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amoristt · 1 month ago

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the night falls like heaven || 2

part one (x)

「 ✦nam-gyu/reader ✦ 」 tags: sfw // hurt/comfort, mild sexual themes, mild violence, not as angsty as the first one lol, namgyu is a fake idgafer,

a/n: im so happy to get this final out UGH i do have one more small piece related to this mini series ( wink wink iykwim) that ill get posted asap! i hope you guys enjoy hehehe word count: 7.5k | songs i listened to (x) (x) original request (x)

・❥・When you open your eyes on the dawn of the third day, the first thing you’re met with other than the ceiling is the hushed whispering of other players already awake. Chatter that grew by the minute, drowned out below you.

Sitting up was a hassle for sore, sore muscles and aching bones that had been shaken to the very marrows. You remembered praying, staring up into the white tiles above, for god to give you an easier day than the last.

You weren’t sure how much more of this you could take.

Nothing could have prepared you for the third game. Mingle was a monster bearing teeth and a gaping maw, biting and snarling and killing. Blind panic, grabbing hands and twisting fingers. Room after room watching the light in someone's eyes go out through the miniscule gap in the heavy doors.

Almost every second of the game was spent in apprehensive terror, watching the room go round and round until you were dizzy between the colors and blood. The way fear had stricken you made it hard to focus on anything except numbers and faces, split second decisions that showed only the truest of nature, tailing the few people you’d grown acquainted with into rooms bathed in muted greens and oranges.

Nam-gyu was nowhere to be seen- or perhaps you were just simply overlooking him, lost in the sea of moving bodies and swaying feet.

Groups of six became five, and then four. One after the other, names of those you’d never gotten the chance to learn became grave markers. Four, and then three.

Over the days, you’d grown quite close to a player who’d happened to choose the bed a couple feet from yours, the both of you chatting about the people scattered about the dormitories. He was a kind man with dark hair and even darker eyes that never seemed to feel untrustworthy. Normal enough, friendly enough. Quick to let you join his team during the six-legged race even though you’d found him with a sour expression and an ever more sour attitude.

So when the number of players per room dropped to two, you jumped to grab his hand and yank him into a room. The least you could do, you think. He had been so kind when you kept messing up your minigame, managed to gather your confidence into the final try, you owed it to him to get him through his game.

You threw a door open and let him jump inside. For just a second, all the chaotic cries were muffled through the thick walls.

But only for a second. Because something true and powerful ripped you back by your tracksuit, dragged you right out from that room and sent you skittering on the floor feet away. The wind knocked from your lungs, the back of your head bouncing off the floor with a crack. Fireworks exploded behind your eyes, obscuring the scene before you, but not so much to miss a man slipping into the room after forcibly taking your place.

When you finally bring yourself to your feet and try to pry the door back open, you see your friend held back by that damned player all the way in the corner.

“Run!” Your friend cries. No sound reaches you. “Run!”

The step back you took was shaky, your mind swimming, lost under the ocean. Heat flooded your skin, prickly and loud. Your heart was a thrashing beat, beat, beat, in your ears.

Outcries and players beating on doors in the corners of your eyes.

You were going to die.

The first thing you think of, standing there frozen in place, watching your friend try in vain to free himself from the other player’s (your murderer’s) grip, was what death would be like. Doors slam shut, rooms occupied with poor souls clutching at the window trying to pry the doors open.

The player holding your friend back gave you sorry, sorry eyes despite it all.

You hoped the afterlife would be kinder than this.

And then, with seconds to live, you think of Nam-gyu. The time spent with him argues with the pit of hours spent wasted. Years of wondering and then days of having. It was never good for you, not really, but you loved him in a way that made you weak in the knees. And you missed him so, so deeply that when you’d locked eyes with him on day one there was this little part of you that hoped he did, too.

Clearly, he did. And you fought against him like a bull, his hands tearing away on your horns, all anger and sneers. A piece of you rearing its head, an angry beast that would prickle at the very thought of his name. A suit of rage to hide away that broken hearted girl standing in the doorway, wishing he’d stop her.

All that. Just to let him back in.

If you had known this was the end, perhaps you would have let him prove himself.

You’re yanked to the side so intensely you almost drop to the ground like a stone through murky waters. Running, somehow, even though you couldn’t feel your legs. Everything is a blur of colors and flashing pinks, your brain’s gears have gone haywire and firing blanks in the disarray. When you’re getting your footing back, and your eyes have decided to process the sight before you, you’re drowned out in green covering every corner.

Metallic thudding and muffled screams. You’re spun around on your heels so quickly it almost made you tip over all over again.

“Why the fuck were you just standing there?!”

You hear his voice before you see his face.

When you do, and Nam-gyu’s blocking that abhorrent neon light beating over your skin, it feels like all the gears have stopped. Tunnel vision, all else echoing away in chambers far forgotten. His hands drag from your shoulders to your face, tries to gather the bits of you scattered outside the room.

“What’s going on with you, huh? Listen to me!”

He’s angry. Or, at least, he looks like it- sounds angry too. But the way his eyes are scanning you, searching you over in noticeable distress tells you otherwise. Fingers running through your hair, tips dancing through your locks until suddenly they nudge up against something so sharply sensitive that it makes you leap. He’s quick to stop you when you try to shove against his chest.

“Hold still,” Fingers still searching, the palms flat against the sore spot you’d cracked against the hard floor. “You hit your head.”

Not angry, after all. Even the animosity in his tone has melted into something quieter. He draws back and checks his hands for blood.

“I’m fine.” You have this idea to push Nam-gyu away from you. For some reason, you don’t. You lean into him. Maybe it’s because your head is still struggling to support your brain. Or, maybe, it’s because at that moment you were grappling with the reality that was him being one of your final thoughts. Again.

Flirting with death was becoming a trend with a common denominator.

You bury your face into his chest and let yourself feel protected for the first time in years. For a moment, Nam-gyu tenses. Unsure, disbelief.

“Thank you.” Your voice was a gentle hum that vibrates against his chest, and sticky tears are dampening your water lines, lost in his tracksuit. Wakes him up, muscle memory wraps his arms around your body. You can’t hide the way you tremble like a leaf.

And you can’t hide the way he soothes it all out, rests his chin against the top of your head and lets you use him to find yourself in one piece.

You thank him again, even when he says not to. You thank him, and thank him, and thank him until the door unlocks and you follow him out like a braindead zombie. Pools of blood, now more than ever, are splattered along the floor.

You see yourself among them.

Still a meandering zombie all the way back to the dormitories. The top bunks have all been taken down, marking the end of lives. There’s a pit in your stomach that only alleviates when you lock eyes with your friend- and this stupid grin explodes over your face when he realizes you lived. He’s across the room from you now, but he’s warm all the same.

It takes a long time to find a new bed to call your own, but when you do, you hope laying down will help you with the thoughts rattling around in your skull.

Hours later, you’re still drowning in thoughts.

I do know you. That's exactly why I won’t be on your side.

Your throat strickens. A million thoughts are bursting your brain at its very seams and spilling out from the cracks. Chatter is endless in the dormitory, but you loiter in uncanny silence.

You know that I can’t stay with you. Never again.

The extraordinary disdain so profound it had scared even you to hear it rolling off your tongue. Standing before you, ears flat and flickering tail tucked, an unending urge to control, Nam-gyu had been the very same man you’d deserted for all those years. But the core of you had been so blue it would frost to the very touch, sapphire walls of licking flame to keep anyone and anything out. Even as you found companionship in the presence of others, your mind called for him until you’d hushed it with an onslaught of terrible, terrible memories at his own hands.

But then you almost died, ripping the cord back on your third attempt at the spinner, watching it tumble fruitlessly as your heart thudded in your ears. Finally getting it, and still barely passing the finish line with your lives intact. It rocked you- changed you, but only in the ways you didn’t notice right away. Walking back into that dormitory, frightened as rabbits before great jaws of teeth, the first thing you fancied yourself to see was him.

You felt something real when you did- something forgotten and dusty creeping into the forefront of your mind.

And then he went and saved your life during Mingle.

Plucked you from the claws of death itself and dragged you into that washed out green-lit room, the colors hueing off your skin and glistening in his eyes when he grabbed your face to check on you. The distress of his expression, the red-hot regard for you to be in one piece, to be in his hold again after so long… It rewired something in your fuzzy brain. Clarity, or illusion, settled and fired echoing shots of previously snuffed out passion to life.

Reminded you why you fell in love with him, why you never wanted to be without him. More specifically, why being his girlfriend, his one and only, was so important.

You had known from the start that you were his. You knew it the first night he’d picked you up on his night off and drove you around the city, watching the lights sing in the hues of his eyes. You knew it when he crept into your apartment at a very whim after a long shift, particularly worn and falling into your bed with beautiful ease.

You knew it the first time he kissed you, eager and fervent. And you knew it the first time you felt him inside of you. Heavy, filling, the perfect piece to all that you needed.

At the end of the day, you knew it was always you and him- until that fact began to waver and fade, and you found that resolve cracking. Disappearing for weekends at a time, never returning a text or a call, until suddenly it was two in the morning and he was at your door, and you’d barely even get the chance to rub the sleep from your eyes before he was pushing you into the walls and stripping you down to your very bones. All teeth and grabbing hands and your voice chanting his name through the silence.

A flame roaring so deep and red hot it scorched at the touch.

It was such a small request, you felt- labels. Be mine, be mine, be mine so I may give myself entirely to you and trust the fall on the way down. You needed that reliability, you needed to know that he held you as you held him. And, lord, you had been so sure of yourself. Brought it up as you ran your fingers along his chest absently, exposed and naked and shimmering with the hazy afterglow of sex.

No had caught you off guard so severely you had to ask him to repeat himself. The second time you heard it, it hit you like a cold bucket of water splashing overhead. Drenched, chilly down to your very bones. Air ripped from your lungs, mouth dry when he proceeded to laugh at you.

“Be serious.” He’d chittered. “I’m too busy for all that.”

Voice wavering, tears already threatening to build in your eyes as you spoke, I am serious.

“Don’t be a bitch, okay?” Hands touching your naked sides, wrapping around you like slithering snakes threatening to drag your life from the confines of your skin. A touch that felt as slimy as his voice sounded. “We’re fine like this.”

“So what, you just want to fuck and call it a day, forever?”

Lips finding your neck.

“Come on. You know I like you.” Licks up your jugular, doesn't notice the way you aren’t shivering at the feeling, locked up.

“If you like me then be my boyfriend.” His ceiling was mundane, void of anything particularly eye-catching, but you couldn’t tear your gaze off.

“I’m busy.”

“…Not too busy for sex, though.”

He pulled back to look at you, this growing sneer on his lips. “What’s gotten into you, huh?”

“Come on, is it really so bad? Being my boyfriend?” You sweetened, tried to soften him. “I just wanna hear you say it, y’know?”

Nam-gyu had tensed at the word the first time, and he did just as well the second time around. Prickles at every word.

“We’re not fucking-” He gets up and you’re cold, and you’re heart broken and there’s rage simmering somewhere in your belly. “What we have is fine. Don’t complain about shit.”

“Seriously Nam-gyu? You show up and you fuck me and but that’s all you want out of life?” When he doesn’t answer, that simmering rage bubbles into more, swinging your legs from around his bed and bringing yourself to your unsteady feet. “Tch. Fine. Forget about it. ‘Too busy’. God’s sake- If you’re too fucking busy have you considered working a little less?”

Nam-gyu’s jaw tenses and he scoffs, climbs out of bed and passes you right by to throw himself limply onto the couch.

“Can you chill? How about you focus on you and I’ll focus on me, yeah?”

You took all of five minutes to throw your clothes on and find yourself running down the halls of his apartment. All you bore was your clothes, your phone, and your dignity. Rest be damned, scrambling to get to the privacy of your home with eyes so blurred with tears you almost didn’t make it.

Months and months to scrub him from your body, even longer for the weight of his presence to go unnoticed in your mind. Even longer to stop seeing him in your dreams, and feeling your heart flutter with every knock at the door.

You should hate him, still.

But oh god, you can’t.

And oh god, the way he looked at you in that room, all hands clutching and grabbing and touching you so gingerly you wonder if you’d died somehow, after all. In that moment you wondered how he could ever hurt you at all. Beautiful and warm.

Years to forget him.

Exactly 3 days for him to sink back in as if he’d never left.

Corners of your brain would always house him, the door was always propped open and all the windows unlocked. Nam-gyu would find himself right back where he had started within you, leaving dirty footprints through your hallways.

The differences in him were subtle creatures, if you’d blink you’d miss it at times, but he’s trying and that means he gives enough of a shit. He’s waiting for you to open your arms and welcome him back in so he could make a mess of you all over again- and though you may be a fool, you decide to throw the poor dog within him a particularly tasty bone.

You don’t sit next to him by any teams, but after grabbing your dinner from the guard you make a point to settle upon a set of steps within Nam-gyu’s general vicinity. It’s an invitation- one that reaches him in alluring calls the very moment he sees you lean back and catch his eyes. As always, he was eager to take that chance, hastily getting up from what little ‘friends’ he had and scurrying over to sit beside you.

At first you don’t offer any words. There’s a certain weight in the gapping pause, like he’s at the edge of his seat, leaning on every inhale and exhale of yours. Dark eyes and a pointed expression that can never quite seem to figure you out. He waits, and he waits for you to break the silence whilst spinning the rings on his fingers, his meal yet to be touched at his lap. Your tongue swipes out over your lips.

“Thank you.” Tentative, careful. But you break the stillness regardless like a stone through water.

“You already said that.”

“I know, but I need to say it again. You could have gotten yourself killed, you know.”

Poking through his rice with his chopsticks, all he offers is a dull shrug, like it doesn't matter. Your eyes narrow, and you mock him with a dramatic shrug of your own.

“That’s all? Really?” He won’t meet your face, chewing the edge of his lower lip. You scoff. “Does your life mean that little to you?”

“How can you ask that? It means a lot to me. I don’t wanna die.”

“You almost did.”

He finally finds your eyes, expression caught somewhere between the dance of upheaval and agitation. Perhaps he doesn’t even understand it himself- the way he’d thrown his life around so easily for you. You’re pushing him, so you reign back, let yourself soften just enough.

“You could have died, and you did it anyway?”

“Damn it,” He sets his food down and rubs his eyes, dragging at the skin. “Why’re you always asking so many questions?”

“Because you never tell me things on your own.” You pluck the fried egg from your box, chewing down the cold food. When you take a bite, Nam-gyu does too, whether he means to move in tandem with you intentionally or not.

“I tell you lots of things.”

“Sure, but nothing I ever really wanna know.”

“Alright.” He puts his food down again, swallows his mouthful of rice, restless. “Ask me shit, then.”

You know the smart thing would be to have a couple buffer questions, little things real easy for him to digest, but the words leave you before you get the chance to pull them back down to the pandora within your chest.

“Why did you turn me down?”

It should catch him off guard, but it doesn’t. His blinks down at you, jaw tensing, those eyes of his always so stormy and unsure. Once again, all he manages for you is a shrug. He’s hiding right before your very eyes, all hands reaching out whilst slapping yours away when you reach back. A scared, hurt, biting dog. The tendency to howl for your love was beastly and he never stopped bearing those teeth.

“Please,” A sweet touch to his arm, a downcast to your lovely eyes. “I have to know why you didn’t want me.”

“I did want you.” He says it so fast you have to take a second to process him. Your brows knit, the early stages of confusion and anger bubbling under your skin as you set your bento box down. Your temper was always the first to bloom.

“Clearly not, or you wouldn’t have let me leave.”

He swallows, tongue poking out to swipe over his lips. “I freaked out.”

“Really? Because I remember you just sitting there.”

“I know.” His fingers find his mouth, teeth catching on the hangnails he’d worked into the nail beds during bouts of anxiety. “I was freaking out. I didn’t want all that extra shit and then you left and I-...” He swallows again, mind searching for all the words. “I don’t know. I didn’t think you’d really go.”

You have to digest it all for another moment, a pregnant pause as you do. The look on his face that day, so mullish and nonchalant even though you knew with every fibre of his being that he was anything but never left you. Haunted you, drew you away from anyone that shared even an ounce of similarities. You saw his smirks, heard his laughter, saw the outlines of his posture in strangers and it always made you sick to your stomach.

There’s a thousand questions, now, but you hone in one in specific.

“Extra shit?”

“Extra shit. Like-... Girlfriend, boyfriend shit…”

“Nam-gyu, we did have girlfriend, boyfriend shit.”

“Yeah but then you wanted to go and make it some official thing. If we already had it, why bother? All labels do is cause problems. What we had… It was good. It was fine.”

Your skin is starting to heat up. There’s a fall to your tone when you slip your hand off his arm and murmur, “Fine, for you.”

His eyes follow your hand retracting as if you’d cut him, shoulders slumping. “...Why didn’t it work for you?”

“I really liked you. I needed all that extra ‘official’ shit, whether you think it’s stupid or not. It meant a lot to me. It meant that you were serious about me, that you wanted me more than the… Fun. we had.” The words leave you forlorn, alive but peaking at the brims with defeat. “I knew I was yours, but… I wanted-... Needed to know that you were mine, too.”

“I was yours!” Nam-gyu leans back hard, terse and pointed with this sullen desperation around him that cried hear me. “I was yours and I didn’t need some stupid name to prove it.”

It’s a tale as old as time, true as it can be when he’s bunching his sleeves up, gripping hard to the inner fabrics, growing frustrated and antsy under the glint of your spectacle. His skin twitches like it’s its own separate entity, like he has to squeeze and clutch and drag to get it to settle back over his muscles and nerves. You’re sure you’re under there right now, worming paths through his veins and into his brain like a sneaky little parasite he could never seem to shake.

All it takes is a gentle touch to his arm again. Reminds him that you’re right there, beside him.

And then he’s giving up. Losing his edge, losing his temper but crushing the rolling bites of anger into a simple longing itch of you. He’s trying to clamp his mouth shut but you’re dragging it all out of him anyways, cast by cast. It’s a gratifying satisfaction you never knew could scratch so good. You’d wanted it since the start- all these swirling emotions sputtering from his lips so you could lap up every sound.

Fingers fall from his tracksuit. You eye him, meet his dejection face to face.

“Why was being my boyfriend such a terrible thing to you?”

Nam-gyu’s expression falls miles below anything else you’ve seen thus far, somehow. Drawn and weathered, far away down into his lap and hiding himself within the darks of his eyes to escape your gaze.

“I didn’t want anything to change.” Strands of hair slip past his ear and hang around the frame of his face, further shielding him. “I didn’t think… I don’t know what I thought.”

“Didn’t think what?” It’s like pulling teeth, you find, extracting the bits of him he’d clocked years into burying. You coax him anyway, and he finds your light with compulsory desire.

“I thought I didn’t want it.”

“It, or me?”

“It. It really got under my skin. You, got under my skin.” When he looks at you, you can truly see the mask breaking away into shards. A person suit coming untwined as the real him bloomed. “Girlfriend had a lot of… weight to it. I didn’t want all of that, but you then left, and I don’t know.”

And thus, that nonchalant squarecrow he’d planted onto that couch all those years ago is gone in the blink of an eye. You remembered him ugly and defiant in the moment, but you had overlooked the smirk of anxiety. The way he watched every move you made, the way he rubbed red into the skin of his hands with his fingers itching to drive into something, anything to release the tension.

I thought I didn’t want it.

A weight settles in your chest as the being of him crawls further into your ribcage, carefully.

“...How do you feel, now?”

Eyes travel from where your touch meets his skin, up to your shoulders, and then to meet your line of sight. His lips twitch, parting, but he’s searching for the words. Searching for you, you realize, reaching and begging to be taken out from the cold.

“I thought you died earlier.” He blurts. It throws you off guard, but your perturbation is only as long as it takes for him to continue with the ghost of fright still saturating the memory. “After the six-legged race, I thought you died, and it felt like it was my fault.”

“Hold on, I chose to not join you.” Your brows knit, clutching the fabric of his tracksuit a little tighter. He just shakes his head.

“If you had died, I don’t know what I would have done. It was only for a few minutes, but fuck. I just kept thinking I shouldn’t have let you say no.”

A cross between amusement and empathy shapes your lips into an uptick, your palm dragging upwards to his bicep. “That’s the problem we keep having, Nam-gyu. When are you gonna’ realize you don’t ‘let me’ do anything?”

“Oh, I know it already. Trust me.” A sigh leaves him but it almost sounds like a scoff.

The recollection of your momentary loss eats at him. In all the years you’d been gone from his life, a ghost turned into forlorn fleeting blips of memories, you could still read him like your favorite book. Line for line, word for word. Every character and detail etched into your mind, a glorious museum packed to every corner with him, him, him.

There’s this part of you that’s coming to life again, rising from the ashes not so much like a roaring phoenix but this gentle stream of embers singing the tips of your soul. Like an old battery, a feeling that comes from deep, deep, within. The uncanny urge to sooth out all those tensions stoning over his muscles and push his hair from his face as he always does.

“I didn’t realize you had been that upset, earlier.”

Which is a lie. Truth be told, when you’d managed to find your feet back into that dormitory, the first thing you sought was him. And he was on you, quick, teary and red. In that moment, you could see the way he felt as though he could breathe again. You all the same- this all consuming relief washing over you like a wave from head to toe.

He was the first thing on your mind when you’d walked in, and he was the last thing on your mind when you fell asleep that night.

Nam-gyu’s breath stutters as he nods.

“I almost did.” You murmur, feeling the blitz of terror that’d driven into your heart during your round. “I kept fucking up the spinner, and my teammate lied about knowing how to play Ggongi. Because of us, we barely even made it with a second left. You wanna know something?” It takes a second for him to look you in the eyes, but he does, and you smile pathetically. “I remember thinking to myself, man, I should have gone with you. And then you went and saved my life earlier and I felt like such a…”

He blinks at you, and you can’t help but laugh.

“I felt like such a bitch.”

For a couple seconds, he doesn't react, but when he does, he leans back and clicks his tongue. His lips tuck upwards and he’s trying to not smile- your heart soars.

“You can say it this time,” You giggle, nudging him. “I won’t be mad.”

Another shake of his head, those black strands falling even further from his ear. “Yes you will.”

Tongue swiping out over your lips, you can feel the energy lifting back up, buzzing and trilling like a spring day melting away the laundering billows of snow. Something blooms there with beautiful petals under the sun.

“You haven't answered my question.” You chirp. He looks at you, and you’ve got him now, all his attention and all his warmth. Subconsciously, you lean towards him. And he does the same. “How do you feel now?”

There’s a heaviness that adopts the space between your bodies. Heartbeats and staggered breaths moving in tandem, a rhythm you knew all too well. All the time apart, bitter and spiteful and angry, just to realize that he’d never truly left the closets of your soul. You knew him like your own self, knew all his fine tunings and the jagged edges of his resentful anxieties.

Nam-gyu takes in the very essence of you with those all seeing eyes of his.

“I never stopped thinking about you.”

The world stops turning all at once when he speaks.

Oh god, how your heart bursts into flames, unaware of how badly you’d been wanting this. Like getting a taste of the finest wine, or a forbidden fruit, so sweet and perfect and dripping down your chin. A confession spills from you in the stream. Years of snuffing out that licking flame just for it to combust into a raging wildfire at his whim.

You can’t stop yourself.

“I haven't, either.”

A version of you from three years ago howls out in retribution.

But then it’s hushed with the doe of his expression, leaning in like every word out of your mouth is gospel. His own personal bible, his own personal heaven. When you tell him, his breath leaves him in a broad rush of air.

A voice echoes over the speakers, chopping chunks out of the palpable tension growing. Lights out in five minutes.

For a long moment, you both just watch each other. The raw brunt of emotions is palpable, thick over your mind and body like a sheet of yearning tension.

But Nam-gyu speaks first after he glances towards where your bed had been, gone as the number of players dwindled and the beds were rearranged to compensate. “Where are you sleeping tonight?”

“I found a different bed.” You don’t tell him that you purposely chose an empty bed closer to his, but when you point to it, you can see the pleased expression drawn out from the disappointment.

“If you get nervous, come to mine.” He says suddenly, and you blink at him.

“Nervous?”

“Just saying.” Fingers catching his sleeves, bunching the fabric up. “You can if you want.”

‘If you want’. He’s learning after all.

“I’ll keep that in mind. I’m gonna get to bed, okay? I’ll come talk to you in the morning.”

You say it so softly, like it could wound him. Perhaps it does regardless, however, because the look he gives you in return is especially pained. Hates that your getting up, hates that there’s going to be meters and meters of metal frame work and sleeping bodies filling the spaces that lead to you. He almost grabs you, fingers popping out from under his sleeves, but he reels himself back in and instead leans back against the wall of the step and watches you.

Leaning down, you kiss his cheek, and you pretend you don’t notice the way his breath lodges into his throat when you do.

It’s quiet that night. This weight has settled over like a blanket of smog threatening to snuff you out everytime your breath leaves your lungs. There’s this irritation stuck within you- a certain twist and churn within your guts that makes you shift positions ceaselessly. The present arguing with the past, years of growth and the endless tumble back down to where you’d begun. The mindless, dangerous joy of landing flat on your back under him all over again.

Laying on your side doesn’t work, your brain far too busy behind your eyes. You give laying on your back one more shot, eyes staring up at the bottom of the bunk above you, but it doesn’t help. Nam-gyu still floods your mind no matter what you do.

Fuck, you still see him. Those beautiful angles and the slopes of his cheekbones, the feeling of dragging your hands down his shoulders to his chest and marking every last inch.

He’s saying your name within the confines of your skull, the sound echoing through your dome.

You’re hearing him now, too? Great. As if it wasn't bad enough before. He’s taking over your mind, your body, and now you’re having to audibly hear him like a teasing ghost paying you visits of desire. You’re the same person you were three years ago, for god’s sake. After all you’d done to move on he’s still there under your skin, working his way through the ridges and bumps of your brain.

“Hey, are you even awake right now?”

Wait- that’s not in your head.

You launch up with a gasp sputtering in your throat, eaten by the sudden lurching fear of a dark figure leaning over your bed. The knee jerk reaction to scream fails you, as does your strength when the figure leans in close and you try to shove them away hopelessly.

“Stop, stop! I’m not gonna’ do anything.”

Oh, it is Nam-gyu. He’s just decided to come and sneak up beside your bed like a creep in the darkness and properly scare the living daylights out of you. The sudden plummet of your nerves makes you wheeze out a sigh of relief and you toss yourself flat onto your mattress. Your hands cover your face, dragging the skin down in irritation.

“I thought I was going to die.” You hissed.

“Come on. Seriously?” He sat at the edge of your bed, and you’re so fucking relieved it’s not some random player coming to sweeten the pot, that you let him without a word.

“I didn’t realize it was you.”

“Who else would it be? Thanos?”

“Yes, actually.” You smirk at him through your fingers. “That’d really bust your balls, wouldn’t it?”

“Don’t say that shit.” He grunts, huffing. “You being serious?”

He looks pathetic, even despite the way his brows collect in annoyance. You used to find that cute about him- all angry and ruffled on the outside but always this anxious, soft little thing on the inside. So pent up with nowhere to go, clinging to the few things that he gives a shit about but no means to show it.

You still do find it cute. At least a little bit, anyways. You must because you find your lips tugging upwards before you can stop them.

“No, obviously. Your friend is fucking weird.” Saying it like he isn’t weird, too, is a funny thing. But his weird is different in your eyes- better.

You start to wonder if maybe things were changing, again. Reverting and revisiting a side of yourself he’d forced you to abandon.

You also start to wonder if that's a good thing. It’s hard to tell with Nam-gyu. He has a way of making the things so terrible for you feel so, so good.

He’s just sitting there in silence, thinking harder than you’ve ever seen him think. The tenacity of him is something new- which is crazy, because you truly had thought you’d seen all the in’s and the out’s of him.

“Can’t sleep?” Your voice drags him out of his trance.

The floor lights illuminate a glow in his eyes when he turns to look at you again, those dark hues far away. When he doesn’t answer, and you fully take in the somberness of him, you have this urge from deep within your soul. An insatiable itch that you’d refused to admit to yourself you’d been longing for the last three years. You swallow hard, your mouth opens and closes, struggling to get the words out.

“...Do you want to lay with me?”

It’s like inviting the vampire into your home knowingly.

Nam-gyu doesn’t linger for even a second. Maybe he’s afraid you’ll change your mind if he doesn’t jump on the chance, or perhaps he’d been desperate to be at your side since you’d left him that day. You weren’t sure- not really, but he was throwing himself at your side in the blink of an eye.

Even worse, his arms are already snaking around your body, finding you against himself in the darkness. Entitled to your body, and taking your air with him. A part of you has this immediate suspension- or more like, an experienced worry that those long fingers of his are going to try and explore down your body until they find something all too warm and familiar, but just like the look on his face moments ago, somethings different about him. Something longing, feeling.

He drags your back against his chest and he cages you in his grasp and he buries his face into your hair, breathes you in so deeply you’d think he’s getting high off your scent. Squeezing you so tight like he can’t believe he’s really got you. He even brings the blanket over you and pats it over your shoulders before he nestles in against your body.

“Nam-gyu,” You whisper, and he hums in response. “What are you doing?”

As if you aren’t actively letting him, as if you aren’t feeling all your tensions melt away in his hold. A puzzle piece settled back into its place after so long it ached.

His response is quiet, broken up. Words you never thought you’d ever hear leave his lips.

“I missed you.”

Between his confession and his breath on your neck, you shiver. A full body wrack that makes you crack your eyes open in the darkness.

“Yeah?” Your voice is equally as wavering.

He just nods and clutches you tighter. He’s never been this sweet with you- not even when things were good. And then he goes and surprises you again for the second, or third, time since he’s slinked into your bed.

“When we leave here, give me another chance.”

The fence you’ve stuck atop of is mighty tall with a great leap on either side. One side him and all his backage, the other, lonely peace. To go through all that bullshit again might actually kill you. And fuck, you’ve done it, you’re out. You’re on the other side and untethered to him after so long, but he’s so warm next to you, and he’s saying the things you used to imagine in your weakest hours…

“You’re serious about this?” You ask, barely above a whisper.

He can’t say it, but he can nod against the cradle of your neck.

“...And you’ll be my boyfriend?” You’re chewing the inside of your cheek, putting heavy emphasis on the label, making sure it rings true through that thick skull of his.

Another nod. Your breath stutters in your fluttering chest. It’s slow, hesitating, but it’s there and you’re rolling over to face him through the dim lights. In this light, you can see certain parts of him that you’d seldom ever been able to touch. This softness, endearment that you caught fleeting glimpses of in his afterglows. Vulnerable.

Your fingers find the sides of his face and he reacts like they’ve got their own gravitational pull, putty in your hold. Your touch is like warmth in the cold, like shelter within the storm. Life over all else.

“So say it, then. Tell me you’re mine.”

He presses his lips into a tight line. “You already know I am.”

“Say it.” Dragging your thumb over his lower lip. “Say it so I can kiss you.”

You can see, you can feel the way light soars into those dark, dark eyes. His lips part.

“I’m yours.”

Nam-gyu’s lips against yours, fingertips ghosting the mound of your cheekbone.

It’s like coming home again.

Sweet and gentle and nothing like you’d ever had the fortune of sharing with him. Kisses with him were always so urgent and demanding, but this was void of anything other than the yearn of finding yourself again. It’s the most intimate moment you’ve ever had with him, you think, in the middle of a packed room inches from death.

So intimate, that when he pulls away to gauge you, you drag him down by his collar for another.

The flat of his palm cups the side of your face, and you hold the fabric of his suit to keep him right there. Deeper, this time.

Too long for him was a beast of its own entirely, one that grew claws in your nail beds as you buried your hands in his thick black hair and let yourself melt into pools of honey around him. He’s equally so fervent, passion radiating off him like an aura, all hands and twisting arms and his body covering your own. Your back is flat to the bed and he’s overtop of you, so familiar but so different from before. Real and raw. He’s gripping a fist into the pillow beside your head, the blanket shifting off the bunk entirely and pooling onto the floor, forgotten.

You pant when he breaks away, his hair tickling your face. He kissed your cheek, your jaw, and you’re excited to find his lips at your neck but instead he just kisses your jugular and buries his face within your collarbone.

You wait for him to try to take it further. To claim the prize he’d really been working for- that sickly-sweet nectar between your legs that always seemed far too eager to drag him in. But he doesn't, and he’s quiet, and he’s breathing in your scent.

And you haven't felt better in years. Clicked into place, even with the plane.

“Okay.” You pant., find his shoulders and trace lines down his back, marveling in his twitching muscles under your ghost light touches.

“Okay?” His breath is hot against your skin.

You pull him from the crook of your neck and pet down his face. He kisses your hand and you can’t stop this foolish grin from spreading over your face. A single nod.

“Okay. I’ll stay with you.”

He stops breathing.

“For the game… Or, afterwards…?”

“For the game and afterwards. If we make it out.”

All of his weight settles at once, as though you’d pulled the pounds lodged onto his shoulders off entirely.

“We will make it out.” His brows twitch together, caught between the cocktail of relief and trepidation, realizing that he could lose you all over again. He props himself up over you before he leans back on his knees, your waist trapped underneath his weight.

You prop yourself up on your elbows. “You don’t know that.”

The moment you start to get up, he feels the need to flatten you back out under him with those hands of his. And you’re just as happy to do so- watching him towering over you before he lays at your side and wrenches you against his curling form. He kisses the back of your neck, chaste and soft until your skin flutters under each one.

“Whatever happens,” You murmur, running your fingers over his knuckles. “I’ll stay with you.”

“We’ll make it out. I’ll make sure of it.” One more kiss to the back of your neck before he nuzzles you into him.

It feels right. It feels like being rewarded, like getting the thing you wanted most in life. You bring his hand up to your lips just so you can dot kisses another his wrist.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

#imagine #fanfic #namgyu x reader #nam-gyu x reader #nam gyu x reader #squid game #hurt/comfort #angst #drabble #fluff #angst with a happy ending

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stellar-constellations · 1 year ago

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i see u pleading for an andrew request so IM GONNA DELIVER 😼 what if. academic to lovers college au where y/n and andrew get assigned to a group project or smth (ion get how college works YET) and it’s actually really fluffy?? like maybe slightly yandere andrew where’s he’s a lil possessive but nothing too toxic that would scare a girl away irl.,.. okay that’s my idea good luck 🤧

Yandere! Andrew Graves x Reader (College AU)

Wordcount: 1,500+ words

Andrew and you had the same history class and your professor paired the two of you up to research about WWI and create a presentation for class. You couldn’t use the internet for research, so you had to resort to digging around the city's library.

Andrew was a bit annoyed at first for this project. He preferred working alone, it made it so others wouldn’t get in his way while working and so he could have all his work credited for.

Andrew quickly grew to respect you when you actually took the project serious instead of placing the work on him because he was smart, or just goofing off and not contributing. He respected that you could work efficiently at a decent-pace, but also you could have fun too. You could crack harmless jokes, and you could make something as boring as studying entertaining and fun while still taking your deadline and work seriously.

Andrew quickly breaks out of his shell with you. You just have some sort of aura that draws him to you, he can't help but laugh at your jokes or guide you through the books with him.

By the end of the first study session, Andrew leaves feeling happy to spend his time researching with you, and a bit sad that he has to wait until tomorrow to see you again.

The next day, you both go back to the library to research some more material for your project. You gather up what books you want to dissect today, sitting down at a table with Andrew to study, but he seems a bit distracted now.

Andrew's eyes drift from the pages to you repeatedly, he couldn't read a full page without looking at you twice, which made your work less efficient.

"Are you okay?" you finally questioned. Andrew seemed surprised that you caught him, his green eyes flickering in surprise, before he cleared his throat. "Um... yeah. I'm just thirsty." He lied. "Hey, do you want a drink? There's a coffee shop not too far from the here. We can continue studying there?" he suggested. "Sure." You smiled, seeing no harm in it.

Andrew looked relieved that you accepted his proposal. You both gathered your materials and books, walking together to the library. Andrew stayed walking on the side of the road, a silent act of chivalry that you probably wouldn't have noticed if you weren't observing him to see if he was alright.

When you got to the coffee shop and ordered your drinks, Andrew sat next to you in the same booth, your shoulders as he claimed it would be easier to point out what one another is talking about and to hear each other better in this crowded place.

Even though you both had gotten your drinks, Andrew's mind was still somewhere else. He was too busy staring at you, thinking of how pretty you looked with how your hair was done, or how your eyes looked in this coffee shop's lighting, or how you bit your lip slightly when you started to daydream while reading about the boring events going on for your project.

By the end of your second day together, you both had to leave the coffee shop because of how late it got. Andrew was disappointed he had to leave you, but he knew he'd see you tomorrow.

On day three, Andrew woke up early and stopped at the library to check out some books for today's study session. He dropped them off at his apartment, cleaning up his apartment some before walking to class. He sees you and sits next to you during the lecture, making small talk with you before class started.

Andrew and you goofed off a bit during class, but were still pretty productive helping each other out and not being too distracting to your other peers, so your professor allowed you two to stay seated together.

When class was over, Andrew mentioned how he picked up books earlier this morning during a grocery run since the library was just around the corner from him (liar). He said the books were at his apartment and that you both can study at his place.

You agreed. It'd be easier to study someplace where you wouldn't get kicked out for staying too long or for being too loud, and it's also helpful for if you get thirsty or hungry. You and Andrew walked to his apartment together as he walked on the side traffic was.

Andrew almost wrapped his arm around your waist, but felt that it would be too intimate for now (he didn't want to scare you after all!) He instead placed his arm around your shoulders and pulled you close to his side.

When you questioned what he was doing, Andrew leaned down into your ear and spoke: "it's loud out here with the traffic and all, this just makes it easier to hear you."

You ignored it, following him back to his apartment. He unlocked the door and allowed you to step inside, before closing it behind you and locking it. Andrew took you to his bedroom, saying the books were in there.

The books were on his bed as Andrew sat down on it, looking up at you, as if telling you to join him in bed. You did, sitting down next to him and picking up a book to start analyzing. Andrew had a bit of a hard time focusing with you in his room, on his bed, alone with his company. He was able to manage, reading and going over the topics with you.

Andrew played soft jazz music in the background, claiming that the music was around the same time period as the project, so perhaps it'd get them in the mood to keep studying or maybe the lyrics could have something mentioning the project. Either way, the music and all this reading was starting to make you sleepy.

Andrew noticed how your eyes drooped, and how your head started to bounce up and down as you tried to keep yourself away. He hid his smile by hiding his face with his book. Before you could try leaving, you fell asleep on his bed next to him. Andrew noticed, and after a few minutes of making sure you were completely asleep, he placed both of your books down on his dresser, writing today's research papers for the two of you since you were asleep.

Andrew curled up next to you, wrapping his arms around you as he admired your sleeping figure. He kept the jazz music playing in the background, just in case you woke up from him turning it off and so it looked like he fell asleep too when you would eventually wake up.

When you woke up, you were fairly confused and flustered that you had fallen asleep in Andrew's room, and even more flustered once you realized you not only fell asleep in his bed, but his arms too. Andrew stirred awake when you tried to move out of his grasp, realizing you woke up. He apologized (fake, of course) and said that when he sleeps he usually hugs a pillow, so he must've thought you were his pillow when he fell asleep.

It was a reasonable answer, so you accepted the apology and moved on, getting ready for class. In the next few days, you and Andrew were able to finish your project and presentation together, getting a perfect score with each other's help.

Andrew was disappointed that you two couldn't work together on the project together, so he proposed that you two become study buddies and help each other study. You accepted, making Andrew happy that he still got to see you and hang out with you after school alone.

When Andrew left to go back to his parent's apartment, he made sure to call you about the situation at home, the contaminated water and the quarantine and all. He called you everyday, for hours at a time as you both fell asleep on the phone lines.

When Andrew's calls faded all of a sudden, you were pretty concerned for him. He still wasn't in class, and he hadn't called you in almost a week despite your phone calls every day.

It wasn't until you got a knock on your apartment that you saw him. When you opened the door, Andrew rushed in and immediately picked you up, spinning you around in the air as he smiled.

"(Y/N)!" he smiled brightly, his hands on your hips as he spun you in the air happily. "Andrew!" you gasped, a smile making way on your face as you couldn't help but laugh as his actions. "Where have you been? Why haven't you been calling me?" you questioned, your face turning in confusion when you caught the whiff of something metallic on his clothing. "That doesn't matter." He smiled, setting you down on the ground as he looked at you adoringly. You noticed something on his cheek and used your thumb to wipe it off. It was a small blotch of red. Strange... "That doesn't matter anymore. She tried to keep us apart, but I wouldn't let that happen." He spoke, his eyes half-lidded as he stared into your pretty ones. "Nothing matters anymore. I'm here with you now."

Thank you for the request! I'm a huge simp for Andrew (especially yandere) so I had such fun writing this!

Want more Andrew Graves content? Check out the Andrew Graves masterlist!

Inbox is open for requests!

#stellar constellations #andy graves #andrew graves x reader #andy graves x reader #x reader #x you #x y/n #x yn #fem reader #x fem!reader #x female y/n #x female reader #the coffin of andy and leyley #andy and leyley #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x yandere #yandere x willing reader #yandere

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eepwtf · 2 months ago

Text

oh my GLOB i just saw this pic in my camera roll(don’t ask) and my brain immediately went to frat!kai parker

WARNINGS; explicit sexual content: contains detailed and graphic descriptions of sexual acts, including edging and overstimulation. jerking each other off(are you even frat bros if you don’t?) exhibitionism & voyeurism: includes references to the potential of being watched or caught during sexual acts. humiliation kink, kai being an asshole, slight power imbalance, ( im a sucker for asshole x dumb puppy dog duo ) accidental homoerotic frat energy: “it’s not gay, bro, it’s just mutual appreciation...of each other’s cocks.”

also, can i just say this started as an innocent brainstorming session about kai parker ! frat bro headcanons, but things got wildly out of hand, and now we’re here. sigh, my brain goes into a rabbit hole that i cannot escape when it comes to him.

wc; 5.5k

kai parker was the kind of guy who made you hate the sound of your own name. not because he said it wrong, no—that’d be too simple. he dragged it out, teased it, wrapped it in just enough contempt to make your chest tighten and your skin crawl. (the bastard knew exactly what he was doing, too, with that smug little smirk of his.) perched on the back of the delta psi beta couch—shoes still on, because of course he didn’t give a shit—he swirled the last inch of beer in his red Solo cup like it was top-shelf whiskey. he had that infuriating cocked-eyebrow thing going on, one leg stretched out like he owned the damn place. (technically, he kind of did—if being the unofficial asshole-in-residence counted for anything.)

the house reeked of stale beer, sweat, axe body spray, and regret. (it was a delta psi beta signature blend—eau de regret.) the floors were a graveyard of crushed cans and abandoned cups, the kind that leaked sticky trails when you tried to clean them up—assuming anyone ever did. over in the corner, some poor pledge was on his knees, scrubbing furiously at a blackish-green stain on the carpet. (it shimmered faintly in the light, like an oil slick, and everyone silently agreed that the less you knew, the better.)

and then there was you. (golden boy. president. the kind of guy who people just…liked.) you didn’t even have to try. your smile was easy, charming—sugar-sweet in a way that made kai’s teeth ache. you were sprawled next to kai, stupid grin plastered across that stupidly pretty face of yours, laughing at some dumb joke one of the other guys had made. your hair was a little messy (like it always was by the middle of a party), your cheeks pink from too many beers, and kai fucking hated it. not you, not really—he wasn’t sure he was even capable of hating you. (hating you would’ve been easier. cleaner.) but he didn’t exactly like you either, and that made him feel some kind of way.

maybe it was the way people clung to your every sugary, half-baked word. (kai talked, and people flinched. you talked, and they fucking laughed.) maybe it was how you could smile at someone and instantly get whatever you fucking wanted. (beer. a blowjob. a goddamn kidney, probably.) hated how your laugh was so genuine it made him feel like a fraud just sitting next to you. (fuck, he hated that he wasn’t immune to it. that sometimes he caught himself watching you and wondering.) or maybe it was the way you always squirmed when he turned his attention on you, when he got close enough to see that flicker of panic in your puppy-dog eyes.

“you good, president puppy?” he drawled, dragging his gaze over to you, slow enough to be a threat. (or a promise—same difference really.) his voice was low and syrupy, just the tiniest bit condescending, like he was addressing a particularly dumb pet. you blinked at him, smile wavering for half a second before you covered it up with a laugh.

“yeah, i’m good, parker,” you said, voice light and easy, even though kai could see the faint pink creeping up your neck. (you always got flustered when he paid attention to you. he loved that.)

kai tilted his head, studying you like he was trying to decide whether you were worth his time. (spoiler: you were. that was the problem.) he shifted closer, his knee brushing yours, his grin sharpening as he watched you try so hard not to squirm. “cool. just making sure, since you look a little…” he let the word hang, raising an eyebrow as his gaze flicked to your flushed face. “...overheated.”

you laughed again, this time nervously, running a hand through your hair. “it’s just hot in here, man.” (it wasn’t. not really. but if that’s the excuse you wanted to cling to, kai wasn’t going to stop you.)

“yeah?” he leaned in, close enough that you could smell the beer on his breath, the faint bite of mint underneath it. “if you pass out or something, i guess i can be the guy who saves your dumb ass. might even give you mouth-to-mouth.” his voice was teasing, but there was something dark and heavy under it, something that made your pulse stutter. (it was the way he said it, like he’d already imagined the scenario—and like it wouldn’t just stop at saving you.)

your laugh came out strangled this time, caught somewhere between discomfort and something else. something you didn’t want to think about. (but kai could see it. the way your pupils dilated, the way your pulse ticked in your throat, the way your eyes darted—just for a second—to his mouth.)

“careful, puppy,” kai murmured, his voice low and dripping with amusement. his knee pressed harder against yours, and his grin sharpened, baring teeth. “you’re starting to look like you want me to put you out of your misery.”

it wasn’t hard to persuade you. not really. kai had always been good at that—finding the cracks, prying them open just wide enough to slip his fingers inside. (and you? you weren’t exactly built to resist. puppy-dog eyes, soft around the edges, desperate to please. fuck, you practically came pre-cracked.)

one minute, you were still in the delta psi beta living room, trying to laugh off the weight of kai’s knee pressed against yours, the heat of his breath brushing your ear. the next, you were stumbling down the hallways of your dorm, your head spinning with too many beers and too much him.

(you weren’t even sure how it had happened. you were saying, “nah, i’m good here, man,” in that too-light, too-nervous tone of yours, and, kai had tipped his head, given you that sharp-edged smirk, and said something like, “c’mon, puppy. let’s get out of this shithole.” and you—golden boy, poster child for frat excellence—had followed him like a lovesick idiot. like a dog. like his dog.)

by the time you reached your dorm, the hallway was dead silent. most of your neighbors were passed out cold, their doors closed, or too busy fucking to care about the pair of you fumbling with your keys. (not that kai would’ve cared if they had been watching. in fact, he probably would’ve loved it—eyes on him, knowing he was the one who’d gotten under your skin, the one dragging the president of delta psi around like some kind of trophy.)

“you’re a mess, president puppy,” kai drawled, his voice syrupy and slow, thick with condescension. his hand was on your wrist, his thumb brushing the inside of it, and it felt like he was taking your pulse—measuring every shaky beat. (too fast. too loud. too much.) he plucked the keys from your trembling fingers like you were too dumb to handle them yourself. (and maybe you were. at least, around him.)

“i’m fine,” you muttered, your voice wrecked and unconvincing. your cheeks were burning, your head buzzing, and your whole body felt like it was vibrating. (you weren’t fine. you didn’t even sound close to fine, and kai noticed. of course he noticed. he always noticed.)

the door swung open, and before you could step inside, kai was already crowding into your space. his hand slid from your wrist to your waist, his fingers digging in just enough to make your breath catch. (he gripped you like you belonged to him, his to hold, to keep, to fuck with. it scared you how much you wanted it.)

“man, this is sad,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear again. (he wasn’t even trying to be subtle anymore, and why would he? you weren’t exactly putting up a fight.) “big man on campus, and you can’t even get your own door open. what would your brothers think?”

“i said i’m fine,” you snapped, but your voice cracked halfway through, and kai laughed. (it wasn’t fair, the way his laugh hit you—sharp and mocking, but hot enough to make your stomach twist.)

“sure you are,” he said, kicking the door shut behind him with the heel of his boot. his eyes dragged over you, slow and deliberate, like he was assessing you. picking you apart. you felt like you were being stripped bare, and he hadn’t even touched you—not really.

“god, you’re pathetic,” he said, almost to himself, his lips curling into that infuriating smirk again. (but there was something darker underneath it, something hungry. like he was debating what to do with you now that he had you alone. like he was wondering how far he could push you before you cracked completely.)

and then his gaze dipped. lower. lingering.

kai tilted his head, his tongue sliding over his bottom lip. “you know,” he said, his voice a low purr, “i’ve heard a lot of rumors about you, puppy.”

you froze, blinking at him. “rumors?”

“mhm,” he said, circling you like a predator, his eyes dragging down your body. (you’d never felt so small before, which was ridiculous, considering you were taller than him. broader. bigger. but none of that mattered with kai. he had this way of making you feel exposed, raw, like a stupid kid being toyed with by someone much smarter.)

“wanna know the most interesting one?” he continued, and before you could respond, his hand was there now, palming you through your jeans, bold and unrelenting.

“people say you’re packing, president,” he said, voice dripping with amusement. (your breath hitched. your pulse was thundering now, hammering in your throat like it was trying to escape.) “biggest dick in the house, right? that’s what they say about you.”

his grin widened, and his hand squeezed—not enough to hurt, just enough to make your knees buckle. “but you know what i think?”

“kai,” you rasped, but it didn’t sound like a protest. not really.

“i think,” he said, leaning in close enough that his lips brushed your jaw, “it doesn’t matter how big it is if you don’t know how to use it.”

and then he was laughing again, sharp and mean, pulling back just enough to see the look on your face—flushed, panicked, and wrecked. (exactly how he liked you.)

kai’s thumb pressed harder, teasingly slow as he tilted his head, studying you with that infuriating smirk. “fuck,” he muttered under his breath, though it was loud enough for you to hear. his blue-grey gaze dragged lower, zeroing in on the bulge straining against the front of your khakis. (it was humiliating—how obvious it was, how needy you looked. and kai? he was eating it up, his smirk twisting wider as his fingers flexed against you.) “i mean, they weren’t kidding, were they?” his hand tightened, fingers curling around the outline of your cock, squeezing just enough to make your breath hitch. (the noise you made was somewhere between a gasp and a whimper, and the way kai’s eyes lit up said he fucking loved it.)

“that’s what you’ve been hiding under those stupid khakis all this time?” he said, his tone mocking but tinged with genuine curiosity. his thumb dragged slow and deliberate along the length of you, tracing the thick ridge of your shaft through the fabric. (you could feel the heat of his palm through the layers, the weight of it making your cock twitch helplessly under his hand.)

you swallowed hard, your throat dry, your hands gripping the edges of your desk like they were the only things keeping you upright. “kai,” you choked out, trying to sound firm, but it came out as a broken, desperate plea. (not that it mattered—kai wasn’t listening to the words. he was listening to the way you said them. the shaky breath. the crack in your voice. the way his name sounded like it had been ripped straight from your chest.)

“poor thing,” he said, shaking his head like he pitied you. (he didn’t, though. you could see it in the glint of his eyes—he was enjoying this, taking you apart piece by piece.) “all that equipment, and no one’s ever taught you what to do with it.” he leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as his voice dropped lower. “don’t worry, puppy.” he murmured, the nickname dripping with condescension. “i’ll take good care of you. teach you how to use it. maybe even test drive it myself.”

the words sent a shiver down your spine, your knees buckling slightly, and kai noticed. (of course he noticed. kai always noticed. he had a way of zeroing in on every crack in your armor, the way your chest heaved, the way your cock twitched under his hand, already leaking pre-cum and soaking through the fabric.) “you like that, don’t you?” he whispered, his hand still moving against you, slow and deliberate. (the pressure was maddening—just enough to make you ache, not enough to give you relief. he wanted you like this, trembling under his touch, desperate for more.) “bet you’ve been walking around campus thinking you’re hot shit, huh? thinking you’re god’s gift to women—” he paused, his smirk twisting crueler, “—or maybe men. which is it, puppy? you ever let any of those frat bros get on their knees for you?”

your face burned hot, the shame curling in your stomach like a knot. you tried to look away, but kai’s hand shot up, gripping your jaw and forcing you to meet his eyes. “didn’t think so,” he said, his grip tightening just enough to keep you still. (you couldn’t look away, even if you wanted to. and god, the way his thumb dragged over your bottom lip, tugging it down slightly, made your chest tighten.)

“so fucking clueless,” he murmured, almost to himself. “but that’s okay. i like my toys a little clueless.” his thigh pressed between your legs then, pinning you against the desk, and you couldn’t help the way your hips twitched forward, seeking friction. (it was embarrassing—how little control you had, how easily he could reduce you to this. but kai didn’t look disgusted. no, he looked thrilled.)

“bet you’ve got all kinds of stupid fantasies, don’t you, prez?” he murmured, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth. (he didn’t kiss you, though. he could have, but he didn’t. he was holding it just out of reach, teasing you, making you want it.) he gave a sharp laugh when your hips bucked forward again, chasing the friction like a desperate idiot. “good boy,” he said, his voice rough and low, dripping with approval that made your chest tighten. (it shouldn’t have felt good—it shouldn’t have made your cock throb—but it did, and kai fucking knew it.)

“let’s see if you’re worth the hype, huh? let’s see if all that talk about delta psi’s golden boy is true.” his hand slipping down to hook into your waistband. (you held your breath, your pulse hammering in your throat as he dragged your pants down just enough to free your cock, hard and already leaking pathetically.)

kai sucked in a breath, his grin spreading wide as his fingers wrapped around you, stroking slow and deliberate. “well, shit,” he said, his tone sharp and taunting. “guess they weren’t lying after all.” his thumb swiped over the head of your cock, smearing the pre-cum dripping down your shaft, and your knees nearly gave out at the sensation. (you were already a fucking wreck—your skin burning, your breathing ragged, your hips jerking helplessly into his hand like you couldn’t help yourself.)

kai’s hand slid down the length of your cock, his grip tightening just enough to draw a sharp gasp from your lips. (it was pathetic—how easily he had you trembling, how greedily your hips jerked forward, chasing the maddening friction. and kai? he fucking thrived on it. the glint in his blue-grey eyes sharpened, turning darker as he savored every choked whimper, every helpless twitch of your cock in his hand.)

"god, you really are dumb," he drawled, his smirk carving deeper into his face. his thumb swiped over the head of your cock, smearing the slick, sticky pre-cum pooling at the tip, making you jolt in his grip. the noise you made—a strangled mix of a gasp and a moan—shot straight to kai’s ego, his fingers tightening around you in response.) “you’re already dripping all over me, and I’ve barely done anything." (he wasn’t wrong—the wetness was obscene, slicking up his palm and leaving a glistening trail along the underside of your shaft as he stroked you slow and deliberate, every movement calculated to keep you teetering on the edge.)

your knees buckled again, your thighs trembling as you gripped the desk tighter, your head falling back with a broken whimper. "kai, please," you rasped, your voice cracking on the word. (it was humiliating—how wrecked you sounded, how easily he’d reduced you to this. but the worst part? he drank in your wrecked state like it was the sweetest thing he’d ever seen, a predator reveling in his prey’s helplessness.)

"please?" he echoed, his smirk widening, the mockery in his tone cutting like a knife. "what are you begging for, puppy? huh? you want me to let you cum?" his hand slowed, his thumb pressing teasingly into the slit at the tip of your cock, dragging the slick wetness down over your shaft in slow, deliberate circles. “you want me to let you cum?” (the way he said it—mocking and filthy, like it was a joke—made your chest tighten, your cock twitching helplessly in his hand.)

"y-yeah," you stammered, barely able to get the words out between ragged breaths. "please, kai, i—"

"not happening, prez," he cut you off sharply, his fingers tightening around your cock until you gasped, hips jerking forward on instinct. (the pressure was just shy of painful, his grip like a vice that left your thighs shaking, your mind spinning as the line between pleasure and pain blurred into something overwhelming.) "you don’t get to cum until i say so. got it?"

you nodded frantically, your voice lost to the desperate sounds spilling from your throat as your hips bucked forward again, chasing the friction kai kept just out of reach. (it didn’t matter how desperate you were—kai was in control now, and he was taking his sweet fucking time with you.)

"good boy," he murmured, his voice low and rough, laced with approval that made your cock throb harder in his hand. (the praise shouldn’t have felt so good—shouldn’t have made heat pool in your stomach, shouldn’t have sent another pulse of pre-cum leaking from the tip—but it did, and kai fucking knew it.)

his hand started moving again, slow and deliberate, his thumb teasing the sensitive underside of your cock with every stroke. (the pace was maddening—just enough to keep the coil in your stomach tightening, your chest heaving as you clawed at the desk for something, anything to ground yourself.)

but just as you felt yourself start to tip over the edge, just as the tight knot of pressure in your gut began to snap, kai stopped. “ah, ah,” he scolded, his tone dripping with mockery as he pulled his hand away completely, leaving you throbbing and leaking in the open air. (the sudden loss of contact was agony, your cock twitching helplessly, desperate for the friction he’d stolen away. but kai just leaned back, his smirk twisting crueler as he watched you squirm, your wrecked little whines only fueling his amusement.)

"look at you," he said, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. "so fucking desperate, so fucking needy. Is this how you are with everyone? or just me?" (his eyes dragged over you, taking in the way your cock throbbed, the way your chest heaved, the way your hips twitched forward uselessly, searching for relief.)

“kai,” you choked out, your voice wrecked and broken, your hands trembling as you reached for him. but he caught your wrist with a sharp laugh, shoving it back down onto the desk with enough force to make your breath hitch.

“uh-uh,” he said, his tone sharp as he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. “you don’t get to touch me. you don’t get to touch yourself. you’ll sit here and take what I give you. understand?” (the weight of his words settled over you like a command, your head nodding frantically even as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, the need burning in your gut almost too much to bear.)

“good boy,” kai murmured again, his voice low and dripping with condescension as his hand returned to your cock, his fingers wrapping around you in a firm, punishing grip. (the pressure sent a fresh wave of slick pre-cum spilling from the tip, your hips jerking forward involuntarily as his pace picked up, rougher this time, just enough to keep you teetering on the edge.)

kai’s grip on your cock tightened, his fingers pressing into the slick, throbbing flesh as he leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “you know,” he drawled, his voice low and mocking, “i should make you beg louder. let everyone outside hear what a desperate little slut the president of the house really is.” (the words dripped from his mouth like poison, slow and deliberate, and the way his breath ghosted over your skin sent a violent shudder racing down your spine. your cock twitched in his hand, leaking shamelessly, and kai? he fucking noticed. of course.)

“god, just imagine it,” he continued, his smirk sharp enough to cut. “one of your precious brothers walking by, hearing those pathetic little noises you keep making.” he gave your cock a slow stroke, his thumb swiping over the head, spreading the slick pre-cum that was pooling there. “you think they’d recognize you? their golden boy prez, standing here with his cock out, dripping all over my hand?” his voice dropped lower, rougher, the words rumbling against your ear in a way that made your chest tighten, heat pooling low in your stomach.

(and he was right. god, he was right. the sharp edge in his voice, the shame curling hot and tight in your chest, the thought of someone walking in—it should have made you recoil, should have made you pull away. but it didn’t. it sent another pulse of heat rushing to your gut, your cock twitching shamelessly in his hand.)

“i—i don’t—” you started to protest, but the words dissolved into a broken moan as kai’s thumb pressed harder against the sensitive slit at the tip of your cock, smearing the slick pre-cum down the length of your shaft. (the sound of it—the wet, filthy noise of his strokes—filled the room, mingling with your shaky breaths and the soft creak of the desk under your trembling thighs. it was obscene, overwhelming, and it only made your knees buckle harder.)

“you’re such a fucking mess,” kai muttered, his grip tightening, his pace picking up just enough to keep you on edge. “standing here, dripping all over my hand like some needy little toy. what do you think your brothers would say if they saw you like this, huh?” his lips brushed against your ear as he spoke, his voice dropping into a filthy, teasing whisper.

“kai, please,” you rasped, your voice trembling, breaking, as you tugged weakly at his grip on your jaw. “someone might—”

“walk in?” kai cut you off, his smirk twisting wider. “yeah, they might.” he slowed his strokes, his hand moving in slow, deliberate circles over your cock, dragging his thumb along the sensitive underside with every pass. (the panic in your chest warred with the heat pooling low in your stomach, the thought of being caught making your thighs tremble. but it wasn’t just panic, was it? the shame, the humiliation, the filthy thrill of it—it had your cock throbbing harder, leaking more, the slick wetness making his strokes even louder, even more obscene.)

“hell, maybe i’ll leave the door open wider,” he mused, tilting his head as if he were actually considering it. “let them get a real good look at their precious prez, all wrecked and dripping for me. you think they’d believe it? that their golden boy is just a dumb little slut when he’s with me?”

the thought made your chest tighten, your cock twitching in his hand despite yourself. (you couldn’t help it—the image of someone walking in, seeing you like this, flushed and trembling, your cock flushed dark and leaking all over kai’s hand—it sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, shame burning bright and hot in your gut.)

“kai, don’t,” you choked out, your voice barely above a whisper, but he just laughed—a low, cruel sound that made your stomach twist.

“oh, puppy,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery as his fingers tightened around your shaft, squeezing just enough to make you gasp. “don’t act like you don’t want it. you’d love it if someone saw you like this. you’d fucking love it, wouldn’t you?”

(and the worst part? he wasn’t wrong. the humiliation, the thrill, the filthy heat of it—it was eating you alive, making your hips jerk forward, your cock throbbing against his palm as he teased you mercilessly.)

kai’s grin split wider as he watched you collapse against the desk, your body trembling and slack. you were so wrecked, so far gone, and yet somehow still holding onto whatever shred of dignity you had left—barely. your cock twitched helplessly in the open air, shiny with slick pre-cum that trailed obscenely down the length, pooling on the desk’s polished surface. “god, prez, look at you,” he muttered, his tone dripping with mockery as his gaze dragged over your wrecked body. “such a pretty mess.” his hand hovered near your face, fingers flexing like he was deciding whether or not to touch you again. (the anticipation made your stomach churn, heat pooling low in your gut as you fought the urge to beg for it.)

you whimpered, barely able to lift your head to meet his eyes, and his grin turned downright feral. “hmm? what’s the matter? cat got your tongue?” he teased, his voice low and mocking. then, slowly, he reached for his belt, his fingers brushing deliberately against the metal buckle before undoing it. the sharp, metallic clink sent a shiver racing down your spine. the sound was too loud in the quiet room, cutting through the heavy, oppressive air like a blade. it felt deliberate, like a show just for you, and your thighs clenched together, trying to hide the way your cock twitched at the thought of what was coming.

kai slid the belt free from the loops of his jeans in one smooth motion, the leather whispering against the fabric as he pulled it taut between his hands. “you think you deserve it?” he asked, his voice low and rough, every word dragging across your skin like sandpaper.

“i—” you swallowed hard, your voice breaking as you tried to speak. your throat was dry, your lips trembling as you forced yourself to look up at him. the weight of his gaze was suffocating. “i’ll do whatever you want, kai. just—please.” the words spilled out, raw and desperate, the humiliation sharp as you heard yourself begging. but you didn’t care. the ache was unbearable, your entire body trembling with the need for him to just touch you again.

“whatever i want?” he echoed, his voice dripping with condescension. he popped the button of his jeans, dragging the zipper down with an infuriating slowness. (the metallic rasp of the zipper sent another shiver through you, your breathing hitching as he shoved the fabric down his hips, revealing the outline of his cock straining against his boxer briefs.)

your gaze flicked downward, drawn to him like a magnet, and your breath caught in your throat. (the hard, thick length of him pressed against the fabric was impossible to ignore, the heat pooling in your gut turning molten as your thighs trembled.)

“like what you see?” he asked, his voice sharp with mockery, as if he could read every filthy thought running through your head. he steeped closer, his free hand reached out, fingers curling around the back of your neck, his grip firm as he pulled you forward. (the heat of his palm was dizzying, his skin rough against your own, and the closeness made it impossible to think—your cock throbbing painfully as you swallowed hard, your lips parting on instinct.)

you nodded frantically, your wide eyes flicking up to meet his, and kai’s laugh was sharp and cruel. “of course you do,” he muttered, shaking his head. “you’re so fucking easy.”

then he kissed you—hard, messy, claiming—his teeth scraped against your bottom lip, his tongue sliding into your mouth without hesitation. (the taste of him was overwhelming, bittersweet and electric, his mouth demanding and unrelenting, and the sharp sting of his teeth made a broken noise escape from your throat.) his fingers tightened in your hair, pulling you closer, and your hips bucked forward instinctively, your cock brushing against the hard length of his.

kai pulled back, your lips still parted and aching for his. strings of saliva clung between you, catching the dim light in obscene little trails as he licked his lips, his eyes gleaming with something dark and satisfied. “getting ahead of yourself, prez?” he teased, then, without waiting for a response, his free hand slipped between your bodies, wrapping around both of your cocks in one firm, unforgiving grip.

the sudden pressure made your knees buckle, a wrecked moan spilling from your lips before you could stop it. kai didn’t let up, his hand moving in slow, deliberate strokes that had your thighs trembling. (the slick slide of your cock against his sent shockwaves of heat through your body, your breath hitching as you fought the urge to thrust into his hand like some desperate animal.)

“fuck,” kai muttered, his voice rough and low. his eyes were locked on the sight of your cocks sliding together, his grip tightening as he picked up the pace. “look at you. dripping all over me like the needy little slut you are.” the words were cruel, but the heat in his voice, the way his breath hitched as his cock throbbed against yours, sent a fresh wave of arousal coursing through you.

“kai,” you gasped, your hips jerking forward as your thighs trembled, but he didn’t let up. his strokes were relentless, his pace a steady rhythm that had your breath coming in short, shaky gasps.

“bet you’ve never done this with your little frat bros, huh?” kai said, his smirk splitting wider. “jerking each other off after practice? getting off in the showers?” (the filthy imagery burned in your mind, and you couldn’t help the way your cock twitched in his hand, your chest heaving as heat flooded your face.)

“n-no,” you stammered, but the broken, wrecked tone of your voice only seemed to amuse him further.

“liar,” he hissed, his teeth catching the edge of your jaw as his strokes grew faster, rougher. “bet you fucking loved it. all those eyes on you. you’re such a goddamn exhibitionist, prez.”

your knees buckled, the tension in your body overwhelming as every nerve seemed to scream at once. your head dropped forward, your forehead nearly brushing his shoulder, and you gasped out a shaky breath, hips jerking forward in desperate, uncontrollable movements. the pressure in your gut was unbearable now, winding tighter with every stroke of his hand.

kai’s breath was hot against your ear, his lips brushing the shell of it in a way that made you shudder. his grip on your cock tightened, his strokes quick and unrelenting, every pass of his hand sending sparks of heat racing through you. he was relentless, calculated, dragging you right to the edge and holding you there, and it felt like your body was on the verge of snapping in half.

“don’t hold back,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, almost a whisper. it was close enough that you could feel the vibration of it against your skin. “cum for me, wanna feel it all over my hand.”

the words hit like a spark to dry kindling, and the knot in your stomach unraveled all at once. you came with a wrecked, desperate sound, your thighs shaking as sticky ropes of cum spilled over his hand, dripping down to pool on the floor between you. (the sight of it—messy and obscene—made your chest heave, shame and pleasure tangling together in a way that made your head swim.)

kai didn’t stop. his hand kept moving, relentless and precise, dragging you through the aftershocks with strokes that were both merciless and grounding. his own cock pulsed against yours, the sticky heat of his release smearing over your stomach and the softening length of your cock as he groaned low in your ear.

“fuck,” he hissed, his breath hot against your neck, his voice thick with satisfaction and something darker. his hand stayed wrapped around both of you, slick and filthy, dragging his release over your skin as he pressed his lips to the curve of your shoulder. “look at you,” he muttered, the words rough, almost reverent, as his teeth sank into the flesh of your shoulder. the sharp sting sent a jolt through you, grounding you even as your mind swirled, overwhelmed and dazed.

for a moment, the room was filled only with the sound of your ragged breathing, the wet, obscene slide of his hand slowing as he loosened his grip. his chest rose and fell against your back, warm and solid as he held you there, pressed close, his body a steadying anchor. He pulled back slightly, just enough to meet your gaze. his eyes were dark, heavy-lidded and glinting with amusement and satisfaction as his lips curled into a lazy smirk.

“messy,” he drawled, his voice low and languid as his fingers swiped through the cum streaking your stomach, smearing it further over your skin in deliberate, slow motions. he lifted his hand, holding it up for both of you to see. the sticky fluid dripped between his fingers, glistening in the dim light as he turned his hand slightly, watching the way it clung to his skin.

his blue-grey eyes flicked back to yours, the amusement there sharpening into something more commanding. “open up, puppy,” he said softly, the edge of authority in his tone leaving no room for hesitation.

your chest heaved, the remnants of your release leaving you spent and pliant, too dazed to resist. slowly, your lips parted, your body obeying on instinct. kai’s fingers slipped into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue, the taste of salt and musk filling your senses.

“good boy,” he murmured, his voice soft but cutting, the praise settling over you like a warm weight. his thumb dragged over your bottom lip, smearing a trace of cum there as he withdrew his fingers, leaving your mouth feeling empty, aching for more.

#eepwtf’s works ! ( •)▄︻テحكـ━一💥#kai parker x reader #male x male #top x bottom #x male reader #x male smut #18+ mdni #tvd smut #the vampire diaries

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cowboyfromh3ll · 1 year ago

Note

Could we get some sex hcs for Dutch, John, Charles, and Arthur (maybe even both sides of the honor spectrum) for how they are in bed and what kinks you think they'd have?

Kinks HC

(Dutch Van Der Linde, John Marston, Charles Smith, Arthur Morgan)

Warnings: smut, size kink, mommy kink, lactation kink, foot fetish, bdsm dynamics, daddy kink, sadomasochism, asphyxiation

Arthur Morgan

Size kink for sure

If you're especially smaller compared to him it drives him crazy

Would use his strength to his advantage and carry you while y'all fuck

Pins you down with his weight, holds you in place, carries you around, etc

Grips the head board...

Has probably broken a bed or two

High honor would mean he'd be a lot more considerate of your pleasure and what you want. Much gentler and passionate. Sex with high honor Arthur would feel a lot more like love making, but if you have requests for something a little rougher he'll indulge you in that. He'd be mindful of his size relative to you but it'd still be a huge turn on for him

Much like with high honor, low honor Arthur would also find a huge turn on in the size difference. Though he'd be a lot more selfish with pleasure. Not to say he wouldn't keep your enjoyment in mind, but he'd always get his nut in no matter what. One way or another. Also this man FUCKS, not necessarily makes love. Rough as hell and he finds enjoyment in your debauched flace and pleads. Will probably mock your moans for enjoyment.

John Marston

I said it before. Mommy kink. Let me elaborate.

Definitely a tits man, so he'd probably have a lactation kink too. Would beg to suck on your breasts when you're pregnant. Handles your chest like they're some treasure he needs to be careful with.

Aboslutely awestruck by the way your breasts increase in size throughout your pregnancy.

Gets antsy and hot and bothered whenever you lactate through your shirt.

Practically BEGS on his KNEES just to get a taste

As for the mommy kink, this is when he's submissive in bed

Probably likes it when you're rough on him when you're domming

I'm talking hair pulling, slapping, ordering him around

Calls you mommy the entire time and tries to get a nipple in his mouth whenever he can

Motherless behavior

Also feet, but that's a fetish. I can just see him frequently asking for foot jobs.

Charles Smith

I feel like he'd be pretty vanilla, but he'd still be flexible depending on what you like and what he's willing to do

One of the things he'd be more willing to do is asphyxiation. A gentle squeeze of your neck to putting you in a choke hold while he flexes

Is iffy about it but once he sees your red face and your eyes roll back he's all for it

Also praise! Any form of positive reinforcement in the bed room is a green flag for him.

Uses the most gentle and flowery words to take and make you feel comfortable

BRO JUST IMAGINE HIM SAYING "Good girl" IN HIS VOICE IM DECEASED

Also wouldn't mind letting you dom him once in a while. Would be down to be tied up. Thinks the trust aspect that comes with it is super attractive.

Dutch Van Der Linde

Roleplay 100%. Think it's fun to pretend to be other people. Supplies costumes, jewelry, props, anything to make it more realistic. Will even do location changes for it.

Wants to be called sir during sex, any other title or name and he'll view it as deserving of punishment

Brat taming, so be as bratty and bitchy as you want, he'll find a way to break you

Likes blindfolds, gags, bondage, leather

I can also see him pouring candle wax on you. Gets a rise out of inflicting these things on you

Likes to command you to do things such as laying down, spreading your legs, getting on yout knees, etc...

He sets the scene and everything, rose petals, candles inside his tent, slow music, he puts thought into EVERY detail

Now that I think about it maybe a daddy kink. For times when he's feeling dirtier and rougher he'll want you to call him daddy.

Thinks its so scandalous and it makes him feel so giddy

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead fandom #red dead redemption community #red dead redemption 2 x reader #writing #van der linde gang x reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan smut #john marston #john marston x reader #john marston smut #charles smith #charles smith smut #charles smith x reader #dutch van der linde smut #dutch van der linde x reader #dutch van der linde

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kzlove · 1 year ago

Text

handle you

syn -> eren proves that he can handle you.

warnings : smut, squirting, creampie, thick black reader, weed and alcohol usage, unprotected sex, spit, not proofread; just nasty

you were laying in bed with your led lights on, tv playing music softly from its speakers.

frank ocean, flo mili, sza, steve lacy, kali uchis, and whoever fit their way into the mood.

it was definitely past twelve o clock now, but you didn't feel even a bit of tired.

you take a couple pictures and post it on instagram, labeling it as 'bored' before posting.

you see a lot of your homegirls like it immediately, but of course they all was doing something.

sasha had a class to go to in the morning, annie was exhausted from work, pieck was with her boyfriend.

the only person that didn't heart it was mikasa, and that was probably because she was with her boyfriend too.

you drop your phone down and roll your eyes, deciding to begin working on your assignment due next week.

but you don't have to mess with it for long.

your phone buzzes next to you, gaining your attention from the laptop. an instagram notification.

onyandrift replied to your story : smoke sesh? wtw

you roll your eyes, recognizing the username as your boy best friend.

the two of you use to kick it with each other all the time, and even spent a few nights at his house over the summer in high school.

but you fell off, cause eventually he got a girlfriend and started to stream games and a bunch of other nonsense.

around that same time, you started focusing more on yourself.

loveyn : lame booooo loveyn : ion got weed to share w u

onyandrift : girl you nvr do onyandrift : i'm providing onyandrift : come kick it w me n a few of my hbs

loveyn : uhm loveyn : you think i wanna be around bare niggas tn??

onyandrift : stop yappin and get dressed im omw

you roll your eyes at the text and sigh, checking the weather.

it wasn't gonna be too cold, so you settled for this and grabbed your phone charger and lip gloss.

onyankopon doesn't live far, so it doesn't surprise you when you hear his audi a6 make that annoying popping noise outside your house.

you groan in annoyance and grab a water bottle before stepping outside, immediately walking to the car.

"why the fuck you still got that shit bruh?" you complain, climbing into the front seat.

he had on his essentials hoodie and black sweatshorts, grey yeezy slides on and a velvet durag.

he shoots you a grin before he takes takes your things and puts it in the backseat like he always did.

during your senior year, he had you sit outside with him in the hot ass sun while he put something on his car to make it noisy as hell.

he did explain what it was, but it wasn't like you really cared so you ignored him.

you didn't expect him to still have it though.

"who all gon be up in there ony?" you ask once he makes it to the stop light.

onyankopon sits back in his seat and things, rubbing the stubble on his face in fake thought.

"don't know." he fakes, before driving off when the light turns green.

you groan in annoyance, fixing your hair and at least making sure you looked good.

when you make it, he grabs your things and tells you to head to the backyard where everyone else is.

you follow his instructions, grumbling about how he had better sprayed all the mosquitos.

everyone was back there like he said they were.

it was armin, jean, mikasa, onyan's girlfriend zara, and some guy you don't recall ever seeing.

"hey girl! come sit!" mikasa grins, swinging her legs off jean and patting the seat beside her.

it happened to be between her and the random guy.

he didn't pick his head up to greet you or even look at you, tapping away at his phone.

'rude ass' you thought to yourself, sitting next to mikasa with a bit of a stank face.

she follows your view, and sighs, leaning back. "don't mind him. he just don't wanna be outside." mikasa reassures.

you roll your eyes and fix yourself, saying hi to everyone else.

onyankopon joins you all in the back with all the spliffs he had rolled after hitting everyone up.

sooner or later, lost by frank ocean was playing lowly on the speaker and you were all on your third spliff.

"this would be so much better if we had drinks." mikasa complained, leaning back onto jean.

he ignores her, because everyone knows how nasty she gets when she's drunk and high.

"fuck that. some fucking food would be amazing." armin huffed out smoke, handing the spliff over to zara.

everyone groaned in agreement, and you were the only one to get up with a hum.

you don't miss the way a pair of eyes trace your body as you stretch and fix your pants.

"finna go find sum in the kitchen for us to eat." you grumble, venturing into the house.

you close the screen door behind you and look through his cabinets with a frown, fixing your hair out of your face.

the sliding door to the backyard slides open and closed, making you turn to the sound.

it was the silent guy, eren, you learned his name was.

and now you could see him in proper light.

he wore a grey hoodie and a pair of baggy sweats, long hair pulled into a up and down.

you had to admit that he was fine, his wife beater seeming tight around his chest.

and green eyes staring you the fuck down.

"can i help you?" you question rudely, turning back to the fruit snacks in the pantry.

"maybe you can." he responds, and you hear him approach you.

now you know your position could be taken as anything but innocent, bent over inside a pantry.

you stand up straight and face him, looking him up and down. you weren't know easy bitch, and you won't be treated as such.

"you can't handle me." you complain, pulling your phone out and grab the whole box of fruit snacks.

he takes the box from you and puts it on the counter, smirking just a little bit at you.

"you don't think so?" eren questions, tilting his head teasingly.

you scoff, jabbing your nail into his chest harshly until he backed up.

"trust me, baby. i know." you grab the fruit snacks up and join everyone else.

"nah don't run now. thought i couldn't handle you?" eren grinned down at you cockily.

you were bent over onyankopon's guest bed, back arched and face smushed into the sheets.

one thing is for certain, you shouldn't have picked up that fucking cup.

mikasa brought out the liquor and poured everyone a cup.

which led to everyone spending the night at ony's house and crashing in every room.

mikasa and jean took the game room in the basement, ony and zara obviously took his room, while armin crashed on the long L shaped couch with eren.

or well, he should've.

you couldn't stop teasing him in that stupid fucking graphic tee ony lent you for the night.

which led you here, under eren's strong hold and getting your pussy pounded something serious.

"ooouu why you fucking me like this?" you whine out a bit too loud, reaching back to press on his stomach.

but eren shut that down immediately, slapping your hand away and stuffing all eight inches in your gut.

"all fucking talk." eren grumbles to himself, angling his hips upwards and fucking you even harder.

at this angle, his fat tip was slamming right into your g-spot.

your jaw goes slack in a silent scream as you push your ass back onto him, holding onto the pillow.

eren grins over you, slapping the flesh connecting your waist to your thighs.

"good girl.. take this fucking dick." eren grunts out, obsessed with the way your ass ricocheted off his abs.

"wait wait wait! m'gonna make a mess!" you pleaded with him, grabbing his strong arms.

hearing that only made him speed up, staring directly at your pussy as it clenched around him.

you screamed into the pillow, squirting harshly onto the sheets beneath you.

eren pulls out to watch, catching his breath and clapping your ass cheeks together.

when you catch your breath, you turn your head to figure out why he was so quiet behind you.

he stared back at you, before chuckling lightly. "onyankopon is gonna fuck us up." he joked, flipping you onto your back.

you rolled your eyes and get comfortable, staring at him from behind your lashes.

"not us. you. i told you i'd make a mess." you shoot back, letting him lift your legs up.

"uh huh. sure." eren says, not even listening to you as he pushes right back inside of you.

in this position, he reaches deeper inside of you and it makes you whine again.

you can't even think of a remark to say back, because his pace picks up once more.

eren wraps his hand around your throat and leans in, spitting in your mouth.

you accept it gratefully, swallowing and pulling him down to kiss him.

eren groans into the kiss, rutting into harder and rubbing your clit in rough circles.

you moan out, arching your back and grabbing his hand.

"fuck.. gonna make me nut in this pussy." eren groans out, moving his hand off your throat and kissing just below your ear.

you squeeze your eyes shut at the pleasure, bucking your hips weakly into him.

what he says doesn't register in your brain, your head going foggy as all you could focus on was how good he was fucking you.

eren starts to mumble something you don't hear clearly, bucking into you wildly.

you cum around him again, locking your knees behind him and digging your nails into his back.

eren groans in your ear, hips stuttering as he shoots thick, hot ropes into your sensitive pussy.

you flinch and whine lightly at the feeling, playing with his hair.

the two of you lay in your combined juices, still coming down from your highs.

eventually, eren turns his head to face you and grins.

"i gotta buy you a plan b?" he questions, rubbing your thigh in slow circles to get your full attention.

you shake your head and close your eyes. "i'm on birth control." you inform, taking a look at your nails.

"you gotta pay for my lashes and nails tho. got me fucked up." you grumble, looking at your broken index nail and missing pinky.

eren laughs at that, pulling out and climbing off the bed to pull his boxers back on.

"can't handle you my ass. don't ever let me hear you say that shit again girl." eren teases, helping you off the bed.

loud knocks make the two of you freeze, grabbing the sheets to cover your still naked.

a loud voice rings out from behind, making you remember exactly where you two were.

"aye make sure yall niggas clean up and take that fucking sheet home! got me fucked up, fucking in my house like that!" onyankopon complains, before walking off.

eren looks back at you with a grin, before slapping the fat of your thigh playfully.

he's never letting you stay over again.

#aot fanfiction #attack on titan #aot fluff #shingeki no kyojin #eren yeager #eren x reader #eren x black fem!reader #kz-loves-you #eren jeager #eren jaeger x reader #eren aot #eren jaeger #eren jaeger x black reader #eren x black reader #eren x black y/n

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ru8yx · 11 months ago

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Hi.i hope you're doing great .im not sure if you're taking request but would you please do the wedding scenario with clerivan pellet , gallahan lambardy (both are from i shall master this family) ,and kenneth esbande (miss not so sidekick)? Thank you

✩ ᵕ̈ ིྀ ! ♯ ❝ THE WEDDING; ❞ •˙ 🦢 ⌗ ⊱

⋆⋅ ━━━━ ‧ ❞ ‧ ━━━━

AWHH THANK YOU MY DEAR🫶🏻 im doing good!! And im taking requests ofc!!! I only did galla and clerivan bc i forgot about kenneth personality ( i didnt want to make him too occ) even though galla and clerivan are occ!!😭💕

🫧GALLAHAN LOMBARDY;

˖⋆࿐໋ ⋆ GALLAHAN as the lombardy would of course could have an Beautiful big wedding, since the lombardy sometimes love to show off their powers, but him personally, he would have a wedding where only his and yours families are there.

He would create many drawings of wedding gowns that would compliment your skintone ,and body! And of course the ones you feel comfortable, and would be overjoyed if you choose one of his gowns to wear.

His green eyes could only watch as you made your way twords him, looking so beautiful under the sunlight that shined from the windows, [e/c] eyes looking at his as he felt nervous, what if something goes wrong? What if hes a bad husband? What if you dont want to be with him anymore?

He felt nervous, how could you, an Beautiful and smart person love someone like him? The youngest son of the family, he believed you deserved better than what he can give you

(which is a lot since hes the richest person in the empire😭)

Tia would have a proud smile on her face as some hot tears slid down her cheeks, finally, her father had an happy ending with a person he loved the most, someone even Tia considered close to her heart.

🫧CLERIVAN PELLET;

˖⋆࿐໋ ⋆CLERIVAN as the assistant of the head of the Lombardy family, had a lot of money and respect, since of course. Who wouldnt give respect to the right hand man of Lord Lombardy, even if clerivan was born out of wed lock.

He would have a serious look on his face, waiting for you, someone who he didnt believe could make him love, to respect another in sucj ways, but the love from you, changed him into something better.

He fixed his glasses, his long blonde hair was tied in a low ponytail just how you liked it, he wore your favorite colour, everything was how you liked it. Since of course it was your special day too, and everything had to be perfect to you, if not... Well poor servants who helped to achieve this..

His blue eyes widen for a split second, watching as you made your way twords him, looking away from him for a moment as he lifted the vail, whispering how alluring you look, with such a fond and soft look on his face that left you in shock.

He could now proudly call you his spouse, the only one who could make his face go red, mind and body crazy with a simple smile directed to him.. Gods.. He was fallen hard..

#manhwa x reader #i shall master this family #I shall master this family X reader #clerivan pellet #clerivan pellet x reader #gallahan lambardy #gallahan lambardy x reader #tia lambardy #tia lambardy x reader

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a-boca-do-inferno · 9 months ago

Text

NSFW ALPHABET (caesar x human!reader) [request]

warnings: swearing, interspecies smut mention(duh)

words: 2.4k

notes: howdy caesar girlies! this was so much fun. im so excited bc ive never done a nsfw alphabet before, i hope i did well lol enjoy xx.

Aftercare; what he’s like after sex.

Affectionate to a fault. It would come to no surprise that Caesar is very protective of you—always careful not to hurt you given your difference in size and strength. He’ll constantly rub you arms up and down soothingly in silence, scanning you with his green eyes to look for any unintended marks he might have left on your hairless skin. The king restrains from being too rough a lot, but sometimes he can’t control himself and he knows it, even if you actually like it when he does that. And he’s not as stealthy as he thinks himself to be while checking on you, however you allow him to do it without any teasing comments, for his own self-reassurance. It’s adorable.

Body part; his favourite body parts of you.

Caesar has a thing for your chest. Regardless of size or shape, just the softness of it... How it fits into his big hand, how wrinkled your nipples get under his touch. Loves tasting your breasts with his tongue, cupping them, kissing them, the whole deal. And your belly, too; maybe it has to do with the fact that it’d be impossible for you to bear his child, yet he just cannot help himself from imagining how your womb would look like with a baby bump.

Cum; anything to do with cum, basically.

This ties into his love for your belly and the kink part later on, but obviously Caesar has a breeding kink deep down, even if he doesn’t think about it too much. In his more, shall I say, animalistic moments, his aching need to fill you up with his seed is almost unbearable. He becomes another person—another creature, even—whenever his eyes watch your entrance dripping with his semen, hot, pale, thick, trickling your thighs gloriously. The sight is enough for him to get instantly hard again.

Dirty secret; a dirty secret of his.

Caesar is just a sucker for the sounds you make, although he shall never tell you this; mainly because you two have to keep it low profile, otherwise it would be embarrassing—at best—for him to face the council the next day after the whole colony heard your passionate… love-making. He can get aroused by the tone of your voice only, when you speak a softer word or produce a deeper murmur. Especially if you talk into his ear. And even though he never actively makes you aware of it, you can tell whenever his fur stands on end after you whisper something to him, no matter how trivial the subject is. With one look, you know it’s on.

Experience; does he know what he’s doing?

Mostly. Caesar is undoubtedly well versed in the art of sex with a female ape, but with you—for obvious reasons—he will often ask what makes you feel good, genuinely curious and eager to learn so he can please you. It doesn’t take much for you to get him going, yet he knows human females have a different pace for things, as you’ve mentioned a few times in casual conversation. He’s thankfully not shy when it comes to learning new things, be them about sex or not, and that makes for a considerable improvement every time you two fuck.

Favourite position; this goes without saying.

Doggy. Albeit Caesar can’t help but find the term ridiculous, occasionally making a joke about it and calling it apey style—to which you only snort softly and roll your eyes. He loves seeing your shapely figure all bent for him, completely under his mercy while you take his cock with your face muffled against the nest, moaning repeatedly. His palm tightens around your hair, guiding the rhythm of his thrusts as he goes faster and faster, pounding into your very core. The king enjoys every second of it, coming inside you with warm spurts all over your butt. It’s really a sight to behold.

Goofy; is he more serious in the moment? is he humorous?

Caesar has a sense of humour, sure, but he takes your intimate moments very seriously. He’s a natural leader, after all; and with authority comes an almost unshakeable sterner and more focused way to behave. Fortunately, he knows when to loosen up in bed, and it’s usually at times where he can sense you’re a little nervous or insecure.

Hair; how well groomed is he? does the carpet match the drapes?

lol All natural here, baby. Rightfully so, and Caesar knows for a fact that you absolutely love his fur in all the imaginable places. His natural musk turns you on to no end and the king is very aware of that, frequently using it in his favour. It’s annoying sometimes, how he’ll rub himself on your side when you’re mad at him for some random thing, and you just melt instantly as his furry skin tickles you. Interspecies advantage that the king just loves.

Intimacy; how is he during the moment? the romantic aspect.

Tender and loving all the way, except when Caesar’s really feeling it, which usually occurs whenever he’s had a bad day and you happened to be spending a little too much time with other males. Not that he’s the jealous type—he’ll never admit it, but it adds more fuel to the fire when he can smell the scent of other apes on you. He’s determined to erase it and replace it with his.

Jack off; masturbation headcanon.

Wouldn’t go as far as to say Caesar is a big fan of it, since he’d simply rather have your inner walls around him as opposed to your hands, but he will occasionally indulge in it. It mainly goes down to how much time you two have at your disposal, and how much stamina. Caesar’s an old man, let’s face it; sometimes he just wants to nut with your presence around and it will be enough for him. His only concern is your pleasure, anyway, but we’ll get to that...

Kink; one or more of his kinks.

Breeding is just a dead giveaway at this point. The fact Caesar can’t ever impregnate you is both a lingering frustration deep within him and somewhat a relief when it comes to coming (hehe) inside you, seeing as he can do so as many times as he wants, free of charge. And believe me, he does it a lot. The best part of sex with you is when his nostrils flare and his cock pulses desperately, releasing his seed and marking you as his, just how nature intended—in his mind, anyway.

Location; favourite places to do the do.

Caesar’s got a thing for rivers, waterfalls, bodies of water in general. His favourite place to fuck you is underwater, preferably when you two go hunting and it takes longer than expected—something he often makes sure to happen, pretending to lose sight of a deer or two just so the sun goes down and he can use his favourite excuse that you should stay the night. He lives for the way you look all wet (hehe) whilst bathing in the river, so vulnerable and naturally beautiful, how the droplets contour your naked curves… The sound of water is a turn on for him too, yet you’re the one in the centre of his thoughts. There’s also a certain thrill of being in “public”, arguably, but he’s much too careful for it to actually be a risk.

Motivation; what turns him on, gets him going.

Caesar loves your curves because they come with a plus of smoothness that only human females have; the way they shift as you move, making your body a feast for his eyes. You were forced to sew your own clothing as time went by with you living in the colony, and the scarcity of animal fur makes for quite the flashy outfits that show a lot of skin—which he isn’t mad at, at all. This softness of your body shape, paired with your strength, makes you irresistible to him, embodying the perfect balance of sensuality and resilience. You are, to the king, the epitome of femininity in your own way, and he can't help but be drawn to it.

No; something he wouldn’t do, turn offs.

Caesar’s pretty open minded and easy-going sexually, but something he would never do is definitely share. No getting freaky with other males, even females, if he can help it, nope! He’s not jealous per se—or so he keeps telling himself, it’s just the mere thought of having your attention split between him and others, in your intimate moments, no less… It makes him mad, not just turned off. Besides that, anything goes, as long as you’re both safe; especially you. In bed, you’re the boss.

Oral; preference in giving or receiving, skill.

Oh, my, does Caesar love eating you out. There’s just something about the human anatomy of your pussy that he can’t get enough of; your scent, your taste, how much you squirm and suffocate him with your tender thighs. He loves to tease you with his fangs, grazing his teeth over your pelvis before going all in with his skilful tongue. He laps your folds as if he’d been in the desert, without water—or food, in this case—for far too long, just deeply savouring you. Again, he’d much rather have your vagina around his cock, however he can appreciate your orals too. He won’t ask for it, letting you decide when you want to do it, if you feel like it. He’s happy to oblige, but he’s definitely more on the giving side of things.

Pace; is he fast and rough? slow and sensual?

Caesar is adaptable. He’s mindful and watchful of your needs, only getting rougher on his own account in those moments where he’s unable to hold back from his most animalistic urges. His default is slow and sensual, always wanting you to let go and relax after busy days in the colony, and you’re beyond grateful for that. But when you want it rough, do brace yourself. Face against the nest and all that.

Quickie; his opinions on quickies, how often.

Loves them and there are seasons—around winter and autumn—when it happens more often, as the colony affairs take most of his time. Caesar’s a patient guy and would choose to do things at his own pace always, sure, but the reality of leadership isn’t all peaches and cream and he knows how to navigate through that with you like no other. Man got skills.

Risk; is he game to experiment? does he take risks?

Caesar can’t afford to take too many risks because he’s got a reputation to maintain, as stated before. But, he will definitely experiment within the limits—more so if it has nothing even remotely potentially dangerous involved, as he is overprotective of you.

Stamina; how many rounds can he go for? how long does he last?

Being a chimpanzee has its perks and one of them is definitely resistance. Although chimps’ intercourse is fairly practical and quick, Caesar’s simply built different. You reckon that’s also a reason why apes respect him; perhaps they can somehow sense the king’s physical advantages over any other males around. You have no complaints, that’s for damn sure.

Toys; does he own toys?

Caesar’s familiar with this concept after you tell him, but it’s no secret the options are scarce in your conditions. When you find an untouched vibrator in one of your scavenging trips to the city, though, his curiosity is instantly peaked. He’s still sceptical about the toy’s ability to satisfy you over his own cock, of course, yet the option seems more reasonable when you ask him to stimulate you further with it while he’s fucking you. He’s always happy to oblige if it adds to your pleasure.

Unfair; how much he likes to tease.

Caesar’s genuine nature doesn’t really allow him to make you suffer often, even if it’s for a reward later on, however he can tease you from time to time. Mainly whenever you get too cheeky with your jokes about giving more attention to the males in the colony, Koba from all apes. He finds himself rolling his eyes in a mix of impatience and amusement at your jabs about there being a thin line between love and hate for humans. Puffing his chest in response, he will sign to you playfully, with a cocky grin, that no other ape in the colony would ever be able to satisfy you like he can. Additionally, he makes his case for it that night, coming three times inside you without batting an eye. You have no choice but to yield.

Volume; how loud he is, what sounds he makes.

Fun fact: Caesar is regretfully much louder than he should, but he just can’t control himself with you. It’s particularly hard for him to shut the fuck up whenever you get the idea of bouncing on his cock. Not his favourite position, yet for some reason, just the sight of you riding him with so much necessity, practically coming undone with every movement is enough for the ape king to snarl and growl almost like he’s being gutted, filled with pure desire for you.

Wild card; a random headcanon.

Caesar’s favourite hobby includes casually grooming you after sex. Not that you have lice or anything like that; he knows you manage to keep up with your hygiene even whilst living with the apes, but the king enjoys bonding like this with you, similar to when you teach him new human customs he never got the chance to get in touch with before the flu.

X-ray; let’s see what’s going on under that... fur.

Caesar’s stature is impressive for an ape and his cock, while not disproportionate to his size, is certainly above average for his species. He’s thick and veiny, qualities that can both be a delight and a burden when you turn him on in public with your teasing.

Yearning; how high is his sex drive?

High as fuck. Seriously. Caesar might kill someone with his bare hands if he spends too much time without touching you. Apes already drive him crazy almost on a daily basis, but if on top of that he can’t even come home with the silent hope you’ll be there waiting for him to fuck you senseless, the ape king will fall apart. He’s that needy.

Zzz; how quickly he falls asleep afterwards.

Depends on what kind of a day Caesar had, really. If he’s been stressed and took the opportunity to blow off some steam, then he will be most likely to pull out of you and hold you to his chest, closing his eyes and drifting off the next minute. Oppositely, if he only improved his day by having sex with you at night, he makes conversation and asks about you and your day in the colony. Ultimately, it all comes down to context.

#caesar x reader #pota #pota x reader #planet of the apes #planet of the apes x reader #rise of the planet of the apes x reader #rise of the planet of the apes #caesar #dawn of the planet of the apes x reader #war for the planet of the apes x reader #war for the planet of the apes #dawn of the planet of the apes

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anonyymouslyyours · 1 year ago

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hi I have literally never done this before but I saw your post just now and thought what the heck

could you write a small thing about spencer reid where reader and him are neighbours and they both have a little crush on each other but never get to interact because spencer is literally never there

until either reader or spencer's apartment floods and it's 3am so they just go to their neighbour and there's maybe a cute confession?

(feel free to add your own pizzazz I love your writing!!!) <3333

hihihi girl! request anytime! this also ended up being a lotttt longer then intended <3

warnings: none, its fluffy its cute, like rlly cute and a bit cliche.

spencer reid. that was your neighbours name. considering he was home very little, you'd only seen him a few times and you've never even spoken a word; it seemed silly how much time you spent thinking about him.

you'll admit, your a sucker for a tall brunette with glasses, who wore ties and vests, and perhaps looked just a little nerdy. it was sweet, spencer looked very sweet.

he also happens to be your next door neighbour. like literally, you open the door of your house every day, and are confronted with the site of his own house. he's right there. you've debated sliding a note under his door, or just knocking and suggesting coffee, but you've always backed out.

the opportunity however, presents itself in a slightly annoying way. in the afternoon, you arrive home and walk into your living room to discover the entire floor flooded. one quick check of the house, and you've determined the entire place is flooded.

"jesus christ." you mutter, dialing a plumber and the flood services in your city.

when they arrive, its determined your house will be unliveable for 2 days. 2 whole days.

the plumber, matt, stares at you. "apologies, lady, but your pipes are pretty busted. its gonna cost you too."

you groan, annoyed.

"oh, uh your neighbour, you should check with them. see if they've got any issues." he adds.

you stop, spencer. your neighbour. you have a reason to go talk to him. you leave the plumber, and his little team to get to work, and cross the street to spencers house.

knock. knock.

maybe he isnt home. you look at his driveway. his car is there. the door creaks, and opens, revealing spencer reid. the man himself. in all his messy hair, rumpled shirt, afternoon glory. he pushes his glasses up, staring at you, suprised.

"hi. sorry i'm-"

"y/n." he says, quickly, and then flushes.

"right." your suprised he knows your name, though you do know his. "look uhm, sorry to bother you.. but my house kind of flooded. like everywhere. so, uhh- i was just checking if your house is all good."

his eyes widen. "your entire house? is flooded?"

you nod, grimacing. "yeah.. i mean my stuffs fine, i just have to find somewhere to stay and its a pain." you say, folding your arms and sighing.

he looks at you for a moment, thoughtful.

"uh.. besides from the fact im a total stranger.. you could um, stay with me? i mean. i have a guest room, im usually out all day. i'll cook." he says, quickly. he looks at you, expecting a no.

your suprised at his offer, intrigued even. he seems safe, your not uncomfortable.. and it would save you from having to stay in some cheap hotel.

"really? i mean- are you sure?" you confirm, raising your eyebrows at him.

he nods energetically, smiling. "i mean, it would be easier for you."

you nod, smiling back.

"well.. uh come in?" he says, shuffling to the side awkwardly.

his house is delightful, with heavy linen curtains, and tall bookshelves. the house is mostly wood, with touches of green and navy. it fits him perfectly.

"nice place you have here." you say, smiling.

"thank you." he says, staring at you for a moment. you catch him, and he looks away quickly.

"do you, uhm want a coffee? we can sit for a bit if you'd like." he says, gesturing at the couches in his living room.

you nod. "black with sugar, please."

"oh- i have mine just the same." he grins, hurrying off the the kitchen, before returning with a cup for you. he sits opposite you, studying you for a moment.

"so.. spencer, how long have you lived here?" you ask.

"5 years. which.. i think is a year longer then you?" he smiles.

"correct. uh, where do you work?"

he pauses, thinking thoughtfully. "truthfully, i work in the fbi. behavioral analysis unit." he says, staring right at you.

you shuffle in your seat, suddenly aware that this possibly means he can read your every emotion, or thought.

"thats very.. impressive, but then again you do have an intelligent look to you."

he chuckles, "well, i have been told i dress the part."

you laugh, smiling at him.

"you know.. i noticed you a while ago." he says, looking down at his coffee and swirling it.

you raise an eyebrow, curious.

"how so?"

"well, if i may be bold, your very- uhm very pretty."

your eyes widen, taken aback. you flush, letting out a soft giggle.

"you think so?" you whisper, staring at him. he finally looks up at you, nodding.

"do you say that to all the women you invite into your home?" you tease.

"i don't often invite women into my home.. in fact, you might be a first. quite special." he smiles. your cheeks feel hotter.

"well, spencer, i noticed you a while ago too. your very cute. you might be just my type." you say, staring at him.

its his turn to blush, and he looks nervous, as he turns away from you, lips parting into a smile.

"perhaps a blessing in disguise your apartment being flooded.." he whispers, the smile evident in his voice.

"i mean," you chuckle. "there has been one good outcome.."

"mmm.. silver linings and all." he says, turning to look you right in the eye. its sweet, hes very sweet. you think your very much going to enjoy your next two days here... perhaps even extend your stay.

#HES SO CUTE AWW #oneshot #fluff #female reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fluff #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid smut

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tired-truffle · 3 months ago

Text

Even the Gods Cry For Us

A Viktorxfem!reader fic

Chapter Word Count: 8.1k

"If there ever comes a day that I am asked how it felt to love you, I will say only this: It feels like now.

For I will be yours, even then.

Inhale. Exhale. You've always been like breathing." - Unknown

Part 9/17

Tag list: @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @potatointhedirt (if anyone else would like to be tagged with future updates let me know!)

Warning: Hallucinations

Masterlist

You’d been naive to think the good days would last. You’d woken up that morning, your new purpose making you feel renewed and excited as the sun crested over the horizon, the sparks mirroring you with little yips and sprints across your body as you got ready for the day. Viktor watched you, a kernel of mirth in his eyes, and you kissed his cheek before bidding him a good day and making your way to the newcomers's area. You’d devoted several days in a row to spending your daylight hours providing pain relief, and your evenings and nights with Viktor - holding him in your arms, talking about everything and nothing. Finally, it felt as though something was going right.

But the other shoe had to drop - as it always seemed to do.

It started as a rippling in your blood, a vibration that set all the hair at the nape of your neck on end. You spun around, heart racing as you scanned for any threats. But there was none, or rather, none that you could see. It hit you then, as the small group of newcomers watched you with curious confusion - a misplaced emotion, it should have been fear.

Like a sudden collision with a brick wall, energy burst from the ground, tearing a blood-curdling scream from your throat as it forced itself between your ribs, lacing around your heart and squeezing. Distantly, you registered the cries of terror erupting around you, but you had little space to process anything but your body coming apart at the seams, a clay pot broken and scattered in the wind before it smashed back again. Over and over, your flesh separated from muscle and bone and fused together in rapid succession.

What it looked like to those that fled, you had no idea, but the pinks and greens and lightning blues that surged from your skin in blocky, sharp formations had you wondering if all that pain was only happening in your mind, coming from your body. Why else did it look so…alive?

Had you finally lost it? The last shreds of your sanity gone, never to return. No, it felt different than that, and while your mind cracked and slipped beneath the pressure, this did not come from you. This was something else, something bigger.

“Milá,” you heard Viktor say, a cry of relief poised at the tip of your tongue. But when you looked up, that small modicum of relief dissolved like sugar in water. It was Husk who kneeled before you, his eyes shining an unnatural yellow hue. “Hold on, I am on my way to you.”

Startled, you recoiled and frantically searched for footing on the dry dirt floor. That was Viktor's unmistakable voice emanating from Husk's mouth. The lilting accent that you had become so accustomed to hearing now sounded eerie and foreign coming from that unfamiliar vessel.

Husk held up his hands, his eyes losing their glow. “It’s okay,” he said, his voice this time. “Everything is going to be okay.”

But it wasn’t, and everything burned and you didn’t understand why. Another surge of pain overtook you and you fell onto your back, arching as your muscles clenched and contorted. Your mouth fell open in a a desperate attempt to release your torment and you screamed, so deep and agonized you were not sure you’d ever be able to make another sound again.

A thin hand on your cheek had your eyes flaring open, ready to push and shove away from the perceived threat. But all that filled your vision was Viktor, face twisted with concern. His hands hovered over you, the purple light of his magic reflecting away like a forcefield had set up around your writhing body.

A whimper worked its way up and out of your throat, tears falling in crystalline shards into your hair, sticky with sweat.

“I can’t stop this,” he breathed, frustration in the crinkle of his nose.

You reached out desperately, fingers clawing at Viktor's robes as another wave of searing agony ripped through you. He pulled you onto his lap, cradling your trembling form against his chest. His hands found their way into your sweat-damp hair, stroking gently as he murmured soothing words that were barely audible over the roaring in your ears.

The pain ebbed and flowed like a violent tide, each peak leaving you gasping and shuddering. Viktor's arms tightened around you, as if he could shield you from the invisible force tearing you apart. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his familiar scent. It anchored you, giving you something to cling to as your world spun out of control.

"I'm here," Viktor whispered, his lips brushing against your temple. "Hold on to me. It will pass."

You wanted to believe him, but as another surge burned through you, you weren't sure you'd survive it. Your fingers dug into his arms, and had he been made of skin and bone, you would have left crescent-shaped marks lined with blood. He didn't flinch, didn't pull away. Instead, he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead.

Agonizingly slowly, the pain began to lessen. The vibrations in your blood calmed and the pressure around your heart eased. You slumped against Viktor, utterly spent, your breaths coming in ragged pants. The world around you came back into focus - the dry earth beneath you, the warm sunlight on your skin, the gentle breeze carrying the scent of dust and distant flowers.

Viktor's hand continued its soothing motion through your hair, his other arm wrapped securely around your waist. You blinked up at him, your mind reeling. His eyes, usually alight with curiosity and wit, were clouded with worry and a hint of what looked suspiciously like fear.

“I am going to bring you back home now. Are you ready?”

But you were already home with him. Did he know how special he was to you? How much you loved him?

Your head bobbed weakly, unable to summon the strength to do much else. The peace you'd found, the purpose you'd discovered - it all felt like it was slipping away, leaving you adrift in a sea of doubt and uncertainty. You clung tighter to Viktor as silent tears tracked down your cheeks.

The world had shifted beneath your feet, and you weren't sure you'd ever feel steady again.

Gathering you up like a lifeless scarecrow, your limbs too weak to do anything but flop uselessly, he lifted you with one hand under your knees, and the other beneath your shoulders. Your head lolled against his chest, eyelids fluttering against the sun that shone into the clearing.

You drifted in and out of consciousness as Viktor carried you, your mind a hazy swirl of fragmented thoughts and feelings. Your surroundings spun together like disjointed watercolours, nauseating in its jarring movements, yet peaceful, in a way. Was this what dying felt like? No, you decided, you’d felt death before, and it had been nothing short of unpleasant.

Searching for something to ground you, you rolled your head to the side, fighting against the nausea that threatened to overwhelm you. Your bleary eyes struggled to focus, the world a portrait of blurred shapes and colours. Then, like a photograph snapping into clarity, you saw one of Viktor's patients watching from the shadows of a nearby building. Eliza? Elissa? You couldn’t remember her name, but you had met her while she’d sat with the rest of the newcomers as you eased their pain.

In the span of a heartbeat, everything changed.

Her face…it wasn't human anymore. Where flesh should have been, there was only smooth, lifeless metal. Holes riddled the surface like shots from a gun, half of her golden skull caved in. No eyes, no mouth, only indents, and an expressionless void staring back at you.

Terror seized your heart, your body tensing so violently that Viktor stumbled. A strangled cry tore from your throat as you buried your face into his chest, fingers clawing at his robes like it could save you.

"No, no, no," you whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut against the nightmarish image.

"Milá? What's wrong?" Viktor's voice was urgent, concerned, but you couldn't bring yourself to look up, couldn't risk seeing that metal creature again.

"Make it stop," you pleaded, your voice muffled against his chest. "Please, make it stop."

You felt Viktor pick up his pace, his arms cradling you even closer as he hurried towards safety. But the image of that caved-in mask, lifeless and terrifying like a puppet with its head kicked in, was seared into your brain. You shook your head, caught between the lingering pain in your body and the fresh horror in your memory.

“We’re almost there.” Viktor brought you a modicum of relief, though you refused to look up - still too terrified of seeing that creature once more.

Viktor parted the canvas covering of your makeshift shelter and carefully laid you down on the soft blankets below. Taking a seat at your side, he reached out with his slender fingers and brushed them across your forehead, gently sweeping away any stray locks that obscured your view.

“What…” you cleared your throat, “what was that?”

Viktor held a cup of water to your lips, tilting your head up to help you drink. “I do not know, though it seemed to only affect Hextech. And you. Concerning, to say the least.”

Right, he hadn’t seen what you had, he figured you were referring to your magical freakout.

Licking your wetted lips, you asked, “Why was the only thing it affected outside of Hextech, me? Shouldn’t you have been affected with the Hexcore?”

“That is a very pertinent question that I intend to investigate.” He tucked the blankets up and around your chin and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“Mother-hen,” you grumbled as he continued to tuck you in. He made no attempts to refute the claim, simply allowing his lips to cant into a telling smirk.

Once sufficiently tucked and swaddled, his gaze returned to your face, scanning you with ever-changing eyes.

“I’ll be okay.” You gave him your best lighthearted smile, though you did not have the energy to make it entirely convincing. “But did I…hurt anyone?”

Biting your lip, you could hear the echoes of their cries of terror as your magic exploded. Again. Had anyone been caught in the blast? You hadn’t had the awareness to notice.

“No. No one was harmed save for you. And I am sure that once they calm, they will not hold this against you.” His knuckles traced the line of your cheekbone. “It was not your fault.”

“But—“ you started, but Viktor spoke over you.

“Ah, ah, ah, no buts. I will not have you carrying guilt over something you could not prevent,” he said, firm, but kindness still lingered around his softened eyes. “Rest now, and we may discuss more when you wake.”

It was hard to argue with that, and the bone-deep exhaustion from the attack had left you with very little willpower to resist sleep.

He removed your boots and pants with practiced ease and already your eyes began to drift closed, Viktor’s touch soothing the flares of panic left over from the incident. Within seconds, you fell into a deep sleep, drawn beneath the waves of your consciousness like a shell upon the sand.

Viktor was a busy man and you hadn’t expected him to stay with you for the entire time you were asleep. However, it had been a shock to wake up and find that not only was he gone, but that Charlotte had taken his place. She’d pulled up a chair at your bedside, humming quietly to herself as she knitted what appeared to be a tiny sweater for a child. It took you a moment to recognize her - the last time you’d seen her was before she had been healed by Viktor. Her face had remained largely the same, but her body moved with such ease, her once missing arm now made of Viktor’s enhancements.

She smiled softly when she noticed you start to shift, carefully putting her knitting down. “I’m so relieved to see you’re awake, dear. I was beginning to get a little worried there, even though the Herald,” you flinched at the honorific, though she did not seem to notice, “assured us that you would be fine. Two days of sleep is concerning, but then again he does have a rather miraculous way of healing.”

Two days…no wonder Viktor had stationed someone here with you. That attack must have taken more out of you than you’d realized. And by the Gods did you ever have to pee.

“Yeah, sure,” you offered her, unable to think of anything more intelligent to say. You pushed yourself up to sitting, and with incredible speed for someone her age, Charlotte kneeled beside you, offering support at your back.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, and a memory tickled at the edges of your brain, a mother, grandmother maybe, had said those words with the same tenderness. But you were essentially a stranger to Charlotte, why did she seem so genuinely worried?

You shrugged, your body burned the same as it always did, that lingering Shimmer just below your skin, the pain that never truly went away. But it was bearable.

“I’m okay, just weak and hungry. And I really have to pee.”

She gave you a warm, understanding smile, her arm linked with yours as she guided you towards the outhouse. The soft rustle of leaves in the distance and the gentle chirping of birds accompanied your slow steps. As you reached the small structure, you entered, and to your surprise, Charlotte made to follow you in.

“I can sit on a toilet without help, Charlotte.” You leaned against the frame, tired, but sure that you had the strength to do such a simple task.

She clucked her tongue, coyness sparking in her eyes. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, I changed and bathed many a young girl. My daughter and her friends were always getting into trouble.”

“All the same, I will be peeing on my own.”

Charlotte stepped back. “If you’re sure, dear. Shout if you fall in.”

You snorted a laugh. “You’ll be the first to know.” And closed the door behind you, ensuring to flip the lock, just in case.

By the time you were finished and ready to head back, you realized with a start, that the camp was much larger than you remembered. Tents spread out further, light reflecting off a strange, circular building in the centre, and throwing it into the darker recesses. It seemed to almost have doubled in size.

Shelters had been set up for people to do metal work, clothes spun from discarded fabrics - thoroughly cleaned - in another. Even the fields of produce had grown in size, easily able to provide enough for the residents.

In all your bewilderment and awe, it took you a moment to realize that Charlotte was leading you towards the centre of the camp, instead of back towards your tent.

When you voiced your confusion, she simply patted your arm and said, “The Herald wants to tell you himself.”

Ominous though that was, the title of Herald doing nothing to quell your nerves, you did your best to keep your head down, avoiding looking at any of the passersby. Did they fear you? Viktor had been sure that they wouldn’t, but you weren’t willing to risk it.

As you approached the circular, webbed building, your eyes widened in wonder. Intricate metallic strands wove together, forming complex and oddly familiar patterns that seemed to pulse with energy. It reminded you of the same glowing web that had arched off of Husk when Viktor had first healed him. The late afternoon sun glinted off its surface, casting shimmering reflections across the ground like ripples on a pond.

All thoughts on the strange architecture vanished upon seeing Viktor emerge from the opening that led further into the dome. A soft smile spread across his handsome features when he saw you, though it seemed rather muted. As he strode towards you, his long legs eating up the distance, it was as if someone had turned down the dial on his expressiveness - a quality of his you had always held dear.

But as he drew near, you saw the change. It was like watching a light switch flick on. His iridescent eyes blazed with life, the corners crinkling as his smile deepened. His posture loosened, becoming more fluid and natural. It was as if colour had been poured back into a faded photograph, bringing it vividly to life.

The transformation was so sudden, so jarring, that you felt a chill run down your spine. What had caused that change? And more importantly, what had caused the dimming in the first place?

Pushing aside your unease, you turned to thank Charlotte for her help, but the words died in your throat. Where Charlotte's kind face should have been, you saw only a smooth, metallic surface, unseeing eyes, closed lips, expressionless, its chin missing like it had been smashed over and over again on a sharp rock.

You stumbled backwards, a strangled cry falling from your lips. Your legs gave out beneath you, but before you could hit the ground, strong arms caught you. Viktor pulled you against his chest, steadying you.

You looked up at him, relief flooding through you at the sight of his familiar face.

You blinked.

And it was no longer your Viktor staring down at you.

Shiny grey metal contoured to the shape of a sleeping face, but devoid of any warmth or humanity, cut through the centre by a sleek metal strip that fanned out at the forehead, golden glowing eyes at the sides. Soft, chestnut waves fell to its shoulders, a swath of grey at the bangs, so different, so human compared to the eldritch face that held nothing but emptiness. It was both beautiful and terrifying, and though every part of you screamed at the bone-deep understanding of who this was, you didn’t want to admit it.

You’d recognize Viktor no matter what he looked like.

You stumbled backward, wrenching yourself from Viktor's grasp. Your heart pounded in your ears as you scrambled away, nearly tripping over your own feet in your haste. Frantically, you rubbed at your eyes, willing the vision to disappear.

"Milá?" Viktor's voice, muffled and distorted, called out to you.

You forced yourself to face him, blinking rapidly - and like a mirage dissolving in the desert heat, the mask faded away. Viktor's concerned face came into focus, his brow furrowed with worry. Beside him, Charlotte stood whole and human once more, her weathered features tight with confusion.

"I-I'm sorry," you stammered, your voice trembling. "I'm still…on edge. From everything that happened."

Charlotte's expression softened, understanding blooming in her kind eyes. "It's not a problem, dear," she patted your arm reassuringly. "I'll leave you two be. Take care of yourself, Mila." With a final, motherly smile, she turned and made her way back towards the camp, her newly enhanced arm swinging naturally at her side.

You watched her go, trying to shake off the lingering unease that clung to you like a second skin. The visions felt so real, so vivid. Were they merely hallucinations born of trauma and exhaustion? Or was there something more sinister at play?

With a hand on your back, Viktor steered you inside, your face turned into his chest, the blanket he now wore as a robe soft against your skin. If you couldn’t see their faces you couldn’t have visions of terrifying metal masks and empty skulls, now could you?

“It's only us now.” Viktor shut the door behind you, blocking out the main chamber/

Reluctantly, you raised your head, eyes darting around to ensure he told the truth. The room was larger than the shelter you were used to, with smooth walls that curved gently upward to form a domed ceiling. A futon-like mattress rested on the ground in one corner, piled high with soft blankets and plush pillows. The sight of it made your weary bones ache with longing - even though you’d just slept for two days straight.

Off to the side, a curious window caught your eye. Unlike any you'd seen before, it filtered light rather than allow a view of outside. Soft, diffused sunlight spilled through, painting the room in a warm, golden glow. It was as if the essence of a summer afternoon had been captured and distilled into that single beam.

Your sparks, sensing your fascination, darted towards the window. They danced in the light, their tiny forms casting fleeting shadows on the floor.

A small desk sat against one wall, its surface neat and orderly. Various tools and instruments were arranged with precision, their purpose a mystery to you but undoubtedly clear to Viktor.

In the center of the room, a circular rug added a touch of softness to the otherwise utilitarian space. Its intricate pattern reminded you of the complex circuitry you'd seen in some of Viktor's creations, but woven in homely, earthy tones.

Your sparks, having completed their initial survey, returned to you. They spun around your head in excited circles, as if trying to convey their approval of this new space. Their enthusiasm was infectious, and some of your tension began to ease.

As you turned back to Viktor, you noticed a small alcove near the entrance. Inside sat a basin filled with clear water, a stack of clean towels beside it. The thoughtfulness of that simple amenity brought a lump to your throat.

This room, modest as it was, felt like a sanctuary. A space designed not just for functionality, but for comfort and healing. It was a physical manifestation of Viktor's care for you, and the realization made your heart swell.

You took a deep breath, the air was somehow fresher and cleaner than outside. It carried a faint metallic tang, mingled with the soothing scent of lavender - likely from the small potted plant sitting on the windowsill.

“Did you…” you took one step into the room, the fluffy blanket laid over the mattress beckoning you, “Make this?”

“It was a group effort, as most things are in the commune.” His chest pressed against your back and he leaned over, his breath tickling your ear. “But it’s not for communal use.”

“I sleep for a few days and all of a sudden it goes from camp to commune,” you said, scanning the room as though it would reveal all sorts of hidden secrets.

Viktor brushed his fingers over your shoulder, catching on the collar of your shirt. “Is it not to your tastes?”

You narrowed your eyes and shot him a glare, conveying your unfiltered thoughts on the matter. You’d stayed in much worse without a complaint - this new room was perfect.

He held his hands up in mock surrender. “I wished to ensure you would be comfortable here, that’s all.”

“Sure you did.”

With hesitant steps, you approached the inviting mattress. Your fingers ghosted over its smooth surface, before giving it a light kick to test its firmness. Satisfied, you lowered yourself onto the center and were pleasantly surprised by how comfortable it was. It may have been placed directly on the ground, but its downy softness made it feel like you were floating on a cloud.

You flopped back, spreading your arms out to the sides, and letting out a contented sigh. Viktor’s low chuckle had you peering at him through one cracked-open eye.

“I will take this as a sign of approval.”

Crooking your index and middle finger, you said, “It’s missing something.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow, answering your beckoning and kneeling at the edge of the bed. “And what could that be?”

You grinned impishly, hooking your legs around his waist. “You,” you said as you tugged, sending him toppling over you. He’d expected your move, had seen it coming from a mile away, and had prepared himself. With a nimbleness you were not used to him possessing, he caught himself on outstretched arms, his mirroring grin giving you only seconds to realize that he had his own tricks up his sleeves - or down the openings of his robes, his sleeve equivalents.

He scooped his arms around your torso, locking his knees on either side of your waist and rolling. You were suspended in midair, tilting upside down as he shifted onto his back with fluid grace.

You hadn't been prepared for the sudden impact, your body landing on his chest with a definitive thud. Your limbs flailed haphazardly, seeking something to grasp onto in the soft blankets. But Viktor was ready for your fall, and his arms, surprisingly strong for someone so slender, encircled your waist with a firm grip. As he held you tightly against him, he showered your scrunched-up face with a series of quick kisses. Your nose, your eyelids, your cheeks, nothing was safe from his affection.

“Viktor!” You laughed, slapping his chest playfully. “Viktor, stop that!”

He pulled away, his bottom lip jutting out in a much too adorable pout that had you caving almost immediately.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you admonished, though the upward curl of your lips undermined your severity. “I have some very important topics that we must discuss, and I can’t have you distracting me.”

He sighed, all drama and pitiful glances. “If that is what you wish.”

“It is, you goofball,” you kissed him once, a quick peck and nothing more - how were you supposed to resist? You propped yourself up on your elbows, your face mere inches from his. Maybe you could just waste the rest of the day kissing and snuggling him. He’d been working so hard, did he not deserve a day off? But you sobered up as your questions came reeling to the forefront of your mind.

“Did you find out what happened when I…” you trailed off, becoming quiet as you resisted the urge to curl in on yourself. “When I lost control?”

“You should know I disapprove of you carrying that blame,” he said with a pointed look.

You smiled sheepishly. “I know, I know, I’m working on it.” You ducked your head beneath his chin, settling. “But back to my question, did you figure it out?”

He swayed his head from side to side. “It came from the Hexgates, a…disturbance, though I have yet to find the source. It affected all other Hextech products, but why it affected you I am still unsure.”

You frowned, carding your fingers through the soft locks of his shaggy brown waves - it had gotten longer, a bobbed length that you loved more than you would have thought. “But what about you? You felt it, right? Even though you have the Hexcore inside you and I have no Hextech. Unless we count the magic I syphoned from the Gemstones.”

A light sparked to life in his eyes, as it always did when he was thinking over some great conundrum. “I imagine I would have ended up in the same state as you, had I not been able to…suppress it.”

You froze, your fingers stilling in Viktor's hair. "Suppress it? What do you mean?"

But before he could respond, a flicker of movement caught your eye. You turned your head, breath hitching in your throat as you saw the walls of the room begin to shift and warp. The smooth surface rippled like water, bulging outwards in places as if something was trying to push through from the other side.

Your heart raced and you watched in horror as faces began to emerge from the writhing metal - distorted, agonized visages with gaping mouths and hollow eyes. They silently screamed, their features twisting in pain as they struggled to break free from their prison.

You scrambled backwards, nearly falling off the bed in your haste to get away. "Viktor," you gasped, your voice trembling. "What’s happening?"

But when you turned to look at him, you recoiled in shock. Where Viktor's face should have been, there was only a smooth, featureless expanse of metal. No eyes, no mouth, just a blank slate that reflected the terror in your own eyes, bulging like a fish out of water.

A scream tore from your throat, choked with terror, as you frantically pushed yourself away from the bed. You tumbled to the ground, limbs tangled and heart racing. Huddled into a tight ball, you squeezed your eyes shut and covered your ears with trembling hands in a frantic attempt to silence the nightmarish visions.

"Milá." Viktor's voice barely registered through the roaring in your ears. "Milá, look at me."

You shook your head, keeping your eyes firmly shut. "No," you whispered to yourself. "You're not real. None of this is real."

Gentle hands pried your own away from your ears. "Miláčku, please. Open your eyes."

Slowly, hesitantly, you cracked one eye open. Viktor's face swam into view, his features etched with concern. No blank slate - just the man you loved, looking at you with such tenderness you thought you may melt.

"There you are," he said, cupping your face in his hands. His touch was grounding, anchoring you to reality. "Focus on me and tell me what you see."

You took a shuddering breath, forcing yourself to really look at him. "I see...your eyes," you began, your voice barely above a whisper. "They're like pale rainbows."

Viktor nodded encouragingly, his thumbs stroking smooth lines on your cheeks. "Good. What else?"

"Your hair," you continued, reaching up to run your fingers through the soft strands. "It's always a mess, falling into your eyes. But I love it. It makes you look less…polished."

As you spoke, the room around you began to stabilize. The writhing faces in the walls faded away, leaving only smooth metal surfaces once more.

“Good,” Viktor praised, “and one more.”

A spark darted around Viktor’s head and nestled against his shoulder. “My sparks,” you said simply.

Your breathing slowed, matching the steady rise and fall of Viktor's chest.

"I'm sorry." You dropped your gaze. "I don't know what's happening to me."

Viktor tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes. "Do not apologize. Whatever is occurring, you are not alone."

You nodded, swallowing hard against the lump in your throat. "I keep seeing things. Terrible things. People with metal faces, no eyes, no mouths. Just…empty."

A shadow passed over Viktor's face, so brief you almost missed it. "At first I thought it was just leftover from the…incident,” you admitted. “But it feels so real, and it's been a couple of days."

Viktor's arms tightened around you. "Whatever these visions are, they are not our reality. Not now, and not ever, if I have any say in the matter."

You nestled closer to him, drawing comfort from him. "But what if they become real? What if we can't stop it?"

"Then we will face it together," Viktor said firmly. "But for now, we must focus on the present. On healing you, and understanding what has happened."

You nodded, feeling some of the tension drain from your body. Viktor was right. Worrying about hypothetical futures wouldn't help anyone - but that had never stopped you before.

“And I suspect that while your magic is your own, its original source has lingering patterns that match Hextech, making you susceptible to the surge within the Hexgates.”

“Will it happen again?”

“Perhaps, but I could not find any signs that pointed to trouble.”

You hummed, mind drawn back to that moment of agony that raced across your worn skin, your magic shredding the last of your sanity. Husk had spoken to you with Viktor’s voice, and his movements had been so eerily similar it had been like Viktor was piloting the man’s body. But you couldn’t trust yourself anymore, your visions and nightmares blending with reality.

But you could trust Viktor.

“When I was, uh, you know, screaming on the ground and all that,” eloquent, as always, “did you, like, speak through Husk, or was that another hallucination?”

Viktor was silent for a beat, the light buzz of life outside drifting in through the closed window.

“I did,” he said at last, “though I should have realized that doing this without your knowledge would only serve to frighten you. I apologize for adding to your distress.”

You weren’t entirely sure how to feel about his casual statement. Brief mentions of possession - if that’s what it was, though you couldn’t think of a more apt description - had been few and far between in the books you’d read on mages back at the Academy. But they’d all had one common theme: possession never led to anything good. Then again, it had said similar things about Motus Mages, and you had yet to burn down any cities. Yet.

“And Husk is okay with that?”

“Yes.” A plain and simple answer for a morally complex question. Dread slithered up the back of your neck like a snake shedding its skin. Could it really be that easy? To take over another person’s body with their consent. While the Hexcore had never had your permission, you couldn’t help but think about how it had made you feel like a frog caught in an oil slick, grease coating your skin as you struggled for breath. Surely it didn’t feel like that with Viktor, his compassion and care were so different from the Hexcore’s malevolence.

“Can you do that with everyone or just Husk?” you asked instead of spewing your unease in unpracticed words.

“Only those who have accepted my healing, and only if they are comfortable with it.” Viktor’s hand traced absent-minded shapes across your back. “I would never force it upon someone unwilling.”

You curled your hands into fists in his robes. “I know,” you breathed, letting your shoulders release from their rigid posture, the feel of his fingers along your spine enough to unwind the knot of worry coiled beneath your ribs. “It’s just…you didn’t tell me.”

A sudden, sharp grip on your ankle had you jolting out of your relaxed state, breath catching around a scream. With quick reflexes, you pushed yourself up, eyes wide as you searched for the source of the claws digging into your flesh and—

There was nothing there, the feeling vanishing as you made the connection.

Your breath came in sharp pants, pupils blown wide with fear. It had felt so real, the calluses, each individual claw, the heat of your blood pooling and running down your leg.

The sparks hopped their way over to your ankle, humming inquisitively as they assessed you for damage.

A tender hand on your cheek gently steered you away, returning your panicked gaze to Viktor. His eyes shone with profound sadness, oceans filled with multicoloured fish, and at their depths sat understanding, the ever-constant sea bed.

“I didn’t tell you,” he started, thumb smoothing the crease between your brows, “not because I was trying to hide it from you, but because I worried I had already put enough on your plate. There have been many changes as of late. I wanted to give you more time to adjust.”

You exhaled, tired and scared and wanting more than anything to stop being such a burden. Though you dared not voice that thought aloud, knowing he would correct you, disapproving but sympathetic all the same.

“I appreciate you looking out for my well-being, but next time, I would much prefer if you told me sooner. I’d rather know than be surprised later on.”

He nodded, the swish of his hair on the sheets accompanying the creak of the bed as he shifted his legs. “That can be arranged.”

You huffed, lying back down to rest your head against his chest, finding peace in the gentle beat of his heart beneath yours. Was it mechanical like the rest of him, or had it remained the same? Did it make a difference if it was flesh and blood or metal if it belonged to him? The answer was easy; no, it did not. It was Viktor’s heart, and as long as it kept beating, whatever it was made out of mattered little in the end.

You nestled closer to Viktor, letting his steady heartbeat lull you into a fragile sense of calm. But as you lay there, a prickling sensation crept up your spine. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, and you couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching you, its gaze boring into your back with malicious intent.

Your muscles tensed, every instinct screaming at you to turn and face the threat. But fear paralyzed you, rooting you to the spot. What if you looked and saw another nightmarish vision? What if this time, it didn't fade away?

Instead, you buried your face deeper into Viktor's chest - if that was even possible - squeezing your eyes shut. Your fingers curled into the soft fabric of his robe and his arms tightened around you, one hand moving to stroke your back in slow, soothing circles.

Viktor didn't say a word, seeming to understand your need for silence. He simply held you, his touch a constant reminder that you weren't alone.

The presence behind you felt closer now, looming. You could almost feel its breath on your neck, cold and unnatural. Your heart raced, and you struggled to keep your breathing even.

Desperate for distraction, you focused on cataloging every sensation. You felt the rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek, steady and reassuring. The soft cotton of his robe against your skin, worn and familiar. His fingers tracing patterns on your back, their touch feather-light yet grounding.

You inhaled deeply, catching his familiar scent - a blend of metal and pine and ink. It filled your lungs, pushing back against the imagined scent of decay that had been creeping into your nostrils.

The mattress beneath you, soft yet supportive. The cool metal of Viktor's arm where it rested across your waist. You listened to the ambient sounds of the room - the quiet hum of whatever powered the lights, the distant murmur of voices from outside, the whisper of fabric as Viktor shifted slightly.

Gradually, the feeling of being watched began to fade. The imagined presence retreated, leaving only the solid reality of Viktor's embrace. Your tense muscles slowly relaxed, the knot of fear in your chest loosening its grip.

You exhaled shakily, finally daring to open your eyes. You tilted your head up, meeting Viktor's gaze. No words were needed; his eyes said it all. You were safe. You were loved.

Minutes ticked by, and you remained safe.

“There is…another topic we should discuss,” Viktor said after you had fully returned to a state of calm. Had you not been laying on him, you would have missed the minute tensing of his body.

Rolling off of him, though remaining firmly tucked against his side, you laid your head on his shoulder. “Which is?”

His eyes - swirling between muted blues and yellows and every colour in between - remained firmly trained on the ceiling. “I’m sure you noticed that when I merged with the Hexcore, I lost certain, uh, functions.”

Ah, you’d wondered when this would come up. Why the Hexcore had stolen that part of him when merging him and his clothes into a metal body, you didn’t quite understand.

The sparks squealed, scattering in all directions and disappearing into the folds of the blanket. Good, this was a private conversation and you didn’t need them listening in.

“I did,” you said plainly, pushing the tremble in your voice down with the flat side of your tongue.

“And,” he turned his face towards you, his hair shifting to hide the hint of blush that bloomed at the tips of his ears, “does this…bother you?”

“Are you asking if this changes how I feel about you?” Threading your fingers through his, you gave him a reassuring squeeze.

He considered this, frowning as his eyes darted around in thought. “I don’t mean to doubt your affection, only that the physical aspect of a relationship is vital to most.”

“Maybe, but since when have we ever been typical?” Smiling softly, you pulled his hand to your lips, placing a delicate kiss on his knuckles. “Does it change things for you?”

“No,” he said without hesitation, “it does not.”

“Good,” you kissed the tip of his nose, revelling in the low laughter that reverberated through his chest and into yours. “Besides, I…” you sighed, closing your eyes to block out the shadow that moved in your peripheral. “I don’t think I’m exactly well enough for any of that. Nothing ruins the mood like hallucinating some sort of disintegrated metal marionette.”

It isn’t real, it isn’t real, it isn’t real.

“I suppose so,” he said with a sparkle of mirth in his eyes. “But when you are well enough—“

“It still won’t change anything.” You cut him off before he could go further down that road. “I love you, Viktor. You could lose all your limbs, be an invisible, untouchable spirit, and I would still love you.”

“You should not ignore your needs in favour of soothing my ego, Milá.” He fixed you with a hardened look, not angry or condescending, but resolute.

Brushing his hair behind his ear, you grinned. “Since when have you had an ego that needed soothing?”

When he opened his mouth to protest, a spark beat you to his lips, pressing firmly against them as it squeaked its protest. Viktor’s brows raised as he stared down his nose at the diminutive creature.

“They’re getting bolder,” he said out of the corner of his mouth, watching in amusement as it chased his words, flattening itself against the seam.

With the spark on your side, you too were feeling bold. “If we ever get to the point where I have…” the boldness wheezed from your pours as a redness tinted your cheeks, “needs of that variety, we can talk about it. But I don’t want it to just be about me, it’s about what you want to.”

Pinching the spark between your thumb and index finger, you pulled it off his lips, the tiny thing shrieking its irritation as you placed it behind you.

Viktor's eyes softened as he gazed at you, a small smile gracing his lips. "What I want is for you to be happy and fulfilled in all aspects of our relationship."

Warmth bloomed in your chest at his words. Even after everything you'd been through, Viktor's devotion to your well-being never wavered. It was a constant in a world that seemed increasingly chaotic and unpredictable.

"I am happy," you assured him, reaching up to kiss the spot on his cheek where metal became skin. "And fulfilled."

As you lay there, held in Viktor's arms, you felt a sense of peace settle over you. The shadows that had been lurking at the edges of your vision receded, chased away by the warmth and safety he provided.

But a nagging thought tugged at the back of your mind, refusing to be ignored. "Viktor," you said hesitantly, "what exactly happened while I was unconscious? How did the camp, I mean, commune, grow so much in just a few days?"

Viktor was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was careful, measured. "The disturbance in the Hexgates had far-reaching consequences, not to mention Piltover’s weaponization of the Grey. Many in Zaun were affected, and many have become sick or injured. Word spread quickly of my abilities, and people came in droves."

You propped yourself up on an elbow, looking down at him with wide eyes. "But how did you manage to expand so quickly?"

"We worked tirelessly," Viktor said with a hint of pride. "Many of those we had already helped stayed to assist others. The community rallied together in a way I had not anticipated. It was… inspiring."

You could hear the wonder in his voice, the genuine amazement at what had been accomplished. But something still didn't quite add up.

"And the new buildings? The fields?" you pressed. "How did you create all of that so fast?"

Viktor's eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw something flicker in their depths. Uncertainty? Guilt? It was gone before you could be sure.

"I may have, uh, pushed myself further than was strictly advisable," he admitted. "The Hexcore allows me to interface with technology in ways that are still not fully understood. I was able to expedite the construction process significantly."

You frowned, concern creasing your brow. "Viktor, that sounds dangerous. What if you had hurt yourself?"

He reached up, cupping your cheek in his hand. "I was careful, I assure you. And the benefits far outweighed any potential risks. We've been able to help so many. To give them hope and a new start. This is everything I dreamed of when first founding Hextech."

You wanted to argue further, to make him understand the fear that gripped your heart at the thought of him putting himself in danger - pushing himself to far. But the look of earnest determination in his eyes gave you pause. This was important to him, you realized. Not just the healing, but the creation of something larger than himself.

You leaned into his touch. "Just…promise me you'll be more careful in the future? I can't bear the thought of losing you."

Viktor's expression softened, a tender smile curving his lips. "I promise, miláčku. I will be careful."

As if to seal his vow, he pulled you down for a gentle kiss. You melted into it, letting the heat of his touch chase away the lingering chill of your fears. His hand clasped the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss. You could taste the faintest hint of metal on his tongue, a reminder of his transformation, but it was Viktor and you savoured it.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, you found yourself captivated by the swirling colours in Viktor's eyes. They seemed to dance with devotion, reflecting the golden light filtering through the curious window. For a moment, you lost yourself in their depths, transfixed by how they could be both familiar and foreign at the same time.

The sparks, sensing the shift in mood, cautiously peeked out from their hiding spots in the blankets. They zipped around you both, their tiny forms leaving trails of light in the air. Their excited chirps filled the room, a joyful counterpoint to the steady hum of Viktor's internal mechanisms.

You hated to break the calm once more, but there was yet another piece you had to discuss.

"Viktor," you began, your voice barely above a whisper, "there's one more thing."

He hummed in acknowledgment, his fingers resuming their soothing strokes along your spine.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. "I, um, I'd prefer if you didn't speak to me through other people. Like you did with Husk."

Viktor's hand stilled on your back, and you felt him tense slightly beneath you. "May I ask why?" he inquired, his voice carefully neutral.

You bit your lip, considering your words. You couldn't bring yourself to tell him how deeply it unnerved you, how the thought of him inhabiting another's body had every nerve in your body screaming about the wrongness of it all. Instead, you opted for a partial truth.

"It's just with everything that's been happening, all these visions and hallucinations, I worry it might confuse me," you explained. "I need to be able to trust what I'm seeing and hearing, and if I can't be sure it's really you…"

You trailed off, leaving the implications hanging between you. The room seemed to hold its breath, the usual ambient sounds fading into the background as you waited for Viktor's response.

After what felt like an eternity, Viktor spoke, his voice soft but resolute. "If it would ease your mind, I will not communicate with you in that manner."

Relief washed over you, and you felt some of the tension leave your body. You tilted your head up, meeting Viktor's gaze. His eyes shimmered with understanding and a hint of regret. "Thank you," you murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw. "I know it's a useful ability, but…”

"Your comfort and peace of mind are more important," Viktor finished for you, his arms tightening around you. "I should have considered how it might affect you, given your recent experiences. I apologize for my oversight."

“There’s no need to apologize, we’re figuring this out together, remember?”

“You’re quite right,” he said as he placed a kiss on the top of your head. “Together it is.”

And you would have it no other way.

Next Chapter

A/N: He just– Loves. You. So. Much! I will never tire of writing these sweet little moments <3 And some much-needed conversations!

You may have noticed that some 'Milas' have an accent on the a and some don't. This is on purpose, only Viktor has an accent on the a since he pronounces it differently, if that makes sense.

I just wanted to warn again about hallucinations, they will be continuing at this frequency for a bit, if you have any questions or want me to give you the specific parts to avoid please message me or leave a comment, I am more than happy to help!!

I kinda went off the 3 things DBT exercise here, I find its a good one for grounding yourself in reality :) And poor Mila really needs some of that right now!

#angst with a happy ending #fluff #viktor league of legends #viktor x you #viktor x reader #viktor arcane #arcane fic #fem reader #reader insert #hurt/comfort #eventual smut #tooth rotting fluff #machine herald viktor

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rubyreduji · 2 years ago

Text

timeless — ljh

summary: you’ve just met jihoon, yet something about him feels familiar

tags: fluff, romance, reincarnation?, gn!reader warnings: arranged marriages, mentions of death and war reader notes: no pronouns or explicit gender descriptions but they do take a more feminine role in history, jihoon picks up the reader but my mans is strong okay don’t worry wc: 10.3k an: i’ve been writing this for over a month now fjdskla and i like the finished product but im a bit worried the format is choppy but either way please enjoy and show it lots of love...also happy first fic of the 2nd year of rubyreduji!!!

“Soonyoung, stop it!” You scold your best friend as he giggles at you.

“Just go talk to him!” Soonyoung tells you, pushing you towards the door to the antique shop next to your favorite boba place.

Him refers to the cute cashier you always see through the windows when you and Soonyoung go and get boba (which is about three times a week). It’s nothing more than a hallway crush but Soonyoung keeps insisting that it could be more than that if you would just go talk to him.

You don’t actually want to talk to the boy who stands at the counter with a smile, but before you can stop him Soonyoung is opening the door to the store and forcing you inside. When you turn around to chew your best friend out, you find him not there, his back already retreating to the boba shop.

A part of you wants to just dash back out the door but the bell attached to the door has already gotten the attention of the cashier and you can’t escape now.

“Welcome to The Eternity Emorpium, today anything marked with a green sticker is 20% off.” The voice isn’t what you expected Cute Cashier to sound like but when you turn around to face him, you realize you’re not talking to Cute Cashier at all.

Rather than the tall boy with glasses you’ve been peeking in on for the past few months, you come face to face with a short yet buff boy with long black hair. He most definitely is not the guy you came in for, but you have to admit he is just as (if not more) cute than the other cashier.

You’re not sure how you didn’t notice that your normal Cute Cashier wasn't behind the counter, but in your defense you were too busy fighting off Soonyoung.

You give the new cashier—who you have now dubbed Even Cuter Cashier—a smile, before pretending to look at all of the memorabilia set out. The actual shop is nice with an obvious theme and specific layout that only someone with an eye for aesthetic and organization could create. On the speakers a Bruno Mars song is playing and you wonder if it's the cashier who has control over the music or just a general store playlist.

You feel awkward walking around the shop, letting out fake hums every once in a while to make it seem like you're actually shopping and not just sneaking glances at Even Cuter Cashier whenever you can. You stop in front of a playing card deck and you pick it up, flipping it over in your hand a couple of times.

"Oh, we just got those in," Even Cuter Cashier says, startling you a bit. "Put them on the floor this morning. You into cards?"

"Oh, uh," Shit. This is your chance to talk to him, "yeah. My dad is more of a collector than I am, but I can see the appeal."

"Nice. Yeah I'm more of a guitar collector myself, but my wallet wishes I wasn't," he says and you both laugh.

"That's cool though. I would love to learn how to play an instrument but I definitely don't have the talent or patience for that." As you speak with the man you slowly start to drift towards the counter.

"Hey, anyone can be talented, it just takes practice." You quickly glance down at Even Cuter Cashier's name tag to see his actual name is Jihoon.

"Good inspirational quote, but I think I'll just stick to the playing cards," you tell him with a grin as you set the pack down in front of him.

Jihoon just pushes the cards back to you and when you give him a questioning look he just grins. "They’re on the house.”

“Oh no, you don’t have to do that,” you tell him.

“I wanted to,” he says. “Maybe it’s just my plan to get you to come in here again.”

You smile at Jihoon, your face starting to turn a bit hot. You pick up the pack of cards and bid goodbye to the cashier before turning and leaving. Soonyoung is standing outside the door with two boba cups in hand. He peeks in when you open the door and frowns.

“That’s not Cute Cashier.”

“Nope! That’s Even Cuter Cashier,” you tell your best friend.

“You’re abandoning the other guy already?”

“I can’t abandon someone I don’t even know,” you scoff, “and anyway, I think I like Even Cuter Cashier. Something about him…it feels like destiny.”

Soonyoung laughs at you, but you ignore him, your mind still lingering on the dark haired boy from earlier. The more you think about him, the more your heart starts to grow warm. You can’t place it, but something about Jihoon feels familiar, and you need more.

1500s

“You are to be married to Prince Wonwoo before the solstice hits.”

Your head shoots up, staring at your father, not sure if you hear his words correctly. There’s no possible way he said that. You can think of a dozen reasons why that’s impossible, a few including: 1. You’ve never met Prince Wonwoo in your life, why would he want you as his betrothed? 2. You two did not have a courtship and it would be a scandal for you two to get married without presenting as a couple to the public first. 3. Your family is not nearly important enough to be noticed by royalty. 4. (And this is the biggest one) You are in love with someone else.

Well, your father doesn’t know that you’re in love with someone else, but it’s still an important fact to note.

Despite all of these reasons, your father continues to talk about the arrangement, not noticing the shock on your face. You wonder about how it came to be, and without you hearing even a whisper about it.

“You will be meeting with a royal advisor in two days, please do not cause any trouble.” With that your father walks ways, leaving you with a million questions brewing your mind.

The main one being: how are you going to tell Jihoon about this?

For over a year now you’ve been seeing the same man, sneaking out whenever you can to meet him. He came into town with a bang (quite literally — his caravan practically falling apart with all of his belongings crashing to the ground as it did) and you’ve been captivated by him since.

Your days are never boring when Jihoon is around, the two of you either going on adventures or hanging out in Jihoon’s (new) caravan. Though, you think your most favorite times spent with Jihoon are late at night, when you two meet up on the outskirts of your estate grounds, right on the edge of the forest.

There never is any guessing as to what Jihoon has planned. Some days you two walk around the garden under the moonlight, talking and gazing up at the stars, while other nights you’re whisked off to another town to dance the night away in a hidden tavern. You love the guise of the night, being able to do whatever and be whoever without the fear of onlookers and their judgment. It’s just you and Jihoon in your own little world.

Maybe that’s why you’ve been keeping him a secret for so long, you like keeping him all to yourself. No one can taint your relationship if they don't know about it. Though you suppose that has backfired on you now.

You don’t see your father for the rest of the night and when the sunsets and you slip out the back door and walk down to the forest edge, you do it with a heavy heart. As always Jihoon is standing next to the tree he carved your initials in, a wide grin on his face and a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

As soon as he spots you approaching his face lights up in a grin. He trots up to you the rest of the way, scooping you up into a hug.

"I've missed you," he says, pressing kisses to your lips and cheeks. You giggle at his antics.

"You saw me two days ago, my dear."

"Oh but that's two days too long for an aching heart in love."

Other people may think it's cheesy but you can't help but adore the sweet way Jihoon talks to you, always putting his poet background to good use. You smile as Jihoon holds you in his arms, but soon the good mood is ruined by the news you remember you have to break to him.

"What's wrong, my love?" Jihoon asks, seeing the fallen look on your face. He reaches up and pushes your hair out of your face, a habit he has picked up since you two met.

You just sigh and shift so you're out of Jihoon's embrace. Automatically you miss his strong arms around your waist, but you can't bear to look at him as you talk.

“My father has given me away to another man,” you tell him in a hushed voice.

“Who?” Jihoon responds automatically. “I won’t let him take you. I-I’ll fight.”

You finally turn towards Jihoon, the solemn look still firm on your face. “I’m betrothed to Prince Wonwoo.”

“Prince Wonwoo?!” Jihoon looks taken aback. You don’t blame him. Suddenly he deflates. “How am I going to beat that?”

You’re not sure how to respond. The truth is Jihoon can’t compete. That doesn’t mean you’re going to give up hope on him, though.

“We’ll…we’ll figure something out,” you finally say. You step closer to Jihoon, allowing him to wrap you up in his embrace once again.

“I’m not giving up on us,” Jihoon tells you, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“We’ll be fine. We have to be.”

When your father told you you’d be meeting with a royal advisor, this isn’t exactly what you were expecting.

When you arrived at the castle you were amazed at the size of it, but you weren’t allowed to gawk for long, being ushered into a sitting room where two men were already conversing. Neither were your soon to be husband though and you wondered when you might actually get to meet the prince.

The two men soon introduced themselves as Soonyoung and Mingyu, two of Prince Wonwoo’s most trusted men. Now two hours later, you’re starting to question the judgment of your betrothed.

Not only are the men completely scatterbrained and disorganized, they also seem to bicker more often than not, making it difficult for you to understand everything they’re telling you. The only thing you really comprehend is that you’re going to be spending a lot more time with the two men up until the wedding.

You’re given a schedule at the end of the day, your upcoming weeks all planned out for you already. Meeting with wedding coordinators, royalty training, garment fittings, and everything else of the like. You frown, thinking about your normally free schedule has now been filled.

Luckily for you, the meeting finished earlier than expected and you don’t hesitate to direct yourself towards the area where Jihoon’s caravan resides. Your lover is delighted to see you but before he can get any words out you’re throwing yourself at him, pulling him into a kiss. You’re desperate to drown in Jihoon and forget reality even just for a moment.

It isn’t until later that you and Jihoon finally exchange words.

“I can hear you thinking,” Jihoon says. You two lay next to each other on his bed, bare bodies pressed together under the linens. Your head rests on his chest and his hands card through your hair. “Was I not satisfactory in taking your thoughts away? What is troubling your mind so much?

“Prince Wonwoo.”

“You’re thinking about Prince Wonwoo after laying so intimately with me?”

“No! Well yes, but- I- shut up,” you grumble, smacking Jihoon’s chest, making his laugh.

You’ve never met the prince before, though you are well knowledged on him. It’s hard not to be when he is to take over the crown in a few years. You try not to think about how that will make you the queen consort.

You’ve only seen Prince Wonwoo in person a handful of times, none too recently, but you still know the prince is very handsome. Not as handsome as you find Jihoon, though you may be a bit biased. He’s also said to be kind, smart, level-headed, and well calculated. You suppose it could be worse.

“I met with his advisors today,” you tell Jihoon. “I guess it’s just all hitting me. This really is going to happen.”

“Hey, listen to me,” Jihoon moves so he can stare at you in the face, “no matter what happens, I will always love you. My heart is still yours.”

“And mine yours,” you tell him softly. “I love you Lee Jihoon. Never forget that.”

You don’t see Jihoon for a while. Your schedule is packed with futile meetings that take up your day and with the news of your engagement to the prince (who you have still yet to meet), there are guards outside of your estate at night.

You suppose you are fortunate that Mingyu and Soonyoung have grown on you in the past few weeks. Though you still think them foolish, you also have a fondness for the pair. You see why Prince Wonwoo puts his trust in them. You find yourself wanting to confide in them, though there is one thing that still remains a secret.

It isn’t until the night before your wedding that you see your love. You are able to lose your guards for a second and you make a beeline straight to Jihoon’s caravan. He’s still awake, sitting outside and staring up at the starry sky when you approach.

“My dear,” you call out to him. Jihoon looks away from the sky to meet your face, a look of surprise flashes over his face before they form into a soft smile.

“You know you really shouldn’t be out so late at night, it is not safe.”

“Well then, why don’t you help me find some shelter kind sir,” you tell him. Jihoon just grins and grabs your hand, pulling you into his home.

You two spent the night wrapped up in each other, exchanging soft kisses and even softer words. When the morning comes Jihoon is still asleep when you awake and while you’d love to give him a proper goodbye, you know you already pushed your luck enough spending the whole night out.

You quickly find a quill and some ink and you grab a piece of Jihoon’s writing parchment and scribble a quick note to him before slipping out the door. It’s only after the caravan is out of sight that you let your tears fall.

The first time you meet Prince Wonwoo is at the altar. Up close he’s even more handsome than you imagined, with soft facial features and kind eyes. You can’t help but still feel a bit disappointed, staring at the stranger in front of you as you recite your wedding vows.

The chapel where you are being wed is packed full of people, mostly nobility. Your attire is suffocating, despite being fitted for it thrice. Across from you, the prince keeps a neutral face and you wonder about his own involvement in this arrangement.

He’s dressed in a formal outfit fit for royalty. The colors pair with your own dressings and you wonder what you two look like from the outfit. A newly bonded couple who will eventually be ruling the whole country. Are you two a handsome, strong presenting couple? Or do you two look like two fools who have never met before?

You were surprised at the way the public took the news of the engagement. You were expecting backlash against the prince, but he is well loved by the public and they were all happy to see the young man finding a partner to settle down with before stepping up to the throne. Despite never having been seen together in public before today, there was a wide talk of your (fake) courtship and how you must be very lucky to have the prince hold your heart.

If only they knew that a lonely, penniless poet was the real caretaker of your love.

It isn’t until the words leave the officiant’s mouth that you realize you will have to kiss the prince. Not only to end the ceremony but for the public to see you two unite as one. You must look as taken aback as you feel because your now husband takes the initiative, stepping forward to close the distance between you two.

Wonwoo cups your face gingerly, his hands are cold and his fingers are boney. He stares at you for a moment, dark eyes gazing into your soul, before he finally leans in.

The moment his lips press against yours you want to jerk out of his hold. It feels wrong. Your lips don’t fit together nicely and there’s no warmth exchanged between you two. You’re both stiff and you note how Wonwoo’s lips aren't as full as Jihoon’s.

The kiss is over within seconds but the damage has been done and you can’t shake the dirty feeling that has grown under your skin. Wonwoo’s hand slides down your arm to clasp your fingers together. Another sign of unity for the public. You force a smile on your face, but the only thing you can think about is how your heart is miles away, in a small caravan on the edge of town.

My love,

I am not sure how you were able to convince the prince’s closest man to be a part of this, but I cannot say am I ungrateful for him. Though I do find him quite eccentric (and slightly obnoxious) I must give him my gratitude.

I miss you tremendously, but the past few letters you have sent me have been acting as bandages over my heart. I read them whenever I feel an ache of your absence, which is quite often.

It is unfortunate you find royal life boring. If I could, you know that I would sweep you off to the farthest lands where we would explore the area during the day and revel at night. I would show you the large world out there and we could experience new joys together.

How I long to have you lay by my side at night. To feel your soft, tender skin against my fingertips. It pains me to even think about it, but it would kill me not to.

I will never stop fighting for us.

Write back soon,

Your Jihoon

My darling,

I saw you today. I was taken quite off guard when I saw you riding in the carriage, next to Prince Wonwoo. I admit, you two make a handsome couple, but not more handsome than us.

It’s been so long since I’ve seen your beautiful face in person, that even seeing you with another man made my heart sing. I couldn’t pull my eyes from you, doing my best to soak in the sight of you because you were once again gone.

You looked quite winsome sitting in the carriage, but you did not look like you. Are you required to wear such extremities every day, or were you dressed for the occasion? Either way I cannot imagine the process of getting ready to be a swift one.

If I am being honest I do not find the purpose of such efforts. Does the prince not find your natural beauty fit to his standards? If so then off with him. Any person with eyes would be fortunate to gaze upon you. I know I was.

Seeing you has only made me yearn more for you. I know it has only been a few weeks since your matrimony to Prince Wonwoo, but to me it has been lifetimes. How I crave to feel your touch, to hear your voice, to kiss your lips.

I know that the idea is futile but I will never give up on you. No matter what, I am still yours. And I hope you are still mine. Even if I only see a glimpse of you once every decade, my heart will still burn for you.

Forever yours,

Your Jihoon

To my heart,

Though you are always in my thoughts, you have been overtaking my mind more often than not lately. Please do not think I am upset about this, it is quite the opposite, but I am afraid I have been missing you a great deal more than usual.

Maybe it is due to a conversation I had the other day. I was at a tavern, catching up with an old acquaintance who was in town, and you came up. Jeonghan questioned if there was a reason why I had settled here and wondered if it was ‘due to my heart’. I laughed and confirmed his suspicions.

We spent a deal of time after that talking about you. It felt liberating being able to speak of you to someone else. I must have rambled on for at least an hour before Jeonghan finally cut me off, telling me how lucky I must be to have someone like you in my life. I had no choice other than to agree with him.

Speaking about you and thinking about you has thrown me into a tumultuous frame of mind. It is quite shameful how often I get lost in fantasies of us and what I wish we could be. You have overtaken my mind, body, and soul. There is not a single night where I do not dream of you.

I hope our future king can see how fortunate he is to be married to you. I would kill thousands of men to be in his position. Your smile itself is worth more than every jewel on his crown. I know I am just waxing poetic at you, but that is my job.

I know we must stay apart, but please mourn the future we could have had for me. Please write back to me with every thought you have about our imaginary future, because even if I cannot have the real thing, my dreams will be enough for me.

Dream of me as well,

Your Jihoon

The life between you and your husband is…comfortable. You two talk, but not often and seldom about anything that is not shallow or mundane. You two sleep side by side at night but the last time you two touched each other was when you danced at your wedding and while his days are spent in meeting, yours are spent wandering the castle grounds and having tea with Soonyoung and Mingyu.

The only thing you find yourself looking forward to in your days anymore is the nightly lettering that you receive from Jihoon. It was only a week into the marriage when Soonyoung noticed how miserable you were. Without being able to hold it in anymore, you told the man about your lover and your heartbreak. It was then that Soonyoung suggested he help you out, acting as a carriage pigeon to deliver letters to and from Jihoon.

One night you are sitting at the desk in your shared chambers with Wonwoo, writing your letter for Jihoon, when Wonwoo speaks up. He is sitting on the bed across the room and his deep voice startles you, not used to talking to the man like this.

“Are you happy?” Wonwoo asks you bluntly, after calling out your name. You take only a moment to form an answer.

“I am content, my lord,” you tell him. Though you have stopped referring to the man as “Prince Wonwoo” in your mind, you cannot help but tack on the formal titles at the end of your sentences to the man.

“But you are not happy. Why?”

“Rest assured your highness, it is nothing you’ve done.”

“Does it have anything to do with the letters Soonyoung delivers to you each evening? The letters you are writing back right now?” You freeze in your seat. You were unaware he knew, but the prince is not ignorant. You suppose you couldn’t keep it a secret forever.

“I-”

“Do not mistake my curiosity for accusation. I’m aware this arrangement is not an ideal situation, and I would not be upset if there was another. I would not even be upset if you wish to be with him,” Wonwoo says.

His words trouble you. There is a benefit for both of you in the marriage, but his words imply he is not exactly happy with the arrangement either. The offer to let you leave him is strange though, and causes you to fault for a moment.

“I am not going to abandon you, sire,” you eventually respond. “I have made an obligation to you.”

“No, your father did. Though we are not well acquainted I still hold empathy and I do not want to be what is keeping you from your happiness. From your happy ending.”

“Either way my father’s word is say, so I will do what he asks of me. It is an honor to be wedded to a man of your status,” you tell him, trying to convince yourself more than anything.

“But that is all it is: status. What about love?”

You don’t answer. You sit there and stare down at the letter you are writing to Jihoon. You think about the wooden box hidden in the drawer that holds his letters.

“Please, I do not wish to cause you turmoil. If you want to go, I will not hold you back,” Wonwoo says.

You finally turn to look at your husband. “You are very kind-hearted, but I cannot accept that offer. I will not tarnish your reputation like that. Do you know the talk that would rise if they heard the soon-to-be king’s spouse up and left? What would your father do to mine? It is too risky.”

Wonwoo has a morose look on his face, like he knows you’re right. “Tell me about him,” he says, surprising you.

You hesitate. You should not talk of your lover to your husband. It is unorthodox and unbecoming. You look at Wonwoo’s curious face though, and you can’t help yourself.

“He’s a poet. I’ve never met someone who can use words the way he does. Even in things as simple as short letters or passing comments, he can make it sound like the most romantic sentence ever uttered,” you tell Wonwoo.

“Tell me more.”

“He has a kind soul, like you. He’s very exciting to be around. He used to travel the world, so I love to hear him regale the tales of his adventures. He likes to take me on our own little adventures as well. One time a traveling show came through a neighboring town and he got us tickets to go watch.”

“You love him greatly.” It is not a question. You just nod to Wonwoo. “You light up when you speak of him. In a way I’ve never seen before.”

You don’t know what to say to him, so you turn your back to him once more, resuming your letter to Jihoon.

You love Jihoon, everyday apart from him feels like you’re struggling to breathe, and under any other circumstance you wouldn’t have stopped at anything to be with him, but you are not under those circumstances. You fought your father, refusing the marriage, even telling him you loved someone else, but he did not listen. He told you this was the one thing he would put his foot down on.

You can’t blame him, how often does someone get the chance to marry a prince. The things this marriage is doing for your family is immeasurable and you cannot in good conscience leave them without a second thought. Not to mention the damage it would do to your family’s reputation, let alone Wonwoo’s. Your family would be shunned by the public and Wonwoo would be labeled a joke of a king.

Not to mention if it was ever discovered what really happened. What would happen if everyone found out why you left? You and Jihoon would surely be ostracized. Town piranhas in even towns in other kingdoms. Jihoon’s career as a poet would be over. You can’t imagine that being a happy life.

Not that you’re particularly happy right now either. You wish you didn’t overthink everything, or else you would have left the town even before you got married. You and Jihoon could be living in his caravan, just you two alone, safe and sound and happy.

It is too late for that though, and now you have to pay the consequences. Married to a man you know nothing about. A man who seems to be rooting for you despite the outcome. It makes you frown. Maybe your first step in figuring it all out is figuring out your husband first.

“Have you ever been in love, my lord?” You decide to ask Wonwoo one day while walking the castle’s grounds. As of recently you two have gotten closer, an interesting bond forming between you two, though most of your time is spent talking of Jihoon. Wonwoo never draws back on his suggestions that you follow your heart.

“Not in the way you are. I was very fond of someone a long time ago, but they loved someone else.” You frown at this news.

“Please excuse the crudeness of my words, sire, but then why do you put so much mind into my love? Do you not wish to be wed to someone?”

“I do,” Wonwoo answers after a moment of contemplation, “but I do not want to be the reason why true love is separated. You and your Jihoon, you are a story of fate. Who am I to get in the middle of it? The public likes me enough, I will be okay. No matter what, I will be okay, but will you?”

Your heart aches and yearns for Jihoon, and your husband is not making it easier. That may have been his goal though.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” You ask Wonwoo. You frown as you stand in front of him, your stomach in knots of worry.

Wonwoo just gives you a soft smile. “I am sure. If anything, I should be worrying about you. Do you have everything you need?”

“Yes. Both Soonyoung and I checked twice. You have ensured that everything will run perfectly.” You reach over and take your husband’s hands in yours, squeezing them tightly. “Thank you, Wonwoo. For everything.”

“Ah, it is the least I could do. Now, you have somewhere to be and I cannot keep you waiting any longer. Send me letters, okay?” With a final squeeze of your hands, Wonwoo lets you go. You smile at the man once more before turning away from him and not looking back.

You slip out of the castle through the servant’s doors and quickly make your way to the outskirts of the grounds. It reminds you of all those times you escaped your own house to meet Jihoon at the edge of the forest. The thought makes a grin grow on your face as you speed up your pace even more.

Just like all the previous times, when you get to the edge of the estate Jihoon is standing there waiting for you. You launch yourself into his arms, allowing him to pick you up and twirl you around. He’s giggling high pitched and gleeful as you two spin around in each other’s arms.

When Jihoon finally puts you down he doesn’t waste a moment and leans in to kiss you. You happily kiss him back, grabbing his face and holding him in place. You can feel a wet stream of tears run down your face, your heart bursting with joy as you reunite with your lover.

His lips are familiar against yours and you automatically feel at home. For the first time in months you can relax, finally back in Jihoon’s arms.

“It’s you,” Jihoon muttres when he finally pulls away. He brings his hands up to caress your face.

“It’s me, my love, it’s me,” you tell him back, tears still flowing freely.

“I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you more.” You lean in and press another quick kiss against Jihoon’s lips. “But we will never have to miss each other again.”

“I’m never letting you go,” Jihoon tells you, gripping you tighter. “Oh how much I love you.”

You giggle. “I love you more. Now come on, let’s get out of here.”

You grab Jihoon’s hand and pull him away from the grounds to where his caravan is waiting for you two. As you two travel further and further away from the town you feel your heart grow lighter and lighter, excited for the rest of your life of adventures with your love.

The next time you see Jihoon is nearly a week later. You and Soonyoung are once again getting boba when you spot the boy behind the counter, just like last time. When you and Soonyoung went and got boba a few days prior you noticed that the original Cute Cashier was working, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit of disappointment at him not being Jihoon.

As soon as you lay eyes on your Even Cuter Cashier, you quickly make a beeline into the shop, your desire for boba long gone.

Jihoon looks up when he hears the sound of the bell ringing and his eyes soften into a smile when he sees you entering through the threshold.

“You came back!”

“I did. It’s hard not to, with the amazing service I got last time,” you say. You casually browse the store as you talk to Jihoon, glancing at him every so often as you do.

“Well I’m glad that my plan to get you to come back succeeded.”

You giggle at Jihoon’s words as you stop in front of a stack of old photos. You flip through them, looking at all the memories they hold. Many of the photos depict different couples, all smiling brightly as they hold each other. The images put a smile on your own face.

“Find something good?” Jihoon asks and you jump a bit at the closeness of his voice. When you turn, you see the man standing by your side.

“Oh, yeah, just these photos! Aren’t they beautiful?” You tilt them a bit to show them off to Jihoon. “I think it’s so amazing that no matter how the world changes, love will always stay the same.”

“Huh, I guess you’re right. Love’s been around since the beginning of time.”

“The love these people were feeling in these photos is the same love we experience today. There really is nothing like it.”

You look back down at the photos. The one in your hand shows a woman clinging onto a man’s arm, her cheek pressed into his bicep as she smiles at the camera. The man himself is smiling as well, though he is smiling down at the woman, rather than the camera.

“They’re cute,” Jihoon mumbles, his own eyes transfixed on the photo.

“Yeah,” you say, “I wonder what’s their story.”

“Something happy, I hope,” Jihoon says before moving to walk back behind the counter. You grab a few more photos from the stack before following after him, placing them on the counter.

Jihoon smiles at you and starts to ring you up. You take a moment to stare at him, your eyes tracing over his fluffy hair and round face and kind smile. You don’t stop staring until Jihoon breaks your focus.

“What? Does my hair look stupid or something?” He grins lazily at you again and you feel your heartbeat quicken.

“Uh, n-no! It’s just…your smile is super familiar to me. Sorry, that may be weird.”

“No, no, it’s not. I guess I kinda felt the same thing the first time you came in,” Jihoon tells you. “Who knows, maybe we knew each other in a past life.”

You chuckle at Jihoon’s joke, but you don’t stop thinking about it for the rest of the day.

1951

War Against North Korea Rages On, No End in Sight

You frown at the heading, throwing the newspaper aside onto the counter. The news of the North Korean troops invading Seoul changed everyone’s lives, throwing the country into a state of chaos trying to keep them from completely overtaking all of South Korea. Now a year later, the war is still in full force and though you know it’s important to stay updated on what’s happening, you don’t bother with the news articles anymore. They always say more or less the same thing: the war continues on with more casualties and less hope of ending soon.

Your heart grows heavy with each day growing worse than the last. You wish there was more you could do to help the war efforts, but you’re stuck at home taking care of your sick father. He’s the only family you have left, after your mother’s death a few years ago. All of the money received from her passing has gone into your father, but since the start of the war prices have done nothing but skyrocket.

So you spend your days at home taking care of your father, and your nights in a factory working to earn an income. You don’t mind the work though, allowing your mind to focus on something that isn’t the war or your father.

The only other time you get a break, an actual real break, is on Saturdays. It’s the one day in the week you allow yourself to go out, spending the afternoon to yourself getting groceries and taking time to focus on yourself.

You go through the same routine, walking down to the port and spending a few minutes enjoying the waves lapping against the shore, the salty sea water scent filling the air as the summer breeze brushes up against your skin. After taking in the sight of the sea, you move further into town and down the street to the cemetery.

Every Saturday you visit your mother’s grave, sitting with her for a while as you update her on your life and the current events. Occasionally you will bring a book and read aloud. You find the time spent with her calming, her maternal love enveloping you and letting you rest, even for a small bit of time.

Afterwards you browse the shops in town (only looking, never buying) before heading to the market to finish your day off. You spend the money for the groceries to get you through the week before heading back home. You do your best to walk most places you go, not wanting to spend the fare for the trollies.

The streets are busy on the weekend and on your walk back to your house, someone bumps into you causing you to drop your bags, all of your freshly bought groceries tumbling to the ground. The person doesn’t even stop and you can’t bother chasing them too. You just sigh and bend down to pick up the now unusable goods.

You now have to turn around and go back into town to get more groceries. It will take a good chunk out of your funds, but not too much. Maybe you’ll pick up a few more shifts at the factory.

“Excuse me, are you okay?” As you’re thinking about how to make up the price of the ruined groceries, you miss the man who has walked up to you.

When you look up you see a beautiful man with a sweet round face and dark hair staring down at you. He’s dressed nicely in a suit and it takes you a moment to actually respond to him, too distracted by his good looks.

“Pardon?”

“I was asking if you were okay?” The man bends down to help you pick up the rest of the food spilled on the ground. “I saw that man bump into you and I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Oh! I’m fine, thank you.” You smile at him, appreciative of the kind gesture.

“But all of your groceries are now ruined. Allow me to buy you more.”

“Oh no! That’s not necessary,” you quickly tell the man. You don’t even know him and you would feel guilty allowing a man who didn’t even cause the casualty to pay for your groceries, especially with the state of the economy.

“I insist,” he says, standing and then helping you stand as well. “It’s the least I could do.”

“Sir it really-” Before you can even finish your sentence the man was walking away, back towards the town. You could just go back home, but then you’d be left with no groceries for the week so you begrudgingly follow him back to the market.

“Lee Jihoon, by the way,” he tells you as you two walk around the market, collecting what you need. You give him your name as well and he grins, a small spark igniting behind his eyes as he tells you how lovely your name is.

When you’re done regathering what you need you move to head to the register, but Jihoon stops you.

“This is all you’re getting? It’s barely enough for any proper meals. Please, add more. I won’t mind, I demand of it actually.” Jihoon then moves to add more to the basket and once again you have to follow along as Jihoon is the one carrying it.

You protest each time a new item is added but Jihoon keeps hushing you like you’re a life long friend rather than a stranger he met on the street no more than thirty minutes ago. By the time Jihoon is satisfied with what’s in your basket, it’s full to the top and you can’t remember the last time you’ve seen so much food in your life. Guilt eats away at you as you think about the money Jihoon is about to drop on you just because someone else made you drop your bags.

It isn’t until you’re checking out and Jihoon casually pulls out multiple banknotes without even a blink of an eye that you realize that not everyone lives like you and that just maybe Jihoon doesn’t mind paying so much because he has the money laying around to do so. Even back when your mother was alive and your father was able to work your family was still paying for everything with scraped up coins.

The sun is already low in the sky by the time you two exit the market and Jihoon stops you once more. “Allow my driver to take you back to your house.”

The sentence alone confirms your suspicions on Jihoon’s monetary status. To own a car is a luxury of its own, but to have a driver as well seals the deal.

You already can tell it’s impossible to turn Jihoon down so you just follow him back to his car. You wonder if his driver followed you after you two walked to the market. When you two get into the car you tell your address to the driver, trying not to get embarrassed at the thought of the nice car driving through your run down little neighborhood.

Jihoon’s driver just nods and starts up the car. The three of you sit in silence until the car pulls up to your house and you climb out. Jihoon does as well, helping carry your groceries to the door.

“It was nice meeting you,” Jihoon says. “If you ever need anything again, give me a call.” He holds out a small white card, his business card, to you. You take it and thank him once more before entering your house, your mind still lingering on the strange, rich man.

You don’t give Jihoon a call, but you don’t have to. You run into him again not even three days after your first interaction. It’s early in the morning and you’re heading back home after work when you hear your name called out. When you turn you see the man’s car rolling up next to you, his head poking out of the back seat window.

“What are you doing walking alone so early in the morning? The sun has barely started to rise.”

"I'm walking back home from work," you answer honestly.

Jihoon's face looks sour at this, like he couldn't imagine working so late at night. "If you have been working all night let me treat you to breakfast."

It's your turn to let your face screw up slightly. You know that Jihoon can afford to buy you breakfast, but you still don't want to feel indebted to him. Not to mention your father will be waking up soon and you'll need to make his breakfast as well. You tell Jihoon as much.

"Then I will buy breakfast for your father too," is his solution.

You're not sure why he keeps insisting on buying you things but you just sigh and climb into the car. Jihoon has a smug grin on his face as he tells his driver where to go.

A few minutes later the car pulls up in front of a diner and you and Jihoon enter. It's nothing extravagant, but still a treat for those with a tight budget.

The two of you sit in silence until a waitress comes and takes your order. Jihoon doesn't allow you to order for yourself, picking what he tells you are the most delicious and filling items. He orders for himself and then a third meal, asking the waitress to not cook it until she brings the check.

You note the way Jihoon has a nice presence to him, friendly and warm and inviting. The way his soft features are accentuated when he smiles, his round cheeks puffing up and his eyes squinting. You find him fascinating, but there's something more than that, something drawing you to him.

"So, where do you work that has you walking home at six in the morning?"

The question breaks the ice between you as you fall into a natural conversation, asking questions and trading answers. Your hesitations towards the man quickly ebb the more you talk.

You learn he's a highly successful businessman but the war has halted much of his work which has given him some much needed down time. Like you, he doesn't have many living family members and he's an altruistic man so much of his money is left unspent.

Before you know it both of your meals are finished and the waitress is bringing over the check and the packaged meal for your father. Just like at the market, Jihoon pulls out his banknotes and pays before escorting you back to his car.

When you arrive at your house a part of you feels disappointed that the morning with Jihoon is over. Now it's back to the real world.

You're halfway to your door when you suddenly turn back around. You don't know what causes you to say it before you can stop yourself you spit out, "Would you like to come in for a cup of tea? It's the last I could do after all of your kindness."

Jihoon beams in front of you. "I would love that."

Bloodiest Battles of the War So Far, Conscription Soon to Follow?

Five months after you meet Jihoon he knocks on your front door, a letter clutched in his fist. There's a grim look on his face when you open the door and you know automatically.

The Battle of Bloody Ridge, follwoed by The Battle of Heartbreak Ridge, took out many of the soldiers on the frontlines and the country was now desperate to find new ones to replace them. A mandatory conscription for any young man who was eligible to join the military.

It didn't take long for you and Jihoon to start a relationship after your first few meetings. He's the perfect man, taking care of both you and your father and showering you in nothing but love and affection. The thought of him so far away, in the direct line of danger, makes a lump grow in your throat. Your chest tightens as your heart aches.

"We'll be okay," Jihoon mutters into your hair as you cry silently into his neck, holding him tightly. Like if you hold him tight enough he won't have to leave.

That's not how the world works though, and you accompany Jihoon on the day he is to deploy.

"If you need more money just send me a letter and I'll take care of it, okay?"

"You've left me with plenty already, love," you tell him as you fix his jacket collar. "Just come home safe."

"As long as you make sure I have something to come home to."

You can already feel the tears welling up in your eyes and you lean forward to press your lips to Jihoon's. He kisses you back, putting all of his love into it. A promise to you, that you will see him again, that this isn't your last kiss.

With one last squeeze of the hand Jihoon boards the bus and you're left alone, a heaviness in your heart and worry forming under your skin.

You just have to keep telling yourself he'll be okay, he has to be.

December 19, 1951

To the one my heart has gone to,

I hope you don't mind the frequency of my letters, I just feel closer to you know that eventually you'll hold the same paper in your fingers. I miss you tremendously, to the point my heart aches thinking of you.

Do you know that when you send your letters they smell of you? I always keep your most recent ones safe, in hopes to preserve the smell for just a little while longer.

There's not much to report about today, which I suppose is a good thing. Better than something hectic or even worse, a battle.

Unfortunately it still doesn't look like there will be a break anytime soon. Battle after battle, life after life. It's not easy, but I've come to like the other men in my unit. Jeonghan takes good of us and Seokmin makes nice company.

I don't want to keep you long, but I wanted to make sure you'd get a letter for before the holidays hit. Merry Christmas my love.

I'll make it up to you when I get home okay? For now just keep me in your dreams.

Write back soon, please. I want to hear what my lover has been up to. Keep me updated on your father as well.

All my love,

Your Jihoon

March 22, 1952

Today was hard.

I'm doing unwell as I write this letter, but it would pain me more not to send you my update.

Kwon Soonyoung died next to me today on the battlefield. It is not the first time a man has died near me, but it is the first time it was a man I have grown fond of. He was only a few months older than I am.

As grim as it may sound, and as much as I will mourn the loss, I am grateful that it was not me in his place. It was a difference of mere inches and fate chose Soonyoung. Does it mean anything? Is there a reason why I lived and he didn’t? I’m not sure but all I can think about is that his sacrifice is giving me a second chance at going home. Does that make me a bad person?

Everyday I pray this nightmare will be over. The thought of you is the only thing encouraging me to go on. I think about coming home to you, kissing your sweet lips, holding you in my arms.

We’ve been apart longer than we were together and I beat myself up for that everyday. I wish we would have met earlier, but as soon as the war is over we will have all the time in the world. Just you and me.

Wish me home soon,

Your Jihoon

November 30, 1952

To the home of my heart,

You have been on my mind all of today, not that you aren’t always on my mind normally. It has been particularly hard today though. It’s been a full year since my departure from you and every day has been harder than the last.

It’s hard to sleep at night and I often lay awake and think about you. Sometimes I will take a walk and look up at the sky. The moon and the stars are thousands of miles away but they still seem so close and bring so much comfort. That’s how I feel about you. Gazing at the moon also helps because it is still the same moon that you are under as well.

Look at the moon and think of me okay? Maybe one night we will be looking at the moon at the same time and I will be able to feel you just a bit closer.

Whenever I am able to fall asleep, I dream about you. I dream about the thought of you laying next to me. I wish to kiss your soft lips and feel your warm skin and look into your shining eyes. I dream of the life we will build together when we are reunited at last.

Would you marry me, my love?

I know it’s silly asking over a letter like this, and asking with such a strange courtship, but something in me feels the need to ask. Ever since I met you on the street that one fateful day, I’ve known you were the one for me. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, so please accept my proposal (I promise to give you a proper one the second I get home).

The other men keep teasing me about you, but they just don’t understand the love we share. Being with you, even just the thought of you, it feels like home.

A part of me wonders if I’ve secretly loved you my whole life. It sure feels like it. No matter what I know you were made for me and everyday I bless whatever force brought us together. I love you so much it drives me crazy.

When I get home let me take you out on a thousand dates to make up for the time lost.

Please send me your answer soon,

Your fiance Jihoon

February 01, 1953

To my dearest,

I’m writing to you from the infirmary. I was shot in battle earlier, nowhere too fatal just the leg, but I just woke up from the procedure to remove the bullet and patch me up. I’m lucky to come out with nothing more than a scar. Some other men aren’t as lucky.

It seems everyday is a new fight, but it’s worth it if it gives me a chance of going back home to you. We’ll buy a house close to the port, so you can be near the ocean breeze. Every night we’ll walk the shore and watch the sunset together. Then on Saturdays I’ll accompany you on your errands. We’ll go to town together and get groceries and visit the cafe and do whatever your heart desires.

I’ll buy fresh flowers for your parents every week.

We could get a cat to keep you company while I’m at work and you could quit that heinous job at the factory. That would give you more time to focus on yourself. You and I both know that my wealth is more than enough for just the two of us.

Our house shouldn’t be too big, but still a good size in case we ever have guests over. I think we should start a garden as well.

Ah, my love, thinking about our future is nice. It helps me wish for the future, helps me feel closer to you. Thank you for being my safe place away from this nightmare. I should rest more now, but please remember that I will always spend everyday loving you.

Pray for my speedy recovery,

Your Jihoon

July 07, 1953

Jagiya! I apologize for the lack of letters recently, things have been so hectic around here, but I write with good news!

The talk around camp is that the negotiations have been making a move, there is finally an end in sight. I cannot wait to get back to you. It has been far too long since I’ve seen you and the photo I carry of you has started to fade already from how often I admire it.

I cannot stay to write for long, but I needed to send you an update and a reminder of my love. I promise we will be back together soon.

Go to town and buy some flowers for yourself okay? Today is worth celebrating.

I can’t wait to see you,

Your Jihoon

You’re jittery as you smooth down your shirt, waiting for the bus to pull up. The same bus that took him away nearly two years ago.

When all of your friends heard about your beau, they all called you crazy. Holding out for a man who has been gone for quadruple the amount of time you spent together and you guess maybe it is crazy, but for Jihoon you would do anything.

It is true that you two were only together for five months before his deployment, but even before he left you knew you were madly in love with Lee Jihoon. You spent your nights reading the letters Jihoon sent you, and writing ones back. You would think you two had been lovers for fifty years rather than five months.

You’ve always felt the pull towards Jihoon though, like you’ve been loving him all your life. Every letter he sent made you fall in love with him even more, and now two years later he’s finally coming home.

The days were hard without him when you saw him nearly everyday before he left. Winter of 1952 was less than kind, taking your father with it and leaving you alone for the last seven months, wishing for nothing but for Jihoon to come home. Now he is and you couldn’t be more elated.

The people standing around you start to cheer when someone catches sight of the bus, but you can’t do anything but stand there, your heart pounding in your chest. When the bus stops and soldiers start to pour out you have a moment of doubt. The fear that Jihoon won’t want you anymore, that everything has changed for the worse, creeps into your mind.

The thoughts can barely form though because then Jihoon’s stepping off the bus and his skin is so much tanner than it used to be and you’ve never seen him with his hair so short but it’s Jihoon, your Jihoon. His eyes light up when he catches sight of your familiar face and he’s dropping his bags and running towards you.

His arms are locked around your waist and you’re being lifted off the ground. You cup Jihoon’s face in your hands and lean down to kiss him as he spins you two around, easing all of the worries in your mind. Your cheeks dampen as tears start to stream down your face, too many emotions coursing through you to keep them all on the inside.

You keep your hands on Jihoon’s face as he sets you down. You stroke his cheek, feeling his warm skin under your touch. “You’re here, you’re really here.”

“I’m here my love, I’m here, and I’m never leaving you again.”

It doesn’t take much longer for you and Jihoon to leave the station. You two sit in the back of his car, pressed together as Jihoon presses kisses to your face every few minutes. You’re not much better though, leaning into him with a dopey grin on your face, ready to start your new life with the man you love the most.

The next time you see Jihoon isn’t at the antique shop at all. You’re getting coffee at the cafe next to your apartment when you see the man walk in. His eyes light up a bit when he sees you and he makes a beeline to your table after getting his drink.

“Is this seat open?” He asks, pointing to the empty chair across from you.

“Of course.”

Jihoon takes a seat before turning his attention to you. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Maybe it’s fate,” you say teasingly but Jihoon just grins.

“Maybe it is,” his voice is smooth as he talks, and your breath gets caught in your throat, “I mean, I wouldn’t be upset if I was destined to meet you over and over again.”

You break his gaze, trying not to show him how flustered you are. “You’re quite the sweet talker you know? You don’t know anything about me-”

“No, but I don’t think it would be hard to learn. I’m starting to think we’re not really strangers at all. You can’t tell me that you aren’t a bit interested in me as well.”

You glance back at Jihoon to find him staring intently at him. His eyes are warm and deep and you can feel yourself being drawn in, like you’ve stared at those eyes a million times before. There’s an inviting sense to all of Jihoon and the only thing you can think of to describe it as is home.

“Okay,” you tell him with a slight grin. “Let’s see if destiny is right.”

And really you don’t care if it is fate or not, because as you and Jihoon fall into a comfortable conversation you realize that the two of you meeting was no mistake, and that you could definitely love Lee Jihoon for multiple lifetimes.

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