#[ but hes really hoping the look he caught is real ] | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

alittlegiraffe · 1 day ago

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"Never That" - Part 2

It had been a quiet day—too quiet.

After the storm of the past 48 hours, you figured things were finally dying down. You and Marshall had spent most of the day just lounging around, ignoring the Internet, ignoring the noise.

But peace never lasted long in your world.

Because that evening, as you curled up on the couch, scrolling absentmindedly, you saw it.

A clip.

Tabitha’s boyfriend had entered the chat.

You tapped the video, already bracing yourself.

He was sitting in his car, recording himself like he thought he was about to drop the hottest take of the century.

"Man, I don’t give a fuck what Em says. Y’all really think he never cheated? Come on now. He was on all kinds of shit back then. You think his wife really knows everything? That’s cute. But let’s be real—she was probably turnin’ a blind eye. That’s what these rapper wives do, right? She just played her role."

You blinked.

You actually had to replay it because you couldn’t believe this random man had the audacity to come for you like that.

Your blood ran hot as you scrolled through the comments.

@fan543: Not him making this his problem. Sit down, sir.

@nobodyasked: Why he acting like he was THERE?

@yallhedead: He really just said Em’s wife ‘played her role’ like she isn’t the reason his entire life is together. Hope he enjoys getting cooked next.

Your jaw clenched as you set your phone down. You knew Marshall wasn’t gonna like this.

And right on cue, his voice came from behind you.

“The fuck is this bullshit?”

You turned to see him standing there, arms crossed, jaw tight. He had that look—eyes cold, mouth pressed into a thin line, fingers twitching like he wanted to put them through a wall.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Tabitha’s boyfriend. He thinks he’s relevant.”

Marshall scoffed. “Yeah? Thinks he’s got me figured out?”

You shrugged. “Apparently, I just ‘played my role.’”

That really set him off.

His nostrils flared as he took a slow breath, the kind he used when he was trying really hard not to explode. “Ain’t no role to play,” he muttered. “You held my ass together when I was comin’ apart. You put up with my bullshit. You built this family. So for some random motherfucker to act like you just stood there, smilin’ and ignorin’ shit—”

His voice cut off, his fists clenching at his sides.

You stood, placing a hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat thudding against your palm. “Breathe, baby.”

His eyes softened just a fraction as he exhaled, his hands coming up to your waist, gripping you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded. “I’m so fuckin’ sick of these people talkin’ like they know us.”

You smirked, rubbing slow circles into his chest. “So what are you gonna do about it?”

Marshall tilted his head, a dark, familiar glint in his eye.

“Oh, he wants attention? Cool.” He pulled away, already heading for the studio. “I’ll give him some.”

And just like that, the war had escalated.

Tabitha’s boyfriend had no idea what was coming.

Marshall was already halfway to the studio when you caught up to him, your fingers curling around his wrist.

"Baby," you murmured, pulling him to a stop.

His jaw was still tight, his breath sharp through his nose. “Nah, fuck that. He wants to run his mouth? I’ll—”

You stepped in close, tilting your head up to meet his stormy gaze. “You’ll what? Spend all night in that booth instead of in bed with me?”

His expression flickered, the fight in his eyes momentarily replaced with something else. Something hungry.

You pressed your palms against his chest, feeling the tension thrumming beneath his skin. “Come to bed,” you coaxed. “Use your mouth for something more useful.”

Marshall’s hands flexed at his sides. He was right there, balancing between fury and surrender.

So you pushed up onto your toes, brushing your lips against his jaw. “Please.”

That was all it took.

He exhaled sharply, then grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers with his as he turned back toward the bedroom.

Because no diss track, no petty Internet drama, nothing was more important than you.

—

The Next Morning

You woke up slow, warm and sore in the best way, Marshall’s arm draped over your waist, his face buried against the back of your neck.

For a moment, everything was good. Quiet.

Then your phone buzzed.

And buzzed.

You sighed, stretching an arm out to grab it off the nightstand. The moment you unlocked the screen, your stomach dropped.

Tabitha and her boyfriend had released photos.

You sat up so fast that Marshall groaned behind you, shifting in his sleep.

Your eyes flicked over the images flooding social media.

Shots of Marshall and Tabitha—on set, on his tour bus, in his dressing room.

The captions were worse.

@messyblog: Looks like she wasn’t lying after all…

@industrytea: So if nothing happened, why were they so cozy?

@randomuser: Y’all still think wifey isn’t just playing her role?

Your chest tightened.

The pictures didn’t prove anything, but they were intimate. Some were taken when he clearly wasn’t paying attention, others when he was laughing, leaning just close enough to look bad.

It was a setup. A calculated hit.

And the Internet was eating it up.

A groggy voice mumbled against your shoulder, “What’s goin’ on?”

You turned your head to see Marshall blinking blearily at you, his arm still heavy around your waist. He noticed your phone, your expression—then he sat up, rubbing his face. “Shit. What now?”

You handed him the phone without a word.

As his eyes scanned the screen, his entire body went rigid. His grip on the phone tightened, his jaw locking into place.

Silence.

Then—

“…These motherfuckers.”

---

You couldn’t stop thinking about the photos.

No matter how many times you told yourself they didn’t prove anything, they still gnawed at the back of your mind. The way Marshall’s arm was slung around Tabitha’s shoulders, the way she was tucked against his side in some of them, like she belonged there. Like she was his.

It shouldn’t have bothered you—not after all these years, not after everything you and Marshall had survived. But old insecurities had a way of creeping back in, whispering in your ear like they never really left.

Maybe because back then, you had assumed.

You never caught him. Never had proof. Never let yourself look too closely. But when he was on drugs, when he was disappearing for days, when the world around you was a blur of late nights and bad decisions, you’d believed he’d done it.

That he’d cheated.

That he’d fucked up in more ways than one.

And now—seeing those pictures, seeing how easy it looked, how comfortable they seemed together—your mind started playing tricks on you.

What if you’d been right all along?

What if he just got better at hiding it?

You hated yourself for thinking it.

But that didn’t stop the weight in your chest, the sick feeling curling in your stomach as you sat on the couch, phone in hand, staring blankly at the same images over and over again.

You barely registered Marshall pacing in the other room, cursing under his breath as he made phone calls, trying to shut it all down.

You barely heard the notifications still rolling in, the online debate raging between those who believed the photos and those who didn’t.

All you could hear was that small, cruel voice in the back of your mind.

What if?

You couldn’t shut your brain off.

The images were burned into your mind, no matter how hard you tried to shake them.

So you did the only thing you could do.

You avoided Marshall.

It wasn’t intentional at first—just small things. Grabbing your coffee and slipping out of the kitchen before he could sit down. Finding something—anything—to do in another room when he walked in. Keeping your phone in your hand like a lifeline, scrolling aimlessly, pretending you were fine.

But as the day went on, it became more obvious.

Marshall noticed.

Of course he did.

Every time he tried to talk to you, you found an excuse to be somewhere else. When he reached for you, you leaned away like you hadn’t seen it. When he caught your eye, you looked down, your stomach twisting into knots.

It wasn’t fair to him.

You knew that.

But you felt unraveled.

Like all the security, all the trust you’d built over the years was suddenly fragile, slipping through your fingers. It wasn’t about now, not really. It was about then. About all the times you convinced yourself not to ask, not to push, not to dig too deep.

Now, you couldn’t stop wondering.

What if you had?

What would you have found?

You were in the bedroom, folding a load of laundry you didn’t even remember starting, when you heard footsteps behind you.

You didn’t turn.

Didn’t have to.

“Alright,” Marshall said, voice tight. “You gonna tell me what the fuck is goin’ on?”

You swallowed hard, keeping your hands busy, smoothing out the fabric in front of you. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

The edge in his voice made your chest tighten. You heard him exhale sharply, like he was trying to keep himself from snapping.

“You’ve been avoiding me all day,” he said. “You won’t look at me, won’t talk to me—what the fuck am I supposed to think?”

You hesitated, gripping the shirt in your hands a little too tightly. “I just… I need a minute.”

“A minute?” He let out a humorless laugh. “A minute for what?”

You shook your head, pressing your lips together. You couldn’t say it.

Because if you did—if you gave voice to the thoughts rattling around in your skull—it would make them real.

And you weren’t sure you could handle that.

“I’ve got to put the clothes away,” you muttered, turning toward the dresser, your hands trembling slightly as you stacked another folded shirt. “And start lunch.”

Marshall exhaled sharply through his nose. “Are you fuckin’ serious right now?”

You didn’t answer. Just reached for another piece of laundry, hoping he’d let it go. Hoping he’d drop it.

But he didn’t.

Instead, his patience snapped.

Before you could react, he grabbed the clothes from your hands and threw them into the hallway, the fabric scattering across the floor.

You gasped, turning in shock, but before you could say a word, he reached past you and slammed the bedroom door shut.

And then—

You were against the wall.

Your back hit the surface with a soft thud, your breath caught in your throat as Marshall caged you in, both hands pressed flat beside your head. His body was inches from yours, heat radiating off him, his chest rising and falling hard.

But it was his eyes that made your stomach drop.

That piercing, ice-blue stare, darkened with frustration, with something unrelenting. Something that told you he wasn’t letting this go.

“What the fuck is goin’ on with you?” he demanded, voice low, rough.

You swallowed hard, your palms flattening against the wall behind you. “I told you, I—”

“No.” His voice was sharp, cutting. “No more excuses. No more runnin’ away. You think I don’t see what you’re doin’?”

You tried to look away, but he wasn’t having it.

His fingers tilted your chin up, forcing your eyes to meet his. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Your throat tightened. Your heart pounded.

You weren’t ready for this.

But Marshall wasn’t giving you a choice.

Your throat locked up. The words sat heavy on your tongue, stuck, refusing to come out.

Marshall’s hand was still on your chin, still forcing you to meet his eyes, but you shook your head. “I can’t.”

His brows pulled together. “Can’t what?”

“I just—” You exhaled sharply, trying to slip past him, but he didn’t budge. He never budged when it came to you.

His voice softened, frustration giving way to something raw, something pleading. “Baby, I can’t fix what I don’t know.”

That was all it took to break you.

The dam inside you cracked, then shattered, and suddenly everything you’d been holding in came rushing to the surface.

“I don’t—” Your voice cracked, thick with emotion. You squeezed your eyes shut, as if that would stop the words from spilling out. “I don’t compare to them, Marshall.”

His body stiffened. “What?”

You shook your head, your hands trembling as you pushed at his chest, needing space, needing air. “I see the pictures. I see the way she was with you, and it’s so fucking easy to believe it, because—because look at her. Look at all of them. Look at the women you’ve been around, the ones in your videos, the ones at parties. I’m not—”

You sucked in a shaky breath, your vision blurring.

“I’m not that girl,” you whispered.

Marshall’s face was unreadable, but his fingers curled tighter into fists at his sides. “The fuck does that mean?”

You swallowed, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not—” Your lips trembled. “I’m not pretty enough. I’m too quiet. I don’t— I don’t know how to be like them. I’m just—” You broke off, wrapping your arms around yourself, willing the ache in your chest to stop.

“Forgettable.”

The word fell from your lips, and saying it out loud made it real.

A sharp breath left Marshall’s lungs, like you’d physically hit him.

Then—

“Forgettable?”

His voice was hoarse, disbelieving, but laced with something furious.

His hands came up, gripping your arms, tight, forcing you to see him, to hear him. “You think I could ever fuckin’ forget you?” His voice shook, his blue eyes burning into yours. “You think any of them ever meant a damn thing compared to you?”

You blinked rapidly, fighting fresh tears. “I don’t—”

“You don’t what?” His fingers flexed, like he was trying to ground himself. “Don’t believe me?”

You wanted to. God, you wanted to. But the insecurities, the doubts, the ghosts of the past—they were loud.

And right now, you didn’t know how to silence them.

Marshall's grip on your arms tightened for a second, like he was afraid you'd slip away—not physically, but into your own head, into the dark place he hated seeing you go.

His jaw clenched, his breathing ragged. "Nah. Fuck that."

You flinched at the sharpness in his voice, but he didn’t let you turn away.

"You don't what?" he demanded again, his blue eyes burning into yours. "You don’t believe me? You think I could look at anybody else the way I look at you? That I could touch anyone else the way I touch you?"

You squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head. “It’s not about that—”

“Then what?” His voice cracked slightly, frustration bleeding into desperation. “What is it? What the fuck do I have to do to make you see what I see?”

You hated this.

Hated how messy you felt, how vulnerable, how the past still had claws in you after all these years.

But it poured out anyway.

“I just—” Your breath shuddered. “I see the way people look at me, Marshall. I know I don’t fit the part. I was never supposed to be her. The one who gets the fucking fairytale with the famous rapper. The one who—” You cut yourself off, arms wrapping tighter around yourself. "I see these women, and they’re—God, they’re beautiful, they know what to say, how to act, how to fit in your world. And I—" Your voice faltered. "I don't."

The confession felt ugly and small, but it was the truth.

Marshall exhaled, running a rough hand down his face. When he looked at you again, his expression had shifted. The frustration was still there, but beneath it was something else.

Something wrecked.

He took a step closer, his voice low, hoarse. "You really think I want that shit? The flashy, loud, fake-ass, plastic women in this industry?"

You didn't answer.

"Let me tell you something." His hands came up, framing your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks. "I’ve been around all that. I lived in it. And you know what I felt?” He swallowed hard, his eyes dark with something raw. "Nothing. Not a goddamn thing."

Your chest tightened.

"But you?" His forehead pressed against yours, his breath warm against your lips. "You ruin me, baby. You always have."

Your eyes burned. “Marshall—”

“I don’t want some perfect, airbrushed, loud-ass industry chick.” His fingers tightened slightly, like he needed you to hear him. “I want you. The woman who stayed when I gave her every reason to leave. The woman who saw me at my worst and still—still—loved me. You think that’s forgettable?” His voice dropped, rough and broken. “You think you’re forgettable?”

A tear slipped down your cheek. He caught it with his thumb, shaking his head. “Nah, baby.” His lips ghosted over yours. “Never that.”

Before you could process what was happening, Marshall's hands slid down to your thighs, gripping tight as he lifted you off the ground like you weighed nothing.

A startled gasp left your lips, your hands clutching at his shoulders, but he didn’t stop. He strode across the room with purpose, eyes locked onto yours, until you were in front of the full-length mirror against the wall.

Then—he set you down, his hands gripping your hips, keeping you there, standing between him and your reflection.

You tried to turn away. He didn’t let you.

His arms wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you flush against his chest, his chin resting on your shoulder as he stared into the mirror.

"Look." His voice was low, steady—but there was an edge to it. One that told you he wasn't letting you run from this.

You swallowed hard, eyes flicking up reluctantly.

All you saw was you. A little messy, a little worn down from the day, your face still damp from tears, your shoulders slightly hunched—like you were bracing for something.

Marshall shook his head behind you, like he could read your thoughts. His hands moved, palms skimming up your stomach, over your ribs, to rest just below your collarbone.

"You wanna know what I see?" His lips brushed against the shell of your ear, his breath warm, sending a shiver down your spine.

You didn't answer. Couldn't.

"I see the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on." His voice was firm, like it was an undeniable fact. "I see the woman who’s kept me alive more times than I can count. The woman who’s stronger than she even fuckin’ realizes."

His fingers traced slow, deliberate patterns against your skin. "I see the eyes that have never looked at me with anything but love, even when I didn’t deserve it. The lips that speak the only truth I ever believe. The hands that—" He exhaled sharply. "The hands that held me together when I was falling the fuck apart."

Your chest ached, your throat tight.

"Look at yourself, baby," he murmured. "Really look."

You did.

And for the first time, you tried to see what he saw.

Not the insecurities. Not the doubts. Just you. The woman who had been at his side for decades, through the worst storms, the ugliest nights. The one he still chose, every single day.

Marshall pressed a kiss to your neck, then met your eyes in the mirror.

"You ain't forgettable," he whispered. "You're fuckin’ unforgettable."

Marshall’s hands stilled on your body, his chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath, his blue eyes never leaving yours. The weight of his gaze was intense, like he was trying to etch his soul into yours. His voice, when it came, was low—soft, but laced with something vulnerable that you hadn’t heard from him in a long time.

“You know how long I’ve been in love with you?” His voice cracked just a little, but he didn’t look away.

You blinked, your breath caught, a small tremor running through you as he pulled you closer, his forehead resting against yours.

“Since Jr. High,” he continued, his thumb brushing over your cheek as if he were tracing the memories. “I was just a messed-up little kid, already lost before I even knew what that meant, and then you…”

He let out a quiet, almost disbelieving laugh, shaking his head as if he still couldn’t understand it. “You walked into my life like a fuckin’ hurricane of sweetness and light, and I couldn’t even wrap my head around how someone like you would even look at someone like me.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but he held up a finger, a quiet plea for silence.

“You were shy,” he said, his voice rough, almost tender now. “Quiet. Beautiful in a way that made everything else in the room fade away. You had this softness to you, a kindness that I didn’t even think existed. You shouldn’t have even looked at me, not after all the shit I’d already done, but there you were. And you—” He shook his head. “You made me feel like I wasn’t completely fucked up.”

His hands gripped your hips a little tighter, as if grounding himself in this memory, in this truth.

“I was a mess, baby. I was already lost in my own head. But somehow, I tricked you into seeing the good in me.” His voice dropped, rougher now, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke. “Even when I didn’t see it myself. Even when there was none. You saw something in me.”

Your heart ached as the rawness of his words hit you, making the walls you’d built inside start to crumble.

“I lied to myself for a long time, telling myself I didn’t need this. That I didn’t need you. But the truth is, I’ve never wanted anything more than I’ve wanted you. Not the fame, not the money, not the bullshit. You.” His lips trailed a hot path down your neck, pressing a lingering kiss there, like he was making a promise. “I’d never trade you. Not for anything. Not for some cheap plastic, fake-ass woman who couldn’t even hold a candle to you.”

You closed your eyes, your pulse racing, your breath shallow as you let his words sink in. He meant it.

Marshall pulled back slightly, lifting your chin gently with his finger, forcing your eyes to meet his. His gaze was full of sincerity—raw, unfiltered.

“I’ve loved you longer than I’ve ever known how to say,” he whispered, his lips brushing against yours. “And I’ll love you longer than I’ll ever be able to show. But I’ll try. Every single damn day, I’ll try.”

The knot in your chest loosened, just a little. You weren’t perfect. Neither of you were. But somehow, through everything, you were still here. And that—that was enough.

“Never forget that,” he murmured.

You felt the weight of the day pressing down on you, every emotion and memory feeling like too much to carry all at once. Exhaustion dragged at your limbs, the rawness of Marshall’s words still simmering inside you, but you didn’t have the strength to keep fighting.

Marshall, sensing the way you were unraveling, guided you gently to the bed, his hands still soft on your skin. You let him, not wanting to be anywhere else but in his arms, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your back.

When you laid down, he pulled the covers over both of you, wrapping his arm around you, holding you close like he had so many times before. His presence was warm, a comfort, something familiar to hold onto when everything else seemed like too much.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured softly into your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You’ve got me, always.”

You closed your eyes, breathing him in, allowing yourself to relax into the peace of his touch. And before you knew it, you drifted off to sleep, finally letting the exhaustion consume you, your body giving in to the comfort he provided.

When you woke up, the first thing you noticed was the empty space beside you. You rolled over, squinting at the clock—it was late, much later than you expected. The bed felt too large without him next to you, the cool sheets a stark contrast to the warmth that had surrounded you earlier.

You pushed yourself up, your mind groggy, but the absence of Marshall weighed on you immediately. You pulled on a loose shirt and padded down the hall, the house quiet, but there was a faint sound coming from downstairs.

Your heart dropped.

The studio.

As you made your way down the stairs, you saw Marshall’s silhouette through the glass of the studio door, his back to you as he leaned over the mixing console, deep in concentration. His hands moved quickly, the sound of a track filling the room, but it was the look on his face that stopped you cold—fury etched into every line of his posture.

You hesitated for a moment before you pushed the door open, stepping inside.

Marshall didn’t look up, but he must have sensed you there. His fingers paused on the keys, the music stopping abruptly, and finally, he turned toward you, his eyes dark with something you couldn’t quite read.

“You okay?” His voice was soft, but the edge still lingered, the anger simmering just below the surface.

You nodded, though the truth was, you were far from okay.

“I’m fine,” you said, your voice small. “Just… wondering where you went.”

Marshall exhaled, running a hand through his hair, frustration and something deeper—protectiveness—swirling in his gaze.

“They’re gonna pay,” he said, his words deliberate, dangerous. "Tabitha, her boyfriend, the whole damn lot of them. They’ll regret making you doubt yourself. Making you feel like you were never enough."

You stepped closer, feeling the heat radiating from him as he clenched his jaw.

“Marshall, please…” you started, but he cut you off, his tone rough with intent.

“No,” he said firmly. “You don’t have to say it. You don’t have to worry about me letting this go. I’m not. Not after what they did to you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the reality of his words sinking in. “Marshall, I don’t need you to fight for me. I just… I need you here.”

His eyes softened slightly, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease. He ran a hand over his face and sighed.

“I know, baby. I know.” His voice was quiet, the anger still lingering in his chest, but there was something else too. A promise. “But they will pay. And when I’m done, I’m coming back to you.”

You wanted to argue, but deep down, you knew this was how Marshall worked. He couldn’t let things like this slide—not when it came to you.

“I just need you, Marshall,” you whispered, your voice fragile.

He closed his eyes for a moment, like your words had cracked through his armor just enough to break him. When he opened his eyes again, they were full of a mix of determination and regret.

“I’m gonna make this right, baby,” he vowed. “But I swear to you, when I’m done, I’ll be right here. With you.”

You nodded, knowing there was no changing his mind. But you also knew one thing—Marshall would fight for you. And right now, that was enough to calm the storm brewing inside you.

---

Marshall didn’t come to bed that night.

You tried to sleep, curling up in the space he left behind, but every time you closed your eyes, you could hear the faint beat of the track he was working on below. You knew what he was doing. You knew how he worked.

He was crafting his revenge the only way he knew how—with his words.

By the time morning rolled around, the bed was still empty beside you. You sighed, pulling yourself up and running a hand through your hair, feeling the exhaustion in your bones. You needed to talk to him before this got out of control, before he burned everything to the ground in the way only he could.

You slipped on one of his hoodies, still heavy with his scent, and padded downstairs toward the studio. The door was cracked open now, the music off, but inside, Marshall was still there, hunched over his desk, scribbling furiously in one of his notebooks.

"Marshall?" Your voice was soft, tentative.

He didn’t stop writing immediately, his pen still moving frantically over the page, but his free hand lifted to his face, rubbing at his eyes like he was trying to shake off the fatigue.

"Did you sleep at all?" you asked, stepping closer.

He finally looked up at you, and fuck, he looked wrecked. His blue eyes were bloodshot, exhaustion heavy in the lines on his face. But more than that—there was fire in them.

"Nah," he admitted, voice rough from disuse. "Had shit to say."

You swallowed hard, glancing down at the pages scattered across the desk. You saw Tabitha’s name. Her boyfriend’s. A lot of things he probably shouldn’t say out loud, let alone put on a record.

"Marshall…" You reached out, touching his arm. He was tense, vibrating with something dangerous. "You don’t have to do this."

His eyes snapped to yours, sharp, disbelieving. "The fuck I don’t."

You sighed, kneeling beside his chair, resting your hands on his knees. "Baby, I know you wanna make them pay. I know you wanna shut them up. But is this really gonna help?"

Marshall leaned back, running a hand over his face. "I ain’t lettin’ this shit slide. They made you doubt yourself." His voice was low, but there was something devastating in it. "You really think I’m gonna let that go?"

Your chest tightened.

This wasn’t just about them. This was about you. About the way you had looked at yourself in the mirror last night and didn’t believe him. About the pain in your voice when you admitted you didn’t think you compared to the women in his past.

You exhaled, pressing your forehead to his knee. "I don’t want you to lose sleep over them, Marshall."

His hands came down to cup your face, lifting it so you had no choice but to look at him. His thumbs brushed over your cheeks, his gaze dark, dead serious.

"This ain’t about them," he murmured. "It’s about you. About makin’ sure you never question your place with me again."

Your heart clenched.

"Baby, you don’t have to—"

"I do." His grip tightened, not enough to hurt, just enough to ground you. "You’re my wife. The only woman I’ve ever fuckin’ needed. They don’t get to rewrite our history. They don’t get to make you doubt me."

You searched his face, and fuck, there was no stopping him. He had already made up his mind.

"You really think this is the best way?" you asked softly.

His lips curled, just slightly. "Sweetheart, I’ve destroyed whole careers for less."

A sigh escaped you, a tired, resigned sound. "You’re impossible."

Marshall smirked, leaning down to press a slow, lingering kiss to your lips. "And you love me for it."

Damn it.

Yeah. Yeah, you did.

Marshall barely had time to react before you grabbed his wrist, tugging him up from his chair with more strength than he expected. His brows lifted in surprise, but he didn’t resist—he never did when it came to you.

“Baby, what—?”

“You can finish later,” you cut him off, your voice firm but soft. “I didn’t sleep either. The bed was too big without you.”

His face shifted, the fire in his eyes dimming just a little, replaced by something warm. He exhaled through his nose, his fingers twitching like he was considering arguing.

But then you pulled him, and Marshall let you.

You dragged him through the house, not stopping until you reached the bedroom, where the sheets were still messy from where you had tossed and turned all night. You turned back to face him, and his gaze softened even more when he saw the exhaustion in your eyes, the way your shoulders sagged.

“You really didn’t sleep?” His voice had lost its edge, quieter now.

You shook your head. “Not without you.”

Marshall cursed under his breath, like he was pissed at himself for letting you spend the night alone while he was downstairs plotting revenge. Then, without another word, he scooped you up effortlessly, carrying you to the bed like it was second nature.

You huffed a little, but your body melted into his hold, comforted by the way he handled you like you were something precious. He climbed in with you, pulling the blankets up before wrapping himself around you completely.

You buried your face in his chest, breathing him in, his scent grounding you instantly. His arms tightened around you, his lips pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head.

“You ain’t gotta drag me nowhere, you know,” he murmured against your hair. “I’d follow you anywhere.”

Your heart clenched, but all you could do was snuggle in closer, letting his warmth soothe the tension in your body. “Good,” you mumbled, your voice muffled against his hoodie. “Because I’m not letting you go.”

Marshall exhaled, his hold on you tightening like he never wanted to let you go either.

“Never,” he whispered.

---

The rest of the morning passed in a haze of warmth and much-needed sleep. Marshall held you close the entire time, his body curved around yours, like he was making up for every second you’d spent apart the night before. When you finally woke up, the two of you had a quiet meal together—just the two of you, no tension, no words about them. Just food, soft conversation, and the kind of comfortable silence that came after years of knowing each other inside and out.

You thought, maybe, that meant Marshall had let it go.

But you should’ve known better.

A few hours later, as you lazily scrolled through Instagram on the couch, something caught your eye—a flood of posts, comments, and reactions. Your stomach twisted when you saw his name trending.

New Eminem track just dropped out of nowhere!

Marshall didn’t even warn us—HE’S BACK ON HIS DISS SHIT.

Tabitha and her man about to go into witness protection.

Your heart stuttered, your fingers tightening around your phone.

He released it.

Without a word to you.

Without even playing it for you first.

You swallowed hard, the sudden weight of it making your skin prickle.

Marshall had left the room a little while ago, holed up back in the studio. You knew he had gone to finish what he started, but he hadn’t said anything when he came back out. No smug grin, no teasing remark, no “Baby, you gotta hear this.”

Nothing.

Your pulse picked up as you searched for the track. It was everywhere already—blogs, YouTube, Twitter losing its collective shit. And when you found it, your breath caught.

“FAKE” - EMINEM

You hesitated for only a second before you hit play.

And then—

His voice hit.

Rough. Unforgiving.

Filled with venom, but controlled in a way that made it deadly.

“You want your fifteen minutes? Cool, I’ll give you five.

That’s all it takes to expose a fuckin’ lie.”

Your chest tightened as the beat kicked in, deep and menacing, the kind of track that made the air feel heavier.

“Talkin’ like you had me, like you had a piece,

Bitch, you got a pic, not a fuckin’ receipt.”

Your breath hitched. He wasn’t playing.

“Fake ass stories from a fake ass chick,

Lyin’ on my name for some clicks on a clip.”

He tore into her with precision, picking apart every detail of her claims, exposing contradictions, making it clear that she had never been anything to him.

And then—

“You made my girl doubt? Now you gotta pay.

Hope you love the attention, ‘cause you dyin’ today.”

Your stomach flipped.

It wasn’t just a diss track. It wasn’t just about them.

It was about you.

Your phone nearly slipped from your fingers as the song continued, each bar sharper than the last, slicing through the accusations, the lies, the audacity of it all. He didn’t just deny the rumors—he destroyed them.

By the time it ended, your hands were shaking.

Marshall hadn’t just defended himself.

He had defended you.

You barely registered the thousands of comments pouring in, the reactions, the chaos the track had already unleashed. All you could think about was him.

Pushing up from the couch, you didn’t even hesitate before heading straight for the studio.

You had to see him. Now.

---

Marshall didn’t even hear you come in.

He was still at the mixing board, one hand on the console, the other holding a pen he’d been mindlessly tapping against his knee. His headphones were around his neck, his focus entirely on the screen in front of him. Probably checking the reaction, watching the fallout.

He didn’t get the chance to react before you were on him.

You climbed into his lap without hesitation, straddling him, your hands burying into his hair as you crashed your lips against his.

Marshall stiffened for half a second, caught completely off guard—but then his hands were on your waist, gripping you tight, grounding himself in you. He groaned against your mouth, and the sound sent a shiver down your spine.

You kissed him hard, your fingers threading through his short hair, tugging just enough to make him hiss against your lips and his facial hair scratches against your face.

“Baby, what the—” His words were muffled as you kissed him again, stealing his breath, swallowing whatever thought he’d been about to voice.

Because fuck talking.

You needed him to feel this.

When you finally pulled back, your breathing was uneven, your lips tingling, your body wired with something you couldn’t quite name. Something raw. Something healed.

Marshall blinked up at you, still catching up, his pupils blown wide. “Jesus, babe,” he rasped. “Where the fuck did that come from?”

You swallowed, your heart pounding. “You.”

His brows furrowed, but you didn’t give him a chance to ask.

“You always protect me, Marshall,” you murmured, your fingers tracing the edge of his jaw. “But this… seeing you go nuclear over me, over what they did to me—” You exhaled shakily. “It fixed something in me I didn’t even realize was broken.”

Marshall’s expression softened, but his grip on you didn’t.

“You should’ve never doubted yourself,” he said quietly, his voice still hoarse from lack of sleep and the fire he’d just unleashed on the world. “I hate that they made you feel like that. Hate that you thought, even for a second, that I’d ever want anyone but you.”

Your throat tightened, and you leaned in, pressing your forehead to his. “I don’t anymore,” you whispered.

Marshall’s hands slid up your back, pulling you closer. “Good,” he muttered against your lips before kissing you again, this time slow, deep, like he needed to make sure the moment etched itself into you.

Like he was making damn sure you never doubted it again.

#eminem #marshall mathers #eminem x reader #marshall mathers x reader

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multific · 3 days ago

Text

Flames of Affection

Johnny Storm x Reader

Summary: Johnny Storm finds himself falling for someone who isn’t afraid of his powers or his cocky attitude.

It was a warm evening in New York, and Johnny Storm had never felt more alive.

The city’s skyline stretched out before him, with the glow of streetlights below competing with the starlit sky above. But what really caught his attention was you, sitting beside him on the rooftop of the Baxter Building, your legs dangling off the edge, a casual grin on your face.

“You know, you could’ve picked a less dramatic spot,” you teased, your voice soft, yet playful.

Johnny chuckled, his usual smirk lighting up his face. “What’s the fun in that? A rooftop view and a little danger? Perfect combo.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn't hide your smile. “You’re impossible, Johnny.” You used to fear heights. But not with Johnny. Not when you knew someone was there to catch you in case you fell.

“Maybe,” he said, nudging your shoulder with his. “But you like it.” His tone was light but had an edge of warmth, something he didn’t often show to anyone.

You glanced at him, catching the small change in his usual cocky demeanour. “I don’t know... I might be getting used to you, Storm.”

Johnny raised an eyebrow. “Used to me, huh? You sure you’re not falling for my charm?”

You leaned back on your hands, looking up at the stars. “Maybe a little.”

Johnny’s heart skipped a beat.

He wasn’t used to people talking to him like that. As if they didn’t just see the hotshot superhero but a guy who was real. A guy with flaws and desires and all the things he sometimes kept hidden behind his flames and his hero persona.

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “I’m just a guy with fire powers and a bad attitude. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“I’m not,” you said, looking at him with a knowing look. “But you’re more than that, Johnny. I see it.”

For a moment, silence fell between you both, not uncomfortable, but thoughtful. The sound of the city below was a distant hum.

Johnny’s fingers played with the hem of his jacket. “You know, most people get nervous around me. Think I might burn them alive or something.”

You looked at him, a genuine expression on your face. “I’m not most people.”

Johnny grinned. “I like that about you.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

He laughed, but it was soft, the usual fire in his voice replaced with something gentler. “You really think so?”

You nodded. “Yeah. You’re confident, sure, but you’re also...” You searched for the right word. “Real. Like, you have this mask on sometimes, but I can tell it’s not the whole story.”

He was quiet for a second, considering your words.

He never really let people see past the surface. But with you, he felt like he could, because he didn’t have to pretend.

“You’re too smart for your own good,” You smiled at him, your eyes softening. “Maybe. But I like who you are underneath.”

Johnny felt something stir in his chest, something warm that wasn’t fire but felt just as intense. “I think I like you, you know.”

“You think?” you teased, turning to face him more fully.

He met your gaze, his playful grin now genuine. “I know.”

Before you could respond, Johnny’s hand brushed against yours, the warmth of his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you.

He didn’t pull away, just let his fingers linger for a moment longer than necessary. The spark was undeniable.

You looked at him, and there was an unspoken understanding between you both. Johnny leaned in, just a little, and you did the same.

When his lips met yours, it wasn’t rushed or fiery like he expected. It was gentle, full of warmth, the kind that made his heart beat a little faster than normal.

His hand cupped the side of your face, and you responded with equal tenderness, your lips soft and inviting.

When you finally pulled away, he smiled, his usual bravado replaced with something sweeter. “Guess I wasn’t expecting that.”

You chuckled, your face flushed. “Neither was I.”

Johnny rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “So... what happens now?”

You smirked a hint of mischief in your eyes. “We keep hanging out. Keep talking and keep kissing. And see where this goes.”

“Yeah?” Johnny laughed a little. “I can get behind that.”

You leaned back again, both of you staring up at the sky, now filled with the quiet glow of the stars.

Johnny’s hand found yours, and you laced your fingers together without thinking.

There was something easy about being with him, something natural. And in that moment, it didn’t matter that Johnny Storm was a superhero with fire in his veins.

All that mattered was the connection you shared, one that was just as real as the flames he could summon with a snap of his fingers.

And it was enough.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

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mikeysonly · 2 days ago

Text

White Lies Part 4 - Nagi Seishiro

♡ part 4 is finally here hehe. part 3 didnt do that well but i hope the people that ARE reading are as invested as i was. theres one more part to this series and then its all done :( but i hope i gave you the fluffy love story you all wanted. i wanted these 2 to have a moderately mature relationship while still staying true to nagi's character so i hope i did him right by you guys. thanks for sticking w me and i hope i can get requests from you all in the future, id love to write for your faves hehe. anywayssss this was so long - happy reading. MWAAAHHH.

part 3 here

♡♡♡

Y/N and Nagi stood outside the small café where they'd just had dinner with Haruto. Their son had fallen asleep in the car, curled up in his seat, leaving the two of them alone with their unspoken thoughts.

Y/N leaned against the passenger door, readying herself for what she knew was coming. Nagi was never one to push conversations, but she could feel his gaze on her.

“So…” he finally said, voice lower than usual. “Why did you leave?”

The question was blunt… Too blunt. Uncomfortably so. Y/N let out a slow breath, staring at the pavement as if it held all the answers. It didn't.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” she admitted. “You were about to go pro, Nagi. You had scouts looking at you, a future waiting for you. I couldn’t… I couldn’t be the reason you gave it up.”

His brows furrowed. “That wasn’t your choice to make. That's actually really fucking unfair Y/N.”

Wow. He went there. “Maybe not. But back then, I didn’t think you wanted a choice. You were always so indifferent about us. I overheard you talking to Reo once, saying relationships were a ‘pain.’ And I convinced myself that meant you didn’t want this. That you wouldn’t want him. So I ran.”

Nagi exhaled sharply, running a hand through his white hair. “I was an idiot back then.”

Y/N blinked at him, caught off guard by the bluntness of his admission.

“It was easier to act like things didn’t matter than to admit that they did.” He sighed, shaking his head. “But you mattered. And if I had known about Haruto, he would’ve mattered too.”

Silence stretched between them. For the first time in a long time, Y/N let herself look at him… Like, really look. Nagi had never been one for grand gestures, but the way he had been showing up for their son, the way he had been trying… Things were different now.

“You should’ve told me,” he said after a moment, his voice softer. “But I should’ve made you feel like you could.”

“And now?” she asked, hesitant. “What do we do now?”

Nagi glanced at the car, at Haruto’s sleeping figure through the window. Then he looked at her.

“We try,” he said simply. “If you’ll let me.”

Y/N wasn't sure about anything. Why did she feel like she could trust him this time?

“…Okay,” she whispered.

Nagi reached out then, hesitant, before brushing his fingers against hers. She didn’t pull away.

"I don’t just wanna try, Y/N," he started. "I wanna be part of his life, your life."

Her lips parted, but no words came out. None of this felt real.

Nagi squeezed her hand lightly. His hands were rough, proof of all the years of hard work and training. He never gave up on that—maybe he wouldn't give up on her either.

"Okay…" she whispered.

"Let's go home, okay?"

"I'd like that, Nagi. Let's go home."

taglist: @nensi @topshotdivaa @mochiii-sama @exclusiverinaa @aztec-ahuizotil @p1z-d0n7jud6em3 @kawaisagi @umbrellagobrr @manjirosanoswifey @guiniegiyuuandrindihsucker @heartbrii venusss-ss

#blue lock #blue lock nagi #blue lock fic #blue lock manga #bllk fanart #bllk nagi #bllk manga #bllk x reader #bllk x you #bllk #blue lock x you #blue lock x reader #bllk fluff #bllk angst #nagi x reader #nagi seishiro #seishiro nagi #bllk seishiro #seishiro nagi x reader

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sirxaibs · 1 day ago

Text

Touya Todoroki X Reader

✮⋆˙ I Am Here ✮⋆˙

‼️Genuine trigger warning. ‼️ If you have a hard time with people lashing out and if panic attacks trigger you, Do Not Read.

masterlist

Does Dabi get the chance to be happy and normal? It’s after the war and he was taken back in. He really doesn’t deserve it. or so he thinks.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The world was healing. Slowly but surely, people were rebuilding their lives, picking up the broken pieces, and shaping them into something better. The war had left scars on the land, on the people, on their souls but even scars could fade with time. Dabi, or how he’s been going by since he got back, Touya, wasn’t sure if his ever would.

He watched from a distance as his family talked and laughed together. It was strange. Foreign. A sight he never thought he’d see. Natsuo nudged Shoto, who rolled his eyes but didn’t pull away. Rei placed a gentle hand on Endeavor’s arm, and even though he still looked guilty, even though he knows she shouldn’t even go near him, he let her. And then there was you.

You fit into the Todoroki family like you had always belonged. You stood beside Fuyumi, laughing at something she said, your eyes bright with warmth. You were always like that light, warmth, love. The things Touya had never believed in. The things he had never thought he deserved. Until you.

You had been his contradiction. A pro hero who should have seen him as nothing but a villain, yet you had looked at him like he was human. You had never made excuses for him, never pretended he hadn’t done terrible things, but you had seen him. And because of you, he had started to believe, just for a moment, that maybe he wasn’t beyond saving. That maybe he could be more than destruction.

But that was back then. Now, everyone was moving on. You were happy, smiling, growing. And yet, he wasn’t. He felt stuck, caught between his past and a future he wasn’t sure he had a place in. Watching you get along with his family should have made him feel… something. Hope, maybe. Comfort. Instead, all it did was remind him of how much he didn’t belong.

Years of resentment didn’t just disappear. The hatred, the anger, the loneliness. he had fed off of it for so long. Letting go of it felt like losing a part of himself. How was he supposed to just sit with them, talk with them, pretend like there weren’t decades of pain between them? And yet… he wanted to.

He wanted to be what you had been for him. A reason to believe in something better. He wanted to learn how to be a part of this family, to see if love could exist here the way it had existed with you. But it was terrifying. What if he wasn’t capable of it? What if, in the end, he was still the same broken, angry person who would never fit?

His hands clenched into fists. Maybe it was okay if he wasn’t moving on as fast as everyone else. Maybe it was okay if healing took time. Because at least now, he had a reason to try.

Touya wasn’t sure how long he stood there, watching from a distance. The laughter, the conversations, the warmth it all felt like something happening in another world, one he had no right to step into. But then you saw him. Your smile didn’t falter, didn’t hesitate. It was the same as it had always been steady, real. You said something to Fuyumi, and then, without a second thought, you started walking toward him.

Touya considered leaving. It wouldn’t have been hard. Just turn around, disappear before you could reach him. But his feet didn’t move. he was just tired of running. You stopped in front of him, tilting your head slightly, studying him the way you always did, like you were waiting for him to say something. But when he didn’t, you just sighed and reached out, grabbing his wrist with an easy familiarity.

“Come sit with us.” It wasn’t a request. It wasn’t a demand, either. It was just you, offering him a choice.

He scoffed, looking away. “not sure if i’m wanted”

His hands clenched into fists. Maybe it was okay if he wasn’t moving on as fast as everyone else. Maybe it was okay if healing took time. Because at least now, he had a reason to try.

Touya had spent so many years convinced that warmth wasn’t meant for him. That love was something distant, a thing he could only witness from the outside but never hold. But there you were right in the middle of it, smiling, laughing, belonging. And it hurt. Because it should’ve been him.

He should’ve been the one sitting at that table, the one making his mother smile, the one who could joke with his siblings like they hadn’t spent years with an ocean of silence between them. But instead, it was you someone who hadn’t grown up in their house, who hadn’t carried their burdens.

And somehow, you made it look effortless. Touya thought he could handle it. Thought he could ignore the sharp ache twisting in his chest, the way his fingers curled into his sleeves like he could claw his way through the feeling. But then your eyes found him.

Even from across the yard, even with the voices and laughter around you, you saw him. And without hesitation, you excused yourself and walked toward him. He should’ve looked away. Should’ve turned and left before you could get too close. But you were always good at pulling him in.

“Hey,” you said, stopping in front of him. The way you looked at him was so unbearably soft, so tender, it made his throat tighten. He swallowed, glancing past you at the scene behind you. “…You’re doing good with them,” he muttered.

You tilted your head. “With who?”

He huffed out a dry laugh. “My family.”

You didn’t say anything right away, just watching him like you were waiting for him to say what was really on his mind. like always, he caved under your gaze. “They like you,” he said, voice quieter this time. “Better than me, probably.”

The words felt bitter, heavy. He hadn’t meant to say them, but once they were out, he couldn’t take them back. Your brows furrowed, and before he could pull away, your hand found his wrist. Your touch was warm, grounding, and he hated how much he leaned into it.

“Touya,” you said, voice gentle but firm. “That’s not true.”

He scoffed. “Isn’t it?” His gaze flickered toward the table, toward the people who had spent years without him. “I don’t even know if they want me here.”

Your grip tightened. “They do.”

He let out a slow breath, staring at you. “And how do you know that?”

You smiled, small but sure. “Because I do. And if I do, then I know they do, too.”

Something in his chest cracked. He didn’t know how you did that. how you always knew what to say, how you could make him believe in something better, even when everything inside him screamed that he shouldn’t.

“…You’re annoying,” he muttered.

You grinned. “And yet, here you are.”

He sighed, long and slow. The weight in his chest didn’t disappear, but it felt a little easier to carry with you standing there, holding onto him like he was worth something.

“Come sit with me,” you said, voice quieter now, more personal. A request just for him. And this time, he let you lead him forward. “I think you’d be surprised.” Your voice was soft, patient. You always had too much of that when it came to him. He wanted to argue, to push you away like he had done a thousand times before. But he didn’t. Maybe it was because he was tired. it was because, deep down, he knew you wouldn’t stop until he at least tried. it was because a part of him wanted to believe you were right. With a heavy sigh, he let you pull him forward. The conversation stilled slightly as the two of you approached. He could feel the weight of their eyes on him. his family, the people he had spent years hating, resenting, fighting. His shoulders tensed on instinct, waiting for something to go wrong. But nothing did.

Fuyumi was the first to speak, her voice light but careful. “Touya, do you want anything to eat? We made enough for everyone.”

He almost laughed at the absurdity of it. A dinner invitation, like this was normal. Like he was just some estranged brother finally coming home. He hesitated, glancing at you. Your fingers were still wrapped around his hand, a quiet anchor.

“…Yeah,” he muttered, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Sure.”

Natsuo smirked slightly, but there was no malice in it. “Guess miracles do happen.”

Touya rolled his eyes but didn’t snap back. The tension in his chest eased just a little. You smiled at him, giving his wrist one last squeeze before letting go. The absence of your touch made something inside him twist, but he ignored it. This wasn’t easy. It wasn’t comfortable. But maybe it didn’t have to be.

————————————

days weren’t always easy, there’s always a breaking Point. You could feel it before it happened the way the tension in his body coiled too tight, his breathing coming in sharp, uneven pulls. It was like standing beside a storm, knowing the winds were about to tear through everything in their path. Touya had been unraveling all day.

It started with the small things. His hands shaking when he thought no one was looking. The way he flinched at casual touches, like his own body didn’t know how to exist in this space. How his words had grown quieter, like he was sinking further into himself. You had been here before. You knew the signs. So when night fell and the house was quiet, you didn’t leave him alone. You sat beside him in his room, letting the silence stretch between you. Not pushing, not forcing just being there.

But then his hands went to his head, fingers digging into his hair as his breathing hitched, and you knew it was starting. “Touya,” you murmured, reaching out slowly, carefully.

He let out a sharp, ragged breath, shaking his head. “I—I can’t—” His voice broke, and then it all came crashing down. He folded in on himself, arms wrapping around his body like he could hold himself together, but it wasn’t working. His shoulders trembled, his breath came too fast, too shallow.

“Hey, I’ve got you,” you whispered, placing your hands over his. “You’re okay. Just breathe with me, alright?”

He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head violently. “I don’t— I don’t know how to do this,” he gasped. “I don’t know how to be here.” His voice cracked on the last word, and it hit you like a punch to the chest.

You moved closer, gently pulling his hands away from his hair before he could bruise himself. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now,” you said softly. “Just stay with me. Just for this moment.” His body shook, his breaths ragged and uneven. He looked lost. Broken. And it killed you.

And then the door creaked open.

“Touya—?”

Shoto.

Touya’s entire body went rigid. His breath hitched, and the raw vulnerability in his expression shattered into something unreadable. Panic. Shame. Fear. Shoto froze in the doorway, eyes wide with uncertainty. He hadn’t meant to intrude. He had probably just been checking in, but it was too late.

Touya ripped himself away from you so fast it nearly knocked you back. He stumbled to his feet, fists clenched so tightly his nails dug into his skin.

“Get out,” he rasped, voice wrecked.

Shoto didn’t move. His gaze flickered to you, then back to his brother. He took a hesitant step forward. “Touya, I—”

“Get out!” Touya roared, voice cracking under the weight of it. His breathing was harsh, erratic, like he was barely holding himself together. His entire body was trembling, and you could see it that look in his eyes. He was spiraling. You stood quickly, placing yourself between them before things could get worse. “Touya, look at me.”

He didn’t. He just stared past you, chest rising and falling too fast, hands shaking like he didn’t know whether to run or lash out.

“They don’t want me here,” he whispered, voice breaking apart. His gaze was unfocused, distant. “They never did. I should’ve just—” He cut himself off, but you knew what he was about to say. I should’ve just stayed gone.

Shoto’s expression twisted, something like hurt flashing across his face. “That’s not true.”

Touya let out a hollow, bitter laugh, but it sounded more like a sob. You turned back to him, slowly reaching for his hands. “You’re not alone in this,” you said softly. “I promise.”

For a moment, he didn’t move. His hands twitched, fingers curling slightly like he wanted to believe you. But the storm inside him was still raging, and you weren’t sure if he could hear you over the roar of it.

Shoto took another step forward. “Touya—”

“Stop saying my name like that! YOU have no rig by to be using my name like that” Touya’s voice cracked, and before you could stop him, he stumbled back, pressing his hands to his head. His breathing hitched, and then his knees buckled. You caught him before he could hit the ground.

“Touya, breathe,” you pleaded, holding onto him tightly. His body was shaking so badly it scared you. “Just stay with me. I’ve got you.”

His fingers clutched desperately at your arms, like he was trying to ground himself in something anything. And then, finally, finally, he let himself sink into you. You looked up at Shoto, who still stood frozen in the doorway, conflict and concern written all over his face.

“Give us a minute,” you murmured, your voice steady but gentle.

Shoto hesitated, then nodded, stepping back and quietly shutting the door behind him.

You turned your attention back to Touya, running a hand through his hair as he buried his face against your shoulder. His breath was uneven, but it was slowing, bit by bit.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he whispered, voice hoarse, exhausted.

“I know,” you murmured. “But you don’t have to do it alone.”

He didn’t say anything, but the way he clung to you told you enough.

You held him tighter, whispering quiet reassurances into his hair.

Touya didn’t move for a long time. His breathing was still uneven, his body still trembling, but he didn’t pull away. He just stayed there, curled against you like he was afraid to let go.

You kept running your fingers through his hair, slow and steady, grounding him. “I’m here,” you murmured, voice soft. “I’ve got you.”

His grip on your shirt tightened. “I don’t—” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard. “I don’t know how to fix this.”

You pulled back slightly, just enough to see his face. His eyes were red rimmed, unfocused, still swimming with emotion. Still hurting. “You don’t have to have all the answers right now,” you said gently.

He exhaled shakily, looking past you. “I’m never gonna be what they want.”

Your heart twisted. “You don’t have to be anything for them. You just have to be here.”

He scoffed, but there wasn’t as much heat behind it. “Yeah? Shoto doesn’t even want me here.”

You sighed. “Shoto’s just awkward. You know he’s already bad at approaching people in general.”

Touya let out a breath, something that wasn’t quite a laugh, but not as bitter as before. “That’s not fair. He tries.”

You raised a brow. “So now you’re defending him?”

He frowned slightly, but you could see the shift. The way his hands weren’t shaking as much. How his breath wasn’t quite as ragged.

“He just, he’s got a lot of shit to figure out too, alright?” Touya muttered. “It’s not like this is easy for him either.”

You couldn’t help it you smiled. Because there it was. He cares. Touya caught the look on your face and immediately scowled. “What?”

You shook your head, amused. “Nothing.”

His frown deepened. “That was not a ‘nothing’ face.”

You just kept smiling, squeezing his hand. “I’m just glad you’re here.” His breath hitched, and for a moment, he looked like he was about to argue. But then he exhaled, letting himself lean into you again, just slightly.

“…Yeah,” he muttered. “Okay.”

He just sat there, pressed against you, his breath slow and uneven but gradually steadying. The weight of everything still hung heavy between you, but the worst of the storm had passed.

You didn’t rush him. You didn’t try to force him to talk or move before he was ready. You just stayed there, one hand resting in his hair, the other loosely intertwined with his fingers. Eventually, his grip tightened.

“…You always do this,” he muttered, voice quiet, hoarse from earlier.

You hummed. “Do what?”

“Stay.” His fingers twitched in yours, like he was trying to put more words to it but couldn’t.

You smiled softly, pressing your forehead against his temple. “Of course I do.”

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“What doesn’t?”

His shoulders tensed. “You. This. Us.” He pulled back just enough to look at you, blue eyes searching yours, raw and unguarded. “I was a villain. I hurt people. I” He swallowed hard. “I hurt you.”

Your heart ached, but not for the reasons he probably thought. “Touya,” you murmured, cupping his face in your hands. He stiffened at the touch but didn’t pull away. You brushed your thumb along the rough, scarred skin of his cheek. “I know who you were. But I also know who you are.”

His breath hitched. His hands curled around your wrists, holding you there, like he was afraid you’d slip away.

“You love so much,” you whispered. “Even when you try not to. Even when you don’t realize it.”

He let out a shaky exhale, leaning into your touch despite himself. “I don’t know how to be what you deserve.”

You smiled, soft and certain. “You already are.”

His eyes widened, and for a second, something in them cracked open something vulnerable, something real. Then, slowly, carefully, he pressed his forehead against yours. His hands slid up to cup the sides of your face, fingers trembling slightly, like he was still afraid this wasn’t real.

“…I love you,” he murmured, the words barely more than a breath.

Your chest tightened. Not because you doubted it, but because you had always known. Even when he was fighting it. Even when he thought he wasn’t capable of love at all.

You smiled, tilting your head just enough to brush your nose against his. “I love you too.”

He let out a shaky breath, something between a sigh and a laugh. Then, without another word, he closed the space between you, pressing his lips to yours gentle, uncertain, but there.

And for the first time in a long time, Touya let himself believe in something good.

The Next Step

The morning was quiet.

The house had settled into a strange kind of peace—the kind that only comes after a storm. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t fixed. But it was something.

You stood off to the side of the courtyard, watching as Touya—Dabi—approached Shoto. His movements were tense, like he was forcing himself forward before his instincts could tell him to run.

Shoto, for his part, had been lingering outside as well. He had been expecting this. You could tell by the way his posture straightened when he noticed Touya walking toward him.

You stayed back, letting them have their space.

Touya shoved his hands into his pockets, shoulders stiff. “Look, I—” He sighed, tilting his head back like he hated every second of this. “I was a dick last night.”

Shoto blinked, clearly caught off guard by how fast that came out. “You were upset,” he said simply.

Touya huffed. “That’s not an excuse.” He kicked at the ground. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

Shoto studied him for a moment before nodding. “Okay.”

Touya’s eye twitched. “Okay?”

Shoto shrugged. “I accept your apology.”

Touya stared at him, as if waiting for something else—for Shoto to fight him on it, to dig into him like their father would have. But he didn’t.

And that was probably more jarring than anything.

You watched as the tension in Touya’s shoulders lessened, even if just slightly.

“…Alright then,” he muttered.

Shoto hesitated before glancing your way. “Did they put you up to this?”

You grinned, resting your chin on your hand. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Touya rolled his eyes, shoving past Shoto. “I’m going inside before this gets any more sentimental.”

You clapped your hands together, stepping forward before he could escape. “Actually, I was thinking we should go get ice cream.”

Both brothers froze. Shoto blinked at you, as if trying to process whether he heard you correctly. Touya turned back slowly, brow furrowing. “What?”

“Ice cream,” you repeated cheerfully. “You know, that sweet, frozen treat people eat when they need to cool off? I think we all deserve some after last night.”

Touya’s nose scrunched. “That’s what?” He glanced at Shoto, who looked equally at a loss. “girl i swear to god-”

You shrugged.

Shoto shifted awkwardly, clearly not opposed to the idea but also not sure how to respond. “…I like ice cream,” he said after a long pause.

Touya narrowed his eyes at him. “You would.”

Shoto frowned. “What does that mean?”

Touya just sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “Fine. Whatever. Let’s just go before you start making this worse.”

You beamed, throwing your arms around both of them before they could protest. “Great! My treat.”

Shoto stiffened slightly at the sudden contact, while Touya made a noise of protest, trying to wiggle out of your hold.

“…This is already worse,” he muttered.

You only grinned wider.

——

The three of you stood in front of the ice cream display, the cold air from the freezer fogging up the glass as you debated your choices. “This place has too many options,” Touya muttered, staring at the menu like it had personally offended him. “Why do people need this many flavors?”

Shoto, scanning the choices with an alarming level of concentration, replied, “Variety is good.”

“Not when it makes decisions harder.”

You hummed, tilting your head as you leaned into Touya’s shoulder just slightly. “What, having trouble picking? Want me to decide for you?”

Touya scoffed, but he didn’t move away. “Like hell I’d trust you with that.”

You smirked. “Come on, I’d pick something good.”

“You’d pick something ridiculous.”

You gasped in mock offense, nudging him with your hip. “I would not.”

He gave you a dry look. “I can literally see you considering the weirdest flavor here.” You grinned but said nothing, because he wasn’t wrong.

Shoto, still deep in thought, finally spoke. “Pistachio is good.”

Both you and Touya turned to look at him.

“That’s a weird choice,” Touya said bluntly.

Shoto frowned. “No, it isn’t.”

“Who even gets pistachio?”

“A lot of people.”

Touya made a face, crossing his arms. “Sounds fake.”

You laughed under your breath, barely stopping yourself from leaning into him again. He was still stiff in public, but the way his arm was just barely brushing yours told you he didn’t mind.

“Well, I think I’m getting cookies and cream,” you said, glancing back at the menu. “What about you, Touya?”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I dunno. Maybe vanilla.”

You gave him a look. “Vanilla?”

“What’s wrong with vanilla?”

“Nothing,” you said, clearly lying. “It’s just… safe.”

Touya rolled his eyes. “Not everything needs to be crazy like you”

“Boring,” you teased, bumping his arm lightly.

Shoto, seemingly ignoring the entire exchange, suddenly said, “We should have gone somewhere that serves soba.”

Both you and Touya turned to him again. Touya stared. “What?”

Shoto looked completely serious. “Soba is good.”

Touya let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “You’re a freak.”

Shoto didn’t even flinch. “You just ordered a boring flavour.”

“…Tch.” Touya clicked his tongue but had no argument.

You chuckled, stepping forward to finally place your order. “Alright, alright, let’s get our ice cream. And maybe next time, Shoto, we’ll take you to a soba shop instead.”

Shoto nodded, as if that was the best idea he had heard all day.

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boxofancientdaydreams · 1 day ago

Text

Splash!

Lee Chan (Dino) x gn!reader (no gendered pronouns used)

Genre: fluff

Word count: ~ 1400

Warnings: not proofread, none (maybe mention of the word weaponry?) Please let me know if I forgot anything.

Summary: Reader is enjoying their day off, when they get hit by a water balloon. Chaos ensues

Note: Just a little something I wrote while trying to get back into writing. I hope you enjoy :)

As always: English isn’t my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

Feedback is greatly appreciated :)

Please note that this story is fictional and not meant to represent any Seventeen members in real life!

‚I could definitely get used to living like this,‘ you mused to yourself as you wandered around, a cool drink in hand and sunglasses placed high on the bridge of your nose.

This was your first day off in weeks, and you planned to make the most of it. After your walk you could go to that store you had wanted to visit for a while now, maybe see a movie or read a book in a quiet café. The rays of the sun felt warm on your skin and you felt yourself relax even more.

Besides the rare chirping of birds and buzzing of insects, it remained mostly quiet around you. Your thoughts began to wander as your feet lead you further along the flowers and trees. The park was bathed in the golden light of the star above you, and the occasional passerby would tilt their face towards the sky as if to soak up its warmth.

A loud yell from somewhere to your left barely gave you time to react before you were hit with something cold and wet. The wetness spread from the place you were hit all over your side – and the drink you were enjoying was now a mess all over the floor in front of you. After a few seconds of what felt like your heart beating out of your chest, your eyes naturally drifted to your now wet clothes and then to the floor, where you discovered what looked like the blue remains of a popped water balloon.

Your gaze was caught by a man sheepishly walking up to you. His brows were pulled together, and he carried a guilty expression on his face. His blond hair stuck to his forehead and his clothes – much like yours – were soaked through.

“I’m so sorry! We didn’t watch where we were throwing, and then you were there, and now you’re wet and it's all our fault,” he continued his apologetic rambling without letting you get as much as a word in. The tip of his ears turning redder by the second. He was carrying a water gun, tucked away in the pocket of his shorts.

As your gaze flickered past him, you spotted what seemed to be his friends, standing by a bucket probably filled with more water balloons. The one closer to you had long blonde hair, reaching just beyond his shoulders, while the other guy had short, dark hair and was wearing what seemed like a tiger-print shirt.

When your eyes returned to the man in front of you, you realized he was still talking – now gesturing nervously, “Again, I’m so sorry – really!” he stammered, now touching the back of his neck, “we should have paid better attention to our surroundings and now we’ve probably ruined your day. I told them it was stupid to hold a water fight in a public place, but they wouldn’t listen to me and…”

You couldn’t stop the corners of your lips from lifting and before you realized it, you were fully laughing and giggling at the absurd situation you found yourself in. Luckily, this seemed to at last stop the rambling of the guy in front of you as he nervously chuckled along with you.

“Are you going to yell at me…?” he questioned, still nervously laughing while looking unsure.

When you eventually managed to stop your giggles, you still couldn’t help but smile at the handsome man in front of you. Even though he had derailed your plans for today so suddenly, you didn’t have it in you to be mad at him. Not when he looked so cute with his ears all red and the blush coating his cheeks. You decided to play with him a little more.

“Hmm, I’m not sure yet. I mean, you did get me wet”, you replied. You saw his eyes widen and mouth open, presumably ready to go into another apologetic speech. However, you spoke up before he could say another word, “What’s your name?”.

You saw him gulp before uttering a quiet “Chan…?”, tone tilting up at the end, making it sound like a question, “What’s yours?”

You answered with your name before you mused, “Well Chan,” tapping your finger on your chin, “since you forced me to change my plans for the day, I think the least you could do is make it up to me.”

“Yes o-of course,” he blurted, before seemingly thinking, "A-a-and how can I do that?"

“Hmm”, You feigned to think once again, “Oh, I know! Let me join in on your water fight.”

His mouth dropped open, eyebrows raising as his eyes widened in surprise, “What?”

Without answering, you walked past him, towards his still staring friends, reached in the bucket and pulled out a big yellow water balloon. And before you could overthink it too much – you threw the balloon at Chan – hitting him right in the chest. With a big splash, the balloon popped while water sprayed everywhere.

Tiger-print-guy snorted, setting out a chain of laughter, and after a few seconds even Chan’s dumbfounded expression was broken by a smile as he wiped a few drops of water off his face. You took another balloon and tossed it to Chan, who caught it easily in his right hand. “Are you really just going to let me hit you like that without retaliating?” you dared, while taking another balloon for yourself.

His body finally seemed to relax at your jaunt, the corner of his lips pulling up even more, “Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

“For where I am standing, you didn’t seem to be quite ready yourself.” You chuckled, motioning to his dripping shirt.

“Get ready for running for your life then,” he smirked, as he declared, “may the battle begin!”

And so, it started. Your plans for the day, long forgotten as you spent the day, running through the park and ducking behind trees while launching water balloons at each other. You only decided to call it a day once you ran out of your colorful weaponry and the once refreshing coolness of the water made shivers run up your spine. You regrouped by a large oak tree, where the guys had prepared towels and fresh clothes.

You watched as Soonyoung and Jeonghan – as you’ve learned tiger-guy and Blondie were called – dried off still laughing, smiling along to their antics.

Suddenly a warm softness surrounds you and as you turn around, you lock eyes with Chan.

He smiles sweetly at you, “I think you need it more than me”, he states quietly while tucking the towel closer around you. You enjoy the warm state his hands leave you in for a few moments longer, before you reached up and laid your hand upon his, still on your upper arm, “Thank you.” You whispered.

“For hitting you with a water balloon?”, he questioned, tone still quiet, a teasing tone in his voice.

You shared a quiet laugh before replying, “for making today so much fun. I’ve almost forgotten what it feels like to feel young and so free of care. So, thank you, for making today special.”

You turned around, his hands leaving your shoulders almost hesitantly. For a split second, you swore you saw his eyes drop to your lips before returning your gaze once again. Your heart skipped a beat. Had you imagined it?

You found yourself taking a glance down as well. Your gaze followed the soft curve of his pink lips, before meeting his brown irises once more. The air seemed to shift around you - and you thought that maybe - just maybe, Chan might kiss you. And as you looked deep into his eyes, you realized, that you wanted him to kiss you.

But then the moment stretched on too long. He didn't move towards you and didn't say a word. Maybe you read too much into it and he was just being nice. Maybe that was just how he was – caring, kind and warm. The thought sent a pang through your chest and you went to take a step back, the grass next to your soaked through shoes seeming much more interesting now than just seconds before.

However, you were stopped when his hand took hold of yours. "Do you-", he hesitated, curling his fingers softly around yours - unsure whether to hold on or let go. But as he saw you looking up at him with nothing but hope in your eyes, he dared to finish his question, “Do you want to meet again? Maybe for coffee?” and before he could stop himself he was rambling once more, "only if you want, of course. No pressure. I just thought maybe it would be nice and you know -". You decided to save him from his nervous babbling by stepping up to him and planting a short peck on his cheek. “I would love to”.

Laying in bed with that night you could not help but let your mind wander back to Chan. How softly his hand held yours and how his laugh seemed to burst out of him – spreading his joy to everyone around him. The way his lips looked when he spoke and how it had felt to be held by him…

A loud Ding from your phone ripped you out of your daydreams. But when you unlocked it and saw Chan’s name written above the message, you couldn’t stop the smile from growing on your face. You didn’t know how, but somehow you knew - the cold splash of that blue, water-filled balloon sparked the beginning of something special. You were sure of it.

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egotank · 2 days ago

Note

Would you write CG bakugo x fem reader little ? Maybe 1A finding out bakugo has a little? Or him finding a little that isn’t scared of him?

Soft Kacchan

CG!Bakugou x Little!Fem!Reader

This was again inspired by a YUZUYA audio we struggled a bit with writing the fem reader as it was our first time so we apologize for your long wait but we hope you enjoy it!! -Kats

Content Warning: Swearing (Mostly from Bakugou), Nightmare, Kidnapping is mentioned (It’s part of the nightmare).

You woke up from a nightmare feeling very little, you had dreamt that The League Of Villains kidnapped you instead of Katsuki and that’s why you felt the need to go to his dorm room for some sort of reassurance. He’d understand how to deal with it; he knew from experience what it was like to be kidnapped after all.

With that in mind you sneak out of your dorm room avoiding being caught by Aizawa since it’s well past curfew. You also didn’t need your sensei asking about the pacifier you had in your mouth.You open the door to Katsuki’s room, the ash blonde sleeping soundly, you slip into his bed unnoticed until he attempts to toss over and brushes his hand against you.

‘Huh!? What are you doing in my bed? Did you really sneak into my dorm room just to sleep in my bed you clingy brat?��

He spoke in a non-malicious tone. He was always so soft and gentle with you; it was almost like he was a totally different guy. Of course if you were to tell this to the rest of 1-A they certainly would not believe you one bit. The explosive blonde being soft was just not something the others associated with Katsuki Bakugou yet here he was being just that.

You explain why you were there to Bakugou and he hums in acknowledgement at you.

“A nightmare huh? It’s not like I’m gonna kick you out either way or whatever just stay on that side okay?”

He lets you climb into his bed as he shuffles his own body towards the wall to give you space however you climb in and decide clinging to him was what you really needed most right now. You’re regressed and stressed out from this damn nightmare and you were going to get some Katsuki cuddles no matter what the explosive blonde had to say about it You faintly hear him grumble at you clinging to him

“I said stay on that side! Why are you being so damn clingy?”

He seems confused and a bit concerned about what you might have dreamed about to get you like this and it’s made more evident when he sits up and asks if the nightmare was really that bad. He sees you give a simple nod to his question and sighs he can tell from your semi non-verbal behaviour that you’re regressed.

“Alright I’m far too tired to give you any solid advice so just come here.”

He pulls you close to him, your back against his chest as he spoons you in a comforting and protective manner.

“What did you even dream about anyways? What got you this damn clingy?”

He wonders out loud not really expecting a response of sorts; he figures you’re too out of it to want to talk about it. However you quickly and quietly mumble that you dreamt about League kidnapping you instead of him and he pulls you in even closer.

“Well that would do it. Pretty shitty of your brain to worry you like that. It’s nothing that you can’t handle though right you’re tough and you have me. So even if any of that was real I’d NEVER let anything hurt you got that?”

He asks you while pulling you impossibly close to make sure that you know he’ll always be there for you. Having him this close to you and holding you like this is enough to make you feel like you were safe again. It also helped that Katsuki’s quirk made him smell like burnt cinnamon and caramel, the perfect soothing scent for your racing mind.

You drift off to sleep peacefully in his grasp his scent having lulled you and when Katsuki realizes this he lets out a slight chuckle playing with your as he tries to go back to sleep himself, just when he’s about to his door creaks open again and he looks towards to see Aizawa who always seems to come to check on the blonde to make sure he’s still breathing. Katsuki thinks it’s because of the war that his teacher keeps doing this, however when he sees the quirked eyebrow raise that his sensei is giving him because of you being in his room he gives a simple shrug.

“She had a nightmare and needed some comfort now, mind letting us sleep?”

He grumbles with a yawn at Aizawa who gives a simple nod and leaves you two to sleep peacefully well at least until morning where it seems like everyone was wondering where you were and that’s how they discovered you regressed and cuddled up to none other than Katsuki Bakugou. To say they were surprised was an understatement. They were full blown shocked that their blasty and destructive classmate was capable of being this damn soft.

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skzartemis · 2 days ago

Text

𝐹𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹𝓁𝓎 𝓇𝒾𝓋𝒶𝓁𝓇𝓎

Day 6 of To.X

Pairing: Hyunjin x F!reader Genre: Students au, enemies to lovers Warning: none

Hyunjin had always viewed Y/N as a challenge, a puzzle he couldn't quite figure out. She was clever, sharp-tongued, and impossible to ignore. But what bothered him most was the way she had a habit of getting under his skin—making him feel both frustrated and intrigued at the same time.

The rivalry between them was thick, and neither of them was willing to back down. It wasn't until they were forced to work together on a long-term project that the edges of their animosity began to blur. Their late-night study sessions, filled with banter and sharp comments, slowly turned into something else. He began to notice the way her lips curled up slightly when she was about to make a point. The way her eyes would soften when she was focused on something important, like the project, or even when she was lost in thought.

One late night, they were at the library, sitting side by side at a table. Hyunjin had been focusing intently on his notes when he felt her gaze on him. Glancing up, he caught her staring at him, a little too long.

“What?” he asked, trying to keep his voice light, though his heart picked up pace.

Y/N seemed almost surprised that he noticed. She shifted slightly in her seat, her expression softening. “I don’t know… I guess I was just thinking about how much you’ve changed since we started this project.”

Hyunjin leaned back in his chair, surprised. “Changed? How?”

She shrugged slightly, eyes flicking to her work before meeting him again. “At first, you were all about proving something. But now… you actually listen. You don’t just argue for the sake of it.”

Hyunjin's heart skipped, but he didn't know how to respond to that. There was a vulnerability in her words, something he hadn't expected from the confident Y/N.

“You’re not exactly the person I thought you were either,” he said quietly. “I think we both assumed a lot about each other.”

Y/Nmet his gaze, her eyes softening for a brief moment. “Yeah. But maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”

The silence that followed felt different from the usual tension. There was no animosity in the air, no games being played. They were just two people, caught in the same moment of understanding.

And that moment lingered between them, growing into something neither of them could deny. Their conversations became more open, more real. They began to share parts of themselves they had kept hidden before—fears, insecurities, hopes for the future.

The turning point came one evening, after they had worked late into the night. The library had emptied out, and they were the only two left, packing up their things.

Hyunjin felt the weight of the night pressing on him, and the exhaustion in his limbs was finally catching up to him. He turned to Y/N, who was slowly organizing her notes, and couldn’t help but notice how the light from the overhead lamps highlighted the sharp lines of her face. For the first time, he saw her not just as a rival, but as something... more.

"Y/N," he said, his voice low, "do you ever... wonder about us? About this thing between us?"

Y/N paused, her fingers halting on the stack of papers she was arranging. She looked up at him, her expression unreadable. "What do you mean?"

He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "I mean... how we started. The rivalry. It was so intense, but now... it's different. I feel like I'm starting to see you differently. Like we're not just enemies anymore."

There was a long pause as Y/N studied him, her gaze shifting from his eyes to his lips, then back to his eyes. She exhaled slowly, as if trying to calm the nerves that had suddenly appeared between them.

"Maybe we were never really enemies," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Hyunjin swallowed, his heart beating faster. His usual confidence seemed to vanish, leaving a rawness he wasn’t used to. "I don't know... but I think I'm starting to want something more than this."

Her eyes flickered, and for the first time, she didn't hide the softness in them. She set down her papers and moved closer to him, slowly, cautiously. “What if... what if we stopped pretending to be rivals?” Y/N whispered, her breath warm against his face.

Without thinking, Hyunjin closed the distance between them. Their lips met in a kiss that was gentle at first—tentative, as if both were testing the waters. It was nothing like the heated exchanges they'd had before. This was softer, sweeter. When they pulled apart, they were both breathing a little heavier, but there was no awkwardness, only the lingering warmth of what had just happened.

"Hyunjin," she whispered, her voice shaky, "I... I don't know what to call this, but it feels like something real."

He rested his forehead against hers, the feeling of her so close overwhelming him in the best way. “We don't have to call it anything right now,” he murmured. “We can just be here.”

Their closeness, the way they had leaned into each other, wasn't about power or proving a point anymore. It was about understanding, about breaking down the walls they had built around themselves over time.

From that night forward, things between them changed. They still had moments of playful teasing, still had their moments of disagreement. But there was something new, something deeper. They found themselves confiding in each other in a way neither had ever done before.

On a quiet evening a few weeks later, they found themselves on a rooftop, overlooking the city. The world below was bustling, but up here, it was just the two of them.

Hyunjin slid closer to her, feeling her warmth beside him. “This… this is nice,” he said, his voice low, as he watched the city lights twinkle.

Y/N leaned her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes. “Yeah. It's the only place I can actually relax.”

Hyunjin wrapped his arm around her, feeling the steady rhythm of her breathing. There was something so calm about this moment, about being with her like this. “Maybe we don't have to compete anymore,” he whispered.

Y/N's lips curved into a small smile. “Maybe we don't.”

And in that moment, they both knew that they were no longer the enemies they once were. What had started with rivalry and conflict had transformed into something more meaningful—something quiet and beautiful.

Their connection was no longer about winning or losing, but about sharing, understanding, and embracing the unspoken bond that had formed between them. In each other's arms, they found peace. And for the first time in a long time, Hyunjin felt like he had truly found someone who understood him, someone who was his equal.

Taglist

@toasty0703 @j-ji-jia

#skz #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin stray kids #hyunjin skz

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eunandonly · 11 hours ago

Text

BOYNEXTDOOR AS KILLERS

in the end, no matter how you run or hide, you're already theirs

( 対 ) boynextdoor + gn. reader 1087WC · thriller? tbh idk what this is contains! language, death, homicide, substances / archive

은 : this idea came into my head during calculus and i cringed the whole time i was writing this thing. have fun reading some cringy ass shit that's hopefully entertaining!! hope you guys still enjoy ~ also, a quick disclaimer that my writing does not reflect the real personality of the idols!!

myung jaehyun

you’d like myung jaehyun. everyone does. he walks into a room and fits in seamlessly, his presence neither too bold nor too forgettable. people gravitate towards him, drawn to his warm voice, the way he listens just enough to make you feel important. he’s friendly–a little too friendly. he’s the kind of person you’d trust without realising why, and that’s exactly what he wants.

his work is quiet, meticulous. he infiltrates, observes, gathers information piece by piece during seemingly innocent conversations until you’ve handed him everything he needs without ever suspecting a thing. by the time you feel like something’s off, by the time you feel the shift–when his eyes turn cold, when his presence settles in a way that makes your stomach sink–it’s already over.

his kills aren’t messy. there’s no need for amateur dramatics. a swift movement, a blade between the ribs, a whispered apology that means nothing no matter how much you try to pretend it is.

if it makes you feel better, myung jaehyun doesn’t enjoy killing you.

it’s just that that’s his role, and he’s really damn good at it.

“it’s not personal. but if it makes you feel better, you can pretend it is.”

park sungho

park sungho doesn’t get close. why would he when he doesn’t need to? his work is done from rooftops, from miles away, from places where no one even thinks to look.

clearly, you didn't think to look either.

everything in his world is measured in distances, in calculations, the exact weight of the trigger against his finger. wind speed, bullet drop, breathing patterns–he keeps all those factors in mind without hesitation. killing isn’t personal to him. it’s not some cliche act of vengeance or cruelty or whatever shit you've seen in movies. it’s just science, and he’s perfected it.

you would never never see it coming. one moment, you’re alive and breathing, caught up in whatever meaningless thing you’re doing. the next? your world turns black. no struggle, no warning. just the soft whisper of a bullet finding its mark. and sungho never misses

people talk about luck. they call his skill unnatural, but there’s nothing unnatural about inevitability. a bullet for you will always find its way.

“if you heard the shot, it wasn’t meant for you.”

lee sanghyuk

you don't eve realise he's there. but he's watching. always watching.

lee riwoo doesn’t need a weapon. doesn’t need to be in the same room. doesn’t even need to exist.

his world isn’t flesh and blood–he doesn’t like getting his hands dirty like that, no. it’s code, data, systems meant to be impenetrable until he decides otherwise. cctv footage glitches at just the right moment. bank accounts drain in seconds. entire case files vanish from police databases, as if they were never there to begin with.

he exists everywhere and nowhere at the same time. a name whispered in law enforcement circles with no face attached, no records, no proof. they search for him, try to pin him down, but how do you catch something that isn’t real?

he sees more than he speaks. listens more than he moves. he knows everything about you before you even realise he’s watching. passwords, addresses, the embarrassing text you deleted five years ago. he keeps it all tucked away, waiting. and if you become a problem? he erases you from existence, just like he does with those cctv footages and case files.

“funny. you really thought you were off the grid?”

han dongmin

you hear the stories. the ones about a killer too smart to be caught.

you tell yourself it’s just a rumor. that he’s not real. that people like him don’t exist.

but then you meet han taesan. and suddenly, you’re not so sure.

he watches you, studies you, make a game out of it. his kills aren't random–he doesn't just blindly pick a random person on the street as his next victim–and they're never sloppy. han taesan doesn't kill because he has to. he kills because he enjoys it. because it's fun. and he's really fucking good at it.

his murders are carefully orchestrated, a masterpiece. he leaves just enough clues to make you think you're close, just enough hope to make you believe you'll figure it out, only to rip it away at the last second. he's loves watching you scramble, loves knowing you'll never catch him.

han taesan always wins at the game.

“they always think they’re smarter than me. it’s kind of cute, actually.”

kim donghyun

you don’t even feel it at first. that’s the beauty of it.

it’s not a gunshot, not a stab wound, not something dramatic. no, kim leehan doesn’t do theatrics. his kills are quiet, elegant. a tasteless drop in a glass of wine, a slow-acting toxin hidden in perfume, a lethal dose disguised as medicine. by the time you realize what’s happening, it’s already inside you.

he specialises in making deaths look natural. a heart attack, an allergic reaction, an unfortunate accident. even the most skilled doctors find nothing suspicious.

kim leehan enjoys watching. he watches as you sip your poisoned tea whilst you laugh, unaware that it’ll be your last. he watches as panic sets in, as your body betray you. and then, when you finally realise what’s happening, he simply smiles before giving you a little finger gun at your last gasp of breath.

“i wonder how long it’ll take before you figure it out.”

kim woonhak

you think you’re strong. that you won’t break.

you’re wrong.

kim woonhak enjoys the process. he’s patient. he takes his time. it’s not just about the pain–it’s about control. the way people break at different speeds, how fear changes the way they breathe, how the ones that claim to be the strong and tough are always the ones who beg the loudest in the end.

those type of people pisses woonhak off.

he doesn’t ask questions right away. that’s too easy. instead, he talks. he jokes. he makes you feel like maybe, just maybe, you’ll make it out of this. he leans in close, tilts his head, smiles like he’s curious about you. and for a second, you think he’s not so bad.

but then the real work begins.

he knows exactly how much to wait before pushing just a little further. it’s not about the information. it’s about watching the moment you break, knowing he's the one who did it.

"you’re shaking. are you scared? or are you finally realising how much fun i’m having?"

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xxplastic-cubexx · 5 months ago

Note

hello!! i just want to tell you that your art is so goddamn scrumptious, you are literally feeding my xmen brainrot and I find myself smiling when i see your art come across my feed. I love how you draw charles, pretty privilege and post (lets be fr he's serving every time)

i hope you always have fantastic brainrot and id kiss your blessed hands for giving us the gift of cherik and charles xavier, you are literally an icon

hope you have a great day ahead of you and more!! you deserve it !!

well i'ma absolutely have a wonderful mornin after readin this AWWWW thank you so so much !!!! i haven't been postin xmen long, so it's been really heartwarmin seein the warm reception to my work in the wonderful tags people have been leavin on my posts- and especially gettin to answer the lovely asks y'all've been sendin in (❁´ ▽ `❁) !! im glad people also like my goofy text posts and esp quotes from my brother he really has no right being so funny at the most random times

i hope to be xmen posting a while: ive got at least 60 years worth of stuff to look through and ongoing, so i dont imagine my interest'll wane anytime soon :]] !!

#fave #snap chats #'xmen posting' is so generous ive been posting the same two freaks day in day out !!!!!!#my blog desc does not lie i am cherik posting near exclusively because these two have captivated my brain in such a diabolical manner #that doesnt mean i dont love the rest of the xmen cast ofc ..... its been fun getting back into this franchise more in depth this year #its funny honestly: i was more of an avengers kid growing up but like. by the SMALLEST technical margin #i Vaguely caught eps of 92 as a kid and i distinctly remember the 'real raven' scene from first class when i was a teen #because of course thats the one (1) scene i saw as a kid while channel surfing jELJEA like Hello mr lehnsherr. Your zesty turtleneck.#and mystique. hello. but it didnt really go any deeper than that ... until recently HIIIII #i missed the train like a mfer tho all Three of my friends had watched the xmen movies growing up but better late than never !!#i got into comics through my bro and he only really took me to see avengers movies and the like but avengers hasnt really. stuck with me #not in the way xmen has recently. maybe its cause im older idk i just find myself attached to it and more interested in it as a whole #BUT ENOUGH OF THAT PRATTLE thank you so much for the kind words !!! they really do mean a lot i'll cherish this ask forever #im very happy people like how i draw charles i love drawing him sm.... pretty privilege and post thats heinous vjlkjvALVJELKJ #BUT VERY TRUE HE'S ALWAYS HANDSOME THO i love me a bald mfer im so serious this is no game #dark phoenix gets my ire for having mcavoy be bald the whole time but then i have to deal with The Rest Of The Movie #he just looks so good .... i mean Granted but he just looks especially good ... do we catch my cold ... ill stop now ...#point is i look forward to drawing charles many more times in the future Bald Or Not with his ex by his side <3 #i dont even wanna post this i just wanna keep readin it. and replyin to it vJEALKAEJKL BUT i must thank you ... so thank you !!!#i hope to continue makin the people happy with my silly postings :]]]

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goldenthreadstories · 6 days ago

Note

[ 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 ] : receiver notices sender looking at them longingly. - Yusuke

@bishonenprince sent in a thread for yusuke!

Had he caught that look or was he just mistaking it?

No there was no way that Sora was looking at him that way. It must have just been for the shoot, just happened to be the way he was looking for the picture was the same place he had been stood in waiting for Sora to be done so they could go for some tea.

But he was really hoping that he hadn't been mistaking the look. Heart fluttered at the possibility that Sora really was looking at him that way, the way he knew himself to look at the other when he wasn't looking.

Yusuke could not help the longing his heart felt for Sora, they were similar in ways and total opposites in others. However, Sora was one of the people who had truly seen just Yusuke at this point. Didn't just see him for the used pupil, the quick way to fame, the artist. Sora saw past all that.

While they were parts of what made him who he was, the other had seen past it and saw all of it at once. Not just one part and fixating on that, for what they could gain from him or being friends with him.

As far as he could tell Sora didn't have anything to gain like that from their friendship.

Yusuke however stood now, longingly looking back at Sora. Soft pink blush dusting his cheeks and a smile so soft on his face that he might have looked like a porcelain doll in the right light, delicate and soft.

#muse ;; yusuke / fox #answered asks ;; we hope these threads can guide you #bishonenprince #[ hes friendzoning himself again ]#[ but hes really hoping the look he caught is real ]

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marvelstoriesepic · 14 days ago

Text

Creamy or Crunchy

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Summary: Bucky joins you grocery shopping to everyone’s surprise.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Bucky hovering; Bucky knowing his favorite people; little bit of protective!Bucky

Author’s Note: I don’t know what this is but I was in need of some silly fluff. Hope you enjoy! ♡

Masterlist

He’s been trailing after you since you left the tower, stuck to your side.

Not in an obvious way, not in a manner that would draw stares or second glances, but in that ever-present way of his - like a second shadow or an old instinct that never really shuts off.

You’ve barely gone five blocks to the nearest grocery store, and Bucky has stuck close the whole time, keeping pace without a word.

It caught everyone off guard when he volunteered to come with you.

He had been slouched in his usual spot at the kitchen counter, cradling a cup of coffee he never seemed to finish, and looking like he had nowhere in particular to be. So when he had straightened, eyes trained on how you pulled on your shoes and muttered a gruff “I’ll come with you,” there was a moment of pause in the conversation between Natasha, Steve, Clint and Sam lounging on the couch in the common room.

Even you had blinked at him, thrown off by the suddenness of it.

Still, you didn’t argue.

Normally, grocery shopping isn’t something that interests anyone in the tower. It is a mundane, civilian thing - something of a life most of you had long since left behind.

There are people who handle it, services that deliver whatever you need at the touch of a button. But you aren’t looking for efficiency. You are looking for something real - something that can make you feel like a human being again.

You’d just gotten back yesterday from a month-long solo mission in Vorkuta, Russia. It was rather harsh. You spent those weeks in the cold, in silence, every step a deliberate calculation, every breath rationed as if you weren’t entirely sure when you’d be allowed another. You operated alone, only allowed to talk to Tony once a week for updates. It was the kind of quiet that made a person feel less like a person and more like an echo.

So you need something normal now. Something unremarkable.

No mission, no intel, no carefully rehearsed exit strategies.

Just a trip to the store, because you want to pick out your own food instead of eating whatever shows up in the tower’s stocked fridge. You want to grab things impulsively - maybe a bag of chips you don’t need or a carton of juice just because it looks good.

You want the simple, stupid pleasure of choosing something, just because. Of standing under the fluorescent hum of grocery store lights and deciding between brands of cereal and coffee creamers like it actually matters.

And Bucky, for all his presence, says nothing.

He just walks with you, hands stuffed into his pockets, eyes darting between the sidewalk and the people passing by. He is relaxed, but only just. There is tension in the way he moves, like he is running an assessment every few steps, tracking details of things you don’t care about at the moment.

The doors to the store slide open with a mechanical hiss, spilling warm, artificial air onto the street.

Inside, there is that familiar smell of waxed floors and cold produce, the sounds of shoppers, the beeping of registers.

A cart squeaks somewhere to your left. A child giggles near the bakery section. A bored-looking cashier stares blankly at the register screen. A tired-locking employee is restocking shelves.

It’s nothing special. But it feels real and humane in a way you need.

Bucky steps in behind you, scanning the store out of habit, then looking at you as if waiting for direction.

You grab a basket and move forward.

He follows without a word.

You walk through fruits and vegetables in bright, and glassy colors, stacked in neat abundance. The air smells like citrus, earth, the scent of misted greens, and something fairly plastic all slightly overwhelming your senses after a month of smelling mostly cold air.

You extend a hand toward the lemons, fingers brushing the textured skin of one when you feel the weight of the basket shift.

Bucky’s hand curls around the handle, pulling it from your grip and holding it himself.

Your gaze snaps up to him, but he isn’t looking at you. Not directly. His eyes are fixed on the rows of produce in front of you, his brows drawn together just slightly, his mouth set in that endearing little frown.

He stands close. Close enough that you can feel the warmth of him. Close enough that, if you shifted just an inch, the fabric of his sleeve would brush against yours.

It’s not intentional, this proximity - it’s more like a habit. He doesn’t seem to realize he’s doing it, doesn’t notice the way his presence expands to fill the space between you until there’s almost nothing left.

He exhales through his nose, shifting his weight slightly, eyes sweeping the fruit display as if it’s something to be figured out rather than casually shopping through.

His metal fingers whir slightly as he flexes his grip around the basket handle.

“This is a lot,” he murmurs, almost absently.

You keep glancing at him. It takes you a second to realize he is speaking at all, his voice being so quiet, a thought that accidentally made its way out.

“What?” you ask softly.

His eyes fall to you briefly, then back to the fruit. His mouth tightens, jaw working, debating whether to explain it or just let it drop.

“Back then,” he says, still not quite looking at you. His eyes scan the apples, the oranges, the rows of neatly stacked avocados and kiwis and papayas flown in from places he never got to see. “You had your basics. Apples. Pears. Some oranges, if you were lucky. But this?” He tilts his head slightly. “This is a lot.”

He doesn’t say it with wonder. He says it with assessment, categorizing this excess, measuring it against whatever memory of the past lingers in the spaces of his mind. Like he is trying to decide if this abundance is a good thing or just another shift in the world that changed without him.

For a second you wonder, if he is talking to you at all - or just thinking out loud, caught between time periods, a man stretched across decades that won’t quite line up.

Your fingers brush the lemons again, grabbing one and carefully putting it in the basket Bucky is holding. “Well,” you mumble, keeping your voice light. “You should see the cereal aisle.”

Bucky huffs out something that’s almost a laugh, something genuine and his eyes land on you again.

You move and pluck what you need. Apples, zucchini, a handful of bright bell peppers. A bundle of fresh basil, its scent still on your fingertips - something Wanda has been asking for. Some mangoes, ripe and golden, the kind Sam offhandedly mentioned craving the other day.

Bucky watches.

He doesn’t reach for anything himself, just keeps his grip on the basket as you fill it and trails closely after you.

His eyes track every motion - the way your fingers test the hardness of an avocado, the way you turn a tomato in your palm, the way you pause just a second before deciding on a bunch of grapes.

He simply observes.

You step over to the plums.

Their deep purple skins glisten under the lights, some nearly black, some streaked with dusky red. You pick one up, pressing it lightly with your thumb, feeling the faint give beneath your touch. Satisfied, you reach for more, slipping them into a paper bag one by one.

Bucky doesn’t say anything.

But you feel him.

The attention he gives you.

His face is unreadable, expression carefully neutral, but there is something behind his eyes - something considering, something caught between memory and recognition.

You don’t know if he realizes you are getting them for him.

You don’t know if he remembers, or if it is just something subconscious, some buried instinct nudging at him in a way he can’t understand.

But you remember. You remember the way he stared at the heap of plums on the kitchen counter weeks ago, the way his fingers had twitched with a want to take one, but he hadn’t. And the way he watched Wanda as she used them to make a pie he didn’t end up eating.

“Do you want some more?” Your voice is casual, warm. And when you glance up at him, he is already looking at you.

Then, almost abruptly, he clears his throat, dropping his gaze. The fingers of his metal hand flex once around the basket handle. He shifts his stance slightly but does not move away from you. When he speaks, his voice is low, almost careful, almost bashful.

“S’ fine.”

But you catch the almost-question in the way his eyes move around, how his fingers tighten and release.

So you grab a handful more and drop them into the bag without a word. Then you fold the top down and place it into the basket.

Bucky doesn’t look away this time.

And he continues wandering along with you through the aisles.

The plums sit among other products and you catch him glancing at them once or twice.

You reach for a carton of eggs when there is a shift.

Not in the air, not in the store itself, but in Bucky.

His posture tightens, his grip on the basket adjusts slightly. You don’t immediately know why, but then you turn your head and see a man standing a few feet away, watching you.

It’s not overtly threatening, not enough to draw attention, but something about his gaze lingers too long, too deliberate. His eyes trace the shape of you, moving slow, assessing. He isn’t leering, isn’t smirking, but the way he looks makes your skin prickle.

He seems to debate if he should say something. Waiting for an opportunity.

You barely have time to move away before Bucky does.

He doesn’t make a sound, doesn’t say a word, just shifts seamlessly into place - between you and the man.

It’s not a dramatic gesture. No sudden motions, no confrontational stance. Just his presence - him planting himself in the way, broad shoulders squaring, jaw setting, scowling.

That man takes his brown eyes away from you and meets Bucky’s gaze, and whatever he sees there - whatever lives behind those icy blue eyes - is enough to make him rethink his interest. He looks away, scratching the back of his head, shuffling back a step, and seems suddenly far more interested in bread.

You exhale softly. Bucky doesn’t move.

He stays right where he is, a silent wall between you and whatever attention you haven’t wanted. His scowl lingers for a second longer before he glances back at you, eyes sweeping over your face as if he is making sure you are fine.

You tilt your head, offering a small, gentle smile. “Everything good?”

His lips twitch, almost like he wants to say something but doesn’t quite know how to form those words.

“Yeah,” he mutters, swallowing.

But his stance is still slightly stiff, his fingers can’t stay calm around the basket handle. And he glances, just once, in the man’s direction - making sure he stays gone.

Something warm fills your chest.

You missed him, while you were gone.

He’s always such a grounding presence at your side.

You missed his dry, reluctant commentary whenever the team does something ridiculous.

You missed walking into the common area with him brooding in his usual chair, pretending not to listen to conversations he’d eventually grumble his way into.

He was there when you stepped off the jet yesterday.

It wasn’t necessary for him to be there, it was six in the morning, after all, but he was.

He hadn’t said much - he never says much - but his eyes ran over you in a way that told you he had been waiting. That there was something heavy underneath that furrowed brow and the almost too casual nod he gave you. Something like relief. Satisfaction. And something much more profound.

You remember how he was when you left.

Standing off to the side of the hangar, arms crossed, jaw pressed tight as you made your final checks. It also wasn’t necessary for him to be there, but, again, he was.

He said goodbye briefly, wished you luck, but in the way you felt him watch you board the jet it seemed there was more he wanted to tell you.

And when the engines had roared to life, when the ground beneath you had begun to shrink, you caught the last glimpse of him - standing stiff, pensive, his mouth pressed into a thin line.

Now, he walks beside you, trailing just a half-step behind, his grip steady around the basket that should be in your hands, watching you more than anything you’re planning to buy.

Maybe that’s why he came with you.

Maybe that’s why he hasn’t strayed, why he hovers close, why his eyes find you like he is memorizing something he doesn’t want to lose track of again.

Maybe he missed you, too.

He is not grumpy, but there is still a tension in him. Something wound too tight in his shoulders, in the set of his jaw, in the way he glances at you like he wants to say something and then doesn’t.

You can’t have that.

Your eyes scan the shelves as you walk further along, knowing that Bucky will follow.

“What kind of soup does Steve eat?”

Bucky’s brows pull together at your casual question, as if he can’t believe that’s what you asked. “Soup?”

You nod, dead serious. “Yeah. I mean, does he have a favorite? Chicken noodle? Tomato? Something tragic, like plain broth?”

Bucky exhales sharply, almost a laugh and something in him relaxes ever so slightly. He tilts his head back a little as if this is the most absurd thing anyone has ever asked him, but he humors you.

“Steve doesn’t eat plain broth,” he says in that low rasp that sometimes sends a shiver down your spine. Now is sometimes. “He’s got more sense than that.”

You hum thoughtfully, reaching for a can on the shelf, inspecting it like it holds the answer to some great mystery.

“So what is it, then? Something classic? Or does he secretly go for the weird gourmet stuff?”

Bucky steps closer, peering over your shoulder. The fabric of his jacket brushes against your back.

You glance up at him, arching your brow.

“You don’t know, do you?”

Bucky rolls his eyes, but his face is soft. The scowl has faded. There is a tug at the corner of his mouth. “Of course, I know.”

“Uh-huh.”

He huffs, reaching past you to grab a can from the shelf, fingers brushing yours briefly. “Clam chowder,” he utters. “There. Happy?”

You blink, genuinely caught off guard. “Wait. Really?”

Bucky smirks, just a little, just enough to be real.

“Yeah,” he says, voice a bit quieter. “Really.”

“Well, then,” you quip, taking the can off his hands and putting it in the basket. “He shall have it.”

Bucky huffs out an amused laugh.

You walk a little slower now, Bucky falls into step beside you. He seems lighter now, his face softened as he watches a little boy excitedly run off to a certain aisle while his mother calls out for him.

You plan on keeping him that way.

You spot a ridiculously, colorful display stacked high with an array of different kinds of peanut butter.

“Creamy or crunchy?”

Bucky blinks, turning to look at you. “What?”

You gesture toward the display like it’s obvious. “Steve. What kind of peanut butter does he eat? Creamy or crunchy?”

There is a beat of silence. Then, something seems to turn alive in Bucky’s expression. His lips twitch as if he suppresses a smirk and doesn’t want to give you the satisfaction.

“You serious?”

“Deadly.” You fold your arms, tilting your head. “I feel like he’s a creamy peanut butter guy, but I could be wrong.”

Bucky is hovering again, looking at the shelves like this is suddenly a debate worth considering. His arm brushes against your side, but he doesn’t move away.

“You’re wrong.”

You glance at him, eyebrows raised. “Oh?”

“He’s a crunchy guy,” Bucky says, reaching for a jar with his flesh hand and inspecting it like proof. “Says the creamy stuff’s got no texture. No character.”

You snort.

Bucky hums, still holding the jar, rolling it absently in his hand. He looks at ease. The basket dangles from his metal fingers as if it weighs nothing, even though it is filled with products.

You watch him.

The tension in his shoulders is practically gone and you know you should probably leave it there, but you don’t.

Because you want more.

More of this, more of him, more of that unguarded space where he forgets to be closed off.

So, you bite your lip and tilt your head at him before asking carefully. “What about you?”

Bucky glances at you, a small crease forming between his brows. “What about me?”

You gesture vaguely. “What kind of peanut butter do you like?”

For a moment, he just stares at you, like the question has never occurred to him before. Like no one’s ever bothered to ask.

You can almost see the gears turning in his head, his fingers tightening slightly around the jar. The hesitation is there. He doesn’t know how to answer. Perhaps he doesn’t know if he has a preference. Or it’s just been a long, long time since someone cared enough to ask.

You wait, patiently.

Finally, he lets out a cough, looking back at the display as if searching for an answer among the shelves. “…Crunchy,” he mutters. “I guess.”

You gin. “Yeah?”

He shifts his weight, looking rather uncomfortable but not in a bad way. Just unsure. This is unfamiliar ground for him, not knowing what to do with the attention.

You reach forward and pluck the jar from his hand before he can second-guess himself.

“Alright,” you say, dropping it into the basket with a decisive little thud. “Crunchy it is.”

Bucky observes you do it, something shimmering in his expression - something soft, a little hesitant, but warm. Like this tiny, seemingly meaningless choice holds a weight to him.

His jaw flexes slightly, as if he is about to say something, but he just exhales through his nose and shakes his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

But there is no bite to it.

And this time, he is the one to start walking, making sure you come along, staying just a little closer than before.

You are nearing the checkout registers when Bucky suddenly stops walking. It’s so abrupt that you almost keep going, but the absence of him beside you makes you pause.

You turn, finding him standing in front of a shelf, scanning its contents with a strange kind of focus, considering something.

You wait, watching the way his eyes search the options, his brows furrowing slightly. There is no tension in his posture, no obvious reason for the sudden stop - just deliberation.

Then, without a word, he reaches out, grasps a familiar-looking package, and drops it into the basket.

A soft thud.

Your gaze falls down, and your stomach does something strange when you realize what it is.

Chocolate-covered almonds.

The ones you always grab when you’re wandering the tower’s kitchen late at night, mind still wired from a mission, too awake to sleep but too tired to focus on anything real.

The ones you mindlessly snack on when you’re curled up on the couch, half-listening to, half-joining a conversation, or watching a movie.

The ones you didn’t even realize you had a thing for until you see them sitting in the basket between his plums, Steve’s soup, and the peanut butter Bucky prefers.

Your lips part slightly, surprised, searching his face. “You- Why’d you grab these?”

Bucky doesn’t even hesitate.

“Because you like them.”

Matter-of-fact. Simple. As if it’s obvious.

Just a fact.

Like it’s something he has known all along, something he has cataloged somewhere deep in that careful, quiet mind of his without ever making a big deal of it.

The realization unsettles you - not in a bad way, but in the kind of way that makes your chest feel suddenly too full.

You swallow, the corners of your lips twitching slightly, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up your neck.

“How do you know that?”

The words leave your lips lightly, bright with curiosity, playful in their demand. But beneath it, there is something you don’t quite let slip.

Something about the fact that he’s been watching.

That he’s noticed.

That he has paid attention in a way you didn’t think anyone has.

His grip on the basket adjusts for the hundredth time, but not because it’s heavy, he just seems to need something to do with his hands.

He schools his expression into something nonchalant, something careless, but it’s betrayed by the hint of warmth dusting across his cheekbones.

“You’re always munchin’ on ‘em,” he says, a teasing edge lacing his voice. He tries to sound smug, like it is an observation, just a simple fact, but there is something softer beneath it. Something like fondness.

You don’t even know if it’s been that obvious. If you truly eat these things out in the open that often.

Or if he just really is that observant.

That realization settles deep in your chest, warm and startling all at once.

So you just huff, pretending like your heart isn’t skipping beats, like his answer isn’t winding around something tender inside you.

“Well,” you remark, nudging his arm as you start walking again, “now I feel self-conscious about my snacking habits.”

Bucky lets out a soft chuckle. And when he falls into step beside you, he leans in slightly, voice just low enough for you to hear.

“Don’t.”

“The most sincere compliment we can pay is attention.”

- Walter Anderson

3K notes · View notes

bettys-redwinesupernova · 2 months ago

Text

LINGER

rafe cameron x fem!reader

SUMMARY: a sweet, introverted bartender and obx’s very own troubled golden boy share an unspoken connection—until jealousy, misunderstandings, and unspoken feelings finally push them to confront the truth.

based on this ask !! i hope you enjoy anon, and i hope it’s what you asked for :)

WARNINGS: brief angst, cursing, alcohol consumption, topper being annoying, jealous!rafe, jj being flirty with reader😝, “love” confessions, rafe not feeling good enough, mutual pining, but a cute fluffy end !! (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 3.8k (i got REALLY carried away !!)

THIRD PERSON +

The hum of conversation filled the bar on Figure 8, mingling with the low beats of a classic rock playlist. It was a quieter night than usual, with only a handful of regulars clustered at tables and the occasional newcomer drifting in. Y/N stood behind the bar, wiping down the polished surface even though it hardly needed cleaning. She wasn't one to sit idle, and, truth be told, she was grateful for something to do.

The nights when Rafe Cameron came in made it nearly impossible for her to relax.

He was seated at the far end of the bar now, nursing a drink he didn't seem all that interested in. His sharp jawline caught the low light, the curve of his lips tugged into what might have been a smirk—or perhaps he was just lost in thought. Either way, Y/N found it difficult not to glance at him every few minutes, only to whip her gaze away whenever his blue eyes threatened to meet hers.

She knew his routine well by now. Rafe always came in alone, usually later in the evening when the crowd had thinned out. He was polite—surprisingly so—but there was something about him that felt dangerous, like a storm rolling in just beyond the horizon. The other bartenders whispered about him when he wasn't around, but Y/N didn't pay much attention to the gossip. She only knew what she saw: a man who lingered a little too long, who seemed to light up when she stumbled through small talk, who always tipped well even though she was sure she got his drink orders wrong half the time.

Tonight, as she fiddled nervously with the sleeves of her long sleeve tee, she could feel his eyes on her. She braced herself, stealing one more calming breath before walking toward his side of the bar.

"Need a refill, Rafe?" she asked, her voice barely louder than the music.

Rafe looked up, his expression softening the moment he saw her. "Yeah," he said, pushing his glass forward. "Same thing as before, please."

Y/N nodded quickly and reached for the bottle of bourbon, her hands trembling slightly as she poured. She could feel his gaze burning into her, the weight of his attention making her heart pound in her chest.

"Long night?" he asked suddenly, his voice smooth but laced with something almost boyish.

"Hmm?" she mumbled, nearly sloshing the liquor over the rim of his glass. "Oh, uh, yeah. Sort of."

"You're always working so hard," he remarked, leaning forward just a fraction. "Not sure I've ever seen you take a break."

Her cheeks burned as she scrambled to wipe up a stray droplet of bourbon with the edge of her towel. "It's not so bad," she said quickly. "I don't mind staying busy."

"You're good at it," he said, and there was an odd sincerity in his voice that made her stomach twist. "The bartending, I mean. You've got this... thing. Like, you make people feel comfortable."

Y/N froze for a moment, unsure how to respond. Compliments weren't something she received often, and especially not from someone like Rafe Cameron. She fumbled with the garnish tray, pulling out a cherry and dropping it into his glass with shaking fingers.

"Thanks," she murmured, avoiding his gaze.

He smiled then—a real, crooked smile that softened the edges of his typically hard demeanor. "I mean it," he said, taking the drink from her. His fingers brushed hers, just barely, but the contact sent a shiver down her spine. "You're easy to talk to, even when you're... y'know, kind of shy."

She blinked at him, unsure whether to laugh or apologise. Instead, she ducked her head, the warm feeling in her cheeks creeping up to her ears. "I, uh... I'm not great at talking. Sorry."

"Don't be," he said, his voice low and warm. "It's cute."

Her breath caught in her throat, and for a second, she was sure she'd imagined the way he looked at her—like she was something worth noticing. But before she could respond, the sound of someone calling her name from the other end of the bar jolted her back to reality. She muttered a quick excuse and darted away, her heart racing as she busied herself with another customer.

Rafe watched her go, a small frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. He hated how his chest tightened whenever she was near, how he felt like a nervous wreck every time she so much as glanced in his direction. She was sweet, kind-hearted, and far too good for someone like him.

And yet, he couldn't stop himself from lingering.

An hour later, the bar had grown busier, and Y/N found herself working harder to avoid Rafe's gaze. She didn't notice the arrival of Topper Thornton until his voice boomed across the room, drawing Rafe's attention.

Rafe liked watching her. She was different from anyone else he knew—a little clumsy, a little shy, but always kind. Too kind, he thought, for someone like him. She didn't belong to the same cutthroat world of backstabbing and manipulation that he did. She was sunshine, soft and untouchable, and every time he caught himself staring too long, he felt like a thief.

He didn't deserve her.

"Yo, Rafe!" Topper's voice cut through his thoughts, sharp and grating. Rafe turned to see his best friend approaching with a blonde girl in tow. She was pretty in a polished, effortless way—designer dress, manicured nails, a confident smile that screamed old money.

"This is Whitney," Topper announced, nudging Rafe's shoulder. "Told her you've been a free agent too long."

Rafe forced a tight smile, shaking Whitney's hand. She was pretty, sure. She had that typical Kook look, all high cheekbones and cold elegance. But she didn't spark anything in him. Not like Y/N did.

"Hi," Whitney said, her voice lilting with practiced charm.

"Hey," Rafe replied, stealing a glance back at the bar.

Y/N had seen it all—the introduction, the way Whitney tilted her head flirtatiously, the way Topper patted Rafe on the back like he'd just scored a win. Her heart sank, and she turned her attention to cleaning the counter with exaggerated focus, hoping to block out the scene playing out before her.

It was stupid to feel this way. She and Rafe weren't anything, not really. He was just a customer, and she was the awkward bartender who could barely string a sentence together around him. But seeing him with someone else, someone who seemed to fit so effortlessly into his world, made her chest tighten painfully.

When Rafe returned to the bar for another drink, Y/N kept her head down. Her usual nervous warmth was replaced by a cold efficiency as she mixed his order.

"Here," she said curtly, sliding the glass across the counter without looking up.

Rafe frowned. "You okay?"

"Fine."

He hesitated, searching her face for something—anything—that would explain the sudden change in her demeanor. But she didn't give him the chance to linger this time, quickly turning away to serve another customer.

Rafe's stomach twisted. She was shutting him out, and he didn't know why. Was it Whitney? Did she think he liked her? He didn't, not in the way he liked Y/N. But how could he explain that without sounding like an idiot? What was he even thinking? They weren't even together.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of frustration and longing. Whitney clung to Rafe's arm, laughing at his half-hearted jokes and batting her lashes at him, but he barely noticed. His focus was on Y/N—on the way she avoided his gaze, the stiffness in her shoulders, the forced politeness in her voice whenever he ordered another drink.

She hated him now. He was sure of it.

"Rafe, are you even listening?" Whitney's voice snapped him back to reality.

"Yeah," he lied, forcing a tight smile.

But he wasn't. His mind was with Y/N, replaying every moment of the night, searching for the moment he'd ruined everything.

—

The crisp night air nipped at Y/N's skin as she stepped out of the bar, her breath curling in wispy clouds before vanishing into the dark. The quiet of the island after hours was always a comfort, the distant crash of waves on the shore a reminder of home. But tonight, no amount of serene surroundings could quiet the ache twisting in her chest.

She tightened her coat around her as she walked to her car, her mind replaying the evening in an endless loop. It wasn't the first time she'd seen Rafe Cameron in the bar. She'd grown used to his presence, even come to anticipate it with a nervous sort of excitement. But tonight was different. Tonight, he hadn't been alone.

Y/N hated the way her stomach had dropped at the sight of the blonde girl—Whitney, as she'd overheard Topper call her—clinging to Rafe's arm, her perfectly manicured nails resting on his bicep like she had every right to be there. The girl was beautiful, confident, and poised in a way Y/N knew she could never be. She was everything a Kook girl was supposed to be, and everything Y/N wasn't.

Her hands tightened on the steering wheel as she drove home, the rhythmic hum of the tires on the pavement doing little to soothe her. She felt ridiculous, stupid even, for letting herself feel this way. Rafe wasn't hers, and he never would be. He was just a guy who came into the bar, a customer she barely knew beyond the surface. But that wasn't entirely true, was it?

The way he lingered at the bar, the way he seemed to soften when he talked to her, the way he looked at her like she was someone worth noticing—it had all felt so real. She couldn't help but replay every stolen glance, every hesitant smile, every compliment he'd offered in his quiet, almost bashful way.

But now, all of that felt like a cruel joke. Maybe she'd imagined it, read too much into his kindness because she wanted to believe it was something more. Maybe he'd been looking at her out of boredom, not interest. Maybe he had never thought about her at all.

Her throat tightened, and she blinked hard against the sting of tears. She hated how vulnerable she felt, how easily her emotions betrayed her. She had always prided herself on being independent, on not needing anyone's validation. But Rafe Cameron had slipped past her defenses, and now she was paying the price for letting him linger in her thoughts and feelings.

By the time she reached her small, cozy house, the weight in her chest had settled into a dull ache. She dropped her keys on the counter and sank onto the couch, her thoughts still swirling like a storm. Her parents had always supported her decision to work, even though she could have easily coasted on their wealth like so many other Kooks. She liked earning her own way, proving to herself and the world that she was more than just another privileged kid on Figure 8.

But tonight, she felt small and insignificant, like the world was reminding her that she didn't belong in Rafe Cameron's orbit. He was a hurricane, magnetic and destructive, and she was just a quiet breeze, unnoticed and easily forgotten.

And yet, she couldn't stop thinking about him.

—

The door to Rafe's house closed with a heavy thud, and he let out a long, exhausted sigh as he leaned against it. The evening had been a disaster, but it wasn't because of Whitney. In fact, he could hardly remember a single thing she'd said. His mind had been elsewhere all night, fixated on the one thing he couldn't stop thinking about: Y/N.

He pushed off the door and made his way to the kitchen, the silence of the house pressing in around him. His family was used to him coming and going at odd hours, and tonight he was grateful for the solitude. Pouring himself a glass of water, he leaned against the counter, his thoughts a jumbled mess.

Y/N had been different tonight, and it had shaken him more than he wanted to admit. She'd barely looked at him, her usual shy, awkward charm replaced by a cold formality that felt like a punch to the gut. He replayed the moment over and over, searching for the exact second he must have done something to upset her.

But the more he thought about it, the more he realised it wasn't just her behavior that had unsettled him—it was how much it had affected him.

He liked her. He really, truly liked her. It was a quiet, consuming sort of affection that had taken him by surprise. At first, it had been easy to dismiss—the way his chest tightened when she smiled, the way his heart raced whenever their fingers brushed. But now, after months of stolen moments and lingering glances, he couldn't deny it anymore.

He thought about the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was nervous, the way her voice softened when she spoke to him, the way her cheeks flushed whenever he managed to fluster her. She was kind in a way that felt rare, genuine in a way that made him feel like maybe, just maybe, he wasn't beyond redemption.

But tonight, all of that had felt out of reach.

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. Whitney had been a mistake—a distraction Topper had pushed on him that he never should have agreed to. She'd been all wrong from the start, her shallow questions and empty compliments grating on his nerves. She didn't care about him; she cared about the idea of him, the money and status he represented.

But Y/N... Y/N had never treated him like that. She didn't care about his family name or his bank account. She didn't try to impress him or play games. She was just herself, awkward and sweet and so genuine it made his chest ache.

And now, he might have ruined everything.

The thought made his stomach churn. He didn't know how to fix it, didn't even know where to start. All he knew was that he couldn't bear the thought of her looking at him the way she had tonight—like he was a stranger, someone unworthy of her time.

Rafe set the empty glass down on the counter and scrubbed a hand over his face. He wasn't used to feeling this way, vulnerable and uncertain. But Y/N had a way of unraveling him, of making him question everything he thought he knew about himself.

He didn't deserve her, not really. But he couldn't stop himself from wanting her anyway.

As he climbed the stairs to his room, his thoughts were filled with her—her shy smiles, her quiet laughter, the way she made him feel like maybe he could be something more than the mess he'd become. He didn't know what the future held, but he knew one thing for sure: Y/N had changed him, and there was no going back.

—

Four days. Four endless, suffocating days.

Rafe Cameron had returned to the bar every single night since that dreadful evening, but each time, there was no sign of Y/N. It didn't sit right with him. The place didn't feel the same without her. She wasn't just another bartender—she was the lifeblood of the space, her sweet, slightly awkward energy drawing customers like moths to a flame.

But now, the warmth was gone. Without her behind the counter, it was just another dimly lit establishment, all noise and no soul.

By the fourth night, his restlessness was unbearable. He stepped into the bar, his sharp eyes immediately scanning the room. This time, she was there. Relief flooded him so quickly it was almost dizzying.

And then he saw who she was talking to.

Y/N was behind the bar, giggling softly as she leaned in closer to none other than JJ Maybank. Her hair slipped forward as she laughed, and she quickly brushed it out of her face, a move Rafe had seen her do countless times. It always left him breathless.

But this time, the sight filled him with a searing, unfamiliar rage.

What the hell was Maybank doing here? This was Kook territory, not The Cut. And worse, what was he doing talking to Y/N like that? The way JJ was leaning against the bar, all easy charm and flirtation, made Rafe's blood boil. He clenched his jaw so hard it ached as he watched JJ flash her one of his trademark smirks.

Rafe's fists tightened at his sides as he stalked over.

The second Y/N noticed him, her expression changed. The soft laughter disappeared, replaced by something guarded and uncertain. The shift stung more than he wanted to admit, but he wasn't here to dwell on it. His eyes flicked to JJ, narrowing with disdain.

"Well, if it isn't JJ Maybank," Rafe drawled, his voice dripping with contempt. "Didn't think you'd ever cross the bridge willingly."

JJ turned, unfazed, and smirked. "What can I say? The service here's worth it." He shot Y/N a wink, which only made Rafe's temper flare.

"Sure it is," Rafe muttered darkly, his gaze never leaving JJ. The air between them crackled with tension, but eventually, JJ shrugged and pushed off the bar.

"I'll catch you later, Y/N," JJ said casually before heading toward the group of Pogues gathered in the corner.

Rafe watched him go, his shoulders rigid with suppressed anger. When he finally turned back to Y/N, her expression was unreadable.

"Something I can get you, Cameron?" she asked coolly, her usual warmth noticeably absent.

Rafe hesitated for a moment before leaning on the bar. "Whiskey, neat—Please."

As she poured his drink, he couldn't stop himself from blurting out, "What was he even doing here?"

Y/N glanced up briefly, her expression neutral. "JJ's been here before. He's not exactly banned from Kookland, you know."

Rafe scoffed but didn't press the matter further. The silence between them was suffocating, and it took everything in him to break it.

"How's it been?" he asked, his voice softer now. "I uh, haven't seen ya' around."

She gave him a quick, noncommittal shrug. "Been busy."

The coldness in her tone stung, but Rafe couldn't let it go. He needed to understand what had changed.

"Look," he began, his voice low, "I feel like maybe I upset you the other night. Was it... Was it the girl?"

Y/N froze for a split second before resuming her task, but Rafe didn't miss the way her jaw tightened.

"How was your date, by the way?" she asked, her tone deceptively light.

"It wasn't a date," Rafe said quickly, his words tumbling over each other.

Y/N let out a sharp laugh, shaking her head as she turned to face him. "Rafe, come on. It very clearly was. She was practically glued to your side."

"It wasn't," he insisted, his voice firm. "Topper set it up. I didn't even want to go, and I haven't spoken to her since." He hesitated, his blue eyes meeting hers. "She's not really my type."

Something in his tone gave Y/N pause, but she was too hurt to let it show. "Right," she said flatly.

Before she could say more, Rafe's next question caught her off guard. "Are you seeing JJ?"

Her brows furrowed as she stared at him. "What?"

"Are you seeing him?" he repeated, his voice tense.

"No," she said slowly, setting her hands on the counter. "But he did ask me on a date."

The words hit Rafe like a punch to the gut, and before he could think better of it, he blurted out, "Don't go."

Y/N's eyes widened, and she crossed her arms. "Why not?"

Rafe faltered, the confidence he'd managed to muster evaporating under her sharp gaze. He opened his mouth, but the words caught in his throat.

"Exactly," she said bitterly, turning away to busy herself with a drink. "That's what I thought."

"Wait," Rafe said suddenly, his voice rough with desperation. "It's not— I..." He took a deep breath, his hands gripping the edge of the bar. "I like you, okay?"

The words hung in the air between them, heavy and raw.

Y/N froze, her heart hammering in her chest. Slowly, she turned to face him, her expression a mixture of shock and disbelief.

Rafe looked down, unable to meet her gaze. "I've been nervous to tell you because... because you're too good for me. You're sweet and kind, and I'm—" He broke off, shaking his head. "I'm not. I've got a lot of darkness, Y/N. I don't want to drag you into it or hurt you."

His voice cracked slightly, and he finally looked up, his blue eyes filled with vulnerability. "I don't want to break you."

For a moment, Y/N didn't say anything, the weight of his confession sinking in. Then, slowly, she stepped closer, her voice soft but firm. "You're not going to break me, Rafe."

His brows furrowed as he searched her face for any sign of hesitation, but all he found was quiet resolve.

"I can see the heart in you," she continued, her gaze steady. "You're different when you're around me, and I know it's real. You don't have to be scared of that."

Rafe's shoulders sagged slightly, relief washing over him like a wave.

"And for the record," she added with a small smile, "I'm not interested in JJ. He's been trying to win me over for a while now, but... it was never going to happen."

Rafe let out a shaky breath, his lips twitching into a faint smile. "Good," he muttered, his voice low.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her confidence returning. "Do you have something to ask me, Rafe Cameron?" she teased, a playful smirk tugging at her lips.

Rafe blinked, momentarily caught off guard, before shaking his head with a quiet laugh. He met her gaze, his expression softening. "Will you go out with me?"

Y/N's smile widened as she nodded. "Yeah. I will."

The tension between them melted away, replaced by a quiet understanding that felt both new and inevitable. For the first time in days, Rafe felt like he could breathe again, and Y/N couldn't stop the warmth blooming in her chest.

As the bar buzzed around them, they stood in their own little world, the first fragile threads of something real beginning to weave between them.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

i hope you enjoyed this anon !! i had sm fun writing this and thought it was a super sweet plot/concept so thank you for trusting me with it <3

still working my way through requests whilst also working on my little drew starkey mini series (sports car) so please be patient w me my loves :) but also still request any ideas you have ofc !!

#drew starkey #bettys asks !! ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚#rafe cameron #outer banks #bettys work !! ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚#fluff #obx #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron x yn #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe outer banks

2K notes · View notes

gracieheartspedro · 5 months ago

Text

For Cryin’ Out Loud

pairing: post-outbreak! joel miller x fem!reader

how to help the palestinians and what it means to write for the last of us characters

word count: 7.9k

description: living with joel is complicated, especially when you can’t sleep due to nightmares. when you find yourself in his bed, you can’t help yourself. but joel sure can. give him a day to mull it over.

warnings: pretty slow burn, kinda forced proximity, kinda angsty, unspecified age gap (don’t like it, don’t read it), joel gives you tons of nicknames (darlin’, kiddo, etc.), discussions of nightmares and possible mental illnesses, some fluff, reader isn’t really described, joel is kinda a gaslighter, he’s also a bit pervy, unprotected p in v (wrap it y’all), oral (f! receiving), dirty talk, joel like worships you!!!!!, joel licks his fingers clean, giving genitalia pronouns, joel’s a big boy. think that’s it. lemme know what I missed!

author’s note: I really enjoyed writing this. the idea is pretty simple but I love domestic jackson!joel. I promise i’ll try to switch it up soon and write something that isn’t jackson!era lol. support your fav fics by reblogging and commenting!! thanks love ya <3

For some reason, you always find yourself standing at the threshold of the front door when you cannot sleep.

The air was especially brisk tonight. You wrapped yourself in a gray chunky sweater you found in the lost and found in Jackson’s thrift store, hoping to regain some warmth. Your bed may have been comfortable, but it was the place where nightmares usually plagued you.

It was too late to be awake, and you knew that if you were caught, you would hear it from Joel. He always reprimanded you. Every time he caught you up late, it was like your father woke up and found your hand in the cookie jar.

The dynamic between you two had changed since arriving in Jackson, and you almost resented him for it. When it was just you, him, and Ellie, you were managing a family unit. Joel was always the protective father, you being the mom or the voice of reason, and Ellie being chaos.

When Ellie and Joel’s relationship shifted, he took on a fatherly role for you. It bothered you. A lot.

In a moment of contemplation, you hear footsteps coming down the steps behind you.

He’s wearing flannel pajama pants and no shirt, his hairy tummy something you did not see often.

“What are you doing awake?” He questions, his voice groggy with a twinge of annoyance.

You do not feel like explaining yourself, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to get out of this situation without a justification.

You huff, leaning your back against the door frame so you can get a full look at the broad man. “Can’t sleep. Thought staring into the darkness would help.”

He grunts, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “How’s that workin’ for you, sweetheart?”

You could not close your eyes without the haunting dreams that seemed lively and so real. Every night, you had the same recurring ones. You were being chased, hunted, or murdered. Or all of the above. You would wake in a cold sweat, not wanting to shut your eyelids ever again.

“Hm,” You say, staring back outside for a brief moment, “‘Was better when you weren’t looking over my shoulder.”

He chuckles, “Get back to bed.”

“I can’t, Joel.”

“You can and will. You’re no good when you’re tired.”

“If I close my eyes, Joel, I will just have the same goddamn nightmares I have every night. And I will end up doing what I’m doing now, which is trying to get some fresh air to forget them.”

“You’re not gonna forget ‘em with some fresh air. You just need to… get over them.”

The breeze picks up as soon as he says it, almost like the world knew the tension would have to be broken with some frigid air. You retort with, “And how do you get over yours?”

"I just accept them," he says, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. "I don't have time to dwell on them. There's always more important things to worry about."

"I'm more tired in the morning when I just endure them." You explain, trying not to cry about it. But you are so sick of them. The same thing every night.

“I get it. One day they will subside, I’m sure of it. But for now, you gotta-”

You just want him to shut up. At the same time, your mind is trying to remember the last time you did not have a nightmare. The memory makes your stomach churn. “You remember that one time we were forced to share that sleeping bag? Back in Pittsburgh?”

“Yeah,” His tone was wary, “What about it?”

"That was the first night I didn't have it." You explain, your voice a bit shaking at the insinuation. You don’t want to face the fact that Joel, the man that you have known for going on 10 years, kept your nightmares at bay. The same man who continuously rejected you and told you that he was old enough to be your dad. The same man that told you no, I don’t like you like that. I never will. That Joel.

“And? Why are you bringing this up now?”

"Because every night I go to my bed and I'm forced to face them alone. When you were there... they didn't even bother holding my mind hostage.”

He took another step closer, closing some of the distance between you two. He towers over you and you can’t help but stare up at him in awe. Joel has always been a complicated part of your life. You consider him your sexual awakening, honestly, but he will never ever know that. Over the years, he’s only gotten more handsome.

But now, he has a curious expression written all over his face.

"Are you saying you want to share a bed with me?" he asks, his voice gruff and low.

You suck in a deep breath, not wanting to answer. You knew that was stepping over a boundary for Joel. He liked his space. He didn’t like you impeding on that space, especially. Your bedroom was the furthest away from his for a reason.

"I don't know." You manage to say.

Joel's gaze darkened, his expression was completely unreadable. You wish you could read his mind, but you should be grateful you can not.

Because in Joel’s mind, he’s trying to formulate a way to convince you to stay away from him altogether. The wall he has built over the last decade was intentional. He did not want to hurt you any further. He already knew you had feelings for him, but he was an old man. He did not want to drag you into his mess, all the baggage he carried. He looked after you, he shared a home with you, and that’s it. Strictly platonic.

He shifted on his feet a little, unable to tear his eyes away from you. You shook like a little leaf.

"You don't know?" he repeated, his voice a low rumble.

You nod, "I don't know if I want that."

You do want that. But you want more, too. You knew you would be playing with fire. You would just be disappointed.

Joel’s temptations are buried deep but they still fester every now and again. Some days he would catch a glance at you getting dressed in the crack of your door and have to take a cold shower. As soon as he felt those emotions bubble in his chest, he would try to distract himself. Maybe he would take a longer patrol. Maybe he would go to the Tipsy Bison and try to find a woman to take home. That one never really worked.

“Well, what do you want then? Because standin’ at the door and letting all the cold air in ain’t gonna work for me or you.”

You look down at your picked-over fingernails and contemplate your next sentence. You don't want to be heartbroken in the morning when you wake up and he's there sleeping peacefully next to you and you're not... his.

"I want to sleep with you."

Joel was not expecting such a blunt response from you, but he appreciated you not beating around the bush about it. He gestures for you to step out of the doorway so he can shut the door, which you do.

He looked down at you, his eyes raking over your face, taking in the exhaustion and uncertainty.

"You sure?" he asked, his voice a gruff whisper.

You just nod as he locks the front door. You couldn’t believe you were doing this.

Joel couldn’t believe it either. Maybe it was the tiredness or the instincts he felt to protect you, but he was not mad at the idea of sharing his bed with you.

You signal for him to go upstairs, “You lead the way.”

Joel’s room was always off-limits to you. So when you step into his small little world, you take it all in.

The artwork around the room was mainly nature landscapes. He had a big dresser right at the room's entrance with picture frames of Sarah, Ellie, and other family members. You were even included in one photo—a picture of you and him on some horses from last year.

A shirt littered one side of the bed, so you took that as it was probably his side. Unfortunately for you, it was the right side. You felt a pang of guilt realizing you would probably end up restlessly lying in Joel’s bed if you were stuck on the left.

Before he can pull back the blanket for himself, you stop him.

“Uh, can I sleep on that side?”

He completely halts in his motions, turning his head towards you with a blank expression. “My side? Why?”

You lick your lips, already regretting this whole thing.

“Because I have had this superstition since I was a kid that I could only sleep on the right side of the bed."

Joel wants to laugh, but he doesn’t. He can tell you are at war in your head about the question, your expression practically anticipating his rejection.

"Superstitions, huh?" he said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips."You and your weird beliefs."

You watch as he crosses to the other side of the bed and lifts the blanket. Is he actually letting you have his side? Maybe he doesn’t hate you.

“You could also call it a compulsion, but superstitions seem more fun and less like a mental illness.”

He laughs this time, his deep chuckle making you feel a bit more relaxed about the situation. You did not feel like a burden as much. You walk to the right side and pull back his navy blue sheets and blanket. The spot looks warm and inviting so when you crawl in next to Joel, you start to realize that you’re back in the same situation you were in years ago in that sleeping bag. He was so close and warm and you wanted nothing more but for him to hold you and keep you comfortable.

But then another thing came to mind before you could imagine his arms around you.

You usually sleep on your right side or back, but now you don't know what to do because you didn't know how Joel slept.

"Do you sleep on your side or back?"

Joel studies you as you fidget beside him, your uncertainty causing him to smirk slightly. It was almost endearing, seeing you be completely out of control of your surroundings. He remembers back when you were traveling with him you had an obsessive need to straighten up everything before you fell asleep. You had to roll yourself up in your sleeping bag the same way every night.

"Usually on my back," he said finally. "But I can sleep on my side, too."

You swallow, trying to picture yourself sleeping. For some reason you felt the urge to have control of the situation, dictating exactly how he has to sleep, too. "Can I... I'll sleep on my side if you can sleep on your back? Is that okay?"

Joel had to suppress a smirk at your request. You knew he was trying to hold back a snarky remark. Instead, he surprises you.

"Sure, you can sleep on your side," he agreed, shifting his body weight onto his back, "’n I'll sleep on my back. No big deal."

You turn to face him, tucking the pillow further under your head. You can tell his eyes are heavy from exhaustion. You know it's time to shut up, to go to sleep, but you feel the need to say something else to him. Sometimes your brain concocts questions and statements and you know you shouldn’t say them, but your mouth betrays you.

"When was the last time you had a girl in your bed?"

Why the fuck would you ask that? You think to yourself. It fell out of your mouth like drool.

Joel's eyes widened at your blunt question, surprise and a hint of embarrassment coloring his expression. You knew he was probably just expecting you to lay here next to him, maybe roll around a bit, then sleep. But instead, it’s an interrogation.

He took a deep breath, his mind rattling around as he tried to think of a response. He didn't want to admit what his genuine answer was to you, but he too could not help himself.

"Why do you want to know that?" he asks, his voice steely.

You hate that he even responded because now you needed to defend yourself.

"I uh, don't know. I don't know why it matters."

Joel chuckled softly, noting that you probably just had a case of word vomit. You always told him you were infamous for putting your foot in your mouth, especially in awkward situations.

"Curiosity got the better of you, huh?" he asks, rubbing his face with his hands. “You just can’t help yourself, sweetheart.”

He shifted slightly, rolling onto his side to face you, his gaze studying your expression.

You smirk, grateful that he's letting it slide. When he turns onto his side and he's at eye level with you, your face drops a bit. He is ruining the vision in your head. He’s throwing a wrench in your plans.

"You're supposed to be on your back, sir."

Joel couldn't help but chuckle softly at your comment. He knew he was supposed to be on his back, but the new angle allowed him to see you better in the faint moonlight.

"Don't worry," he said, a hint of humor in his voice. "I'll turn back over in a minute. Just... enjoying the view for a bit."

You roll your eyes, lifting your hands from under the covers and lightly hitting his arm. You knew he was just fucking with you now.

"Okay, for that, I want to know the answer to my stupid question."

Joel let out a low laugh, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. He shook his head, amused by your persistence. You start to think about it and you have never really seen him bring anyone home. Maybe it had been a very long time and he was embarrassed.

"Alright, alright," he said, a hint of resignation in his voice. "Last time I had a girl in my bed..."

He paused for a moment, his eyes dropping to the covers, his mind racing to find the right words.

"Go on..."

Joel took another deep breath, his voice dropping even lower as he spoke.

"It's been a long time, kiddo," he admitted, his voice pierced with a bit of shame. "Almost ten years, if I'm being honest."

Your eyes widen in surprise. "No way... You've never just... got it on with someone in bed?"

Joel's face flushed with embarrassment at your blunt question, a mix of shock and slight irritation flashing across his eyes.

"Jesus, you really don't hold back, do ya?" he muttered. He shifts a bit, trying to get comfortable in a different way. He hadn't expected the conversation to turn so personal, so quickly and he did not want to face you anymore. He was mortified.

You mentally slap yourself in the face.

"I'm sorry, I am just tired and delusional. Uh, you don't have to answer that."

Joel could practically feel the humiliation radiating off you and he too felt the exact same way. You knew how to add to an already awkward situation.

"No, no, it's fine," he reassured you, his voice a bit gentler now. "I get it. You're tired, and your filter has taken a backseat."

"Yeah, exactly..."

He shifted on the bed, turning onto his back again, his gaze shifting to the ceiling, avoiding your curious stare.

You could not help but stare at his side profile. A prominent straight nose. His downturned lips are surrounded by some fine lines that show his age. He was a beautiful man now, but you can’t help but imagine him back in his 20s. He had to have been a hit with the ladies back then.

Joel could feel your gaze on him, studying his face. And while you were not scrutinizing him, he felt like a commodity in a museum or something. He forced himself to keep his gaze on the ceiling, refusing to meet your eyes.

"So… ten years and no sex?”

You could seriously, not help yourself.

"Correct.” He grumbles, still not meeting your stare.

"Damn, Joel." You mutter, adjusting a bit to sit up a little more on your pillow. "I seriously thought you were sleeping around the whole time we have been in Jackson.”

He finally turns your way, a bit of offense on his face. “Why would you think that?”

You shrug, not wanting to insult him. But that’s how you formulated your grudge towards him. It was easy to just chalk everything up to problems with random women you have seen around town.

“You just give off the energy…”

“What?”

You huff, laying back on the pillow. “I don’t know, Joel! I feel like when I’m around you all the ladies think you’re handsome. They stare.”

“They are staring because you’re always following me around and we aren’t married or… together. They think we are odd.”

You had never heard such things around Jackson, but it does sort of make sense. Everyone was probably just confused because you two lived together but were not a couple. You can admit it is bizarre, but it just did not feel like an option any other way, in your mind. So Tommy gave you two a bigger house and you set up separate rooms.

But in actuality, Joel secretly told Tommy that he did not want you too far from him. So when Tommy couldn’t give you any other houses nearby, Joel just told him that you two would be roommates.

“Well fuck ‘em.” You mutter, trying not to sound too offended by the thought of people gossiping about you two.

Joel just nods. You settle by tucking your arm under your pillow. You yawn, the exhaustion now taking over your body. You watch Joel grab a pair of reading glasses from the side table and a book. You decide not to bother him, especially because he probably wanted to just read himself to sleep instead of being interrogated by you any further.

You close your eyes and eventually fall asleep. The deeper you get, Joel notices how your breathing pattern changes. When he’s finally ready to get some shut-eye as well, he watches as your body crawls closer to him. Your arm swings over his stomach and rests on his forearm. He is so shocked he does not move a muscle.

You adjust some more, not knowing what you are doing. Your leg creeps up and tucks right between his. You snuggle your face right into his chest. The only movement Joel decides to make is slinging his arm over your shoulders to pull you in tighter.

It’s the first time in years that you two slept soundly, with no interruptions. No nightmares, no sudden intrusions, nothing. Silence and snores fill the room and that’s it.

When you wake up, it’s slow and gradual. Your brain hardly computes that you’re laying on top of Joel’s shirtless frame, until your hand runs across his warm tummy.

You crook your neck up, looking at the handsome man you are spreading across.

His lips are slightly ajar, letting out hardly-there snores. They are so pretty and pink and you cannot help but touch them with feather-like fingertips. You would feel so guilty waking him up-

His eyes slowly open taking notice of your actions even though you tried not to stir him. Your eyes fly open in shock, but he does not seem very annoyed. He smiles.

“Mornin’ darlin’,” He says in a deep sleep-laced voice. You smile back at him, loving that he decided to call you the nickname you always got giddy over. You press your fingers into his chest before replying.

“I didn’t have a nightmare.”

His hand comes up from your shoulders and tucks some hair behind your ear as he stares down at you, “That’s good kiddo. I’m glad you slept well.”

The intimacy is almost too much. The way this is how it would be if you woke up to Joel every morning. It sends your brain into overdrive and you force yourself to ruin it a bit.

“Woulda slept even better if you didn’t talk so much in your sleep.”

Joel froze for a moment, his cheeks immediately flushing pink with embarrassment. He sits up a bit more, adjusting to the brighter lighting in his room. He knew he had a problem with talking in his sleep. Ellie used to talk about it all the time. He dreaded hearing what he was saying while curled up next to you.

"Uh... what did I say?" he asked, trying to maintain his composure.

"Something about it felt so good to be pressed up against someone, I don't know..."

You could not help yourself and started to laugh. You knew you were going to get a rise out of him.

Joel's face flushed an even deeper shade of pink as you started to laugh, clearly amused by your joke. He could feel his heart racing in his chest, his mind racing as he tried to come up with an excuse. He was just dreaming, it was not about you.

"W-what?" he spluttered out instead of making an excuse. "I didn't... I didn't say anything like that."

You have a shit-eating grin on your face and you press your hands on his chest to prop yourself up. You enjoyed watching him squirm.

Joel's eyes flickered down to your hands on his chest. He sickly thought they felt so right placed there. He imagined what you would look like fully mounting him.

He tried to keep his expression neutral, but you could see through his stone-cold exterior.

"You're messing with me, aren't you?" he grumbled, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

"Fully fuckin' with you." You giggle, hoping he is not really that mad at you.

“You’re a brat.”

You move your foot slightly, running it up his leg. It sends shockwaves up his body, having you so close and moving around so seamlessly.

"No, you said something about how beautiful, alluring, and incredible I am. Said I was the girl of your dreams…"

"Yeah, right," he said, a hint of playful sarcasm in his voice. "You expect me to believe that?"

"So, you don't believe me?"

"No, I don't believe you," he says, his voice stern but playful. "I think you're a dirty little liar, trying to play me for a fool."

"A dirty little liar, huh? Well, it's good to know that you don't think I'm beautiful, alluring, and incredible." You giggle at his acknowledgment, knowing he caught you red-handed.

"Oh, I never said that," he smirked, a hint of teasing in his voice. "You are all of those things, darlin’. But you're also a dirty little liar who likes to play games."

"So you think I'm beautiful?" You crack, the biggest smile painted on your face. You don’t even care that he’s calling you a liar because it does not matter. Joel thinks you are beautiful.

“‘Course I do.”

You push yourself up onto your butt, sitting crisscross next to him. He secretly wishes you were still curled up on top of him.

“You always this nice in the morning?” You ponder, your fingertips starting to toy with the hair on his stomach. He tries not to pay mind to it, letting you have full access to touch him.

But it’s driving him insane. The way you look freshly woken up, completely enamored with the idea of him calling you beautiful. You have some puffiness under your eyes and your lips are more swollen than usual.

“I am always nice to you.”

You let out a scoff, “No, you’re not.”

He notices the shift in your tone and starts to get defensive, “Now you’re just lyin’.”

Joel always loved to gaslight you in these situations. You knew better than to let him get away with it, especially now. “No there was that one time you told me you did not like me and that you would never like me. How you are old enough to be my dad-”

“Because I am!”

And there’s the wall. The only constant in you two’s relationship. He was so good at throwing it up when feelings were being expressed. When vulnerability was presented, Joel could not help but reject it.

“And the world’s fuckin’ ended, Joel! Big deal!” You almost yell, moving your hands from him.

Why does he already miss your hands?

He huffs, crossing his arms over his soft chest. “We have had this conversation for the last 10 years.’M not sure why we keep rehashing it.”

“And every time you turn me down it’s another fuckin’ stab in the heart.”

“You know why we can’t,” He practically growls. You can not stand to even look at him anymore with your bitterness and irritation taking over.

“Whatever, Joel.”

As soon as you say it, you’re already leaving his room and heading to your own. When you slam the door, you hope you have made your point. You want to scream and punch a hole in the wall, but instead you just furiously stomp around the room and grab your clothes. You had patrol at noon, so you needed to get to the mess hall before breakfast was over. You try not to cry as you strip down and get dressed.

Joel sits in bed, reeling. He hates that it has become a conversation every six months. He hated that rejecting you always sent you into a spiral of hating him for extended periods. It’s not that he did not want you, it was simply just not in the cards. He was too old to be in love. He was too old to play house with you. He just could not submit to the idea of leading you on, especially because you had so much more life to live.

He finally works up the courage to get out of bed and put on some clothes. He opts for putting on his typical jeans and thick flannel. It was getting colder and he knew by the end of the winter, you would end up with half his flannels anyway, so he had to enjoy them while he had them.

You storm downstairs, going to the back door for your boots when you spot him in the kitchen.

“You got pat-”

“Yes.” You respond quickly, shoving your foot into your shoes. He stands behind you with a mug full of tea, watching your every move.

“Who are you-”

“Jesse.”

He was asking his usual questions, which you were not in the mood to answer.

“Hey, can you-”

You snap your head back at him, giving him the glare you gave him as a warning usually. By now, he takes it as a hint and backs off. But not this time.

“Can I what?”

He rolls his eyes, “Can you fuckin’ not be a brat about this?”

You wish your glare came with knives. If that were the case, Joel Miller would be dead on his kitchen floor.

You are so thrown off by the question that you just watch him get angrier when you do not respond.

“Are you serious, right now?” You press, keeping your voice from cracking.

He brings the mug up to his mouth, taking an obnoxious sip. When he pulls the mug away, you notice how steaming it is. “You always pull this shit-”

“No, you do! You do this shit to me every fuckin’ time, Joel. You sweet talk me, make me feel comfortable, have me lapping everything up in the palm of your hands, and then you snatch it away. Then have the audacity to get mad at me!”

You are yelling now and it is throwing him off. Joel knows better than to interrupt you like you do to him. You were the kind of person who would calm down if you felt heard.

The way he knew you down to your core made this all so painful. Because if he was not so stubborn and true to his convictions, he would have fucked you the moment you touched his lips this morning.

“I ain’t tryin’ to make this harder than-” “Too fuckin’ late.”

You think back to the moment last night when you knew you were going to hurt your own feelings by sleeping with him. You knew better, yet here you are, still blaming him for your stupidity.

He stands there, still holding his mug, staring you down like a wounded doe who got pierced with an arrow. He feels guilty like he misled you. Before he can say anything, you are lacing up your boots and leaving out the front door without another word.

All day long, Joel wanders around the house trying to get rid of the pit in his stomach. Nothing works. A shower. Reading a book. Cutting wood. As soon as he tried to use laundry as a distraction, he reached into his hamper and found one of your t-shirts. He held it close and smelled it, trying to wrap his head around how he got here.

You spend all day, silently fuming on horseback with Jesse. When he tries to get you to open up, you ice him out and tell him to focus on the trail in front of him.

You get back by sundown, the sun setting making it a lot chiller than you expected. You decide to take the long way home, wanting to avoid being home for as long as possible. You were not ready to face Joel, let alone share a space with him. But unfortunately, during your patrol, you fell into some mud and needed a shower. The more time it spent on your clothes and body, the grosser you felt.

You open the front door, announcing that you are home. It was a habit you and Joel developed after you both pulled guns on each other during late-night arrivals.

You hear Joel mumble something from the living room, but you do not stop to listen and continue on your way upstairs to the bathroom.

You strip down as soon as the door is closed, tossing your muddy clothing into a hamper in the corner. You would get them washed and hung as soon as you shower off.

You hear Joel’s footsteps creaking around the upstairs hallway as you scrub your body with homemade soap and warm water.

When you start to dry yourself off, you hear Joel grunting something in the hallway. You wrap yourself in a towel and peek your head out the door. He’s on his hands and knees wiping something off the hardwood. “What’s goin’ on?”

He looks up at you, your body only covered in a bleach-stained blue towel. It makes his head spin. He can’t even be mad that you tracked in mud.

He swallows, gripping the cloth he’s using tighter. “You got mud everywhere.”

You step out, not even really thinking about the fact that you are not properly dressed in front of Joel. You were still mad at him, anyway. Who cares what he thinks?

“Sorry, I could’ve cleaned it up.”

He returns to wiping the wood, “It’s fine, I got it, kiddo.”

You accept his response and move on to your room, but the draft you leave behind drifts to Joel’s nostrils. Your soap smells like lavender and it always sends his mind racing when you are fresh from a shower. He clears his throat, trying to get through the emotions filling his chest.

But it’s been like this all day. You’re all around him even when you’re not physically here. How can he get away from you? Why is he trying to run in the first place?

He’s on his knees in your hallway, cleaning up your mess, sniffing the air you leave behind because he’s fucking in love with you and he cannot help himself anymore.

Joel starts to think about how peaceful he felt having you next to him last night and how he would love to feel that way every night. For once he’s not thinking about what everyone else would think. For once he’s thinking selfishly and caving into every desire he has ever pondered about you. How would you feel under him? How would your lips feel pressed against his pulse point?

His body was on fire, thinking about you.

You are fiddling with some clothes in your dresser after you flick on the overhead light. You do not hear him come into your room behind you.

You are so wrapped up in your own thoughts that when he clears his throat to announce he’s in your room, you scream. Loud.

“For cryin’ out loud, woman!”

You grip your towel tighter when you turn and see him standing at your mercy.

“Joel, what the fuck?” You yell, gesturing to the fact that you are practically naked. He does not care, of course, and his ears are ringing from your piercing scream. He gathers himself as you shift back, trying to create some distance from him.

He is trying not to gawk at the fact that your grip on the towel against your chest is only pushing up your cleavage. He’s biting back everything. “Can we talk?”

“Talk about what? The fact you crept into my room when I was trying to change? Are we past boundaries now?”

You are pissed, trying not to rattle off another million things to discuss with him. He’s only really talking about one thing.

He scoffs at your last statement. “Boundaries were already out the window when you crawled into bed with me last night.”

Silence fills the room as you completely stop breathing. The anger you originally felt dissipates.

“Joel-“

“I ain’t doin’ this back and forth anymore,” He starts shifting in his spot, unsure if he really should be doing this. “I can’t live how I've been livin’. Somethin’s gotta give.”

You furrow your eyebrows, confused.

“You are the one who won’t give, Joel.”

As soon as you say it, he practically drags himself over to you. Completely destitute. You have never seen him look so desperate before. You can tell that he’s been at war with himself ever since you left this morning. His eyes never lied.

His hand creeps up your bare arm, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

But then you remember his words from this morning. You start feeling like this is just a moment of weakness for him and that he will regret it later. You had to stop it before it was too late. You did not want to deal with the consequences.

“Joel, you said we can’t-”

“Fuck what I said,” He cuts you off, “Do you want this?”

You stare into those brown eyes, searching for a sign of hesitance. You cannot believe Joel is being this vulnerable with you.

But, you do want him. God, you have wanted him so badly for so long. You have searched for him in every man you have ever been with since knowing him.

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out. He takes note of your parted lips, every word failing you at that moment.

“Darlin’-”

“Yes,” You finally manage. “Yes, I do want this.”

It’s all he needs. He closes the gap between you two by wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his space. His lips crash onto yours, not wasting another breath of air waiting to indulge in his sickest fantasies.

You are all Joel ever dreamed about. He knew that once he caved and physically gave in, his world would be shot and everything would revolve around you. For years it had been a teetering object on a cliff, one nudge would have him falling. He always managed. But now, he was falling head first.

His lips move so perfectly with your own. Your hand released your towel and found the tufts of his curls at the base of his head. You did not care that the article pooled around your feet, leaving you completely bare in front of Joel. You have wanted this all along. To be uncovered, to be stripped down to the rawest form. He broke the kiss briefly just to scan your naked body, his forehead pressed against your own.

“Fuck, you are so beautiful.”

Your heart stutters as his hand traces your stomach down to your hips, all the way down to your ass. He stops there, grabbing a handful.

“I need you,” You choke out before pressing your lips to his over and over again. “Right now.”

He mumbles “jump” into your mouth and you do so, his hands working quickly to hike you up onto his waist. He carries you to your bed, wasting no time dropping you onto your back.

He cannot get enough of your soft, swollen lips. Every time he pulls away slightly, he dives in again even more aggressively than the last time.

You are so hypnotized by the way he feels on top of you. In the light, he seems so much broader than he was last night. He’s still fully clothed, to your dismay. You start to tug at his shirt, motioning him to remove the articles that are in your way.

He throws off his shirt before he stands up at the edge of the bed and pushes down his jeans.

“Joel… I-“

He just shuts you up with another passionate kiss. It’s all tongue and teeth like he’s trying to melt into your mouth. Your hands trail up his back, gripping onto his shoulders, holding him down so he is pressing against your nude body.

“God, I have wanted this for so long,” He sputters, trying not to sound too desperate. “Been wanting this.”

That’s when his hand reaches down between your thighs and gathers the wetness your slit has to offer. His fingers dance across it, starting from the top all the way to your spongy entrance.

“Please, Joel.”

He loves the lust-laced tone you speak with when you say his name. It almost makes him cum there and then.

You watch as he makes his way down your body, peppering kisses from your shoulder to your hip. When he parts your legs, you feel quite exposed. The adrenaline of being so spread for him manifests into a moan.

“You are divine, baby.”

The use of that adjective is so-not-Joel that it makes you giggle. He notes your reaction and decides to sink down into you. When his mouth gets close to your core, it’s no longer a laughing matter.

He uses his fingers again, using them to spread open your pussy lips. He cannot keep his eyes away from how dripping you are. “This all for me?”

“Y-yes, Joel.”

“God, I was a fuckin’ fool for so long. Could’ve had her earlier and I never fuckin’ caved. Such an idiot.”

Him giving your cunt pronouns was enough to have you throwing your head back and shuttering. His touch was magnetic like he knew exactly what buttons to push as he rubbed his fingers and palm over your core.

“Yeah, you’ve been missin’ out. Every night…” You swallow before looking down at the man that is enamored with your pussy, “E-every night I would lay in this bed, fuckin’ myself just thinkin’ about you.”

He growls at the statement, before teasingly kissing your clit. “Every night, hm, kiddo?”

“God, yes.”

Your eyes squeeze shut as he leans forward more and dives in. His nose is pressed firmly against the top of your pussy, nudging forward every time his tongue enters your hole. When that motion became consistent, you began to note the rumblings in the pit of your stomach. A familiar build-up that you managed to get when you were playing with yourself.

His fingers move in tandem with his lips and tongue. While his middle and pointer finger slide in and out of you, his lips wrap around your clit. It’s overwhelming and all-consuming.

You do not know where to center yourself, so your hands grip the bed sheets you were completely soaking as Joel pulls the first orgasm out of you.

“That’s it, baby, she’s cryin’ for me, hm?”

You hardly make a noise, the orgasm is so earth-shattering that you just writhe on the mattress.

“Oh my god…” You groan, finally able to catch your breath. When Joel removes his fingers from you, you watch as he slowly brings them up to his lips.

When he inserts them in his mouth, you gawk at him, unsure how to react. He watches your expression and chuckles darkly.

“Mm, never seen a man enjoy the taste of ya?”

You shake your head. “Never expected to hear those words leave your mouth, either.”

“Wait ‘til you hear what else I got to say.”

He stands up beside the bed, grabs your hips, and brings them to the edge. He is tossing you around with ease, bringing your lower body flush with his. He yanks down his briefs, revealing himself to you. You instantly take notice of how well-endowed he is. You never thought you would ever be close to his cock, let alone have it lining up at your entrance.

“Joel…“ You stop him with your small voice, but still welcoming him in with your legs opened wide, “I don’t know if it will fit.”

He grins, “It will, baby. Just relax for me, okay?”

You watch him slide his member along your center, the feeling so blissfully overstimulating. You whine a bit, raising your hips to his.

But Joel continues his torture, enjoying the way you’re squirming under him. The way your eyebrows are knitted together, your eyes shut as you grind up into him. It’s the prettiest sight.

“Ready?”

Your eyes fly open as you watch him ease his way into your core, the sound of squelching filling the room. You don’t think you have ever been this wet for someone.

“Oh my fuckin’ god, Joel…”

He smiles as he inches in, “Squeezin’ my cock so good, darlin’.”

When he’s fully sheathed inside, he tests the waters by drawing out slowly. You roll your hips in a circle, trying to feel out every inch of him. He fits, but you know once he starts to move faster, the stretch will become overwhelming.

He’s trying to focus and not blow his load immediately. You look so beautiful below him, your tits slowly shifting back and forth every time he draws back and forth. He reaches out, wanting to feel the flesh between his fingers. God, he craved every inch of you, he realizes.

You open your legs as far as you can, letting him hit you at a different angle. The movement allows him to slip in a bit more seamlessly, so when he speeds up his thrusts, you don’t feel like you will completely split in half.

He brings your leg up to hips, and feeling your soft delicate skin against him makes him lose all sense. His hips snap faster the more you moan out for him.

“Fuckin’ Christ, girl. I can’t believe I was missin’ out on this cunt,” He babbles, “Need this cunt every day from now on. Gonna have you all to myself every night.”

You are too fucked out of your mind to read into those implications.

“‘M all yours, Joel.”

He smiles, slowing down a bit. “Keep talkin’ like that and ‘ll finish a lot sooner than you.”

You sit up a bit, your eyes flickering over his entire body. He notices you checking out his nude frame, which makes him feel a bit more bold. He leans down, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. You love the way his tongue slips into your mouth so effortlessly. When he opens his mouth, his facial hair tickles your nose a bit which makes you smile. When his hips pick back up to a quicker pace, it sends you gasping into his mouth.

“Please, Joel,” You whine, that familiar build starts up but this time it’s like a freight train. Moving so quickly down every nerve ending in your body. “I’m gonna cum.”

“‘M with you, darlin’. Soak this dick. I’m right behind ya.”

His dirty talk causes the crash. Your body practically lifts off the mattress. You cry out so loud you are sure a neighbor could hear you. You try to gain your bearings, but you are panting like you just ran a mile.

Joel fucks you through it, but the restriction your pussy is putting on his cock sends him over the edge. His hips stutter into yours, his seed emptying into your spent hole. He just keeps repeating your name as his thrusts slow down.

He has never had such a visceral orgasm in his life. His knees are weak and can hardly keep up his weight. He practically falls on top of you, which does not offend you at all. His warm sweaty body on top of you is almost reassuring.

“You okay, kiddo?” He finally mutters as his hot breath fans the nape of your neck. You just nod, bringing your hand up to his salt and pepper hair. You tug lightly, smiling to yourself.

“I’m more than okay.”

He finally sits up, his cock spilling out of you as he adjusts his position. Your hole drips a mixture of cum onto your newly clean sheets, but you could care less. It’s just another thing to hand wash tonight.

Joel stumbles to the middle of the room, picking up your bath towel. He uses it to wipe himself up before coming over to you. Your legs are still slightly apart so he decides to clean you up a bit. He’s gentle, knowing that you are probably still sensitive.

Once he finishes up, he crawls next to you as you continue to recover. Your bones felt like jello so standing up to adjust yourself was not an option.

So instead of facing him, you stare up at your ceiling fan as his eyes lock onto every detail of your profile. It brings him back to one night you two shared under the stars a couple of years ago. It was his turn to keep watch so you curled up in your sleeping bag by the fire. He admired you from across the flames, the orange hues lit up every angle of your face. It was at that moment that Joel realized that he could not picture his life without you. You had weaseled your way into every facet of his life and he used to resent the impact you had on him. You were younger, more patient but still stubborn like him. You made him laugh, like genuinely laugh, for the first time since the infection. While you may have been a bit impulsive with your emotions, he envied the way you could say exactly what you were thinking.

Joel did not want to love you, but it was impossible not to.

You finally look over at him, noticing the softness in his gaze.

“Are you okay?” You pose, scrunching your nose.

He gives you a toothless smile, his eyes crinkling a bit. “I just can’t wait to sleep next to you for the rest of my life.”

tags of people I love and who may wanna read (no pressure I just love u) (some of u did ask tho) : @ashleyfilm @hockeyhughes @pedrospookie @guiltyasdave @amanitacowboy @myownwholewildworld

#joel miller tlou #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x afab!reader #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal #tlou au #tlou fic #tlou smut #joel miller fanfiction #fic: for cryin’ out loud #the last of us smut #gracieheartspedro

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kitimeq · 4 months ago

Text

surprise encounter 🤍 sylus 秦

pairing: sylus x reader

summary: You’ve been playing love&deepspace ever since the game came out and it became your comfort place now. You like all of the boys, but you have the highest affinity with sylus, who had your heart in a grasp ever since the beginning. Who would’ve thought that he shares the sentiment? And after your monthly absence from the game, he decides to pay you a little visit and finally confess to all of it (and maybe kind of try to kidnap you in the process too oho).

tropes: fluff, angst to fluff, fluff to angst to fluff? fluff to angst to fluff to angst to fluff???? idk angst with happy ending!

word count: no idea, it goes on for days sorry. (7k!!)

warning!: i apologize for any mistakes, i am not a native speaker of english!! if you see any errors you can write me a dm and i will correct them for sure ♡ and i think it gets better later! i can’t write for shi, especially the beginnings, and the second part was fueled by my delulu so it is probably much more fun to read 🤍

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ ⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙

You liked days like these: quiet days, lazy ones, when you didn’t have any errands to run, meetings to attend, or people to please. You could just stay inside for the whole day, reading your favorite books and playing cozy games, spending your time however you wanted. Today was Saturday and you didn’t have to go to work until Monday and you decided that you finally deserved to have some rest after the last couple of weeks of almost working yourself to the bone due to the amount of the assingments you had to complete at work. You often had to stay after hours or work from home to complete everything in time. Your work was not usually that challenging, but there were certain times of the year when everyone at your job had their hands full and when it happened, you were almost completely cut off not only from your social, but also personal life. However, you never complained, because you actually liked what you were doing, and even if the occasional hard times were inevitable, your work brought you so much fun and satisfaction.

And today was a good day! You finally finished everything you had to do, so you could go back to your favourite game. You didn’t have time to play recently due to the amount of work, up to the point that you didn’t even bother to check in to grab some stamina. Usually, love&deepspace was an important part of your day - you logged in there at least twice a day, completed every task thrown your way and had a blast doing so, but these couple of weeks were so hard for you that you almost forgot about it completely. But even if you were too busy, you thought about the boys from time to time, as well as about the events that you were probably missing out on. You really hoped that if some new events had taken place during that time, that they did not involve Sylus, because if you had missed them, you would be slightly devastated.

Sylus was your favorite. Ever since the beginning, there was something about him that caught your attention. You downloaded the game after his announcement and haven’t looked back since. You played with other boys as well, but your time with Sylus was always the most memorable. Not only was he extremely attractive in your eyes, as well as the eyes of other players around the world, but you also understood his character, adored his little jokes and mannerisms, and could safely say that he made your life a little more exciting. You knew that it probably sounded lame to someone who didn’t play such games, and you were aware that he wasn’t real, but you enjoyed yourself regardless. In your real life, you had some experience with men and were pretty popular among them; however, you never felt comfortable enough to form more serious romantic relationships.

Here, with Sylus, you didn’t have to worry about such things. You were aware that he was only a game character and maybe that was why you were so honest with him from the very beginning. You knew that he wouldn’t judge you, misstreat you or make you miserable - he was created in a way that was supposed to make your playthrough enjoyable so you didn’t have to worry about your responses in the messages for him or your real life reactions to everything he said or did. You could just be yourself. And you loved how freeing that felt.

That is why you felt so excited ever since you woke up. Because you knew that today you could finally go back to playing l&d, and you could meet up with your Sylus after so much time apart. You quickly did your chores, spent some time on self-care to slightly relieve the fatigue from the weeks before, you put on your favourite cozy outfit and finally clicked the ”enter game” button.

And there he was. Sylus was standing in the cafe, wearing his extremally attractive biker outfit and you caught yourself sighing dreamily at the sight of him. You missed him so bad, you missed the little memories you shared and the sound of his voice. You missed playing kitty cards with him, catching plushies together and even looking for that bastard Tobias again and again. You couldn’t help but smile brightly at him.

“Hi Sylus, you have no idea how happy I am to see you.” You said cheerfully, feeling kind of dumb for it but you couldn’t help yourself. You often talked out loud to him during your playtime.

You watched him blink slowly once, then twice, and you started to think that there was something wrong with the server because his response should have already been uttered. But then the look on his face changed. At first, he appeared really shocked and relieved, but then a little frown appeared between his perfect little eyebrows.

“Where the hell have you been?” He responded quickly and it shocked you. You didn’t know that they could swear in the game, but after connecting some dots you figured that it had to be included in the special responses after the player was away for some time.

“At work mostly, been so busy lately but now I’m back and ready to defeat some Wanderers!!” You fist bumped the air above you, you couldn’t contain your excitement.

You also noticed that his expression stayed the same. He was silent, looking at you through your phone screen with bewilderment, and he looked almost hurt. In an attempt to provide some comfort to him, you swiped your finger gently through his hair and across his cheek. However, when you touched his cheek, he closed his eyes and nuzzled into your finger, which made you widen your eyes in surprise. Was that always a thing? Was he always so responsive to your touch? It had to be a new feature; you didn’t remember him being so lively.

“Next time you decide to leave me without a word, I think I’m going to take more drastic measures, sweetie” He said while opening his eyes. You couldn’t help but notice he did look different than usual. More… realistic? Even the way in which he moved his body looked so smooth.

“If not for Mephisto, I would have worried sick about your safety. You can't do this to me every time you have more work than usual; you have to visit me, even if it's just for a minute. I won't exaggerate when I say that I almost went insane after the first week of your cruel silence” And at that you were completely stunned. Should he talk this much? He never talked this much. And how could he know that you had more work than usual? Was that a lucky guess on the studio’s side?

“That’s so weird…” You whispered and touched his hand to trigger some kind of reaction that would appear more usual than what was happening right now.

“Is that your way of catching me of guard? If you wanted to hold my hand so badly kitten, then you would have visited me sooner. I will not let myself be distracted by your cute little behavior” He raised the hand you touched and crossed his arms at his chest, while continuing to frown. And you were still so, so confused.

“Promise me that you won’t leave me again, I know where to find you now.” You raised your eyebrows and bit your lip gently. You started to feel a little bit out of place, you knew that he was not real, but he sounded kind of scary. His voice was demanding, and the part about him finding you? You shivered involuntarily.

“What happened? Cat got your tongue, kitten? Or did you finally understood the selfishness of your actions?” Sylus continued and you opened your mouth in awe. “Promise. Me.” He said slowly, his gaze unnerving. Suddenly you heard a series of loud caws outside on your balcony. The sound made you jump in place, and you dropped your phone on your bed. Was that a freaking crow?? Outside your apartament???

You quickly picked up your phone and cursed softly. You were going insane. You got scared just because the game had an update you did not know about. You almost wanted to laugh at how stupid that was. Almost. Because Sylus walked up to the front of your phone screen and spoke to you again.

“Why are you hesitating? Are you really planning to leave me again?” You swore you never heard him so hurt.

“No!” You said before you could think.

“No?” He answered immediately, which scared the hell out of you. “I am not sure I believe you. And I can’t stand it. I can’t stand being away from you anymore.” He took two steps back and closed his eyes.

That was when the game crashed. Your phone appeared to be broked too, after the colourful lines appeared on the screen, flickered a couple of times and the whole screen turned black. You threw the device away from you and your heart started beating so fast you could hear the blood pulsing in your ears. You were so confused and genuinely scared. Was there an update that switched the genre of the game to horror? You were stunned.

And then you heard the knock.

You almost jumped out of your slippers. You brought your hand to your heart in order to calm yourself down and you started taking slow, deep breaths. It’s just a game. It’s just a game. Besides, how did Sylus, of all people, managed to scare you so badly? You adored that character, and you should know that he was prone not only to exaggeration, but also to intimidating behavior. That was literally one of his characteristics. So you forced yourself to calm down and opened the damn door, because it was probably either a mailman, or one of your friendly neighbors, and here you were making a scene like some kind of a delusional psychopath.

One. Two. Three.

You opened the door, and at first all you could see was a huge cloud of black mist. You closed your eyes in order to keep the mist from clouding your vision and then you felt wind pushing you gently further into your apartament. You heard the door close and the sound of the key turning in the lock. Everything happened so fast. And when you opened your eyes your knees almost buckled.

Sylus.

Sylus was all you could see. He was standing in front of you, in your own apartament, looking so out of place that you wanted to laugh. The first thing that you noticed about him was that he was huge, you couldn’t really see past him, and the more you looked at him, the more real he appeared to be. Soft-looking silver hair, rugged skin, that perfect nose and those piercing eyes. They looked into yours now, and at first they seemed to be searching for something, and after one quick second they visibly softened. You could also see how his handsome, oh so handsome mouth started to display his signature little smirk. And that was when you started to tremble.

“W-wha—” You tried to say something, anything but your mouth was not working. You have never been so confused and scared in your entire life. “Who—W-who are—” He was starting to close the distance between you and that is when the panic finally took over your body. You flinched and went to take a step back, but you slipped on your soft carpet.

Yet you didn’t fall. You felt the gentle caress of the mist that managed to caught you before you hit the ground, and it streightened your posture so that now you stood tall in front of the man.

“Careful kitten, I do not think that falling on four feet applies to you.” He spoke out loud for the first time and the voice was so familiar to you. It was the same, deep, husky timbre that you loved to hear, the same voice that made you squeal in happiness, that lulled you to sleep countless of times. You couldn’t believe it.

“Oh my god, am I dead?” He laughed softly at your reaction and looked at you through his lashes. “This can’t be happening.”

”Oh but it is. I knew that I would find my way to you, I just needed time.” He said and tried to close the distance between you, but you didn’t let him. Every step forward he took, you took one back. “It was so hard to find you. But after you disappeared without saying a word I think I got desperate.” Something flashed in his eyes. You recognized it as determination.

He stopped walking when he noticed that you were getting too close to the balcony. He straightened his posture, and you almost released a gasp. He was huge. And he was real. Alive and so, so real, that you had trouble breathing. You were so scared, but at the same time, so happy to see him, that your body didn’t know how it should react. You just looked at him, taking him in, trying to assess whether it wasn’t your mind playing tricks on you, or if it wasn’t some random man breaking into your apartment and your brain had created a new, fantastic defense mechanism. But no, the longer you took him in, the more similarities you managed to notice: the scar in the corner of his eye, his unevenly clipped fingernails, strong but dry hands, olive skin, slim lips, long, slightly furrowed eyebrows. The not-so-hidden gentleness in his gaze as he was taking you in himself.

“It’s really you.” You managed to breathe out.

“You’re so beautiful.” He answered and his voice was slowly starting to make you feel these familiar butterflies. “So, so magnificent.” He continued. You felt your cheeks heat up and he seemed to drink that reaction in. “Will you talk to me more? You sound angelic. I did not think that you could sound even better than you did through the phone but I guess you will never fail to surprise me, sweetheart.” He did not move an inch. He just looked at you, and you still didn’t know how to react, but you were slowly coming to terms with the fact that it was not a weird dream. He was here and he didn’t appear to have bad intentions. At least you wanted to believe that.

“You’re still trembling. Are you really that scared of me?” He pressed his lips into a line.

“I’m sorry. I just… I’m just not sure what is happening. I had no idea you were… real.” He laughed softly at that.

“You wound me, kitten. Is that your way of unleashing your little claws?” He continued with a small smile on his lips and you couldn’t take it. He looked… stressed. And you thought that was new for him. You spend so many hours playing with him in l&d but you have never seen him so stressed.

Everything that came out of his mouth was slow and precise, not a word was spoken without a purpose. However you could see by his appearance that he was uncertain.

“Of course I’m real. And all the time we spent together is real too. Was it so wrong of me to expect that you would be at least a little bit happier to see me?” He was starting to look hurt. But not angry, not displeased. More concerned than anything, and that was when most of your worries started to disappear. He was your Sylus. He really was.

“I am happy to see you. I really am.” You said truthfully, the fear slowly dissolving. “What are you doing here? How did it happen?”

“When you left me, I was worried to death. I had to come see that you were alright for myself.” He said, not taking his eyes off of you. “I found a path between our worlds, and first I sent Mephisto after you. And that was how I knew you were fine, just busy.” He started explaining slowly and put two fingers at the bridge of his nose. This gesture was so familiar that you felt a slight pang in your chest. “Which l understand. But you stopped visiting completely and I panicked that I lost you. And that you lost your interest in me. And when you logged in today I guess I just lost control over myself.”

“I had to see you. I had to feel you. I needed to know that you will never leave me like that again. But how could I be so sure if you thought I was not real, sweetie?” His voice carried a hint of a ridicule. He smirked slowly and you allowed yourself to relax. You spend so much time with him on your phone, that you knew when he really needed reassurance. And it was the first time you saw him being so honest about his own feelings.

You decided to step closer to him and his eyes widened slightly. His body tightened because of the sudden change in proximity, and when you gently touched his hand bringing it to your mouth, he appeared to be rendered speechless.

“I would never leave you, Sy. At least not without saying goodbye first. You are my safe space, remember?” You said quietly and smiled at him brightly, reminding him of what you had written in your game bio. And then you brought his knuckles to your lips and placed a soft kiss upon them. His hands were much warmer than you expected them to be. They felt harsh, but gentle.

The next thing you heard was a soft grunt and you felt yourself being suddenly lifted in the air. You yelped and found yourself pressed against his big, solid chest. Sylus hugged your body to his by wrapping both of his arms around your torso, and when he realized that you weren’t comfortable, he put one hand under your thighs and brought your body to his by your waist. You let your arms wrap around his neck and squeezed, and he buried his head in the crook of your neck. You heard him inhale your scent and his breath became rigged, as if he could not contain his excitement. You also became familiar with his scent. He smelled so manly and comforting, you could catch some notes of wood and leather, and something surprisingly sweet.

“You smell divine. You’re so soft, so warm.” He breathed against your neck and you felt goosebumps spreading throughout your whole body. You were so embarrassed, you felt like you needed to release some tension.

“I did not expect you to be so open with me. You’re usually the teasing type.” He chucked deeply and put his forehead against yours, while closing his eyes. Your cheeks burned. You couldn’t believe it wasn’t a dream.

“There will be a time for teasing you, kitten.” He rubbed his forehead against yours slowly. “Right now let me enjoy you for a bit. I can’t believe I finally got to see you.” He squeezed you harder to him. You reciprocated the hug with all you had. You were actually kind of scared that your grip was too hard, but he seemed to bask in it. “Communicating through that small device was not nearly enough for me. I could always see you and I heard your little responses to everything I was saying. But it took me some time to figure out how to change some things up.” Your eyes went wide at the mention of your reactions, you knew that a lot of times there were beyond embarrassing, but you decided your blush to speak for itself. But what truly caught your attention was how he managed to appear in your home.

“Change things up?? You must have made such a mess, will it really be okay?” The concern in your voice made him look up and find your eyes with his. You were now looking at his beautiful red ones, so full of adoration and determination. You could see that the consequences of his actions did not matter to him at all.

“Sweetie, I would gladly burn the world down for you, even if it meant that I could see you just once.” You swallowed audibly and proceeded to shy away from his piercing gaze. You started to feel unworthy of such attention, you couldn’t quite grasp what exactly made him care about you to such extend. “Fortunately for everyone, the process did not involve starting an intergalactic war.” He smirked slowly, his eyes finding your lips and staying there for much longer than necessary. “Yet.”

You chuckled at that and proceeded to bury your fingers in his hair, stroking the strands with care. They were so soft to the touch, they reminded you of silk. He closed his eyes and let you touch him to your heart’s content. Your hand quickly found its way to his forehead, and then to his cheek, stroking the skin delicately. You couldn’t believe how someone so handsome could really exist.

“See something you like, kitten?” He said and nuzzled into your palm, pressing a kiss right there. ”You will have all the time in the world to touch me when we arrive in the N109 Zone.” He seemed so peaceful, so content with himself, but the mention of the N109 Zone stopped you in your tracks. You tensed visibly and he opened his eyes, noticing the change in your posture.

“The N109 Zone?” You asked puzzled. “Are you taking me away for a weekend?” You took your hand from his face and he used his Evol to bring it back to his cheek. The mist around your fingers felt weird, but not unpleasant.

“For a weekend? No, no.” He locked his eyes with yours, his head slowly closing the distance between you. He licked his lips and looked at your mouth once again. “I am taking you away forever.” And before his lips managed to touch yours, you flinched. Your hands quickly pushed him away and the panic returned to your features.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I meant what I said. Pack your bags if you believe there is something that I cannot provide for you quickly enough, and we will be off shortly.” He said matter of factly, kind of annoyed by the distance you decided to put between you. “Luke and Kieran have already prepared a room for you, although I think that you will have more than enough space for your belongings in mine.” His eyes brightened with excitement that you unfortunately could not share. Instead, you lightly pushed his torso, making him lower you to the ground grudgingly. His brows were once again furrowed.

“I can’t go with you Sylus. At least, not for forever”

“You can. We can stay together for the rest of our lives and no one would have any objections. I took care of everything.” He reached to grab your forearm and stroked it softly with his thumb. He was so sure of everything he was saying that you could feel how much he let himself get lost in his fantasy. It did make you feel wanted, loved even. But no matter how happy you were that he was real, and apparently shared your feelings, you couldn’t agree to his plan.

“No, Sylus. I need to stay here, I have built my whole life in this place.” You could feel how much your words shocked him. He was looking at you so puzzled as if he didn’t think that you declining his offer was even an option. “I can’t leave everything that I managed to achieve, I really am content with my life, despite how complicated it can be.” You said truthfully. A part of you wanted to go with him, to feel safe and cherished for, for the rest of your life but you knew that was not realistic. You wanted to achieve more, you wanted to have your own life and your own space. You needed to be independent, to feel that you were perfectly capable of caring for yourself and your own needs.

“I do not understand. Don’t you want to be with me?” It pained you how quickly he jumped to that conclusion. And you hated the look on his face - it made you feel like you were betraying him.

”I do want to! Oh my god— I really, really do want to Sylus. I don’t think that I can live without spending time with you anymore.” You smiled at him, and took hold of his huge, rugged hand. “But I can’t live with you in the N109 Zone. I can’t leave my whole life behind.” And the fact that he wanted to make you do that somewhat scared you. Made you feel distressed.

“I see.” He sounded deep in thought. Then, he broke the eye contact for a second, looked at his hand in your hold and before you could even react, he grabbed your body gently with his Evol and picked you up. Your whole body was above ground and although you felt secured, you looked at him with surprise.

“What are you doing?” You wanted to get free from the hold of the mist, but it was impossible with how tight it was. “Sylus, you have to let me go.” You tried not to panic, you knew that you weren’t in danger. But he looked relentless, unforgiving as if his mind was already set in stone.

“No. I can’t. Not now when I finally got to have you.” He looked up at you, with his eyebrows still furrowed, and you could hear a hint of a growl in his voice. “If you do not wish to go with me, I guess I would have to take you by force.”

It was then that you felt a sense of panic. You knew him, and you knew that if he wants something, he always gets it. It just did not cross your mind that he would ever go against your own wishes.

“No. No, no, no, Sylus, please calm down.” He narrowed his eyes and stood motionless before you, his face devoid of almost any emotion. Almost, if not for the desperation shining through his watchful eyes. “You cannot take me away. At least not for now. But I will do anything you ask me to! You can also stay here for some time, and visit me whenever you want to, I swear, I would be so happy to have you.” You just needed him to listen. You knew that you could change his mind, he always listened to what you had to say, he just needed a little bit of persuasion. Maybe he didn’t even think about alternative options?

“And I would make you happy in the N109 Zone with me.” You laughed with disbelief. He was completely missing your point. You decided to once again yank your hands from the grasp of his mist, and then hissed with pain when it did not loosen up its hold. “Your struggle is futile, please stop, I do not wish for you to get hurt.” He was annoyed with you and your disobedience. He did not think that you would have any objections, he started loosing his cool.

“You would never let me get hurt.” You answered, wanting to assure yourself of it as well. You didn’t like how commanding he sounded.

“Yes.” There was no doubt in his voice. “Yes, you know I would stop at nothing to protect you.” His gaze never wavered from yours. He truly thought that what he was doing was for the best. And you just had to let him know how wrong his approach was.

“Yes! Yes I do know that! Because I know you, Sy.” You started to sound as if you were pleading. Deep down it scared you, send uncomfortable shivers down your spine. “I know you, and I know that you also know me.”

He placed his hand on his heart.

“And I adore every single piece of information. And I still wish to know you much, much better.” You tensed when you noticed that his right eye was starting to glow. You did not know if that was intentional, or just a trick of the light.

“Then you MUST know how much this life means to me. How much I like my stupid job, and how much I love the people that are here for me. My friends, my family.” You noticed that your reasoning started to get to him when he clenched his fists and avoided your eyes for a second. “And you have to know how much it would hurt me if you were to take me away from them.” He appeared taken aback. It seemed that his longing for you clouded his judgement, and now he started to notice the faults in his plan.

“But I cannot stand to be apart from you anymore, sweetie.” In normal circumstances that would be so touching to you. But nothing about this situation was normal, and you guessed you just had to show him how normal looked like.

“You won’t be. You can visit me anytime you want. Stay for how long you want.” You wanted that too. So bad.

“But that is not ENOUGH.” It was the first time you heard his raised voice and you started to tremble. His outburst must’ve thrown him off guard too, because he wavered and the grip he had on you loosed. You acted instinctively. You freed yourself from the mist and started to run towards your door. And although he was stunned by your reaction, he quickly teleported so that you ran straight into his chest. His hands grabbed yours in order to protect you from falling due to the impact.

He gently caressed your now slightly red forehead and sighed loudly. You could hear that he was hurt. You cried out from frustration.

“If you really thought that you could run away from me then you must be a total fool.” He tucked your hair behind your ear and lifted your chin up with his finger. “Usually I like playing cat and mouse with you, but I do not like the fact that you appear genuinely scared of me right now.” He hugged your waist and brought you closer to him, lowering his head at the same time. “And that you tried to run away from me when I only want to offer you my protection.”

“It doesn’t sound like protection, it sounds like imprisonment.” You used strong words, but you sounded so small. You did not know what to do with him, you were so scared. ”I’m just scared. I tried to run away because you scared me, Sylus.” You sounded desperate for him to understand you. To look past his own clouded vision.

“You do not have to fear me. I just want what is best for you. For us.” His grip on your waist tightened, and he also proceeded to grab your wrist.

“No. You only want what is best for you. You are not listening to me. I do care about you Sylus, but I cannot leave this place.” You tried to stand your ground but you two never argued before. It was an unfamiliar ground to you, especially when it was the first time that you had a conversation in person. Everything felt more intense and dangerous when you remembered the extreme measures he was always willing to take to achieve his goals.

“You can. And I will make you leave.” He almost growled and a cloud of black and red mist surrounded both of you, and that was enough to bring tears into your eyes.

”Sylus, no, please, I don’t want to. Please, just listen to me, please.” And it was at that moment he started to came into his senses. Your quiet voice and your eyes full of tears made his breathing stop. It was the first time he was seeing you react like this. He hated how broken you sounded. How small. “I’m so scared, Sy, please stop scaring me.” Your voice sounded choked and you could feel that the tears started streaming down your face. Every single one physically hurt him. It was your first meeting and he already made you so miserable. He wanted to scream. “Please.” You tried once again and it shocked you that it finally worked on him.

He tensed and released you from his grip. The mist also dissipated as he took a step back from you. You could hear him breathing deeply.

“I cannot do this." He sounded panicked. “I did not want to scare you, and I cannot listen to your little broken pleas. They break my heart.” He hidden his face in his hands and curled in himself. He felt as if someone pierced his heart with a knife and twisted it. He could not bring himself to look at your beautiful heartbroken face again. “They really do. Please, just stop crying. You won.”

You sniffed softly and touched your wet cheeks. You tried to calm yourself down, he finally listened to you.

“It does not feel so good this time for some reason.” You answered, referring to your Kitty Card battles. You wanted to relieve the tension somehow. You knew that he didn’t want to hurt you, you understand that he lives in a different reality where danger awaits everywhere. You could understand why he wanted to have you beside him at all times. But it scared you how insistent he was, how brutal and final. “Do you really understand why I got so scared?”

He nodded helplessly. “I won’t steal you away. Not when I know how much you despise the idea of spending the rest of your time with me.” You noticed how hard he was pressing his hands to his face and you grabbed them in your own. He let you uncover his eyes and you saw how much it hurt him to let you go.

“Oh, Sy.” You whispered and hugged his hands to your chest. “You know that’s not the reason.”

“Stop calling me that. It drives me crazy.” He breathed and met your eyes. “You drive me crazy. What am I going to do with you? How can I make sure you are safe now?” You took his hands and made him follow you into your bedroom. You sat on your bed and urged him to do the same. This way you could finally talk with him more comfortably.

“Sylus, we have to talk about it.” You squeezed his hands and he looked at yours and took notice of how much smaller they were in comparison to his. So fragile, so breakable. He couldn’t stand it. His whole body longed to protect you. “I do not despise the idea of spending my time with you. I just can’t randomly leave everything I know and love. And this world is different from the one you know, we have our dangers but no one wants my head.” You explained to him slowly. “There are no Wanderers. No protocores.” He looked conflicted.

“I already know that sweetheart. I do. But when you disappeared for such a long time I couldn’t help but think that something bad happened to you” he gritted through his teeth. “I nearly lost my mind looking for you everywhere. It was terrifying, that thought in my mind and the idea that I would never have another chance to speak with you. To see you.” He touched your forearms and brought you a little closer to him. “And when Mephisto found you safe and sound I thought that I never want to feel that fear, that helplessness again. And the only way to do that is to keep you beside me at all times. To guard you with my own body and soul.” He took your hand and rested it on his chest. You could feel the fast and steady rhythm of his heart. You could feel his desperation, his complete devotion. And it almost made you tear up.

“I-I’m so sorry that I made you worry this much.” He studied your face with intention and you shake your head. “But I didn’t even know that you were real. I really thought it was just a game that made me feel less alone and now…” You swallowed audibly. “Now I know that everything I built with you during our time together was very much real and I’m still having trouble to wrap my head around it to be honest.” You smiled at him softly and he nodded with understanding.

“And then you came in and wanted to kidnap me to a world much more dangerous than mine where I do not have my close ones and—“

“I did NOT mean for that to be a kidnapping I though that you shared my sentiment, and also wanted to spend some time—“

“SOME time?? Sylus you wanted me to switch literal worlds and live with you in your freaking villa in the middle of nowhere—”

”I live in an apartment that has a fantastic location, mind you, and you would feel so comfortable in—“

”Apartament??? You cannot possibly be a freaking leader of Onychinus and live in an apartment complex, are you being serious with me right now??”

“Have you ever heard of a saying that the darkest place is under the candlestick, kitten? Besides there is no one in the whole N109 Zone that would pose an actual threat to me—” He cut off when he met your eyes full of laughter, and then he heard that beautiful sound. You burst into giggles right in front of him and you touched him by the bicep and brought his forehead to yours. He couldn’t help but chuckle too, understanding the absurdity of the situation. Feeling your forehead against his, hearing your adorable chuckles and inhaling your sweet scent made him feel so at peace that he closed his eyes to embrace the moment completely. He couldn’t believe that he almost ruined your relationship by being so selfish.

“I missed this. This back and forth with you” You said and he chucked deeply. “I really am happy to see you, Sy. And I swear that we will be able to talk and spent time with each other more often now. And actually see each other in person.” He nuzzled into your face more and you caught his smirk by the corner of your eye. “We can stay in touch at all times, so that you won’t have to worry about my safety so much.”

“So bossy, kitten.” He answered, but the small smile did not leave his face. He couldn’t make it go away even if he tried. “Forgive me for scaring you earlier. I was not thinking straight. I was just so elated to finally have you in my arms that I let my selfishness get the best of me, and for that I’m sorry. I did not want to ruin our first meeting, sweetie.” You hugged him by bringing your arms around his chest and he closed his eyes drinking in the proximity. You were too small, too adorable, too attractive for him to take it. Too honest. Too lovable. Made just for him to adore. To protect.

“You did not ruin anything.” You said into his shirt, hugging him tighter. “I understand you, Sylus. And I like you a little selfish if it means that’s what brought you to me” He smiled into your hair and reluctantly let go of your fragile frame. He touched your chin and delicately lifted your face up to face him. His eyes were once again drinking you in, committing every single one of your features to his memory. He sighed contentedly.

“Selfishness was not the reason of my visit.” You could see how his eyes softened and you felt your chest squeeze. You brushed his cheek, loving the way how he seemed to relish in your touch. His eyes wandered to your lips: pink, plump and so inviting. “Adoration was. The complete love and devotion that I have felt for you for quite some time now.” You gasped quietly and opened your lips slightly, which didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Sy—”

“And I guess a little emotional push was what made me finally find my way to you, my beloved.” He half-whispered, leaned in, and pressed his lips to yours, locking you in a sweet, passionate kiss that went on and on, seeming to deepen with every minute you spent in his embrace.

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kissforyouu · 1 month ago

Text

i love you — a compilation !

warnings : suggestive content + explicit language + mention of substances

authors note : i had so much fun writing the Roblox part lmfao (from personal experience unfortunately😅😅) I hope y’all enjoy the rest of the fic :)) HAPPY V DAY MY LOVES!!!! ❤️❤️

｡𖦹°‧⭑.ᐟ giving him a note saying “don’t smile if you want toe curling sucky sucky tonight”

You excitedly giggle over the folded piece of paper held in between your fingers, thinking to yourself of what your boyfriends reaction would be.

You saw people on TikTok do this trend, and here you thought, yeah why not try this on Jungkook. You were gonna give him sucky sucky anyways^^

“Get back in bed…”, Jungkook groans from his room, patting your side of his bed. Your back is turned to him and bent over as you write the little text on the paper. “Nevermind, stay there bent over and you’re getting instant backshots, okay?” He laughs.

You snort, turning around now. You don’t say anything, stay fully silent, but walk towards him.

“Mmf, finally.” Your boyfriend sighs in pleasure from just having you close to him. He blinks rapidly, breathing heavily. You’d be lying if you said he wasn’t geeking a little right now, having already smoked some weed earlier. So he was a little a high, perfect setting for the little bomb you’re gonna drop on him.

You don’t speak, but hand over the neatly folded piece of paper to him. Jungkook looks at you confused, eyebrow raising a little. He adjusts himself on the bed, sitting up to read it. You try holding in your laugh.

Jungkook, high, tries to read the text on the paper. He giggles, reading out loud, “If…you want…toe curling?” He looks at you with a smirk “—sucky sucky? …tonight, don’t…smile…”

He smiles, what I had written not registering in his head yet. He takes a few seconds to process it, and suddenly, his big giddy smile drops. Jungkook’s entire body turns stiff and he straightens himself. He clearly his throat, eyes landing somewhere else in the room.

He sucks in his cheeks, attempting to make a serious face.

“My love, you look like handsome squidward when you do that”, you giggle, holding his face by both of your hands.

Jungkook cracks out a laugh, immediately breaking his composure. It wasn’t even that funny, but he’d always find everything funny when he’s high. He giggles his way through, crumbling the piece of paper in his hand.

“Be for real, that was not funny”, you laugh at the geeked out man in front of you. “You lost the game though. You’re laughing.”

Suddenly, Jungkook stiffens his posture and clears his voice. He’s back to acting serious again, which made you slap his face jokingly.

“You’ve lost already!” But he shakes his head in deny. “Nuh uh.”

“Yuh uh.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Yuh uh.”

“Nuh U”— you shut him up with a kiss.

“I’ll still give you sucky sucky because you’re my good boy, okay?” You palm his hard on through his boxers.

“Hey, I’m the dominant here!”

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ JK getting mad at his girlfriend whenever she buys things with her own money.

“I missed your cute ass room.” He said with a beaming smile on his face.

“You were here last week, idiot.” You slap the back of his head.

“Yeah yeah, whatever.”

“I miss you even when you’re with me, I miss you always, you know that.”

“Corny.” You laugh at him.

“I know you like that shit.” Jungkook pokes your waist, then a small kiss on your shoulder.

He examines your room as if he’s never been there. But then, pauses.

“Where’d you get this from?,” he walks over to your newly bought expensive white fur caught hanging in your closet.

Jungkook had almost each and every single clothing piece of yours memorised. Mainly because he’s bought almost all of them for you. But this one, certainly, he did not buy.

“Uhh, the store…” you bite your lip.

“What store?”

“Heh.” You knew where he was as going with this.

“Heh? Yeah? What store?” He questions again.

“‘Kay, I’m sorry.” You frown.

“I hate when you don’t use my card. I’ve given you my BLACK card, Y/n. You really can buy anything, big or small. Don’t piss me off.” His eyebrows are furrowed as he leans against your wall, staring at you with a big mean glare. You felt like a child being scolded for taking candy.

“I’ve told you about this already—“

“And I’ve told you about this already too.” He cuts you off. “My card is yours, your card is yours, okay?” He examines my face for expressions of defeat, acceptance. But finds none.

“I don’t want to spend your family’s hard earned money. And yours. It just doesn’t feel right. Plus, what am I going to spend my own money on?” Jungkook rolls his eyes at your question, probably finding it utterly stupid and insane. Who wouldn’t accept free money? You, you wouldn’t.

“Don’t give a fuck. Use my card from now on or I’ll get your card disabled.” He shrugs it off and walks out of your room.

What! WHAT!

“What do you mean you’ll disable my card?!”, you shout, “Jungkook!! Stop!! What the fuck!!” You scream.

꩜ .ᐟ ⋆˚࿔ Secretly recording Jungkook who loves to get baby talked

You scroll on your phone absentmindly (lies), while secretly keeping an eye on your boyfriend. His head rests between your thighs, laying there comfortably as he enjoyed whatever anime on the tv.

You think of how you’re going to secretly set up your phone and record him. Hm. Biting your lip, concentrated, you hide the phone behind your pillow and made sure that the camera would be peaking out.

Okay, perfect.

You start by slowly caressing his hair, running your fingers down his locks and massaging his scalp. You made sure to scratch his scalp with your new set of nails, which he paid for. You know he likes that. Like, a lot.

Jungkook moans, his head’s weight fully dropped down to your thigh. You hum back, hands now moving from his scalp to his face. You trace his cheekbones, his nose, his eyebrows, his lips—you even teasingly put a finger in.

Sometimes, you remember he’s your boyfriend and that you could touch him however you wanted and that makes you the happiest girl in the world.

You go on to trace his eyes, his eyelashes then ears. Jungkook hums in relaxation, giving his full body control to you. He looooves when you did this. You go on to pull on his cheeks a couple times, and then ;

“Come up.” You tap his head with the tip of your nail.

Jungkook doesn’t say anything back, but raises himself up from the position below and turns around to lay in between your arms.

Let the fun begin, heh.

“I love you.” You tell him, with a wet kiss on his cheek.

He flashes his boyish smile at you, eyes fully locked on yours as he traced your lips, “I love you more, baby.”

“But you’re my baby.” You soften your voice a little bit, squeezing his nose teasingly. “No, you are.” He argues back. “No, wrong, you’re my baby.” Jungkook cracks a smile again, a small giggle escaping his lips, “Fine. I am.” He finally surrenders.

You squeal, beginning to place kisses all over his sweet face. Lips, nose, cheeks—everywhere. You shut his eyes, just so you could kiss his eyelids.

“I love you so much, my little baby.”

Jungkook groans into your neck, overwhelmed with all the affection as his cheeks took a sudden colour to red.

“Awh, you’re blushing! Who’s making you blush, hm?” You squeeze his cheeks really hard. I know that hurts.

“Ywu.” He manages to say one word.

“What’s my name?”

“Y/n—mmph”

“No. That’s not my name.”

“Mwomwy.”

Wait, LMAO— you weren’t expecting him to call you that right away. You thought it would have to take a lot of convincing, I guess not.

You kiss his glossy lips as a reward, finally letting go of his cheeks. You suffocate the man from hugging him really really tight, chest pressed right to his face. I don’t think he’s having a bad time though. His face was right on your boobs, fully dived in.

“Baby, you’re making me feel less of a man”, he says on a serious note, hands travelling down to rest on top of your booty shorts.

“It’s okay, nobody’s gonna know anyway. They don’t have to know that you’re my babyboy.”

“Stop.” He groans, arms how fully around your waist as he avoids eye contact. He’s shy.

“My baby star candy.” You kiss his hair again. “Look up to me, baby.” You tap his face, raising his chin up. Jungkook hums, making eye contact with you now.

“Who’s mommy’s good boy?”

You are trying so hard not to laugh. It’s so hard. Fuck. You stiffen your face, take in a big gulp and stay still. Jungkook looks at you weird, almost like he’s going to call you weird, but then, he just lets out a big massive gigantic groan and says—

“Uugghhh, me.”

You could see the visible disgust in his face, but also you could tell that he kind of liked it. LMAO. You can’t hold it in anymore, so you burst out laughing. You laugh so much you have to hold your stomach in.

“Yeah, you like that?”

“Maybe—HEY WHAT THE FUCK!”

The idiot finally spots the camera hiding behind the pillow, screaming as he jumps off your body. You can’t stop laughing. You’re still laughing. Holy shit. You hold your stomach tighter, trying to breath.

“Haa—haaa, fuck, I can’t breath, AHAHAHAHA”

Jungkook screams too, grabbing the phone. He clears his voice before speaking.

“What the actual fuck, Y/n? What the fuck?” He stops the recording and throws the phone away. “Not funny.”

You’re still laughing, eyes closed tight with a big smile on your face. Jungkook thinks you look the prettiest like this.

“Never do that ever again. You are also not posting that anywhere.” He says with a stern voice.

“Okay, but you were into it, right?” You wiggle your eyebrows.

“…maybe.”

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 “you’re spinning me around, my feet are off the ground!^^”

You shiver because of the extreme weather (it’s just snowing), hands tightly wrapped around yourself as you squeeze yourself into your boyfriend’s body.

“It’s cold.” You’re shivering.

You tug onto your skirt—yes, skirt in the damn cold—and pull it down to cover your thighs as if it’s going to do anything.

“No shit”, your boyfriend laughs, warm hands rubbing your waist under your shirt. But his hands leave you for a brief moment and sneaks under your skirt and hooks his fingers onto your underwear right on your asscheeks and pulls the stretchy material down. You shriek, hitting his stomach as a reaction.

“This barely covers your ass. Why are you wearing a shortass-barely-a-skirt-skirt in winter? You dumbfuck.” He flicks your forehead.

“It’s for the fashion, Jungkook. At least I look good.” You huff.

“Yeah, sure, you look good but you’re freezing your ass off in this snow. I even feel bad to throw snowballs at you because you’re shivering already.” He squeezes the back of your thighs that were cold as fuck, like meat put in the freezer.

“Let’s do the thing now! The video!” You remind Jungkook, hitting on his chest as a signal.

He nods his head with a groan, placing your phone on the car so that it stands up right.

“What do I do again?” He looks at you with a slightly nervous lip bite.

“Follow the lyrics and then pick me up when it says my feet are off the ground, okay?”

“Yes ma’am.”

You giggle and press the little red button—record—so that the video would start playing.

“ you’re spinning me around ”

Jungkook giggles, pulling you to him by your waist so that your body would smash against his. He grabs your other hand, intertwining it with his and his other hand on your hip, yours on his shoulder, he dances with you, spinning you around along with him.

“ my feet are off the ground ”

With a laugh, his face fully scrunched up, the beautiful man whom you’re in love with hooks his strong arms under your thighs and lifts you up, completely effortlessly. You squeak, feet wiggling and hanging while your upper body clinged to his. You smile at the camera, face heating up fully.

“ I don’t know where I stand

do you have to hold my hand ? ”

He puts you down quickly, hand patting the top of your ass as a way of saying “good job”. You stand next to him with a big smile as the lyric plays. Then he holds your hand really tightly, swinging it back and forth to great lengths.

“ you mystify me

you mystify me

you mystify me ”

As the lyric switches, he pulls you in again and kisses you, hard. Lips smacking against eachother, he pulls you into a deep kiss full of love and passion. At the second mystify me, Jungkook bends you back by your back, deepening the kiss. He put his hand on his cheek, thumb on your jaw as he lifts his face up to kiss you even deeper. By the last mystify me, Jungkook pulls back, a string of saliva connecting your lips together still.

Your cheeks were flushed red, quite literally, and so were his. His lips were glossy and his eyes twinkled like stars. There was a big cheesy smile on your face, you felt like a child who’s just had her first kiss ever. You love him so much.

You shyly take steps forward to stop recording the video on his phone. Jungkook looks at you, proud, because he’s just made his girl shy again.

“Shy? What? Like you weren’t sucking my balls off last night?”

Why does he have to ruin everything.

❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ calling him “daddy” as a prank (right in front of your dad)

It took a while for Jungkook to earn your father’s trust. He had to work for it. Bring you home on time, show up and talk to him, engage with the rest of your family—he had to learn to express his love for you really loud in front of your family. Once he fully gained your father’s trust, he was automatically invited to every event your family hosted.

And, that’s no different from right now. Your family was hosting a barbecue. A lot of your family was there, your cousins, uncles and aunts, almost everyone. It was always fun to spend moments together as family. Jungkook was practically family at this point :).

; Which was perfect! For your prank! Of course!

As of now, you were waiting for your boyfriend and dad to end up in the same place.

You were in your kitchen, snacking on some strawberries while being a little bent over on the kitchen isle. Without getting noticed, your boyfriend slithers behind you and creeps his dirty hands up your dress to squeeze your ass cheeks hard. What the fuck! You scream!

“Ack! Jungkook, you scared me!” You whine.

He snickers, places kissing on your shoulder blade while his hands made their way around your waist. “Mmhhhm,” he inhales in the scent of your perfume, letting his full body weight fall onto yours. You ruffle his hair and feed him a strawberry. Jungkook watches the way the juice of the fruit falls onto your neck, so he just lols his tongue out to lick it off, with a smirk of course.

“No, they’ll see.” You warn him.

“Mhm, no.” He murmurs into your neck. His voice was almost inaudible, just audible enough for you to hear it. It was so small and breathy, so needy.

Jungkook breaths into your neck, still kissing you there, leaving light wet pecks on your flesh. “You’re going to get us caught, mh, Jungkook.”

He shakes away your thoughts, fingertips moving lower and lifting up your dress. He taps your clothed clit with the back of his fingers, sending a shiver down your spine.

“No, not in public,” you place your hand on top of his, but don’t move it, and let him do whatever. Jungkook chuckles at your submission, which he expected, of course. But just as he was about to put his hand inside, your little sister screams as she runs into the kitchen.

You both flinch, terrified, screaming! Jungkook withdraws his hand back, covering his actions by just coughing really loud as if he was trying to scratch his throat.

“I want strawberries!” She shouts.

“Yeah, baby? Okay, wait.” You begin cutting up some strawberries for her. In the meantime, your father enters the room, suspiciously eyeing you and Jungkook.

“Daddy, sissy is cutting me strawberries.”

Your dad nods in approval, lifting up your sister and placing her on the kitchen isle.

Now, you never used the nickname “daddy” as much in the bedroom. But whenever you did, Jungkook would be obsessed. He’d beg you to call him that again frequently, but you never did, often finding it ‘cringe’ and ‘weird’. Therefore, you weren’t quite sure whether he would follow the command or not. But heh, worth the try.

“Daddy, can you grab me a bowl?”

In instinct, your father turns around to grab a bowl from the cupboards. But another thing catches his attention, it’s how Jungkook’s reaching for the exact same bowl he was reaching for. They both pause in the moment, looking at eachother’s faces with absolute horror plastered across theirs.

“What the fuck—” your dad exclaims before your sister cuts him off, “—daddy, bad word!”

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He apologises to your sister, swatting Jungkook’s hand away as he grabs the bowl and places it in front of you.

He’s glaring at the two of you as of now. Jungkook is left flustered, and startled, and sort of angry in a way because he knew you planned this. He darts his eyes at you very sharply.

You give him a small smile. Jungkook tries to escape the situation by walking away, but—

“Jungkook, stay.”

Oh fuck.

Your dad was always a strict man. He wasn’t a crazy type strict, but still very much protective over his daughters.

Maybe this wasn’t the best idea, you just knew you were going to receive a good scolding from Jungkook later.

Your sister finally walks away, munching on her sweet strawberries. Your father, however, taps his fingers on the table, looking between both of you. You’re both silent, like 2 children having caught doing something really sneaky.

“I’m going to pretend like I didn’t hear and witness that.” He darts his eyes at Jungkook.

“Secondly, I hope you are using protection.”

Then he just leaves.

Fuck, you are so embarrassed. You look at Jungkook with a small smile, while he gives you a death glare.

The thing is, dad, we are not using protection either. #rawnextquestion.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 ༘⋆ ִ ₊⊹ dream blunt rotation

You sigh, watching your boyfriend roll another blunt. You observe each and every one of his moments carefully. The way he rolls his filter paper, the way he licks the end of the paper to seal it all together. He did it so precisely. He always did. Your boyfriend was, like, the master blunt roller. You in the other hand could never master it. He always rolled your blunts for you.

Jungkook taps the almost completely rolled blunt on the table about 10 times so that all the weed would be inside the rolled paper, then fills it to the top with a bit more weed.

“Hm.” He hands the blunt over to you, “you want me to roll more, baby?”

You shake your head, “this is enough.”

You light up the blunt with—heh, your super cute hello kitty lighter which, by the way, Jungkook decorated for you. Yeah, he bought all the little charms and decorated the lighter for you. You’re in love with this man.

You light the end of the blunt, and put the other side in your mouth to take a small inhale. You exhale the air out, snuggling into your boyfriend’s couch. You were staying over at his place, no way in hell would you smoke at yours. Only in your room, that too if your parents weren’t home. Jungkook’s parents didn’t care. They knew he did all sorts of things. They didn’t really care as long as he did his academics well, which he did.

Jungkook takes an inhale out of his joint, head thrown back as he sighs, eyes closed. Suddenly, he starts giggling.

“What?” Your voice comes out as a whisper.

“I love you so much. I get emotional when I’m smoking, I don’t fucking know why, but I love you, you know that.” His cheeks take a shade of light pink.

You’re cheeeeeeezzzziiinnnnggggg. There’s a small giggle out of you, and you scoot closer to kiss his cheek and drag a smoke out of your joint as well.

“I love you more, you know that too. And you’re forever going to be my blunt roller slash plug.” You laugh.

“Jesus, I should start making you pay.”

“That’s so odd for you to say.”

Jungkook laughs, agreeing.

“Jungkook?”

He hums, taking an inhale.

“What’s your dream blunt rotation?” You ask, taking another hint.

“Dream what?” Jungkook laughs, finding the question absolutely ridiculous.

“Like, if you could share your shit with anyone, who? Like, a group of people, mhm?”

He laughs again and grabs your hand that was placed on your thigh and kisses the back of it, “you. Why would I wanna be smoking with anyone else besides you?”

“You smoke with your friends.”

“Well, yeah”—he groans, “but like, you’re my dream, you know? You’re my…dream blunt rotation? Whatever you call it.” He declares his love for you again in rather a more romantic way.

“I’m your dream?,” you giggle, lashes batting. Now it’s your turn to kiss the back of his hand. You stare at your boyfriends big doe eyes as he hummed in response. You take another hit of the joint, keeping the smoke still in your mouth, and pull him into your body. You kiss Jungkook with passion, your saliva mingling together as the smoke transfers down to his mouth. Your boyfriend groans and breaks the kiss to inhale and exhale the smoke.

Both of you were starting to sweat despite the A/C, and the weed was starting to take a toll on you as well. You take another inhale, eyes batting to shut down. “Oh my god,” you moan, head falling against Jungkook’s shoulder.

“What’s your dream blunt rotation?” He asks back.

“Well,” you begin, “Robert Pattinson, Lee Jong-suk, Woo Do-Hwah—”

“Actually shut the fuck up.” Jungkook shuts you up with a harsh slap to your thigh, making you wince, followed by a giggle.

“‘Kay, sorry. They’re hot though.”

“What about me?” There’s a big fat pout on his face.

“You’re hotter, you’re my husband.” You give him a big fat smile, and a big fat wet kiss on his forehead.

“I think I’m hard.”

And you look down and see a big fat monster tent staring right back at you.

❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Roblox with your boyfriend / headcannons

Jungkook never played Roblox until you forced him to do so. He first laughed at you and called you childish for still playing Roblox, fast forward sometimes he begs you to play it with him.

You got into Roblox through your little sister Evie of course. She’d always ask you to play dress to impress with her, and who are you to say no? That’s when you felt like dragging Jungkook into this.

He would always supply you an endless amount of robux. You and Evie, of course. His account however would only have like 5 robux left, whilst yours was like 10k all the time. You had access to his Roblox account, so you’d randomly log into his account and change his avatar a bit here and there.

He also only had two friends on Roblox, that would be you and Evie. For some reason, he had a bunch of followers on Roblox. He always wondered why, since he never even played like that. You had about 200 friends on roblox though. And like a bunch of followers. LOL.

Moving onto the games you play, it ranges from cute girly games to horror games. Most of the time, it’s always dress to impress. Jungkook would always call it boring but also yell whenever he doesn’t place.

You’d play arsenal, mm2, doors, mocker, dead silence, hello kitty café, royale high—likewise.

Also, don’t tell anyone, but sometimes whenever you guys are hanging out, you’d ask him “hey, wanna have e sex?” and go on LifeTogether on Roblox and do it there for shits and giggles. You always found it funny, and he just did whatever would make his girlfriend happy. happy wife = happy life. Oh, and of course you have real sex after^^.

Everytime another headless gets deleted, Jungkook would just spend like 800 robux to buy you another. He’s so cute, you love him so much.

You and Jungkook would have cute matching Roblox fits. His would be all pink and cute, he didn’t care since it was Roblox. You guys would deffo get labelled as a “corny Roblox couple” LOL.

Jungkook’s favourite game though, as corny as it sounds, unfortunately, is dahood💔. You hate that game passionately from the bottom of your soul but he loves it. He logs in and starts fights with randos. Sometimes he would kill you and carry you around the place. He’s done some cute things though. Like once, he planted dahood flowers all over the place and wrote ‘I love you’ on the wall using dahood graffiti.

outfit inspo 4 u guys + dti sneak peak :

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . ^ྀ�� the topic of kids !

“Jungkook?” You ask your boyfriend, who just hums at you. He’s sleepy.

“You ever think of kids?” Your voice is sleepy as you sleep.

There’s a long pause before he speaks again, “with you? Yeah, all the time. Why do you ask?”

It feels nice. It feels really nice to know that he feels the same way about you. He also wants to have children with you. Not now, for sure, but one day.

“I fantasise about our future a lot. You’re not going to leave me, are you? I’ll make chop suey out of your dick and feed it to the sharks if you do.” You threaten him, followed by a yawn. Jungkook just laughs, the sound of his soft laugh echoing from one year to another. You love the sound of it. So, so, so incredibly much.

“You’d have to kill me to make me leave you, my beautiful baby Y/n. Even so, I’d come haunt you as a ghost. ‘M never leaving you alone.”

“You’re gonna make me cry.” You say as your fingers fondle with the gold chain around his neck. “How many kids do you want?”

“Hmm,” he thinks for a moment, “how many does mommy want? I’d like to have as many as you’d want to pop out” ; he ends his sentence with a laugh.

“Mommy wants at least 3.”

He nods, hand patting the crown of your head. “‘Kay, daddy agrees too.”

“You think…I’ll be a good mom?” Your words are a tad bit slurred as the drowsiness is getting to you really bad, but you still ask your question.

“Is that a question? You’re the most patient person I know. You’re the most genuine and kindest person I’ve ever met. Sometimes I don’t understand why you’re still with me because I can be such an asshole sometimes. You’re like, the angel that I was blessed with. You’re the light to my life, the sun to my moon, I don’t know brah”—he pauses and holds you tighter and murmurs, “you know how I feel about you,” into your neck.

You giggle, your grip tightening around your plushy as you blushed. “What are you? A poet?”

“For you, yeah.”

“You’re making me horny. Let’s make a football team.”

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