*

Burying his face in the crook of your neck, you both giggle softly *click*

Bending down, he gently tugs at your hoodie arm, urging you to do the same. Striking a V pose, you mirror him *click*

You couldn't help but break into a fit of laughter at his dedication, falling back on your butt from kneeling down *click*

Before helping you up, he quickly adjusts the settings on his phone, using the opportunity to take a .5 pic of you, making you gasp

"You little-" Thinking you were reaching out to cover the camera, he was flabbergasted to say the least when you pulled him down so he fell right on top of you, making your stomach hurt from laughing too much. Rolling his eyes, he tries to hold his own laughter in, eventually failing when he hears yours

The workers were probably scoffing at you two acting like a bunch of five year olds

Were you possibly banned from this store now? Yes

Did you care? Not at all

That was a problem for future you. As of now, all you care for is the beautiful boy before your eyes, making you unimaginably happy beyond your wildest dreams

Fin

Pics aren't mine! Credits to the owner

#enhypen #enhypen fluff #ni ki enhypen #niki fluff #niki x reader #niki x you #nishimura niki #enha imagines #enha x reader #enha fluff #ni ki #niki soft hours

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slutforsilverfoxes · 1 year ago

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Two Dirty Martinis and One Olive(r)

[A continuation of Oliver with a Twist 🖤]

—————

“I just miss him so much,” you sniffle, scrolling through an album simply yet effectively titled with the olive emoji and a green heart. “Do you think he knows that I’m coming home? Or do you think that he thinks he’s getting abandoned over and over again? Oh my gosh, that’s so sad,” you lament aloud, bottom lip trembling while you stare into your cat’s soulful eyes on the dim screen.

“How much has she had to drink?” Aaron murmurs to JJ as you continue pining for your fur baby and talking Emily’s ear off across the table.

“Well, none of us really ate today, and she’s had one green tea shot and one-” The blonde grimaces as you down the rest of your glass and amends, “Make that two dirty martinis.”

You pop the singular olive swimming in the last dregs of the alcohol into your mouth before your eyes grow comically wide. “I just ate my son,” you declare, your statement accompanied by a gasp.

Aaron smooths a hand over his face to resist laughing at your antics and excuses himself to get you a glass of water. Leaning against the bar while waiting for a bartender to become available, he studies the way you talk so animatedly, emphasizing your thoughts with your hands, and the way everyone around the table has an easy smile on their faces while they listen to you. This team has always felt like family, but your presence has made them complete.

He can’t help but think of his own little family of two, and he wonders how Jack would feel about a new special friend in his dad’s life. Aaron’s seen the way you interact with children on cases, and he has no doubt that you and Jack would get along exceptionally well. Plus you have a pet? His son would be elated to have a cat to-

“What can I get for you, sir?”

He’s abruptly pulled from his daydream of the two of you coming home from a case to your two-legged and four-legged sons, the back of his neck heating up as he turns to face the bartender. Clearing his throat, he requests, “Just an ice water, please. Thank you.”

Beverage in hand, Hotch overhears the last of your statement to your best friend on his return to the table, “…would be nice to come home to a man.” Emily raises an eyebrow at him over your head sleepily nestled in the crook of her neck, and he fixes her with a look that clearly reads Don’t you dare.

She dares.

“Any man?” the brunette smugly prompts.

“There is this one guy,” you confess in what you believe to be a whisper but in reality is heard clear as day by the whole table. You let out a hum and a dreamy smile spreads across your face. “He’s perfect. At least, I think so.”

Aaron focuses intently on a bead of condensation running down the glass holding your ice water, fighting the urge to confess his love for you right here and right now in front of the team. His other option, which isn’t looking entirely unfavorable, is to place the drink on the table and flee the scene.

“But he’s so dumb,” you announce with a huff of frustration, and Hotch swears the world around him comes to a dead halt with a record scratch.

Stifling a laugh at the way the man in question’s sheepish smile has immediately melted into a frown, JJ inquires, “How so, hon?”

“I mean, what’s taking him so long?” you demand. “I’m pretty cute, I think. I’m clearly single thanks to this fuckin’ job. And I’m-” You wave your hands around in front of you before clarifying your meaning, “-putting out all the signals, y’know?”

“Well, why don’t you just ask him out, mamas?” Derek offers. Your girlfriends’ heads swivel in his direction with narrowed eyes, and he shows his palms in mock deference, mumbling a placating, “Damn, okay,” around the lip of his beer bottle.

A sigh rattles out of you as if Morgan has grievously inconvenienced you before you explain, “I can’t, dummy.”

“Why not?”

Aaron can’t wait to hear this.

Your best friend rushes to cover your mouth before you say something you’ll regret when sober while Penelope and JJ jump in to change the subject, but your muffled voice escapes through Emily’s fingers anyway. “HR says fraternization between a unit chief and their agent is a big no-no,” you elaborate, stretching out the word for emphasis. Aaron’s palm is damn near frozen now from stupidly standing there holding the glass, but his feet simply won’t move. “And trust me,” you carry on, bowling over Emily’s desperate attempts to shush you, “I wanna fraternize with that man,” you declare giddily.

Aaron clears his throat to announce his presence, hoping that the dim lighting in the bar will mask his pink-tinged cheeks. You turn to see him standing there and your face splits into a wide grin, your alcohol-addled brain seemingly not connecting that he bore witness to the entirety of your confession. “Hotch!” you cry happily. “You’re back! And you brought me a water,” you sigh, reaching for the glass.

“Figured you could use it,” he mumbles quietly, pulse racing when your fingers brush as the glass exchanges hands.

You assert, “You’re the sweetest ever,” and he’d be lying if he said his heart didn’t skip a beat at that.

The girls are studiously avoiding eye contact with him while Derek is staring at him, dumbstruck, and Spencer is quietly calculating the odds of you two confessing your feelings to each other before the night is over with a small smile on his face.

Hotch finds himself really wishing Dave hadn’t turned in early tonight. Or that he, too, had embraced being a senior member of the team and gone to bed instead of celebrating closing this case over drinks.

“Y’gonna just stand there all night?” you ask sweetly before patting the spot in the booth beside you. Aaron looks to his original seat to find that JJ and Penelope, still averting their eyes, have somehow shifted to the edge of the booth, leaving virtually no room for him to squeeze back in on their side.

Equal parts hesitant and hopeful, he slides into the space next to you feeling like a schoolboy with a raging crush when his leg tingles at the spot where the warmth of your thigh seeps through his slacks.

Oblivious to his racing pulse and thoughts, you lean your elbow against the tabletop and your cheek against your palm, looking up at him with a soft smile and a simple, “Hi there.”

“Hi, Y/N,” he murmurs back, and you gasp, “You said my name!”

“I say your name all the time,” he argues.

“Nu uh,” you protest, “it’s always Y/L/N or Agent or Agent Y/L/N.”

He hums in response, unwilling to admit that your name on his lips makes his brain a little fuzzy and his hands a little shaky.

“I like when you say my name,” you confess in a whisper, and Aaron can actually feel his heart swelling when you look at him like that, like he hung all the stars in the sky just for you.

In all honesty, if that’s what you wanted, he would defy gravity to make it happen.

“How’s Ollie doing?” he asks to change the subject, needing you to talk about something that makes you happy so he can keep seeing that beautiful smile on your face.

“Oh my gosh, so good!” you squeal excitedly. “He’s so, so smart. I taught him to sit and shake before meal time. Wanna see?”

“Of course,” Aaron smiles.

With a sly grin, you negotiate, “I’ll show you my kid if you show me yours,” and Aaron’s heart is now trying to actually escape out of his chest. “You…want to see pictures of Jack?”

“Of course,” you echo back. “How could anybody not love that little cutie? He’s got your dimples, y’know.” Your concentration shifts to your phone then, looking for the video of Oliver offering you his paw while Aaron sits there with a goofy smile on his face that has those very dimples making a rare appearance.

The next morning, armed with the logic that you’ll surely need to stave off a hangover, Aaron knocks on your hotel room door and asks you out to breakfast before your flight back home.

—————

Find the third & final part of Aaron, reader, & Oliver's story here!

AH tags 🖤 @gothwifehotchner

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trentsgirl · 1 year ago

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— 🖤 ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

⟡ summary: you want to be more than just friends, but jude doesn’t.

⟡ content: fwb!jude x reader, pure angst, no happy ending, reader getting a bit emotional, around one thousand words, one shot.

⟡ notes: not my favorite work, but had to get it out of my drafts some day. also, requests are open:)

⟡ streaming: say don’t go by taylor swift.

⟡ masterlist.

the cold winter wind tickled your nose as you and jude strolled amidst the rustling leaves, your breaths creating misty clouds against the fading daylight.

in the midst of casual chatter about trivial matters like the latest bakery in town, jude’s impressive gym gains, and his peculiar dream from the previous night, an unspoken tension lingered. it was a quiet question mark concealed within cozy quiet moments and secret glances.

as you reached the bridge, gazing down at the glistening ice below, you halted, your focus fixed on the serene scene. with a hushed voice, you finally uttered the question that had been weighing on your mind, “what are we?”

jude paused, his forehead creasing in confusion. “what do you mean?” he responded, genuinely unaware.

you let out a sigh, turning to face him directly. “please don’t say we’re only friends,” you pleaded, revealing a vulnerable side that caught jude off guard.

a pang of emotions surged within him, a tangled web he struggled to unravel. “well,” he stumbled, searching for the right words, “we’re more than just friends.”

“alright,” you echoed, a flicker of optimism dancing in your eyes.

jude, still taken aback, muttered, “yeah.”

a profound silence enveloped you both, pregnant with unexpressed hopes. detecting his hesitation, you tilted your head, replacing hope with confusion. “is that all?” you inquired.

jude’s eyebrows rose as he met your questioning gaze. “what do you expect me to say?” he snapped, exasperation mingling with a touch of desperation.

a pang of disappointment tugged at your heart. “aren’t you also confused?” you challenged, a hint of letdown coloring your voice.

jude shook his head, his eyes dropping to the ground. “confused about us? i mean, i haven’t given it much thought, to be honest.”

his words landed on you like a sudden downpour, dousing the glimmer of hope you had held onto.

was it all in your imagination?

had you constructed something out of stolen glances and intimate moments that existed solely within your own mind?

the wind whispered through the bare branches, echoing the emptiness in your heart.

inhaling deeply, you managed a smile and said, “oh.. yeah, it’s okay,” while slipping your hands into your pockets. “let’s just keep going.”

as time passed, the silence became heavy with unspoken words. you paused once more and asked, “so, it’s just me?”

jude, lost in his own thoughts, blinked at you, still puzzled. “what’s bothering you so much?” he inquired, genuinely unable to grasp the turmoil brewing within you.

frustration urged within you. “honestly, jude, what do you want?” you trembled as you demanded.

he shrugged, his face blank. “i want what we have now,” he replied, oblivious to the chasm between his contentment and your longing.

“what do we even have?” you exclaimed, desperation creeping into your voice. "meaningless sex and telling everyone we’re just friends. is that what you truly want?”

taken aback by your sudden intensity, jude struggled to respond. “we have something that brings us both joy, don’t we?” he stammered.

“are you genuinely happy?” you questioned.

he hesitated, caught off guard by your directness. “i’d say so, i suppose,” he replied cautiously. “and you?”

you averted your gaze, the wind tousling your hair. “i don’t know,” you admitted softly, the weight of the words resonating. “does it even matter? i just want clarity.”

“i don’t know what you want me to clarify,” he muttered.

he was well aware of the direction this conversation was heading, and he felt paralyzed, unable to take the necessary steps towards the impending confrontation.

“will things remain the same?” your voice quivered, each word reflecting the hidden fears bubbling inside. “do you really not see us going any further?”

jude clenched his jaw, your radiant smile haunting his thoughts. he despised himself for allowing things to escalate to this point, for leading you on when you were never intended to be anything more than a temporary diversion.

“i... i can’t answer that, y/n,” he stammered, his voice weighed down by remorse.

“for whose sake? mine or yours?” you questioned.

“for both of us,” he responded, but the words lacked sincerity, even to his own ears.

your frustration, held back for so long, began to engulf you as you demanded. “listen, i need an answer. now.”

you couldn’t continue in this way any longer. it was time to determine if your time with jude was worthwhile, because honestly, it felt like a waste. the two of you seemed to follow a repetitive pattern: he would appear, have sex with you, and then vanish for weeks before the cycle repeated itself.

jude, caught in the midst of your emotional storm, could only stumble, “what will happen if i can’t?”

you swallowed back a sob, the words you despised forming on your lips like bitter ashes. “this thing... is over.” you uttered painfully.

the declaration hung heavily in the air, more of a surrender than a triumph. you observed, your heart racing, as jude’s expression turned vacant. you waited, desperately clinging to the last shreds of your composure.

and then, he simply uttered, “okay.”

his response, devoid of any emotion, felt like a blow to your stomach. you, momentarily stunned, could only repeat his word, “okay? what does that mean?”

jude shifted his weigh from foot to foot, recognizing the pain he’d cause you. “okay,” he corrected silently, “as in it’s over.”

the weight of his statement crashed down on you like a forceful wave. disbelief surged through you, threatening to overwhelm you with its icy grip.

tears, restrained for far too long, welled up in your eyes, distorting the city lights into shimmering trails of anguish.

“are you fucking serious?“ you choked out quiveringly. “are you truly so afraid to confront our situation that you’re willing to throw it all away?“

jude glanced down, unable to bear the weight of your accusation. “i’m sorry you feel that way,” he muttered, his words carried away by the wind. “but you were knew from the beginning.”

“knew what? that we were doomed to fail?” you retorted fiercely.

jude locked eyes with you, his expression filled with deep remorse. “you were aware that i didn't want to treat this seriously,” he explained, his voice lacking the usual charm that eased your worries. “you knew the circumstances.”

desperately clinging to shreds of hope, you pleaded, “those things can change. no one makes the rules but us.”

however, jude remained firm in his decision. his shoulders slumped, his words laden with a burden you couldn’t comprehend. “for me, things don’t change like that,” he confessed. “i’m sorry.”

the apology rang hollow, lost in the vast divide that had grown between the two of you. it became clear to you, unmistakably clear. this wasn't about circumstances or fate; it was about him. “just be honest,” you said bitterly. “you used me.”

jude flinched, a flicker of guilt flashing across his face. “don’t kid yourself, y/n,” he retorted defensively. “i made it clear that i wasn’t interested in a serious relationship. it’s not my fault you misunderstood.”

each word felt like a dagger, piercing your heart. with a sickening realization, you understood that you have built a fragile castle of illusions, believing that stolen kisses and intimacy were promises of forever.

with one final, tearful glance at the man who shattered your heart, you turned away, unable to stand there and keep together any longer.

in the midst of that heavy silence and suffocating atmosphere, a profound realization washed over you—sex doesn’t make someone love you.

304 notes · View notes

cry4mina · 7 months ago

Text

Take Me Back To Eden - Are You Really Okay? - Part 6.5

(Mina x gn!reader)

Take Me Back To Eden Series Page

Word Count: 7k

Angst/Fluff/I don’t know what to call this

Summary: This takes place at the end of place after reader passes out in Part 6! Please read that for context! This is also in FIRST PERSON (gasp!) from Mina’s perspective! See what Mina sees at the end of *THE* scene and some of the consequences of Nayeon’s actions.

TW: Guns, violence, abuse, sex/mentions of sex, medical stuff and lemme know if I miss anything! (I so did)

A/N: We are experimenting a little bit on this one with first person pov! Thank you to @2wiceasnice9 for making these gifs for this! I appreciate it very much 🖤

Thank you guys for reading as always! Ask/Dms always open! 🖤 Love yall, have a great day!

—

“Nayeon, you can’t do this!” Oh my god, she’s really going to shoot me. Y/n is on the floor bleeding out right in front of both of us and she’s going to fucking shoot me?!

Panic ices my veins as Nayeon opens her mouth to reply. Tears are filling my eyes and I can’t seem to blink them away fast enough. I hear Nayeon hit the floor, shouting out and the gun skidding out of sight.

Nayeon’s rage is heard but no longer seen, the sounds of struggling bouncing off the walls from behind the desk. Hearing Y/n’s grunts of pain make me nauseous and panicky. A hefty sinking feeling that weighs me down, physically trying to slow me while I come up with a plan to stop everything around me.

If I want to put a stop to this, I need that gun.

Now.

Seeing a glint from the metal on the edge of the room against a baseboard, I race over to pick it up.

In my race to turn around I see Y/n getting the shit beat out of them on the ground. Nayeon gets up, scanning the floor to try and find the gun that was already in my hands.

I don’t want to do this! God, I really don’t want to fucking do this! Deep breath in, exhale slowly, finger around the trigger and…

The shot louder than any sound I’ve ever heard, reverberating the ache in my heart harder as the scene before me unfolds in slow motion and deafening silence. Nayeon mouth opens and face turns red, reflecting anguish when her knees hit the floor. She coddles her abdomen, mask contorting from hatred, to pain in the blink of an eye.

I drop the gun and immediately run over to Y/n. She’s bleeding all over the floor, I cup the back of her head to try and halt the loss of her life force but I’m so worried it’s already been too much spilled, the puddle of blood growing larger with passing seconds.

Y/n is so disoriented, I can barely catch her attention. Pulling her head into my lap, trying to talk to her to keep her here but she keeps looking at me with fluttering eyes. I can’t even hear my own voice, crying out for her without even an echo in my head.

I can’t hold myself together anymore, my tears start to fall endlessly down my cheeks. I can’t lose her. Even in such a short time, I’ve grown to truly care for this human that lays in my lap, bruised and bloodied.

The look of hope beaming through her eyes in an attempt to focus on me. My heart cracks just a little more. Someone had to have heard the gunshots. Someone had to call for help, right?

“Y/n! Y/n! Look at me, it’s going to be okay! We are going to get you ou-”

A heavy jolt of pressure slams into my chest.

Air ripped from my lungs at a pace that’s indescribable.

Unable to even hear my heart beating in this deafening silence, my eyes water and my breathing tries to regulate but hyperventilating was the only response my body had.

I look up and see Nayeon with her hand over her wound, slouched in the corner of the room with the gun pointed right at me.

At…me?

Y/N’s body starts to vibrate in my arms, I look down for a split second to see them screaming in agony. The thick crimson liquid drips down my torso rapidly when it registers what’s happened. That’s where the burn starts. A stinging, fiery, gut wrenching blaze of panic that drench the tension in something that can only be explained as pure terror. Nausea and sweat are immediate following the outpour of blood.

My breathing picks up rapidly, my body finally catching up with my brain and trying to save itself. I keep my hand on the back of Y/n’s head, and bring my other up to cover my own wound. Watching as Nayeon keeps her eyes on the scene unfolding, a grimace on her face when Y/n passes out in my arms.

“Mina, you should be happy!” mockingly loud, spat at me through the ringing of my ears.

“At least she won’t have to watch you suffer!” Nayeon brings the gun back up, pointing it right in my line of sight before her head swings to her right and she locks eyes with something behind me.

Nayeon’s eyes widened at the door that’s violently flying open. My hearing fades slowly back in. Turning my head towards whatever Nayeon was looking at, Jihyo storms in and is yelling and aggressively flailing her arms.

Jihyo?

What is she doing here?!

Confusion sets in, the blood spills from my chest, and it’s getting harder to breathe.

Jihyo continues to point when she looks over and sees the state of Y/N and I. Her eyes widened with pure terror and rage, storming over to Nayeon and attempting to grab the gun from her. Nayeon points the gun at Jihyo and kicks her legs out weakly, trying to keep Jihyo away from her.

“I don’t want to shoot you, Hyo! Baby, please!” Faintly heard through the ringing of my eardrums trying to reset.

“LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE, NAYEON! The police are already on their way, I told them everything about your plan!” Jihyo snatches the gun from her. She’s absolutely bawling her eyes out in disgust at how far Nayeon was willing to go.

My vision starts to blur leaving light trails behind every thing that moves. Nayeon stands and lunges at Jihyo, throwing punches and kicking her, trying to reach for the gun again.

“Why would you FUCKING tell them?! I thought you were loyal! I thought you loved me!” Nayeon screeches in a fit of rage, mustering every ounce of energy she can to wrestle Jihyo to the ground.

My body starts swaying back and forth. I'm losing the will to stay awake. I look down at Y/n, passed out in my arms. Her breathing is shallow.

I have to keep my eyes open for her.

I start coughing harshly, tasting the blood that is spewing out of my mouth, coating my tongue in an iron laced flavor. The taste of defeat is present in the moment, if I’m coughing blood…that mean that the bullet is probably in my lung…I’m going to drown if I don’t pass out from the blood loss first.

I’m trying my best to keep pressure on my chest and on the back of Y/n’s head but my strength is wavering far too much to be successful in both.

A warm hand on my back that has a sense of urgency startles me. Attempting to focus, I look up to see Momo bawling her eyes out next to me. Her hand flies over mine to put more pressure on my bullet wound.

Momo is trying to understand everything happening around us, eyes frantically trying to absorb everything one by one. The bullet hole in my chest, Jihyo and Nayeon fighting it out on the floor, Y/n’s bloodied state, and then right back to her hands, that are now covered in my blood.

“How did you know we were here?” I choke out between shallow, hoarse breaths.

“Jihyo called me on her way here. I was on the phone with her when I heard the first shot.”

My head feels too heavy to hold up. I slouch a little, swaying and trying to keep my eyes open and the pressure tight when a loud smack startles me and Momo both.

Both of us looked up immediately to see Jihyo shaking her hand in pain, knuckles bloodied, and Nayeon trying to stand back up but struggling to stand on her own two feet.

Nayeon tackles Jihyo to the floor again, large hands around her neck, tensely squeezing our leader's throat. Jihyo is trying everything in her power to pry Nayeon’s fingers off her throat, gasping and tugging at her digits, trying to hit Nayeon but nothing would remove her.

“I’m sorry, baby, but I couldn’t end up with you. You just aren’t Y/n.” Nayeon hisses above Jihyo before lifting her head by her neck and slamming it into the ground.

Momo stands up to try and come to Jihyo’s defense, ready to defend her and help her get Nayeon subdued until the police arrived.

A bang shatters every reality between what should have happened and what did happen.

Colors wash out of my sight when I see how Momo freezes in front of me, unmoving in a statuesque fashion, breath being held in a death grip.

I call out to her, barely hearing my own voice when her body shudders, turning away and bringing her attention back to me and y/n. I can see and hear her sobs in whispers and grey wash.

Looking over to where the struggle happened, Jihyo is still laying flat on her back sobbing with Nayeon on top of her, too still for comfort.

“Momo…what happened?” I squeak out.

Her eyes are lifeless. Someone who has just witnessed something horrific squatted before me, hands shaking, struggling to apply pressure to my chest and unable to look me in the eyes.

“Why did you do this?…why?” Jihyo cries out through sniffles and rage filled tears.

The clunking sound of someone rolling into the floor catches me off guard, watching Jihyo stand. She’s drenched in blood and making her way over to me.

“Momo…” I croaked with the last bit of my energy, when my vision started to fade to black.

“Stop…Y/n’s blee-…”

The last thing I felt was my back hitting the floor and coldness.

—

Everything is hazy and unfamiliar for a moment, lucidity is not something my brain feels like it’s familiar with. I can’t tell if my eyes are closed but I feel cold. Prickling in my skin does nothing but annoy as a rush of chemicals tells my body it’s okay to be okay.

It’s going to be okay, right?

The burning sensation I can’t quite pinpoint eases rapidly after the sharp stick in the divot of my arm. The voices I hear are unfamiliar, except one. The tone brings comfort, but I couldn’t tell you who it was or what they are to me. All I know is this clouded darkness behind my eyes.

I fall into what feels like sleep. Calm, quiet, almost nurturing in the way of comfort. It envelops me completely. What a joy to feel something other than fear and pain.

Just calm.

I hope she’s okay.

A loud slam of something metal around me brings me into a state of conscience that I have never felt, shifting me into something recognizable and familiar. The darkness in my eye lids slowly fades into warm lighting, laughter and playfulness is heard through out the room I find myself in.

I’m at Jihyo’s house?

How did I get here?

“Oh my GOD! Baby, what are you doing here?!” Nayeon screams and runs out the front door.

Baby?…What is happening?

Y/n and Nayeon walk in, hand in hand. Smiling at each other and everyone is running over to meet the girl that Nayeon has been gushing about. I feel a pang of jealousy in my stomach. Y/n would never do this to me, after what Nayeon did.

Trying to stand to confront them both, I can’t force my body to move.

Wait…

This is the party where we met for the first time.

One of my favorite memories.

She’s sitting there quietly and I just can’t help but watch her take everything in. Her energy is so warm. So peaceful.

I mirror her, silently taking her in, watching her body language, watching how she is with the other members. Politely listening to others speak about their individual interests. I see her eyes shift to me.

“Mina, I know we actually have some hobbies in common! You like legos and video games too, right? Minecraft is what Nayeon told me.” quizzically from across the way.

I can’t believe this is who Nayeon was with. This is not what I pictured at all. Usually she dates obsessive fangirls that she can use and throw away when she’s done, but this person she has just introduced us all to…was nothing like that. She was kind, considerate, very good looking, and someone who brought life into a conversation.

The first of a few conversations, usually that she started. I was always too nervous to speak to her without her prompting it, though I desperately wanted to. I was and am so fascinated and intrigued by the fluttering in my stomach with every word spoken in that angelic voice.

Faces start distorting when I come to the conclusion that this must be a dream.

I must be dreaming.

The walls drop and everything snaps to darkness. My legs whisking me forward trying to find some sense of direction when I blink, I’m in a hallway? Where am I? And then I see her.

Walking down the same hallway laced in gray paint, the embodiment of sunshine, the light in this monotone building. Y/n walks right past me and offers up a small smile. A soft “Hey Mina. It’s so good to see you.” And a somber wave in my direction, the gentle tears streaming down her cheeks, I remember this…

The corridor zips out from underneath me, shrinking in the distant void to a mere sparkle. I’m alone in the darkness again. Why did I just hop from a memory to another memory…?

The sound of yelling brings be to another familiar place. Half warm, half ice. The energy here was a weird sense of home, comfortably uncomfortable.

I’m at Y/n and Nayeon’s apartment…the girls are in the living room but Nayeon and Y/n are nowhere to be seen. The music is just loud enough to muffle the shouting in the other room but I’m close enough to the door to hear it.

“Fine! Do whatever you want, Nayeon!”

“What do you mean? You’re supposed to come with us!”

“I don’t want to be around you, so you go! Do whatever you want, you’re going to anyway!”

The door opens, Nayeon steps out and I see Y/n hunched over in a chair with her head in her hands, body shivering, obviously holding back sobs. Nayeon closes the door quickly to avoid the detection of the fight.

Making eye contact with me as she spins around, I smile at her and pretend I didn’t see. Y/n needs her right now, and she’s just going to leave with us? What kind of a partner are you?

The sound of her cracking open a beer can throws me forward, through a sliding glass door.

I’m on a balcony? I can hear the girls inside laughing and having a good time. A sniffle rings out against the laughter in a contrast that makes my stomach sink.

Looking to my left, I see Y/n sitting with her back against the wall, curled into herself, elbows resting on her knees and hands covering her obviously crying face.

My heart breaks in that moment, in a way it didn’t the first time. In a way I didn’t know was possible. Just as I did in the memory, I sit next to her in silence. The memory wouldn’t allow me to change it’s already pathed out course, this moment I would never change.

She looks up at me when our shoulders touch, eyes red and swollen.

“Oh! Mina…Hey!. Sorry, I’m okay. Just…uh…having a bad day.” through the tears that descend down her soft cheeks.

“Are you really okay?” I wish I could say more. I know she’s not okay. I’ve known for a while but it’s not my place to tell this person I barely knew to leave her partner. It seems like Nayeon has manipulated Y/n into thinking that what was happening between them was healthy.

Super sweet love bombing.

Calm conversations with carefully chosen words to belittle, betray, and knock down.

Nayeon’s perfectly crafted nightmare of subtle abuse was so laced in other tastes that it was almost impossible to spot from any perspective, you had to be paying attention very very closely to see it. It makes sense why she lost her mind when she did. The plan falls apart when the object of your manipulation realizes they have free will, or you get too sloppy and they flat out leave.

She stops moving, frozen in the question. The pain behind her eyes sears my heart in ways unexplainable. How I wish I could take that pain away from her.

Y/n leans her head on my shoulder, tears stop falling momentarily. Her body relaxes in a way I was unfamiliar with before…was she always this comfortable around me?

A knock on the slider blends with the sound of something being thrown across the room that materialized right in front of me.

Suddenly, I’m in Japan for our group interview, walking in on Jihyo and Nayeon having a very heated conversation.

“What am I supposed to do? If the public finds out…the company will have a fit!” Nayeon is in tears, fists bawled and red in the face. Jihyo is holding her, rubbing her back in a soothing manner. Her hand glides up Nayeon’s spine in a very…intimate…way.

“Don’t worry, honey.” swiping a tear gently off Nayeon’s cheek, the loving look in her eyes was something I’d never seen them share. I had never seen Jihyo react this way to anyone’s tears like that, not even Sana.

“We can figure it out, okay? We can make a plan for when Y/n and you talk and keep our story strai- Hey, Mina!” Jihyo jumps back from Nayeon, seemingly nervous about what I’ve seen.

“…is everything okay?”

“Yes, Nayeon and Y/n got into a fight…they’ll be fine. Don’t worry.” Jihyo assured me, though at the time, I didn’t know what I was hearing in that conversation. Nayeon’s glare at me was enough to speak volumes.

She must’ve always known my fascination with Y/n.

“Alright girls, I’ve got a plane to catch back home…are you going to be okay, hon- I mean unnie?”

A freudian slip.

“Honey.” said out loud, just like when I heard it for the first time and again, without my own free will.

Nayeon scowls at me, Jihyo is shocked I said anything and I’m not so confused about what was happening here anymore. At the time I had not realized how close they were, or what was transpiring between them. I can still hardly believe it, even with proof.

The sound of footsteps towards me sends me to memory, turning into my own steps while I pace on the phone with Momo, talking about how Nayeon and Y/n have broken up and what Nayeon did to her.

The upset that all the information she is telling me over the speaker floods me with upset. A rage unseen by most, even hearing it a second time causes me to seethe. An innocent person, broken by the hands of someone unworthy.

Little did I know how broken she would actually get. I thought maybe I could help put the pieces back together, I never imagined it would turn into what it did…

“Hey, Momo, will you send me Y/n’s number? I’d like to check on her.” I still feel the nervousness behind the question along with the cheerfulness of seeing her again.

Even if this broken record moment in my brain is just a figment, it’s making me feel the same way, almost layered in a sense. The before feeling, and the after feeling.

If you really think about it, memories are just mental photobooks. Bottles of feelings and images contained for when you hear a sound, smell something familiar, or are around a specific person that makes your heart scream in agony at the sheer amount of love that seeps into every orifice you have when in their presence.

I am simply living in them.

“Sure, I’m sure she would love to hear from you, Mina.” replied when the phone in my hand vibrates. The text Momo sent has a contact labeled “Y/nnie” I can’t help but chuckle at the cute nickname again. I watch myself, from my own eyes, save it and not change the name.

I hesitate to call, the worry of if she would agree to hang out with me sits on my stomach again. I can do this, I know I can…Okay okay, here we go.

Reliving the excited feeling of calling her for the first time was less excruciating this time, the phone ringing until I heard her yell through the speaker.

“Can you stop calling me? I obviously don’t want to talk to you.” the tone heavy with annoyance, I remember thinking this was a bad time to call.

“..Y/n?” the hesitation when she realizes that I wasn’t the person she assumed I was adorable. Small notes of confusion in her silence was something I wish I could have witnessed sooner.

“Oh…uhm, sorry…I thought this was Jihyo. I don’t have this number saved in my phone…”

“That’s alright” I giggled, feeling a little awkward just as I remember.

“It’s Mina.”

“Mina?”the shock in her voice was noticeable, voice pitched up, and I could visualize her brows furrowing.

“Momo told me what happened and I asked for your number… I hope that’s okay.” the sounds of the call change drastically, going from crystal clear to a little hazy and to the sound of squeaky brakes.

“Yes, that’s totally fine…uhm, sorry, I’m…a little all over the place right now.”

“I know we don’t really know each other too well but…uhm, I know we have some common interests and that you could probably use a friend right now…so I figured I would call and see if you wanted to get a coffee or something…or maybe just sit on the couch and play videogames or… something.” I really should’ve thought about what I was going to say before I called her.

“That sounds…really nice. I’d love to. Would you…want to text me your schedule for the next week or two and we can plan it from there?” My heart flutters again when I hear the sound of her smile beaming through the phone.

“Sounds good, I’ll text you.” hanging up before I got too giggly on the phone. I wasn’t trying to be weird about it to her…I just wanted to get to know her and be around her warmth again.

The sound of my phone locking sends me to her front door, 2 coffees in hand. A deep breath before the door opens. I was so nervous to see her and a little worried about the anxiety that she had been feeling.

The crack of the door ushers me inside and I offer her the coffee she didn’t ask for. We curl up on separate couches and play video games together and just talk.

We have intellectual conversations about almost every topic we stumble upon, I see her back unclenching as the day goes on and I know that we both need to eat.

Heading to the Japanese cafe that was so close by we could walk, our hands brush against each other. To feel that all over again ethereal. Bursts of adrenaline, the flashes of cold, the fluttering of the butterflies, the way it ignited something in me. I was meant to hold that hand.

“These shops seem cool, maybe we should come back another day and explore them.” My ears are burning at the question and the overwhelming tension I feel inside myself about her. I do hope we can go back to those shops someday.

We ordered sake and I asked her if I could order food for her. Paying attention to what she said when we spoke earlier when I was describing the food my mother makes, it seemed like it would be a fun idea.

I ordered the food in Japanese so the meal would be a surprise when it arrived at the table. The way she looked at me when I did was absolutely adorable, seemingly nervous now- scratching the sides of her fingers.

Reaching my hand out, I lay it on hers. Her shoulders relax and her jaw unclenches, our eyes are locked and I’m swooning. Even in a nervous state, this celestial being in front of me was devastating to my heart.

The way the emotions flickered in her eyes and on her face were telling of the last person who held this hand and the damage she left behind.

I touched her without permission, my hand retracted rapidly as I apologized. The food arrives in the middle of her trying to tell me why she reacted the way she did, cutting off the conversation all together.

She notices the similarities in our plates, asking me if we got the same thing. I tell her I remembered the little details from what she used to eat when she came to the studio, so I took off what she didn’t like and had them rearrange things.

She tells me the entire story of what happened with Nayeon over the food that night. I still can’t fathom the type of human that could hurt someone so tender.

The clinking of the plates after we finish our meal puts me in the cafe, paying for the bill. I thanked the lady at the podium and turn to walk out the front door when I see them.

Nayeon is outside with Jihyo, trying to throw herself at Y/n, what the hell is she doing here? I get so angry thinking about the pain that she’s gone through and with a little liquid courage from the sake, I take my stance next to Y/n and grab her hand.

“Are you ready to go, my love?” I make sure to raise my voice a little so that Nayeon and Jihyo can hear what I’ve said. I refuse to let her try to bully Y/n into submission. There will be no opportunities for that, at least not with me around.

“You can’t be serious right now, Y/n! After last night, are you on a date with Mina? A member of my group? Do you not have your own friends to filter through? Did I not satiate you enough? …Maybe we should’ve gone one more round.”

Nayeon is absolutely floored, so mad that she’s here with me. Seeing it all play back in my mind's eye, I should’ve noticed the signs. I should’ve seen what was going to happen. Maybe I could’ve protected her.

Wait…did she say a date?

I mean…I guess this is a date…I never thought about it like that. I wonder how Y/n felt when Nayeon said that…I know now how she feels about us, but I can’t help but wonder what was going through her head while we were here.

Jihyo is silently crying and getting back into the car but I don’t think anyone else notices. While I view her as a huge part of the problem, I can’t help but feel bad for her. Look at her standing there so uncomfortable she can barely even function.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of her from now since you can’t satiate her, apparently.” I wink at Nayeon and lead Y/n away from this mess.

A sneeze places me on Y/n’s couch with her wrapped around me, cuddling into me with her hand on my torso. My heart is full like this. I hope to experience more of moments like these with her.

My body jolts from her pushing down on me, gasping for air in a way that’s rushed and eager. She’s immediately up crying and pacing back and forth in the living room. A panic attack happening before my eyes, I spring into action and comfort her the best I can.

Y/n parts from me, stripping her hoodie off so she’s just in a sports bra. I’m attempting to be respectful about not staring at her half naked but having the hardest time with it. I just want to give her everything she deserves.

I catch her by her wrist as she paces, pulling her into my arms and telling her she’s safe. Y/n pulls back, looking me in the eyes from mere inches away. I can feel her breath against me, I just want to lean in and press my lips on hers when she scoots in a little closer to me.

I take this as permission, meeting her in the middle and the lightning that shoots through me is so powerful that all my nerves burn with the essence that is Y/n. Trying to keep things calm but she starts to lean in harder so I take control.

I push her onto the couch and once my hands hit the couch, the glass shatters and we are surrounded by police and clothed again. The police are questioning my poor Y/n. I wish she could catch a break.

The click of the officers pen and I’m taping up the window for her, turning around to see her completely lost in thoughts with glass in her foot.

The snap of the first aid kit brings us back to her bed, where she’s telling me she feels safe and my heart is racing to tell her all the feelings that have built up.

Next thing I know, I’m between her legs tasting the slick off her folds. She’s moaning underneath me and the sound is godly. I just want to devour her but this isn’t the moment. That will come soon enough. Right now, this is about her.

What she wants.

What she needs.

Cumming into my mouth, the sounds are that of angels singing to me and only me in that moment. I wrap my fingers around her throat and squeeze a little just to hear her moan for me again.

Leaning down to kiss her again, when our lips part I’m on the phone with the police.

“Hello, we’ve called to update you on the case that you filed last night. We’ve arrested Park Jihyo. She admitted guilt when confronted about the vandalizing of house.”

“What?” I still can’t believe she would have taken the fall for Nayeon like that.

When I hit end on the phone call, I spin around to Y/n telling me to lay in her lap and I happily do so. There’s so much comfort in her touch, I can’t explain the calm. It’s calmer than the void at the beginning of this weird live action trip down memory lane. I sink into a deep sleep while she plays with my hair.

When my eyes open, I’m on the phone with Momo. At this point, I’m just letting this memory train whisk me away. I’m not going to question why this is happening.

She’s wondering where I am, I remember the banquet and then I’m throwing my shoes on by the front door when Y/n asks me on a date…an official date. I’m consumed with joy. Finally, Ill get to show her what love actually looks like.

When the door shuts behind me, I’m suddenly at Momo’s house getting ready with her and Dahyun.

“Soooo…you and y/n, hm?” Momo pokes at me to get more information.

“Well…I think so. These past 2 days have been…kind of magic? Even with all the crazy stuff that’s been happening with Nayeon.” I want to shout how excited I am from the rooftops but my body won’t allow me to.

“I really hope yo- wait, what did you say?” The confusion on Momo’s face is laced in concern as she stares at me, waiting for me to fill in the blanks.

I tell her everything. The confrontation at the restaurant, the way Nayeon called Y/n that morning, the rock through the window, and lastly Jihyo taking the fall.

Momo and Dahyun both are stunned by this new information, jaws on the floor. I just nod my head at them, trying to not think about the negatives of this because I have a date with Y/n and the closeness we have has made me so smitten.

“Wait…you were with Y/n this morning? I thought you had plans yesterday…?” Dahyun is confused about the story she has just overheard.

“Uhm…yes. She didn’t want to be alone last night so I stayed with her.” I admit quietly, hoping for no further questions. Not that I don’t want to talk about it, but it feels so fresh.

“…did you sleep on the couch? Or?” Dahyun is smiling so big at me that I can’t help but laugh.

Momo doesn’t even try to stop her from asking questions because she’s curious as well, it’s not like Y/n gave her any information while she was on the phone with her.

“I did not sleep on the couch.”

They both gasp at this. They aren’t stupid. They know what happened.

“Wait did you guys have se-”

“I’m going to go call Y/n and see if she’s on her way.” I step out of the room and dial the phone, stepping outside to get some privacy.

When the door clicks behind me, I’m blasted into the memory of her crying in my arms because Nayeon showed up to her apartment and bombarded her, yet again.

I tell her to stay with me tonight after she expresses she doesn’t want to see Nayeon again. Y/n announces she doesn’t want to impose and I just kiss her to shut her up.

I pull on her blazer to keep her close and feel her hands travel up to my neck. I’m going to take her here.

Right here.

I untuck her shirt, run my fingers along the edge of her waistline when the door flings open.

“Hey, Mina did you talk wi- OH?!” Of course, it’s Momo interrupting the moment. How embarrassing.

“Sorry to interrupt! Should I go back inside or?” Dahyun sneaks out behind Momo through the door and shuts it.

The sound of the lock latching sends me to the table we are all sat at, eating dinner and making light conversation. I’m focused on Y/n, who is toying around with her food and not really present in the moment.

Leaning over to her, I make sure to look Y/n in her eyes when I ask her if she’s okay the first time. A small nod of the head, I lean back into my chair, and continue eating my dinner. I know she’s lying, it’s written in the way her eyes are tracing every detail of the table and avoiding mine.

Maybe she just doesn’t know how apparent it is. I take another few bites, leaning in one more time.

“Are you su-”

“I get that we aren’t together but can you stop doing whatever this-” moving her hands around in a dramatic fashion. “- is, in front of me? Kind of rude, don't you think?”

You are kidding me. I can’t believe she just said that in front of everyone. We are not supposed to be the focus tonight.

“Nayeon, not now.” Momo chiming in like she already knew what any sane person would be thinking watching this all play out. More annoyed than I will allow myself to display, especially after knowing what was going to happen after this.

Especially now, knowing exactly what Nayeon was capable of.

“You think she can do for you what I did? You think she can be who you need her to be for you?! WE are supposed to be here together, not you and Mina! Mina, of all people!” body language threatening and almost violent in nature.

Me? Of all people? What the *fuck* does that mean?!

Everyone around us is completely in shock, with the exception of those who knew what Nayeon was, who Nayeon could be. I see some avoidance from a few of the members, not wanting to encourage her or draw attention to the situation.

Reliving this makes me just as enraged as it did the first time.

“I bet she doesn’t fuck like I do or do you need another reminder of how I fuck you?”

Oh, good god. I still can’t believe she said that out loud for everyone at this table and around us to hear. This is not the fucking place for this.

“I can’t believe you wouldn’t want to work on thi-”

“ENOUGH!”

Boom.

I take another bite of my meal, before setting my utensils down. Looking over at my stunning date, making sure to make eye contact. The fury behind my eyes is enough to prompt her to do what I so desperately wanted to.

“Nayeon, why don’t you tell everyone where Jihyo is?” the malice inflected in the statement sends chills down my spine. This assertive dominant part of her that I was meeting in full form for the first time…I was happy she was spending the night at mine.

I feel the way the warmth fills me, starting between my legs and creeping up as she puts this vicious bitch in her place.

“Y/n…I- I don’t know what you mean. H- How should I know?” That’s right. Panic.

“Oh, sure you do!...Weren’t you with her last night?” Everyone is staring at her now, confused and concerned.

“Wait-” Tzuyu starts and then everything is silent. I look around, waiting for the room to change to the memory I know is next.

Everyone around me is frozen in place, unwavering in complete and total stillness. I stand and fix my dress, this is the first time that I have control over my body since this montage of memories started.

Walking towards the room.

The room.

The room where everything happens.

The room where Y/n gets hurt.

The room where I get shot.

The room where Jihyo ends Nayeon’s life…

I step in with no hesitation, before I realize that the entirety of the room is pitch black and there is no floor.

I fall.

Dropping through a tunnel of nothingness, just trying to catch anything that will keep me from descending into this pit of darkness. The void calls and I’ve returned against my will again.

A halt jerks me out of the dissociated state that I found myself in. How long did I fall for? How long have I been in this state?

A small pinhole of light shines through the ether, steadily growing and getting brighter.

Is it getting closer?

“Mina?” An echoed whisper reverberates every bone in my body. Shaking me violently, the void cracks, shining the beams of another realm through the shattering façade around me

“Mina…darling, you have to wake up.”

Y/n?

Dull beeps pipe through the whispers and into my brain. My throat feels hot, why doesn’t my throat feel hot?

“Mina, please…”

The light is blinding now as a vision of my parents shine through, my eyes flutter open and try to focus on their faces when the smell of hospital breaks all my senses.

The tube down my throat keeps me from speaking, my parents are crying in happiness that I’m awake but the tears I cry are of fear.

My eyes search helplessly, unable to communicate what I’m looking for.

Who I am looking for.

My father notices my panic, trying to calm me when the pain starts. The same burn in my chest from earlier. I try to look down at my chest at my wound when the nurse comes in and greets me.

“Mina! Welcome back! Your family missed you!” cheered through a beaming smile.

I start weakly mimicking writing with my hand, looking around the room for someone to understand what I’m asking for.

My father grabs the whiteboard at the end of the bed with my medical information on it, wiping it clean and holding it next to me. He uncaps the marker with his teeth and spits it out onto the floor, wrapping my hand around it so that I can write.

“Mina, we are going to pull the tube from you now to make sure that lung is functioning the way that it’s supposed to, okay?” the nurse chimes in as I’m writing.

The doctor comes in, trying to usher my father to the side so he can do what he needs to. I grip my dad’s forearm to signal him to stay in place.

“Please, she’s been asleep for so long, can you just give us a moment?”

I write the last few letters quickly before the doctors get to work, I watch my parents brows furrow at what I’ve written. My father takes the whiteboard out of the room, my mother staying with me for the remainder of the removal of the tube.

Gasping for air, my body is trying to recalibrate to the new surroundings. To reality.

“Where…” my voice is gravely and horse, barely coming out in a whisper.

“Is…” I swallow, trying to build up my strength to say the last word I needed to.

“Y/n?”

Thanks for reading! 🖤🖤🖤🖤

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littyhoney · 2 years ago

Note

could you do headcanons where the reader is ganke's cousin and miles fell first but she fell harder?

1610 Miles Morales x reader

(Headcanons)

This is just pure fluff, enjoy spiders! ❤️🖤

>You and Ganke are a close cousins, literally every family gathering you will see his face ever since you were kids like cmon yall must have that one cousin that you're close with

>One time Ganke's family throw a small party for Ganke to celebrate his 15th birthday! you of course attend the little party since you're his favorite cousin.

>As you busy taking some food from the small buffet you accidentally knock on someone shoulder "Oh sorry!" you turn to look at the most handsome boy you have ever seen.

>The boy sheepishly smiles at you before saying "Oh nah it's cool heh" he chuckles as he also take a look at you. He cough slightly before he trynna lean on the buffet table but slips almost causing him to fall, the guy just trynna up his game ya know

>you let out a giggle at his little act before excuse yourself from the buffet to eat the delicious home made korean foods.

>Miles eyes just follows you as you walk away from him the scent of your perfume makes him weak in the knees and the giggle... it sound so cute from you.

>As he is admiring you from across the room Ganke suddenly just hang over his shoulder with "Miles! glad you could make it man, wait who are you watching" Ganke waves his hand Infront of Miles

>"Oh just admiring that really beautiful girl" he says with his hand on his chin looking at you with that dreamy eyes.

>Ganke follow his trail to see you "Oh that's my cousin bro" "WHAT!?"

>You don't know how much Miles begs for Ganke to give him your number the boy even offers Ganke to take him on a swing for a week and with that deal, he got your number.

>My man will be sitting in his room on his bed thumb is hovering over the send button, he has been typing deleting multiple times to send you a message

>Once he did press the send button that's where he just close his phone and cover his head with a pillow. bro is nervous

>You were minding your business suddenly an unknown message pops up with a simple message "Hey! :D"

>After a few hours of messaging you know the guy name is Miles Morales, so far you like the vibe of him. He is chill and an outgoing person, clearly Ganke is not lying about how much of a sunshine this guy.

>A month pass and you surprise Ganke as he finds out you still talk to Miles and even hang out sometimes for an ice cream or chatting at a coffe shop. Usually you will sit down together listening to music as you watch him draw on his sketchbook.

>Ganke however support Miles of him liking you, Ganke also be his wingman by letting know what you like what's your favorite etc etc.

>By that time you starting to develop feelings for Miles, when you hang out and got cold he would give you his jacket, or if you got tired of walking he will piggy back you. It's the little things he do tugs your heart a little by little.

>One time you were just sitting on a bench at a park you see Miles just sketching away but sometimes he would look up at you then look back down, out of curiosity you ask him "Hey what are you drawing?"

>Miles then turn his sketchbook around to you and you just see its a drawing of you, with a beautiful smile on your face wind blows through your hair. That just makes your face red "Wow you draw me?"

>Miles chuckle as he rub the back of his neck "It will be dumb of me if I didn't draw a beautiful girl right?"

>At this point you just reach for his hand and said "It will also be dumb if I didn't kiss such a cute boy right?"

>Boy's face is red you got him stuttering before he could do or say anything you just lean down from the table bench and give him a kiss

>You pulled away to look at him as he just stare at you with a smile before saying" I-I like you"

>You giggle leaning your forehead against one another "I think we already pass that Miles"

CUTE HUH ❤️🖤

#miles morales x reader #miles morales fanfiction #miles morales x y/n #miles morales #spiderman across the spiderverse

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xiefuyu · 1 year ago

Text

Always

-- Sano Manjiro x reader

🖤 — Tokyo Revengers

📝 — angst, just angst, hurt/no comfort, major character death, some manga spoilers

:a/n — I am /not/ sorry everyone

He knew that the tears carving their path in your cheeks was the cause of his hurtful words. Words that he’ll never mean no matter what lifetime he’s in. But this was the only way to keep you safe.

And if that came in the form of breaking up with you, breaking your heart, breaking you, then so be it.

I’ll surely pay for this in hell, my love. I’ll stay there for eternity if I have to.

Your sobs are the only thing echoing throughout the area. This wasn’t how this ride was supposed to go but it felt like the right time. It’s the right time to break you whilst you’re ignorant to the brewing storm incoming towards your relationship with him.

A storm caused by him.

“Ji-jiro…please take it back. Take me back, please.” and God, that’s all he wants to do. All he wants to do is tell you that he’s just joking, that he’ll never break up with you. But it’s essential for your safety.

“Tell me you’re kidding and we’ll forget all of this. Tell me-”

“Stop it, L/N. I don’t love you anymore. I woke up and everything was gone. I woke up and you’re just another stranger to me.” It hurts to be the one throwing lies but he knows you’re hurting more.

“We can still work it out! Do I have to change something to meet whatever you desire? I’ll do it, Jiro! I..I’ll chang-”

“L/N.” ice cold tone cuts you off, leaving goosebumps in its wake, slowly tearing you apart. Manjiro apologises in his mind.

“Even if you change yourself, I still won’t fall in love with you again.” he takes a deep breath, one that you didn’t notice with all your tears.

“You’re too boring for me, L/N.”

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, my love. I promise I won’t ever fall in love again. I promise you that you’ll be taking my heart with you.

I promise you that you’ll never be boring to me.

Silence surrounds you as Manjiro watches with aching heart how dulled your eyes are. How they were slowly filled with agony and insecurities.

Insecurities that he worked so hard to remove only for it to be returned by him, too.

He hated how he doesn’t do anything as your breath stutters as you look at him with utter betrayal. Everything hurts.

But he knows that you’re hurting more even as you nod weakly, giving him a weak smile as you utter an apology that was never meant to come out of your lips.

An apology for being boring for him.

An apology for not meeting his standard.

He can’t stand this anymore. He can’t stand hearing you degrading yourself as you apologise for your shortcomings according to him. So by giving you a last cold look, not even waiting for you to finish and not saying anything back, he turns around, hopping on his motorcycle and leaves you alone at the spot that was supposed to be your favourite. The two of you.

Nevertheless, he hides when he’s far enough and watches over you and follows you like a lost kid as you walk home, heartbroken and exhausted.

As you disappear inside your home, he feels nothing beating inside him.

You took his heart with you.

“Boss, I heard L/N-san’s back in the country.”

12 years. It took you 12 years to come back. He’s now the leader of the most notorious organisation in the country- something you’re not aware of while he knows what you’re up to.

He worked in the shadows to support whatever your decisions are while you’re in the country and he was utterly lost when he heard that you’re leaving. Bonten wasn’t as big as it was now years ago so he couldn’t do anything while you’re miles away from him.

But you’re back and he got everything now to support you again from the shadows.

He nods at Kakucho, his silver hair falling to his eyes.

“Make sure to keep her safe,” he instructs.

His love for you never died.

And as selfish as it sounds, he hoped you felt the same and at the same time, he’s hoping you found your happiness whilst away from him.

Christmas is around the corner, he hopes you’re keeping yourself warm.

“Where is she right now?”

Two weeks have passed and Manjiro does nothing but watch you from afar. A smile never failing to make its way to his lips whenever he sees you laughing with the Toman founders. He wants to get out from the shadows and launch himself to the light- to you.

But he broke you for your own safety and he’s not going to do something stupid for it to account to nothing.

He endured years of pain and lived in the hell he created for you and the others.

With a small smile, he turns around and lets you be.

“L/N-san is there again, boss.” three days. It’s been three days since his boys informed him that you’re always waiting at your spot. The spot that became your and his meeting place. The spot where he broke your heart and where he let you take his heart with you.

It was snowing and yet, you’re always there for three days straight until midnight, waiting for something, for someone.

And he knows. He knows because it was a promise between the two of you.

“Let’s always come here during Christmas week!”

He knows that you’re waiting for him and a part of him believes that you still love him like good old days.

And yet, he does nothing. He won’t and can’t meet you. It’s for your own good and he hopes you realise that he’ll never come for you and to you again.

When Christmas eve arrives, he personally watches you from afar. Just like always, you arrive at 3 in the afternoon and wait patiently until the evening. But this time, he sees Draken approaching you and scolding you for staying outside for so long everyday.

(He could hear your conversation through the bug they placed under the bench you’re on.)

“Idiot, I told you to stop waiting.” Draken hisses, rubbing his hands together to inflict some kind of warmth.

“What if he suddenly comes here and I’m not present?” The familiar soft voice disturbs his ears and he falls in love all over again.

“Whatever….how’s your condition?” the wind blows in lieu of your answer, making the hair on Manjiro’s skin stand. What is Draken talking about? What condition of yours? He gives Kokonoi a look and the man immediately reaches for his laptop to get some kind of information.

He sees you giving Draken a piece of paper.

“It’s the second letter I wrote when we decided to make a time capsule.” Draken reaches for it hesitantly, eyebrows furrowing. “What do you want me to do with it? Read it? Read it yourself, Y/N.”

He agrees with Draken with his whole chest. Why do you even want him to read it?

But one look from you, one that Manjiro couldn’t read but Draken was able to, the latter sighs, looking up in the sky with his eyes closed.

He sees you bringing your knees up the bench, waiting for Draken to start.

Something sinister bubbles inside Manjiro’s chest, feeling like death knocking on his doorstep again.

“Y/N, let’s…let’s just go.” he hears Draken plead in a whisper. But you shook your head with a smile. “I want it to be here…please.” you plead, levelling his volume. Draken breathes in shakily, biting the inside of his cheek, holding his tears back.

“Dear whoever is reading this, Are you the one reading this, Jiro? Or maybe Draken? Maybe even Taka? Whoever it is, hello! I’m L/N Y/N, Jiro’s soulmate. It’s been twelve years, huh? I wonder how everyone is doing? Is everyone happy despite Toman being disbanded? Are me and Jiro still with each other?”

Draken pauses, taking a breath. Manjiro closes his eyes and apologises to you in his mind again.

“Though…there’s a part of me hoping that we’re not together anymore.”

That got Manjiro opening his eyes. Did he hear that right? Were you hoping to break up with him all those years ago? Why? He’s confused and lost.

“You know, I want to apologise for letting you inside my life. I never wanted to be the cause of your grief.”

Manjiro refuses to believe what he’s hearing. He’s sure you and Draken know there’s a bug under the bench and decide to prank him.

“I’m sorry for not telling you about my condition.”

He sees you slowly leaning towards Draken as if getting unconscious.

“I’m sorry for suddenly leaving because I wanted you to forget about me. I wanted you to forget that L/N Y/N existed in your lives.”

Before he knows it, he’s getting out of the car, frantic footsteps taking him to where you are.

“But hey, always remember this. I want you to remember this, L/N Y/N”

Manjiro starts running, wanting to catch you in his arms before you completely close your eyes and let your body fall on Draken who’s now crying silently as he proceeds to read the last part of your letter, ignoring the fact that you’re slowly slipping away from life besides him, granting your wish.

“Sano Manjiro, your Jiro, will always be your soulmate.”

And because it is kinder than goodbye and the three words,

“Let’s see each other again in another lifetime or timeline, Jiro.”

He catches your head before it completely collides with Draken’s shoulder. The latter wasn’t even surprised at his sudden appearance as if he knew that he was watching, that he was going to come.

Draken says nothing, opting to cry silently to himself as he ignores Manjiro who’s now holding your body against him, desperately seeking your warmth.

“Y/N, love…love I’m here, wake up.” he says, gently shaking you, cupping your cheek with his bony fingers. “I’m sorry for taking so long but I’m here, love. Baby, please open your eyes.” he pleads, voice shaking.

“Please…not you, too. Not yet…” he already lost too many, he’s not going to lose you, too. “Come on, baby, it’s almost Christmas.” he whispers.

Silence answered him along with the rapidly decreasing temperature of your body and he breaks.

He breaks and he holds you tight against him as if you’ll disappear more than you already are.

A few metres away from where they are, the clock in the city rings, indicating the day of Christmas.

A few metres away from the city where the clock strikes twelve to celebrate Christmas, a drowned guttural scream covered in grief and madness goes unheard as the person holds his lover's dead body.

He was never meant to be saved by you. He was always meant to be saved by another.

But you.

You were always never meant to be saved.

No matter which timeline.

Were you?

A/N: hoped you enjoy this sudden angst from me. author regrets everything (nothing)

@bontensbabygirl

PS: i'm not sure if you want to be tag in my future works besides the "brother, i'm here" but just in case, do tell me if you don't want to! thank you queen<3

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers fic #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers spoiler #sano manjiro angst #sano manjiro x reader #sano manjiro x y/n #mikey x reader #xiefuyu's

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