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starbandit · 1 year

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Keepin’ Secrets (Choi Beomgyu)

Preview -The voice on the other side of the room made your heart stop, the world moving in slow motion. Your hands flew to the blanket, attempting to find some sort of coverage for your exposed body. “Don’t get shy now,” Beomgyu stepped deeper into the room.

Contains - brothers best friend!beomgyu, slight corruption kink, teasing, ruined orgasm, masturbation, its implied that beomgyu is older than the reader, nonidol!au, some nipple play, unprotected sex 18+ MDI !!

word count - 3.4k/unedited

You sighed and checked your phone once again. School had gotten out over an hour ago and you were still waiting for your brother to pick you up. Countless text messages and phone calls, even one to your mom who was unfortunately out of town and unable to do anything other than what you had already tried. You could hear distant thunder, dark clouds rolling in as the sun was beginning to set.

“What the fuck dude?” You groaned as the call went to voicemail, once again. “Y/B/N I hope you listen to this voicemail and feel bad about leaving your only sibling out in the rain!” You hung up the call and tightened the straps on your bag. You pulled your hood up, hoping that it might save you some discomfort as you began the walk home in the light rain.

The light rain soon turned into a downpour, soaking you down to your underwear. Your jeans stuck to your legs, the fabric clinging to the skin in the most nauseating way. A nice, hot shower was definitely in your future.

A long, uncomfortable walk later and you were finally at your front door. Your brother's car, the one you two were supposed to share, was parked outside in the driveway. You busted through the front door, cheeks and ears hot with rage. You threw your sopping wet backpack to the ground next to the pile of shoes in the entrance and stared your brother down from where he was sat on the couch.

“Damn, what the fuck happened to you?” He stifled a laugh.

“What happened to me?” You asked angrily, kicking your shoes off. You peeled your socks off and they hit the floor with a loud ‘plop!’. “What happened to me? You were supposed to pick me up from school, oh I don’t know, two hours ago? And instead you left me, outside, in the middle of a thunderstorm!”

“Ah, shit, I forgot.” Your brother shrugged. “I’m ordering pizza for dinner, you can pick the place.” He offered.

“You better let me pick the goddamn place.” You grumbled as you started up the stairs.

“Gyu’s here by the way!”

Of course. Was there ever a Friday that he wasn’t here? You couldn’t remember the last weekend your family had without Beomgyu tagging along. Family photos? Beomgyu. Celebration dinner? Beomgyu. Grandpa’s funeral? Fucking Beomgyu. Doesn’t he have his own family?

You couldn’t be mad at him though, not with his stupid smile and his stupid jokes. The way he would occasionally ruffle your hair while you did homework at the kitchen table. When he would show up to your school events earlier than your brother and give you a thumbs up from his spot in the audience. It made your heart flutter in the most confusing way.

You shut the bathroom door behind you, clicking the lock as you turned and sighed in the mirror. The rain had tangled your hair, the strands falling in front of your face in a tangled, wavy mess. You turned the shower on and stripped, peeling the itchy clothes from your skin.

Stepping into the hot water nearly made you moan. The water washed away all the stress from school, all the nasty rain water, and relaxed the muscles you didn’t even know were tight. You let your eyes flutter shut and tried to just enjoy the hot water as it washed everything down the drain.

Your mind began to wander the longer your eyes were closed. You ran your hands over your body, down your neck, across your chest, over the soft curves of your waist and hips. You couldn’t help but think of your brother's best friend, images of Beomgyu flashed behind your closed eyelids. Was this weird? Maybe. Was he cute though? Yes. No one had to know about your guilty pleasure.

You bit your lip as your hand trailed down, dipping into the growing wetness between your legs. You let a small smile paint your face, a little whimper slipped past your lips.

“Y/N?” A loud knock made you jump. “Hey, I gotta pee! No rush but I don’t wanna piss my pants!” Beomgyu’s voice echoed from outside the door.

And, the fantasy was over. You sighed. “Ok! Give me five minutes!”

“All yours.” You opened the bathroom door, steam escaping with you. Beomgyu was stood in the hall, playing on his phone.

“Thank you!” He quickly shuffled past, slamming the bathroom door behind him. You made your way to your bedroom and dropped your towel as soon as the door shut behind you. Time for pajamas.

A few hours passed before you heard a knock on your door. “Come in!” You called out, not bothering to move from where you had cozied up in your bed. Beomgyu stepped in, holding a pizza box and a liter of soda.

“Delivery, m’lady.” He placed the pizza box on your bed and the soda on the nightstand. “Enjoy your gourmet meal, courtesy of Buddy’s Pizza.”

You laughed and sat up in the pile of pillows you had nestled into. “Thanks, Gyu.”

“No problem, Y/N.” He turned on his heel, eyes catching the movie that was playing on your TV. “What’re you watching? Who is she?” He questioned, stood almost completely in front of your view of the screen.

“Gyu, I would love to tell you but unfortunately you make a better door than a window and I cannot see a single fucking thing with you standing there.” You pulled a slice of pizza out of the box and began to eat.

“Oh fuck, sorry.” He scootched to the side, settling into the desk chair next to your bed. “So why is she yelling at that old lady? What happened?” He reached over, feeling over your blanket before sneaking a hand into the pizza box.

“Dude, paws off!” You smacked his wrist and he retreated, rubbing the red mark. “The old lady framed her and it caused her to lose the love of her life. It’s nearing the end of the movie though.” Your conversation was cut short with a scream for Beomgyu to come back downstairs.

“Ah, heated Mario Kart match.” Beomgyu snapped out of his trance. “Lemme know how this ends though, I gotta go beat Y/B/N’s ass in Mario Kart.” He walked out, not before taking one more glance at the TV, and shut the door softly behind him.

You were almost positive Beomgyu wasn’t interested in the movie at all, but the small amount of interest he showed you made your cheeks heat up and tummy do cartwheels.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but when you wake up the sun is shining through the window and the pizza box has fallen to the floor. You groaned and shoved your head into your pillow, wishing for just five more minutes of sleep. The sleep never comes and instead you find yourself trudging down the stairs to the kitchen.

“Go wake up Gyu for me.” Your brother demanded the second he saw you. The kitchen was trashed with pancake batter and eggshells. You rolled your eyes and stole a banana slice off the plate he was setting.

“He’s your friend, why should I do it?” You questioned.

“Because I’m older and mom left me in charge.” He retorted, replacing the stolen banana. “And I’ve slaved away in this kitchen to make you breakfast.”

You huffed and turned around, mumbling underneath your breath as you made your way back up the stairs and into your brother's room.

Sure enough, Beomgyu was still asleep, sprawled out on the makeshift bed of blankets and pillows. He’s dressed in a pair of flannel pajama pants and a white t-shirt. His shirt has ridden up just enough to give you a little peak of his stomach, a light trail of hair leading from his belly button down the waistband of his pants. Your heart began to race a little at the exposed skin.

You snapped out of your thoughts and decided to wake him. You could only imagine the teasing that would happen if he, or god forbid your brother, found you staring at him while he was asleep. You gently nudged him with your foot, giving him a few soft kicks in the side to wake him up.

His face scrunched up slightly and he stretched before opening his eyes. A whine left his mouth as he stretched again and sat up. “Mornin’.”

“Good morning, Y/B/N made breakfast so you better get downstairs before he inhales all of it.” You turned to leave, not wanting your mind to continue to race.

The day went by fast, your brother had taken Beomgyu somewhere, you didn’t catch all the details, just enough to know they would be back that night. You decided to have a lazy day, relax with a face mask, maybe a nice shower.

It was starting to get dark when you collapsed into bed. Home alone, no interruptions. You sighed and kicked your pajama shorts off, letting them fall to the floor. The butterflies in your tummy made you wet, and you couldn’t wait to begin. You trailed your hand down, fingers quickly finding the bundle of nerves seated between your legs.

The image of Beomgyu in his pajamas was still fresh in your mind. The soft, tanned skin, the light trail of hair that dipped below his waistband, the imprint of his cock in those stupid flannel pants. You pretended you didn’t see it, the half-hard morning wood he was sporting at breakfast but you couldn’t help but think about what it would feel like in your hand, mouth, just touching you.

You let out a little whimper and sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, biting down to muffle your sounds. You had found the perfect balance of pressure and speed. The heat in your lower belly was growing and your heart was racing, so loud you could hear it in your ears. Your face grew hotter and hotter as time went on, sweat beading at your hairline.

“A-ah..” You whined, moving feverishly in an attempt to get closer to release. “B-beomgyu,” You whimpered. That was a first, moaning your brother's best friend's name. It felt too good to moan though. His name rolled so easily off your tongue.

“Yes?”

The voice on the other side of the room made your heart stop, the world moving in slow motion. Your hands flew to the blanket, attempting to find some sort of coverage for your exposed body.

“Don’t get shy now,” Beomgyu stepped deeper into the room. Your eyes scan his body. Was this a dream? No, no, was this a nightmare? He’s stood at the edge of your bed, eyes glazed over slightly, supporting a tent in his pants. “I know you were thinking about me, Y/N. Why don’t you continue? Or would you rather have me do the work?”

You couldn’t believe your ears. “Y-you.” Your hands are shaking as Beomgyu gently peels the blanket off your lower half, once again exposing you. “Where’s Y/B/N?” It would only be a matter of time before he was calling for Beomgyu, or worse, came looking for you two.

“Picking up dinner on the other side of town, we have time.” He crawled onto the bed, hands settling on your thighs. He squeezed the soft flesh, biting his lip as he did so. “Want me to touch you?” He questioned. His hands trailed up, fingers gently teasing the crease of your hip.

“P-please.” You nodded. Beomgyu smiled and pressed his hands down, spreading your legs for him. You could feel your ears heat up, both from embarrassment and from how turned on you were.

“Look at you, so wet.” He gently trailed his fingers over your lips, almost tickling you. “And all for me.” He took two fingers and gently spread you open, admiring the beauty.

“Gyu, please.” You begged. You wanted him to at least touch you, just once, before your brother got back and ruined whatever you had. “Please, touch me. That's all I want.”

Beomgyu smirked before sinking two fingers into you with little warning. His thumb came to rest on your clit, rubbing just enough to give you a little bit of friction. “Is this what you wanted?”

“More, please.” You choke out, a moan slipping from your throat.

“More?” He questions. “More of this?” He wiggled his fingers, hitting the right angle that made your legs feel like jelly. “Or this?” His thumb pressed slightly harder, and began making small circles.

“Both!” Your head fell back and hit the pillows. Your hips lifted off the bed slightly, trying to find a new angle that felt even better. You found yourself questioning if this was real life. With Beomgyu touching you, it didn’t take long for the heat to return to your lower belly. Your legs were beginning to shake, heat filling up your pussy. A strangled whimper left your lips and your eyes squeezed shut.

And then it stopped. No more fingers, even the heat of Beomgyu’s body was gone. You opened your eyes and turned your head to the side. He was kneeling on the ground, eye level with you.

“Couldn’t let the fun end so soon.” He whispered. He brought his hand to his mouth and wrapped his lips around the fingers that had just been inside of you. He moaned around them, eyes rolling back slightly. He pulled off his fingers with a ‘pop’ and tangled his hand in your hair. “I was going to eat you out, but figured we should save something for next time.”

Next time? You nodded. His fingers tightened in your hair, pulling you closer, until you could feel his breath on your face. “Shall we keep going, Y/N? Or should I make you wait?”

“Keep going, please.” You whined. You leaned in, hoping to catch his lips. He smiled and obliged, tongue almost instantly leaving to explore your mouth. He was minty and his tongue tasted slightly like you. You gasped as he pulled away from the kiss, tugging on your bottom lip as he did.

He stood up and quickly unbuttoned his pants, letting the jeans hit the floor. He stepped out and kicked them away before returning to his spot next to your head. His cock was straining against the tight fabric of his boxers and there was a damp spot growing next to the head. You found yourself staring up at him, waiting for him to tell you what to do.

“Go ahead, touch me.” Your hands shook as you reached over, fingers dipping into the waistband of his boxers. You gently pulled his boxers down, giggling nervously as they got caught on his hard cock. It sprang free, glistening at the tip. He shimmied his underwear the rest of the way off and let out a little gasp as you traced a finger over the tip.

You continued to touch him, running your fingers along his shaft, trailing the wetness from his tip all over. You wrapped your hand around the base and began moving your hand, slowly, waiting for Beomgyu to say something.

Beomgyu watched you for a few seconds, enjoying the slight relief from your hands. “Why don’t you use your mouth a little, baby?”

The pet name sent butterflies straight to your stomach. You propped yourself up a bit and wiggled into position, ready to take Beomgyu into your mouth. You leaned forward, allowing the tip to rest on your tongue. The weight felt nice in your mouth and his tip dripped some slightly salty precum onto your tongue. The taste made your mouth water and you closed your lips around him, sucking to create slight pressure.

Beomgyu hummed and tangled his hands in your hair once again, pulling the loose strands from your eyes. “So pretty.” His hips twitched forward, forcing more of his length into your mouth. He watched as your eyes welled up with tears slightly and you swallowed around his cock.

Beomgyu tried to stay still for you, allowing you to set the pace for a little while, before he took over. His hands guided your head up and down his cock, drool trickling down your chin. He triggered your gag reflex a few times before he finally pulled out.

“Lay down.” He gently pushed your shoulder, causing you to fall back onto the pillows. “I’m gonna make you feel good. Fuck you so good you won’t be able to sit.” He wedged himself between your legs and dipped his head down. His lips made contact with your neck and you tilted your head back in an attempt to give him more access. His wet tongue licked the sensitive skin and the feeling of his breath on the wet patch caused a shiver to roll down your spine. His hips pressed against yours, grinding slowly as he sucked red marks onto your exposed skin.

You wrapped your arms around him, fingers digging into his back through his t-shirt. He pulled away from your neck and met you with a crushing kiss. His soft lips slid against yours, leading you in the best way. He slid his tongue into your mouth, licking all around. You didn’t even register he had pushed into you until he bottomed out and you moaned at the fullness.

Beomgyu gave you little to no time to adjust, instead starting out with soft thrusts that made you whine with each jolt. The headboard of your bed banged lightly against the wall with each thrust and the box spring squeaked loudly in return. He set a fast pace, hands moving to grip your thighs to keep you from sliding away from him.

You couldn’t help but moan loudly, each thrust pushed a new sound out of you. Beomgyu growled from his spot above you. The sounds you were producing only made him want to go harder, faster. The look on your face made him proud, how your eyes were slightly closed, mouth agape. He groaned loudly as you wrapped your hand around his arm in an attempt to ground yourself.

Neither of you were going to last long. You whined as Beomgyu began to get sloppy with his thrusts, still moving at a pace that caused the bed to creak. His hands snuck up your shirt, warm against your clammy skin, and he tweaked the hardened buds of your nipples. You moaned, pushing against him some more. His fingers ran over your nipples again and you were done for. Your eyes rolled back and the heat in your stomach released.

Beomgyu whimpered at the feeling of you pulsing around his cock. His hips stuttered forward and he buried his head in your neck, releasing a loud whimper as his orgasm followed yours. His hips twitched forward a few times, milking both of your orgasms. You wrapped your arms around him and hugged your sweaty bodies close together. He let out a little whimper as you clenched around him one last time.

After a few moments, he finally found the strength to sit up. “I’m gonna pull out now, ok?” He waited for you to nod in response and quickly pulled out, whispering an apology as you hissed. He quickly grabbed his discarded underwear and shoved them under your hips, catching any cum and wetness before it completely destroyed your sheets. You would have to thank him later.

“I’mma go grab some water and tissue, I’ll be right back.” He gave your forehead a gentle kiss before rushing out of the room.

You sat there, Beomgyu’s now soiled underwear under your butt. You could still feel the cum dripping down your leg. Your room was hot and stuffy. You couldn’t even begin to comprehend what had just happened, or how your brother would react if he found out.

Beomgyu returned with a washcloth and some cold water. He had redressed himself, a fresh t-shirt and his pajama pants now covered his body. He handed you a bottle of water and made quick work of gently wiping you down. He placed soft kisses on your thighs as he cleaned you up and tossed the washcloth in your hamper once he was done. He went through your drawers and found you some fresh pajamas, even helped you get into them. Lastly, he cracked your bedroom window, allowing the cool air to flush out the heavy air that filled your room.

“Our little secret, yeah?”

You nodded from your spot on the side of your bed. “Same time next weekend?”

Beomgyu smiled. “You got it, baby.”

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jayden-killer · 1 year

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Bonita.

Paring: jake lockley × fem! Reader.

Genre: smut to Angst to fluffy

Warnings: sex, dom!jake, sub!reader, p in v with no protection, use of safe word, panic attack, low self-esteem, reader being insecure about herself, jake being so lovely with reader.

A/N: It's a bit rushed at the end, but i couldn't think of a better ending lmao

~°~

Hot hands rambled on my body as I was merciless fucked by my boyfriend, Jake. He had no mercy when it came to sex, an animal caging his prey with his strong arms. It felt so good, his cock buring inside of me, sliding in so easily thanks to my wetness. He was so big I could see the bluge forming on my lower belly. That could have been the sexiest thing I've ever seen. I could hear thunders outside, rain droples hitting the window outside.

–Jake, Jake, please...– I managed to say in tiny whispers, his hand now moving to grab my neck, lightly squeezing it. He didn't apply so pressure at all, just to keep my mind altered. His other hand squeezed my hip, with such force, to keep my body glued to his, his chest pressed against mine. He was forcing me to take every inch of him.

–What is it that you want, cariño, mh? I thought you were finally shutting up.

–I need to c-cum, please Jake, I can't..!–

–Now, you should take a look at yourself, you're so beautiful like this, preciosa– I could see him smirking, making it me difficult to keep my composure even if I was being fucked so good at that moment. He moved a piece of hair from my face and stopped. My chest panted, trying to make my lungs gain air. I thought he was done until he slapped me lightly on my tight.

–Turn around, I want to fuck you in front of the mirror–

He gave no time to me to change position, manhandling me with little force. He let my back press against his chest now. He panted into my ear and positioned his tip on my lips again, sliding in one more time with no obstacles. This position allowed me to see Jake's movements better.

Slap, slap, slap.

Skin to skin. We were so sweaty, but that was so worthy of the moment. His well-brushed hair now sticking to his forehead, his well-toned chest glistening in sweat, his eyes filled with lust...that was driving me crazy.

–....so pretty, I can't control myself, mierda, que chiquita tan obediente, tan linda– It seemed Jake was more talking to himself in mutterings than to me I couldn't process entirely what he was saying, but he didn't stop. The more he fucked me with force, the more he rambled.

–I love you, so pretty, never letting you go, never, s-so fragile, my doll, my girl, my sweet girl...–

I never stopped to look into the mirror, Jake's eyes eating me as If I was the best dessert served. But, those phrases. Panic begin to settle into my mind: was that just nonsense? What If he loves me just for sex? Does he love me? Does he find me pretty and all of that stuff?

What if..

Does he..

He can't be serious.

He doesn't love me.

He doesn't.

I'm a mess. He can't love a mess like me.

A utter piece of shit.

I'm so useless.

Oxygen seemed to leave my body as soon as I was thinking all that stuff. I could sense the tension being to rise, and my mind started to be foggy. Dwelling on my fake thoughts.. even my head was spinning lightly.

–Jake, Jake...– I called him, but no response. He was losing himself in the sex. Then, again.

–Jake, please, s-stop..–

He kept fucking me. I couldn't do this. He was going to hate me if I had stopped the sex. Panicking more, I let the safe word slip out of my lips, in a whisper-shout, and Jake immediately pulled out, he hugging my body.

–Preciosa, que pasa? Que te pasa?–

Tears streamed out, and I knew it was impossible to stop tears, and Jake knew I was having a panic attack. I remember the moment I warned him about my anxiety disorder, which sometimes carried panic attacks and anxiety. He knew what he was dealing with, and told me that Steven was suffering from it, too, and that he would handle the situation the better he could. Jake gently took my body, now facing me and caressed my head.

–Princesa, calm down, breathe slowly, okay?–his hand cupped my cheek. My teary eyes looked into his. He seemed so calm... how could he do that? Was he pretending to be calm?

Worse, was he pretending to genuinely care about me?

–Bebè, i got you, okay? Breathe slowly. Follow me, take baby steps. One step at once–

He let my hand lightly touch his chest, allowing me to feel his heartbeat. Has he said slowly? I need to breathe slowly, or else...

My mind was still spinning and panicking, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I was so scared that even what Jake asked for seemed like a complicated task. But I tried. I needed to try for him. So I breathed in, and out. In and out. In and...-

–ya pas��, tranquila

My eyes landed on his and I was met with warmth. He helped me sit on the edge of the bed, placing soft hands on my back, and rubbing it in gentle circles. He didn't back away, never. He was always there to help me, to listen to me. Sometimes I wondered how I'd managed to date a soul like him. It felt too much like a fever dream than reality. So Jake asked me what happened, if he triggered me with something, and I took deep breaths again, before actually explaining the episode.

–It was not you. Of course, Jake, it is never you, you make my heart flutter every time–I say in chuckles, -I hate to admit it, but it is strange to feel..good-

I felt Jake's eyes soften more at my words. He made a sign, as to say "keep going".

–Sometimes my mind thinks its not okay to deserve actual love from someone else. And destroys me with little thoights which grow more, and more in..something explosive– A sigh escapes my lips and I rub my eyes in exasperation. Jake's quick to grab my chin and make him look to me.

–Bebè, I know what you're saying. And I know what you are feeling.- He pauses, adjusting himself on the edge of the bed, sitting closer to me, now grabbing my hand and placing it on his tight-You don't have to say that, please. I don't know what you've been through, but I sure know a thing- His tone is sad, and worried, even though there's no lack of confidence in what he says.

–First, I love you. You're incredible in all ways. You're good-natured, kind, empathic, reliable..and I can go on!– A chuckle escapes his lips. He never fails to amaze me. -I must admit, when you first kissed me, I was the one to think that I didn't deserve your love. But you made me think that again-

I nod at his words, smiling. –Whoever put those shit of thoughts in your head– he gently placed a finger on my forehead –I'll remove them with my own hands!

–You know it can't be truly possible, right?– I ask, chuckling

–You want me to die! Like, disassembling my brain, like the doctor in Mary Shelley's Frankenstein–

–So? It's going to be fun!– His hands find my sides and Jake starts to tickle me in fast and hard, and I have no choice but to let out bursts of laughs.

–I surrend! I surrend! Let me go!- I loudly laugh, but the smirk on Jake's face says otherwise.

–Only if you promise to let me cook you my special dish and let me treat you like a queen deserves-

I frantically nod and his tickles chase down, letting me regain my breath and sit one more time on the bed. He chuckles at the sight, and his eyes seem to soften once more. The next thing he does is hug me, tight and close to him. I can hear his heartbeat. Fast. So fast.

–Promise me you'll talk to me whenever you're feeling down. Do you understand? You don't have to face it alone. I'll do everything to make you understand you deserve it–

A pause.

–You deserve the love–

And I promised him, I would reach out for his help. For me.

For us.

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ivanttakethis · 16 days

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Round 7

Till doesn’t fight back as he’s fitted into his costume; a tailored, white suit.

Far more expensive than anything he’s ever worn or owned. Restrictive in a way he knows Luka’s isn’t.

He doesn’t argue when they slick his hair back. Or when they take out his piercings.

He doesn’t even look in the mirror once he’s ready.

Someone nearby whispers that he “looks like a prince.”

The collar of the jacket is too tight around his neck.

Don’t think about it.

The stage is dark when Till is shoved out to take his position.

A sea of stars unfolds above him, stretching out across the deep black yawn of space. Till allows himself a moment to look.

His heart stutters as something bright and fast streaks across the sky.

A meteor.

A shooting star.

He remembers when the sky was a brilliant orange and dozens of stars fell as easy as the rain.

Don’t think about it.

The overhead lights come on, nearly blinding him, and the crowd roars below. Luka must be making his entrance.

Till doesn’t look at the audience. He doesn’t look at Luka either.

His gaze drops to the stage beneath him, trying in vain to tune out all of the noise.

He blinks.

Once. Twice.

Blood pools at his feet. Soaks the soles of his boots.

Don’t think about him.

Till grips the microphone and squeezes his eyes shut.

The music starts.

Luka sings the opening lyrics… but it doesn’t sound quite like him.

This voice…

It’s higher. Sweeter. Familiar.

His eyes snap up, locking on to the figure across the stage from him. Glowing like an angel under the spotlight.

Mizi.

Still in her white dress with her long pink hair pulled back.

Just as she left them. Left him.

Till’s heart aches.

She turns to him, letting her golden gaze settle over his.

What he wouldn’t have done for her to look at him like that when they were kids.

Slowly, as she draws out the last note of the line, her lips lift into a gentle smile.

Something cracks.

Wait—

That smile doesn’t look right. It doesn’t feel right.

It feels like—

It feels like Luka…

Flashes of Round 5 hit Till hard and fast.

Mizi in a daze. Luka dancing circles around her. Getting too close. Smiling that same smile.

This is exactly what Luka did to Mizi. This is why she snapped.

Till doesn’t question who Luka pretended to be to get a rise out of her.

He knew it wasn’t him.

Luka comes closer, still wearing Mizi’s face.

He can’t move. Can’t run. Can’t think.

A strong hand cups his right cheek.

Till lunges.

He can barely hear the music over the thundering in his ears and the sound of his fists meeting Luka’s face over and over again.

That bastard is grinning up at him like he already won.

Till just hits harder.

Blood pours out of Luka’s nose and splatters on his suit.

For a moment, it’s Mizi looking up at him with a bloodied face.

Till doesn’t stop.

He won’t stop until they put him down.

Just like Sua. Just like Mizi. Just like—

Ivan.

Dark eyes bore into him as they slowly drain of life.

White suit. Slicked back hair. He looks like a prince.

They dressed me just like you.

His lips are still red.

Till stares back into the only gaze that ever wanted to hold him.

As if it could make up for all of the times he looked away.

The fire raging inside him freezes over. For a moment, everything is quiet.

At the end of this story…

There is only a cold spot stained with blood…

No gods. No worshippers.

#till metaphorically destroying the version of mizi he’s idolized for years #think of it as character building/destroying to prepare him for joining the rebellion #imagine the rebels charging in right after this to save him #this is my version of round 7 (i’m pre-coping)#plus a little ivantill thrown in at the end as a treat #in my mind luka switched from being mizi to being ivan because he realized till was going to kill him in his blind rage #so luka had to make till stop somehow #no gods because sua and mizi (from till’s pov) are dead #no worshippers because till no longer worships mizi (and also sua and mizi (again from till’s pov) are dead)#ivan is also gone (not dead)#till is still ivan’s god but what is a god without a worshipper?#also ivan is alive but that’s not relevant right now #alien stage #alnst #alien stage till #alnst till #alien stage mizi #alnst mizi #alien stage ivan #alnst ivan #alien stage luka #alnst luka #alien stage round 7 #alnst round 7 #alien stage ivantill #alnst ivantill #ivantill #cw blood #ivanttakethis talks too much

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hiraethwa · 5 months

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one summer day

05 saturn i. where ushijima finds you outside your house

<< 04 new dawn. | >> 06 saturn ii.

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x reader a/n: sorry for the late post, life has been hectic lately. enjoy the angst! inbox me if you want to be tagged - ave word count: 1.7k warnings: angst, childhood trauma, parental neglect/verbal abuse, past death of a family member song: saturn by sleeping at last

april, second year

you taught me the courage of stars before you left how light carries on endlessly, even after death with shortness of breath you explained the infinite and how rare and beautiful it is to even exist

ushijima is full on sprinting to your house. feet slamming on the pavements, heart thundering out of his chest. how had he not known?

he remembers the words you uttered to him last year, seemingly random. but you had phased out when he asked you about it, lost in your own thoughts. and you had seemed so genuinely disturbed that he decided not to pursue the topic, letting it go.

“my little sister was a cat whisperer too.”

even earlier today. you had been so out of it, missing the conversation that you were in, when normally you would be listening intently. when you were always listening, even when you were pretending not to hear the stupid things they talk about.

he had patted your hair, checking to see if you were alright, and you gave him the same smile as always. others may be fooled by you, but he knew something was amiss. he had brushed it off, even though his gut told him something was not right, thinking you may have been tired from adjusting to waking up early for school again.

and you had been so quiet tonight when he walked you home. once again lost in your own thoughts, seemingly not noticing the orange cat that the two of you would stop and pet whenever he walked you home. he had stopped to give the cat a little treat before noticing that you had continued on, leaving him behind. as if your body was there, but your mind was not. like a ghost of yourself.

“how is she?” semi had asked ushijima when he returned to the dorms, bringing your homework that was left behind in semi’s room. that is new. semi never asked that question before when he walked you home in the past.

you, with your smile that shined like a gem but you rarely showed people, only those closest to you. you, with your radiant kindness that stayed always like a quiet strength, even to those you were not familiar with. you, with your quiet caring, always making sure no one is left behind. you, with your warmth that didn’t expect anything in return.

to him, you were the moon with many faces. not always seen, but always present. somehow, you two shared a bond that communicated with action more than words. two quiet people who preferred to do rather than say. to keep things to yourselves rather than burden those around you.

ushijima had known that you were independent to a certain fault, but not like this.

his fists clench of their own accord, mirroring the feeling in his heart. did you felt alone? he could not imagine the pain that you were going through right now, alone in your empty house. how had he not known?

semi’s words replay in his head. “miyamura-senpai asked me to keep an eye on her before he left for college. today is the anniversary of their youngest sister’s death.”

“my little sister was a cat whisperer too.” was. was. was.

he knew he could not have guessed that, rationally speaking. but if he had paid more attention, looked between the lines, perhaps he would have known sooner.

he should have more than enough stamina to run to your house and back to shiratorizawa round trip easily, but he finds himself out of breath as he rounds the corner to your house. the windows were dark, as if all the light had been snuffed out. something in him sinks. his heart? he isn’t sure.

“miyamura!” he bangs on your front door, hoping you weren’t asleep. if he had looked, he would have seen you squatting under the miyamura hyousatsu on the gatepost.

“ushijima?” your voice calls out weakly from behind him. he whirls around sharply.

“miya–” he wants to scold you for being so stubborn. for not relying on your friends. you did not have to shoulder this grief alone, if he could help it. not now, not ever again.

but he stops himself. because in the darkness of the night, illuminated by the streetlamps, you look so small. so defeated. like you had been carrying around all this grief with you your entire life that your shoulders sagged with the weight. that you were never given the permission to bloom. you had always reminded him of spring, but he didn’t know.

he drops his bag to the ground, homework forgotten.

“what are you doing here–” your words are cut off mid-sentence as his feet moves towards you without thinking, arms wrapping around your shoulder tightly and engulfing you in a hug. i am here.

his head sits atop yours, almost a perfect puzzle. then he drops his head next to yours, hand cupping the back of your head as he holds onto you tightly. “y/n.”

he’s never said your name out loud before. it was always miyamura, or miyamura-san. so when it comes out of his mouth, a dam breaks in you. tears come uncontrollably as you fist his clothes in your hands, trying to hold on, when all you were doing is spiraling.

you sob. crying out loud. all that raging grief that was somehow miraculously locked away in you comes pouring out. your voice comes out broken and ugly as your chest heaves up and down violently. your pained wails of grief and loss a jumbled incoherent mess.

ushijima stays with you like that for what felt like forever, as your pain breaks his heart over and over again, but all he could do was hold you and remind you that you are not alone, repeating the three little words over and over. “i am here.”

when your sobs quiet down, and your breaths slow steadily with your hiccups, he pulls away to look at you. or at least, he tries to. your arms are locked tight around him, as if he would disappear the second you loosen your grip.

“y/n, i am not leaving you.” you grip stays constant, and then slowly, after a while, it loosens around him, but does not fall away. it looks like you are intent on not letting go of him. “c’mon.”

he leads you into your house awkwardly, shuffling around with you still locked onto him, turning on the lights as he goes, knowing the place like the back of his hand from how often they come over when your parents are away for work.

“i’m making you tea.” you reluctantly release him from your arms as he sets a kettle of water to boil, but keep a hand on his shirt for good measure.

ushijima picks out sencha from the variety of green teas you stocked for him after noticing that he had been bringing his own supply of tea to your study sessions. he brews the tea in a teapot, carefully proportioning out the amount of leaves. and in your cute cat painted cup, he fills it halfway, gently blowing on the hot liquid before handing it to you.

you keep silent, sipping at the tea. he doesn’t mind, ushijima thinks. you were both on the quieter side. he likes to think that friendships are not defined by how much in common that two people have, or how much they can talk about, but rather the comfort in the silence that falls when the conversation stops.

“can i stay the night?” it’s not that he doesn’t trust you to leave you alone. he doesn’t want to leave you by yourself, and from the way you are holding onto him, he thinks that you don’t want to be there by yourself either. he doesn’t want to think about what could have happened if he didn’t come back. if you hadn’t forgotten your homework in semi’s room. if semi hadn’t told him.

you nod, gratitude shining in your swollen eyes, long dried from how much you had cried. with the hand that is still on his shirt, you tug at him to follow you up the stairs.

he realizes you mean for him to sleep in your room as you wordlessly roll out the futon that he carried from the guest room next to your bed. you show him to the bathroom for him to change out of his wet tear-stained clothes and hand over the set of clean clothes that you retrieved from your brother’s room.

you seem adamant on holding on to him by the edge of his shirt as he walks into the bathroom, almost like you would stay there as he undresses. but then, reluctantly, you let go of the small corner of the fabric that you had a deathly grip on and shuts the door.

when ushijima walks out, he finds you in the same spot he left you in. your breathing is slightly labored, hands fidgeting on your sides. he reaches for your hand, relinquishing the bottom corner of his clean shirt to you. you seem to settle down with that gesture, content with his presence.

he tucks you into bed, sitting next to you while regaling you with a tale of stars that were infinite. your grip on his shirt remains until you fall asleep, the crease between your eyebrows finally easing. at that moment in time, you look so peaceful in your sleep that he could have been fooled. the quiet one who is always taking care of her friends, never expecting anything in return. now he knows the storm that brews under your skin.

a sudden wave of exhaustion hits him then, as he covers your hand with the blanket and crawls into the futon, falling asleep almost immediately.

when he wakes up the next morning, he finds you curled up next to him, hair mussed from sleep, your hand in his, fingers interlocked perfectly.

in the days afterward, life carries on as usual. you pretend like that night didn’t happen, so ushijima follows suit. he can be patient. but he sees the cracks in the mask you don ever so clearly, stars shining through them. and he wonders, what happened to you in that house?

more and more, he notices the tenseness in your spine, the invisible weight on your shoulders. the look in your eyes that feels far older than it should be. and he feels this urge in him to wrap his arms around you and protect you from all the hurt that the world has caused you.

and then one day, when he finds himself alone with you, he blurts out the words he has been thinking about.

“you don’t have to be the person in your house with me.”

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persphonesorchid · 10 months

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Lovin' On You - MYG

Summary: After what happened at the fair, Yoongi is plagued with a re-occurring nightmare of a life that was once his. For a reason that escapes him, he's held on to the Lover's card.

Genre: Enemies to lovers, fluff, angst.

Warnings: talking about nightmares, Yoongi and Mc still don't know what to do with themselves. They're honestly so annoying oml. Yoongi bites his nail and it bleeds just a little bit :(. Mc has a nightmare, but don't worry! Yoongi's there :) Unbeta'd

Wordcount:7.8k

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Notes: It's HERE YAY! Finally wrapped this up at 2am this morning! :))) I hope the wait wasn't too annoying, and I really hope you guys enjoy this!! Feedback is appreciated and encouraged! Let me know what you think! I hope after the long wait that this is okay for you all! Have a good day! :))

Yoongi’s standing in a doorway. There’s a storm raging behind him. It rattles the wooden panes of a house that’s cold, the wind blows and leaves and rain follow. His heart is at his feet, scattering in the breeze that blows in from outside. He’s cold and soaked from the rain but he doesn’t even have it in him to shiver.

The first beat of his heart then is harsh, it stalls his breath, catching it his throat where it stifles him. The other kicks so hard he thinks it’d burst right through his ribs.

There’s a woman on the floor, and he says a name he doesn’t know. A name he could barely hear over the thunder that claps, a name that clings to his throat with the way he chokes on it. She stares right through him, eyes dimmed and dull. He stumbles forward and drops to his knees before he reaches her. The floor is hard, digging into the silk of his clothes and the cold, soaked skin beneath.

Her blood is cold and his hand slips as he grabs for her, pressing his hands against the wound that still bleeds.

“N-no. Why...why are you laying here?” He sits in the blood, and it stains his clothes. She’s heavy as he lifts her, staring into her eyes that can no longer see. “Why are you laying here? Wake up. Wake up!”

Yoongi startles awake, sitting up in his too warm sheets, gasping for air. His heart pounds in his chest like he’s been running, his throat feels raw like he’s been screaming at the top of his lungs. He kicks the tangled covers off and stumbles out of bed. With a hand pressed over his mouth he runs to the bathroom across the hall.

He spills the dinner he had into the toilet, sitting on the cold tiled floor. When he’s done, he sits there and sobs, and he wishes he knew why he was crying. Why the sadness he felt sealed him in this little corner, closing around his throat in a way that makes him gasp for air. And the guilt, there’s so much that Yoongi feels as though he could reach into his chest and scoop it all out.

It isn’t his.

These emotions do not belong to him, and Yoongi wishes he could leave them alone. But every night - or ungodly hour of the morning - for the past week, he’s here. Reeling from the too vivid fragments of a dream, a memory that doesn’t belong to him either.

It was his, maybe, a couple lifetimes ago. Where a man and a woman met a tragic end.

He squeezes his eyes shut, wiping his face with the collar of his tee-shirt. He’s tired of this and in general, he’s not gotten much sleep since that night at the fair. Yoongi sighs, long and drawn out, standing on shaky legs to flush the toilet and wobble over to the sink to brush his teeth. He stares at himself in the mirror, toothbrush hanging from his mouth, the mess of his hair and his tired, red eyes.

He wonders how you’re doing. If you’re asleep right now, all warm and cosy in your sheets. Or if you’re in the same predicament as he is. The thought of you going through the same thing doesn’t bring him comfort, instead, worry draws his brows together.

He remembers well the panic you were in, standing in the middle of a storm looking through him. Your fingers were cold when they wrapped around his wrist then, calling his name so softly he’d barely heard you.

He’s been suffering, constantly reliving a moment that wasn’t his. He’d hate if you had to do the same. He’d had to make sure you stayed grounded there with him, in the middle of whatever insane shared subconscious acid trip you’d both went on. He couldn’t let you fall into whatever you were feeling.

Yoongi sighs, flipping the light switch as he walks out the bathroom. He stands at the open door of his bedroom, staring at the rumpled sheets of his bed and wonders if getting back into it would be worth the tossing and turning. Sleep is already long gone and the furthest thing from his mind, so Yoongi walks to his kitchen instead.

He feels a little lost, not quite sure what he’s doing standing there in the dark at four in the morning. Tired of this seemingly endless loop of the past week, but too restless to attempt putting an end to it. He does the same he’s done all week when he wakes up at ass ‘o clock; make a cup of coffee, sit at the table and stare into the swirling pool of liquid.

“Fucking hell.” He presses his palms into his eyes and sighs.

Yoongi sits there until his white ceramic cup is empty, and he makes another, and the sun is scattering orange and pinks, coming up between the clouds. His phone chimes where he’d brought it and left it on the table, a short vibration and a brief glow of his lock screen shows a text alert.

He stares at it for a moment, noting the time to be just a bit after six am. He wonders who it could be at this hour, if it’s Seokjin or Jungkook after staying up too long, playing video games. Or maybe, Namjoon, owning up to that broken mug still sitting in his trash that Yoongi knows he broke.

He unlocks the phone with a press of his thumb. It’s neither of the people he thought of, but a short string of words in a good morning text from you.

Yoongi’s a little surprised.

Even after that night at the fair, after he’d said you should both start over, and you agreed; nothing much has happened. It’s a bit hard, to break out of the habit of not keeping up with you simply because he has no reason to.

His finger hovers over the text box, mind mulling over what exactly to say. A simple good morning back, after not much thought, and then, asking why you were awake this early.

As soon as the text was sent and received by you, you’re calling him. For a second, his heart races as he fumbles to swipe at the pick-up prompt. The same way it did when that lost kid at the fair mistook you both for a couple.

Yoongi didn’t let the thought linger, storing it in a little box to mull over another time when his palms aren’t sweating. Or when he isn’t stumbling through a greeting like he’s never spoken to you before. Well, he has...but never in a way that doesn’t send you two bickering.

“Hey...” Your voice is soft, and he barely hears you over what he assumes is you shuffling about in your sheets. “Sorry, I know this is random, ‘cause we don’t really talk...”

“It’s okay, what’s up?” Yoongi presses his phone between his ear and shoulder, getting up to refill his cup with more steaming coffee. You go quiet for a moment, long enough that Yoongi has to check to see if the call is still connected. “Y/n?”

“This is gonna sound weird...but I don’t think anything can be weirder than what happened last week. Honestly, nothing’s ever gonna top that ev- “

He calls your name again, as he catches on that you’re rambling and not actually getting anywhere close to telling him why you called. “What’s wrong?”

You sigh, whispering something that he doesn’t catch before speaking up, “I’ve...Have you...” you trail off, groaning.

“Take your time, I’ve got all day.” Yoongi didn’t actually mean it in the way it sounded, he really does have all day.

“Okay, let’s talk about the weather then. Cause you clearly don’t wanna hear what I have to say. What if it’s something really important? What if I was dying? Bet you wouldn’t sass me then.” You go off in a tangent, and Yoongi lets you get all your words out. There’s a little smile tugging on the corners of his mouth, which, all in his lonesome, he doesn’t bother to hide. This feels familiar, a tug backwards to where you both were before that night last week.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Yoongi can’t help the soft chuckle he hopes you didn’t catch, and that’s because he’s stirring a spoonful of sugar into his coffee very loudly to cover it. He shuffles back to the chair at the dining table, slumping into it, tracing the handle of his mug with a finger. “And besides, if you were dying, I’d be the last person you call. Matter of fact, I’d probably hear it from Seokjin.”

“I wouldn’t even have the time to call him.” You laugh, it’s a nice sound, and before, for reasons he couldn’t understand, it was like nails on a blackboard. It’s pleasant, makes him smile again for no reason at all.

“...Anyway. I’ve been having dreams...” You finally say, and despite the way it warrants the concern from earlier, he keeps quiet. You saying that to him can only mean one thing, and its exactly what Yoongi was afraid of.

“We all have dreams, Y/n.” Is what he says instead, because he’d be damned if you knew he’s been worried about you. Not right now when nothing between you both has gone further than a handshake and an attempt to move forward. You’re barely friends.

“Yoongi.” The way you say his name has him pursing his lips and relenting. “This is serious.”

“Okay.” Yoongi sighs, he was hoping you wouldn’t say that. He sets his mug down, not quite feeling for the coffee anymore; he’s had more than enough of it anyway. He’d be lucky if he would be able to sit still in a couple of hours. You’re quiet again, but Yoongi knows to give you a moment, so he waits, getting up instead to poke through his fridge.

He’s studying the left-over rice and the eggs on the top shelf when you find your voice.

“Do you think...are you busy? Can I come over?” You ask softly.

Yoongi hums, a little distracted, reaching for a small container of garlic butter he’s sure was Seokjin’s idea. He squints at the yellow and blue label before shaking his head and putting it back, “You don’t know where I live, though.”

“.... I was there last month, remember? Hobi dragged me over there for that get together thing...”

“Ah.” Yoongi nods, pulling out the rice he tucked in a Tupperware bowl and a couple eggs. “I don’t even remember seeing you then...” He’s lying; he does. He remembers that he told Hoseok to not bring you along, but all the little shit did was roll his eyes and brought you anyway. Yoongi’s anything but rude, so he had no choice but to suck it up and stay as far away from you as possible.

Everyone acted nicely and pretended not to notice the tension.

“I heard there’s pills for that you know? I got some for my Grandad some time ago, works miracles.”

“Fuck off.” Yoongi grumbles but doesn’t do much else as you continue to tell him how good it would be to get them. He doesn’t mind this, there’s a sense of normalcy in your banter and he finds comfort in it. “Get here before I change my mind.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

There's a beep and then you’re gone and Yoongi’s wondering if he should make more rice.

A half hour later, there’s a knock on the door, and Yoongi turns the heat of the stovetop off to answer it. You’re standing on the other side, a nervous air about you as he lets you in. He closes the door behind you, giving you a moment to take your shoes off and trail behind him to the kitchen.

He'd fussed a bit over the fried rice he made, that still sits in the pot, cooling on the table, and Yoongi bites the inside of his cheek.

“Have...Have you eaten?” He asks softly, not quite sure what to do with himself now that you’re here. You shake your head, and he silently nods and moves to the cabinets to grab bowls and utensils, he sits opposite you when he finished serving the bowls, setting one down in front of you.

You eat silently for a moment and Yoongi doesn’t want to rush you, so he eats too, a little awkwardly. It’s hard when it’s just the both of you, without your friends to act as a buffer, and Yoongi studies you as you eat, pointedly avoiding his gaze.

“Are you okay?” He ignores the urge to reach for your hand and curls his free one against his thigh.

You finally look at him, raising a brow, “Are you? You look like shit.”

Yoongi’s quite aware of how he looks, he’s not been getting enough rest and it shows. He chuckles though, a brief shake of his shoulders and he shakes his head, looking down at the fried rice in his bowl, “Wow. Thanks, you really know how to compliment a guy.”

“You’re welcome.” You smile, and Yoongi’s lost in it, almost blinded. You let your spoon rest in the bowl, a small furrow between your brows and concern in your eyes. Yoongi’s a bit surprised at that, though, he thinks he should try to get used to it... if you’re gonna be friends and all. “Seriously though, are you?”

Yoongi lets out a breath, tongue poking into his cheek, “Could be better, honestly.” He raises a shoulder in a shrug, “Sleep’s hard to come by.”

You hum softly, sighing, “You too, huh?”

“The dreams...?” You suddenly look as tired as Yoongi feels, nodding your head quietly.

Your eyes shift to somewhere above his head, and something cracks in Yoongi’s chest at the sadness in them. It’s the same as that night, out in the storm, and he doesn’t hesitate to take your hand this time. He reaches across the table, fingers brushing yours first before he draws them closer and into his hand. “Hey, talk to me.”

You let out a soft laugh that sounds sardonic to Yoongi’s ears, but he doesn’t pull his hand away and instead tightens his grip and calls your name softly. You take a breath, something he sees more than he hears, your eyes meet his and there’s a shine to them that makes Yoongi uncomfortable. It burrows into his chest and stays there, gnawing at the strings. He doesn’t want to see you cry so he looks away first and sighs softly.

“I’ve been getting them, too.” He says, still not looking at you, he focuses on the warmth of your hand in his, “Just one, every time.”

The sadness from this morning returns, and Yoongi feels as though he’s standing in that doorway, staring at the woman on the floor with a grief that isn’t his. He squeezes his eyes shut tightly, as though it would stop the image from flashing behind them. It doesn’t, and he sees it anyway, like if his eyes are open. He drums the fingers of his free hand against the tabletop in a rhythm and focuses on that for a moment.

“It’s always...” he sighs, “just her...on the floor...” He doesn’t want to say more and he’s glad when you don’t ask him to. He tries not to look at you, because looking at you makes him remember. You’re not her, he reminds himself, though, there’s some similarity in your presence. The feeling of the air in the space you occupy that doesn’t allow him to let it go.

He almost rolls his eyes, really, because why is he so caught up in this? Part of him still believes that what happened that night never did.

But you’re here, you, who just this time last week, he’d wanted nothing to do with. You didn’t matter enough for him to spare a thought if it wasn’t for complaining or trying to rinse Seokjin’s ears out with a few choice words because yes, you - absolutely, most definitely - had to be at the fair with them.

Yoongi still thinks Seokjin traded spots with Jimin to pick you up on purpose. Just out of spite.

He doesn’t think it’s too much of a bad thing now, since really, you’re all he thought of in the days following, and, under no good circumstance, this past week.

You, who shared the same weird moment with him, and that stupid card is sitting on his dresser, still. He’d said that you both should start over, and he meant it. He’d like to backtrack a bit, he thinks, figure out the when and why you both had started out the way you had.

Maybe you were laughing too loudly, or maybe you tried too hard to be nice meeting him for the first time. Whatever it was...now that Yoongi’s taking a moment to think about it – albeit, a terrible moment, he’s sure he’s been silent for a while now – he didn’t like you.

He wonders what it was now, why it was mutual...he doesn’t know. And he probably wouldn’t know for a while.

Maybe it’ll come to him later, when all this is done, he’ll figure it out.

“Hey.” Your fingers wiggle against his palm but you don’t pull them away. Turning your hand just a bit to hold his and squeeze softly, “Where’d you go?”

“Sorry.” Yoongi offers a faint smile and not much else, and goes quiet again, watching you watch him with a slight frown and something he can’t put a name to in your eyes. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m okay.”

He listens as you tell him about your dream, just one that reoccurs, stuck in a loop like he’s been for the past week. In your dream you’re no longer standing on the outskirts of a memory, but right in the middle of it playing the part of the woman that met her end.

Once the food was finished you both stay at the table, not quite sure what to do now.

“Have any idea what it might be?” You ask softly and Yoongi can only shake his head.

“Trauma response, maybe.” He mutters, leaning back into his chair, “...What if we check the fair? It’s supposed to be here still, we might be able to find something out. Or at least a way to stop the dreams?”

You perk up, “Yeah, I think that would be a good idea...” then you pause, “But...She disappeared, remember? The whole place was gone when we woke up...I’m not even sure if it was there to begin with...”

Yoongi hums, rubbing his fingers against his bottom lip in thought. That’s true, and even now it still confuses him how everything disappeared as though it was never there. It makes everything feel as though it was just a dream. With a plan in mind, both you and Yoongi leave his apartment, heading down the stairs together to his car.

Once settled in, Yoongi turns the radio on, he has a feeling you won’t be doing much talking and needs something to fill the silence before it gets awkward. The drive is a long as he remembers, out of the city and a couple miles or so before he could see the tops of the fair attractions. It’s void of fair-goers, considering it’s only eight in the morning, and the little ticket booth just outside the entrance is empty.

Yoongi shuts off the engine, setting his hands on the wheel and peers through the windshield. Further inside, from where he could see, there’s a few people – most likely staff – going about their businesses’. They don’t seem to notice you both, too busy setting up for what would probably be the last and busiest night of the fair. “Don’t suppose we could just walk through the gate, huh?”

There’s a sigh from you, “We could just be normal people and ask, you know.”

“They’re closed, they won’t let us in.” Yoongi hums, not to mention, they’d probably think you’re both crazy with the story you’d have to explain. “Or...” he unbuckles his seatbelt and steps out of the car, “C’mon.”

Around the perimeter of the fair, there’s a sparse smattering of trees. It’s not much to hide a person, much less two sneaking around, but if Yoongi remembers correctly; that strange woman’s tent was just at the edge of it. He waits until you’re out of the car, expression a little distrusting – your slightly narrowed eyes giving him a once over. He thinks nothing of taking your hand, tugging you long behind him as he moves around to the corner of the entrance, he peeks around the booth and through the chain-linked fencing. Everyone on the compound seems far enough away, no one close enough to see you two act like teenagers up to no good, one bad step away from getting arrested for trespassing.

“What are you doing?” You ask, loud enough to make Yoongi falter the step he was about to take. He turns to you slightly, lips in a flat line, you stare at him expectantly and Yoongi wave his hand.

“I don’t know, what does it look like we’re doing?” He asks, shaking his head at you before turning around again. The first booth that’s closet to the entrance has people milling about it now, two of them carrying boxes and the other person fumbling with something in their hands.

“I am so not climbing this fence, Yoongi.” You say, and Yoongi feels the finger of your free hand poking his back.

“Obviously, shithead. You wanna get arrested?” Yoongi rolls his eyes skyward and stares for a moment, sighing. “We’re going around, now keep quiet, you’re talking too loud.”

You grumble something to yourself, and Yoongi ignores you, waiting until the folks at the booth seem busy enough not to notice you both; backs to you. He pulls you along beside him, crossing over some shrubbery and into the trees, as you both move further along, there’s more people. The trees do a good job at hiding you both, and Yoongi knows it’s not much further when he sees the bathroom’s chipping paint.

This is a terrible idea, but Yoongi’s had worse. Though, this is very high on his list of bad decisions.

Eventually there’s a break in the chain link fence, where the shrubbery and the sparse trees meet the edge of the compound. The space where he clearly remembers the tent being, is unsurprisingly empty.

“Now what?” You murmur next to him, quietly even though there’s no reason for you to be whispering.

Yoongi lifts a shoulder in a shrug, “Can’t say we didn’t try...Hey-” He reaches for you as you walk past him and onto the compound. He follows – of course he does – grabbing your wrist and tugging you back a little before you can get too far. “There’s nothing here.”

Yoongi scans the area anxiously, knowing his luck, someone’s bound to see you both standing here in broad daylight. It’s unnervingly quiet, save for the faint sounds of people around the compound doing their jobs.

Something settles in your expression that Yoongi doesn’t like, as you stare at the empty lot. There’s a furrow between your brows, teeth worrying at your bottom lip. Yoongi understands, he wants this over with as much as you do. He wants a night where his dreams don’t disturb the little sleep he can catch on a normal day. Not stuck in some endless loop of mishaps.

Yoongi releases his hold, keeping an eye out while you figure out whatever is going on in your head. He wants to ask, not let you sink too far, but shakes his head instead, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

It took a second to realise there was something more in there than his car keys. Small and sleek and making the hair on the back of his neck raise. Yoongi takes a breath, settling his nerves before pulling the item out of his pocket. By now, he’s used to it – stranger things have happened – but it doesn’t change the fact that he left the stupid card on his dresser.

The gold letters and design of the Lover’s card glimmers against the sunlight. The couple on the card stands in a beautiful, fertile landscape, reminiscent of the Garden of Eden. Behind the woman stands a tall apple tree, with a snake winding its way up the trunk. Behind the man is a bare tree in flames, and above them both is an Angel.

Yoongi doesn’t know if he expects the depictions on the card would shift the more he studies it. Or maybe, if he was really lucky, it would burst into flames in the direct sunlight and he can be rid of it. Unfortunately, Yoongi’s never that lucky. He wonders if it’s cursed, and given his luck it might as well be. Isn’t that how those silly horror movies go? Someone always ends up with a cursed object somehow.

There’s something unsettling curling in his stomach as he stares at it, and when you turn to him, he quickly tosses it. He sees it flutter to the grassy ground in the corner of his eye, and he’s certain you’d notice, too. So, he takes a wide step to reach you, offering a smile. “We should go...”

Maybe the tent would be here if you both return later. Yoongi wouldn’t be shocked if the strange woman only comes out at night.

There’s a faraway look in your eyes when Yoongi reaches for your hand, he hooks a finger into the sleeve of your sweater and tugs lightly. You blink quietly at him and Yoongi sighs softly, taking a step closer to take your hand. “We’ll come back later, okay?”

You nod minutely, and Yoongi takes the small smile you offer as a victory. Your fingers curl into his, and they’re a little cold, so Yoongi gently rubs his thumb against the back of your hand.

It takes a few steps forward before the hair on the back of his neck raises. The wind that blows by is certainly too cold for the dead end of Spring and Yoongi falters in his next step, he squeezes your hand lightly and stands still.

“Young man.”

The voice is one he remembers faintly, and he turns, tugging you behind him slightly. He’s ready to tell you to make a run for it, hand almost slipping out of yours to push you if he must.

The woman looks older in the natural light, she has more wrinkles than Yoongi remembers. Her silver hair hangs in ringlets, the dark robe like dress is the same as the last he saw her in, only now he notices the glimmering silver pattern that runs along the fabric. She still dons her many rings and dreamcatcher earrings, and a displeased frown directed at Yoongi. Behind her sits the little tent.

Despite her being the person you’d both been hoping to see; you don’t say anything and neither does Yoongi.

He glances at you for a second before looking back at the woman.

“It’s very rude to throw away what was given so graciously.” She waves a hand at the card that lies face down on the grass.

Yoongi narrows his eyes at the card and sucks his teeth before his gaze returns to the woman. “Yeah? Well, we don’t want it, so, graciously take it back.”

The woman narrows her eyes right back, not looking all too pleased, but Yoongi doesn’t care. He throws the card away and she suddenly appears? Nothing screams cursed more than that.

“.... Please.” Yoongi adds after a thought, his hand tightening around yours.

The shaman gives him a once over, eyes still narrowed before she sighs and waves a hand, beckoning you both forward. She bends down to pick up the card, straightening up to glare at Yoongi before she walks over and into her tent.

Yoongi takes a moment before following, turning to face you.

“Are you okay?” He asks softly, eyes searching your face, and he calls your name, equally as soft, squeezing your hand lightly. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“I’m okay.” You say, finally meeting his gaze with a small smile. “Let’s get this over with.”

You lead the way forward, and Yoongi watches the way your hand fits in his, smaller in every sense of the word, your fingers slotted perfectly in the spaces between his. Your hand is warmer now, and Yoongi smiles to himself.

The woman waits patiently at the tent’s entrance, holding the flap open for Yoongi and you to duck under. Like before, you both remove your shoes before stepping up onto the raised carpeted platform. Yoongi only releases your hand once you’re both seated.

“Well then.” The woman begins, sighing through her nose. She places a small cup on the table along with a small white teapot. Yoongi is immediately apprehensive, which the woman notices, “This isn’t for you, child.”

The water she pours is clear and steaming, and all is quiet as she does so. She sips her tea quietly, eyes darting between you both. She places her cup down, smiling, “You two have come quite a long way.” She says with a slight raise of her silver brow.

“We’ve been having dreams.” Yoongi says, not in any way amused, “We want them to stop.”

The dreams have been nothing but a disruption to his daily life, haunting the little hours of sleep he gets and even his waking hours he can’t escape it. He’s noticed that you’re a lot less yourself than he remembers, he doesn’t blame you, after everything, but he’s starting to miss the banter. He misses the normality.

Some days he feels guilty about it, if he hadn’t stopped then, if he wasn’t so unnervingly curious about what this woman had to say, you’d both be well as rain and stuck in the normal routine.

“The dreams aren’t my doing.” The woman says, ��Souls hold onto things: regrets, anger, guilt; unfinished business.”

“I thought souls with unfinished business don’t cross over?” You finally speak up, throwing Yoongi a small glance.

Yoongi’s never really believed in that type of stuff, ghosts and things of the like, but you’re right, he knows that much.

“Sometimes.” The woman says, “Like I’ve said, this isn’t the first time for you both. Your souls are just destined to be.” She says this a little too gleefully, clapping her hands together.

Yoongi coughs, trying his best not to choke on air, and he’s quick to say something before it gets awkward. “Right…How do we get the dreams to stop?”

“That’s up to you both. There’s nothing I can do to help you.” She says seriously, picking up her cup and sipping from the tea.

Yoongi opens his mouth to say something, but your hand on top of his stops him, and he calms.

“What do you mean by it’s up to us? Is there something we have to do?”

The woman smiles at your question, a twinkle in her eyes. She lifts her hand, the Lover’s card between her fingers, and places it on the table, sliding it back over to Yoongi.

“As I’ve said; souls hold onto things.” She says, “The dreams will stop once you’ve figured it out.”

As it be, the shaman was way less helpful that Yoongi hoped. Her cryptic words had you both silent on the drive back to his apartment, and he mulls over them as he pulls two bottles of water from his refrigerator.

It’s frustrating enough to think about, and Yoongi decides to think on it later, walking back to the living room where he left you.

“I think I understand what she meant...”

Ah, later is now, he supposes.

You look up at him from your spot on the couch, brows slightly furrowed.

“Oh yeah?” He passed you one of the bottles, “what, then?”

You hum, taking the bottle from him and looking off to the side in thought, “Their deaths...I remember feeling really sad and angry, but mostly sad.”

A sudden, unexpected wave of guilt washes over Yoongi. It’s something that doesn’t belong to him, but it affects him all the same.

“She didn’t want him to leave and he did.”

“...Yeah.” Yoongi mutters, sitting next to you. He lifts his thumb to lips, biting through the nail. He pulls too hard and hisses, looking down at his now bleeding finger. He picks at the nail that just hangs there, trying to pull the little strip off the flesh it clings to.

“Stop that.” You smack his hand away, “You’ll make it worse.”

Yoongi watches as you fish out your keychain, a small nail clipper hanging with the keys.

“It’s my fingernail.” Yoongi rolls his eyes, but lets you take his hand anyway.

You carefully clip the offending piece of nail away, and examine the rest of his fingers. You click your tongue against your teeth. “You barely have nails to bite on, you’re not doing yourself any favours.”

Shaking your head you tuck your keychain back into your pocket, “Do you have band aids?”

Yoongi stares at you while you take his other hand to look at, muttering about his terrible habit. The warm sunlight streaming in through the window makes you glow and he can’t look away, even when you lift your head and meets his gaze.

“It doesn’t need a band aid.” You’re quiet for a moment as you stare back, and Yoongi realises that right at this moment, there’s a shift.

Something that wasn’t there before – or perhaps he hadn’t taken notice – pokes a finger into his heart and tugs.

“Yes, it does...” You say softly, sounding a little distracted.

“That’s a waste of a band aid.”

“It isn’t. I’ll put one on so you don’t go at it again.” You release his hand and Yoongi feels like he’s been pulled out of a daydream, blinking up at you as you stand and stare at him expectantly.

“I have nine other fingers, you know.” He can’t help the small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, and you take his teasing in stride.

“Well, let’s hope you have nine more band aids.” Your smile is all teeth and Yoongi rolls his eyes, telling you he keeps the first aid kit in the bathroom.

“What do you think they’re holding onto?” You ask from the living room two hours later. The TV is a soft murmur in the background, and Yoongi stands in the kitchen making sandwiches because he doesn’t feel like cooking is worth slaving over the stove right now.

He’s making sandwiches.

“How do you usually feel after your dream?” He asks back, “Also, what kind of sandwich do you want?”

“Whatever’s fine,” There’s some shuffling, “And, I don’t know. I’d say sad, but I’m usually terrified, like I’m waking up from a nightmare.” Your voice is softer now and Yoongi can barely hear you, but he catches on pretty quickly.

Between the both of you, Yoongi would say he got off easy. He thinks he’d be much worse if he’d been dreaming the death of his past self on repeat. He honestly wonders how you do it; you’re as strong as they come.

Yoongi spends a few more minutes putting the sandwiches together and cutting them in halves. He puts the plate on a tray with two glasses of apple juice and walks back to the living room. “You said whatever’s fine, so don’t give me any shit for—”

You’re curled up on his couch, hands tucked under your head; asleep. Yoongi sets the tray down on the coffee table and then goes to his room for a blanket. You look peaceful, and Yoongi can only hope you stay that way. He can’t see the sadness in your eyes with them closed and recent, your expression calm and for the first time today you actually look like you’re here. Not off in your head somewhere else.

He throws the blanket over you, making sure you’re well covered before sitting on the floor. He’s finishing his portion of the sandwiches and reaching for a glass of juice when you suddenly jerk.

Yoongi pauses to look at you, and you seem fine for a moment, and then in the next there’s an expression of pain and you’re breathing too harshly.

Yoongi reaches for you, grasps your arm and gently shakes. “Y/n.” He calls, you don’t respond, and he tries again, “Y/n, wake up.”

He’s careful not to lean over you like the last time, lest you spring upwards and he’d be left nursing a headache. He’s at your side, shaking you a little harder now. “Y/n! Wak—”

Your eyes open and then you’re panicking. Your other arm wriggles out of the blanket, Yoongi’s unable to catch it before your hand smacks him right on the nose, forcing him to let go of the other one as you raise to sit up.

“Y—hey! Relax, relax! It’s just me.” He grabs your flailing hands, pinning them at your sides, “Y/n. It’s me.”

You still look like you’re asleep as you watch him with some confusion, eyes glazed and glossy, and Yoongi’s not sure what to do when you call his name softly and the first tear falls. He’s up on his knees and pulling you towards him in an instant.

You cry and Yoongi feels his throat tighten and the telling sting behind his eyes. He holds you to him with a gentle hand at the back of your neck and the other rubbing circles against your back.

“I’m sorry.” He says, and he isn’t sure why, he has nothing to apologize for. There’s that guilt again, swelling in his chest and he can only tighten the hold he has on you. “I’m sorry.”

When you pull away the collar of his shirt is damp, and you muster a smile that looks tired. Yoongi’s looking at you, but he swears he doesn’t see you. Instead, there’s a young woman in silk, she’s sad but she’s smiling.

“Its okay.”

Yoongi blinks and she’s gone, and you’re fussing over his bruised nose and damp shirt. He catches your hand before you can poke at his nose again, he’s not even registering the dull throbbing of it. “Are you okay?”

You don’t meet his gaze and your other hand is wiping at the wet spot you left in his shirt. “There’s snot on your shirt.”

“That’s what soap and water is for; I’ll wash it. Answer the question.”

You nod slowly, “I’m okay.”

Yoongi stares for a moment, fingers tensing just slightly at the back of your neck as he realises that this is how you wake in your apartment – alone. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” Your gaze flicker downwards, looking at his nose again, though he’s not quite certain.

“Okay.”

His phone chimes from where he left it on the floor, and he makes sure you’re fine before he turns to retrieve it.

Seokjin: I’m coming over.

“Oh great.” Yoongi mutters, unlocking his phone to send a reply back when the sound of his door unlocking fills the quiet space.

“I’ve been trying to get through to you for days, Yoongi.” Seokjin says from the entryway and Yoongi’s trying to process the fact that he was already outside when he texted. “You don’t call for love or money, you don’t even text! And I thought: Hey, maybe I should check on him so I know he isn’t dea—”

Seokjin pauses at the living room entrance, quiet now, blinking silently at you for a long moment before he looks at Yoongi, and back to you again.

“Am I interrupting?” Yoongi could see the smile he’s failing to hide, before it falls completely, expression shifting. “Were you two fighting again? Why are you crying, Y/n? And you, what happened to your nose?”

“We weren’t fighting.” Yoongi says, and turns to find that you did start crying again. “You said you were okay.”

Neither of you see it, but Seokjin is simply standing there, not too sure what he’s looking at. Eyes darting between the both of you, he feels like he’s missed something.

“I’m fine.” You say softly, smiling.

Seokjin is quiet for a moment longer, then clears his throat. You and Yoongi both look at him, “I’m glad you’re here, though, Y/n. As weird as that is to say...” He whispers the last part more to himself and then shakes his head, “Anyway, get changed! We’re going somewhere!”

“At least it’s not a fair.” You mutter, and Yoongi nods sleepily; the day’s finally catching up to him. He thinks he’d best stay away from those for a long time.

Yoongi’s not too sure why Seokjin insisted you both come out only to drag you two all around the mall for half of the afternoon, where the others had appeared, saying something about you both needing fresh air.

You all sat through a movie— Yoongi barely remembers it – with too salty popcorn and drinks, and now you’re at a table outside the arcade centre in the mall. He could see Jungkook running around the arcade with Taehyung and Jimin at his heels, with an armful of plushies from the claw machine.

Yoongi’s sharing a pizza with you, Seokjin is somewhere about, and Hoseok and Namjoon are laughing at something on the latter’s phone.

Yoongi leans his head against your shoulder, pizza slice still in his hand and chewing lazily. He’s tired, and he’d sleep right there if you’d let him.

“Tired?”

Yoongi answers with a soft grunt, lifting his head to bite at the pizza. Hoseok and Namjoon are quiet amidst the noise of the arcade and the other mall goers.

“Are you guys dating now?” Hoseok asks and Namjoon smacks him, “What? I’m just asking what everyone is thinking! We don’t see them for two weeks and they’re all buddy-buddy!”

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” Jungkook dumps a large clear plastic bag with prizes on the table, “They’ve been like that since they disappeared at the fair.”

“They are right here.” Yoongi grumbles, dropping the pizza crust into the box. “You guys assume too much.”

“Assumptions are possibilities!” Seokjin takes the seat next to you, poking at Jungkook’s bag, “Did you rob the machine or something?”

Yoongi groans, “I’m going home. I’m too tired for this.”

He takes your hand and pulls you after him when he stands, waving to the boys. “See you guys.”

Taehyung and Jimin come out of the arcade as you both pass by.

“I’m sure there’s an explanation for that, one that makes sense.”

“Yeah, we stepped into an alternate universe.”

Yoongi takes you back to his apartment, because he doesn’t want you to be alone, and he tells you as much. It’s the reason you give back to him when he told you he’d sleep on the couch.

Now Yoongi’s laying in his bed with his heart somewhere in his throat. You’re an inch and a half away from him and you smell like his shampoo.

“Yoongi, are you awake?”

“No.”

He’s wide awake actually. Sleep just ran away and left him staring at his ceiling. He hears you chuckle softly.

“If I wake you later, I’m sorry.”

Yoongi turns on his side, he can’t see you in the dark and he searches for your hand with his. When he finds it, he squeezes gently, running his thumb softly over your knuckles. “That’ll be okay.”

You shift closer and Yoongi holds his breath. You tuck yourself against him and Yoongi’s heart does a thing; it stalls for a second and then it kicks. He’s not sure what to do with his free hand, so he takes a breath and settles it against the back of your neck, fingers playing with the soft hair at your nape.

“Thank you.” You mutter.

“For what?” Yoongi mutters back.

“For not letting me be alone.” You say, and Yoongi softly squeezes your hand. He tilts his head down, pressing a gentle kiss to your hairline that lingers. Despite everything, laying like this with you feels natural, like something he’s missed and he wonders which part of him missed it.

“Thank you for doing the same.” Yoongi smiles, “You don’t have to be, ever. We can do this every night if you want to.”

“Really?” You ask, and Yoongi feels you laughing, “Guess we’ll never beat the assumptions.”

Yoongi snorts, “Guess not.”

You’re quiet for a moment and Yoongi thinks you’ve fallen asleep, but you speak quietly again.

“You didn’t tell me what you feel after your dreams.”

“That’s because you fell asleep before I could.” Yoongi closes his eyes, “Do you want to know?”

“I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.” Yoongi pokes his finger into the side of your neck in warning; he’s too tired for your snark right now.

“Sadness and a lot of guilt.” He feels light a weight lifted off his shoulders as the words leave him, and he sighs, “Y/n?”

You hum and Yoongi squints at the darkness behind you. “Do you think she was right? About our souls, I mean.”

“Which part?” You chuckle, and Yoongi feels you shift. His eyes are adjusted enough to the dark that he can see you.

“About our souls being destined.” It feels silly to ask, considering everything that’s been happening. It makes him think about why you both started out the way you had.

Perhaps, your minds hadn’t been able to process what your souls were feeling, and somewhere, confused it. Maybe that’s why all you both had done was step on each other’s toes.

You hum softly, “It would explain a few things.”

Yoongi gets the feeling that you’re not actually talking to him, but he nods anyway.

“Where does that leave us then?”

“We can see where it takes us?” Yoongi says after a moment, hand moving from the back of your neck to cup your cheek, “Only if that’s okay...”

“Mhm, that’s okay.” He feels you smile and then you’re whispering, “Yoongi?”

“Why are you whispering?” Yoongi whispers back, smiling too. “What is it?”

“Is it okay if I kiss you?”

When he swallows then it’s audible even to him, “twenty minutes into cuddling and you want to kiss me? What am I gonna do with you?”

You whine his name softly, Yoongi finds it endearing and he relents, “Yes, that’s okay.”

When your lips meet his, it feels as though the earth stopped spinning for a second, and something inside Yoongi had finally returned to the place it was supposed to be.

When Yoongi falls asleep not five minutes afterwards, his sleep was dreamless.

Tagging: @blog-name-idk @euphoricfilter @luaspersona @eoieopda @bangtansmauyeondan @taestefully-in-luv @mssukeyna @madbutgloriouspond @dontstoptime @allhobbitstoisengard @eren-fall @xpeachesncream

Sequel tag: @potazaas @yourmomis14eh @petalsofink @princxssly82 @olyd @secfir @borareadsfic @jjkreads

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wandabear · 1 year

Text

All my dreams, they fade away (I'll never be the same)

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Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x female reader status: this is a 'You always love me more (when we're miles away)' sequel. part two, alternative ending. You asked for it, im giving. ㅤㅤ

part one - part two

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤCHAPTER TWO

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I just woke up from a fuzzy dream... You never would believe those things that I have seen. I looked in the mirror and I saw your face. You looked right through me, you were miles away. All my dreams they fade away I'll never be the same. ㅤㅤ

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The sadness never left her heart. ㅤㅤ

Despite the fact that she was raised to overcome any kind of pain, including letting go of her feelings and ignore them to the point of forgetting that they exist, the only pain she had ever been able to overcome was the death of the person she loved the most.

Because she loved her, she loved Y/N, until her dying day.

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Every night, nightmares tormented the widow. Sometimes memories of the Red Room and other times, even worse.

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The room was cold. The rain crashed against the window of that stormy night in Buenos Aires. But the cozy sound of the rain was suddlendly interrupted by the sound of gunshots; a young woman ran through the corridors of that building trying to cover herself.

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“I'm going, you take them.” she told the redhead, pointing to the people they were trying to protect and get out alive from that floor.

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"I'm not going to leave you here all alone, I came to help you." Natasha assured shaking her head.

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“Please, Sam, tell her…” Y/N swallowed and took courage, more than ever, remembering why she had joined S.H.I.E.L.D. And she thought about telling Natasha so many things, thought about sending her endless messages, but the brunette just ignored it. The Black Widow wouldn't be interested in knowing anyway. “Thank you, Sam.”

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Without further ado, Y/N raised her weapons and battled in that hallway with every watchdog that crossed her path. Even though Natasha tried to take her arm, the hand passed through Y/N as if she were intangible. ㅤㅤ

All she could do was watch as Y/N confronted them with gunshots and hand to hand, beating as many as she could. And every time they fell, Y/N was shot. First in her abdomen, and still, she didn't stop.

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Two more fell, until another bullet went through her leg and shoulder.

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And despite the pain, and the blood that began to trickle down her lips, she kept shooting and fighting until one of the bullets pierced her chest.

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But Natasha couldn't do anything, see everything and not be able to do anything was killing her. The screaming and crying, no one could hear her.

But at the end of that fight, no Watchdog was left alive, and that made Y/N smile slightly before falling to the ground.

ㅤㅤ “Please, save me.” Y/N barely asked, chocking on the blood.

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“I'll do it. Please, моя любовь, stay with me.” Natasha begged, pressing the wound on her belly and chest. So much blood, so many shots, it was impossible for her not to start bleeding to death. The redhead began to despair in tears.

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Natasha looked into those beautiful but sad eyes, Y/N’s eyes started to lose that lovely glow. But Y/N looked at her whispering: “You can’t do it... You sent me here to die.”

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“What?” The spy shook her head and quickly stammered: “No, don’t say that.”

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“You killed me first.” Before she could say anything, Y/N took one more breath before finally dying. Her gaze lost, the red on her body contrasting with the skin, and that red hourglass pendant on her chest reminded Natasha that she had caused the damage.

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“No, no, no, please… stay!” Natasha tried to wake her up, but she was the one who did it when a thunder finally woke her up from that nightmare.

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The redhead sat on the bed, looking around the dark room. The window in front of her showed the huge and vast forest that surrounded the Compound and the lightning in the sky.

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Another nightmare, again.

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Like every day, Natasha got up and showered before going down to the kitchen so she could drink a steaming cup of coffee. The russian looked at herself in the mirror, stroking that little moon under her ear. That small tattoo that had been done long ago in Y/N's memory. Y/N always reminded her that when she was born, there was a beautiful waning moon.

Her mornings were silent until the others began to wake up, the only one she sometimes used to join was Wanda.

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Wanda, who at first hated her deeply. The sokovian kept reminding her that Y/N's death was in her hands, and how much she hurted her.

But as the days and weeks passed, Wanda realized that Natasha was also suffering in her own way. The Black Widow’s thoughts were really overwhelming, so much so that Wanda had to get away from her in order to deal with her own pain.

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Two years later, they maintained a nice friendship. Pain brought them together like never before, but none of them finished healing.

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Clint was by her side too, he never abandoned Nat even though she didn't want to ruin his happiness with his family.

But then the world changed, and with it came chaos.

Thanos attacked, the world fell into desolation, her friends and sister left, leaving Natasha Romanoff even more alone.

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Why? why keep fighting? She wondered that a thousand times, trying to keep the Compound going.

That strong and seductive woman, so sure of each step she took, was beginning to fall behind. Although she always felt, she just didn't feel she deserved it.

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Those hard green eyes now showed absolute sadness. But suddenly, in the most darkest place, there was a hope. A tiny scrap, like a captivating little glow, just had to fight again.

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Fight and they’ll be back.

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She owed it to Y/N, her best friend was victim of the snap. The least she could do was save Yelena and Wanda. Just had to take a little trip back in time and everything, everything would be fine.

ㅤㅤ

“We lost family. We lost a part of ourselves. Today, we have a chance to take it all back.” Steve told each of them but mostly, he fixed his gaze on Nat who nodded. He was her closest friend all these years.

ㅤㅤ

“You know your teams. You know your missions. Most of us are going somewhere we know, that doesn't mean we should know what to expect.” Nat added and they all stood at that machine, ready to go. “We're gonna win. Whatever it takes.”

ㅤㅤ

Minutes after having lived the strangest trip of their fucking lives, Steve, Bruce, Natasha and Clint appeared in 2012 New York, where they would try to steal the scepter but everything got a bit messy.

ㅤㅤ

Without the scepter and the tesseract, the best plan was to go back in time to the perfect place to find tjem.

Steve and Tony would go to 1970, to look for the tesseract and pym particles. Natasha and Clint, to the last place they saw the scepter and the pym particles as well.

ㅤㅤ

Once Clint and Nat appeared in the Compound several years ago, they looked at each other.

ㅤㅤ

2016.

ㅤㅤ

“Ready?” Clint asked as the quantum suit disappeared, both of them wearing rather usual clothing. They both had pretty good alibis, Natasha was on a personal mission and Clint was away with his family for a week.

ㅤㅤ

They both walked through the place in a certain hurry, going completely unnoticed. None of the agents seemed surprised to see them.

ㅤㅤ

“I’ll go for the scepter, you take the particles." Clint muttered, taking the opposite corridor. The plan was simple, she had to go to the labs and take the particles that Scott kept in the vaults. Easy.

ㅤㅤ

After taking them and smiling to see how Bruce was busy trying to understand something on the screen, Natasha left the lab with a victorious smile.

They would go home and bring everyone with them.

ㅤㅤ

But what she least expected was to bump into someone while crossing the hall. The particles were about to crash to the ground, but the widow was faster and caught them instantly.

ㅤㅤ

“Fuck!” Y/N grumbled picking up her stuff, the coffee she was carrying stained on the papers that she now had to sign again. “Oh, sorry, Agent Romanoff.”

ㅤㅤ

Those words seemed so empty, Natasha looked up to see nothing more than the stripping of what her beloved had been. The dark circles, the sadness in those eyes. Especially when she saw Natasha smile happily as she left the laboratory where Bruce was.

ㅤㅤ

Natasha finally remembered, she spent those two weeks avoiding Y/N, trying not to deal with the decisions she made. Oh, of course Nat remembered that day, because it was a day before Y/N died.

ㅤㅤ

She was alive. Y/N was still alive.

ㅤㅤ

‘Nat, what are you doing? You know you can’t-’

ㅤㅤ

But Natasha completely ignored Clint's voice in the earpiece, she felt her heart beating so fast again, fought hard not to come closer and hug Y/N tightly. She fought the urge to tell her that she loved her, that her wounded heart was hers and that in years, she wasn’t able to let her go. And never would. She fought the urge to tell Y/N, finally confess, that she was the love of her life.

ㅤㅤ

“It’s okay, I was able to catch them.” Natasha murmured, trying to calm herself down and look like it was nothing.

ㅤㅤ

Y/N nodded and then stared at redhead for a moment, frowning. Her gaze fell on that little moon on her neck, finally encouraged to ask: “Did you dye your hair tips blonde?”

ㅤㅤ

Nat swallowed, clearly having forgotten that over time, things changed. Y/N never experienced the events that she did. What she least expected was that someone would notice the blonde tips of her red hair.

ㅤㅤ

“Oh yeah, I was... trying something.” The russian spy cleared her throat and looked away, putting the particles away without Y/N noticing.

ㅤㅤ

“Interesting.” Almost like an imperceptible whisper, Y/N realized that Natasha couldn't even look at her.

Did she hate her guts that much? Did Natasha ever really loved her? She couldn't even see Y/N's face after dumping her.

It was so painful, seeing her so beautiful and impossible. Not like a crush, this time, much worse.

ㅤㅤ

‘Natasha, we have to go now.’

ㅤㅤ

“Okay, I have to go.” Natasha walked away from her, leaving Y/N behind one more time. And every step she took was the most painful; a stab to her heart. But what if…?

ㅤㅤ

“Y/N?” She turned. “Watchdogs mission tomorrow?”

ㅤㅤ

‘Natasha, don’t do it.’ Clint again.

ㅤㅤ

“You can't go, I will take you off the list.” The russian said with a coolness that sent a chill down her own spine.

ㅤㅤ

“What? Why?!” Y/N approached frowning, quite shocked. It was an incredible opportunity, this mission would be the one that would save her from the dark pit she was in right now. “I've been working on that mission with Sam for a while. You can't do that!”

ㅤㅤ

“You need to stay here, look at those fucking dark circles you have there. You’re ineffective like this.” Natasha acted in the coldest way she could, this time, feeling her heart break as she saw Y/N's eyes filled with tears. She could see her chin twitch and it felt horrible. “Tomorrow's operation is important and you need to rest. You're staying at the Compound until the end of the week.”

ㅤㅤ

Natasha started walking towards the exit, using one of Stark tech's pads to disable Y/N from the mission, but the brunette didn't stay there. Y/N followed after her, pissed off.

ㅤㅤ No one could go over Romanoff's orders, if she didn't authorize it, Y/N wouldn't go.

ㅤㅤ

“You can't do that. I need it!” y/n begged, swallowing the bitterness in her throat. “Natasha, look at me. You coward! Look me in the face!”

ㅤㅤ

Natasha tried not to show her feelings, and it was getting harder and harder. Y/N steps forward to look at the redhead but the redhead doesn't even look at her eyes at all.

ㅤㅤ

“You can step on me and treat me like shit, but inside I know very well that one day you will realize what you are doing… and it will be too late. You'll regret it.” Y/N said from the depths of her being, knowing that it was anger and bitterness that spoke.

ㅤㅤ

“I already did, my love.” Nat whispered, closing her eyes, quickening her pace to get to the Hangar.

ㅤㅤ

Y/N stayed behind, looking more broken than ever. The last thing Natasha heard was: “You can't take everything from me!”

ㅤㅤ

Once Natasha realized that Y/N was no longer around, she allowed herself to lean behind one of the quinjets and shed a few tears. The spy pressed her lips together and closed her eyes trying to calm down.

She kept hugging herself for a moment until some footsteps made her jump, ready to attack.

ㅤㅤ

“Hey, it’s me.” Clint came out of hiding carrying the scepter. “Did you see her?”

ㅤㅤ

Nat said nothing, just wiped away her tears with the sleeve of her suit.

ㅤㅤ

“You did it.” The archer narrowed his eyes, knowing that woman perfectly. “You told her not to do it, right? You told her not to go.”

ㅤㅤ

“I pulled her off the mission.” Nat pouted a little. “She's not physically or mentally ready to go, and Steve will never let her go if he sees what I wrote.”

ㅤㅤ

Clint just sighed deeply. “You're a bit of a bitch. Now you broke her heart a bit more.”

ㅤㅤ

“But at least she'll be alive. I can't go back and make everything between us didn’t happen.” Natasha sniffled. “But I can change one thing... I know I can't stop her from hating me, but I can stop her from dying. And you know if you were me, you would too.”

ㅤㅤ

Shaking his head, Clint looked around.

Nat was right, right now he was risking everything to bring his family back. Could understand Natasha perfectly.

ㅤㅤ

“I know.” The archer looked at her worriedly and then nodded. “And if it doesn't work? What if she dies days later? Or weeks or months later?”

ㅤㅤ

“At least I have tried.” She said with her shaky voice, lips quivering for a moment.

ㅤㅤ

And although he had known Natasha for a long time, Clint would never have thought that he would see her that way. She was a badass, and cold sometimes but also a very sweet and kind woman, perhaps because Clint never thought he would see Natasha Romanoff in love.

Clint came over to hug her for a moment.

ㅤㅤ

Smiling slightly, he said: “Whatever it takes.”

ㅤㅤ

After a few minutes, everything was ready, they disappeared. Finally coming back to the present.

ㅤㅤ

Finally they managed to bring back everyone, Bruce was injured but slowly he began to recover.

Natasha walked through the Compound, smiling and seeing how everyone was reunited with coworkers, friends and loved ones.

ㅤㅤ

The redhead shed a few happy tears when Yelena's call came within minutes of Bruce making the snap. Natasha took some time to explain, but she was much calmer knowing that the blonde would soon arrive in the quinjet to the Compound. She posed in front of the huge window, feeling an enormous peace after the chaos.

ㅤㅤ

In the distance, a brunette approached her to melt into a strong hug. Wanda shed a few tears, happy to see Nat again and of course sad. One of her best friends, Vision, died and it was too recent for her.

ㅤㅤ

“Thank you.” Wanda sighed and dried her tears. “Thanks for all you did.”

ㅤㅤ

“You don't have to thank. You are family.” Natasha squeezed her shoulder and then hesitated whether to tell her. “I need to tell you something. Something I did...”

ㅤㅤ

The Black Widow just turned to look out the window. Didn't know what kind of consequences would bring, or if there wouldn't be any, but she had to share it.

Nat took some time to explain everything they had done. Going back to the past, stealing the stones and especially, the part where she altered that day in Y/N’s life.

ㅤㅤ

How she broke her heart once more, just to save Y/N’s life.

ㅤㅤ

“Are you sure about this?” Wanda asked when she noticed the concern in the widow’s eyes. Of course, if it was the other way around, Wanda would have done exactly the same thing, maybe worse.

ㅤㅤ

“I tried to warn her. That day.” Natasha watched as one of the quinjets landed in the hangar. The same hangar where she last saw Y/N.

Dead in her arms, and then, alive. “She was so sad, it was the day before the mission.”

ㅤㅤ

Natasha looked down, her heart aching just remembering it. “What if I made it worse?”

ㅤㅤ

Wanda sighed, remembering Y/N and everything they had suffered because of her death. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could be worse than that.

ㅤㅤ

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., we need to know something...” The sokovian finally took courage, approaching one of the screens on the walls. Natasha frowned but followed her anyway. “Give us all the information you can find about Y/N Y/L/N, please.”

ㅤㅤ

Natasha closed her eyes, steeling herself for what was to come. Praying that whatever God was above would help her.

ㅤㅤ

“Of course, Ms. Maximoff.” F.R.I.D.A.Y took a moment to search for it and within seconds, they looked at the information on the screens.

They saw how many images of Y/N appeared on the screen, as an agent or from her past; Natasha couldn't help but sigh.

ㅤㅤ

Finally everything stopped showing the agent file.

ㅤㅤ Y/N Y/L/N. S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent CLEARANCE LEVEL: FIVE -Operations- STATUS: UNKNOWN.

ㅤㅤ

That made Natasha's heart skip a beat.

ㅤ

“Y/N Y/L/N. Born in…” the AI started revealing the personal information it could find in the reports, until it got to the most important part. “Currently living in Buenos Aires.”

ㅤㅤ

“It worked.” Natasha sighed in disbelief, now her eyes are filled with hope after so long. They both smiled and looked at each other happily. “It really worked.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

What to do? What to say?

ㅤㅤ

All those questions were driving her crazy. Wanda was too insistent that she should go see her, and despite the fact that Natasha wished with all her being to meet again with who she knew was the love of her life, she doubted.

She doubted even now, being right now in front of that wooden door, the house number was the one that F.R.I.D.A.Y indicated to them, everything was fine. But she wasn't okay, she wasn't being herself.

ㅤㅤ

Fuck, she wasn't the same since Y/N died.

ㅤㅤ

But the moment her finger pressed the doorbell, Natasha finally knew what fear was. As her anxiety devoured her slowly like a wild animal. When the door opened, Natasha Romanoff knew she was living again at last.

ㅤㅤ

“Hola.” That woman said in a cute spanish with a soft voice. Y/N didn't look surprised to see Nat there, especially with the chaos of ‘the blip’.

ㅤㅤ

“Hi.” Natasha gasped when she saw Y/N in front of her. Hearing her voice again was so... shocking. Natasha had to make herself strong not to cry.

ㅤㅤ

“Come in.” The brunette stepped aside.

The little house in that part of town was lovely, quite nice, that's what Nat thought as she looked around.

ㅤㅤ

Especially when she turned to see her, Y/N was alive. Being more beautiful than ever, had to admit that. The hair was longer, she clearly was no longer the same girl as before, besides that now she was years older.

ㅤㅤ

“What brings the Black Widow into my house?” Y/N walked towards the kitchen, noticing that the redhead was following her steps. “I have seen what you did, brought everyone back. That’s amazing.”

ㅤㅤ

Nat smiled a bit and leaned against the kitchen counter. “I didn't do it alone, we all did it.”

ㅤㅤ

“Oh, don't be so humble, Romanoff. You know you did it.” Y/N turned to look at her. “Tea or coffee?”

ㅤㅤ

“Coffee is fine.” The redhead looked at the place carefully, she could see some photographs but there didn't seem to be anyone else in her life. “So... What happened to your life all these years?”

ㅤㅤ

Y/N sighed deeply as she poured two steaming cups of coffee, handing one to Nat. In the background, on the Tv, the journalists showed that people went out to celebrate in the streets. Happy to be back.

ㅤㅤ

“I left S.H.I.E.L.D. years ago…” Y/N drank some coffee and stood in front of Nat, seeing how much she's changed. The blonde tips revealed everything she needed to know right now, now everything made more sense. “But you already know that, don't you?”

ㅤㅤ

“Y/N…” Natasha whispered.

ㅤㅤ

“I left S.H.I.E.L.D. because the mission in which I was supposed to be that day, here in Buenos Aires, two agents that I appreciated very much died.” Y/N set the cup aside. “Strange, isn't it?”

ㅤㅤ

Natasha didn't know what to say, Y/N always been so cunning and start. It wasn’t very difficult to understand.

ㅤㅤ

“Oh, but you don’t know that.” Y/N took a step forward with her arms crossed. “Because you traveled back in time and altered my life.”

ㅤㅤ

Even though Y/N looked quite serious, she didn't look very happy or very upset by what she was saying. "What happened there with me so that you changed everything?"

ㅤㅤ

But even so, Natasha never looked down this time. She didn’t regret what she did, in fact, the widow believed that she had made the best decision of her life, would do it again as many times as necessary.

ㅤㅤ

“I did what I had to do to save you.” The redhead narrowed her eyes and then drank some coffee.

ㅤㅤ

“You were so fucking irresponsible, Romanoff.” Y/N crossed her arms.

ㅤㅤ

“Oh, was I?” Nat scoffed.

ㅤㅤ

But after a moment of silence, they both smiled at each other knowingly. Like two old souls meeting again.

ㅤㅤ

Natasha licked her lips, curious. “But… How did you know?”

ㅤㅤ

“Oh, well... It seemed strange to me when I saw that you came back to the Compound later you had your red hair, no blonde tips and not that... tiny moon tattoo on your neck, behind your ear.” Y/N pointed to her neck. ㅤㅤ

Nat just raised an eyebrow and drank again, saving herself from having to answer.

ㅤㅤ

“You took too long.” Y/N walked into the living room, turning off the tv so she could put on some music.

ㅤㅤ

“I love you, Y/N.” The redhead said, making Y/N stop and turn to look at her really surprised. “I loved you, all these years without you... You have no idea what it means to lose you.”

ㅤㅤ

Nat's lips trembled once more at just remembering it. Because now, all those experiences, they only lived in her, in her memories and in her heart.

ㅤㅤ

“I saw your body, and I couldn't do anything but feel my heart tear apart as it beat.” She swallowed, the black widow wiped away a small tear that escaped. “You have no idea how much I suffered without you all these years.”

ㅤㅤ

Nat approached and cradled Y/N's face in her hands, who looked at the widow so moved. Oh, she was no longer cold, Y/N’s face was no longer cold. Tears filled Natasha’s eyes and she allowed herself to smile. She was no longer cold anymore.

ㅤㅤ “I love you, заяц.” The redhead said with a shaky hoarse voice. “I love you very very much.”

ㅤㅤ

Finally, Natasha kissed those warm lips, melting into the most awaited and needed kiss of their lives. Seven years without her, hurt like never before.

A kiss that began slowly, full of love and deep sadness, and ended as a passionate encounter.

ㅤㅤ

Y/N wrapped around the redhead's neck, making that kiss more passionate when Natasha hugged her hips too. A kiss that ended in a big hug and tears from both of them.

ㅤㅤ “я тебя люблю.” Nat whispered, resting her forehead against her beloved's once more. But a noise at the bedroom door made them both separate.

ㅤㅤ

“I'm sorry. I’m just-” Y/N sighed and pursed her lips. “I’m not alone. I- I didn't tell you, I share my life with someone else.”

ㅤㅤ

Frowning, somewhat hurt, Natasha turned away and looked towards the door. She was ready to fight for that woman, against whoever the fuck she was, Nat wasn't going to let Y/N go easily.

ㅤㅤ

“Oh.” She muttered when she saw that Y/N was approaching the door and shifted in her place, a bit nervous. “I didn’t know-”

ㅤㅤ

But when the door finally opened, an adorable and cunning black cat walked elegantly out of the room. The cat rubbed against Y/N's legs, using its best weapon of manipulation to get some food.

ㅤㅤ

“This is Luna.” Y/N smiled and walked towards the cupboard to take one of the cans of cat food and Luna's bowl. “Natasha, Luna. Luna, Natasha.”

ㅤㅤ

Feeling her soul coming back to her body, Nat just smiled and leaned in to slowly bring her hand closer to the cat. “She’s cute.”

ㅤㅤ

Luna narrowed her eyes and sniffed Nat’s hand before finally accepting her, rubbing against the widow’s legs. Adopting Natasha Romanoff as her own as well.

ㅤㅤ

Out of the corner of her eye, Y/N saw how silent fireworks lit up the sky in the distance, so she turned off the lights so that the place would be illuminated by them.

On the radio, you could hear one of your favorite songs.

ㅤㅤ

‘If I could turn the page... In time then I'd rearrange just a day or two.’

ㅤㅤ

“Do you want to eat Chinese?” Y/N smirked, taking a step forward to give a new start to both of their lives. “I don't feel like cooking and we have a lot to talk about.”

ㅤㅤ

‘...but I couldn't find a way, so I'll settle for one day to believe in you. Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies.’

ㅤㅤ

Natasha's eyes filled with tears one more time when she saw Y/N's face illuminated by those beautiful colors, red, purple, blue. Her kind smile, her gaze, her lips, her nose.

So full of life, so hers.

Thanks to whoever it is for this new opportunity.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Yes, I would like that. I would like very much.” Nat finally smiled. “I love you.”

ㅤㅤ

So, you guys wanted a happy ending. And I tried to do my best to steal a smile from you. 🌼

Hope you liked it, even if you decided to stay with the 'sad' ending.

ㅤㅤ

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader

197 notes · View notes

anonymousoneshots · 1 year

Text

Thing For Me (Part 2)

Roman Reigns x Reader

Rating: 18+ NSFW

Warnings: Fingering, Teasing

A/N: Might make this a series. Thoughts? Suggestions? Find part one here.

Tags: @pusiqw

The door clicks shut behind you as you drop your bag and kick off your shoes, trying to find air to fill your lungs. You glance around your suite, expecting a sense of relief at the security of finally being in the safety of your room. Instead, you notice the emptiness and the hollow feeling in your stomach that formed as he was walking away from you. As your heart rate slows, you let out a frustrated sigh and sit on the edge of the king size bed. Big enough for two.

Because what you really want is to be destroyed. You close your eyes as you remember his words, feeling his breath once again trace your ear. You throw yourself back with a huff, his grin flashing in your mind. You’re thinking about the flex of his biceps as he pressed you against the wall, the way his eyes looked you up and down with hunger. You could hear that teasing whisper. Heat flushes every inch of your skin at the memory. You open your eyes and stare up at the ceiling.

Fuck. You sit up and glance at the door, knowing right where leaving through it will take you. You know from the moment you rise from your position on the bed where you’re heading. Slipping your feet one by one back into your heels, you reach for the door knob. There’s no going back. You exit the room, letting desire lead you down the hallway. You faintly hear the click of your door shutting somewhere behind you. It’s like an alam in your head, warning you of what’s to come. Of the mess you’re about to get into. The next door that clicks shut will indeed be the start to a dangerous game.

Room 1547. You raise your hand to knock, hesitating before your knuckles make contact with the door. No turning back. You lightly knock on the door three times, taking a small step back and waiting. It’s treacherous. The silence in the hallway is deafening, each beat of your heart like a tick of a clock. What feels like minutes is just a matter of seconds as the door swings open and he’s standing there.

He has his shirt off, fresh from the shower, and his grey sweatpants are hanging low on his hips. His hair is dripping water onto his chest, his tattoos glistening under the droplets. He places an arm against the door frame, the muscles flexing as he shifts his weight. Your eyes are trailing the waistline of his pants, dancing over the artwork on his body. Finally looking up at his face, you sense the smugness pulling at his lips.

“What can I do for you?” He says by way of greeting, his eyes burning into your own. You feel like you might collapse under the question. Shit. You tear your eyes away from his gaze, glancing towards the room beyond. The smell of sandalwood trails out of the bathroom, lingering on his body.

“I-“ you start.

“Tell you what, [y/n], why don’t you come in and we can talk about it,” he cuts you off, stepping aside and holding the door open for you, his gaze unfaltering. You step past him unsteadily into his suite, the mirror of yours. He shuts the door behind you and you once again hear that click. You step a bit farther into the room, making sure to not linger too close to the bed. Roman steps past you and walks over to the chair by the desk, sitting himself down and looking at you expectantly. Your body hums under his gaze.

“What can I do for you?” He once again dares you, lust storming in his eyes. A thundering, beckoning, disastrously beautiful storm. He smirks and leans forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. His stare has you in a chokehold. You swallow nervously and meet his eyes, your own lust lacing through your abdomen, snaking down your spine, burrowing into your core.

“You invited me here, Roman. What can I do for you?” You challenge.

“Here’s what you can do for me, [y/n]. Slide those panties that I know are soaked down those beautiful legs and give them to me.”

Not a question, but a demand. Heat pools in your belly at that demand, as Roman leans back and relaxes his body, placing a large bicep over the back of the chair, no doubt in his mind that you’re going to do what you’re told.

“[y/n]. Don’t make me ask twice.”

Your heart is hammering as you slip your hands under your dress, gripping the sides of your black lace panties and slowly sliding them down your thighs. Roman was right, they were soaked. You let them drop to the floor from your knees, and step out of them, bending down to pick them up.

“Walk them over here,” he beckons you with his eyes and the bending of a finger, holding out his hand. You adjust your dress and oblige, walking towards him. When you reach the chair, standing in front of him, you gingerly drop them into his outstretched hand, unsure what to expect next. All you know is your body is brimming with need as Roman folds his fingers around the garment.

A low growl of approval sounds in his throat as he can smell you and feel your wetness on his fingers. You reach a hand forward to touch him, desperation leaking through your pores. Your hand lightly grazes the bicep of his arm before you rest it there and squeeze, feeling his muscle contract as he moves his arm towards you, resting his hand on your thigh. His touch sends a riptide of hunger through your body.

More. I need more. He drops your panties on the ground next to the chair, taking his other hand and placing it on your opposite thigh. He slides his hand along your skin, goosebumps forming under his touch. A small moan escapes your lips as his hands trail up, fingertips sliding under the hem of your dress. He keeps riding your dress up your thighs with his strong hands, but before you’re exposed, he pulls away and leans back, shrugging your hand off his arm.

“Why don’t you turn around and sit down.”

Again, phrased as a question, but you knew it was an order. Him directing you around was only turning you on more. You slowly turn around, feeling the slickness between your thighs with every movement. Roman places his hand on your hips and guides you into his lap. Your body leans into him, your head tilting back to rest on his shoulder as his left hand slides from your hip to rest on the bare part of your thigh.

“You wanna know what’s gonna happen?” He teases into your ear, his voice low. He draws lazy circles on your thigh with his thumb.

“Yes,” you respond, nearly a whisper.

His thumb is inching higher, now under the fabric of your dress. You instinctively spread your legs slightly, silently begging him to just touch you. He stops and slides his hand back down, resting it on your knee. You know Roman can read your body language, but still he’s just toying with you. You let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“You’re gonna cum for me as soon as I touch that throbbing pussy” he says smugly, his breath warm on your ear.

Your toes curl at the dirty words, and you press back into him, desperate for some friction. You can feel his cock hard behind you. Roman laces his finger through your hair and tugs your head back and to the side, exposing your neck. He leans forward and licks from the base of your ear to your collarbone.

“Roman,” you say breathily, bringing your own arm up and around his neck, tangling in his hair. You feel his cock twitch against you and the juice leak out of you as his thumb has again started to circle up your thigh and under your dress. You’re nearly panting with want now, trying to edge yourself closer to his teasing fingers. You feel air hit the wetness on your thighs and shudder.

“You want me to touch you, baby girl?” His hand is close enough to your core that you know he can feel what’s dripping out of you. The bastard is going to make you beg for it.

“Please, Roman.”

“Please, what? What can I do for you, [y/n]?” A small whine escapes your lips as you twist and try to get his fingers where you need them. His hand is steady and firm though as he grips your thigh and doesn’t move an inch.

“Touch me. Please,” you’re nearly pleading with him, the ache in your sex overwhelming. Roman releases his grip on you and slides his hand up, grazing your lips.

“Where, here?” He teases, lightly stroking your slit with his index finger. Fuck. You throw your head back, pleasure singing throughout your entire body. A deep moan escapes your lips. Roman tenses behind you at the sound, slipping his finger past your lips and making contact with your entrance. You can feel him watching the parting of your lips and flutter of your eyelids from the side as he dips his finger into you. You arch your back and gasp, wanting more. Almost like he can read your thoughts, he immediately slides another finger inside of you, slowly pumping in and out. You’re squirming in his lap, ragged breaths falling out of your mouth as you take in the sensation of his fingers filling you.

His fingers pump faster, hitting deeper. Your now writhing in his grasp, moans filling the large rom. You were going to come undone. All it would take is one more-

“Fuck,” you rasp, and your eyes shoot open as Roman moves his thumb to your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure and movement. A wave of pleasure rips through your belly as you find release, moaning and cursing as your walls pulse and tighten around Roman’s fingers. Your fingertips are tingling and your arms are heavy, as your head swims with clouds. You’re left a panting mess as your body slumps against him and he slips his fingers out, leaving you empty.

“There’s a good girl,” Roman whispers into your ear, praising you. He takes his fingers and raises them to his mouth, sucking your orgasm off.

“Damn, [y/n], I gotta taste more of that,” he husks. He abruptly lifts you into a standing position, leading you towards the bed from behind. He turns you around and pushes you back, leaving you breathless. Roman grips your legs by your knees and drags you to the edge, hiking your dress up as he pulls you towards him. You’re exposed to him, your pussy glistening with the remnants of your release a few moments ago.

Roman drops to his knees before you, drinking in the sight of you exposed. Once again an ache is building in your center at the sight of him before you. He has his hands resting on your hips, gripping your backside. You close your eyes as he licks his lips and leans forward, his mouth inches away from the pulsing in your clit.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

You’re startled out of your reverie at the banging on the door. You and Roman both look at it in alarm.

“Uce, where you at?” Jimmy’s voice sounds from behind the closed door. Roman swears under his breath and gets up from in front of you, adjusting himself before heading to the door. You scramble to pull your dress down and stand up from the bed, rushing over to the chair to pick your discarded panties off the floor. Roman unlocks the door and cracks it open.

“Me and Jey have been waiting, man, what are you doing in here?” Jimmy questions. You curse under your breath and remain hidden by the desk. Your stomach drops at the sound of Jimmy’s voice, nervous he’ll find out you’re in here. Backstage fraternization happens, but the women who participate in it always receive more backlash than the men. You didn’t want that kind of attention. Not to mention you were just hot and heavy with Roman minutes ago, and your body temperature couldn’t seem to cool. You weren’t sure you could play off why you were in this room if someone was to question you.

You escape your thoughts as you hear the door shut, Roman successfully dismissing Jimmy. He comes into view as he steps into the room. Your heart immediately skips and your stomach rolls, seeing him saunter back over to you with a playful grin.

“We almost got found out,” he says. You glance up at his face and notice how it’s dancing with amusement. Almost getting caught had been thrilling, you must admit. You smirk back at him, your cheeks flushed.

“Going somewhere with those?” He eyes the garment in your hand.

“No,” you reply, glancing down. He once again holds out his hand expectantly, and you place them in his hand, your fingers brushing his wrist, the light brush of skin all you needed for the ache to start again. You wanted to fall into him, inhale his scent and kiss his lips. You wanted to run your hands over every inch of his body. The air around you was rich with tension. Something was pulling you towards him like a moth to flame, and you just wanted more, more, more. You were so close to him. You look into his eyes and watch as his gaze drops to your lips. All you had to do was lean forward another inch to taste him. But he steps back, leaving the air around you empty, placing your panties in his pocket.

“Wait a few minutes after I leave before showing yourself out,” he says, walking away from you and to the bathroom to find his shirt. The man that was just so close to you, was suddenly so distant. You heart faltered a bit at the thought this didn’t mean anything to him. What did you do? Suddenly embarrassed and angry, you walk over to the bathroom entrance where Roman is slipping his shirt on.

‘Show myself out?” You say crossly, folding your arms over your chest. Roman gives you a dismissive glance, and sighs.

“That door you came in through? You also leave through,” he replies. Anger rose in your chest, and you let out a small laugh of disbelief. What was happening? Did he not feel that pull, the tension? He looks at you like he’d never hungered for you.

“Fine. Don’t think about asking me to come back,” you say. Not caring if Jimmy and Jey are waiting in the hall, you go to fling the door open and storm back to your room. You felt hurt and ashamed, and you needed out of this room. You hear Roman’s voice follow you to the door.

“I won’t need to. Once you have me, you’ll always come back.”

#reader insert #wwe x reader #fanfiction #one shot #wwe #fan fiction #fanfic #smut #wwe one shot #roman reigns x reader #x reader #x female reader

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babyangelsky · 3 months

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Color Moments in Two Worlds Episode 6

EVERYTHING IN THIS EPISODE HURT. SOMETIMES THERE ARE PARALLELS AND THOSE PARALLELS ARE JUST FUCKING PAINFUL BECAUSE THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES IS HOVERING OVER EVERYTHIIIIIINGGGGGUH

*gets self together* Okay. All right.

"You like Phupha!" Kram says to himself while thinking about his kiss with Tai and then immediately matching him.

Sure, sure, mhmm. You keep telling yourself that, mi cielo.

Tai's life briefly flashed before his eyes when he was greeted with this sight.

But there was no reason for him to worry because Phupha was not in fact debuting as a couple with Kram. He just wanted to give them some nice clothes so they could look pretty for the "thank fuck we didn't all die!" party he was throwing.

AND RIGHT BEFORE WE GOT THIS SHOT, MY BOY KRAM VALIDATED ME!

BECAUSE THEY DO MATCH! IT'S ALL ABOUT THE MATCHING! I'm counting this as a Clowned Correctly moment for me and no one can take it away.

We learned in the preview for this episode that Jao has an unrequited crush on Tai, but @respectthepetty and I are gonna need him to get it together because he's out here talking about it to Wayu while he's matching him.

(Side note: The subs make it seem like Jao actually has feelings for Kram but in the preview--which is hard subbed--he confirms the crush is on Tai)

AND THEY STILL AREN'T MAKING OUT ABOUT IT! JAO! LOOK IN THE MIRROR AND PICK UP WHAT THESE COLORS ARE PUTTING DOWN AND KISS THIS MAN.

Jao also matched Tai very briefly this week, on account of the unrequited feelings that have now been brought to light. He's trying to be there for Tai but Tai snaps at him because he preemptively broke up with Kram because he thinks Kram is about to leave him for Phupha. Which better not happen.

Tai apologizes and we appreciate that but really, this is a golden opportunity for Jao to run his cute little self right into Wayu's big strong arms. Which better happen. POR FAVOR!

And then everything just starts to fucking hurt because Kram goes looking for Tai after Phupha asks him to come with him to Bangkok (Kram I'm so serious, you better have told him no) but instead of finding Tai, he finds this.

LOOK FAMILIAR?

Jao drops by again and after seeing this painting, Kram finally asks what happened to his alternate self and we get a series of achingly sweet and painful flashbacks to alternate Kram's relationship with Tai. I can't be sure, but it's sort of implied that present Kram is remembering everything as we see it because he clutches his head.

Tai and his Kram met when Kram accidentally got caught in a tiger trap while trying to save a bunny, and as we all know he did, he immediately brought warmth to Tai.

And they immediately matched.

He finds Tai napping under a tree and paints him, then wakes him up when he hears thunder. Tai, in his cold blue, likes the painting and wants to buy it but Kram, in his warm yellow, tells Tai he'll give him the painting for free if Tai agrees to be his friend.

They do up getting caught in the rain and this isn't a color moment, but ya'll deserve to see Kram having a real normal one about wet shirtless Tai.

Kram is a BL Boy, therefore he has to get sick when it rains. Tai takes him to the doctor and Kram wakes up the next morning to see Tai has stayed by his side the whole night. As he looks at Tai sleeping, he is surrounded by Tai's blue.

While I begin to slowly bleed out, Tai tells Kram that he wants to be more than friends and offers Kram some of the same warmth Kram has brought into his life and asks Kram to come with him.

*through tears* Kram accepts and then they arrive at Tai's house--their house--with Kram dressed head to toe in Tai's blue.

*sobbing* They build this cozy peaceful life together where they do their laundry in the river and cook for each other and they're so in love, and Tai just keeps giving Kram his newly found warmth.

And it all culminates in Tai basically asking Kram to marry him with the biggest Heart Eyes in all creation and them having beautiful, joyous love-affirming sex absolutely bathed in warm light.

But let me tell you, noticing the way shots are framed is a blessing and a curse. Because as amazing and beautiful as this moment between Tai and Kram is, the show won't let us forget about the sword hovering above our heads.

It won't let us forget about the danger lurking outside this warm little bubble, or that it already told us how Tai and Kram's story was going to end.

#two worlds #two worlds the series #taikram #meta

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nev3rfound · 1 year

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does it get easier? : b.b

a few weeks have passed since Steve left to return to his old life, leaving those who loved him behind to try and carry on. but for some, it's easier said than done. (1.3k)

it's an angsty one, all I'll say.

masterlist / permanent taglist / etsy shop

Everyone could see the dark clouds swarming the sky, the never-ending wash of rain they brought with them for company, and the sight of you sitting outside with your head held low.

"It's still early days." Sam reasons, standing alongside Bucky and Wanda with heavy hearts.

The rolls of thunder quickly follow, but you barely flinch at the sound.

"She'll catch a cold if she stays out there." Carol sighs, emerging from the kitchen with a mug of coffee in her grasp before joining the trio to watch the glum view before them.

"Or pneumonia." Wanda huffs light-heartedly, still lost in her own mind to really focus on yours. "Bucky, why don't you go see her?" The witch suggests, and Sam glances out of the corner of his eye at the sight of Bucky tensing from the suggestion.

The former soldier shifts slightly on the spot whilst keeping an eye fixated on you at all times, noticing you tug on your jacket and your hand shaking.

"You're the only one she'll actually talk to." Sam adds, knowing it's true.

Out of everyone left, the only person you could honestly and openly confide in would be Bucky as he's all you have left of everything you knew.

Breathing out a yes, Bucky forces the door open and slips out. Before it's fully shut, his metal hand lingers. "Do you mind not watching this?" He asks, looking between the Avengers stood in front of him.

"But we're just getting to the good bi-" Sam starts, only to be jabbed by Wanda. "Sure." Clearing his throat, Sam curtly nods before walking away with Wanda and Carol, grumbling as he does.

Slowly, with his hands buried into his pockets, Bucky starts to walk toward you. He briefly stops, turning back around to see the others wearing disappointed expressions, notably still watching despite his previous request.

"Forgot this." Bucky motions to the umbrella as he slides the doors shut, waving the onlookers away, and this time, they reluctantly oblige.

In your peripheral vision, you can see someone approaching. Your ears perking at the sound of boots against the dewy grass, your hair sticking to you as droplets fall onto your jeans, soaking through to your bones. At this point, the coolness is like a second skin, it doesn't feel so bad after a while.

Suddenly the rainfall stops above you, yet you can still hear the delicate pattering and see it falling ahead. With a breath, your gaze lifts to see the large span of fabric covering you, and Bucky staring down back at you with a solemn expression.

"So," Bucky's tensing at his own words, unsure where his sentence is supposed to take him. "I was gonna try and make small talk, but I think we're a week past that, doll." Trying to lighten the mood, Bucky kneels beside you whilst your eyes stay fixated ahead at the courtyard.

"He always said he'd dance with me in there." A raspy voice unlike your own sounds, but you continue nonetheless. "Said we'd dress up all nice like we used to. Play some songs from the dance halls, you know the ones?"

Bucky nods, remembering those days all too well. You'd dance around without a care in the world, twirling in Bucky's arms whilst Steve remained a wallflower until you took his hand in yours. That was the first time Bucky saw a spark in little Steve's eyes, one that mirrored his own whenever he looked at you.

Bringing your legs to your chest, you avert your gaze from the courtyard, burying the thoughts. "Well, that'll never happen now. Stupid of me to even think about it now." Scolding yourself, Bucky shakes his head before sitting down on the damp grass.

"You know," He starts, furrowing his brows before continuing. "I always thought Steve was a terrible dancer."

And that's when Bucky hears it. The sound he's longed to hear that has been absent for weeks since Steve left.

Your hand rests on your face, trying to conceal your laughter with an ill attempt. "You can't say that!" You playfully nudge him, still smiling which hurts less than you anticipate.

Holding his free hand up in defense, Bucky shrugs his shoulders. "He was, always trippin' over his feet or getting stunned by all the dames. Unlike some." He adds, watching you roll your eyes at that.

"He tried his best." Your smile drops, picturing Steve with Peggy. "But sometimes best just isn't good enough, huh?" Tears return with ease to your eyes, pooling over the edge as the painful lump scratches at your throat.

Without a moment of hesitation, Bucky envelopes you into his arm, holding you into his chest. He knew his heart was beating faster than it should, but little did you know it was breaking into pieces at the sight of you like this.

"It's okay to miss him, doll. I know I do." Bucky admits, though there are thousands of things he would say to Steve if he could, knowing not all are as pleasant as others; the main question would be why leave you like this? Someone so perfect, so kind and caring. How could he leave you behind?

Sniffing, you bury your head further into Bucky and wrap your arms around him. You can remember the seldom occasions when you'd be like this with Bucky.

The first was when Steve was beaten up in the 30s for being different, you couldn't stand the sight then of his bloodied face. He ignored you when you tried to help, resulting in Bucky coming to your aid. The second time was when Bucky returned from the war alongside Steve. Everyone was looking at Steve, though he too had changed, something shifted in Bucky's gaze. Truth be told, you were relieved to have a friend back.

The third was when you woke up in a whole other world, unsure how you got there but saw a familiar face there ready to welcome you in open arms.

And the fourth, when Steve returned after returning the infinity stones. He had lived a long and happy life without either of you. The moment you saw the old man on the bench, your arms loosened from Bucky, and you haven't said a word until now.

"Does it ever get easier?" You dare to ask, the rain now easing up as the grey clouds begin to part ways, saying farewell for now. "To lose someone you love?"

Bucky allows the question to linger in front of him; his answer remaining on the tip of his tongue as his lips part. He misses seeing your smile, and the gleeful laughter you often shared together at the discussion of stories new and old. Yet, he always admired the glint in your eyes, saddened that it was always directed at someone else.

Easing his grip on your body, he sits upright, lowering the umbrella from above you both. "I'm still learning, doll." He sighs deeply, seeing your lip quivering before inhaling harshly. "But it'll get easier, I know it will."

"Yeah." Nodding along, you remove yourself from Bucky, unaware of the light fading from his eyes at the moment of the withdrawal. Forcefully wiping the stray tears away, you find yourself looking up at the sun shining down on you both. "At least we'll always have each other, yeah?" Your voice is laced with hope as you glance back to Bucky, who smiles softly at your words.

Rising to his feet, Bucky extends his hand to you which you gladly accept. With his other hand, Bucky reaches forward and brushes your damp hair from your face, wishing he could cradle your cheek in his hand before muttering his response. "I promise you doll, I'm not goin' anywhere."

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cloudofbutterflies92 · 5 months

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Tagged by the lovelies @socially-awkward-skeleton and @cassietrn 💚, I decided to bring the beginning of the first chapter of my fanfiction "Fire and Gasoline", nothing special but I wanted to show it

Taglist:@chloekistune @graveyard-party666 @alypink @kaitaiga @corvosattano @onehornedbeast @themotherofhorses @alexxmason @carlosoliveiraa @dickytwister @thewanderer-000 @thedeadthree @priceseyes @sinclxirx @simonxriley @marivenah @strangefable @captastra @aceghosts @kikiharinezumi @katsigian @voidika @captmactavish

Divider by @saradika-graphics

(Yes, she is wearing a blonde wig🤭💚)

London, May 13, 2022

The stride of her heels vibrated to the calculated movements of the young blond woman as she lent herself to reach the motel reception desk.

"I have an 'appointment with Mr. Ethan Fisher" she coquettishly announced to the receptionist "at your bar for tea."

Eden was perfectly cast in the role, stealing the identity of Fisher's client, one of Williard George's best friends and backer had been a joke. All it had taken was a little sleeping pill in the woman's coffee and she was kaput, and amazingly she even looked like her.

"There you are, Anita Morgan. You can have a seat, I'll call the customer right away."

"Very kind" in a melodious voice thanked the man, walking toward the dining area of the five-star hotel.

"You should teach me one day how to play mindless Ken" Ghost's voice from the invisible earpiece sojourned to her ears. He had offered to help her mostly out of a sense of protection for his girlfriend, standing in one of the rooms in front of the 'five-star hotel where the meeting would take place, with his trusty sniper rifle.

"You are too tough to be a Ken, at best you could be Action Man" Reggie, the hacking specialist gave his opinion. Bursting out laughing would not have been the 'most appropriate option. It would have blown up the whole 'operation.

"What's the situation like? The idiot is taking longer than he should."

"At the moment he seems clean, he is no longer in the room" Ghost updated on the situation.

"I still remember when at the orphanage I stole a Barbie and an Action Man to mate them. It was funny to see the look on that little bitch child's face" Reggie however paused not hearing Ghost and Eden speak. They were flabbergasted at how Reggie was talking about it.

Eden was about to say she was doing the same but a dapper man approached her, escorted by two bodyguards. Ethan Fisher, a fairly prominent broker from Canary Wharf.

"Anita, what a good wind" the elderly man sat down ordering a green tea "I thought your husband would show up this time."

"Usual engagements, you know being a broker requires" Eden took the mirror from her clutch bag "very busy" then stared at her reflection in it, from a distance she could see the bulky figure of Ghost, focused more than ever. At the same moment one of the bodyguards placed a briefcase in front of the woman, inside was several cash and documents.

"This is the evidence, Jeffrey has his back covered. And I really hope one of these days you can come over for dinner. Or watch some horse races. Letting that horse win was the fairest choice he could have made" the man''s thunderous laughter drew all the people in the restaurant.

Eden laughed probably, with the most fake laugh she could show but she had to act didn't she?

"And my husband Arthur will be pleased to come mon ami."

After a while the meeting between the two ended, with that handshake that would be Fisher's conviction and one more piece to prove George's guilt in 'backing Makarov.

"Glad to have seen you again Anita" the man shook Eden's hand, initially in a gentle way until he made her come dangerously close to him with that tug.Just in case Simon had his trigger at hand.

"I hope you can understand that if I go down you too will end up the same way."

She could have broken his arm but decided to play the frightened woman to be believable.

"Don't worry Mr. Fisher, you have my word that nothing will happen" with that renowned confidence Eden was left by the broker and joined by Ghost, playing her bodyguard.

"Nice mask, perfect for scaring" Fisher laughed. Ghost was between punching him and wanting to throw him into the first glass window possible, fortunately, however, the encounter between the broker and Eden ended in "tarallucci e vino" a famous Italian saying that meant in the best possible way.

Together the couple went outside, crossing that area as bodyguards and bosses to keep out of sight.

"That suit gives you 'too severe an air, you look like Judy Dench in 007" blurted out Simon as they reached the BMW courtesy of C, current head of MI6. An internal investigation could only be given with their consent.

"Shush, she's hot," she murmured between her teeth smiling, looking forward to having to conclude this sham set-up.

"Glad to know you are alive."

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ss-skyearn · 1 year

Text

Senses

PAIRING : Hwang Hyunjin x afab!reader

WORD COUNT : 6.5k

GENRE : Angst, Smut, Fluff

WARNINGS/CONTENT : past Seungmin x reader, mentioned cheating (not Hyunjin or reader), brief episode of anxiety.

SMUT WARNINGS : grinding, brief handjob, attempted fingering, biting, spitting, sweat licking (*insert that one taste fancam where he's dripping buckets*), dirty talk, breast play, switch!Hyunjin, switch!reader, exhibitionism, mirror kink (?), slight non-toxic sexual possessiveness, creampie, overstimulation (m. receiving), unprotected intercourse (do not try at home), desperate sex.

A/N : A rewrite of one of my very first pieces so definitely not my best work, but I'm getting back into the groove of writing after a break from it, so have this while I work on a bigger project I'll hopefully be able to announce soon enough. Enjoy, lovelies. ♡

Upon hearing that, he'd turn you around, coming behind, pressing his chest to your back. He'd take your hands in his own large ones, and stretch them outwards.

"Look up, love. Close your eyes, look up and feel."

You'd scoff, "Really, Hyunjin? The titanic pose? Thought you were a creative arts major."

He'd bend down, just a tad, enough that the next words he breathed out were coherent enough to reverberate in your head long after he was done saying them, "They call me the hopeless romantic for a reason."

Rain. Melancholy.

These words have always been synonymous to you. One notwithstanding without the other. Always hand in hand.

The forbidden mutually dependent pair.

It's one of those times, when the sky gods decided to quench the earth's thirst for rainwater.

You find yourself sitting behind the steering wheel, hands white knuckled with the sheer force with which you hold it, your motor neurons running a mile a minute.

Thinking of him.

You stare out the windscreen, noting the raindrops that trickle down, swirling and making mindless patterns. The pitter patter sounds bounce off it, echoing in your empty Sedan, refracting through every solid surface present, wanting to get out, but failing.

Miserably so.

Their condition isn't much different from your own, you suppose.

Trying to break free, frantic in your motions, colliding through this barrier and that, only to effectively be trapped. In your own being.

It still induces anxiety of the unadulterated kind within you.

The thought of him.

Your olfactory senses work overtime, looking for even faint traces, the solace that it's still somewhere. Somewhere far away, but there nonetheless.

The scent of him.

Your fingertips brush against the leather wheel cover, that even after being smoothed down to perfection, remains rough to your touch. Nothing compares to what you once felt, what you felt only once.

The feel of him.

Your tongue twirls around and hits your palate, staying there and caressing, finding, feeling, remembering.

The taste of him.

As calming and grounding as the resounding of the raindrops is, your ears stand on alert, detectable sound range reduced to micro-hertz, trying to pick up even the faintest of melodies. But none of them compare to the one that remains your favourite.

The sound of him.

The trees sway about, leaves dangling in the strong wind. Some fall off, carried to places foreign, twirling about in the small tornadoes created by the gush of breeze. But it just doesn't compare to what your orbs once witnessed.

The sight of him.

Your eyes try to make sense of the criss cross motifs that are littered across your windows, focusing on the partially dried out trail left behind by the raindrops long forgotten, having fallen onto the ground, as if their existence was to serve that mere purpose.

But, within your heart, you can find no remorse. For it has been filled to the brim ever since you've refused to let it go.

The memory of him.

A loud thunder jolts you awake from the downward spiral you find yourself in more often than not.

Almost always when it rains.

Looking around, you realise that the roads that were jam packed, just now, you swear, are completely empty.

In your panicked and half dazed state, the memory still lingering, you pull the car straight to the fourth gear and step on the race.

The engine roars, wheels turn but the car doesn't move an inch.

While you're trying to make sense of just what the hell is happening, your line of sight lands straight onto the clutch.

A trail of smoke slowly seeps out from just underneath it, the smell of burnt metal suddenly hitting you.

Well, fuck.

You look around trying to gauge where it is that you are. To your pleasurable horror, you have no idea where in the world this place is.

You've been in this city for a good three months, but never have you stumbled upon this particular nook. Looking around, you note that after the traffic has been cleared, the place is unnervingly empty. Save for the few cars parked on the other side of the walkway, you don't spot a single soul.

Seems like you might have blacked out far longer than you estimated.

The sombre music playing through your phone comes to an abrupt halt. You glance down, only to find the useless piece of metal glowing and shutting off, the apple logo mocking you.

Well, fuck— two times over.

It is fairly late, but back in your hometown, that was the central hub of nightlife, nights were always bustling with people. More so than the daytime.

The only sign of life you can make out is the dingy convenience store in the distance, branded by a neon sign missing a few letters. With the remaining letters flickering, it makes for the perfect picture of a fucking haunted house.

But beggars can't be choosers. Ironic, really.

Climbing out, you close your car door shut.

Thud.

Probably with much more force than necessary.

You march up to the convenience store, peering into it through the dusty windows, trying to see if anyone else is inside, gauging the general vibe, as such. For all you know, it might actually be more dangerous inside than it is out here.

But fortunately, or unfortunately, you aren't sure, you spot a couple giggling and sharing a piece of croissant. It looks stale at best, dried crumbs barely holding onto the crust, making for a sad excuse of a pastry.

You know you're projecting. The poor pastry never did anything to you, to the memories crawling all over your brain, but you need an outlet.

Better an inanimate object than the couple who make you consider homicide.

Trying to contain your sudden murderous turmoil, you creek open the door and enter in. The inside of the store isn't nearly as crusty as the outside, something you're grateful for.

Not trusting yourself to glance at the couple, who you assume are busy with each other's mouths, if the smacking noises are something to go by, you make a beeline for the shelves.

Skimming through the various items sprawled on them, you aren't sure what you want. Hell, you aren't even sure if you want it.

You rummage about the store, staring at products but never really looking, your senses still on high alert and acutely aware of the rain that still rages outside with full force.

It was his favourite time of the year. Whenever it rained, he would pull you from under any shade you tried to shield yourself with, only to place you right under the downpour.

"Hyunjin!" you'd shout.

"Just let go, love. Live a little," he would say through a giggle.

"How is getting drenched living!?"

Upon hearing that, he'd turn you around, coming behind, pressing his chest to your back. He'd take your hands in his own large ones, and stretch them outwards.

"Look up, love. Close your eyes, look up and feel."

You'd scoff, "Really, Hyunjin? The titanic pose? Thought you were a creative arts major."

He'd bend down, just a tad, enough so that the next words that he breathed out were coherent enough to reverberate in your head long after he was done saying them,

"They call me the hopeless romantic for a reason."

Wetness suddenly makes itself known. You lift up the heel of your palm and roughly wipe off the tears that fall down your cheeks. But they keep coming, one after the other, trailing patterns on your skin, much like the raindrops did on your car window.

By the time you've calmed down, you look around to notice that the couple has left, their half eaten croissant laying on the counter.

Guess they had urgent matters at hand.

You're still trying to figure out your next game plan, about how you're going to get home, when your eyes land on the ramen section. The new flavour everyone's been raving about sits in the middle and as if on cue, your stomach rumbles. You realise you're suddenly very hungry.

The crying was worth something at least.

Taking one of the cups, you move toward the dining section of the store. Making quick work of cooking the noodles, you take a seat by the counter, physically seating yourself as far away from that darn half eaten croissant as you can.

In your hungry enthusiasm, you promptly choke on the spice level your dehydrated state was not ready for, and make a run for the milk section. Just as you're about to reach for your saviour, you collide with something— someone.

"Hey, are you okay?"

You look up and your anger at the couple, the hunger, the burn of your tongue, everything is forgotten. For the person who stands in front of you is no stranger.

It's him.

And he's touching you.

After making sure you're stabilised, he withdraws his hands from your arms and looks up, worry written all over his face.

You see as recognition dawns on him, as his eyes do a double take to make sure he isn't making this up, as his lips part to make way for a silent but evident gasp.

"It's you," he breathes out.

You put both your hands behind your back and clutch them together, mostly because you don't know what to do with them, and partly because it's you trying to appear nonchalant, even with the way your heart is thumping away.

"And it's you."

You know how silly you sound but that's just the charm of Hwang Hyunjin. He makes you silly.

He sweeps his hands through his hair, and as your eyes follow the motion, you take note of his hair for the first time.

"You changed your hair colour."

"Huh?" His hand falls off his hair.

It's your best attempt at a filler statement. Your way of saying that, no, I wasn't thinking— crying over you, over us.

"Yeah. I guess I did."

He moves back to the stove, and begins stirring his ramen a little awkwardly, failing to appear unbothered. His body language tells you he's uncomfortable, that he's very carefully planning out his next moves.

"Well, I was just having my break." He says. You're not sure why he's telling you this in lieu of a greeting, a formality, anything really, but all things considered, this might be his own attempt at a filler statement.

"Well then, enjoy."

Just as you're about to walk off, you hear a gentle voice,

"Leave after you eat. Please."

His voice sounds a lot like himself now. Clearer. More sure of itself.

Just like you remember.

And that shatters your heart further, for you can remember what that voice said to you in passing instances, in hushed whispers between all the chaos, in moments of vulnerability under the sheets.

You turn around and simply look at him, finally allowing yourself to really look.

In the two years that you haven't seen him, he's changed a lot, you note.

His hair is much longer, blonde and slightly wavy, face slimmer, cheeks hollowed out, jawline more defined. Lips pink and plumper than you remember ever appreciating, for a moment you let your mind wonder, think about if they would still feel the same against yours.

"I mean, your ramen.." he trails off and that's when you notice you had just been staring at him. That also makes you realise how apparent you have made that you don't want to exist in the same space as him.

"Um, I can eat it in my car. No worries."

"It's raining out. They'll get cold. Just eat here. I'll go to the back room or something."

A beat.

"If you want me to," he adds quickly, voice once again taking on the same note it had when his eyes first landed on you.

You want to hear that gentle tone once again.

"Eat with me," you blurt out.

He looks at you with a baffled look, and then, slowly but surely, you see a smile stretch its way on his pretty face and you feel fit to cry all over again.

"Alright, then. Go start. They're getting soggy."

You make your way over to where your cup lies, but hunger suddenly evades you. You stare blankly at the noodles drowning in the red soup and it just reminds you of your heart drowning in your sorrow.

Sorrow for the man who is making his way over to you, the man who is handing you—

Chocolate milk?

"You forgot to get it," he chuckles.

You're simultaneously flustered, and awed that he's still so attentive. Even after all that time.

He sits down next to you, and with the warmth radiating off him, you get a waft of his scent.

"Is that sandalwood?"

"In the, the.. ramen?"

You holler with laughter, "Why would there be sandalwood in ramen?"

"I don't know, you tell me!" he says, his shoulders rising up, face scrunched in exaggerated playfulness.

Ah, the dramatics. Glad they haven't changed.

"No, I meant your cologne. It's different now."

You say before you can stop yourself, only to immediately regret it.

The light atmosphere that was created, with struggle, if you were to pick apart a little, is gone as quickly as it came, and his eyes take on an austere look.

"Yeah. You liked it."

You tilt your head.

"You used to compliment me on how nice I always smelled and over time, I came to associate that scent with you."

I have an idea of where this is going and I don't like it.

"It reminded me of you. So I had to change it."

The way he says he had to change it, tightens the knot in your heart.

You clear your throat and stuff your face, to not say something you'll regret, again.

And choke, again.

You reach out for the milk, but he snatches it away, standing up and coming behind you,

"Don't drink when you're coughing, it'll worsen it. Look up for me."

You do, and he begins rubbing your back, counting out for you,

"One, two, three, in. Four, five, out. There. That's it. Breathe."

Even after he's done guiding you through it and you've caught your breath, he stays there, with his hand on your back.

"Um, thanks."

That seems to do the trick, as he quickly retracts his hand and slides back onto the bench beside you, a little further away than he was before.

You resist the urge to slide and make that distance the same again.

Maybe even less.

"So, convenience store, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Do you always work late night shifts?"

"Not really. I work whenever one of the part timers isn't able to make it."

The wording; 'one of the part timers', makes you think—

"Yeah, I own the place."

But what about—

"I'm mastering in creative arts, still. This is just a side thing."

Oh, that makes sense.

"I know," he continues.

"Wait, how do you know what I'm think—"

He laughs out loud, "Man, I love how you don't have a filter, even now. I still can read you from your face alone."

You huff, and go back to your ramen again.

It's the one constant in this entire situation that you can turn to.

Only to fucking burn my mouth.

This time when you wince and yelp, Hyunjin doesn't come to help you. No, that motherfucker laughs.

You slap his shoulder and just like that, the light hearted atmosphere has returned.

The elephant in the room remains unaddressed but as you continue to eat your food, the spice doesn't quite hit as much, and your heart doesn't quite hurt as much.

After you're done, you glance out the window. It's still pouring cats and dogs and you have no idea what to do.

You look over, only to find him already staring at you, giving you one of those looks.

You know what's coming. But that doesn't make you any less unwilling to answer when the bomb finally drops,

"So, how are things?"

"What things?"

Ignorance. Totally not a dick move.

But you'll do just about anything to delay the inevitable. To not address what you know he wants you to.

"With seungmin."

But he's not here to play, it seems.

"Non existent?" You shrug, not meeting his gaze.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the puzzled look on his face, "What do you mean? What happened?"

You scoff, "His ex happened, that's what."

He's even more confused now. Looking up at him, you wonder if he doesn't believe that his once-friend would do such a thing or if he's just naive enough to not understand what you're implying.

Something seems to click, and his relaxed stance is gone in a flash.

"So, you mean to say," he almost growls, voice sending shivers down your spine, "He did all that only to cheat on you?"

You're not sure what he means by all that but you don't have the time to ask.

His jaw ticks, eyes burning with intensity when he suddenly stands up and promptly starts pacing the aisle.

His hands come up to tug at his locks, those silky blonde locks you have yet to learn the feel of, if ever, and you can make faint phrases from his incoherent murmuring.

"—happening right now—"

"had the nerve—"

"—no way."

You watch him for a while, but soon his pacing gives your head cause to spin and you walk over to him.

You trudge up to his still pacing form, approaching him like you would a feral puppy, for he's certainly acting like one, and gingerly tap on his shoulder.

Seemingly not having noticed you advancing toward him, he startles, and turns to look at you.

And it's then that you notice. Eyes filled with the beginnings of what look an awful lot like tears, his water line is but a moment away from flooding.

"Hey, talk to me. What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry." He blurts out.

"What for?"

"At the exhibit—"

The exhibit? Surely, he's not—

"— when I said it didn't mean anything to me—"

Oh, hell no.

You step back, all attempts to calm him down forgotten, self preservation instincts kicking in.

"Stop."

Your voice is stern, laced with what seems to be venom, and you suppose it might as well be, for you value your self worth far more than the prospect of coming off standoffish.

"Please love, listen—"

Love.

That's what he'd call you. Only to fuck it all up soon after.

You don't want a replay of what happened, a rerun of the horror you were put through. Your heart can only take so much, after all.

"No hyunjin, I'm not doing this with you right now."

You stumble back. Quite literally stumble.

Your head is spinning, the gut wrenching feeling that you wished, prayed, hoped, begged to not return is back.

The memories of all those days return. In full force.

You had cried. Cried until your eyes dried out, until they didn't have anything to give. Until the washbasin tap ran out of water and was no longer able to conceal your sobs. Until your eyes burnt enough to droop. Until sleep tucked you in its icy tentacles. It won't leave you alone.

The thought of him.

All the delicacies in the world and you couldn't taste anything. All the calming fragrances, but you couldn't smell anything. All the beauty that was worth beholding, but you couldn't perceive anything. All the divine melodies, but you couldn't discern anything. All the warm bodies, but you could find comfort in none.

It wouldn't leave you alone.

The taste of him. The scent of him. The sight of him. The sound of him. The feel of him.

You had been deprived of it. And living without it all that time is a fate you wouldn't wish upon your worst enemy.

"Hey, love.. "

You don't really know what's going on around you. You can hear his voice, the gentle rumble, but don't really understand anything. It's all white noise, blending in with the buzzing that's growing louder every second.

You feel something warm on your jaw. It feels nice. You grasp at it, holding tightly,

"Stay. Stay," is all you say through hiccups. You don't know what this feeling is, but you don't want it to go. It's grounding, warm, a stark contrast to your shivering body.

As soon as you cling onto his hands with your ice cold ones, Hyunjin is on high alert, winding his arms around your shoulders, pulling you impossibly close.

"Breathe, love, breathe. I'm here. Shhh."

It's taking everything in him not to break at what he's witnessing. You're almost at the brink of a panic attack, trembling, shaking, sobbing. But he has to stay strong. For you.

"Hey, hey, listen. Look at me. Look at me, love."

The voice is still distant. You try to move your eyes, to make sense of the situation, to no avail. Your shivering isn't subsiding.

Then suddenly, you feel the same warmth that was on your jaw, on your lips. Something soft, tender, and sweet.

You're barely moving your lips but this time when your tongue twirls around and hits your palate, not only does it remember, it also feels.

The taste of him.

And suddenly you can feel your senses coming back to you. Your head isn't hurting, your ears aren't buzzing, your eyes aren't unsure, the fragrances aren't mingled together.

For the first time in months, everything is clear.

Taste. Sight. Scent. Feel. Sound.

It's all clear.

Because it's all him.

When he breaks the kiss, you notice his cheeks are stained.

You thumb away his tears, whispering,

"Don't cry."

"You're one to talk," he sniffles.

"You're not doing it again, are you?"

You've come down enough to let out a timid voice, bringing down all the walls you've built around yourself.

One last time. Just one last.

He buries his face in your neck, and you're sure you hear a choked sob, "Never again, love. I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."

He turns the both of you over, seating himself on the bench, pulling you to his lap sideways.

"I never wanted to do it. But I had to."

You don't trust your voice enough to try to speak, so you can only urge him on with a silent look, hoping he'd catch on.

Of course, he does.

"Before our.. night together, Seungmin had told me he had feelings for you. He told me he knew I did too and asked me to stay away. Something about him liking you first," the annoyance written all over his face couldn't be more apparent, "I don't know why, but I accepted. I overestimated my restraint. I jumped in with you the first chance I got and trust me, love, I don't regret a moment of it. But when I saw Seungmin right after, I knew I had fucked up. I tried to talk to him, but he just wouldn't listen—"

"Is that why you guys fell apart back then?"

He gives you a pained smile, a draw of lips that's much more a dejection than an actual smile.

"He made me feel like I had wronged him. He made me feel so bad about everything. I truly believed I was in the wrong. That I was wrong to let myself indulge in you, wrong in enjoying it. And so I pushed you away. I thought- I thought he was better for you anyway—"

"And none of you thought about asking me? What I wanted?"

"I know, I know. I'm sorry, love. I was too busy berating myself to see anything else." He leans forward and the next words are muffled in your neck, "I promise I'll be better. I promise. I'll put you first, always. Please. Please, I'm sorry."

Your breath hitches and you do not have the strength, nor the will, if you're honest, to stop what your tongue spills next,

"If I give you one last chance, can we go back?"

"That's all I ask," he breathes, the later part of his sentence right in your mouth.

This time when he kisses you, you are an active participant. Now that you can taste him, you're going to savour him. Both of your tongues dance together, the small sounds of moisture almost as loud as the raging storm outside, all because having been deprived of his sound for so long, it's all your ears can hear.

Your hips have a will of their own as they roll against his crotch and to your delight, find him already on the way to being ready for you.

"Need you," you mumble against his lips, "once more," without stopping the languid rolls of your groin against his.

"You can have me whenever."

The promise has your confidence soaring, and in that exact moment of conviction, you hook your fingers in his track pants and boxers, pulling them down in one fell swoop. He's fully hard by now and even prettier than you remember.

You take him in your hand, not pumping, not stroking, just feeling him and his wetness that is trickling down the shaft by now.

You know he must be impatient, must be having a hard time controlling himself, but he lets you inspect him, lets you run your thumb along his member, swiping and gathering his precum.

When you look up at him, his eyes are glazed over, half hidden under drooped eyelids. Looking right into them, you bring your thumb to your mouth and suck it clean. He lets out a puff of air, but no sound accompanies.

You want to hear him. Now that you can, you want to relish in the sound of him.

You moan with your thumb still in your mouth and it has the desired effect in the form of a groan from those pretty lips.

You lean forward, "You taste so good, Hyun. Here," You stick your tongue out for him, thinking he'd suck on it.

How dumb; to think he'd do something so tame.

Nothing could've prepared you for the way he sticks his own tongue out, dragging it against yours in one fat lick, and pulls away, with a myriad of spit strings connecting your wet, hot appendages.

Enjoying the look of awed surprise on your face, he takes advantage of it, and flips your skirt up, pulling your underwear to one side.

Running his fingers along your slit, another groan makes itself known. He starts pushing two fingers in.

That's when you hold his wrist, stopping him from penetrating you any further.

His eyes shoot up at you and before he can panic about what he did wrong, you frantically murmur, "No time for this," and lift your hips, coming to sit on your knees.

"But are you—"

"More than ready. All okay," you don't feel the need to string together proper grammatically correct sentences. So long as the meaning is conveyed.

"W-wait what abo—"

"Birth control."

"How do you know—"

"You're not the only one who can read me like an open book," you smirk, grabbing his now throbbing length, holding it upright and begin the delicious sink.

You don't really have a distinct memory of what it felt like all those years ago, but even so, you don't recall it being this good.

As your hips meet his, with him completely sheathed in, he falls forward, his face dropping in the juncture between your neck and shoulder as he whines. Actually whines.

"Oh God, please.. "

Hips flush against his, you smile and rake your fingertips through those silky blonde locks you've been eyeing the whole while you've been here. You take it all in. The feel of him.

"You good, Hyun?"

"Just- just, missed this, love this.. "

"What's this?" You can't help but ask. You swear you're not teasing, just curious.

"Love your pussy," and when he lifts his head up, for the second time that night, you see the tears pricking his eyes, "love you. I love you."

Overcome with emotion, you lunge for him, mouths meeting in a frantic clash of teeth and tongue and it's all you can do to keep your sanity intact.

Slowly, you begin to move your hips in circles, feeling every inch he has to offer, and does he have a lot of them, pulliing groan after groan from him, until his voice is echoing in the stand alone empty convenience store, in this distant cranny of the city that remains still half unknown to you, probably reaching out and echoing in the empty rainy night streets, but in this moment, you can hardly bring yourself to care.

"Fuck, best pussy I've ever had," he grunts in between kisses and it's then that you realise, you aren't entirely ready for this form of him.

Back in the day, obscene statements and vulgar language were your speciality. But such filth spilling from those pretty lips is, you realise, fucking lethal.

As you continue your slow grind on him, he finds enough will to sit back up,and reattaches his mouth to you.

His hands play with the hem of your shirt, slipping underneath and slowly trailing upwards, until they reach your breasts, cupping and kneading.

He groans again even though you're the one being stimulated, "Wanted to do this ever since you walked in with that fucking wet top clinging onto you."

A harsh tug of your nipples has you moaning, and your slow rut turns to full fledged bounces.

He continues to fondle you, his face scrunched up. You know the bounces aren't doing much for him, but he's trying to let you have your fun.

A single drop of sweat trickles from his forehead, down across his cheek and his neck. You're not in control of your own actions as you lean forward and press your tongue flat against the small droplet at the base of his neck and lick up the trail it had left behind.

"Oh god, love, when did you turn so naughty?"

His voice is strained and you just know it's only a matter of time before he loses it and takes control.

You're counting on it.

You bring your hand to the front of his face and fork out your fingers, digging them into his hairline and pushing, effectively shoving all his hair back, forehead on display. You lean forward and drag your tongue against his sweaty skin again and that's all it takes for his self control to snap.

"That's it. Off."

You get off him. Standing up frantically, he goes behind you, and winding both his arms around your waist, lifts you up. Reaching the table, where your ramen bowls are now keeping the poor croissant company, he deposits you on your knees atop the table, your front to the large window, back to him.

He grabs your hips and lifts you up slightly so that you're no longer sitting on your heels, and pushes you forward with his large palm against the small of your back, pert ass jutting out slightly, giving him enough room to enter.

The position is something new, and entirely too creative, you'll give him that— with you bracing your weight on your palms, knees on either side of them, slightly crouched forward, ass hanging in air.

Seems promising.

Yet you fail to fathom to just what extent it's going to wreck you, for when he starts pushing back in, your jaw falls slack, a wanton moan tumbling out before you have the chance to stop it.

He pulls out. Barely an inch and thrusts forward with so much force, you worry about hitting your head on the goddamn window.

"Oh, fuck—"

That only seems to motivate him further as he repeats the motion again, practically pounding you with calculated ruts.

Each time he rams into you, it's with a perfectly measured intensity to have you surrendering yourself to the onslaught of pleasure.

It's then that you notice a faint reflection of your connected bodies on the rain tinted window. Transfixed, you stare at him through it, at yourself, watch how his brows are furrowed in concentration, eyes not leaving the area where he enters you.

It doesn't take long for him to follow your line of sight and when he sees just what exactly is driving you insane, he grins. Almost diabolically.

"Does seeing yourself in the reflection excite you, love? Or is it the idea that anyone could walk by and see you taking it from the back that has you creaming around me like this?"

Oh god, you don't think you can deal with this.

"What do you— ah— mean? I'm n-not—"

One deliberate harsh thrust and your cunt makes the most lewd squelching noise, in complete contradiction to any excuse you might have tried to make.

This was of course intentional, as a chuckle resounds in the empty store, "No? Your pussy begs to differ."

And with that he pulls out, lifting you by the waist once again, and walks around the table to land you right in front of the window, your back to him.

He pulls only your hips backwards, bending you to the perfect angle and in one swift motion, is back inside you again.

"Watch all you want," he smirks and goes right back to jackhammering into your hole.

You land your hands onto the panel and with it so close to your face, the glass turns foggy.

His hands once again find your tits, groping, and mushing them together. You notice him staring at them through the reflection, greedy eyes enjoying the view of the deep cleavage he's created.

Just to mess with him, you open your mouth and let a dollop of spit fall down right into the cleavage, trailing down the valley, which is now non-existent, with the way he's pushing them together, between your breasts.

He groans, "Fuck, love, you definitely got a lot dirtier in the time we were apart. Seungmin teach you this?"

You grimace, not sure why he had to bring it up now of all times, even if it was partially the truth, "Can you not talk about other guys when you're balls deep inside me?"

"Why not? Like you said, it's me who's balls deep in you. If anything, I love how we can just talk about him when it's me fucking you this good."

You've never seen this side of him before. There's a strange possessiveness to his tone, one that lets you know this isn't just dirty talk.

"I always wanna fuck you, always wanna be in your cunt. Will you let me, love?"

You're turned on beyond belief. He's managed to continue to spew filth and fuck you into tomorrow, keeping up a fast and hard tempo all at the same time.

"Will you, hm?" He prompts when you don't answer.

"Let me have you to myself. Please?"

The all too familiar bubbling in your lower belly is all you can focus on, but through the haze of it all, you manage to mumble an "always."

He falls forward at that, bringing his hand around you, jutting is index and middle finger apart in a V sign, and slots them on either side of your clit. It's then that the real pleasure begins. He moves both the fingers back and forth alternatively, one moving backward when the other moves forward, occasionally bringing them together to effectively pinch your clitoris.

He remembers. He remembers just how you like it.

It's not the movement in itself, but the realisation that he remembers that snaps the coil that has been building, and with no further warning, you are coming all around him.

You wail, body thrashing about with how hard your orgasm hits you, eyes seeing white spots all over your field of view.

He slows down his thrust to rhythmic grinds, fingers taking on a gentle rub of circles on your overworked clit, trying to prolong your pleasure as much as he can.

You have partially come down, walls still fluttering around him, when he speaks with urgency,

"W-where do you want me?"

"Inside," it's not even a matter to mull over. You'd be a fool to not be painted by his pigment, to not want his essence to create the most beautiful masterpiece. One that remains sheathed inside you, for the world to never witness. Only yours to feel, to possess.

He suddenly sinks his teeth into your neck, biting down hard. You yelp and reflexively clench around him and that's all it takes for him to lose himself, hot liquid gushing and filling you up to the brim, dripping out and down, and he's still going, giving more of him to you.

When he's finally milked himself for all he's worth, he slumps forward, still buried in you to the hilt. This makes your body, previously bent, straighten and your tits press against the cool window.

You gasp from the sudden chill, and he whispers,

"Sorry love. Here," and reaches both his hands out to slip in between the glass and your breasts, scooping them fully, his hand now pressed to the cold casement.

You laugh, "Don't pretend you're doing this for me. After what just happened, I'm fully aware of your tit fixation."

He laughs too but doesn't deny it.

As he stills and catches his breath, you push your hips back against his now softening cock.

You can't help it. It's completely involuntary.

He hisses in overstimulation, but makes no move to stop you.

"Does it hurt?" You enquire, not stopping your movements, for if he says no, you'll have to anyway. Savour it while it lasts, your greedy mind tells you.

But what he says is not what you were expecting.

"Nothing hurts when you do it, love."

He whimpers, but doesn't attempt to halt you, still.

"You could run me over with a truck and I'd thank you."

Rolling your eyes at this antics, you stifle out a laugh. "Count me in."

Turning you around, he looks at you in mock offence, hand held over his chest, "You wound me, love."

You laugh even harder at that.

Gosh, did you miss this dramatic ass.

An endeared smile makes its way onto his face. He pulls you into his embrace again. And as his sandalwood fragrance tingles your senses alight, you drown right into it. The scent of him.

You could get used to this new scent on him, his skin, make new memories, forgoing the ones that scarred your soul.

"But really, I'm grateful. Thank you, for coming back to me."

"Just don't break my heart again."

He pulls back, just an inch, sorrow taking over his features, "I swear I never meant—"

You silence him with a finger to his lips, which he kisses on reflex.

"I know. No more apologies. Just promise me. That you'll stay this time."

He kisses your finger again with a nod.

"That you'll love me back this time."

Another kiss.

"That you'll never assume that anyone or anything makes me happier than you. "

Another.

Removing your finger from those plush lips, you move further towards him, if that, at all, is even possible.

You cup his face in your hold, "That you'll always fuck me like you did today."

A smirk tugs at his lips, cheeky demeanour taking over.

But his face suddenly softens, "You were my first, all those years ago. And I intend for you to be my last."

That has your insides positively melting, but under his gaze, you know of no way to react, except to smack him on the chest, and yelp, "You're so fucking corny today!"

And the smirk makes a comeback, as he leans down, and whispers right in your ear,

"They call me the hopeless romantic for a reason."

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idontplaytrack · 3 months

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Capri Donahue x Harper!Sibling reader

Warnings: MDNI, dom!Capri, sub!reader, oral, fingering, overstimulation, light bondage, multiple orgasms, squirting

Read as a standalone fic, or after ‘Never Lost’ for more context on the storyline!

“So you told Darby about the powers?”

“Kinda had to, she saw me use them the other night.” Capri replies nonchalantly. “And after what I did, she couldn’t say much about them anyway. But, we’re fine now. No more stupid drama.”

“Really?” You asked, a bright smile on your face. Probably the first one all weekend since before the car nearly hit you.

The weather was gloomy, rain was about to fall given the way you kept hearing thunder roaring in the distance. Paying no mind to that, you looked into the mirror in front of you, checking your skin before drying it with a face towel. While doing so, you felt Capri staring at you intently. Your bare body. Next, her arm snakes around your waist as she shifted into her position behind you, hugging you. Her chin rested on your shoulder as she whispers, "I love you." It gave you that warm and fuzzy feeling in your stomach...those words. But also that forsaken rush of heat downwards.

"Why so clingy, babe?"

"No reason." She spoke, pressing a soft kiss in the crook of your neck. That action sends an electric shock down your spine, making you take in a sharp breath. "Listen- remember I said the other day that we should take it to my house. And now that we are...what do you say we do just that?" Her hand traces your side as she asks.

You chuckle, catching her drift, "I say, okay."

"Good." She says as her other hand- her left hand reached up the front of you body and just held your breast in her hand, massaging it ; That gesture successfully elicits a whimper from you. "Remember that talk we had awhile ago about doing some things to spice it up?" She asks, now you were overly aware of the fact that her bare body was pressed up against yours. "Yeah." You respond. "Last week, I got us a little something to use."

"What?"

"Give me a minute." Her hand gropes your ass cheek shamelessly as she leaves the ensuite bathroom, "I'll be right back." You hear her walk into her closet, opening a drawer then some shuffling and other clattering sounds that you couldn't make clear.

However, when she returned, your question was answered. "That is not a little thing."

"It's not that big." She smirked, looking down at the harness she'd put on, leaning onto you to graze the shell of your ear.

"Capri, you know I've never-"

"Well, do you want to try it? For me to use it on you?"

You pondered for a moment, observing her face, how the damp shoulder-length hair stuck to her skin, but also seemed to perfectly frame her face at the same time. Her full breasts inches away from you, you looked at her hands, then her lips as you began to fantasise and crave for her touch. "I do." You agreed with a tiny nod of your head. She grins, saying, "I'll work you up to it with my fingers first." As you gave her another agreeing nod, she cups your face and both your lips quickly melted into one- her free hand carries on groping your other breast that she's neglected for a minute or few, honestly. Subsequently, her hand that was cupping your face makes its way down between your legs, gathering some of your arousal on two fingers as they began to circle your already sensitive clit teasingly. You weren’t one to brag— she was. But the two of you were rather…active.

Slowly, she flips you over so your back was against her and your front was pressed up against the cool granite countertop. “I want you to look at yourself in the mirror, babe.” She whispers, pushing your back lightly so you were now bent over. You flinch as the warmth of your skin became one with the coldness of the countertop. “Watch how your face changes when I fuck you.” She tells you. With you, her bark was always worse than her bite. She’d never order you around. Her next move was to hold both your wrists together behind your back, “I don’t want you to touch yourself though. Leave that to me.”

You didn’t say anything back, but your body reacted. She feels your wetness grow, her fingers even slipping from its spot unintentionally. She holds the sensitive bundle of nerves in between two fingers and gives it a light pinch. Another whimper easily falls from your lips, more came out when she repeatedly does the same thing. Eventually, a moan erupts from your throat as she pulls her hand away. She hears you gasp, but you almost instantly feel her again- her index and middle finger spreading your lips apart and dipping her middle finger in. She begins at a languish pace to build up your arousal but quickly reciprocated your noises of approval by picking up her pace, and her mouth marking your neck. The index finger joins the first, curling up to hit you exactly in your g-spot every time she pushed into you. On top of that, once she’d let go of your wrists, she gives you a resounding smack on your ass. “Oh, fuck!” You panted, a high-pitched whine following your cry.

“Watch, baby.” Capri reminded you softly.

“Okay.” You gulped while feeling her fingers trace your ass cheek randomly. Her fingers entered you again, resuming its motion to bring you closer to your climax. Capri’s thumb ghosted your clit, close enough to know it was beginning to pulse. So, she pulls her fingers out the furthest she could without leaving you, continuing this for awhile before you let her hear that you were clearly frustrated and wanting more from her. Capri’s been watching you in the mirror to see your face- tears were brimming in your eyes as you begged her for more, you swollen clit desperately needing more stimulation than it was getting. Capri knew that- she could feel you. You were aroused but not exactly close yet. Her hand doesn’t leave you, but you see her bend down to find something in one of the drawers. Lube. She got a generous amount of it onto the strap, “You ready, bunny?”

————

Your breathing hitched, giving her an eager nod in response. Your body was yearning for more and this seemed like it. You could feel Capri teasing your folds with it while watching your face for any sort of confirmation- which you gave to her in seconds. You felt the tip of it at your entrance, and as the tip gets pushed into you, your mouth was hanging open as a high-pitched moan comes out of it. Capri smirked when she heard that- it was like music to her ears and she couldn’t get enough of it, of you. She started slow to help herself gain a comfortable momentum, but once your moans and whimpers fell from your lips in an unending manner she took it as her cue to pick up her pace and push herself into you, deeper.

“Oh, my God.” You gasped at a completely new sensation. You were completely filled out but the strap, feeling the pressure on a completely foreign spot, deep inside you. Capri seemed to know what it meant, her hand rubs your clit as she stood still, letting the tip of the strap keep its pressure on that spot. Shamelessly, you were crying. Capri started moving again, the strap pounding into you purposefully, her hand rubbing and pinching your clit. You started to feel a familiar coil in the bottom of your abdomen, and you alert Capri that you were close breathlessly. What she does? It pissed you off in the moment- she pulls out completely.

“Capri, Capri. Please.” You begged, “Capri, I’m so close.”

“I know, I know. Baby, shh.” She shushes you, her hands on each ass cheek as you saw her disappear in the reflection. In the next few seconds, you feel her kiss your clit. So gently, but your knees buckled. Capri keeps you steady, though. You gathered she must be on her knees as she ate you out, but that was a thought quickly gone from your mind when you felt her tongue pushing into your tight entrance mercilessly. You could barely keep still, nor stay standing. Once her mouth fully attaches onto your cunt, your body reacts. It takes this as cue to unravel, filling her mouth with your juices. Even then, she doesn’t stop, her tongue carries on flicking your clit like it was on a mission, lapping up your juices but you were almost instantly dripping again. You couldn’t hold it in anymore- you cried. The tears just fell like no one’s business. You could feel yourself throbbing as she continued to give you the stimulation. But you didn’t stop her- for some reason, you didn’t want her to stop. She just felt so fucking good. Before you could register what was happening, you came again. Then, she lifted your leg up so that your foot rested on the counter. “You okay?” She asks you as she positioned herself. That was when you saw her face- god, her chin was dripping with your juices. “Yeah. I- I’m fine.” You confirmed, then feeling her hands on your ass again.

“You’re so hot, baby.” She licked her lips, swallowing, “You wanna keep going?”

You were so fucked out that that was all you wanted now. So, you agreed. And she does just that. The strap was pushed back into you in one swift movement, no resistance at all. She moved ungodly fast, forcing a string of profanities, her name, whimpers, moans and cries to resound through the bathroom. Capri loved it- you saw her face - that proud smile plastered on her face.

Your knees began to shake so she held a hand on your waist. “Capri- I- oh, my God- what is- oh, fuck. Oh, my God-”

She chuckles breathlessly, “Holy shit. Oh, God that’s so hot.” Her pace slows down, eventually pulling out completely and ditching the harness. And you, you were still…going.

“Oh- oh, God. Thank you.” You managed.

“You did fucking amazing.” She steps over the puddle she caused on the floor and leaned down to kiss your lips after wiping her mouth off, brushing the hair out of your face. You smiled weakly as she hoisted you up bridal style and brought you back to her bedroom, carefully placing you on her mattress.

“I can’t believe I did that.” You reached out for her face so you could kiss her again.

“I know.” She grins, giving you yet another kiss before laying down with you. “I love you so much.” Content, you smiled, snuggling against her bare chest with your arms wrapped around each other.

————

After a little while, she leaves you to get you a drink of water which you gratefully accepted. “I’m gonna go clean that up then we’ll go take another shower to clean ourselves up.” She smooches your cheek before entering the bathroom again.

“Okay.” You said as she walked away.

After that was done, the both of you took a quick shower then went to order some food, watching some TV while waiting. “Can you walk?” She teases.

“Do ya think so?” You sassed.

“Okay, okay. Don’t move.” She chuckles, which turned into a signature cheeky smirk, “Which flavour do you want? Chocolate Fudge Brownie, Strawberry Cheesecake, Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough?”

“Cookie dough.”

“Okay.” She grabs the mini cups of ice cream then shut the fridge door. “Do you want anything else?”

“No.” You shook your head no as you watched her walk back to you.

“Here you go.” She hands your ice cream to you, which you immediately dug into.

“How you feelin’?” She asks, biting the tiny spoon in between her teeth as she reaches for the TV remote.

“Uh- a little sore. But you probably know that.” You blushed.

“Do you want painkillers?” She asked worriedly.

“Mm, no. I think I’m gonna be fine.”

“Alright. Just let me know if you need that or anything else.” She says while leaning onto you, resting her head on your shoulder as she ate her dessert.

#lgbtqia #wlw #queer #wlw fanfic #auli'i cravalho #female reader #x reader #reader insert #smut #darby and the dead #capri donahue #steamy

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