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try-set-me-on-fire · 13 days ago

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They’ve got the little window over the sink open and Bobby keeps calling through it, asking for ingredients, utensils. Eddie clatters around the cabinet by the fridge.

“Third shelf,” Bobby says again, elbow on the sill. It doesn’t help any more than the first time he said it.

“I don’t even- Bobby, I don’t know what I’m looking for. Just- you can’t just use a normal spatula?”

“The flexibility and sharp edge of a fish spatula,” Bobby says, also for the second time, with a strained sort of patience, “Is perfect for sliding under-”

Buck’s arm reaches over Eddie’s shoulder and plucks a long slotted spatula from Bobby’s elaborate and baffling collection. “Got it.” He kisses the side of Eddie’s head as he keeps moving, lips catching the top of his ear. “It’s better for-”

“Pancakes, fritters, any sort of delicate patty, yeah, yeah, I heard.”

Bobby and Buck grin at him with identical raised eyebrows, it's kind of uncanny. “He’s not hopeless after all.”

“I do my best,” Buck says, smacking Eddie on the back and heading towards the door. “He’s come a long way.”

Eddie crosses his arms. “I don’t have to keep handing you shit. We’re not at work. I could make you walk inside every time.”

Bobby grins wider. “And I could give you all the burnt tater tots.”

Eddie pouts. “I’m reporting you to HR for unfair retaliation in response to labor concerns.”

“We’re not at work,” Bobby says, serenely. “Hand me the tenderizer.”

Eddie was sent in here, originally, like half an hour ago, to cut up the two giant watermelons Hen and Karen had brought direct from the farmers market, but he’d only got the knife halfway through the first one when the side quests started coming. He finally returns to the cutting board as Buck and Bobby’s voice drift further away, towards the grill. He cuts the thing in half and then stares at it so long he jumps a foot in the air when Maddie suddenly appears next to him.

“Woah,” she laughs. “What secrets of the universe does that watermelon hold?”

Eddie coughs out a chuckle. “I was just- debating the best shape to eat.”

She hums thoughtfully. “Big choice. Little cubes? Little cubes are nice. Or, like, slices?”

“I’ve always been a fan of a nice wedge.”

Maddie makes a triangle shape with her hands. “It is a classic.”

“Kind of makes your plate top heavy, though.”

“You’ve got two watermelons,” she points out.

“Wedges and cubes,” Eddie nods. “I like your way of thinking.”

She grabs a bowl from a different cupboard — why does everyone know this kitchen so well already? This is the new Grant-Nash residence house warming party, Eddie’s got lost on the way to the bathroom like three times since he got here — as he cubes the first melon. “How was the movie?”

“Hm?”

“Didn’t you and Buck go see Conclave earlier? The trailer looked interesting.”

“Oh, yeah.” Eddie scoops the cubes into the bowl and rinses his hands off before starting in on wedges.

Maddie laughs behind him. “… and how was it?”

“Oh! Uh- yeah, I mean- you know, horror movies, they’re fun.”

Maddie tilts her head. “Wait, wasn’t that one a drama?”

“Uh-”

“Wait.” She wrinkles her nose. “Were you just- were you making out with my brother literally the whole time?”

Eddie, hands up, gives her a bare teeth grimace of a smile as she cackles and whacks him with a towel. “Hey- I mean, I kind of looked up once, they were in some sort of- I don’t know, a theater or something? It was really dark in there? It looked kind of creepy.”

“Oh my god.”

“There’s a lot of Catholicism themed horror movies,” Eddie weakly tries to defend himself. “How was I supposed to know?”

“By watching it!” She laughs. “Why spend the $12?”

“My air conditioning is broken,” Eddie says sheepishly. “And it was 10 AM on a weekday, the only other person in there was 80 years old and snored through most of it.” He frowns. “Which also makes more sense if it wasn’t- I don’t know, I thought it was like The Conjuring?”

She laughs again, helpless giggles while she covers her face. Her daughter laughs the same way sometimes. “Don’t you have catholic guilt? Wasn’t that a thing?”

Eddie shrugs. “My abuela always says once I commit to something I never do it by half.”

“So, making out all through a movie about the pope?”

Eddie points at her. “Gay making out all through a movie about the pope.” He frowns again. “Damn, it was really about the pope? Okay I’m not- look, I’m not feeling guilty about that but, uh, if you ever talk to my grandmother or Pepa, uh-”

“I don’t think it would come up,” she says, patting his shoulder.

“They’re not- it’s- they wouldn’t like me making out with a girl during a pope movie, either, it’s not the gay thing.”

“I know, Eddie,” she says, more kind than teasing. “Everybody’s really happy for you,” kinder still.

“Oh.” His cheeks are probably bright red. “Uh. Thank you.” His ears burn as he busies himself with the watermelon again. “You know- I wouldn’t’ve got here, without Buck.”

Maddie comes close, presses their elbows together until he looks back up at her. “He deserves someone who doesn’t commit to things halfway.”

It makes Eddie laugh with soft edges, because: “I think… I’ve always been all the way, with him.”

She smiles so wide her nose crunches. “I know.”

There’s a tap at the window, and there he is, Buck himself. His nose is a little pink from the late October heat, he’s smiling real big. “Hi.”

“What do you want now?” Eddie’s tone is snappy but he’s sure his face is pure mush.

Buck sticks a thumb at Maddie. “Chim’s threatening to, and I quote, ‘eat five hundred tater tots,’” Buck pauses, presumably in service of Chim’s love of dramatic effect, then continues, “‘and then fall into a coma.’ So, like, if you wanna do something about that you might wanna get out there.”

“W-” Maddie starts to ask, and then shakes her head. She grabs the cube bowl. “At least he should have some fruit, too.” She flashes them a grin as she walks out the door, their laughter following.

When Eddie looks back at the window Buck has his chin in his hand, smiling at him. “What?” He laughs, ears hot again.

“Admiring the view,” Buck says, with the combination of flirtatious and earnest that Eddie has come to expect but is never prepared for. “Food’ll be up soon. Come and join us?”

Eddie leans forward over the sink. “Cap doesn’t need anything else?”

Buck shrugs, very close now. Eddie almost laughs wondering if he’s on his tiptoes in the dirt out there. “He can get his own shit. I’ll eat your burnt potatoes.”

Eddie closes the last half inch of distance and does laugh, right into Buck’s mouth. “We can share,” he says, magnanimous, because Buck’s always been all in, too. He can go halfsies, it’s only fair.

There’s shouting outside, Buck pulls back, drums on the windowsill. Smile, wink, turn. Eddie grabs the wedges, and hurries out the door.

(Ao3)

#my writing #buddie #firearm #shrug! here’s a little thing!

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harryspet · 5 months ago

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homestead | r.cameron [p.2]

[warnings]dark!rafe cameron x pregnant!reader, farmer!rafe, pogue!reader, implied jj x reader, kidnapping, NONCON, unprotected sex, little editing,READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

word count: 3.4k

In which you confront Rafe's unsettling mix of tenderness and manipulation.

part one

Your search of the room for anything useful as a weapon was not fruitful. Most drawers were empty except for clothes. You found more pairs of pajamas and nightgowns, but searching the closet only yielded a few hung sundresses. The bathroom was simple, with a clawfoot tub and another window looking out onto green pastures. On the bathroom counter, you found a wicker basket full of what you assumed were newly bought essentials. Several containers of prenatal vitamins, body washes and creams for sensitive skin, panty liners, Epsom salts, and essential oils.

Rafe Cameron thought of all of this?

The window offered a view of the other side of the house and a large white barn and Rafe’s blue pickup truck caught your eye. You stepped into the tub to get a closer look out the window. Maybe you could see a road, a way out of here, or even a street sign that might tell you where you were. Just like the bedroom windows, they didn’t budge either.

The bedroom door swings open once more, and you sink into the empty tub, your head cradled in your hands as you desperately try to force your mind to function. For the sake of your baby, you need to think clearly. The overwhelming situation presses down on you, making it even harder to process what’s happening. You can sense his presence in the doorway, but you can't bring yourself to meet his gaze.

“I made scrambled eggs,” He said.

“They make me sick,” You said stoically, “Haven’t eaten them in months.”

“Good to know,” His tall, broad figure stood over you before you heard him kneel down beside the tub, “I also brought yogurt and fresh fruit. How does that sound?”

“All the windows are locked.”

“Uh, yeah,” he said as if it were normal, “I know you’re hungry. You need your strength. I don’t have to remind you why.”

You looked up to see his hand offering a white bowl filled with yogurt, fresh blueberries, and strawberries. He was right—you needed your strength. If not for the baby, then to gather the energy to escape. Perhaps you could think more clearly on a full stomach. You gazed at the food for a full minute, trying to rationalize why you should accept it, wrestling with the cognitive dissonance that churned within you.

You took it from his hands without a thank you and stirred your spoon about twenty times before finally bringing it to your mouth. It tasted heavenly, which you hated. “There’s the cutest farmer’s market a couple of miles from here. The blueberries are incredible but you gotta get there early on Sunday before they’re sold out.”

You met his eyes for a brief moment and realized they were sparkling with joy. You didn’t have to respond to him, he’d happily talk to himself as long as he felt like he was making some progress with you. You couldn’t let me feel that way for long, “You’ve outdone yourself, Rafe, really.”

“Just want you to be comfortable,” He shrugged, and you rolled your eyes, “It’s a lot right now, I know that.”

“A lot,” you scoffed, bitterness laced throughout your tone. “This is insane.”

Something flickered in his eyes, but he suppressed it, whatever it was, “You’re safe here. Your baby’s safe here. There’s plenty of room, plenty of food, and you’d never have to work a real jon. You haven’t even seen everything yet, but it’s beautiful. It’s a great place to raise a kid.”

“Rafe, you took the choice away from me.”

He shook his head, “So what? I saved you from suffering even further. Not even a little part of you regrets choosing JJ?”

You went quiet, feeling your temper rising. Instead of responding, you brought another spoonful to your mouth. He didn’t understand why this was so completely wrong, and presenting him with common sense didn’t seem to be working.

“I love you, Y/N,” He spoke as if to get your attention, but you didn’t meet his eyes this time, “Don’t start thinking anyone’s coming to save you, Y/N. And you won’t overpower me or make it far running. Not in your condition. You know that.”

You knew that, didn’t you? Clearly, JJ didn’t care enough about you to do better. And Pope had a bright future ahead of him. Maybe he’d realize he was better off without you. What were you to do now? Give in when you’ve just realized that Rafe is a monster?

“Finish your food, I’ll be back later,” When you looked again he had the plate in hand and was walking away, not without loudly shutting the door.

Your head tilted back against the cold porcelain. This would turn out to be a game of endurance. You had to outlast him and perhaps outthink him. He’d been planning to bring you here for weeks, but he couldn’t have planned for everything.

You finished your food and then spent the next few hours exploring the room in more detail, ensuring you hadn’t missed any detail. After all that time, the only new discovery that you make is under the bed. Still, in its packaging, you find a pregnancy pillow. You wouldn’t admit that you felt a small comfort at the sight of it. Sleeping had started to feel completely uncomfortable over the past few weeks, and you woke up painfully sore each morning.

It felt wrong when you knew it shouldn’t. In the meantime, you’d also take some of the prenatal vitamins. You could only afford one bottle of the generic brand, but Rafe provided several different types. Taking multiple kinds meant you weren’t missing any nutrients your baby might need. In just a matter of hours, you were starting to realize all that you didn’t have.

You unzipped the pillow from its packaging, letting yourself feel the soft material against your chest. Although the knock at the door wasn’t loud, it startled you. Rafe appeared now in work boots, jeans, and a flannel. He held the doorknob in his hand and looked you over as if he hadn’t just seen you or picked out the exact outfit he wanted to see you in. You noticed he was even taller in those boots.

“What do you think?” He gestured to the pillow.

“Looks expensive,” You said simply.

“It had the best reviews,” he added, “You’ll have to let me know how you like it tomorrow morning.”

You stared back at him, shifting on your feet. "Can I show you something?" he asked, the door still wide open. A chance to leave. Of course, you’d take it. Faking compliance, you carefully stepped towards him. As you crossed the threshold of your room, you allowed him to place a hand on the small of your back. "The room right next door," he said.

Your eyes were anywhere but that door. You were scoping out the entire hallway. There were two more doors across the hallway, perhaps one of them was Rafe’s, and you spotted the staircase. The walls were painted a muted beige and adorned with several rustic paintings. The scent of mahogany lingered in the air, likely one of Rafe’s attempts to make this place feel like a home rather than a prison. You couldn’t turn your head far as Rafe was urging you forward.

“I’ve been working on something,” When Rafe opened the door, you stepped inside a brand new nursery room, “Rose helped with the decorations, but I can change anything that you don’t like.”

The wallpaper was decorated with blue flowers and little woodland creatures. A wooden crib sat in the corner, a white canopy draping right next to a rocking chair. The window on the far side of the room also looked out onto green pastures. Shelves on the walls were already adorned with toys and baby books. It was surreal. Beautiful and horrifying. You clutched your chest as you slowly walked around the room.

“Rafe,” was all you could manage to say.

“I didn’t get a lot of clothes yet. I knew you’d want to pick those out,” His arms raised up, scratching his head as if he was nervous to see your reaction. Over the crib, you noticed the space-themed mobile you had picked out at the store gently hanging down. "It’s a good start, right?" he added, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

“It’s literally perfect,” You couldn’t lie at that moment, “Rafe, d-do you really think I would be that horrible of a mom on my own?”

“No,” He rushed out, his face falling, “What? No, I don’t think that.”

“I could never give my baby anything like this.”

He came closer, but you stepped back, “That’s not what I’ve been trying to say with all of this. I think you’d be a great mom. You’re gonna be a great mom.”

You needed to hear those words. Maybe Rafe was the wrong source but you needed that confirmation. In a moment of weakness, you let him closer. He wiped your tears as they began to fall, “It’s not about what you have, but I’m telling you that I won’t let you do it on your own,” He wrapped his arm around your waist and tear-eyed, and you let your head rest on his chest, “I’ll take care of every little worry. All you have to do is agree to be mine.”

“If you really care about me,” you said softly, letting him run his hands over your hair. “You’ll let me make my own choices.”

“Y/N–”

“I appreciate everything you’ve done. I really do,” You lied, “And I want this. I promise. I know JJ is no good for me or the baby. Could you just give me a little bit more time?”

“You’ll go back to him,” Rafe said. His grip on your waist tightened, and you pulled your head away from his chest, gazing up at him.

“It’s not your baby. You know that, right?” It was the wrong thing to say. His nostrils flared, and your heartbeat quickened. There was no reeling it back, so you pressed him further, “Even if we don’t end up together, I wouldn’t keep his baby from him. That’s wrong.”

“What he’s done to you is worse.”

“You’re right,” You said, trying to maintain the calm, “I know that now. And I understand that you care about me-”

“Do you understand? Really understand? Huh?”

“Rafe-” You pushed at his chest, and he grabbed your wrists tightly. Your eyes widened as you struggled against him, “Please don’t hurt me.”

Powerless, he held you there, “I’d love your baby like it was mine, I would. And soon after, we could have our own. That’s what I want, for us to be a family,” Each word was low, tight, and controlled as he glared down at you.

“Okay,” You agreed, scared more than anything, “I’m sorry.”

“I’ll show you,” He was completely cold now, “If you don’t believe me, I’ll show you. How you deserve to be treated. Everything I can give you. Then you’ll see, huh?”

He forced you down to the plush blue carpet with his body weight. You weren’t used to how your center of gravity had shifted, how your belly was also keeping you from being able to push back against him, “Please,” You said over and over again, your arms flailing until he pinned them above your head. You were out of breath already, and you had to slow your movementsand stop your struggling just to catch your breath. In this position, the baby is pressed against your further against your diaphragm, “Rafe, don’t.”

He just looked at you hungrily, grunting as he pulled down your bottoms and underwear.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” He reached between your legs, and you felt your body freeze, “Fucking gorgeous … I’m so lucky.”

You might’ve swooned in any other context. You were more swollen and much more sensitive, meaning you felt every caress that he made. You didn’t want to, but your head tilted back as he carefully rubbed your sensitive mound, “I’ll make you feel good … haven’t been touched in so long. Daddy’s gonna take care of you,” You told yourself that your body was just reacting, that it didn’t matter how good it felt because you didn’t ask for it. He kept your hands pinned only using one of his, as he used his other to undo his jeans. When he finally freed himself, able to palm his growing hardness through his briefs, he let go of your wrists. On your elbows, you tried to pull yourself away and you caught a glimpse of a smirk on his face. He liked this. Watching you struggle and attempt to crawl away.

You yelped when he grabbed your hips, pulling you back and lifting them up at the same. He was inside of you before you could fully comprehend it. You could handle it if he thrust hard into you if he destroyed you fast, but Rafe took his time with you. There was no rush or hurry in his movements. He went as deep as you would take him, and his long strokes left you crying out with each one.

You could handle it if it weren’t personal, but Rafe leaned over you and stared into your eyes with fierce determination. He talked you through every rush of pleasure, “I know, baby,” He’d coo when he knew it was too much, “Feels too good, don’t it?”

“I know you’re gonna cum for me,” He’d say when your eyes threatened to roll back into your head. “Cum all over me, baby,” He said when you finally couldn’t take it anymore.

When he spilled into you, your body froze again. He cursed, his hips rutting into you. You felt every drop of him, and he didn’t pull out until he’d fully emptied himself inside of you. He sits back on his knees, and you hear him pull up his zipper.

You flinched when you felt his hand on your thigh again.

“I’m sorry.”

What exactly he was apologizing for, you had no idea.

Rafe had gotten what he wanted because you didn’t speak out of turn once over the next two days. At some point, you expected the cavalry to arrive and come save you, but that hope shrank with each passing day. He invited you out of your room, and each time, you denied it. You easily recalled what happened the last time you left your room. You had all you could mentally handle within the room, and Rafe would bring you all three needed meals and snacks. You were quiet when he started the conversation, but you mustered up a few sentences for him when he grew frustrated at the lack of back and forth.

You should have been focused on escape, but all you could think about was never letting him do to you again what he had done on the nursery floor. Being pregnant already made you feel like you had no control over your body. Rafe amplified that feeling, making you feel even more vulnerable and easily manipulated given your current state.

You spent most of the day sleeping, punctuated by long baths or staring out the window. Rafe woke up early each morning to tend to chores, the animals, and the early summer harvest. The vast expanse of land meant you didn’t see all the animals during the day, but in the afternoons when he fed Wrangler and Sadie, many of the animals rushed to the fence, hoping for scraps.

“Got you some books,” Rafe said when he came to see you around dinner time. To your disappointment, he wasn’t carrying any dinner with him. He set the stack of books on the dresser before adding, “And I ordered pizza.”

“Thank you,” you said, resting your head back down on your pillow, hoping that meant he’d bring it to you later.

“Come watch a movie with me, I finally got the surround sound set up.”

“I’d like to eat up here, please?” You asked quietly, “I don’t feel good.”

“You haven’t felt good since you got here.” You let him sit in silence, “You’ll come eat downstairs tonight, Y/N.”

This was the first time you felt he was forcing you out of your room. You didn’t have the courage to upset him, so you lifted yourself out of the bed. He watched you intently, as if waiting for your compliance, aware of your recent streak of obedience. The way the look on his face softened was obvious, and you hated how relieved that made you feel.

This time, he led you down the staircase, his hand gently guiding the small of your back as you held onto the railings. As you descended, you caught a glimpse of the front door, sunlight streaming in from the setting sun, but Rafe guided you in the opposite direction.

You passed through a large dining area with a substantial dark wooden table near the front of the house, then continued into a cozy living room. A plush sectional couch faced a massive stone fireplace, underneath which neatly stacked firewood awaited use. Above, a large flatscreen TV was mounted on the wall, flanked by windows dressed in simple, cream-colored curtains. Adjacent to the windows, a bookcase filled mostly with DVDs caught your eye.

He took the time to show you the downstairs bathroom and laundry room before leading you to the kitchen, which was located toward the back of the house. It was straight out of a magazine, spacious and well-appointed, complete with a charming breakfast nook. Many of the touches seemed to reflect Rose's influence, and seeing the rest of the house gave you a clearer picture of just how well-off he was.

A box of pizza sat atop the kitchen island, and Rafe pulled out one of the stools for you to sit on.

“You take care of this place all by yourself?” You asked as Rafe helped you into the seat.

“I’ve had some help,” He shrugged, “But I won’t need much help anymore now that you’re here.”

“You’re expecting me to take care of the house?”

“Someday soon,” he spoke nonchalantly, opening the pizza box. He grabbed a slice straight from it and started eating so you assumed you could do the same. He added with a slightly full mouth, “Better than working at The Wreck.”

You took a bite of your pizza, not wanting to delve into that conversation further. You should’ve known he was expecting you to be a homemaker. Now that you were gonna be a Mom, you didn’t need to have any career aspirations.

You picked at your slice under his careful eye. This house exuded a warmth that almost drowned out the coldness you felt toward Rafe. You took the time to map out all the windows and doors and the downstairs layout. It kept your mind busy and, combined with the food, provided a helpful distraction.

“Are you feeling better now?” His voice cut through the silence.

“I’m fine.”

“You still like those cheesy rom-coms?”

A memory flashed in your mind. You saw Rafe sitting across from you on his bed. A huge party was going on downstairs in Tannyhill, but you and he were upstairs watching a movie. You wanted so badly to show him Enchanted. He didn’t act impressed at the time, but you could tell he liked it because he couldn’t keep his eyes off the screen.

“Yeah,” You answered cautiously, though the truth was that you hadn’t had time to enjoy a movie in long time.

“I happen to have a few Patrick Dempsey movies … if that interests you,” He smiled, trying to tease you.

“I really should get some rest . . .”

“A movie will help you relax. Just one? C’mon, we can watch Can’t Buy Me Love,” Realizing he wouldn’t let up, you gave in.

You sat on the couch as he moved to set up the movie. You should’ve known that he would sit right next to you, his arm wrapped around the pillows directly behind you, “Relax, enjoy the movie.” He said as the movie’s intro began, and you did your best to appear more like you were. When it wasn’t sufficient, Rafe pulled you closer until you could only lay against his shoulder to be comfortable. You tried to focus on one of your favorite movies and there were moments that night when you completely forgot your circumstance.

Yet, every additional touch brought you sharply back to reality—whether it was the gentle circles his thumb traced on your arm or the tender kisses he placed atop your head.

Please let me know what your thoughts and predictions are! Reblog with a comment to be added to my taglist!

#dark fic #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x black!reader #outer banks smut #black!reader #obx fic

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n0tamused · 2 months ago

Note

Have you by any chance seen someone on Twitter posting a translated version of Xiangli Yao's daily schedule? How about writing something like what his schedule would be with the reader (already in a relationship) maybe on a day off? Something like: 8:00 AM - get up and start day 10:00-12:00 AM snuggled in bed with y/n as a result. Or - 4:00 PM - prosthetic maintenance. ambushed from behind. (Imagine nuzzling him from behind while he tinkers with his hand 🥺) Something like a bunch of small drabbles in 1 work? I guess finding someone to write for him awakened something in my brain, I'msorry.

A/n: I have heard of this schedule but tbh I didn't see it myself before I got this request lol, I really find the idea sweet so I hope I did it justice! And no need to apologize, I am happy to write for Xangli Yao

Contents: Xiangli Yao x GN!Reader, fluff, short drabbles, established relationship not proofread

Saturday:

08:30 - Wake up

It’s been many years since Xiangli Yao has practiced this continuous cycle of waking up at certain times, to the point he did not need an alarm clock anymore. It was 8:14 when he came to his senses, morning light sleeping through the blinds and softly caressing his eyelids to open. He turns away from them, shifting sluggishly underneath the blankets, knowing that work wasn’t waiting on him today.

He is greeted by your sleeping face, relaxed and soft as the few spots of light from the blinds danced over your cheeks and lips. The light didn’t seem to disturb you, something he was thankful for as he shuffled closer and wrapped his good arm around you, bringing you closer to his warmth as he nuzzled his nose into the top of your head, breathing in your scent as your hair tickled his skin. He feels you mold into his shape, your sleep heavy arm going underneath his and over his side, the blanket keeping your shared warmth trapped, shielding you from the chilly morning.

09:30 - make breakfast with my beloved :)

Well, it may have been 9:10 by the time you both willed yourself to leave the comforts of eachothers arms. It was hunger that pulled you both from bed, stumbling into the bathroom. Xiangli Yao was next to you as you washed your face while he brushed his teeth. He handed you your toothbrush after you blindly found the towel next to the sink and brushed your face dry.

Although he had gotten used to being the one to prepare breakfast for both of you during workdays, the weekends did allow more time, and so Yao did try to listen to you more when you said you wanted to help or do more of the work since you don’t usually get the chance to do so. He did convince you some times before, letting you so simply sit aside and look pretty while he whips you up your favorite, but today wasn’t that day. You woke up with more energy and a craving for good quality time and to get your hands busy.

What ends up happening is a table full of food, a big but balanced breakfast of veggies and fruit and needed protein. While you were setting up the table, Xiangli Yao poured you both the juice you made the weekend. He may not think about it too often, but he always feels like the richest man in the world when he shares mornings like these with you.

13:00 - go to the market, restock groceries

His prosthetic arm is holding the basket while the fingers of his other hand are intertwined with yours. Xiangli Yao was yet to become truly used to these public displays of affection, but he never disliked them. The thing was that such little acts of affection flustered him so much at first and he’d rather not catch someone ogling him while his cheeks are red as the tomatoes you were looking at now. He was used to it, he tells himself as he slowly lets your fingers slip from his hold when you say you can use some of the tomatoes. He remembers you mentioning a recipe some time ago that required a good amount of tomatoes. He helps you pick out the best ones and he adds it to the basket after the purchase is done. Although today’s shopping trip ended with more bags than either of you expected, Xiangli Yao vehemently refused to allow you to carry any of the bags.

You ended up stopping at the local dessert shop, purchasing a few sweet goods for home. You mentioned how the chocolate cake he got looked oddly similar to Xiang-LEE. Now he couldn’t unsee it..

16:00 - prosthetic maintenance(p.s. keep your back guarded!)

How oddly homely it felt to have your arms around him while he tinkered away on his mechanical arm..

Although at first you only observed him from the doorway, he chose to skillfully ignore you when you began to sneak closer, almost as if he couldn’t see you from the corner of his eye.

You knew he knew too, but it's a game you both chose to play every evening when the sun began to lean in to kiss the mountains.

You hum as you put your chin on top of his head, peering down at the assortment of open wires and metal plating scattered about on the table. There's a screwdriver in his good hand, and he's clearly doing something, but you're unsure what. Perhaps you'd ask one day, tell him to explain how his arm really works, but that is not today.

He feels you leaning in and kissing his cheek and then his temple.

“The meal is soon to be done. Don't keep me waiting all alone at the table, Xiangli Yao”

19:00 - Free activities

Xiangli Yao can't help the chuckle that escapes him as he witnesses your scowl and furrowed brows, and all for the little board game with black and white pieces. You've won the round from last night and he deemed it appropriate to ask for a rematch, although he only wished to make you blow off the steam. You've been rather stressed this week, perhaps some back and forth of the game could allow a reprieve.

“You've been thinking about your next move for quite some time now, my love…” he tries, a smile plastered on his lips, both amused and sympathetic.

“...I got it…shh” you return, pushing your chin into the heel of your palm. He hums in response, and another few heartbeats of silence pass before he sees your face light up, as if a star had whispered the next act into your ear. Your fingers deftly move across the board and move your piece across the checkerboard.

“Checkmate!”

He laughs, his chest shaking with joy as you beam at him. You beat him. Again.

22:30 - bedtime

Mornings are where Xiangli Yao thrives. He is a morning person to the last bone in his body and on work days it is not rare for him to rise before you and his alarm, but they don’t bring him nearly as much relief and joy as bedtime does. Your sleepy face as you go to brush your teeth and change into your bedwear always has his heart softening, his own movements slowing down as his entire body yawns for the comforts of the mattress and comfortable blankets.

He is sitting at the edge of the bed, tinkering with his prosthetic arm for the last time and setting it aside on the table right next to his side of the bed. His prosthetic is cold and rather uncomfortable to sleep with for both of you. From behind he hears you exiting the bathroom and the sound of your bare feet against the floor hurrying up has him turning around to see how you crash into the bed, your face buried into your pillow with a low groan, a breath of relief as weight is taken off your feet.

He shuffles, telling you to get under the blankets while he turns off the lights. Once he remembered you both joking about being afraid of the dark, and although it was all just a joke - Xiangli Yao has been the one to turn off the lights since then.

He hums as he returns, sliding under the blankets and finding the warmth of your body with searching fingers, pulling himself closer until he was wrapped around you. He buries his nose into your hair, inhaling your scent before laying a lingering kiss to your cheek, bidding you goodnight.

#-dragon.treasure #fluff #xiangli yao #wuthering waves #wuwa #wuwa xiangli yao #wuthering waves fluff #wuthering waves xiangli yao #xiangli yao x reader #xiangli yao x you #xiangli yao x rover #xiangli yao x gn reader #gn reader #xiangli yao imagine #wuwa fluff #wuwa x reader #wuwa x you #wuthering waves x you #wuthering waves x reader

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aurumalatus · 14 days ago

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𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 [𝟔]

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 3.5k

genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff and angst, drabble collection, descriptions of blood and injury, panic attacks and anxiety

summary.

in which kinich learns the value of all things: lives, friendship, and, of course, you. or, in which kinich realizes that you are the only priceless thing in this world.

author's note. first off, sorry for the late chapter ;-; but the next chapter sort of marks the start to the second half of the story, so i hope you guys look forward to that! some parts of this chapter are a bit intense so please heed the warnings! please let me know if you enjoyed! reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!

↢ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ↣

𝗜𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗗𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗜𝗧'𝗟𝗟 𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗙𝗘𝗘𝗟 𝗔𝗟𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧

As you make slow progress toward recovery, Kinich can’t expel the image of you bleeding out from his mind.

The village doctor had rushed to your home, undeterred by the blanket of night falling over the land. The woman practically thinks of you as her own daughter, after all, with the amount of work you’ve done for her over the years. She stitches up your wound with a careful, practiced hand.

(Kinich stands at your side as it happens, your hand grasping his in a bone-crushing grip. He tries not to cry when you start to scream out in pain.)

She commits you to bed rest. You whine and argue against it. Kinich fights with you about it. You make up like you always do, but you stare longingly at the door every day when he leaves to work.

Time passes, and you do get better. He thanks the archons before he sleeps for that fact, truly.

But the guilt doesn’t cease.

It prods at him in the dead of night, wrapping his stomach in knots as he tosses and turns. Even when he can hear your soft, even breathing across the room, a deep terror takes root in his chest. Nightmares lurk and haunt his rest, and sometimes, even when he wakes up, he has trouble believing that you’re still alive—it all feels too real when it’s in his head.

Even in reality, you’re decidedly…different. The weakness of your smile, of your hand in his—he can’t quite get used to it. It’s all part of your healing process, he knows that deep down, but he can’t shake the feeling that he had a role in all of this.

On one night, the feeling of sin finally manages to gnaw through his chest.

He wakes up in a cold sweat, shirt sticking to him like a second skin. His blankets are already strewn about the floor, likely from his erratic movements. His gaze slides over to you, still peacefully resting, and he sags with relief. The pain keeps you awake sometimes, so it’s a miracle that you’re sleeping soundly for once.

With that in mind, he eases himself out of bed quietly, tiptoeing past you and into the hallway. He heads for the bathroom—a splash of cold water over his weary face might be just what he needs. The moonlight filters lazily through the window, uneven slivers painted over the wall. He yawns, letting the door shut behind him.

The mirror sits above the sink.

It’s one of the more expensive things you have in your house, but you’d gotten it for a good deal at the flea market—Kinich had bartered for what felt like hours. You’d gushed over the artistry of it, the glass intricately framed with braided knots of silver. Kinich hadn’t really understood back then—a mirror is just a mirror, after all—but he’s not keen on saying no to you. He never has been.

His reflection stares back at him, haunting in the gloom.

When he looks at himself like this, he sees his mother. He doesn’t really remember the sound of her voice anymore, but he remembers her eyes, her hair. So much of him had been inherited from her.

Most days, he tries not to think about where she might be—he doesn’t see a point in asking questions he’ll never know the answer to. But he does wonder if she thinks of him, if even for a fleeting moment of her day. Then, he wonders if she remembers him at all.

(Maybe she doesn’t want to.)

His reflection frowns.

Locks of dark hair shine in the lowlight, the streak of blond distinct against the plain backdrop. The paleness of it, even when braided back, still reminds him of his father. A flash of a rage-filled glare strikes through his mind.

“Kinich—Kinich, help me, please!”

The voice—

He chokes.

Kinich stumbles back from the mirror, the sight of his own reflection suddenly horrifying him. No matter where he moves, he can’t seem to escape it, golden eyes—no, his father’s eyes—following as he staggers around the room. A ghost’s frigid fingers grip around his shoulders.

It was his fault.

The room suddenly shrinks inward. Something icy and unseen grabs at Kinich’s heart and yanks until a struggling gasp is ripped from his lungs. The vase on the windowsill tips and cracks against the wall, shards skittering across the floor and water splashing against the backs of his calves. It’s shockingly cold, shooting shivers up his back and fraying his nerves.

Someone is screaming. His mother.

“Kinich?”

A faint voice reaches his ears, but he ignores it in favor of the thoughts pounding around his skull. The memory of his father’s corpse hangs at the edges of his mind. He looks back to the mirror, fingers curling into his hair, scratching at his scalp.

The blond streak is still there.

He sees his mother, begging and screaming, bruises littering her skin. Actually, she’s not screaming at all—he still can’t remember her voice. But she’s looking at him, grasping at his feet, and her lips are moving but he can’t hear—

“Kinich? Are you there?”

His hair—his father—seems to leap out at him, bursting from the mirror and grasping at his neck. The pressure leaves him scrambling to breathe. He thinks of the cliff, of his choice.

Echoes of footsteps pad down the hall, and he panics.

No, no. You’re going to see him, and you’re going to know what he’s done. You’re going to look at him with disgust and fear, and you’re going to leave. He hadn’t been enough back then, and he still isn’t now—no matter what he tries, nothing changes.

It’s your fucking fault! This is all your fault!

Another voice roars in his head, the hatred almost palpable with each syllable.

He clutches at his chest, desperately feeling for the heartbeat there—he feels like he’s dying, rotting from the inside out. His hand slams against the wall, nails digging painfully into the wood, clawing.

“Kinich?!”

Your voice comes again, more panicked now. You can probably hear the chaos from outside.

There’s no time.

He seizes the blond lock in his left hand, the right scooping up a ceramic shard from the floor and holding it to his head, right near the roots of the hair. He has to get rid of it—he’s panting, mouth dry and burning at the same time.

A firm knock on the door has him halting in his tracks—only a few strands of hair catch the sharp edge of the shard, floating uselessly to the ground. His chest heaves, uneven breaths puffing from his chapped lips.

He pauses. The shard clatters to the ground next to him, dropped from his grip. Slowly, he clambers to his feet. He brushes his clothes off once, then twice, before steeling himself to face you.

When the door swings open, it’s your face that greets him.

“Is everything okay?” you ask, eyes wide with concern. Hesitant, you reach for him—your shirt rides up with the movement, revealing starch-white bandages tinged with red. You’d irritated your wound in your panic to get to him.

He almost vomits at his feet.

He catches your hand before it reaches his cheek. He doesn’t deserve your comfort right now—maybe he never did. But your gaze is still so fond, so soft, as it falls upon his face.

“You haven’t been sleeping well,” you murmur, lacing your fingers with his. A faint frown paints your lips, wrought with worry. The thought is almost ridiculous—you both have only been worrying about each other all this time. “What’s going on?”

And Kinich knows he should tell you. He should do a lot of things when it comes to you. He should tell you he’s sorry for everything he’s put you through, that he knows he’s not good enough for you right now but he hopes to be, that he hopes you’ll wait for him to be that person.

But he doesn’t say any of that.

Instead, he lets a deep, shuddering breath escape him. The only way to repay everything you’ve given him over the years is to be strong. If he can protect you, he can be useful to you.

So he takes the weakness sprouting in his chest and crushes it in his hands, letting the ashes go. He’ll bury them with this night—starting tomorrow, he won’t worry you again.

Gently, he raises your hand to his lips, brushing over your pulse point. The steady drum of your heartbeat brings him some semblance of comfort, at least. The weight of your stare lifts from his shoulders when he meets your gaze head-on.

“I’m fine, just knocked something over,” he finally chokes out. “Let’s go back to sleep.”

A few days later, the whispers of a rumor begin.

The sky is still reddened with dawn when he heads out, greatsword secured to his back. It’s newly-sharpened, courtesy of you. With your range of movement limited, you don’t leave the house much these days—you pass the time by cleaning and cooking, despite Kinich’s pleas for you to remain in bed. You’re antsy to do more, even while your healing progress slowly chugs along.

The outpost is already bustling by the time he shoves the door open, slinking inside. The place usually runs rampant with work, with people searching for deliveries or other odd jobs. They seek him out often, knowing how often he visits, and he welcomes the extra Mora.

For some people, it’s a more social place—they enjoy a drink at the small bar between deliveries, chatting and laughing. There’s one such group already here, the clink of glasses audible even this early in the morning. Kinich’s nose wrinkles in disgust at the stench of alcohol.

On the back wall is the request board, a place for people to advertise any long-term jobs. Kinich favors these sometimes, on days where the weather is better, just so he can maximize the amount of Mora he takes home. When he makes his way over, there’s already another man scrutinizing the requests. Weathered papers dot the wall, some yellowed with age, some pristine white and newly-posted.

“Hey, kid,” the man greets. It takes Kinich a moment to realize it’s him he’s referring to—he offers a short nod in reply, a bit confused. Most people are familiar with him to an extent, but rarely do they try to interact.

He just starts to read another Saurian hunting job when the man speaks again.

“That earthquake a week ago…they found some ruins in the South. Rumor has it that it’s holding some kind of awesome treasure, and no one’s quite made it through yet.”

He gives Kinich a once-over, sweeping eyes reflecting a faint respect—his reputation precedes him, apparently. Kinich shifts his weight, arms crossed, a challenge. Seemingly pleased by his confidence, the man chuckles.

“I’ve heard you’re a strong one. If you’d like, we’d have you join our party.”

Kinich regards the man with his own criteria—he looks experienced, arms criss-crossed with scars as evidence of battles long won. But even Kinich himself is still young, so he knows years don’t equal strength.

“What’s in it for me?” he sighs, feigning boredom. “For all I know, I could head in there alone and not have to split the spoils.”

The man’s smile widens, practically splitting his face.

“I like your spunk, kid. How about this, if you make it all the way down there with us, I’ll even let you have first pick.”

Kinich ponders that for a moment—it’s not a bad deal. Though it’s not his preference, working in a group can make long-term investigations like this go much faster, and he suspects that he’ll be able to assess the value of whatever treasure they find better than anyone else. In short, he’ll be guaranteed the greatest share of Mora, without using all of his own personal effort. Objectively, it wouldn’t be his worst decision.

If he can make a good amount, he can buy one of those cakes you like from the market.

Your smile would be well worth it, he thinks as he shakes the other man’s hand.

The dangers of the ruins had not been overstated—even halfway through the place, Kinich finds himself matted with blood and grime, muscles aching with overuse. Already, many have turned back, and as many lives have been lost. Only a few remain, those desperate enough to see the task through to the end, resting in one of the safer areas before continuing deeper toward the treasure.

Kinich reaches back, testingly feeling the stone wall behind him—it’s damp, but stable, so he leans back against it, sliding down to sit on the ground. Even down here, flowers grow through the cracks in the stone, tenacious in their bloom. It reminds him of you.

He wonders if you’re resting well, if you’d stayed in bed like you promised.

“You got a girlfriend back home?”

He flinches at the sudden address, and he turns to see the man next to him—he can’t remember his name—smirk and nod at his bandana. He’d been thumbing at it unconsciously, the only source of comfort in this dark, stinking place.

“I know a woman’s work when I see one,” the man chuckles.

Kinich wonders if he should mention that he actually taught you how to weave, then decides against it—he doesn’t really care what this man thinks anyway. Somehow, he doesn’t feel an urge to discuss your existence with strangers.

“No, I don’t,” he replies quietly instead, and it’s the truth. There’s no title between you two, nothing to define the course of your relationship—in fact, the closest thing would be something informal, like “roommate”. The thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

The older man observes the way Kinich gnaws at his lip, bothered, before offering a comforting pat on the back. It’s a bit friendlier than Kinich is used to, but he supposes it comes with the wisdom of age—somehow, the act reminds him of Elder Leik.

“Not a girlfriend, then, but something, right?”

Something feels wrong to say—too vague, too uninvolved. When he imagines the pulsing in his chest, it’s your hands cupping his heartbeat, holding the very core of him.

Everything would likely be a more proper term.

His teeth grit, flashing in the dark.

“Sure, something like that.”

“You should tell her, you know,” the man sighs, leaning back against the wall. Kinich wonders how the man is practically reading his mind. “At least before you get old like me.”

Kinich knows he’s a bit more mature than other people his age, a result of his upbringing. And usually, it can be an advantage—he’s independent and self-sufficient, unlike most others. But it’s times like these that he wishes he would’ve lived a normal life, going to school and playing until dusk fell. Social skills have never been his strong suit, and he often finds himself saying the wrong things.

He can’t afford to do the wrong thing anymore when it comes to you.

It’s always been entirely unintentional, but these days, he can’t seem to do anything but hurt and disappoint you. And now you’re at home, alone, while he goes out and risks his life. Briefly, he ponders what would happen if he never made it home.

Would you cry? Would you move on?

Would you find someone else?

It’s hard for him to imagine a version of himself that doesn’t have you by his side.

He wants to keep it that way.

He really, really likes your smile.

Kinich finally turns to face the man next to him, jaw clenched with determination. The man smirks, seemingly expecting that reaction.

“Got somethin’ to say, kid?” he asks, raising a brow.

Kinich nods, staring down at his hands.

“After this,” he affirms, more to himself than anyone else. “After this, I’ll tell her.”

And, as always, Kinich finds himself alone.

He can’t exactly say what had happened to the others—then again, he hadn’t tried to look. Monsters seemed to leap at him from every turn, and he couldn’t focus on much more than his own survival.

On his way back out of this place, he’s sure he’ll come across their bodies one way or another. He’ll try to give them a half-proper burial, he thinks.

The ruins descended far further than he had expected—a pulsing warmth seems to emanate from this place, layering sweat over his forehead. A heady scent of smoke lies thick in the air, rising toward the unseen ceiling. Kinich has to be careful with his steps—the place is so weathered and worn, he fears that the floor might give out beneath him.

He isn’t sure what he expected to see at the bottom. Treasure doesn’t usually appear in cartoonish chests filled with shining gold coin, after all. But when he inspects the ruins around him, all he finds are pale stone walls with a single pedestal in the center.

Cautiously, he approaches, eyes sweeping for danger. If the treasure is something truly valuable, it wouldn’t be out of the question for it to be booby trapped in one way or another. But he walks up, each step light and gentle, and nothing happens.

He sheathes his sword, peering down at the treasure laying over the smooth stone.

It’s a wristband, thick and engraved with a language he can’t understand.

The style of it is different than most he’s seen—somehow, it looks a bit more modern. But even historical fashion items don’t tend to sell for too much, he thinks in disappointment.

Essentially, he’d wasted his time coming down here.

He picks up the wristband, inspecting the design of it. Then, tentatively, he slides it on.

A burst of heat cracks through the air.

“Who dares disturb the Dragonlord K’uhul Ajaw?! Speak now, mortal, or I’ll pound your puny face in!”

A tiny, yellow, pixelated dragon bursts forth, and Kinich’s jaw just about drops.

Treasure comes in many forms, of this he is sure, but this seems to be more of a burden than anything.

It—no, K’uhul Ajaw—whirls on him in apparent rage. Kinich can’t really tell with the ridiculous sunglasses sitting on his face.

“Hey, I’m talking to you! Is there a brain in that puny head of yours, or are you just deaf?”

Kinich sighs. Whoever had started this whole rumor must be having a great laugh at his expense.

“I can hear you,” he replies monotonously. “I just don’t particularly want to talk to you.”

Ajaw grows angrier. Kinich wonders if it’s just his default state.

“Then why did you come all the way down here? Are you stupid?!”

“Well, I was told there was some sort of powerful artifact here,” Kinich admits. He glances toward the ceiling, gauging how long it’ll take him to climb out of this place. “But it seems that they lied.”

Ajaw reddens in rage. “I’ll have you know that I am that artifact! My awesome power is beyond anything your mortal mind could possibly hope to comprehend!”

Kinich thinks it’s obvious why this dragon would’ve gotten locked in these ruins for so long—his personality is loathsome. Whoever sealed Ajaw likely had only done it to rid themselves of the grating sound of his voice.

Still, he can sense the deep thrum of potential within him. He’s likely not lying about having incomprehensible power.

Ajaw fixes Kinich with what he can only receive as a judgmental stare.

“Why did you come all the way down here anyway? Are you looking for revenge? Trying to topple a nation?”

Ajaw proceeds to list a series of awful atrocities—Kinich zones out halfway through the war crimes. He’d come down here for Mora, but mostly, he’d come down here for you.

He thinks of your smile, and a pink flush washes over his face.

“I have someone I want to protect.”

It’s silent for a moment as Ajaw absorbs the implications of his explanation and the blush on Kinich’s face. Then, he laughs, a shrill sound like nails on a chalkboard.

“You come all the way down here seeking power, all to protect some puny, peasant, mortal girl—”

It’s quite an assumption, not that he’s necessarily wrong. Kinich’s jaw tightens.

“—don’t speak about her.”

A sobering chill crackles in the air, filling the cracks in the ruined stone and sinking onto his shoulders. Ajaw seems to feel it too—he hesitates at the pressure, suddenly devoid of his earlier haughtiness.

“...I see,” is all he replies, calculated.

Ajaw floats languidly towards Kinich, circling him. “Well, I’ll admit, I can sense something different about you. So, luckily for you, I’m willing to make a deal with you.”

The tone of his voice is laced with foreboding. Kinich crosses his arms, cautious.

“What kind of deal?”

Ajaw chuckles—the sound echoes hauntingly, running a chill down Kinich’s spine.

“Don’t be so scared,” he barks. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little dying.”

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kinich x reader #kinich #genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #kinich x you #adeptus ink

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datsyuks · 1 month ago

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A Little Moment

Summary: A small moment with Quinn after a long day at work.

Quinn hears you come through the door but he doesn't move. He leans his head against the headboard and closes his eyes. Envisioning you hanging up your jacket on the coat rack then bending down to tuck your shoes into the bottom of the shoe rack. Taking the black scrunchie on your wrist and tying your hair up, if you haven’t done that already in the car. The metal details of your purse hitting the kithen counter as you set your purse down. The rattle of your coffee mug hitting the kitchen sink meant that you were almost done. almost to the bedroom. almost to him. and he missed you. He knew by your one word texts today meant that you were swamped at work. He knew that your other coworkers were trying to slide past you for a promotion. He wishes he could bottle up all your worries, but for now he sits on the bed, book in hand, waiting for you. You open the bedroom door and the soft bedside table light hits your face. His eyes snap open and gives you a small smile. He knows you aren't one for much conversation right when you get home from work. You disappear into the bathroom and turn the shower on. Not being able to focus on the book in his hand, Quinn closes his eyes again and hopes you notice he set your towel in the towel warmer that just came in from online and set some chocolate chip cookies he got from the market on the counter. Meer minutes feel like seconds when youre in the bathroom because soon you come out and toss your clothes in the hamper. "Hey baby," he says softly. You climb onto the bed, crawling up to him and lightly kiss him on his cheek, his short stubble is rough against your lips, "hi." Your voice is soft, exhausted. He dog-ears the book page and sets it down on the otherside of him as you lay your head down on his chest. His other arm wraps around you, slowly scratching up and down your back. Soothing your mind from the terrible day. You close your eyes and snuggle closer to his chest. The two of you lay in silence, just listening to each others breath. His hand travels all the way up your spine to your hair, gently massasing your head. The both of you didn't need to talk. You knew that you should listen to Quinn and get a better job, a job closer to his apartment where you spend a majority of your days and nights in, a job where you can get time off so he can whisk you away to long weekends at the lake house. But now you lay on his chest as his fingertips knead out all your worries, because you know the place your truly safe is in his arms.

#quinn hughes #nhl fanfiction #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #q.hughes

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daisynik7 · 1 year ago

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Nanami adores you. Absolutely, unconditionally, infinitely adores you.

He loves the way your lashes flutter right before you wake up, your bleary eyes instantly brightening when he flashes that good morning smile at you, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. He loves it when the two of you brush your teeth together in the bathroom, sharing the sink, nudging elbows, smirking at one another with toothpaste foaming in your mouths. He loves the sound of you humming the song of the week in the kitchen, preparing your coffee in the same mug you use every day. There is the tiniest crack on the handle from when it slipped from your grasp while you were washing dishes over a year ago, distracted by his hands around your waist, kissing the nape of your neck.

He loves how excited you get when you roam the farmer’s market on Sundays, intrigued by every single stall, delighted to try a different food truck than the previous week for lunch. The two of you share croissants this time, one of Nanami’s favorites, and he just loves watching you take a bite of it, flakey crumbs catching on the corner of your mouth. Because he loves reaching over to you, tracing the outline of your lips, wiping it away as you grin at him.

He loves the lazy afternoon naps with you, snuggled closely on the couch, a movie you’ve seen before playing quietly in the background. He cradles you in his arms, listening to your soft, steady breathing. He memorizes it; cherishes it. Having been thrown into the world of Jujutsu Sorcery, Nanami realized when he met you that he will never take any of this for granted. He loves everything about you, even the most mundane, ordinary things. It reminds him that he’s human, that he’s capable of living a normal life, not just one doomed in the hands of a curse. He can experience love in the purest form, all because of you. There’s nothing more special to him than that. No one more special to him than you.

#nanami kento #kento nanami #nanami fluff #nanami kento fluff #kento nanami fluff #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami fanfic #nanami drabble #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jujutsu kaisen fluff #a palette cleanser after all the nanami smut I wrote LOL #divider by @/saradika #nanami imagines #jjk nanami

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anlian-aishang · 3 months ago

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Levi with an (Episodically) Depressed S/O

Tags: levi x reader, angst, hurt-comfort, gn!reader Word count: 900

Levi invites you to shower with him, making the obstacle less daunting and much more attractive. In his black robe, leaning on your bedroom door, two towels slung over his arm indicate the knowledge that you will say yes and accompany him. The way that he looks, the low plea in his voice, how could you say no?

It would be more accurate to say that he was bathing you, but he does not phrase it that way. Instead, he is humble, letting his actions speak louder than words. He does not tell you that he will shampoo your matted hair, does not flaunt how deliberately he exfoliates your limbs, he just does them for you. Some days, even just tipping the bottle or pumping some soap into your hand can seem mountainous. On those days, he sees those activities not as tasks, but as privileges. It is his honor to be the one looking after you in your most dire time. He would always prefer someone to take care of rather than someone to miss.

Showering together not only ensures that you stay clean, but his company prevents you from those timeless sessions sat on the tile floor. At the moment you look refreshed but before you become sleepy, he jerks the handle to the left and halts the devastatingly relaxing rain.

Always, your clean clothes are already folded atop the bathroom counter, waiting for you. Some times, you fail to remember that you did not put them there. Other times, you notice the sign of his relentless consideration, but are artificially silenced from expressing your gratitude. No matter in his mind. You are clean, clothed, and out of bed, and that’s already better than you were before.

Without one complaint, Levi scoops your dampened towel and old clothes from the wet bathroom floor and drops them in the hamper for you. He has seen the piles that can amass, and if it were anyone else in any other circumstance, the clean freak would be quick to chastise, but any sight or thought of you disintegrates any instinct to discipline. You are sat in the living room, admiring the ivy that swirls around the balcony’s posts, thumbing the petals of the bouquet vased on the coffee table. White-gold rays move just a tad west to cast your figure in therapeutic light. You’re too tired to move away from the sun, and for once, Levi finds your fatigue favorable. As the morning temperature rises, he can see that your resting smile does as well.

While you are entranced with the scenes of summer, Levi swiftly searches for and alleviates the areas you have left neglected. He dumps your sock drawer upside down and mends the pairs that you have discarded as singles. In your closet, he finds the clean pile and dirty pile and either folds it or washes it accordingly. Under your bed, on your nightstand, in your bedside drawer, he discovers the dirty dishes that have been missing the sink and returns them to their proper place.

Between those tasks, he rolls his shoulders back or rubs the side of his neck and allows himself to sigh. It is difficult - not to bandage these tiny wounds - but to see the harsh bruises left by the illness. Sure, you were forgetful, and not quite as tidy as he was, but still - the mounds of laundry, hidden dirty dishes - this wasn’t like you. Levi lives for your joy - not the superficial smile, your peace - not the misleading silence. He lives for you - in sickness and in health. The times you forget your worth, that is when he whispers it in your ear. When the world is overwhelming you, he lets his touch communicate it.

Once your space is in order, he can start to work on getting you to leave it. Rather than annoying reminders or obligations, he mindfully manipulates the steps of treatment into desirable invitations. Rather than Do you want to… or Would you like to…, his proposals are statements, taking the responsibility out of your hands. Concerts in the park this afternoon. Let’s go to the farmers market. Apple orchard just opened.

Or even less far away.

Plants look thirsty, water them with me? Rain just cleared, read on the porch with me? Full moon tonight, stargaze with me?

To you, with me frames the activities, frames your presence as favors for him, and even in your lowest state, you are always keen to help him with anything. To Levi, it is no framing, your relationship is the greatest gift that fate has bestowed on him, and he treats you as such. It is in his selfless actions and his careful words, but it is more than that, traits you can’t quite categorize. The near flat, subtle smile you wake up to in the morning. The tight yet painless combs through your hair that leave you feeling divine. The low, calming timbre of his voice, decorated with a tender tone that he reserves for you.

Even before the haze you’re in now, you’ve never been able to label those qualities of his, and instead settled: it’s just who he is.

Like the sentiment that motivates his care: it’s what you deserve.

// masterlist //

#Optional A/N: I've been away from tumblr for a while. I had absolutely no expectation that anyone would notice #so please don't feel bad if you didn't notice! <3 #i was going through - and am still going through - some intense health problems; mental and physical #so that's why i was gone~ but i've started mental health medication and it's starting to help me.#i can tell because today was the first day that i wrote fanfic in all of 2024 <3 oh how i've missed it #but i've missed the friends i have here more.#sorry for my random leave. please know it was not you - it was me #and my neurons originating in the raphe nuclei located in the midline of the brainstem that failed to make sufficient serotonin :')#anyways thank you all love youuuuuuuuu #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi #levi ackerman #levi x you #levi ackerman x you #aot x reader #snk x reader #aot x you #snk x you #2024 #angst #headcanon #my writing #anlian writes #alias's #depression tw #tw depression #depression #mental health #tw mental health

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cmdrfupa · 4 months ago

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Nanami x Reader

cw: sick terminology (our pookie is having tummy troubles), suggestive if you use a magnifying glass, overall fluff

thank you to @/saradika-graphics for the dividers! 💕

Art in header by the talented @nikawa_2ji! 💕

Being sick isn't exactly something that occurs for Kento. Together for seven years, you could attest to him being ill once. A 24-hour fever he overcame in 10. This bout certainly wasn't the case.

Kento went to the bathroom attached to his home office, clinging to what he felt were the last remaining pieces of his spirit while hurling for the third time since 4 am. Throwing his eye patch to hell for all he cared, he took his white t-shirt off, placing it under the running water before wrapping it around his neck. The cool sensation gave temporary relief from the wretched sensation of nausea.

Kento entered the hallway, thinking he was fine, only to begin dry heaving again.

"Ken?" You sat the container of flour down, turning your head to listen. He'd been up for a while, and you assumed he was out for his morning jog and maybe stopping at the market. "Kento? You okay?" Nothing.

"Ugh, fucks sake." he groaned as you heard a thump.

Taking your apron off, you hastily move toward the living room—another spell of retching leads to the hallway instead. The dimly lit hall brought you to your poor husband.

A shirtless, clammy, and disoriented Kento sat against the wall in the darkened hallway. "Hi, dear."

You crouched before him, touching his forehead to check his feverish skin, which immediately alarmed you. You pursed your lips before speaking up, "You're burning up, baby.."

"I don't know what's wrong. My stomach feels like it's being tossed around in a dryer," Kento spoke, taking short breaths between words, his light hair sticking to his forehead.

"We'll figure that out. But let's get you back to bed. Can you get up?" You placed your shoulder under him, and he slowly wrapped his arm around you, boosting himself up. "What have you eaten in the last 24 hours?" As you strolled, he shuffled beside you, his arm slung over your shoulder.

"Well, we had lunch here at the house, and then Itadori-kun and I went for a seafood dinner at a restaurant Kugisaki saw on social media."

Sitting him on the side of the bed so he could lie down, he propped himself against the pillows. "We had some sort of paella and maybe a few too many crab legs."

"Shellfish."

"How do you know?" Bringing his legs up on the bed, you fluffed the pillows behind him and brought the sheets out in case he needed to cover up.

"It seems to be the possible culprit from what you've told me. Or maybe someone handling your food was a bit unhygienic?" You walked to the bathroom, looking for the first aid kit under the sink to fish out a thermometer and anti-nausea medication. Finding it, you made your way back to Kento's side. "Open."

Eyes closed, he followed orders, the twisting pain in his stomach sending a shiver through his body. The beeping of the thermometer made him focus. "What's the verdict?"

"101.1, which means you're in bed until this passes."

A groan left the sickly man's throat. "It'll pass in a few hours, I'm sure.."

"Your optimism is cute," you kissed his head. Just focus on resting. I'll get you some water to start rehydrating, then get things cleaned up." You placed the nausea medication on his bedside. "And if the room starts feeling like a tilt-a-whirl, let one of these melt on your tongue."

The trip to the kitchen was quick, and upon returning with a glass of water, you watched Kento struggle to open the foiled Dramamine package.

You slide the package from between his nimble fingers. "I've got it, honey."

"What about the plans for my birthday? Gojo will be a nuisance if he thinks I'm faking to avoid his party."

"I know you weren't super excited about the party Gojo was planning, but I'll threaten him if he tries to get fly with me."

"My darling angel of a wife, thank you." He opens his mouth, and you place the tablet on his tongue.

"You owe me, Mr. Nanami." With a wink, you get him comfortable in bed, placing another pillow behind him as he begins to doze off. "I'll come check on you in a bit."

Kento wasn't sure when you got your wings, but he appreciated having an angel to tend to him. So patient and willing to be by him. Honestly, he didn't know when you got the halo, either. He didn't think you were a full-blown angel until this moment. "A literal angel, wow-" words slurred, and your wings seemingly much more vibrant to him as he passed out into a deep sleep. Ken promised himself he'd verify the angel allegations when he was more fit for thinking.

Day 3 of the stomach virus showed progress despite a rough start. Kento kept trying to force himself to feel better, thinking cat naps would suffice over a good night's rest. But his nausea was a reminder to take it much slower. He watched you prepare for work: a simple black knee-length dress, nude-colored stockings, and his favorite shoes. "The Manolo slingbacks?" Kento perked up in bed. "You know, I'm feeling much, much better today."

You peeked from out of the bathroom. 'You're supposed to be sleeping, not checking me out."

"My love, I'm feeling better than before."

"That's not how this works. You still have a fever, and rest will help get rid of it."

"I am resting; I'm in bed, having bone broth, and not working."

"If you don't want me to go to work, all you have to do is ask."

He'd be lying if he said he didn't want you to stay. He had not tried his luck the past two days, but today was different. Kento was needy and required more comfort to sleep. Was this the man cold? He thought he was above that.

"Please. I promise I will sleep if you stay home with me today."

Your heels clack against the wooden floor as you go to his side of the bed. "Take your aspirin, eat a few more spoons of porridge, and I'll hold you while you sleep." a gentle smooch on his cheek earns a soft smile from him. "Let me call Gojo and tell him he'll be handling training today."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Nanamin. I didn't know he'd get sick! I ate way more than he did and felt perfectly okay this week." you called Itadori a few days ago to see how he was feeling. He was more than okay, finding him out with his peers shopping when you called.

Now, he sat across from you in the dining room, a gift bag decorated with 'get well soon' craftily written across it sat next to him as he ate another croissant. The teen was worried he'd killed the man just from the restaurant recommendation alone. "Is he going to be okay?"

"Yuuji, nothing you've done is the result of this. The food didn't sit well with him." You take another sip of coffee before reassuring the stressed teen. "He's been resting and getting better the past four days. He'll be better and back on campus by the end of the week."

"Well, can you let him know I dropped by?" Yuuji stuffed the last of his croissant in his mouth before sipping the hot cocoa and dusting his hands on the napkin. "Some of us got together and made a care package. Gojo made him some ladyfingers, Takuma got him some cool handkerchiefs, Nobara bought him one of those spa gel masks for his frown lines, and Fushiguro found an apron that says 'kitchen boss' he thought he'd appreciate… we want to keep his spirits up while he gets better."

"He'll appreciate knowing you stopped by. And the thoughtful gifts." Grabbing a small container, you went to the kitchen in a few paces. "The rest of these are yours. I'll be closely monitoring Nanamin's food intake for a while, and pain au Chocolat won't be helpful." You strategically place the croissants in the container, handing them to Yuuji. "Be safe getting back to campus."

"Will do, Mrs. Nanamin! You're amazing. I'll call to check on him tonight!" The teen hugged you quickly before making his way out of the door.

"Are there any objections?"Nanami looked around, confident there was nobody idiotic enough to-"Wait! Please!" A pale blue-haired worm slithered down the aisle. The guest gasped in shock as the tubular creature began to morph into a human. "Don't go through with this. I love you more than life itself." Mahito stood in front of you, naked with a ring box in hand.Nanami looked at you, eyes wide. "My beautiful bride, please. Please think of the life we're building. I love you so much."" I'm sorry, Ken. I tried hiding my feelings, but my heart is with Mahito." You let go of Nanami's hands, rushing into Mahito's embrace. "Happy Birthday… Nanamin." The wickedness of Mahito's tone brought Kento to his knees.The guests all stood and began to chant, "Over time for eternity," as the church hall slowly faded into a pool of purple liquid.Gojo kneeled next to Nanami. "Kento, it's not the end. You still have me, yeah?.. honey… Ken?" Your sing-song voice was filling his head."Gojo? You sound like my wife."

"Gojo?" confused, you shook his shoulder to wake him. "Kento, wake up."

He sprung up, lungs empty and gasping for air as he looked around.

"You aren't Gojo!"

"Do you want Gojo?"

Profusely shaking his head, "I'd rather not."

"You were having quite the fever dream, it seems."

"It was an absolute hellish nightmare." He grabbed the water from the bedside, glugging it before you took the glass from him, sitting it down. "How long have I been asleep?"

You smoothed his bedhead hair, kissing Kento's temple before lying back with him. "Well, after lunch yesterday, I couldn't wake you up to save my life, but that seems to have been a good thing. Your fever broke. How are you feeling?"

Kento wrapped his arm around you, pushing the covers off with his free hand. A soft huff of comfort released as he felt the midday breeze flow through the room. "Makes sense; I feel so well rested. My stomach feels so much better. But Itadori-kun and I will have our weekly dinners here at home for a while."

"That's more than okay with me. I like it when he visits. I'm always glad to see him, and he also seems happy to come over."

"He'll be happy to know this. Our next dinner is for my birthday; he's been trying his best not to spoil my gift."

"We have plenty of easy-to-digest meals for the next few days while your stomach settles."

"Yes, dear," he playfully retorted. Nothing sounds better than an easy-to-digest birthday dinner," he jested, pulling you into his bare chest.

"Oh yeah. Yuuji brought you a care package. He and a few others put some rather lovely items in."

Eyebrows raised, Kento seemed surprised. "Itadori was here? Not sick?"

You nodded. "Left about an hour ago."

"How am I the only one who got sick?"

"To be fair, the boy likes to eat. And he did eat an ancient finger once, so.." shrugging your shoulders as Kento attempted to stifle a laugh unsuccessfully.

"You bring up a fair point. He can put it away."

Rubbing his belly elicits a quiet hum of a familiar tune. He stops and peers over to you. The rays of the midday sun cast a beautiful golden hue across the bed and onto your shoulders. Kento studied the soft features that structured your face, the feel of your plush leg thrown over his as you hummed the Jimmy Eat World melody. The lack of almost claustrophobic closeness over the last few days has done a number on him.

His rich brown eyes found yours, and warmth crept up the nape of your neck as his lids lowered. "I have something planned for us."

"Something planned?'

"I didn't want you to plan anything for my birthday because I did. It's a birthday and pre-anniversary getaway of sorts. We're going to the hot springs."

Your lips puckered, landing pecks across his chin and neck. "Hot springs? Kenny baby. Do you know how perfect that sounds?"

"Indeed I do. Two weeks of solitude with my angel baby."

"Two weeks?"

"Two. Weeks."

"2 whole weeks?"

"Darling, if you repeat after me again, I'm going to assume you can't hear me."

Getting three consecutive days was pulling teeth. "What did you do to make Yaga go along with two fucking weeks?"

Kissing your shoulder, he brought your hand to his mouth. "Not much." lightly began to kiss each of your fingertips. "We just have to visit the Kyoto campus," He pressed his lips to your wrist to feel your pulse. "For a few days."

"Hm." you squinted as you read between the lines. The exchange event wasn't quite yet, but there were talks of development training that needed a few more grade 1 sorcerers for demonstrations— "You volunteered us for that combat training."

Kissing your palm and making his way up to the crease of your elbow, he wriggles between your legs until hovering over you.

"Nanami Kento."

"Are you going to be upset with your stomach pain-riddled husband? On his birthday, no less. Who loves you more than life itself? Who worships every cell in-"

"I'm getting a new swimsuit," you said, stopping his sweeter-than-honey ramble and kissing his chest. And I'll make sure Gojo reschedules the party, birthday boy."

"And I'll be there with a shit-eating grin the whole night. My wife is getting a new swimsuit for my eyes only. I can sit through 2 hours of Gojo and everyone else. Best birthday ever."

#jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanami x you #jjk kento #jjk nanami #kento x y/n #nanami fluff #lu.logs

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patrophthia · 2 years ago

Text

fairy of shampoo | theodore nott

pairing: theodore not × reader

genre: fluff, (maybe) miscommunications, crushes, confused feelings, we’re besties with draco (he’s annoying) (affectionate), not beta read

wc: 3.8k

this is a combination of this and this requests ! i hope you like it!! theo content for the win!!

taglist: @tr4ppola

If he really tried to think about it, he could recall the first time he'd ever saw you. He was eleven, standing on platform nine and three quarters with his father by his side. You were talking to someone sitting across you with a pout, he was blond, hair platinum as it could be. His father slips a bag into his pocket the same second you looked out the window.

Your eyes met and he could tell that his father had just given him this month's allowance. You smile at him and he distractedly bids his father goodbye. And if he were to remember it correctly, this was when you'd planted his heart in a rose-coloured fantasy.

He climbs on to the train, and the longer he spent trying to find you within the carriages he passed, the quicker he'd realised that he'd already forgotten your face. You, who he now childishly deem his one, and only fairy.

It wasn't long until he saw you again, not that he knew that it was you, his (and he cringes when he thinks of this now) fairy. You were now an acquaintance of his, and apparently a friend of his dorm-mate, the spoiled brat: Draco Malfoy.

He remembers it more clearly now, every single aspect of his life that has been affected by you. He blames it on Malfoy for always dragging you wherever he went. And he blames it on himself for thinking that you were too pretty for your own good.

Pretty enough to be in a shampoo commercial even. Maybe then you'd be an actual fairy; a fairy of shampoo.

Sometimes you forget just how rich the Malfoy's were until Draco invites you to stay at his lake house with him and his Slytherin friends over the summer. And seeing as you've both known each other for so long that even your parents had grown annoyed with one another, you'd had your stuff packed and brought over before summer even started.

Draco was quick to take up the master bedroom, assigning you the room next to his just so he could easily come in and annoy you. You didn't really mind it, your room has a bathroom attached to it; it connects your room to another.

You'd shared this room with Draco before, a double sink in the bathroom being a great source of morning conversations. You always stayed at the other side though, just so he could be closer to his parents but still close enough to you for him to barge in and bother you whenever he liked.

Pansy took the one opposing yours, Blaise just down her hall leaving the one connected to yours for Nott to take up.

Day-one activities consisted of the five of you going to the local farmers market to shop for groceries. Draco —and the others for this matter, didn't like this idea much, but you were all grown up now, you should be able to handle this without the help of house elves.

"Strawberries?" Pansy says. "Have we gotten them yet? I really like them."

You nod. "Yeah, we got a few pounds of it. Is that okay or should we get more?"

"No it's fine," she answers. "We can always come again for more."

Draco groans at her words. And you roll eyes, reaching over to smack his arm. "Don't be a lazy brat."

"I'm not being a lazy brat," he says defensively, "it's hot and we could easily have someone else do this for us. We could be spending this time doing something else."

"Doing what exactly?" You retorted. "It's not like you're getting laid anytime soon."

Blaise snorts at your words as Malfoy mumbles under his breath. "Is your father going to hear about that?"

"Fuck off, Zabini."

The five of you continue on your trip around the market, stopping by for occasional snacks and you start to suspect that Draco enjoys this much more than he lets on whenever he spots a new shiny toy.

It didn't take long for you to finish up with your groceries, so to treat yourselves, you'd decided to head over for something refreshing. You'd settled on ice cream, approaching the closest parlour you could find.

"Hey, I'm about to go order," you say, standing a short distance away from Theodore who had yet to order unlike the other three. "Which flavour do you want?"

Theodore took a glance at you, then after a second he turned back the window that had him preoccupied just minutes before. Okay, that was rude.

But you chopped it up to him being the introvert that he is, so instead you went up to Draco and asked him about his friend. "Which one do you think he likes? I asked him and he straight up ignored me."

"Maybe he just didn't hear you," Draco suggested, then adding; "or that he didn't want anything."

"But then again, this is Theo we're talking about, who knows what he's thinking." Draco takes a bite out of his sorbet, pondering for a second. "Just get him vanilla, it's basic, everyone likes vanilla."

With two cones in hand, one for you and the other for Theodore, you cautiously approach the tall Slytherin. "Draco told me to get you vanilla," you said, smiling up at him. "Is that okay with you? I could get you anothe—"

"It's fine," Theo cuts you off, reaching for the cone you were about to offer him. If his tone had an affect on your attitude, you don't let him see it. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Your voice drops barely above a whisper, clearly done with this conversation. "Should we head back then?"

Theo only nods. And you try your best to not let it get to you, he was reserved when it comes to new people; you know this. Then why does he still close himself off from you when you've known him for the last seven years of your life?

Mornings at the country lake house were one of your favourite things, it's quiet and you always wake up feeling restful and content. You got up from your bed and made your way to the bathroom. A twist at the knob and turn had you entering it in no time.

You went up to your side of the sink and it's only when you reached for your tooth brush did you notice the blurry figure beside you. "Good morning," you greeted with a soft smile without much thought, beginning your morning routine by brushing your teeth. "How'd you sleep?"

"Fine," he says. He wants to say more but he can't think of a single thing to tell you. He wants to tell you how much he likes standing here with you right now. He wants to tell you how much he both loves and hates being around you because he always, without fail, ends up a frozen mess. "How did you?"

"It was good." At least he's making conversation. He finishes up brushing his teeth and you're more than just relieved. It's not easy talking to someone who clearly doesn't enjoy your company. "I'll see you in a bit then."

Theodore hums in acknowledgement and turns towards his room, shutting the bathroom door behind him. It's only when he's gone did you realise he'd only worn sweats to sleep.

Blaise was kind enough to make breakfast for everyone, and Theodore was lucky enough to be the first to get a taste of it.

"Good morning," he greets the brunet, his back to him as he keeps eyes on his cooking pancakes. "Princess' not up yet?"

"No," Theo answers, going over to his side to help plate each person's portion. "And you know she hates it when you call her princess right?"

"Yeah," Blaise says with a slight chuckle. "But she always looks so mad when we call her that, it's funny."

"You say that as if she doesn't cuss us out whenever any of us calls her that," Theo retorts, him adding extra of the things he knew you liked on your plate not missed by Blaise.

Blaise only shrugs, "you get used to it after a while."

Theo only hums as a response. And after a second, he decides to tell Blaise about something that has been plaguing his mind since he woke up this morning. "She said good morning to me."

Blaise' brows furrows. "Okay?"

"I didn't say it back."

"Oh so she hates you know." Theo scowls at him and Blaise can't help but laugh at his crushing friend.

"You're supposed to make me feel better."

"Well it's not my fault you're an idiot," Blaise retorts, "it wouldn't be this difficult if you'd just ask her out."

"You know I can't do that."

Draco walks into the kitchen. "And why can't you?"

"I don't know how to explain it," he says first, now setting up the table with Draco's help. "I feel like I'm walking on clouds when I talk to her and yet I can't find the words to express how I feel and always end up making her upset with me."

Draco shares a glance with Blaise. This must've been the most they'd heard him speak in one morning. "Oh so you're whipped?"

"Who's whipped?"

Merlin was not on Theo's side this morning. Because why else would you be here while he's having this conversation out of everything else he could've been chatting about?

"Nott," Draco snickered.

"Oh." Your face falls and he hopes more than anything that you were disappointed, or maybe even jealous at the prospect of him being into someone other than you. "Good luck then."

Pansy who'd come into the kitchen with you, and stayed by your side as she listened in; only frowns at your word. "Why do you sound like that? Don't you want to know who it is?"

"I do," you murmured. "But it's not like he's going to tell us who it is anytime soon."

"And why not?"

"Are we talking about the same guy? It took me three months to get a word out of him," you retorted. "I doubt he's just going to tell us who he's dating."

"Not dating per se, just crushing," Blaise corrected.

"Theo has a crush?" Pansy gasps. "How exciting."

"Don't act surprised," Theodore scoffs, taking a seat at the table. And, as if he was pointing out that the skies were blue, he adds: "You're standing right next to her."

"Are you sure, princess?"

If you didn't have as much on your mind as you did, you'd tell Blaise off. But there were bigger matters at hand, so instead you decided on a friendlier reply. "Just go on, I'll join you in a minute."

"Okay," he says with a slight frown, now that you're not telling him to go do something inappropriate with himself for just calling you princess. He's starting to wonder if you are okay, but he'll let you tell him all about it at your own time, so instead, he says: "If you say so."

He tosses you his towel and you put it to your side, watching him as headed towards Draco and Pansy who were on their second attempt at drowning one another. Yeah this is going to be a long day.

You tried to be logical, but every logical thought points towards one conclusion: Theodore Nott likes you.

Because who else could've he been talking about when he said his 'crush' was standing right next to Pansy. Unless he meant the air on the other side of her? But that's insane, he couldn't possibly mean that. And, in all honesty, you think that he couldn't have possibly meant you.

It could've been a joke but Theodore has a look on his face, one where you could always without fail tell that he was planning a joke, and you were sure that he hadn't worn that look when he'd said it. And even if it was a joke, this was a very cruel one for him to tell.

The sound of sand dipping a short distance away catches your attention; to your right Theodore sat on the sand as he looked straight ahead.

He must've felt you looking at him, there was no way he couldn't have but he was showing no signs that he knew whatsoever.

You clear your throat. "You're not going in?" He turns to you, his hair —now outgrown and floppy, flies in each and every direction. He then shakes his head. "Why not?"

He turns back to the other three in the water. "I didn't want to leave you here alone."

"So you're keeping me company?" A nod of his head tells you all you need to know. Plague with questions and questions and questions, all of which Theodore related, you can't help but ask him. "Why?"

"You know why."

"No," you say. "I think I know why, not that I actually know it."

"Does your thinking involve me having feelings for you?" A nod from you cues his next response. "Atta girl, that was right on the nose."

Feeling restless at his words, you got up onto your feet and made your way over to where he sat. "I don't get it," you say first, and as a response, Theo looks up at you. "I don't get you."

Theo's face showed no emotions. "What don't you get about me?"

"Just yesterday, you blatantly ignored me and then today you say that you have feelings for me out of nowhere?" You say frustratingly, and Theo feels bad, he really does, for finding you so cute that he could barely hide his smile. "How am I supposed to believe you?"

He only blinks at you. "You just do."

What. You squint your eyes at him, "are you serious right now?"

"I am," he says, frowning. "Is it that hard to believe?"

"Yes," you say exasperatedly. "If you have feelings for me then why do you always treat me like shit?"

He thinks for a second. He could either tell you the truth, which was that he's kind of in love with you and he was terrified of speaking to you because he didn't want you to find out or change the topic completely. "I'm going for a swim."

?!?

That's what you get? For asking him questions about his feelings for you? Were men always this complicated? "You're just going to ignore me?"

"I'm not." He slips his shirt off, heading into the lake where your three friends were trying to not be obvious about how they were listening in.

"You're not what?" You ask him, trailing after him.

"I'm not treating you like shit nor am I ignoring you," he says finally. "I just don't know what to say."

Dinner is quiet. The tension can be felt by everyone and no one —not even Draco, dared to point it out. Something was going and as worried as they were about it, they were much more afraid of what their friend would do to them if they said something about it.

So instead, the three of them decided to be good and enjoy their meal without so much as a word. "Didn't know you could cook, Theo."

Theodore looks up from his plate and at Pansy. Her eyes suddenly went wide, feeling like a deer caught in headlight. So to ease herself out of the situation she adds. "This is delicious."

"Thanks," he murmurs lowly, turning back to his plate.

You watch as Blaise, Draco, and Pansy share a look. Blaise soundlessly ushering out a "what was that?"

Pansy, looking panicked, responded. "I don't know?! It was getting too quiet."

"You do know that you can just talk normally right?" All eyes turn on you. "No reason for hushed whispers, you know?"

Blaise looks at you bashfully, " 'course."

"Sorry," Pansy muttered. "We were thinking of having a Bonfire actually."

"That sounds fun," you nod, wordlessly waiting for Theo's response. "Do you want to join?"

Theodore looked up distractedly, and shook his head once he'd processed your offer. "No, I think I'll head to bed early."

The four of you accept his answer as is, tidying up the table before you bid him goodbye and went to the backyard. Pansy was quick to start a fire, especially with magic at her aid.

Once you've all sat down, Blaise passed each of you a bottle of butter beer and threw over some snacks. "It's really nice out tonight."

"It is," Pansy says in agreement, tearing open her bag of chips. "This is nice."

The conversation was strain, an invisible barrier clearly in the way of you and your friend. You look up at the stars, clocking in each star you spotted. Vega. Altair. Draco.

The blond yawns loudly, "Nott would love this."

Blaise snickers, "I thought we weren't going to mention him."

"And why not?" You ask. "Just because I'm here? He's still your friend, you can talk about him all you want."

"A friend who's been in love with you longer than you've known him," Draco murmurs, taking a sip of his butterbeer. And when the other turns to scold him, he rolls his eyes; clearly unbothered. "What? Princess here needs to know sooner or later."

"Don't call me princess," you say first, tone stern as it could be. "And what do you mean he's been in love with me longer than I've known him?"

Blaise shook his head. "You need to talk about this with him yourself."

"And how am I supposed to do that?" You countered. "The reason I'm in this mess in the first place is because of how he'd never speak to me. Now you want me to talk to him about his feelings? Do you hear yourself?"

"I know it's difficult," Pansy chimes in. "It's not exactly in his nature to talk much. But that doesn't mean you can't get anything out of him. You just need to go slowly about it."

"You want me to go slowly?" You don't really know how you feel. On one hand, you're upset with your friends that they've been hiding Theo's feelings for you from you for who knows how long. And on the other, you're mad at how they're telling you to go slow despite how fast everything has gone. "Just this morning I thought Theo hated me, and then out of nowhere I got told that he's been in love since before I even knew him. How am I supposed to go slowly with this when everything is going faster than I could think?"

The group falls silent, putting themselves in your shoes as they try to think of a way to help you out with your predicament.

Then finally, Pansy asks the question the others had been thinking about. "Do you think —that even for the slightest bit, that you could like him back?"

You frown. "I haven't really thought about it."

A part of you has, and Draco knows it, he was your best friend, you've told him everything you have ever thought of. And he knew that, despite you never actually having feelings for Theo, that if he ever were to ask you out, you'd give him a shot.

"Go talk to him," Draco says. "If you don't I'm telling your parents you're having unprotected premarital sex."

He's doing this for your own good, or at least he convinces himself that he was. And when you call out his bluff, he pulls out his wand; ready to send a patronus message any second.

"You can't make me do that."

"Oh yeah?" He says testingly. "Watch me, expecto—"

Wanting him to shut up, you got up from your spot and shot him a pointed look. "I will kill you the first thing next morning Draco Malfoy."

"Yeah yeah," he only waves you off with an amused smirk. "Just use protection."

You stood outside your door. Wondering whether you should knock on his bedroom door or find him through the bathroom. Deciding that the latter was somewhat creepy, you nervously land a set of knocks on his door.

A second goes by before the door swings open. Theodore stood tall in plaid pyjamas pants and a forest green sweater, his hair a mess. His figure barely lit aside from the lamp on his bedside table, a book laying half open beside it.

Not really knowing what to say, you settled on a simple. "Hi."

"Hi." Theo shuffles to the side, inviting you in.

You stood in his room as he shut his door. He sits him on his bed and looks up at you. Your eyes met and just before you chicken out, you ask him. "Can we talk?"

"Aren't we already doing that?"

Since when did he get so snarky? "Okay," you murmur. "Well I wanted to talk to you about today."

Many things happened today, you'd have to be more specific is what he didn't say. Only keeping quiet as he waited for you to go on.

"I guess I'm just a little confused," you tell him. "Do you actually have feelings for me or are you messing with me?"

He stares at you for a minute before asking. "Don't you think it's a bit cruel to mess with you by saying so?"

"That's exactly what I thought," you let out frustrating. "But then again you're the one who's been ignoring me all these years and then you decide to drop that you have feelings for me out of nowhere. So I'm sorry if I think that this is a cruel joke."

"I would never joke about how I feel for you."

"Then please tell me how you feel," you say. "Because I'm driving myself mad trying to understand you."

Theodore pities you, pities how you don't understand just how desperately into you he is, pities how he had to explain to you just how much you mean to him and just how stupid he's been for not telling you all these years.

He thinks and thinks and thinks. Trying to find the right words to articulate how he feels. "I fell in love with you the moment I saw you."

He stands and walks over to you, and you hate how you have to crane your neck up to look at him. "Which was?"

"First year," he says, "platform nine and three-quarters."

Seeing as you can't recall ever meeting an eleven year old kid with dark hair and dark eyes. You decided that he was a liar. A cute one at that.

"I met you again when I became friends with Draco," he tells you. "And at first I hated you, not because there was anything wrong with you but because you were pretty and you were nice, and that you made me speechless every time I saw you."

"I only thought people like you existed in fairy tales," he says. And you have to fight back the urge to vomit at how cheesy he was. "When I do talk to you though, I always get a feeling I can't explain in words. But I'm willing to try my hardest if you’d give me a chance."

"A chance to?" You draw out.

"You know what I'm asking." He murmurs, a hand reaching for yourself. You let him take it, intertwining his fingers with yours in the process. "Don't make me say it princess."

"If you’re asking me on a date then your chances were ruined the moment you called me princess.”

He finds himself smiling at your words, eyes kept on you as he tries to memorise your face. He'd forgotten it once and he won't let it happen again.

— from bee: i don’t really like this but oh well, feedbacks/notes/reblog are incredibly appreciated!!

#theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott imagines #theodore nott fanfic #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott x hufflepuff!reader #theodore nott humor #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott #theo nott x y/n #theo nott x reader #theo nott x you #theo nott fanfiction #theo nott fanfic #🧳: my writing

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delicatebarness · 6 months ago

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cry baby | chapter two

Summary: No one protects you like your big brother.

Warning: Violence. Toxic Men.

Word Count: 1774

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A/N: STEVE. Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as it is mine. - B

The Friday evening sun began to dip below the horizon, a warm amber glow casting across the small town. Inside Natasha and Wanda’s apartment, you all gathered for your usual Friday night hangout. The place was buzzing with conversation and laughter about the previous week.

You were perched on the edge of your chair, fidgeting with your phone. Surprisingly, you had a change of plans for the night. Your third date with John was lined up, looking over at your two best friends, you sought their help. Whispering your plans to them so the boys couldn’t hear, you watched as their eyes lit up with excitement.

“You’re ready for the next stage?” Wanda gasped, they knew you had put yourself on the dating market but had yet to hear you speak of any of them going further than a couple of dinners and a peek.

Natasha grabbed your arm with a conspiratorial grin as she dragged you toward the bathroom. The boys, Steve, Sam, and Bucky looked up from their friendly yet competitive card game, puzzled.

“What’s happening?” Sam called out, eyebrows raised.

As you disappeared into the bathroom, Natasha called out “Girl stuff!”

The bathroom was dimly lit, crammed with every beauty and skin care product you could dream of. The girls immediately got to work, sorting through their baskets.

“Alright, legs,” Wanda said decisively, holding up a pink box of wax strips. “We’re going to make the smoothest they’ve ever been.”

You hesitated, eyeing the box with trepidation. “I’ve never used…”

Natasha waved off your concern. “It’ll be fine, trust us.”

With a nod, you agreed. Lifting your dress, you watched as Natasha warmed a strip between her hands, then pulled the scrip apart. “Ready?” she asked while pressing it firmly onto your leg. She didn’t wait for your answer.

You cried out a yelp of surprise and pain, tightening your grip on the edge of the sink, steading yourself. Within a moment, the bathroom door burst open.

“What happened?” Bucky demanded, his eyes scanning the room as he stormed in. His face was a mask of concern.

The three of you froze, staring back at him in shock. Bucky, with his leather jacket flaring and his hardened demeanor was the last person any of you expected to see in the middle of a waxing session.

It took him a minute before he realized the scene before him. His expression shifted to one of awkward embarrassment. “I, um, I thought I heard my name,” he mumbled, he tried to look anywhere but our gazes.

Wanda crossed her arms and shot him a curious look. “Really? In the middle of girl talk?”

Natasha scoffed, and you couldn’t help but let out a slight giggle despite the sting on your leg. His cheeks flushed a faint shade of pink, something you believed only you had seen before.

“Yeah, well…” he trailed off, taking a step he muttered. “Just making sure everything’s alright,”

Before he escaped, his gaze momentarily met yours. “Thank you,” you mouthed toward him, a smile tugging at your lips. He gave a small nod before fully backing out of the room and closing the door behind him.

Natasha and Wanda exchanged an amused look, Natasha shaking her head. You smiled, a feeling of affection for your little group.

As you carried on preparing for your date, you felt more ready than ever.

As you finished work that afternoon, your phone buzzed with a message from John. Despite Bucky’s previous warning, you couldn’t help but feel curious about him. You found yourself agreeing to meet him that night for dinner.

The restaurant was a trending spot in the town, the ambiance was a stark contrast to the bar. Warm, inviting with soft lightening. When you arrived, you spotted John waiting for you at a table for two. Wine glasses are already filled with red wine, not a drink you would usually opt for. He greeted you with a charming smile from his seat, you noticed there was something about his demeanor that felt off.

“You look beautiful,” he commented, his eyes scanning you from head to toe in a way that reminded you of Rumlow.

“Thank you,” you replied. “You look nice too.”

While settling into the night, a soft murmur of conversations and clinking glasses created a comfortable backdrop.

“So, how was your day?” John asked, his eyes flicking around the restaurant as if he was distracted.

“It was good, busy… but good,” you replied, fidgeting with the material of your dress. “How about yours?”

“Pretty hectic,” he said, not elaborating further. “But it’s nice to unwind, I’m glad you could make it,” he smiled while reaching for his wine glass, and taking a sip.

Through a forced smile, you returned the gesture, “Me too,”

Arriving to take your orders, the waiter greeted you and asked what you’d like. Barely glancing at the menu, John ordered for both of you. “We’ll have the steak, medium-rare, and another glass of your best red wine,” he stated, handing the menus back without consulting you.

As the conversation flowed, you found yourself unable to relax. He was somewhat easy to talk to, but his stories often returned to himself and his accomplishments. He barely asked about your interests or life. When he did, his attention waned quickly.

“Tell me more about these drawings you do,” he asked while his eyes already began to wander around the room.

Excitement filled you as you smiled. “I’m working on a series of sketches. They are inspired by the city, and how I see home.”

“That’s nice,” he trailed off, cutting you off before you could explain more. “I’ve always thought ‘artists’,” he gestured air quotations while speaking. “Were a bit… dreamy, you know? Head in the clouds, not grounded in reality.”

Your smile faltered, “It’s an art… it’s about expressing a different perspective.”

“Sure,” he said dismissively. “So, it’s just a hobby then?”

You felt your heart begin to race, and your cheeks heated up. “I’m hoping to have a gallery show soon,”

He nodded absently, clearly not interested.

As the evening progressed, the conversation turned to John once again. You were told about his joys for hiking and his soft spot for action movies. However, his charm was as forced as your smile. His comments start to border condescending.

At one point, he turned the conversation toward friends and family. “Your brother and his friends seem pretty tight-knit,” he remarked.

“Yeah, we’re a family,” you replied, smiling fondly. “They’ve always looked out for me.”

“Isn’t that a bit… smothering?” he asked, a slight mocking in his tone. “Don’t you get tired of them treating you like a kid?”

Before you could try to defend your brother and friends, the door of the restaurant swung open with a forceful push. Along with the rest of the diners, your attention was pulled toward the sound.

As you turned you witnessed Steve striding in, his presence commanding as he marched into the room. Beside him, Bucky closely followed. His expression was unreadable as he positioned himself by the door.

“Steve?” you gasped as you raised from your seat in surprise at the unexpected interruption.

Ignoring you, Steve’s gaze locked onto John, recognition flickering across his eyes. There was a silent exchange passing between them.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the big brother,” John commented, his tone laced with sarcasm as he leaned back in his chair, taking another sip of wine. Steve clenched his jaw as his fists tightened at his side, glaring down John. Without a word, he strode over to your table.

Before John could react, Steve grabbed the scruff of his shirt, yanking him to his feet not giving him a chase to find his balance. John’s eyes widened as he stumbled.

“You listen to me,” Steve growled, his voice low as he held him firmly in his grip. “Stay the hell away from my sister!”

A silent battle of wills unfolded before you. You glanced over at Bucky, your eye teary from previously taking in the sight of your brother and date. Bucky met your gaze as you silently pleaded for help.

His expression softened as he recognized the distress in your eyes. Gazing over to Steve, he stepped forward, placing a hand on your brother’s shoulder.

“Let’s go, Steve,” he said quietly, his newfound calm presence amid their storm. “This isn’t the place,”

Hesitating for a moment, Steve let go of John and turned to leave. A surge of anger suddenly took over his senses as he quickly turned back to John, landing a punch squarely on his jaw. John staggered back, stunned by the blow. As Steve turned and stormed out of the restaurant, Bucky placed his hand on the small of your back and guided you out, following Steve.

You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for John, glancing back at him you noted his expression full of shock and anger.

As you and Steve walked into your apartment, he began pacing back and forth. His fists still clenched and his chest heaving.

“What was that, Steve?” you asked, your voice trembling as tears welled up in your eyes. “How did you even know where I was?”

He stopped pacing and turned to face you, “Nat and Wanda mentioned you had a date,” he began, his voice starting to soften yet still holding a firm undertone. “Then Bucky mentioned that you had been seeing, him.”

The tears began to stream down your cheeks as Steve’s jaw tightened, he looked away. “I don’t trust the guy,” he admitted. “I couldn’t sit back and do nothing.”

“Do you not trust me to make my own decisions, anymore?” you asked, John previous words about how they treat you replayed in your mind.

Steve protected gently, “It’s not your decisions I don’t trust,” sighing, he finally sat down on your couch. “It’s his, I’m keeping you safe.”

For a moment, the only sound was the distant hum of traffic, he looked back at you. His eyes filled with regret and understanding.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, “I’ll always want to protect you, but,” he sighed again. “I shouldn’t have done that in front of you.”

Taking a deep breath, you tried to steady your emotions. Moving toward the couch, you sat next to him, resting your head on his shoulder. His head came down to rest on top of yours. “Thank you,” you mumbled, your voice barely a whisper.

You were grateful that your brother was there for you, yet, you couldn’t help but feel guilt over someone getting hurt because of you.

---

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#cry baby series #cry baby #bucky barnes x cry baby #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky fanfic #james bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky barnes x you #steve rogers x sister!reader #bucky barnes x rogers!reader #biker!bucky #biker au

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highvern · 1 year ago

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Teach Me III

gold star

Pairing: Lee Dokyeom (Seokmin) x fem!reader

Genre: smut, humor, college au, frat!svt

Warnings: cream pie, unprotected sex, cowgirl, squirting, inexperience!dk, experienced!reader, mentions of drug use (weed) and alcohol , oral (f. receiving), cum swallowing, spitting, fingering, making out, strength kink bc he's hot, minor overstim at the end but he's just enthusiastic, fwb, DK is a munch pt 2

Length: ~4.1k

Note: finally done! I’ve been working so much and this has been like the boogie man lmao part 4 is outlined so it'll probably be another week or two? lemme know what y'all think!!

read more here

[Thursday 10:26AM]

Lee Sock-mint: Did you get your exam back yet 👀👀👀

You: yep

You: you?

Lee Sock-mint: Yep

You: what’d you get

Lee Sock-mint: What’d YOU get

You: i asked first

Lee Sock-mint: Well I asked second

Lee Sock-mint: I got an A tho

You: HOLY SHIT

You: twinsies ♥️

Lee Sock-mint: HELL YEAHHHHHH 🔥🔥🔥🔥

That Night Approx. 8:27PM, Dokyeom’s bedroom

“Ohhh—-just like that!”

Obscene echoes of your sopping pussy fill the room as Dokyeom stuffs you with two long fingers, curling them upward searching for the spot he found a few days ago that had you crying. Bent between your spread legs, he’s praying at the altar of your body; tongue tracing along the inside of your thigh where it lays over his shoulder, biting a bruise into the delicate flesh. The hand not gloved in your cunt squeezes the plush flesh of your opposite leg, using the leverage to spread you out. A choked moan from your body bends your back as you attempt to suffocate him in your thighs.

In the few weeks you’ve been hooking up, Dokyeom has proven to be nothing less than a model student.

Even your first “tutoring session” had been incredibly fruitful. After you sucked out his soul through his dick, he spent an hour learning the ins and outs of your pussy.

The next few times Dokyeom begged you to show him exactly what you liked; quickly acclimating to him staring at your folds while you touched yourself, making yourself come before giving him time to mimic and perfect his technique. Once he gained enough confidence to start experimenting on his own, his progress soared beyond your expectations.

Despite earning the right to brag, he didn’t; still sheepish around the entire arrangement. But even with his shy demeanor, you knew he was incredibly happy with himself due to the one piece of evidence he allowed to exist. On his phone, hidden in a secret locked notes app, Dokyeom recorded his best times like a leader board.

From fingers: 10.33

From mouth: 7.57

From DK Jr. : 15.23 missionary, 11.57 doggy, 9.48 on top

The first time he showed you, you almost smothered him with his own pillow. The fact he was timing your hookups striking a cord in your gut that you couldn’t name; along with the knowledge that he refers to his dick as DK Jr.. But he managed to sooth your irritation with sheepish smiles and flattering praises.

Since then you’ve begun to find it endearing, especially when he shows you the other note that has all the things he wants to try with you. Positions, places, activities; tiny check markets dotting across the list they’re knocked out one by one. Your favorite so far was his desire to fuck you with other people nearby; fulfilled by Dokyeom pulling you into a cramped bathroom at another on one of his frat parties, flipping up your skirt and pushing aside your panties as he bent you over the sink to stretch you full of his cock. It was a testament of your will power to be quiet enough that no one from the party heard how good he gave it to you; aided by the same fingers currently in your cunt being shoved in your mouth to quiet your moans.

But tonight you’re pulling from your own perverted bucket list. As his reward for doing so well on the exam, you’re planning to let him fuck you raw; the vision of him spilling inside your cunt making you vibrate with excitement.

Nothing like a little positive reinforcement for the both of you.

“Taste so good,” he mumbles against your folds, entranced by how you squeeze around his fingers.

Dokyeom doesn’t know what you have planned yet, simply agreeing to your request for a post-study session hookup; but, imagining the look on his face after he finds out makes you gush against his tongue.

“Need more,” you whine, nails raking against his scalp as your hips roll against his mouth.

His fingers pick up their tempo as his mouth latches to your nub. Unlike the first time, he gently sucks it between his lips, focusing on allowing the tip of his tongue to coax against the bundle nerves.

“Don’t stop,” you sob, flailing on the mattress. “please! Gonna cum—“

Eyes crossing at the scorching slide of Dokyeom’s tongue against your clit, his hand pushes deeper before spreading his fingers apart. He finally catches the spongy patch of flash he’s been searching for, curling the tips of his middle finger against it rapidly.

“Fuck— I’m gonna, I–” you choke words catching in your throat as you snap.

Dokyeom doesn’t stop, doesn’t alter a thing except for opening his eyes to watch you come alive above him. His absolute favorite part of your frequent hookups is watching you; the way can’t hide how much you like this; how much you like him doing this.

Head dipped forward to your chest, eyes sealed shut, brow pinched tight, nose wrinkled, and jaw dropped in a long ‘O’ as you sing your pleasure. It’s permanently etched into the back of his eyelids since the first time he witnessed it but he never tires of watching it happen in real time. On the rare occasion he’s alone and you’re busy, it’s all he needs to think about to get himself off with record speed.

Dokyeom really really really loves making you come.

And after the semester you’ve had, he revels in the fact he can take your mind off everything; if only for a little while. You work harder than anyone he knows, balancing academics, extracurriculars, a social life, and a million other things. The admiration he feels deep in his chest, suspiciously close to his heart, drives him to pamper you.

And tonight, courtesy of your high marks, he plans to have you come till tears run down your face.

When your tremors subside, he licks a fat strip up your slit, tongue flat and firm before focusing on your clit once again as he sinks a third finger into your cunt.

“Minnie please!” you beg, the breathless crack of your voice an empty plea he can’t find himself caring about.

A swat against the meat of your thigh is his only warning for you to hold still, “You can take one more.”

“Too much.”

“Come on pretty girl, give me another. You deserve it.” Dokyeom replaces his mouth with his hand, fingers rubbing harshly at the raised nub as he pins you with a look. Your hips buck once again as he spits on his fingers curling into you, adding to the vulgar mess.

“I can’t!”

“Yes. You. Can.” each word punctuated with a drive of his fingers, coaxing more of your essence out of your leaking hole, coating his hand and dripping down his wrist to the sheets.

The gleam in Dokyeom’s eyes when he’s like this is unlike the usual persona he embodies. Demanding and expectant, because of course you’ll come for him again. Why wouldn’t you? He happily gives you exactly what you need to keep wallowing in mind numbing pleasure for as long as you like. Who are you to say no to such generosity?

“Oh fuck, fuck, I’m—”

Your hands nearly rip the bed spread underneath you, feet kicking out as your eyes squeeze tight against the fireworks erupting across the darkness. It's unlike any orgasm you’ve ever experienced. Stomach tightening, a thin sheen of sweat breaks along your exposed skin. Squeezing around the repeated press of his hand, a renewed gush of arousal coats his fingers. Everything is hotter. Wetter.

The spray of liquid against mouth shocks him for a moment, but as Dokyeom realizes what he’s done he turns feral.

“Holy shit.” he whines, lapping up everything you’re giving him, tongue wild and desperate. His own hips rock into the bed, curling his cock against the friction of his boxer in search of relief. You're both soaked, your essence and his spit dripping from his chin to his chest as he drools into the mess. Dokyeom planned to give you a breather after you came again but now nothing exists outside of your wrecked pussy and the smear of your arousal coating his face.

Nose scrunched against the over stimulation, tears sting your eyes. Sobbing for him to give you a moment, a second, to collect your thoughts. You're floating, barely tethered to the bed where his digits curl. But Dokyeom doesn’t listen. Tongue splitting your folds, tracing around his fingers still plunged inside your pussy.

Tangling your hands in his hair, you give a firm tug to disconnect him from your worn cunt. Despite the shortcircuiting pleasure still flooding your veins, the vision of your fuck buddy, pink tongue licking his lips, chin dripping and eyes hooded, awakes a hunger deep in your soul.

“My turn.” you growl.

Pulling him up your body, you waste no time connecting your lips. The heady taste of yourself infiltrates your mouth as you pant into his mouth, but you don’t mind as you continue to tease, the erotic slide of muscle against muscle consuming your focus.

Without disconnecting your lips, you push him until his back meets the sheets; pinning him in place once his boxers are gone, settling over his thighs. Urgently collaring his stiff length in your hand, the rigid velvet sits hot and heavy, head flushed and damp. You skim the tip through your folds, collecting the combination of juices, his own pre-cum adding to the mix before spreading it down his shaft. You gasp into Dokyeom’s mouth when the puffy head grazes your clit, giving a firm squeeze before letting go. Allowing it to slap against his belly before planting yourself on top, grinding against the underside of his cock; the red tip visible at the top of your folds, pearly beads of his cum dripping onto his abdomen with each desperate lerch.

“Oh fuck—” he whimpers.

Propped on his elbows, all Dokyeom can do is watch the hand you’d been using to play with him move to your mouth, sucking your dripping fingers into your mouth, moaning at the taste. He pulls you by the back of your neck to his mouth, echoing your whimper as he tastes the erotic mix himself. Your hips continue to grind against him, tilting yourself forward to force the tip of his cock to snare against the ring of muscle at your entrance. Barely an inch enters you before Dokyeom curls his hips away, smacked in the face by the realization of what you’re about to do.

He looks at you with furrowed eyebrows, mouth parted around stuttered breaths. An expectant look greets him, hunger flashing like lightning in your eyes. Dokyeom swallows thickly, mouthwatering at the very real chance of seeing your cunt coated in his seed. Filled to the brim, leaking down your thighs.

The fantasy is short lived as a rush of fear zips down his spine. He’s about to fuck you raw. In his favorite position. After you squirted on his face. If he can last more than a few strokes it’ll be a miracle.

Never able to hide his emotions, you catch the worry clouding his face, eclipsing the lust present seconds ago.

“You okay?” you breath, pausing to give him a reprieve.

“Great.”

“Minnie…”

“s fine.” He mumbles words under his breath.

You dodge his attempt at reconnecting your lips, refusing to let him distract you from whatever popped into his head. Shuffling back, you move further down his thighs and away from his crotch. You don’t understand the sudden shift in his demeanor but going any further seems like a mistake.

Dokyeom’s shoulders meet the bed as his elbows give out. Staring at the tiles of the ceiling, he tries to find the right words to tell you what he’s thinking. Shame thickens his throat like wet sand, preventing him from speaking but you just wait above him patiently. The comforting sensation of your fingers gently tracing the back of his hand gives him focus.

Closing his eyes, Dokyeom steels himself with a breath.

“Just need a second.” He whispers.

“Okay,” you whisper back.

Only the humming fan in the corner fills the silence between you. Dokyeom knows you’re watching him, cataloging every twitch of his lips and fully bellied breath. The skin of your thigh is soft under his palm, the warmth calming his nerves as he gently traces shapes into the dip above your knee with the pads of his fingers. The gentle press of your lips on his cheekbone startles him before your nose brushes against his own.

“What’s going on up there?” You gently ask, one of your fingers brushing his temple.

Eyes fluttering open, he’s met with the endless depths of your as you lean back a few inches to meet his gaze. The fondness softening your face reminds him that of all people, you’re the last that would laugh at him about this. You’ve literally seen him at his lowest, yet look what came out of that? If there’s one person he can be honest with, it's you.

“Might come.” Dokyeom sighs, looking at you with nervous eyes.

You’re dumbfounded. Utterly, and truly shocked. He just made you come twice, and he’s anxious that getting some satisfaction himself will somehow disappoint you. You want to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation but you know your first hookup is still a sore subject for him.

Ducking back down to leave a reassuring peck on his lips, you grin at him.

“That’s okay. Take all the time you need.” Leaning back up you see the embarrassment still clouding his features, racking your brain for a way to cut the tension. “I’ll just keep myself occupied.”

Dokyeom’s eyes flash at your words, curious at their meaning. Pushing up on your knees, one of your hands moves back to the apex of your thighs. You don’t grab for his cock still nudging you; instead, you collect the sticky mess smeared between your legs, middle finger dipping inside just a hair before coming back to your clit. Teasing gentle circles around it, your breath grows uneven, hips stuttering forward in search of more.

Shit.

Dokyeom is lost in a daze; licking his lips as you touch yourself, eyes glued to the digits swiping across your cunt. He’s still heavy and hard, the flared head of his cock glistening from its brief plunge in your depths. You can’t take your eyes off it, nearly drooling from desire to have him split you open.

“Fuck.” you whine, wishing the calloused pads of his fingers were working you instead. Ever since your little arrangement started, your fingers have become a distant second to his slender ones.

Your show isn’t helping stave the rising orgasm building in Dokyeom’s core. The exact opposite really, fanning the flame to a near inferno. The sight of you getting off, the sounds of your soaking cunt, the taste still on his tongue, the feel of you dripping on his muscular thighs. Even the smell of sex permeates through his tiny bedroom, clogging his nose like a musky perfume.

Fuck it. He thinks. If he blows his load before making you come again he’ll just have to make it up to you. How awful.

Dokyeom’s hand brushes yours away, thumbing your clit as two fingers stretch to prod your entrance again. If he can work you up enough before he’s inside you he’ll at least have a fighting chance.

“Wanna feel you inside me, Minnie.” You demand, using both hands to squeeze your breast. Dokyeom pants at the sight of your nipples peeking out between your fingers, bruised from his teeth.

Maybe you’re playing it up for his ego but you've truly never been so desperate. Greedy for pleasure even with the orgasms he’s already coaxed out of you, and on the horizon is the promise of a third. Being so close to getting railed the way you need but just out of reach is sending your mind into a tailspin. To make matters worse, Dokyeom seems just as eager to give it to you.

“Yeah? Want me to stuff you with my cum?”

“Yes! Need it.”

Shuffling back into Dokyeom’s lap, you sink down onto his cock in one motion, pushing the air from your lungs as he threatens to tear you in half. The burn from his girth races up your spine to add to the mind numbing sensations consuming you.

Tangling his arms behind you back, Dokyeom plants his feet on the bed to fuck up into you at a brutal pace. He’d never complain about fucking you with a condom but with out one? The silky stretch of your pussy, sweltering and soaked, is the closest to heaven Dokyeom’s ever been. Every squeeze around him pulls him in further, the head of his cock fitting snugly against your walls.

Your own hands find wobbly purchase beside his head, your chest aligns perfectly with his mouth to suck and lick against your breasts. Desperate pleas rushing to fill join the mess of noises rising from your bodies.

Your essence coats his cock, dripping down his balls as the clap of skin echoes in the room. Each thrust forces another whimper from your throat, the vulgar thought of your cunt dripping with evidence of him racing you to another orgasm.

“Gonna cum,” Dokyeom groans beneath you. The rasp of his voice sends your hips to meet him thrust for thrust.

“Please! Want it—” you bawl. “Want your cum.”

His head lulls back as you beg, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your sides to lock you in place. His thighs burn from exertion but he keeps going, the familiar twitch in his gut telling him to go deeper, harder. Something primal whispering in his brain to brand you with his seed, mark you as his. The way you clench around him adding to the call.

“Fuck, just like that.” You keen when he thumbs your worn clit. His other hand wraps in your hair, pulling to bare your neck for his mouth.

You feel the twitch of his cock deep inside you, and he gives you a few more thrusts before painting your insides. The sharp sting of teeth ripping the wind out of your lungs, pulling you down with him.

Using his chest for leverage, you lean back and ride him through it, reveling in satisfying fullness. Dokyeom’s eyes fall to your tits, pressed alluringly between your arms and swaying with each bounce on his sputtering length.

Gasping in each other's arms, Dokyeom keeps curling into you till he’s spent. Cracking open his eyes to take in the bliss painting your face before sneaking a peak to where you’re connected. A ring of white coats his length where he enters you, trickling down to the smattering of curly hair at his base. His cock gives a pathetic twitch of interest but that's all it manages with how hard he just came.

Collapsing onto his chest, you nuzzle against his neck. “That was…”

Great, wonderful, spectacular, best orgasm he’s ever had in his life. But no word seems to fit exactly how Dokyeom is feeling right now. When he finally can feel his body again, wraps his arms around you to keep you firmly planted against his chest, one hand moving to scratch your back soothingly. When you clench around him, Dokyeom realizes he’s still inside, softening length allowing a flood of cum to trickle out.

“Are you staying tonight?”

“Nah,” you roll off him to stretch, letting the satisfaction only a good fuck can bring settle in your muscles. “Gotta be up early.”

“I can walk you home.” He offers over his shoulder, shuffling to his closet to dress for the night.

“It’s only like nine, I’ll make it home just fine.”

“My mom would kill me if she found out I let you walk alone this late.”

Rolling to your stomach, you watch him pull on a hoodie. “Wow so it's not even you being considerate, just wanna hypothetically save your own skin.”

“I’d be worried too.”

“Fine, but at least put on some real pants.”

“What's wrong with my pants?”

The pointed look at the flannel Simpson pajama pants says it all.

“Fine.”

In true Seokmin fashion, the next five minutes are spent huffing and puffing as he digs for a suitable pair of sweatpants to wear for the short walk to your dorm. You receive several pointed looks and a final “hmph!” as he finds a pair he deems worthy. At least he makes good use of his theater classes.

“Alright, let's go!”

The walk to your dorm zigzags through the busiest parts of campus, and as such despite the late hour, you and Doekyeom run into friend after friend. Most are headed off campus to take part in thirsty Thursdays at the bars just blocks away. A few scampering home from the library, surrendering to the exhaustion that comes post-midterms.

Of course, Dokyeom’s roommate is in the mix.

“Hey! What are you guys doing out?” Soonyoung’s question is innocent but the way he yells it across the courtyard you're currently passing through snags the attention of a few other students.

“Just walking her home.”

“How sweet.” The older man coos. “By the way, what’d you get on the practical?”

“One hundred.”

“No shit!” Soonyoung high fives you. “So did Dokyeom. Wait…are you guys going to celebrate?”

The wiggle of Soonyoung’s eyebrows make him look like he’s having a stroke.

“We already did.” You smirk as Dokyeom gapes like a fish, red as a tomato.

All you can do is shrug. It's crazy the same man next to you was drilling your guts less than an hour ago, but the proof is still pooled in your panties.

“Anyway! What are you doing out?” Dokyeom asks, eager for a subject change.

“Didn’t do too hot but the TA said I can get half credit back if I do test corrections.”

“Ahh. So it doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that the girl you have a crush on has a shift in the tutoring labs on Thursdays?”

“You told her?” Soonyoung turns on Dokyeom, eyes wide.

“You told me, idiot.” You cut in.

“Oh! Well maybe that's part of the reason but Minhyuk said he’ll only give me till Monday morning so it's a happy coincidence.”

“Well good luck!” You call, taking a step in the direction of the dorms.

Soonyoung calls you back before your foot hits the sidewalk.

“Oh, by the way, are you coming to the cabin with us next week? We’re trying to figure out cars right now and need a headcount.”

“What cabin?”

“It's SBT’s mountain weekend!” He announces before turning to DK. “You didn’t tell her?”

“Ugh,” the still blushing man chokes.

“Well, this is awkward.” Soonyoung winces, slowly backing away. “I’ll see you guys later.”

Discomfort swirls around you and Dokyeom as you return to your original path. You’d spent enough time around frats to know they spent a weekend at some old cabin deep in the mountains each fall, drinking and smoking in excess. Traditionally, its invite only, a plus one for each fraternity brother. An upperclassman in MX, Jooheon, had brought you to his own your freshman year. The shiny allure of spending a weekend with a hot guy quickly dulled by the reality of fifty plus people cramming into a shoddy building to fuck and get drunk wasn’t as fun as it sounded on paper. To this day, you still can’t get the horrible wails of the girl Minhyuk had brought. It's why Soonyoung and DK attend the lecture he TA’d at a normal hour and you braved the horrors of an eight AM.

It shouldn’t matter that Dokyeom hadn’t asked you, or how he didn’t even bother to mention it in passing. The relationship between you is nothing more than two acquaintances who hook up. Frequently. At its core, you’re his friend who occasionally tutors him in anatomy. Why would he ask you to stay with him for a weekend? Why would you be upset if he didn’t?

And yet…

“I completely forgot it was even happening.” Dokyeom shares quietly.

“It’s really fine!”

“I mean if you wanted, you could come with?”

“Already have plans. Sorry.”

“Oh, that’s cool.”

Fortunately the awkward conversation is cut short as you approach the lobby of your dorm. You’ve never been happier to see the tacky green walls beyond the glass door lined with old campus flyers.

“Thanks for walking with me.”

Dokyeom looks like he wants to say more but before he can speak you’re turning around and marching inside. You don’t catch the way he stares at your retreating figure, only leaving the way he came once you're firmly out of sight.

#svthub #lee seokmin #lee seokmin x reader #svt x reader #seventeen fanfic #svt #dokyeom #seokmin x reader #seokmin smut #dokyeom x reader #dokyeom smut #🫡 highvern

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heich0e · 6 months ago

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keishin lives in a little one room apartment attached to the back of sakanoshita market.

calling it an apartment is a bit of a stretch—it's more a converted storage room than anything. there's a door to a cramped bathroom on one wall, a makeshift kitchen comprised of a hotplate and a mini fridge along the other. the room is scarcely large enough to fit the lumpy sofa his grandfather was getting rid of years ago and an old chabudai that's missing a leg so it's propped up on side by an old milk crate, and that leaves just enough floor space to lay out a futon at the end of the day (though he often just falls asleep on the sofa, and wakes up in the morning with terrible back pain.) it's a humble space, to say the very least, but it's his—and it affords him a bit more freedom than living in the family house.

you live in an apartment just down the road.

the first time ukai visits your place, the very first thing he notices how much it smells like you—clean and sweet and dizzying. the apartment feels warm and soft like you too. it's tidy but lived in, with traces of you filled in to every corner—the photos on the wall, the colourful mug on the dish rack by the kitchen sink, the houseplants flourishing near the window with their lush bright green leaves. your apartment is so different to his. you're so different to him.

but there's just something about it that immediately feels like home.

#i typed this up last night and never hit post apparently! not sure where i was going with it but he's baby #ukai x reader #ukai keishin x reader #hq drabble #hq writing #writing

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pedrospatch · 2 years ago

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stay

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Reader

summary: You’re in Jackson with Joel and Ellie after Salt Lake City and the loss of somebody you failed to protect haunts you and leaves you wondering if the wound will ever heal—and how you’ll ever go on if it never does.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. child death, reader takes the life of a child. (TW) implied panic attack, implied SI, reader has a moment where she contemplates taking her own life, NO ACTUAL ATTEMPT. angst, soft, caring Joel. no age specified for reader, no physical descriptions of reader.

word count: 3.7k

2024

Late Spring

Jackson, Wyoming

You’d woken up early that morning, right before sunrise.

Eyes fluttering open, you blinked furiously into the darkness of the bedroom. Your bedroom.

Your bedroom in an actual house. One that didn’t have crumbling, dusty walls.

One that was an actual, real place to call home.

As you tried to move, the strong arm around your waist tightened and held you firmly in place.

Turning your head, you saw Joel’s face just inches away from yours. He was still fast asleep, his bare chest slowly rising and falling with each and every peaceful, tranquil breath he inhaled and exhaled through slightly parted lips. He’d finally stopped mumbling in his sleep.

You’d been in Jackson with him and Ellie for just about a week or so now, and you still hadn’t quite gotten used to it—waking up in a soft, warm bed with his arms around you.

Maybe you would never get used to it.

Being careful not to wake Joel, you slipped out of his grasp and sat up. Swinging your legs over the side of your shared bed, you planted your two feet on the cold, hardwood floors and stood up, doing your best to move around without having to turn the lights on so as not to disturb his slumber. You quickly but quietly searched around, using both of your hands to feel for the thin, cotton white tank top and dark gray pajama bottoms that had been discarded, strewn somewhere across the master bedroom the previous night by none other than Joel Miller himself. He had gotten rid of them as he’d hovered over you, tossing them carelessly over his shoulder so that he could spend the next several hours learning every single part of your body, almost as if he’d been getting to know it for the very first time.

It took you a minute, but you’d finally found your clothes, tugging them on before padding your way into the bathroom where you flipped on the lights and began running the water in the sink to brush your teeth—hell, even having a clean toothbrush and real toothpaste were sweet little luxuries that were also taking some getting used to.

You finished washing your mouth and splashed a bit of cool water onto your face, drying it off with a hand towel before turning off the sink as well as the lights. Leaving yours and Joel’s bedroom, you made your way downstairs into the kitchen. Joel and Ellie were also early risers, and they would be up within the hour. Since you were up, you figured it would be nice to have a hot breakfast ready and waiting for them.

First thing was first, you started an instant pot of coffee for yourself and for Joel, although truth be told it was mostly for Joel, as the man refused to drink anything else in the mornings. As it brewed and the dark brown liquid dripped slowly into the glass pot, you moved over to the refrigerator and pulled open the door. The sight of a fridge stocked with real, proper food was almost like a fucking dream. You reached for the small basket of farm fresh chicken eggs that you’d picked up from the community’s market earlier that week when you and Ellie had gone food shopping. You set it down on the counter and looked through the wooden cabinets, grabbing a large, white porcelain bowl to scramble up the eggs in. You held it in your hands, an odd feeling washing over you.

Oh yes, this would all certainly taking some getting used to, all of it of it would take some getting used to—having shelter, running water, food and clean clothes. Not spending every goddamn fucking day fighting just to survive.

You glanced down at the bowl you gripped in your two hands, and felt your heart squeeze painfully inside of your chest.

Any normal person would have been relieved to be in this safe haven. Happy, even.

But not you, because all that you could think about was Lily, and how she wasn’t here.

2023

Early Fall

Midwest United States

The bite mark was on her shoulder.

It was still fresh, but the clock was already ticking like a time bomb.

You knew that. She knew that.

Everyone in that fucking basement knew that.

“Please,” Lily begged you, clutching fistfuls of your jacket. “Please.”

“No,” You choked out, feeling like someone had just punched you in the gut, knocking all the wind out out of your lungs. You turned back and looked over your shoulder at Joel, who stood there with his jaw clenched tightly, his dark brown eyes fixed on the dirty floor. Beside him, Ellie was wringing her hands together, fighting back her tears. You turned back to Lily, somehow finding your voice again. “No. I can’t do it. I won’t fucking do it.”

You blamed yourself for this.

The house the four of you had chosen to occupy for the night hadn’t been completely cleared out. You should have known better than to even think about cutting corners, you should have checked every goddamn room from the ground up, twice. If you had been more thorough, you would have realized that there had been a clicker down in the basement, silent and still, that is until Ellie and Lily had gone off exploring the entire house in such of possible supplies and garnered its attention, riling it up. It had gone after the girls while you and Joel were upstairs, and although Ellie had managed to shoot it dead in seconds, the damage had been done—the clicker managed to sink its teeth into your twelve year old sister, infecting her.

“Please, please don’t let me turn into one of those things,” Lily sank down, falling onto her knees in front of you. Letting go of your jacket, she clasped her hands together in a pleading motion. “Please! I don’t want to turn, not like mom and dad did. Not like Sam did. I need you to end it here, right now before it’s too late.”

“No!” You bit out the word once again through gritted teeth, white hot tears burning your eyes. “I won’t do that.”

Joel stood there, not knowing what to say or what to do.

Hell, there was really nothing he could say or do, was there?

Lily was infected—it was already a fucking death sentence.

And while he understood that she wanted to go out her way, he also understood that you couldn’t even fathom having to do the unthinkable. That you couldn’t even think about putting a bullet in your kid sister.

“I don’t have the guts to do it myself,” Lily said, her voice trembling. “I barely know how to use a gun. Please, you have to do it for me.”

You stared at her desperate face, the first of every single fucking tear that you would ever cry for the rest of your life finally slipping out of the corner of your eye and trickling its way down your cheek.

It was what Lily truly wanted, but how could you take her life?

The child that you’d raised yourself for the last ten years. Life could be so fucking cruel in a world like this one, but this, this was something else.

Still, what other choice was there?

It was either end it now, or abandon her in this old, crumbling house, leaving her all by herself to lose her mind.

Lily didn’t want that, and if her one final wish was to die on her terms, then you had no other choice but to fucking grant it for her. It didn’t matter how hard it was going to break you.

She didn’t have another option, and neither did you.

“Okay.” The agreement finally left your lips shakily. Your heart slammed hard against your chest wall, and your entire body had gone ice cold. “Okay.”

“No!” Ellie screamed, shoving you out of the way so roughly that she almost knocked you over. She grabbed Lily and hoisted her to her feet, wrapping her arms around her. Ellie held Lily protectively against her side, eyeing the spot where she knew you kept your gun tucked in the waistband of your jeans. “No, please, there has to be something we can fucking do!” She thought back to Sam and how what she’d done with her blood and his bite wound hadn’t worked to save his life. She held Lily tighter, knowing nothing else could be done and that her name would only be added to the growing list of people that she’d lost.

“Ellie,” Joel said her name softly, the softest that anyone had heard him say it since she’d come into your lives.

Her brown eyes met his and a tear escaped her.

“Fuck,” she whispered, devastated.

“It’s okay, Ellie. It’ll be okay.” Lily placed a hand on her arm. As she did so, everyone caught a glimpse of the way it’d twitched. “I don’t have much time left,” she said, nudging Ellie. She turned to face her, and offered her an encouraging smile. “Keep on going, okay? Do it for Tess. Do it for Sam. Do it for me. Do it for the whole world. Promise me that you’re gonna make it to the Fireflies. Promise me that you’re gonna make it to the very end. Please.”

“I promise I’ll make it to the end,” Ellie whispered, pulling her into her arms one last time.

Joel looked at you as you took out your pistol with a trembling hand.

“M’so sorry,” he whispered, gently touching your shoulder. He then turned to Ellie and beckoned for her with his hand. As much as Joel didn’t want to leave you to do this alone, he knew he had to get Ellie out of there and out of the house. “C’mon.”

Helpless, Ellie meekly nodded her head without protest.

“Joel, be sure to cover her ears,” You instructed him quietly. “Even outside she might still be able to hear it.”

Joel gave a small, tight nod of his head. He walked over and gingerly touched Lily’s cheek in his silent goodbye to her before taking Ellie’s arm. “Let’s go,” he murmured, pulling her over towards the stairs. A few seconds later, the two of them were gone and the door of the basement shut closed with a loud, aggressive slam that you knew had to have come from Ellie.

Swallowing harshly, you went up to Lily. Taking her into your arms, you pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. It felt abnormally warm, a sure fire sign that the infection was running rampant inside of her—that she was running out of time.

“I’m sorry ,” Your voice broke in the middle of your apology. You held her close, your hand cradling the back of her head as she nuzzled her face into your neck, inhaling your scent deeply for the very last time. “I’m so sorry that I couldn’t keep you safe and sound like I promised I would.”

“Look at it this way.” Lily’s arms tightened around your waist. “Nothing or no one will ever be able to hurt me ever again. I’m gonna be safe up there in heaven with mom and dad and the three of us are gonna be watching over you. And Ellie and Joel, too.”

It was unbelievable. Here she was, fucking twelve years old and about to die, and she was trying to comfort you.

You held her even closer, nearly smothering her as the two of you began to cry in each other’s arms.

After a few minutes, Lily pulled away from you.

Her twitches were becoming more frequent with each second that ticked by.

“Please, let’s just do this before it’s too late,” she said, dabbing at her eyes with the back of her jerking hand.

You rigidly nodded your head, your legs feeling like jello as you took several steps backwards, leaving about six feet of distance between the both of you.

You lifted your arm, aiming the barrel of the gun at your little sister.

“I love you,” Lily offered you a feeble, watery smile.

“I love you too,” You whispered back to her before your finger finally pulled the trigger.

You closed your eyes, your heart sinking deeply as you tried to forget the way that she’d been gone before her body had even hit the cold, hard ground of that basement.

Instead, you tried to think of something else. But you just couldn’t.

Lily should have been here with you. With Joel, with Ellie. Her family.

Not dead, buried in a shallow grave somewhere in the middle of fucking nowhere.

She would have been so happy here in Jackson.

Safe.

She would have been safe.

“She’s gone,” You told yourself, willing the fact to get through your thick skull once and for all.

As the image of your sister’s sweet smile came into your mind again, something in you finally snapped, like a rubber band that had been pulled too tight for far too long.

“She’s gone!” Your scream tore itself from the back of your throat. “She’s gone! She’s fucking gone and she’s not coming back!”

Taking the bowl in your hands, you flung it across the kitchen with all your might, watching it as it hit the wall and shattered into pieces. You turned back towards the cabinet, both hands reaching for anything and everything you could get your hands on—plates, bowls, glasses. Once the cabinet had been emptied out, you went for all of the dishes and appliances on the counter, throwing and breaking everything in sight. When you’d finally run out of items to destroy, you sank down to your knees right onto a pile of broken glass. As you did so, you noticed one particularly large shard of glass with a pointed, jagged edge.

Picking it up, you grasped it so tightly in your trembling hand that you began to bleed as it sliced into your palm.

Was it even fucking worth it?

Being alive without her?

What was the fucking point?

The guilt of what happened to Lily would eat you alive for the rest of your life, especially here in Jackson, where you were living the very same life that you had wanted to provide for your sister for so many fucking years but never could.

Your eyes glazed over the sharp point of the glass, and then flickered to the thin, delicate flesh of the lower portion of your forearm—a gun would be so much quicker, less messy. It would be painless, and a hell of a lot better than nicking a vein and letting yourself bleed out on the kitchen floor.

But if the opportunity presented itself, why not take it regardless of the method?

Still clutching the glass, images of Joel and Ellie suddenly flashed in your mind.

They were family.

Your family.

As much as you wanted to put an end to the pain, you knew with every fiber of your being that Lily would want you to stay. If not for yourself, then for them. Because that was the kind of girl she was.

So good, so sweet. Full of hope.

Everything had blurred and your mind was lost in such a thick haze that it took you a minute to realize that Joel was shouting your name—the sounds of your screaming, of glass and porcelain breaking, it had woken both him and Ellie and they had ran down the stairs in a panic.

Ellie gasped your name and started towards you, but Joel grabbed her and held her back when he realized she was barefoot. “Careful, the glass!”

“Joel, fucking do something!” Ellie demanded, her eyes widening in horror when she saw the glass in your hand and the way that you’d been looking at your wrist in something of a trance.

Joel hadn’t been wearing any shoes either, hell, he’d barely managed to tug a shirt on over his head and it was inside out, but he quickly and carefully made is his way over to you. He crouched down beside you and immediately took your arm, giving it a shake so you would drop the shard of glass.

His warm touch brought you back to earth.

“Joel?” You squeaked out his name, your heart pounding.

You felt tears prickling at your eyes, and you opened your mouth to let out a sob, but nothing came out. Your cries were lodged in the back of your throat and you felt stuck in your lungs. You suddenly felt like you couldn’t take a breath and started to hyperventilate.

“Hey, hey, hey. Breathe. Look at me,” he said. He palmed the side of your face and gently, but firmly forced you to meet his gaze. Your eyes were wide, pupils dilated. “Look at me, I’m here. We’re both here, me and Ellie. We’re right here. Breathe for me darlin,’ just breathe.”

You frantically nodded, as if to tell him, I’m trying.

It took a minute or two until finally, your gasps for air slowed down.

When they finally did, you began sobbing uncontrollably.

“Oh baby. C’mere,” Joel murmured. He pulled you up to your feet and moved you to a spot that wasn’t covered in broken dishware. He held you against his chest, stroking your hair.

Ellie joined in, and they both just held you in silence until your wails of agony subsided several minutes later.

“I’m sorry,” You apologized through little hiccups. “I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t fucking be sorry,” Ellie immediately stopped you, her hand rubbing at your back. She pulled back and looked at the blood stain on Joel’s light gray t-shirt. “Oh shit, Joel. Her hand, look at her hand.”

Joel looked down, alarmed, but he remained calm. “Ellie, go upstairs into our bathroom. There’s a first aid kid under the sink.”

She nodded and whirled around, bolting out of the kitchen.

In the blink of an eye, she’d returned with a small white tin box with a red cross etched onto the lid. She handed it to him. “Here.”

Taking it in one hand, Joel used his other hand to guide you over to the kitchen table. He sat you down and then pulled a chair out for himself, taking a seat across from you.

“She going to be okay?” Ellie asked, worriedly.

“Doesn’t look too deep, at least not deep enough to need stitches. It should be okay,” Joel stated as he opened up the first aid kit. “Ellie, mind if I have a minute alone with her?” He saw her open her mouth to protest and gave her a look. “Please.”

She huffed, but nodded. She touched your shoulder lightly and left the room, though both you and Joel were positive she’d stick around out in the hallway to eavesdrop.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered hoarsely, breaking a silence that had fallen over the two of you. “I’ll clean this mess up—”

“You think that’s what I’m worried about?” Joel asked, placing your hand in his lap as he poured hydrogen peroxide onto a wad of cotton. He picked it up and gingerly started cleaning your wound. He sighed, shaking his head. “Funny thing is, I knew you’d snap sooner or later. But truth be told, darlin’ I didn’t think this would be the way you’d let it all out.”

You stared at him. “What do you mean you knew I’d snap?”

Joel looked up from your cut, his gaze meeting yours. “I know you like I know the back of my own fuckin’ hand,” he reminded you. “And I know what you’ve been carryin’ around after what happened with Lily. That feelin’ you’ve been bottlin’ up for months now. I know what it’s like to carry that kinda burden on your shoulders. It’s heavy, and at some point, you ain’t got no choice but to put it down.” He paused. “Only, I was hopin’ you would do so by talkin’ to me, not destroyin’ the kitchen of this house.”

“I don’t know what happened,” You admitted, softly. “One minute I was down here getting ready to make us all breakfast, and the next, I just fucking lost it.” You chewed anxiously on your bottom lip. “I just kept thinking about how Lily should be here with us. And how she would be, if I hadn’t failed her.”

Joel frowned. “You didn’t—”

“I fucking did, Joel. I failed at protecting my sister. I failed at keeping her safe, alive.”

Letting out another sigh, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against your forehead. He spoke, his lips ghosting over your skin. “Baby, you can’t keep blamin’ yourself for somethin’ that was out of your control.”

“But it was in my control, Joel. I should have checked every goddamn crevice of that fucking house, because if I had, Lily would still be alive. She would be here in Jackson with us, living the life that she always deserved to live.”

Joel leaned his forehead against yours. “Look, I know that nothin’ I say is goin’ to make it better. Nothin’ I say is goin’ to bring her back and m’sorry,” he said. “But you need to know that it wasn’t your fault. You did the best you could. I know that her bein’ gone hurts. Trust me I know that feelin’ all too well.”

Another tear slipped down the side of your face and he reached up, lightly brushing it away with his thumb.

Of course he knew the feeling.

The scar on his temple was a testament of how well he knew that feeling, of how he knew exactly what it felt like to want to end it all after losing someone so precious.

Only, he had actually tried to end it all.

Joel’s voice broke into your thoughts. “I need you to know that you’re not alone, baby. You ain’t gotta carry your grief alone. You’ve got Ellie, and you sure as hell got me. We’re both here to help you through anythin’ that you need, alright? We’ve got you—I’ve got you.”

“I know you do.” Your voice broke once more and you swallowed back another sob.

Joel brushed his lips against yours. Sitting back into his chair he lifted your hand and inspected it thoroughly. “Don’t think there’s any glass in it,” he observed. He started bandaging your hand with a roll of gauze from the first aid kit.

“Thank you, Joel,” You murmured as soon as he had finished patching you up. “And I’m sorry. Not about the mess, but about what I thought about doing.”

Joel reached out, cradling the side of your face. His thumb grazed the soft skin of your cheek. “I need you to stay, baby,” he whispered, his own voice thickening with emotion. “Me and Ellie, we both need you to stay. You understand me?”

You placed your hand on top of his, nodding as your eyes met his once more.

“I’ll stay,” You promised him.

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