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mandalhoerian · 1 month ago

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(2) 🦭 signed, sealed, delivery pending...

Eight years ago, during the worst summer festival of your life, you cross paths with a certain seal for the first time.

genre: fluff, comedy | wc: 4K | read on ao3

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note: YES, THIS IS A SERIES! I hope you'll bear with me as I'm not actively editing/proofreading my writing and am going with the flow for the most part. Rafayel will also stay as a seal in the next chapter which centers around how he came to be smitten with the reader, so PLEASE PLEASE HANG TIGHT WE'RE GETTING THERE. I hope you enjoy!!!!

Ah, sweet summer festival. You're fifteen.

The entire archipelago is in motion tonight — a grand spectacle brought to life in the unofficial capital Salverna, which is also where you were born and raised, by throngs of locals with visitors pouring in from the mainland for an evening of festivities. Decorated boats crawl like jeweled beetles across the bay beneath a moonbeam sky, torches flickering like amber blossoms amidst colorful lanterns suspended overhead, painting faces in warm splashes of light. Instruments are tuned to perfect pitch, ready to launch into jigs and reels once revelers spill into dancing rings. Children sprint around bonfires with cheeks flushed by sugar, laughter ringing like silver bells in the breeze. Farther along, games fill the streets — prizes stuffed inside balloons perched precariously atop slender sticks, targets waiting to be pierced by dart tips, bobbing heads eager for coins — competing for attention with the delectable aroma of spiced sausage, roasted meat, skewers, sticky cinnamon treats, and fresh fruit piled high for sampling. Even the night's salty breath tastes like sunshine, and despite everything feeling faintly familiar, somehow still manages to seem entirely fresh.

If only you'd been there from the beginning.

No, you were here. The whole day.

At the docks, which is the farthest away from the main event.

Hauling seafood and chasing down lost tourists like some unpaid festival guide.

The family ferry business consisting of multiple vessels is the only one making direct trips between the mainland and the archipelago. Usually, things run smoothly — your parents know this route like the back of their hands, and during normal weeks, the boats run on a fairly consistent schedule with only the occasional minor detour to accommodate delayed travelers. Renting smaller boats out to tourists helps maintain some steady income for maintenance expenses during quieter months, although the real money comes from transporting passengers year-round.

But big events like this summer festival change everything. The mainland port is overflowing with people packed like sardines in a tin, and everyone scrambles for transport space like sharks smelling blood. It's impossible to accommodate every arrival simultaneously, even though Dad doubled the ferry service to operate nearly nonstop — one boat shuttling incoming guests while its twin carries locals back and forth between islands, and even then it isn't enough. People are forced to wait hours for passage, which inevitably leads to chaos erupting.

And the locals ferry doesn't just transport passengers. It hauls festival supplies — crates of seasonal produce shipped to the islands via mainland distributors, stacks upon stacks of boxes labeled FRAGILE in thick black marker, paper fans for the parade, props for the pageant, a seemingly endless list of necessary items for the vendors, bands, food stands, street performers, the barrels of festival cider rolling onto the deck, stacks of pastries needing careful hands to avoid toppling, baskets of flowers meant for decorating stalls that nearly got crushed in the shuffle — you name it — the list of deliveries keeps growing by the hour. And no one has extra hands to spare to deliver all this cargo to its final destinations.

Well, actually, one person does. Namely, you.

It started small. Mom catching you right as you tried to slip away this morning, asking to help with boarding real quick, and if you could take some packages along the way... It was easy to agree, at first — help a few elderly tourists steady themselves as they stepped from the ferry, answer questions from confused festival-goers trying to navigate between islands, toss a sack or two over your shoulder for the vendor working nearby. But an hour later, you were hauling half a crate uphill when one of the wheels broke loose, scattering fireworks across cobblestones in glittering disarray, leaving you running through town chasing them all down under curious gazes of the locals who saw the explosion...

And the moment the ferry docked, suddenly it was all hands on deck. One trip in, another out. Then, next thing you knew, you were the one handling tickets and guiding stragglers toward their destination, organizing groups, shouting helpful tips about what to avoid and what not to eat so you are not about to have people get sick on board and clean off their vomit, answering questions about local attractions and restaurant specialties, calling out to Dad who drove the ferry like it was child's play, warning the older folks and kids not to fall off because the last thing your family really needs is to be sued by someone stupid falling overboard...

And the entire time, you were in the dress you'd picked out specifically for the occasion. Thinking one more trip, and you could finally join your friends in the festivities...

A whole shift later, there are no celebrations awaiting you. No bonfire parties with the music so loud and joyous you could feel it thrumming through the ground, no crowded bars filled to bursting with cheerful singing and dancing, no raffle stalls offering chances to win souvenirs and free meals for years, no fireworks bursting across the night sky so brilliant they chased away the darkness.

Just you with your dress ruined and ripped because someone couldn't watch where they were going while drunk and collided straight into you and left you soaked in cheap beer, and the hem of it torn apart from you desperately trying to fix your mistake after misplacing the boxes of merch you were supposed to haul, again. Your friends probably already enjoying every aspect of the event, laughing their asses off in pure delight without caring for what you missed or had endured all day, knowing you were supposed to arrive with them to witness the greatest part of the summer celebration together.

With angry tears gathering at the inner corners of your eyes, you let the bags drop onto the dock with a harsh thump, “I can’t do this anymore.”

Maybe you're expecting an argument. Maybe you want to pick a fight because the frustration had been stewing ever since you woke up today and demanded release. Or maybe you hope your father would give you permission to go enjoy your own life, rather than force you to suffer his. But none of those comes to pass. Instead, he merely glances up with a tired look, holding your resentful stare before sighing heavily and scrubbing his face wearily with calloused, wrinkled hands.

“You said it would be quick,” you snap, voice shaking. “You said I could go like hours ago. The day is over!"

You choke back the wobble in your tone, biting harshly into your lower lip, hoping it'll prevent tears from leaking out even though it hardly hurts enough to distract you.

"Look, we're in the middle of peak season..."

"Which means peak profit for our business! Couldn't you have just hired someone extra to fill in?! Why did it have to be me?!"

"No other staff is available on such a short notice, especially during a big event." Dad shrugs weakly in apology, the gesture lacking any defensiveness or remorse. He looks drained, exhausted. And still, his priorities remain firmly fixed elsewhere. "Sorry, honey. Next week I'm hiring additional staff permanently, but for now — just one more hour, okay? You know we don't extend our services after the night falls and that's why—"

“No!” The frustration spills over before you can swallow it down. “It’s never ‘just a little longer.’ It’s always one more trip, one more errand, one more thing! I’m always the one stuck here!”

Dad frowns and straightens his spine slowly like a looming anime villain, wiping sweat from his brow. "Don't raise your tone on me like that, I'm not one of your little friends. This is nothing. When you become captain, you'll have to endure far more work."

"I did everything you ask and suddenly my tone is the issue?!" You gesture wildly at your ruined dress, at the damp stains and torn fabric clinging to your skin. “Look at me! I was supposed to be there with everyone else, and now I can’t even show up like this—”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” Dad's voice turns sharp, exasperated. “It’s just a dress.”

"And now everyone probably hates me because I've skipped yet another celebration and ghosted them!" you huff and puff like an enraged bull despite his interruption.

"What's going on?" Mom hurries over from the harbor shop, stepping between you and your father before tempers flare even further. She takes in the scene at a glance and sighs deeply — though whether out of disappointment or irritation, you can't tell — carefully setting aside several stacks of receipts. "Are you two seriously bickering about nonsense when you should both be working?"

“I’m not being dramatic! I’m sick of this!” You throw your hands into the cold, humid sea breeze as though casting your complaints upon the tides, unable to keep the tremble from your fingers or the tears from streaking down your face. Hot drops patter against the faded wood planks beneath your feet. "“I work just as hard as you do, I never say no, but the second I want something for myself—"

Mom immediately gets what's going on, and alerts you to lower your voice by pointedly widening her eyes and thinning her lips. The entire dock is witnessing the argument and turning their heads to listen in at this point, but you don't care. Everybody should hear about this injustice.

"Yes, honey, I know," Mom hisses, "And we appreciate how hard you're trying, believe me. But — just one more trip, alright? Your friends will wait a bit longer for you, won’t they? Don't forget this isn't just about you. The archipelago depends on us running our business steadily and reliably."

And there it is. That unspoken expectation, that quiet assumption that you’ll always choose responsibility over what you want. That you’ll always understand.

Your throat tightens, choking back the bitterness burning in the pit of your stomach, and for a long moment, neither you nor your mom break the silence, and her stare remains fixed somewhere above your shoulder. Only Dad says anything, grunting a vague affirmative that tells you nothing more than your mother did; work must come first, whatever personal sacrifice must be made for that to happen.

You step back. “Forget it.”

“Honey—”

“I said forget it!”

You're running hot and cold, the rush of blood in your ears don't let your parents' protests in as you rush into the only place where you can be alone right now, the ticket counter cabin with the "CLOSED" sign on it, slamming the door shut behind you loudly and letting the cool glass barrier isolate you from the rest of reality. It's just you inside. There's a desk, empty paperwork piled neatly at the corner, a cash register. An old computer screen covered by dust. Shelves crammed with stacked-up folders and manuals. A window overlooking the harbor. This is also the place to leave your belongings at before clocking into work, just beside the locker of where the attendant usually leaves theirs.

On a whim, you snatch up your jacket and backpack before fleeing out into the crowd again. It's so easy to lose your parents along the wharf because of the teeming masses.

Your phone is buzzing rapidly in your bag with Dad and Mom both probably threatening to drag you back by your ear, so you take it out and switch to airplane mode before tossing it back in with a grimace. You're not allowed to be out this late without supervision (much less sneaking away from work), but right now, there's not an adult in existence that could compel you to walk willingly back into this mess. Screw it. Being grounded for life isn't any worse than being imprisoned on this stupid island forever anyway, you think, huffing quietly in protest as you stomp down the street. Besides, if worst comes to worst, you can spend some time with Aunt Leen. At least she wouldn't judge.

The festival feels a million miles away. You can’t go there, not in this state, stains everywhere, smelling like fish and sweat and regret, dress ripped apart. So, instead, you end up wandering along the rocky beach near the outer edge of town, in parallel to the protected seal rookery islet offshore and well beyond the boundaries of the town proper. The bright, swirling glow of the firework display across the water glints in the dark, mingling with distant stars and overshadowing the full moon, reflecting off rippling waters like flickering embers dancing across a glossy obsidian surface. The waves roll gently across sand and stone in soothing rhythmic whispers whooshes that pull you onward through the night like invisible ribbons drawing you back into the present.

This was always your favorite place as a child — wild and beautiful. An unclaimed stretch of wilderness stretching beyond the public access point, filled with coves and tide pools that felt like hidden kingdoms tucked away from the rest of the world. Here, among the jagged rocks, washed smooth by centuries of ebbing currents, you sit on one flat boulder, bare feet lapped at by the high tide and shoes by your side, frustrated tears dropping into the sea, staring absently off towards the seal islet floating peacefully in the distance.

You remember trying to swim out there years ago, despite having been strictly forbidden from venturing close to not disturb them. What would it be like, to be out in the open sea instead of tied to this isolated little community? To see something other than the same faces, places, and names repeated ad nauseam for all eternity, as though nothing changed no matter how many seasons passed? What would it take to break free?

"Ugh!" The sound bursts free before you can clamp your jaw shut, a ragged groan against clenched teeth as your palms scrub fiercely across your damp, salty cheeks.

Before you can start ranting into the night like a madman, your turmoil is shattered by a sudden, piercing cry like metal scraping stone ripping through your tangled thoughts. Your head jerks upward, pulse quickening into a painful drum-beat. Something is terribly off. Someone's hurt, panicking—or worse—maybe drowning?

But where?

You blink frantically, scanning the surrounding coastline, but the thick curtain of night refuses to offer clues. So you rely on your ears and follow the keening through the beach, stumbling hastily across damp sand, uneven rocks and slippery seaweed patches alike, nearly slipping on slimy barnacles embedded in the crevices between each massive stone and fighting hard to balance every step, all the while ignoring the scrapes accumulating on your soles from sharp pebbles digging into tender flesh and flaring in protest at every bit of impact.

Then, unmistakably—

A high-pitched, squealing shriek erupts out of the ocean — like the frantic deflating of a balloon twisting violently apart in midair.

Your stomach drops. The sound is frantic, terrified. Unmistakably animal.

And it's coming directly from the water.

At last, you spot the source of the commotion — about fifty feet offshore, just beyond a tangle of blackened driftwood clogging the shallows: Moonlight catches on slick, gray fur, the seal’s body bobbing helplessly, its hysteric movements hampered by the thick snare of a fishing net and heavy with debris, the tangled mess constricts tight, dragging it downward each time it fights to resurface.

Seals can drown. You know that much. You’ve heard Elias muttering to Dad, thick with disgust, after cutting loose yet another pup ensnared by abandoned traps — relics of poachers who refuse to acknowledge sealing was banned around here nearly thirty years ago.

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

Your mind stutters, paralyzed for a breathless instant. What do I do? What do I do?

There’s no time to think.

You’re moving before reason catches up, scrambling over slick, uneven rocks as brine stings the scrapes blooming across your bare feet. Your pulse slams against your ribs. In one frantic motion, you strip off your windbreaker, fling your bag aside, and plunge into the waves without hesitation. Salt explodes in a cool rush over your skin as you kick off from the seafloor, paddling hard, muscles burning with every stroke.

Next thing you know, your arms are locked tight around the drowning seal, grappling to haul it toward shore as it thrashes wildly, overwrought beyond reason and twisting all it can to land a blow with brutal strength you wouldn't expect from a round and inflexible body like that. Flippers beat against your chest, claws scrape at your arms, and its ragged cries tear through the night like something feral and furious. It doesn’t understand you’re trying to help — it only knows fear.

Somehow, impossibly, you make it.

Every muscle in your body screams in protest as you drag the tangled pup onto the shore, collapsing beside it in a gasping sprawl, limbs weak and trembling. Your lungs gulp down air that tastes like victory, the sweetest breath you've ever taken.

And then—

The seal’s shrieks reach a fevered pitch. It flails vigorously, flinging itself against the unyielding net, snapping, fighting, tearing at the fibers with blind desperation.

That’s when you see it.

The moon-desaturated dark liquid pooling beneath its body, sinking into the wet sand in sluggish tendrils.

Blood.

"No! Stop that, stop!"

You scramble upright, stomach at your throat, hands grabbing frantically at the writhing seal to keep it from thrashing itself into worse injury.

"Hey, hey — settle down! Stop moving — please! You're making it worse!"

It doesn’t listen. It fights harder.

Panic and instinct are what fuels its every move, and the more you hold on, the more fiercely it resists, wails cutting straight to the center of your chest, high and desperate, feeding your own fear in a vicious cycle. Its pulse is hammering beneath your hands, a wild, terrified beating of a bird's wings matching your own as its breaths come fast, erratic, interrupted by harsh snorts and shuddering yelps. The pup is almost one singular muscle beneath your grip, trembling and taut with the primal need to flee.

"It's okay, it's okay, it's okay," you chant, the words spilling out in a frantic loop, cracking under the weight of utter desperation of not knowing what to do even as you're repeating you're there to helo. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Just let me help — please — fuck, what do I do — ow!"

Pain explodes up your right forearm before the scream even leaves your throat.

Teeth. Deep. Sinking into muscle like fire.

Your body jolts with the instinct to yank away, but you don’t. You can’t. One wrong move and you’ll scare it even more, maybe make it clamp down harder. Tears blur your vision, breath coming in ragged gasps as you bite your own molars together, forcing yourself to go still.

And then — so does the seal.

The aggressive lashing out ceases, replaced by eerie, frozen silence. Its nostrils flare against your skin, warm breath feathering across the bite, making the hairs on your arm stand on end. Your pulse pounds between your teeth, the sting of the wound dulling under the weight of something more pressing — its eyes.

Two inky pools, round and bottomless, reflecting your fractured likeness like tiny mirrors.

"Please," you whisper, shaky, but soft. "I just want to help. You're safe. I won’t hurt you."

The grip on your arm doesn't tighten. Doesn't loosen. The only thing left between you is the weight of your words and the fragile, fragile stillness.

"Let me go," you murmur, swallowing hard. "And we’ll fix this. Okay?"

There's a pause, a single, terrifying moment suspended in time. Then, the seal's jaws relax, and he releases his painful grip on your throbbing arm, and as quickly as the assault began, it ends. Blood rushes forth in a thin rivulet down your wrist and between your fingers. It doesn't really hurt, not compared to the dull ache in the rest of your exhausted body, and the relief that washes over you is so profound that you're momentarily dizzy from it. And yet... The fact that the seal has calmed down means everything.

"It's okay, it’s okay, don't worry about it," you say hurriedly, intended for yourself more than anything so you wouldn't freak out about it. "You were scared, that's all. It's not your fault."

But the pup isn’t looking at the net.

Its gaze is locked onto your arm, the blood pooling at the wound, round, ink-dark eyes impossibly wider, focused in a way that makes something in your chest tighten.

You stare at him, and for a fleeting, impossible second, it feels like he understands. Like he knows what he did. Awe prickles through you, pushing aside the pain, the exhaustion, everything.

Seals are intelligent — you’ve always known that — but this is so magical to experience how emotionally aware they are.

"Hey. Hey, I’m fine, buddy," you insist. "Look at me, look. I'm good, it’s just a scratch. Let's focus on getting that net off, yeah? Can't have you swimming away in that state. You’ll drown."

As you lean in to inspect, the pup shies away initially, clearly wary and distrustful, but eventually allows you to examine the tangled mess of knots and lines ensnaring his sleek, streamlined figure. The heavy, dense debris he's wrapped in like a blanket is making it impossible to unravel anything, and the more you try to remove it, the tighter the bindings grow. Your injured arm is growing numb, which is probably not a good sign, but there's no time to dwell on that now.

Frustrated and increasingly anxious, you search frantically for something in your backpack to use as scissors or a knife, but the jerky movements make the pup tense up, its tail slapping nervously in the sand, and you have to take several calming breaths to prevent scaring him further.

"Sorry, sorry. Didn't mean to frighten you. I'll be gentler," you promise in a rush. "Just bear with me, okay?"

All you can find is your nail clippers, but they'll have to suffice. With painstaking care, you snip away at the individual strands binding the pup's limbs together, pausing every few moments to reassure him that everything is alright, that it will survive and go back to the rookery islet. Its fur is wet and matted with blood beneath the ropes, and the sight sends a fresh surge of anger through your veins at the thought of whoever abandoned such a careless trap in the ocean.

"Almost got it, buddy, almost, you're doing great," you sniffle, working steadily to free its front flippers. They're the most delicate and prone to injuries, according to Elias. "One last cut and..."

With a soft pop, the final strand gives way and the net falls loose, the release of pressure causing the seal to scramble sideways and flop awkwardly onto his belly in a clumsy roll. It lies there motionless for a brief second before letting out a piercing, mournful wail that stabs at the pit of your stomach.

You drop your tool and fall to your knees beside him, hands hovering uncertainly over its body. You don't dare touch, afraid of hurting it further. In a burst of energy, the pup pushes itself upright, body wiggling and coiling to propel it forward in a frantic dash towards the safety of the sea. You watch helplessly, unable to move or think or react in any way, until it pauses halfway to the shoreline and glances back at you, a low whine emanating from his throat.

"Go on, get out of here," you urge him, waving it onward. "Stay safe and take care of yourself, alright? You've had enough close calls today." A pang of dread hits you, realizing how much danger the pup was already in and how lucky it had been that you happened to be nearby to save it from a terrible fate. But now, all you can do is let it return to its natural environment. "Be free, cutie," you say quietly. "Live well and happy. You deserve better than this."

The pup hesitates, still watching you with those soulful, inscrutable black eyes. Then, in an act that leaves you speechless, it turns and galumphs back to your side, lowering its head and nudging its muzzle against the bleeding gash on your forearm. When it pulls away, his whiskers are slick with red, and a strange sense of gratitude overwhelms you.

"Oh, you angel," you manage, a lump forming in your throat. The urge to viciously pet his head is strong, but this isn’t a cat or a dog. Your arm really might get bitten off from the elbow socket. "Now scram. I'm sure your mama is worried about you."

This time, the seal does as instructed. It slides gracefully down the sandy slope and slips into the waves, vanishing from view in an instant. Only a small trail of blood remains, mingling with the foam and seawater that wash over the shore, evidence of the ordeal endured by this remarkable creature wiped away in an instant by the protective hands of the sea.

The shock of it all, of the stress and adrenaline, finally catches up to you and you collapse backwards in the sand, the pain in your arm flaring once again and only now feeling the cuts on the bottom of your feet.

Shaken to your bones in a way you can’t quite name, your fingers fumble to switch off airplane mode before you even realize what you’re doing. The moment the call connects, you’re babbling into the phone, voice thick with tears, words tangled and frantic. Mom struggles to make sense of you, but it doesn’t take long for her to find you — half an hour later, sprawled on the ground, your windbreaker haphazardly draped over your shoulders, backpack wedged beneath your head. The gash on your arm is wrapped in a makeshift tourniquet, one of your old bandanas knotted tightly around the wound.

If Dad’s ferry hadn’t been stuck in the harbor, he would’ve been here too. No doubt about it.

You get an earful the moment she kneels beside you. Irresponsible. Reckless. Running off without telling anyone. Dad would’ve had a heart attack if things had gone any worse. Yes, yes, yes. You let her words wash over you, nodding at the right moments, too drained to do anything else. Her hugs and kisses make up plenty for it.

Neither of you bring up the fight. Neither of you need to. Some things are easier left unspoken.

She doesn’t mention the festival, either. But you both know what kind of rumors will be swirling by morning.

For now, you're taken to the local clinic and given a rabies and a tetanus shot, and a lecture from the nurse who treated you, warning you to never approach a wild animal again because the next time, you might not be as lucky.

#love and deepspace #rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #rafayel fluff #rafayel #lads rafayel x reader #lads rafayel x you #l&ds rafayel x reader #lnds rafayel x reader #lads rafayel #l&ds rafayel #lnds rafayel #lads #lnds #l&ds

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reddesires · 9 months ago

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Is It Casual?

Logan Howlett x Mutant Reader

Warnings: Angst, Implication Of Sex

18+ MDNI!!

Fandom: Wolverine, X-Men

A/N: Omg this was actually so hard to write because I had the idea in my head, but writing it was such a struggle and I honestly feel it felt so much more impactful in my head but I do have a part 2 in mind if this does good soo yeah! Enjoy!

Reader's hero name is Anamnesis, and her powers are Paramnesia/Telekinesis.

Your eyes wandered over the rays of light beaming through the shades, your chest feeling particularly hollow this morning.

Your fingers absentmindedly caress the empty space next to you, it’s long since lost the warmth of logan’s body and your almost tempted to curl up in the spot and not move for the rest of time knowing that his absence is only the result of your loveless affair, a truce of using each other’s bodies with no feelings getting in the way of that.

Sitting up is a struggle as your body and mind fight you on wanting nothing more than to never leave this bed. You sigh tiredly as you exasperatedly rub your eyes.

You know that you’ll have to pretend that everything is fine, that you’re not drowning in an endless water whirl of being dragged into the same situationship with Logan, that he doesn’t catch your eye with one look and you’ll smile and nod as you try your hardest to block out those feelings, you’ll swallow it all in attempt to save yourself from utter and total damnation.

But you’ll slip, you’ll get too close to him and your resolve will falter and you know that he’ll give you that look and he’ll end up in your bed at the end of the night, you’ll let him and i love you will sit on the tip of your tongue and dissipate only when he slips out from underneath your sheets.

Logan holds you with a warmth that is unlike any other that has done the same, a protectiveness that causes a knot to grow in your throat, his eyes glinting under the moonlight that streams in through your windows and you’ll brush your fingers down his jaw tenderly as you try to refrain from telling him how pretty he looks from between your thighs.

You’ll just have to settle with the bite marks and bruises that bloom on your skin after, and you’ll try not to curl in on yourself as you hear your bedroom door close behind him.

You feign a smile as you step into the Professor’s office, the others greeting you warmly as you stride past Logan and your fingers will tingle as he brushes his hand against yours, you’ll avoid eye contact but you can feel his eyes following after you, it’s tempting but shoving it down and ignoring it helps ease the reality that lays before you, he isn’t interested in having you be his in the long run.

Storm turns to you with a bright smile hugging you into her, and you sigh with relief nuzzling the side of your head into hers more than happy to receive a small form of comfort, she has become a beacon in your life and though she is the storm goddess herself, she’s been the main reason you ever found reason to look through it in the first place and even though she has no idea of the casual fling you have going on with Logan she's been more than willing to be your shoulder to cry on, no words needed.

“Good morning, Anamnesis.” Professor X nods before proceeding with the details of the upcoming mission, you can’t help but let your mind wander onto the total enigma of a man that’s eclipsed on every aspect of your daily life, his presence enough to choke out every thought you should be focused on and you nod and smile as you pretend you are immersed in the discussion when really your mind is on loop of nights spent in the arms of the man who stands only a foot away from you, his gaze burning into you as you pretend that you don’t notice.

Storm pulls you by the arm out of the office when the Professor dismisses you all, her hand squeezing yours in hidden concern to your reserved behavior.

“You know I can tell when something is bothering you.” When she looks back at you, you can see the brimming suspicion in her eyes and you feel your throat dry at the very idea of admitting of the casual thing you have going on with Logan, the thought of saying out loud that the man that you have only admitted to yourself that you loved was only reserving you as a fling was too painful, it was too real and too much for you to truly comprehend, saying out loud made it real.

Just pretend, it’s what you do best, you tell yourself.. “It’s just stress, not sleeping the best..” You sigh while running a nervous hand through your hair and you hope that was enough to throw her off your trail, Storm only looks at you for a beat before she lays her hand on your shoulder, her grip supportive and gentle.

“Okay..You should go rest then, I’ll see you later.” You smile weakly squeezing her hand back before you slowing walk towards the staircase with all intentions of barricading yourself in your room to reevaluate all your life decisions, as you look back you notice that storm has already left the hallway more than likely handle her tasks for the day, you hope that she won’t be adamant on figuring out what’s going on with you, the last thing you wanted was to worry her with your lack of good decisions and your very prominent friends with benefits deal.

You hear the deep baritone of Logan’s voice in the library study just as your passing, the door only slightly cracked open as you peek into the room, and you can see Logan’s back to you and standing next to him is Jean as she looks sternly at him, your unsure of what the beginning of their conversation entailed but you can see the tension in his shoulders as he looked forward at the wall in front of him.

“You’ve been staring at her. Is there something going on between you two?” Her voice is far from indifferent, and it makes your breath hitch as you await his answer. This wasn’t an encounter you ever expected to ever stumble upon. You know that Logan had feelings for Jean in the past and your not sure if he still does but as you watch him get closer to her, him towering over her, his face too close to hers for your liking, you know his response will only tighten the vices of you pain riddled heart once again.

“There's nothing going on.” His answer was short and clear, cutting through you like broken glass.

Nothing, nothing.. Nothing.

It was always meant to be that way, right? You can feel the hollowness in your chest from that morning settling deeper, its claws gripping into your skin and you can feel it so vividly that your hand immediately clutches your chest in an attempt of nursing the sting.

Of course it’s nothing. There were no feelings involved. It was all casual.. Was it all casual?

As you walk to your bedroom in a daze all you can think about is those moments when he would gently grab your cheeks as he pulled you into a kiss, when he hugs you from behind as you get ready for the day in the mirror after spending the night together, or spending half the night pillow talking in intimate hushed whispers.. It was casual.. It’s nothing..

You stare back into the mirror, your eyes devoid of emotion, you can feel the impending doom of your next decisions, you can feel the guilt rushing over you as you decide that it’ll be better if there truly was nothing, nothing at all. There’ll be nothing at all to remember.

You’ll both go on with your life with no strings attached. The tears steadily stream from your eyes and you watch as they land on your vanity, puddling miserably and as you wipe them from your face, you feign a smile, you’ll just have to pretend until you don’t have to.

You sit with your decision in the communal living room, the mansion silent as the both the students and teachers have the day off spending it out, you chose to stay behind with the intent of trying not to ruin what little bit of self restraint you have left but you know you're fucked when you feel his hand on your head as he rounds the couch your sitting on, you look up at Logan, and your emotions become a whirlwind as he gazes back at you.

“Hey princess.” His voice is rough with what seemed like exhaustion, you can only assume he didn’t sleep well last night, you have been brushing off your nightly meetups with excuses of not feeling well so you're sure he’s been up fighting his sleep. “Hey Lo..” You utter scooching into the arm of the couch watching as he settles next to you and you can feel the impending doom rush over you again, you try to shake it but it's hanging on, it's insistent, demanding.

“You don't look so good, not sleeping again, Wolvie?” The words are smooth as you say it but you can feel your fingers trembling and he’s none the wiser to it as leans over to you placing his head on your lap, you instinctively run your fingers through his hair and he hums in response.

“Been hard, no easier without you.” His voice has a vulnerable edge to it and you can feel the tremble of your fingers tremble again, there it is, the words that cause hope to pop its head from beneath those turbulent waves but you push it down, you’ll drown that hope because it’s just casual, it’s nothing.

“Rest Logan, I'll be here.” Those words feel sickly sweet in your mouth, but you still smile despite that, and the light smile that pulls on his lips as he closes his eyes makes you falter.. Remember it’s casual..

He’s so relaxed and trusting while he lies on your lap, the way the sun's rays reflects off his brown hair honeying it in warmth and the serene bubble around him makes your resolve falter and the knot in your throat all the more painful, you love him more than words could possibly convey and you want nothing more than to reach for a reality that you two have something more than this casual fling.. casual.. it leaves a bitter taste on your tongue.

As you lay your palm over his closed eyes, the glow of your mutation springing up upon contact, your lip trembles as a tear stubbornly falls as you warp and remove memories of the two of you.

Memories of nights filled with comforting him as he struggles with his relentless nightmares and tender whispers of reassurance of the others' self worth replaced with images of a friendship that never strayed off course, a close friendship that was never tainted with passionate carnal touch.

There wasn't a struggle on his end, the lightness of his breathing and the tilt of his head indicating his defenses were nowhere to be seen and you swallow down the sob that painfully travels up from your chest, you broke your promise for the sake of both you. No attachment.

There was nowhere you loved more than being Logan's bed as he pulled you into his naked chest, his beard brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck and the soft giggles that escape you as you bask in the glow of another long night of being with Logan.

“Where'd you go, sweet girl?” Logan's gruff voice pulls you from the tsunami of thoughts filling your head, and you can't help but ease yourself more into his arms. He tightens his hold under your naked breasts.

“Mm, I'm here. I'm just thinking about training..” You mutter as you softly graze your hand over the skin of his arm, slowly trailing down to his hand and massaging the skin of his knuckles. “Memory manipulation.. Quite a power.” You can't help but notice an undercurrent of unease in his voice, and you slightly turn your head to look back at him catching his gaze, your hand caressing the side of his jaw.

“I know, you don't have to worry. You're scotch free of my abilities.” He chuckles as he shakes his head, tilting his head into your hand, kissing the tender skin of your wrist. “promise?”

There's a beat of silence. “Promise.”

Looking at your reflection now is almost unbearable as the weight your decision comes crashing over you, determined to drag your under those unforgiving waves, your guilt grabbing at you from all angles and wrapping its talons into your throat as a sob emits loudly from you, the tears bubbling over as you lean over the sink, your body losing the strength to hold you up.

The frustration and anger come creeping in within the cracks of your destroyed morality and resolve. This is the consequence of making those stupid decisions. All this pain and refusal to admit the reality to yourself caused this. It was never casual, there was attachment.

why did you let it drag on for so long? It was always there on the tip of your tongue. You could've said it. It's too late now. This was the consequence.

You look up at your reflection, placing your finger on your temple, the swirl of your power revving up as you blocked out your own memories warping your reality of him, your eyes glazing over in a white sheen as you grunted out exasperatedly, determined to forget it all.

Forget his touch, his scent, and the way his lips felt on yours. You can see the memories disappear right before your eyes, the blood dripping out of your nose doing little to snap you out of your self-inflicted memory wipe.

Soon enough, it'll be nothing at all.

Next Part: It Wasn't Nothing.

#wolverine x reader #logan howlett x reader #wolverine #logan howlett x you #wolverine x you #x men #hugh jackman #deadpool and wolverine #xmen wolverine #xmen logan #reader insert #fanfic #fanfiction #deadpool & wolverine #deadpool #deadpool 3

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caelivir · 3 months ago

Note

Um um.....Miya atsumu Long way 2 go -- Casie

And and trope- enemies to lovers??

Also I love your writing👾👾

now playing: long way 2 go by casie

atsumu? this song? enemies to lovers? i think you just sent me to heaven. i don't think you understand how hard i'm geeking right now. i keep whisper screaming "YOU'RE A GENIUS". and thank you!

content. rich boy!miya atsumu x fem!reader, atsumu’s lowkey a downbad loser, tension (at least i hope it is) | wc. 905

atsumu thinks he's hot shit. you know of plenty of guys his type. how could you not? your school is full of them. they think their good looks and endless pockets let them get away with anything. there’s so many of them, but out of all of them, the one you despise the most is atsumu.

you’ve never met someone with an ego so inflated that it rivaled the size of earth. there’s no one who makes you want to tear out your own nerves out more than him.

atsumu is well-aware that you loathe him. he hates you just as much, but instead of ignoring you like a normal person does, he discovers new ways to tick you off. he's like a bacteria who's always finding a way to invade your system.

and now you’re stuck with this damn vermin in a tight, janitorial closet, and it’s his fault.

“be honest. are you an imbecile? like were you dropped as a baby? how do you miss the sign that said, ‘lock broken. leave door open if inside.’?” you fume in the dark.

“do ya ever shut yer mouth?” you don’t need to see atsumu to visualize the harsh glare he has. you can hear his hands fumbling around, searching for any kind of light switch.

you scoff. “oh that’s loaded coming for you. thanks to you, we’re missing class right now!”

at that moment, you hear a click, and a warm light fills the room. you never realized how close atsumu actually was. his body is nearly pressed against yours, his arm hanging above from when he pulled the cord of the light bulb down.

atsumu’s eyes are just as wide as yours, and he backs up, even if it’s only a mere step before his back crashes into a shelf of cleaning supplies that clatter upon contact.

you wince. “do i repulse you that much?”

atsumu doesn’t give you the grace of responding, narrowing his eyes at you as straightens his back, rolling back his shoulders in the limited space he has. when he loosens the tie of his school uniform, you stare at the hand tugging it down, veins prominent on his skin.

the action was… hot… to say the least. your hand twitches like it wants to slap you for ever thinking that.

“you don’t.”

“what?”

atsumu looks annoyed at the fact that he has to repeat himself but he does anyway. “you don’t… repulse me.”

“not true. you actively try to make my life hell every single day. no sane person does that unless they absolutely despise someone.” you correct, chuckling without humor.

“i…” the sentence crumbles in his throat. you see a blush creep up on his neck. the rosy pink reaches the tips of his ears. he turns his head away as if he were ashamed.

you laugh. now this is a sight, miya atsumu actually being embarrassed. you want to push this, see how far you can go.

“what is it, miya?” you tease, taking a step closer to invade his space. “cat got your tongue?”

atsumu backs up even further into the shelves. you’re sure it’s digging into his back. he gulps at the sight of you.

“do i make you nervous?” you trail your finger on his tie. atsumu follows the motion until it leads his back up to your eyes.

he burns a brighter red. “like hell i do.”

it hits you then.

oh.

“you hate me.” you breathe out in a whisper. “and you like me.”

atsumu tenses like you just caught him in an act, like you just announced it to the entire freaking world. you wrap your hand around his loose tie. once. twice.

“you’re so pathetic.”

it’s the last thing you utter before you’re tugging him by his tie, pressing your lips to his. atsumu’s reaction is immediate, resting his hands on your hips, bunching up the skirt of your uniform.

he wants more. you can sense it by the way his hands are slipping down to your thighs, and because of it, you pull away. atsumu chases after your lips, but you slightly pull your head back. you see the annoyance in his eyes.

you pull him again by his tie again, this time bringing his ear by your mouth. “don’t get it twisted, miya. you still piss me off, but i’m a firm believer of thinking that things can change. you want me? work for it. earn it. ‘cause the way you are now you’re still a long way from having me.”

the door to the closet swings open suddenly, flooding the room with a light brighter than the one shining over your heads.

“damn kids,” the janitor grumbles. “what the hell are you doing in here? you’re here at best school in the country and don’t know how to read, even skipping class. unbelievable.”

you smile, unraveling your hand from atsumu’s tie. “sorry for the inconvenience, sir. my friend here will pay you for the trouble we caused. consider it a token of appreciation for keeping our prestigious school so clean and beautiful, if you know what i mean.”

the janitor is practically bubbling with joy the moment he comprehends the meaning behind your words. atsumu glares at you like you’re unbelievable. you only wink, waving goodbye and blowing a kiss as you saunter down the hall, the fire of atsumu’s lips still lingering on yours.

#♪ ݂۫ kory’s aux event ♪ ݂۫#haikyuu #hq #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #atsumu miya #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu fluff #⭑ — fics ⭑.ᐟ♡#♡ — hq #♡ — tsumu

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drabbles-mc · 11 months ago

Text

We Were Just Leaving

Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut (protected p in v), language, alcohol, strangers to lovers

For Week 2 of Hot Bucky Summer: "What should I call you?"

Word Count: 6.3k

A/N: my first time ever writing smut for bucky. it truly is a Hot Bucky Summer! 😂 biggest thanks to @buckybarnesevents for putting on this event! endless appreciation for all of your hard work 💞 maybe i'll write more for these two in this event if another prompt strikes inspo for them 👀

Going out on your own to get a drink and decompress after a long week had sounded like a great idea until about three minutes ago. Ever since then you’d been silently kicking and cursing yourself for not taking up your coworkers on their Happy Hour offer. The last thing you’d wanted to do after the way your week had gone was socialize, even with coworkers that you generally liked and got along with.

But now that seemed like the greatest thing in the world compared to the situation you were about to find yourself in. Theo from the finance department and his same half a dozen jokes seemed like a dream to be across a table from compared to your ex who had just walked through the door of the bar you were at.

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath.

You had less than a couple minutes to try and scamper out before he saw you. And the only reason you had that kind of time at all was because the bar was busy and it would take longer to spot you in the midst of everyone. But the second that your ex got up to the bar with his buddies to order drinks, your cover would be blown.

You dug some cash out of your purse, tossing enough onto the top of the bar to cover the one drink you’d ordered so far and the tip for the bartender. You were zipping your bag back up as you were hopping off the stool that you’d been sitting on. Your eyes were fixed on your purse, frustrated that this was the one time that the zipper decided to jam. The whole time you were straining your ear to make sure that you could hear how close your ex was, trying to hear his voice or his laughter.

“Fuck,” you were trying to weave your way through the crowd but the clusters and groups of friends all lingering and waiting for their chance to slink up to the bar and order were all packed tightly. You didn’t remember when this spot became a popular place to be. You huffed, trying to say, “Excuse me,” loud enough for people to hear you but not so loud that it came across as rude or drew any real attention to you.

A pocket of space opened up and you were more relieved than you should’ve been. Clutching your bag tight to you, you took long, measured strides to try and slip through the small groups of people that had parted ways just enough for you to sneak through. You were almost to the other side of them, almost out of what would be an easy range for your ex to see you, when someone took a step backwards as they laughed and inadvertently bumped right into you.

The fact that it was an accident did nothing to soothe your nerves. Them stepping back sent you stumbling mid-stride and bumping right into someone sitting at one of the few small high-top tables that the bar had scattered around. You felt a hand on your back and the heat flaring up in your face and you were already sputtering out five different apologies at once before you’d even fully turned around to face the person you’d bumped into.

When you looked at his face, all the words stopped cascading past your lips. Still white-knuckling your purse, still feeling like your face and throat were on fire from embarrassment, you found yourself incapable of looking anywhere but at the icy blue eyes staring back at you.

He didn’t look happy about you bumping into him, per se, but he didn’t look as angry or annoyed as other people in the bar might’ve been. No drinks were spilled in the process, which was a bonus. He raised his eyebrows slightly as he looked at you, but his expression was otherwise neutral.

“S-sorry,” you finally forced out, clear but still uncertain.

He shook his head. “It’s fine.”

“Okay.” You nodded, knowing that you should be forcing your feet to carry you away, but you were locked in place.

His eyebrows went from raised to pinched together. Apparently, he took your hesitancy to leave as you not believing his simple reassurance. “Really,” he emphasized with a small nod, “it’s fine. You can go—seemed like you were in a rush anyway.”

Your eyes widened slightly at that, the full scope of the situation coming back to you. You cleared your throat. “Right. Thanks. Thank you. Sorry. I’m just gonna—” you were halfway to motioning over your shoulder when a vaguely familiar voice blared like an airhorn in your ear.

“Well look who it is!”

Turning to look over your shoulder, your stomach dropped. It wasn’t your ex, but you knew that he was going to run right back to your ex and tell him that you were here. Even if you tried to bolt it wasn’t going to do you any good. You were in it now.

“Hey,” you said, keeping it short, trying to make your tone as unenthusiastic as possible.

“Oh, Ricky’s gonna be stoked that you’re—”

“I was just—”

He waved you off. “Wait right here—I’ll go grab him.”

“Don’t—” It didn’t matter what you were going to say next because he was already taking back off towards the bar. You let out a deep sigh. “Fuck.”

You’d nearly forgotten the man stuck in the middle of all this until he spoke up again. “So, who’s Ricky?” There was a hint of amusement to his voice despite the fact that his expression hadn’t changed much at all.

You shook your head. “Whatever you’re already thinking, just go with that,” you said with a shake of your head.

“Rough.”

You had to laugh at the simple response. “Yeah. That’s why I was, you know,” you gestured vaguely towards the door that you had previously been trying to get to as quickly as possible.

You shook your head again, unable to do anything else. Each second that passed you could feel the anxious jitters building. You had no interest in talking to him ever again, and you knew that if he started talking to you, it was going to be nearly impossible to get out of it. That’s just how he was. You were so deep in thought and oncoming panic that you hadn’t noticed the way you were gnawing the inside of your lip until you felt a slight sting from it.

Turning to look at the man who hadn’t asked for any of this, you said, “You don’t owe me a favor, but do you think you could still do one for me?”

He shook his head, “I’m not gonna beat up—”

That got a genuine laugh out of you. “No, no. I mean, I bet you could. But just, can you pretend that we were here together and that we were leaving? I just, I need an exit strategy.”

“What, you want me to pretend to be your new boyfriend so your old one will leave you alone?”

“You don’t have to be my boyfriend. Just, be some friend that wanted to grab a drink with me. And get me the fuck out of here. Please.”

The pause that ensued didn’t give you anything resembling hope. But he must’ve taken just enough pity on you because his shoulders dropped as he sighed. “Alright, fine.”

Relief coursed through you even though you were nowhere near through this exchange yet. “Thank you.”

“What should I call you?” he asked.

You gave him a confused look. “My…my name, I guess?”

Your face and the tone of your response had him feeling whatever embarrassment you’d been battling with earlier when you bumped into him. He saw it all over your face then, and he was certain that you could see it all over his face now. The whole situation was much simpler about sixty seconds ago when you were the more flustered one in the scenario. Now he was the one in uncertain territory. He didn’t know why he asked it like that, but it was what had come out of his mouth when he tried to ask you for your name. It crossed his mind for a moment that maybe you’d bumped into the wrong person to get you out of this mess but it was too late now.

“Yeah. Um, enlighten me?” The laugh that you let out at that wasn’t a cruel one, which was the only reason he didn’t double-down on his embarrassment. You were amused, perhaps even a little relieved. After all, you could’ve just told him your name in response to his first question. As it stood, you told him now and he nodded. “Right.”

You figured you should know his too. “What’s—”

You didn’t get to finish the question let alone get the answer before your ex and his friend reappeared in front of you. They each had a drink in their hand and smug smiles on their faces. The reality of what had you asking ridiculous favors of a stranger you’d only known for about five minutes suddenly crashed down over you again. The knot in your stomach was back with a vengeance as you looked at the man in front of you, knowing that he was feeling none of the dread that you currently were.

“I didn’t believe it when he told me,” Ricky spoke up, nodding in the direction of his friend. “Thought you were still avoiding me.”

You forced yourself to swallow past the lump in your throat. “I tried to tell him that we were just taking off,” you replied, hating how defeated you sounded.

The smug look on your ex’s face disappeared instantly when he heard the word we. It was only then that he realized you were standing right next to a man. A man whose name you still didn’t know but he didn’t know that part.

“We?” Ricky repeated. “Well, care to introduce us?”

You tried not to let your panic show on your face. At this point you were ready to just give this random stranger you’d met in a bar an equally random name and apologize for it later. You barely registered the sound of his chair scraping against the floor as he pushed it away from the table and stood himself up from it.

Fighting the uncertainty out of your voice, you said, “This is—”

He cut you off by putting himself between you and Ricky, holding his hand out for the man to shake in the process. “James,” he said as he nonchalantly slipped his free hand into yours. It wasn’t a gesture you’d been expecting, but you weren’t going to go against it either. There was something reassuring about the callouses of his palm against your skin as he threaded your fingers together. When he broke off the handshake with your ex, he gave a small tilt of his head and said, “Ricky, right?”

You knew that you weren’t doing a good job at all at hiding the pleased and surprised look on your face. The feeling only intensified when you saw the way it through Ricky completely off-kilter, whatever hand he had been planning on playing now no longer available to him.

He cleared his throat, and you noticed the way he adjusted, tightened his grip on the glass he was holding. He tried to recover from the temporary upset. “So, you’ve heard about me, then?” he asked, the look on his face letting you know that he considered it to be a good thing.

You were rolling your eyes and about to come back with something when James beat you to the punch. “Unfortunately, yeah.”

You tried to suppress the smile that wanted to take over your face but you weren’t sure if you did. You found yourself giving James’s hand a light squeeze, instinctively placing your other hand in the center of his back.

Ricky was trying to sputter out a response and James didn’t let him get a single coherent word out. “Like she said,” he gave you a small, gentle nudge towards the door, “we were just leaving.”

“I—”

James was already turning around and taking off towards the door. He called back over his shoulder, more nonchalant than your ex could ever hope to be, “Nice meeting you, Ricky.”

You were glad that the music and general chatter of the bar was hiding the sound of your laughter as the two of you made your way towards the door. Navigating the crowds was so much easier when you were attached to a man built the way that he was—funny how that seemed to work. The two of you were able to quickly maneuver your way to and out the door.

There was no better sound in the world to you than your boots hitting the concrete sidewalk outside the bar. The relief of being out of there was more than you were able to say in the moment, so instead you just kept laughing as you instinctively headed in the direction on the sidewalk that would eventually lead back to your apartment.

In that moment, there was no better sound in the world to James than the sound of you laughing. You were thanking him as the two of you walked away, and he was content to follow you under the guise of being committed to the little ruse you’d put together, to getting you far enough away from the bar to be considered out of the danger zone. He wondered if you, in the midst of your relief, even noticed that you were still holding onto his hand. He certainly still noticed.

You stopped suddenly and turned to look at him, eyes wide. “Oh, shit,” you gasped.

He looked over his shoulder, expecting your reaction to be because your ex had followed the two of you, or something similar. “What?”

You gestured back towards the bar. “Your drink! We didn’t pay—”

His laughter stopped you short. Shaking his head he said, “I was paid up.”

Your shock and tension both disappeared. “Oh. Okay.” It was then that you realized you were still holding his hand. You let go immediately, face warm as you let out a nervous laugh. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

The two of you stood on the sidewalk, a few inches separating you as you faced each other. “So,” you started, the awkwardness that had previously disappeared rearing its head again, “James your real name or just something you made up so my ex can’t stalk you on Facebook or something?”

He laughed and shook his head. “I don’t have Facebook. But yeah, it’s my real name. You,” he cracked a tiny grin, “you can call me Bucky, though.”

You smiled. “Bucky? That, you know, that what I should call you?” you joked.

He laughed, head tilting back slightly as did. He felt the way his face heated up at that and he just hoped that it was dark enough outside to hide the fact that he was probably blushing. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Reaching out, you gently placed your hand on the outside of his bicep for all of a moment, not that it stopped him from being able to feel the warmth of your palm through the blue fabric of his henley. “Well, thank you, Bucky. I appreciate it. Sorry if I totally ruined your night.”

“You didn’t,” he said with no hesitation. “Sorry that your ex ruined yours.”

You shrugged, feeling the way that your lips were slowly tugging up into a smile. “Could’ve been worse.”

“Do you have plans right now?” Bucky asked, unsure of where the question came from or how it got out past his lips.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I was just planning on going home. Why? Have better plans in mind?”

It took him no time at all to realize that he’d walked himself into this with no idea where he was going with it. He knew that he had a decent poker face but even so he had a feeling you could read him like a book in that moment. And he definitely wasn’t reading like a mystery novel.

“I didn’t know if…you know…” he trailed off for a moment, “Wanna get…coffee? Or something?”

You chuckled and gave a small shrug. “Sure. Coffee sounds good.” You started to walk. “Or something.”

He quickly strode to catch up with you. “Got a place in mind?”

You laughed as you looked over at him. “Well, it didn’t seem like you did.”

It could’ve been a much more embarrassing call out if there hadn’t been such a warm look in your eyes. The only thing that he could think to do in the moment was follow you, so that was exactly what he did.

You couldn’t remember the last time that an invitation for a simple cup of coffee had suddenly caused an entire night to slip by. You didn’t even end up drinking all your coffee, too wrapped up in the conversation that you were having with Bucky. Funny that at the start of your evening you’d figured that a night alone was what you’d been needing, and yet sitting across from Bucky at a little café table, going wherever the conversation strayed to, left you feeling better than any number of nights by yourself at a bar or at home.

Bucky was fairly certain that he could talk to you all the way until the sun came back up again. He was also fairly certain that that fact had nothing to do with the caffeine from the coffee he’d had. His cup was empty, but he still found himself toying with it in his hands as the two of you talked. He didn’t know when the last time he got coffee with someone was. At least, someone who wasn’t Steve or Sam or Nat. This felt so foreign and new, yet there was something so familiar about you.

The pair of young twenty-somethings who were working at the coffee shop didn’t exactly tell you both to leave, didn’t exactly kick you out. But you both noticed the way that they were starting to wipe down the counter and tables and you knew better than to be the people who stayed right up until the last minute. Even though this time, you really wanted to. Getting a few more minutes with Bucky almost seemed worth it.

When the two of you were back out on the sidewalk once more, you turned to face him. The jitters you’d had when you left the bar hours before were gone, but there was a new feeling in its place. Similar but different. More excitement, more curiosity, more hope. You didn’t know what to do about it, though, didn’t know what to say to articulate those feelings.

“Well,” you finally said with a soft laugh, “now I really took up your whole night.”

The smile that Bucky gave you was charming enough to nearly have your knees knocking together. “Not the whole night.”

You hummed in amusement. “Then I’ll let you go before it turns into that.”

He tucked his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “You’re alright getting home?”

You smiled and nodded. “Yeah. I’m only a couple blocks away.”

“I can walk you,” he offered.

You should’ve hesitated at least a little bit, but you didn’t. “That’d be nice.”

The two of you fell into stride beside each other. The first little stint was silent, but not uncomfortably so. You couldn’t speak for Bucky, but you knew that you were trying to figure out what was going to happen when you made it to the main door of your apartment building. You also knew, though, that no amount of overthinking it now was going to make it any easier to navigate then. So, you did what the two of you had been doing successfully for the last few hours, and picked a new topic out of thin air to talk about.

By the time you reached your building, you were walking so close to Bucky that your arm was practically pressed against his. He didn’t seem to mind—it wasn’t as though he was trying to pull away. Every now and then when you laughed, you’d give him a playful little bump, shoulder to shoulder, and Bucky had to fight the urge to drape his arm around you and pull you closer.

Stopping in front of one of the many tall brick buildings on the block, you nodded towards the door before opening your purse to find your keys. “This is me.”

Even though you’d hold him that you were only a couple of blocks away from the café, he still found himself surprised at how quickly you’d arrived. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed that the evening was over so soon. Never mind the fact that the evening had started hours ago, and completely on accident.

It took him a couple seconds longer than it should’ve to realize he was supposed to be saying something to you. “Oh,” he said, trying not to let his disappointment show, “okay.”

You were smiling as your eyes stayed trained on your purse, still fishing around for your keys. “Thank you for, well, all of it I guess,” you punctuated your sentence with a laugh.

He smiled warmly at you even though you weren’t looking at him yet. “No problem.”

“Ah,” you said as you finally found your keyring. You never thought your purse was all that large and yet you never seemed to find what you needed when you needed it. “Right. Well, I’d, um,” you stammered, wanting to ask and say about twenty different things and unable to decide on a single one of them. Taking a breath to get yourself together, you said, “I had a really good time, despite how all of this started,” you laughed for a moment and so did he, “and it’d be, I don’t know, I’d like to see you again…” you trailed off even though you didn’t mean to.

He smiled, relief and excitement battling it out in his chest. “I’d like that.”

Without giving it a second thought, he pulled out his phone and gave it to you, fumbling his way through asking you for your number. He would’ve been more self-conscious about his lack of grace with it if you hadn’t seemed so eager to type in your name and number.

You held his phone back out to him. “So, yeah, let me know when you’re free.”

He reached to take it back from you. There was the briefest moment of hesitation before you let his phone go, one that got him to look up from where your hands were nearly touching and into your eyes. You let go of his phone, and he slipped it back into the pocket of his jeans, but neither of you took your eyes off the other. Bucky couldn’t help but to notice the way that your teeth pulled just slightly at your bottom lip. He found himself opening his mouth to say something, but no words came out. He could’ve let it all die out there, or he could’ve let himself succumb to the nerves of not being able to conjure up something to say, but instead he found himself choosing a third option that he hadn’t even thought was available to him.

Stepping in and closing the tiny strip of space left between you, Bucky pressed his lips to yours. It was gentle, and brief. He pulled away when you’d barely gotten past the shock of him kissing you at all. You saw the way his eyes were searching yours, looking for the cue to either get lost or come back for more. The moment of silence terrified him, almost had him sputtering out an apology.

Then you closed the gap and kissed him again. A little more conviction, a palm resting against his chest. It was a minor miracle that you hadn’t dropped your keys to the ground as he kissed you back. His hand came up and cupped your cheek, palm warm against you despite the chilly night air.

When you pulled away, you couldn’t hide that it’d left you a little breathless. His hand was still cupping your face and it had you smiling wide enough to make your cheeks ache. Fidgeting with the keys in your hand, you forced yourself to speak. You purposely ignored how soft and breathy your voice was.

“You can come up if you want,” you offered.

You were just far enough away from him to see the surprise that crossed his features. “Yeah?”

You nodded, keenly aware of the way his hand felt on your face as you did. “Yeah.”

The slowness of the elevator in your apartment building was usually something that served to be a mild annoyance for you. However, this time, you wished that it would’ve taken longer to climb up to the fifth floor where your apartment was. Hell, you would’ve been fine if it had gotten stuck if it meant you had a few more moments with Bucky keeping you pressed against the wall, his lips capturing yours over and over again.

It was the singular chime that broke the two of you apart, the alert that you’d arrived at your floor. The walk from the elevator door to your apartment door was a short one but it felt tragically long when you had Bucky behind you with his hands on your hips and his lips on your neck. You had no idea how you managed to get your key into the lock so that the two of you could get inside, but you did it.

You closed and locked the door behind you once you were inside. Out of habit you reached and flicked the lights on. Bucky still had one hand on the small of your back, using the other to deftly undo the laces on his boots so he could toe them off beside your door where the rest of your shoes had been tossed haphazardly as the weeks had passed by.

You’d hardly dropped your purse and keys off when he was pressed up against you again, his chest flush against your back. You sucked in a tiny gasp as your body melted back into him. You wanted to say something but the second he was pulling the collar of your shirt to the side and pressing his lips to your shoulders, whatever pleasantries you’d been thinking of went completely out the window.

Even though you knew your apartment like the back of your hand, had navigated through it in the dark and after nights out when you had more than a few drinks, you nearly found yourself stumbling as you walked through the lit-up room with Bucky attached to you.

Once the two of you were in your bedroom, Bucky put his hands on your hips and spun you around so that you were facing him. He wasted no time as he leaned in and kissed your lips, like the few minutes of being unable to had been hours instead. His hands trailed their way up to your face, palms warm and rough to the touch all at once. Keeping his lips on yours, he walked you back towards your bed. You were reaching for the bottom hem of his shirt just as the backs of your legs pressed against the side of your mattress.

Bucky indulged you, assisting you in peeling his shirt off over his head and tossing it aside. Any time that you would’ve spent standing there gawking at him was quickly stolen away as he pressed himself close to you again, firmly but gently getting you back onto the bed.

Every movement felt like it fed so easily into the next. The pair of you were nothing but wandering hands and ragged breaths as you stripped the clothes off each other. The floor was littered with them but neither of you cared. Bucky was down to his boxers, you your bra and panties. He had you pinned underneath him but it didn’t stop his hands from roaming everywhere they could. They wandered across your stomach, up and down your thighs, grazing over your chest. Every touch and graze had you pressing yourself into him more and more, teeth pulling at his bottom lip as you let out little whines and whimpers of encouragement.

You could feel the effect that it had on him. No amount of wanting to feel every inch of you underneath his fingertips could stop him from grinding his hips against yours. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had him feeling so desperate so quickly—he didn’t know if there ever had been a last time.

Like you could hear his thoughts, Bucky felt your fingers curling over the edge of the waistband of his boxers. You started pushing them down his hips and Bucky had no intention of stopping you. He quickly kicked them off the rest of the way before his fingertips dragged down your stomach until they slipped underneath the waistband of your panties. The lightest brush of his fingers had you bucking into his hand and whatever plans he’d had to drag this out no longer mattered. He easily pulled the flimsy fabric down your legs, making quick work of it as you lifted your legs to help.

It took every last shred of Bucky’s self-control to not just slip right into you. The way you had your legs wrapped around his waist would’ve made it so easy to do. He kissed you, neediness bleeding from his lips to yours as his hands continued to trace lines up and down your thighs.

“Do you have—” Pulling away just enough so that your lips weren’t touching anymore, but not so much that you couldn’t feel his breath on your skin as he spoke. He managed to get out half the question he had before you cut him off.

“Top drawer,” you answered, already knowing where it was going.

The chuckle he let out got a smile out of you. The awkwardness and discomfort that occasionally accompanied first-time hookups was nowhere to be found. He pressed a brisk kiss to your lips before leaning and reaching over for the handle of the top drawer of your nightstand. You took advantage of the momentary position of vulnerability that he was in, lifting your head to kiss and then suck a mark where his neck met his shoulder. You heard the groan he let out, but more than that you could feel it as you kept your lips pressed there.

Him quickly tearing the foil of the condom with his teeth shouldn’t have been as hot as it was, and yet you found yourself staring. He caught it, too, and the smirk on his face would’ve made your knees week if you’d been standing rather than on your back beneath him.

You watched him roll the condom on, biting down so hard on your lip you were surprised that you didn’t draw blood. Your eyes slowly traveled their way back up his torso until you were looking into his. The eagerness, the tension in his body could be felt in all the places the two of you were connected. Even so, he still waited for one more yes from you.

The yes he was waiting for came in the form of you putting your hand on the back of his neck and pulling him down into a kiss, in the way you wrapped your legs a little tighter around him and pulled him in closer to you. You felt the way that he instantly gave in, slowly pushing into you as you moaned into his mouth at the sensation. You felt the way that he smiled into your kiss as your nails bit down into the flesh of his neck and shoulder.

“Fuck,” he rasped out, lips brushing against yours as he spoke. He took a moment to revel in it, the feeling of being buried into you so that his hips were flush against yours.

Moving your hand from the back of his neck so that it was cupping his chin, you pulled him back into another kiss. You felt each little hum and moan that he let out as he started to thrust into you, his arms on either side of your head caging you in. He kept himself pressed tightly to you, leaving your hands to wander the broad, muscular expanse of his back. The way you moaned his name, the moments when you’d rake your nails down his back, let him know that he was pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

He peeled himself off you, separating his chest from yours. You longed for the contact as soon as it was gone, but before you could think too much on it, he moved one of your legs so that it was draped over his shoulder. When he picked up his rhythm once more, you were grabbing onto his hips before you even knew what you were doing, begging him not to stop like he’d ever even dream of that in the first place.

Your leg was starting to tremble against his shoulder. Instinctively he turned and pressed a kiss to the side of your calf as he continued to thrust into you. Your grip on him tightened as you breathlessly moaned, “Just like that.”

A few more thrusts just like that and you were coming undone around him. He soaked in every moment of it, the feeling of you, the way you cried out his name, the way your body arched and tensed before going pliant.

He was chasing right after you, after that same high. He was nearly there and the soft, needy way you whined out, “Bucky,” in the waves of aftershock sent him clean over the edge. His hips stuttered as he came, your name tumbling from his lips. He collapsed against you, face buried in the crook of your neck as your legs went back to looping around his waist, keeping him pulled tight and still inside you.

You weren’t sure if it was your own heartbeat that you were feeling thudding in your chest or his, but you supposed it didn’t matter. Both of you were fighting to catch your breath, bodies practically melting into each other’s. You wrapped your arms around him, hands gentle on his back where just minutes before you’d been digging your nails into the cords of muscle there. He kissed the column of your throat, the little bit of stubble that was growing in feeling extra ticklish in your sensitive state, enough to get you to giggle and twitch at the sensation.

Once he’d gotten a little bit of his breath back, he propped himself up enough to look at you properly. “You okay?”

You laughed, unable to do anything else but that and nod for a moment. Finally, you said, “I’m great, yeah.” It got a chuckle out of him as you reached and trailed your fingertips down his cheek. “You okay?”

He nodded before leaning in and kissing you. “I’m great.” A few more moments passed in comfortable silence, the two of you just taking in the sight and state of each other. You noticed the small shifts in his expression, and you waited for whatever was coming next. “Um,” he looked over towards the door of your bedroom, “where’s your…so I can…”

You laughed, head dropping back against your pillow. “Out the door and to the left.”

He chuckled, a blush creeping over his cheeks. “Thanks. I’ll be, you know, right back.”

You afforded him the illusion of privacy as he searched and grabbed his boxers off the floor and scampered off to your bathroom. You chuckled as you managed to get yourself out of bed, making your way over to your dresser on wobbly legs to you could grab your own shirt to sleep in. You were back in bed and under the covers by the time Bucky came back.

When he got back to your bedside, he reached down and grabbed his shirt off the floor. He didn’t make an immediate move to put it on, instead just holding it loosely in his hand. “I can—”

“Stay,” you didn’t even want him to put the idea of leaving out into the universe. Not after the night the two of you had just had. “I mean,” you laughed softly, “if you want. I’d like that.”

There was no hesitation as he dropped his shirt to the ground. “Okay.”

He easily shimmied down underneath the covers beside you. You curled into him, allowing his arm to slip beneath you and pull you tighter so that your head was resting on his chest. You could feel the warmth of his skin, the thrumming of his heartbeat. You also started to feel not just the tiredness in your muscles from everything that had just happened, but also the exhaustion of how late it was now.

The same tiredness was present in Bucky’s voice as he spoke, words partially mumbled as he spoke them into your hair. “Light’s still on out there.”

“Leave it,” you replied words equally mumbled as you said them with your lips partially pressed against his chest. “I’ll worry about it tomorrow.”

The hum of amusement that he made let you know that he wasn’t going to worry about it now either. Draping his other arm around you, he slipped his hand underneath your shirt so that his hand was splayed across the center of your back and keeping you tight to him. Nestling farther into him, you rested your palm on his chest as you finally let yourself start drifting off to sleep.

(divider by @saradika-graphics 💞)

MCU Taglist: @garbinge @beardburnsupersoldiers @artemiseamoon @late-to-the-party-81 (If you want to be added to any of my taglists please let me know! xo)

#hotbuckysummer2024 #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #x reader #x reader fic #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc #marvel #marvel fanfiction #mcu #mcu fanfiction

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rabberoth · 4 months ago

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Guide to Safe and Consentual Worship

Anyone can participate in worship, and anyone can be worshipped. Demons, angels, voids, beings of light, celestial entities—basically the whole cosmic buffet of existence—can be worshipped. Deities, obviously. Gods, goddesses, you name it. The possibilities are endless.

But here’s the thing: there’s a proper way to do worship, and there’s a… let’s call it less-than-stellar way.

To keep things running smoothly and ensure the vibes stay healthy, I’ve put together a simple little guide. Nothing too fancy, just some tips to make sure the dynamics remain respectful.

1) Mutual Consent

Both parties must clearly discuss and agree on the terms of worship beforehand.

Outline what worship entails—whether it’s symbolic gestures, words of affirmation, or creative expressions—and ensure that both parties are comfortable.

2) Establishing Trust

It’s strongly recommended that worship only occur between individuals who have an established relationship or significant trust.

Clearly define what is acceptable and what isn’t for both parties.

Are there any topics or actions that should be avoided?

What are the roles and responsibilities of each party?

3) Avoiding Unhealthy Power Dynamics

Both parties are equals in the interaction. Worship is not about domination or subjugation but mutual respect.

The subject of worship must not use their perceived status to manipulate, demand, or exploit the worshipper.

Likewise, the worshipper must not idealize or pedestalize the subject of worship to an unhealthy degree.

4) Ensuring Emotional Safety

Communicate. Talk about boundaries, and check in with each other on how the dynamic feels.

Either party can revoke consent at any time.

5) Avoiding Parasociality

It’s difficult to maintain healthy boundaries with individuals you do not know or interact with directly!

Encourage any worship to occur in spaces where both parties can communicate openly to each other, rather than one-sided conversations and/or expressions.

Practical Tips for Worship

Avoid Material Demands: Worship should avoid including demands for gifts or other material items, as this can lead to exploitation.

Etiquette: Ensure respectful and kind interactions. The subject of worship should not tolerate harassment, and worshippers should not face excessive obligations they didn’t agree to.

Signs of Unhealthy Worship Dynamics

One party feels guilted or pressured to continue despite discomfort.

Emotional manipulation or demands for constant attention.

One-sided interactions where the worshipper idealizes the subject of worship without mutual acknowledgment.

If one person is putting in all the emotional effort while the other just takes (or demands), it’s time to check those boundaries.

Losing sight of the difference between a healthy connection and harmful dependency.

Unrealistic expectations.

Constant messages, demands for attention, or refusal to take “no” for an answer.

What to Do if You Spot These Signs

Communicate what’s making you uncomfortable.

If that doesn’t work, take a step back and reassess the situation.

If all else fails, walk away.

Remember, worship should be a source of positivity, growth, and connection—not stress, manipulation, or obligation. Worship isn’t bad, just make sure you’re doing it safely loves!

Stay safe out there!

#otherkin #alterhuman #alterhumanity #nonhuman #nonhuman community #deitykin #divinekin #actually divine #godkin #angelkin #actually angelic #actually demonic #demonkin #celestialkin #whoever else is typically worshipped #✧. ┊ ⁭rabberoth advice.

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venusentranced · 2 months ago

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GAME OVER

˖˙⟡ jungwon is mischievous and likes to make fun of you in front of your friends, but he'll never complain when you put him in his place. ⟢ genre/warnings: established relationship! f!dom!reader & sub!jungwon, sadomasochism, mild impact play, a bit of degradation and a lot of praise, edging & overstimulation as well as ruined orgasms, cumming untouched, use of a vibrator (jungwon receiving), hand job (m!receiving), oral (f!receiving), jungwon cries, use of "miss" and "ma'am" as titles as well as use "noona," after care! word count: aprox. 2.1k ‧₊˚ ┊i got two requests for punishing jungwon (1, 2, thank you both) so i combined them to created a more flushed out and compete fic instead of just drabbles, i hope you enjoy! this is proofread but pretty loosely <3

the living room erupts with a mixture of cheers and groans, the endless rotation of passing controllers around in a pass-and-play fashion as the large group cycles through playing against each other in mario kart. "you're terrible at this!" jungwon shouts, pushing you to the side as he gloats in his victory over you. "she's so bad at this!" the group laughs, light taps being placed on you as they share in the delight of your loss. you roll your eyes at your boyfriend, passing the controller along to someone else; your phone sits on your knee as you begin to tap through it in order to pass the time. "looking up how to play?" his voice full of a teasing tone, you pay him no mind and continue on with what you're doing. jungwon continues to poke fun at you for losing the round, only made worse when you lose again to jay instead. "maybe you are bad." jay joins in the fun of pulling your leg, and as the game night comes to a close, your patience wears thin with jungwon. the constant mockery of your ability to play whatever is on is nearing your last nerve; you're bad at mario kart. "do you spend all your free time playing this?" you're too good at mortal kombat. you take ahold of his arm and bring his ear close to you, "act right." you whisper, your tone clearly irritated, and in response, he mumbles out a short "sorry."

the bedroom is lit by the lamps on either side of the space, bathing your stature in a warm hue. "sorry doesn't cut it." your arms are folded over your chest as you stare down at the boy before you, his hands folded into his lap, and he doesn't retaliate against you. "i'm sorry, noona." he repeats, "you're going to prove you're sorry after you've learned your lesson." jungwon nods complacently to your demands; he'll do anything to prove he's sorry, even though you both know he'll do it again and you'll be right back here. you place your hand against his cheek, rubbing your thumb against his skin; he leans into your palm before you strike it against his face. "what do you say?" he blinks up at you, "yes, ma'am."

his body is flush against the mattress as you loom over him, your hair dangles in his face, and his breath is ragged. there's a quiet buzzing sound echoing throughout the room; the black silicone bullet is pressed harshly against his tip. the way you're looking at him makes him dizzy; he can handle the vibrator, but your sharp glare is what's making this hard. a choked moan leaves his mouth; his arms are held above his head—they're unbound, but they stay in place to show his obedience, his palms open and close on each other in an attempt to keep himself together. you leave a slap on his thigh when he starts to squirm, leading him to whimper, "you're so pathetic." and to that he whines. "you get off on me being mean to you, act out just so i'll be rough with you; you're not slick." he shakes his head fervently. "no, i promise." another slap lands on his thigh. "mm-mm.. i'm good; i'll be good." you slowly trail the bullet down and back up his length, "i'm sure you will." you tease.

jungwon is wet. he's leaking from his tip, managing to run all along his shaft and all across his tip. he doesn't know what's more arousing, the vibrator against him or the red handprints that litter his thighs. "i'm gonna cum." his voice is very quiet, almost as if he doesn't want you to hear him so he can get away with it. you remove the toy from him and watch as his face falls and his eyes screw shut at the loss of feeling. he doesn't say a word; he just waits for it to pass. you grab ahold of his face, "use your manners." your voice is laced with faux spite, but it works every time. pushing his face away and returning to tease him with the vibrations, immediately jungwon lets out a moan at the sensation. he always sounded so good when he was edged, brought close to the edge just to be brought away from it. he says something entirely incoherent, taking his hands from above him to wipe the sweat from his face and move his hair from his face.

jungwon is hot. his body is flushed a pale red; he wants to come so badly, but he knows he has to earn it first. "i'm close..." he warns, watching you intently as you stay perfectly still. "please," he begins. you say nothing, continuing to hold eye contact, and his face starts to slowly fall into an "o" shape as he rapidly approaches climax. right before he can dip off into bliss, you rip him back to reality. "i'm a good boy..." his eyes fill with tears that spill over almost as soon as they appear. "i'm sorry, miss." the pathetic cries that come out of him really show how sorry he is. unfortunately though, you're not done. "it's okay, baby," you soothe, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "i'll let you cum." his face lights up despite the tears that continue to roll down his cheeks; deep down, jungwon knows it's not that easy, but he can't think straight.

you use your hand instead, making your way up and down, a tight grip on his dick, and he can't wait to be told to cum. he's still crying, but the whimpers and moans drown out the faint cries. "please, can i cum?" he finally asks, "not yet, just hold on a little longer." your voice is so soft and smooth, it sounds like silk. jungwon nods and presses his head harder against the bed, closing his eyes to focus on anything and everything but the way your hand feels. the lewd sound of you stroking him with his own arousal is entirely distracting, but he keeps trying anyway. you squeeze harder and move a little fast, twisting your wrist as you go, and it doesn't take long before he really can't hold it. "please, i'm so close." you hum to him, allowing him to hit the rush of his orgasm, and at the first sign it was beginning, you tore your hand away. the sound he made was a mix of pleasure and complete disappointment, white streaks covering his torso and pouring down his head to pool on the skin below. he knows he deserves to have it ruined, but that doesn't mean he wanted it. his eyes spill tears. "you're doing such a good job," you tell him, pressing a kiss into his temple right as you take ahold of him again.

there's no missing the way he gasped; you would've thought he took in all the air the room had. you waste no time spreading his cum against him and begin to stroke him once again; closed-mouthed whimpers escape jungwon. it hurts, but he likes it; he likes the dull ache that runs through him when you torture him. "noona..." a whine rips through him. "hm?" he shakes his head, whispering out a rushed "nothing." the slick sound of your hand moving up and down mixed with jungwon's hushed writhing creates a pornographic scene. amidst the noise, you hear a faint fic as tears continue to run down his face; you wordlessly wipe his tears and place a chaste kiss against his lips. the pleasure of your fingertips makes jungwon feel fuzzy; he mewls aimlessly in an attempt to hold onto at least some sense of composure. he wants to please you.

"i'm going to cum," he murmurs, reaching out to take ahold of your wrist. his grip is weak, and it seems more like he's just trying to get more contact with you than anything else. "you can cum, love." your pace quickens, and the boy beneath you lets out a broken moan, his hand falling off you almost immediately. you push him through his orgasm; it's much weaker than it would usually be, but there is only ruining his previous orgasm to blame for that. tiny white beads dribble out of him, and the sounds he makes are obviously pained. "you did a good job, wonie, took your punishment well." you praised, kissing across his face to help soothe him. "thank you," he's so out of breath from crying, but he soaks up your affection like it's the sun. "do you have the energy to apologize to me?" jungwon nods quickly; he may be tired, but he's never too tired to return the favor of pleasure. "yes, please..."

your leg is careless placed atop his shoulder, your hands haphazardly tangled in his hair, and head is positioned perfectly between your thighs. he takes time and care to lick a wide strip up your entrance and attach his lips to your clit; a pleased sigh leaves you at the feeling. one of his hands wraps around your thigh with a loose grip, his mouth gently sucking at you, and tiny muffled hums vibrate against you. if you didn't know any better, you'd think jungwon gets more pleasure out of eating you out than you do. his tongue dips down to taste you shortly, his free hand snaking its way up to use both his hands and mouth. you pull on his hair roughly when you feel his finger push inside you; a stifled groan comes out of you but is quickly overtaken by an airy moan. "good boy," your praise is always appreciated and well received by him; his finger moves deftly while he laps messily at you; many people may find his messiness displeasing, but you find his eagerness all the more arousing. you're wet; if he wasn't licking you up and down, it would have created a wet patch on your sheets.

he looks up at you with a glimmer of excitement. the more you pull and tug at his hair, the sporadic moans and occasional whines fuel his need and desire to please you further. "am i doing good?" his break from sucking on you like candy is extremely short, but you could never be mad at him for seeking the praise he so desperately wants. "yes, keep going." your short response is not enough, so he adds another finger in retaliation. "just like that." although he has the inclination to go faster when you say that, he knows it's better to follow your guidance. the sinking feeling in your stomach is growing heavier by the moment, "be good, make me cum." your voice is quiet from the pleasure. there's a slight stop in his movements followed by a whine; before you can move to find out what happened, you're thrown back into the pit of pleasure by jungwon resuming as if nothing happened. he's quick to rebuild any of the tension you lost in the few seconds he was inattentive, and very soon after, the pressure built enough to snap. you yelp in surprise as the feeling overwhelms you, and you pull jungwon's hair so hard he's afraid you'll pull it out. "i came again... sorry." your laugh is simply a puff of air, and you pat his head in reassurance.

the rag is warm as it passes over jungwon's skin, beginning at his face to wipe off the remnants of your orgasm and sliding down his stomach and groin to clean off the dried mess he created on himself. "i love you, jungwon." your lips are fleeting against his, discarding the cloth to the dirty clothes. the bright smile you've always adored decorates his face; he pulls you into a hug with an "i love you too." you rub your finger against the nape of his neck, slowly pulling him back down to the mattress. your embrace is his favorite thing, the way you caress his head and face while he rests against your chest to the sound of your heartbeat. he's exhausted, teetering on the verge of sleep after the events of the night. "tired, my love?" your question is born out of your hidden plan to wash the sheets before bed. "yeah... beating you at almost every game is hard work." his teasing will never end; he will never learn his lesson. "you never learn." your proclamation is met with a shake of his head, "no i learned not to say that around others." as much as you'd love to argue with him, he is right, and the way his voice drags with sleep tells you he doesn't have the energy to put up any more of a fight. "i love you, noona." jungwon's words make you hold him a little tighter and your heart flutter a little more.

#sub!idol #sub!enhypen #sub enhypen #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen x reader #sub jungwon #sub!jungwon #jungwon x reader #jungwon hard thoughts #jungwon hard hours #jungwon smut

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w1w2 · 4 months ago

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Bored

Part 1 | Part 2 - But I'm Not the One To Keep | Part 3

Ningning x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ca. 9,5k

Synopsis: Ningning, a charismatic heartbreaker known for her fleeting romances, finds herself unprepared for the depth of her feelings when she meets Y/N.

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

♡ Enjoy! ♡

Ningning dorm room was dim, illuminated only by the faint, cold glow of laptop screen. The cursor blinked on a blank document like a silent taunt, its rhythmic flicker the only movement in the otherwise still room. Papers and notebooks were strewn across her desk in disarray, remnants of unfinished assignments she couldn’t muster the energy to complete. The guitar she usually turned to for solace leaned against the desk, its polished surface catching the faint light, but tonight, even it felt like a stranger to her.

The vibrant personality of her space, walls adorned with colorful posters of her favorite artists and shelves crammed with knick-knacks collected over the years seemed muted, almost mocking in its cheerfulness. The once comforting clutter felt stifling, closing in on her like a weight she couldn’t shake.

Ningning sat cross legged on her bed, her comforter twisted into a heap beside her. She leaned back against the headboard, her head tipped slightly upward as if searching for answers in the shadowed ceiling. Her hands dragged through her hair, fingers catching on tangles she hadn’t bothered to comb out, before falling limply to her lap.

The room was silent except for the occasional hum of a passing car outside her window, but inside her mind, it was deafening. The echo of her own voice reverberated with cruel clarity

"You knew what this was, Y/N. Don’t act like I promised you forever."

Her words played on an endless loop, hollow and sharp, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. She could still see the exact moment they landed, as if watching a replay in slow motion. The way Y/N’s expression had faltered, those warm, expressive eyes dimming with hurt, the way her shoulders had dropped, as if burdened by a weight too heavy to carry.

Ningning groaned, the sound raw and broken as it slipped from her lips. She squeezed her eyes shut, as though she could will the memory away, but it only grew sharper in the darkness. The image of Y/N lingered, unrelenting.

She saw her on the rooftop again, bathed in starlight, the words spilling out of her with hesitant courage

"I think... I’m starting to fall for you."

The vulnerability in Y/N’s voice had terrified Ningning. It had been too much, too real, too honest. Her instinct had been to retreat, to guard herself against the kind of raw emotion that threatened to unravel her carefully constructed facade. Vulnerability was dangerous. It asked too much and gave too little in return.

But Ningning couldn’t stop seeing Y/N’s face, that fragile hope that had been shattered. She let out a shaky breath, her chest tightening as if caught in a vice. Why had she said those things? Why had she hurt the one person who made her feel like she was worth more than the labels she carried?

Her gaze darted to her phone, lying face down on the nightstand. The urge to pick it up, to type out an apology, burned in her chest, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Her fingers twitched, as if sensing the weight of the words she could never take back.

Instead, she reached for her guitar, but her hand faltered halfway. What good would it do? She already knew the melodies wouldn’t soothe her tonight. She felt hollow, as if every note she played would ring false.

She slumped forward, her elbows resting on her knees, her head cradled in her hands. The stillness of the room seemed to press against her, amplifying the ache in her chest. Her own thoughts suffocated her, circling back to Y/N over and over again. Her laughter, her steady presence, her way of making Ningning feel seen without asking for anything in return.

She had let that go.

Now, left alone in the quiet of her room, Ningning couldn’t outrun the truth. The silence amplified the very feelings she was trying to suppress, and the walls of her sanctuary felt less like a haven and more like a prison.

She whispered into the stillness, her voice trembling with the weight of her regret “What the hell have I done?”

Her mind betrayed her, pulling her back to that first, vivid memory of Y/N. It had been an ordinary afternoon, the kind Ningning had spent a hundred times before flitting through the campus café between classes, basking in the attention of passing smiles and casual greetings. But this time had been different.

Ningning had stopped short as her gaze landed on the girl sitting by the window, her head bowed over a notebook. The late afternoon sunlight streamed through the glass, wrapping around her like a halo. Strands of her hair, slightly tousled, caught the golden light, and her brow furrowed in concentration gave her an air of quiet determination that Ningning found unexpectedly captivating.

Her breath hitched, her casual confidence faltering for the first time in years. There was a magnetism about Y/N, an unspoken aura that drew Ningning closer without effort. She found herself staring, caught between curiosity and an unfamiliar sense of longing. It wasn’t just Y/N’s appearance, though Ningning would later recall with a smile how beautiful she’d looked in that moment, but the way she seemed completely at ease, oblivious to the bustling café around her.

Ningning had hesitated for a fleeting second, something she never did, before making her way over and sliding into the seat across from Y/N. She flashed her most confident smile, the one that usually won over even the most reserved of hearts. “Mind if I join you?” she had asked, her voice light and playful.

Y/N had blinked up at her, startled, her pen pausing mid stroke. There was no wide-eyed awe, no immediate disarming smile in response. Instead, Y/N’s gaze was polite but wary, a quiet guardedness that intrigued Ningning. It was a challenge, one she couldn’t resist.

In the weeks that followed, Ningning had sought out opportunities to be near her. She told herself it was casual curiosity at first, something about Y/N’s calm demeanor and dry wit made her stand out. But the truth was something far more consuming. Ningning found herself watching for Y/N in the library, lingering outside engineering labs with excuses that felt increasingly flimsy.

The little things.

That’s what had undone her.

It was the way Y/N’s laugh bubbled up, completely unrestrained, when Ningning teased her about her “intimidating” thermos of coffee. It wasn’t a soft chuckle or a polite giggle, it was full-bodied, genuine, and infectious, the kind of laugh that made Ningning feel like she’d accomplished something extraordinary just by being the cause of it.

It was the way Y/N scrunched her nose when concentrating on her engineering projects, her lips pursing in a way that Ningning found inexplicably endearing. It made her want to sit closer, to nudge Y/N’s elbow and ask about whatever brilliant thing she was working on, just to see that focus shift to her for a moment.

And it was the way Y/N always seemed to have an extra cup of coffee ready when Ningning showed up unannounced, a playful smirk tugging at her lips as she handed it over. “Figured you’d need this,” she’d say, and Ningning’s heart would stutter at the casual care in her voice.

Ningning had never felt seen like that before, not in a way that mattered.

The rooftop.

Her heart clenched as she thought of that night, the memory vivid and bittersweet. The stars had been scattered across the sky like glittering promises, but all Ningning had been able to focus on was Y/N. She had looked radiant, her eyes reflecting the faint glow of the city lights below.

Ningning had joked about constellations, trying to lighten the moment, but the air between them had grown heavy with something unspoken. And then Y/N had turned to her, her voice trembling as she said, “I think... I’m starting to fall for you.”

The words had struck Ningning like a lightning bolt, leaving her breathless. For a moment, she had been frozen, caught between the overwhelming rush of emotions surging through her and the fear she could never quite outrun.

When she had leaned in to kiss Y/N, it hadn’t been an impulsive act, it had been deliberate, tender, and charged with all the feelings Ningning didn’t know how to put into words. The softness of Y/N’s lips, the warmth of her touch, the way she had leaned into Ningning like she belonged there, it was perfect in a way that made Ningning’s chest ache.

But perfection had its price, and Ningning knew all too well what it felt like to fall short. She had seen it in the faces of her past relationships, the disappointment that flickered in their eyes when they realized she couldn’t give them the love they wanted, the hurt when her walls refused to come down, the longing in their voices as they asked her why she couldn’t just stay.

She had tried, once or twice, to explain it, but the words always failed her. How could she describe the way love seemed to suffocate her the moment it became too real? How the very idea of being someone’s everything made her chest tighten and her instincts scream to run?

The cycle had become predictable. She would charm her way into someone’s life, bask in the glow of their affection, and then pull away the moment things grew serious. She had convinced herself it was better this way, better to leave before she could cause too much damage, better to slip away before they saw the cracks in her.

So when Y/N had opened her heart, when she had stood under the stars and said those words with such trembling honesty, Ningning had panicked. The vulnerability in Y/N’s voice had terrified her, made her feel exposed in a way she hadn’t thought possible.

Her instinct had taken over. She had pushed Y/N away, her words sharp and cutting, designed to hurt. To end things before they could begin. “You knew what this was, Y/N. Don’t act like I promised you forever.”

Now, in the stillness of her dorm room, those words echoed like a curse, each syllable clawing at her chest.

“Better to hurt her now,” she muttered bitterly, her voice cracking as she spoke the lie aloud, “than later.”

The words felt like ash on her tongue, bitter and hollow. No matter how many times she repeated them, they failed to convince her. She knew she had done it to protect herself, to shield her heart from the inevitability of failure. But instead of finding relief, she had only magnified the ache in her chest.

The memory of Y/N’s face as she walked away haunted her. That mix of hurt and disbelief, the way her voice had faltered as she tried to ask Ningning why. Y/N had deserved an explanation, deserved more than Ningning’s cowardice, but Ningning hadn’t known how to give it.

And now it was too late.

Ningning’s whispered question What the hell have I done? hung in the suffocating stillness of her dorm room, unanswered. She sat there for what felt like hours, her mind replaying the same memories, the same regrets, until her phone buzzed again.

Her gaze flickered to the screen, where Aeri’s name lit up with a simple message “Studio. Now. You can’t avoid this forever.”

Ningning sighed, dragging herself off the bed. Her limbs felt heavy, her chest tighter with every step she took to gather her things. Avoidance wasn’t an option tonight, and deep down, she knew she couldn’t keep running from her feelings. If she couldn’t face Y/N, maybe she could at least pour everything into a song.

Grabbing her guitar, she left the room, her mind clouded with doubts and melodies that refused to settle.

The studio was bathed in the soft, artificial glow of overhead lights, casting long shadows across the soundproofed walls. The padded panels seemed to absorb every sound, muting the outside world and leaving only the faint hum of equipment and the low crackle of static from the speakers. It was a space Ningning usually loved, a sanctuary where she could lose herself in the rhythm of creation.

But tonight, the familiar comfort was absent, replaced by a weight she couldn’t shake.

She sat hunched over her guitar, her posture unusually tense, her fingers idly plucking a melody that had been haunting her for days. The notes were soft, tentative, like they were afraid to fully form. The polished wood of the guitar felt smooth under her fingertips, but instead of grounding her, it only made her feel more adrift.

Aeri was at the control panel, her sharp focus cutting through the room’s lethargy. She twisted a knob with practiced ease, muttering to herself about reverb and equalization. The glow of the monitor reflected off her glasses, and every so often, she glanced at Ningning, her brow furrowing with quiet concern.

Jimin was sprawled on the couch in the corner, her phone screen illuminating her face as she scrolled lazily. Every few minutes, she would let out a soft snort or chuckle, likely at some meme or post that caught her attention. The casual ease with which she lounged felt at odds with the tension radiating from Ningning.

The room buzzed with life, yet Ningning felt miles away. The low hum of the equipment, the faint static breaking through the speakers, even the comforting presence of her friends none of it could drown out the storm in her head.

“Earth to Ning,” Aeri’s voice cut through the haze, jolting her out of her thoughts. Aeri swiveled her chair around to face her, arms crossed. “You gonna sing, or are we just gonna stare at each other all night?”

Ningning blinked, her fingers faltering over the strings. She forced a smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Just... give me a minute.”

Her voice sounded distant even to her, like it belonged to someone else. She gripped the neck of her guitar a little tighter, as if the familiar weight might anchor her in the present.

Aeri exchanged a glance with Jimin, who set her phone down with a small sigh. “You’ve been like this for days,” Jimin said, her tone casual but her gaze sharp. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Ningning replied too quickly, the word slipping out like a reflex. She cleared her throat and tried to soften her tone. “I’m just tired. Long week, you know?”

Jimin raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. Instead, she leaned back, kicking her feet up on the arm of the couch. “Well, whatever it is, you’d better get it out before we start recording. No half-assed vocals, okay?”

Aeri nodded, her expression softening. “Yeah. We’re not rushing this, Ning. If you need more time—”

“No,” Ningning interrupted, her voice firm but strained. “I’m fine. Let’s just get this over with.”

Aeri hesitated for a moment before turning back to the control panel. Jimin gave a small shrug, picking up her phone again, but Ningning could feel their concern lingering in the air like an unspoken question.

She closed her eyes, gripping her guitar tighter as the melody echoed in her head. It was the only thing keeping her tethered, the one piece of her chaos that made any sense. But even as she prepared to sing, a part of her wondered if she was ready to face the emotions waiting on the other side of the music.

Her heart wasn’t in it, and they all knew it.

When she finally stepped into the recording booth, the familiar weight of the headphones pressed against her ears. The microphone stood before her, stark and unyielding, like a confessional waiting to unearth her deepest truths. She adjusted the mic stand slightly, stalling for time as the first chords of Bored began to play in her headphones.

Her fingers itched with the ghost of her guitar, but it wasn’t the melody she was struggling with, it was the lyrics. Every word felt like an admission, a raw fragment of herself laid bare for the world to see.

She closed her eyes, letting the music wash over her, and the memories followed, relentless and vivid.

It had been a warm afternoon, one of those rare, golden days where everything felt easy. She remembered sitting on the campus lawn with Y/N, the hum of distant conversations mingling with the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. Y/N had been bent over her notebook, her pen moving in slow, thoughtful strokes.

Ningning had plucked a small flower from the grass, a delicate splash of color against the green, and leaned forward with a grin. “Hold still,” she had said, tucking it carefully behind Y/N’s ear. The sunlight had caught in Y/N’s hair, her startled laugh soft and musical, and for a moment, Ningning had felt something unfamiliar bloom in her chest.

That laugh, that moment, it was still there, woven into the fabric of her song.

Her voice trembled slightly as she sang the opening lines.

“I’m so pretty in your head, boy, yeah Picking flowers, put ’em right behind my ear...”

The lyrics twisted the truth, but that was easier than admitting the vulnerability of the original memory. She poured her longing into each word, shaping them into a melody that felt bittersweet, like a smile hiding an ache.

Her voice grew stronger as she reached the chorus.

“Takin’ up a good rush, don’t try to fight it Paradise on Venus in your eyes...”

Y/N’s eyes flashed in her mind, bright and filled with something Ningning had never let herself name. The rooftop kiss followed, as it always did. She could still feel the warmth of Y/N’s hand resting lightly on hers, the weight of her gaze as she had said, “I think... I’m starting to fall for you.”

The words had sent a jolt through Ningning’s heart, a mix of exhilaration and panic that she hadn’t been able to untangle. And then she had ruined it.

Her voice faltered slightly, the weight of her regret pressing down like a physical force.

“Ning,” Aeri’s voice came through the headphones, soft but firm. “You’re doing great. Let’s take it from the top.”

Ningning nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. She started again, pushing through the chorus and into the second verse, her voice carrying all the raw emotion she couldn’t bring herself to say out loud.

“Turning your hellos into goodbyes, I always come in hardcore...”

The words felt like a knife turning in her chest. She had turned Y/N’s soft hellos, her open heart, into something brittle and broken. She had pushed Y/N away, convinced it was for the best, but now all she could do was relive the moments they’d shared, clinging to them like lifelines in the emptiness.

She poured it all into the song, every ounce of guilt, every flicker of longing, every unspoken apology. When the final note faded, the silence that followed was deafening.

Aeri’s voice broke through again, careful and measured. “That was... intense. You okay, Ning?”

Ningning pulled the headphones off and set them down with trembling hands. “Yeah,” she lied, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m fine.”

But as she stepped out of the booth, her chest felt hollow, and the ache that had driven her to create this song remained as sharp as ever.

Hours later, the studio was eerily quiet, save for the faint hum of the equipment and the soft clatter of Aeri’s keyboard. The raw recording of Bored played through the speakers for what felt like the hundredth time, every note polished, every vocal layer perfected.

Ningning sat slumped in a chair, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her fingers tapped an uneven rhythm against her arm, the only outward sign of the storm brewing inside her. She stared at the monitor as if it held some answer she hadn’t yet found.

“Okay,” Aeri said, leaning back in her chair with a satisfied sigh. “That’s it. It’s done.”

Jimin, who had been dozing on the couch, cracked an eye open and gave a lazy thumbs up. “Sounds killer. People are gonna eat this up.”

Ningning nodded faintly, but the weight in her chest didn’t lift. The song was done, polished to perfection, yet it didn’t feel like a triumph. If anything, it felt like a confession she wasn’t ready for the world to hear.

Aeri turned to her, her voice softer now. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Ningning replied automatically, though her voice wavered. She cleared her throat and forced a weak smile. “Just tired.”

Aeri didn’t press further, but the look she gave Ningning lingered, a mix of concern and something unreadable.

They listened to the track one last time, the haunting melody filling the studio. Ningning felt every word as if she were singing them again, the emotions sharper than before. When the final note faded, she let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding.

“It’s good,” she said quietly, more to herself than anyone else.

“It’s better than good,” Jimin said, sitting up and stretching. “This is the kind of song people are gonna remember.”

But as Ningning packed up her guitar and prepared to leave, all she could think was how much she wished she didn’t have to remember.

The song dropped three days later, and the reaction was immediate.

By the time Ningning woke up that morning, her phone was already buzzing with notifications. Social media was flooded with posts about Bored, clips of the song, glowing reviews, and endless comments tagging her name.

“@_imnotningning just gave us the ultimate heartbreaker anthem.” “Why does Bored sound so good and so savage at the same time?” “This song... wow. Ningning really said, ‘I’ll break your heart and make it a hit.’”

Jimin sent a screenshot of the streaming numbers to their group chat with a series of fire emojis “We’re blowing up. Told you.”

Ningning sat on the edge of her bed, scrolling through the messages and comments, her expression unreadable. Normally, she would have basked in the attention, maybe even posted a playful selfie with a “thank you” caption. But today, the praise felt hollow.

Her classmates were talking about the song too. Everywhere she went, cafés, hallways, even the library, someone was playing it. The haunting melody seemed to follow her, the lyrics spilling from speakers and headphones like they were taunting her.

She walked past a group of students sitting on the quad, their conversation carrying over to her ears.

“Did you hear Bored yet? It’s so good. Ningning really nailed the whole ‘heartbreaker’ vibe.” “Yeah, but like... do you think it’s just a song, or is she actually like that?”

She quickened her pace, her chest tightening.

Later that day, she sat in a corner of the café, her hood pulled low over her face. She watched from the shadows as a group of students queued up at the counter, one of them humming the chorus under their breath.

“Takin’ up a good rush, don’t try to fight it...”

Her stomach churned. They were celebrating the song, turning it into something bigger than it was ever meant to be. They didn’t know it wasn’t just a catchy tune, it was her. Her regret, her longing, her everything, laid bare for the world to dissect.

Jimin sent another text “People are calling this your best work yet. You okay?”

Ningning stared at the message for a long moment before typing a reply “Yeah. Just a lot to process.”

She didn’t hit send. Instead, she set the phone down and stared out the window, watching the world move on without her.

The song was a success. She should have been happy. But all she felt was the hollow ache that had been with her since the night she’d walked away from Y/N.

The praise was loud, but the silence in her heart was louder.

It was late when Ningning found herself wandering the campus, the cool night air brushing against her skin. The paths were quiet, lined with the faint glow of streetlights, their soft hum filling the silence. She had hoped the walk would clear her head, but instead, it only made the ache in her chest sharper.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, a notification about Bored. It was another tag, another comment praising her, another reminder of the song’s success. She didn’t even bother looking at it.

Her steps slowed as she approached the bench near the quad, tucked beneath an old oak tree. The sight of it stopped her cold. She hadn’t intended to come here, but her feet had carried her anyway, as if drawn by memory.

She could still picture Y/N sitting there, her face illuminated by the dappled sunlight filtering through the branches. Ningning had spent countless afternoons on that bench with her, sharing jokes, snacks, and moments of quiet that had felt like their own little world.

But now the bench was empty, and the silence around it felt deafening.

Ningning sank down onto the worn wood, the weight of her regret pressing her shoulders forward. She stared at the ground, her thoughts spinning in endless circles.

This is what you wanted, she told herself. You pushed her away. You said it was better this way.

But the words felt hollow, even in her mind. Every memory of Y/N burned brighter against the darkness of her guilt. She thought of Y/N’s laughter, the way it had filled the spaces between them, making everything seem lighter. She thought of the way Y/N had looked at her, her gaze steady and full of quiet affection.

And she thought of that night on the rooftop, the way Y/N’s voice had trembled as she confessed, “I think... I’m starting to fall for you.”

Ningning’s chest tightened, her hands curling into fists on her lap. She had been terrified in that moment, so scared of falling short that she had lashed out. She had thought she was protecting them both by ending it, but now it felt like she had only destroyed the best thing she’d ever had.

The quad was still, but her mind was anything but. Every line of Bored replayed in her head, the lyrics that had once felt like armor now cutting her like glass.

“Love ’til the end of the road, then I tend to get bored...”

The words had been true when she wrote them. At least, she had believed they were true. But now, sitting here alone, she realized how wrong she’d been. She wasn’t bored. She wasn’t indifferent. She was miserable.

Her hand drifted to her pocket, pulling out her phone. Her thumb hovered over Y/N’s name in her contacts. The urge to call, to apologize, to beg for another chance burned in her chest.

But what could she even say? I’m sorry for being a coward. I’m sorry for not seeing what I had until it was too late.

She opened her messages anyway, scrolling aimlessly through old chats. Y/N’s name sat near the top of her contacts, untouched since the day she had ended things. There was no new message waiting, no unread text to give her a sliver of hope.

She didn’t need to open their conversation to remember how it ended. She had ended it in person, face to face.

She remembered Y/N standing in front of her on the courtyard bench where they’d often met between classes, her arms crossed, her expression guarded yet hopeful. The question had come softly, without accusation:

“Ning, is something wrong? You’ve been... distant.”

Ningning had tried to shrug it off, playing the part of someone too preoccupied to care. “I’ve just been busy,” she’d said, her voice clipped.

But Y/N hadn’t let it go. “You’re canceling plans, avoiding me. Did I do something wrong?”

The crack in Y/N’s voice had nearly undone her, but Ningning had held firm. She had to.

“It’s not about you,” Ningning had replied after a long pause, avoiding Y/N’s gaze. “I just... I don’t think I can give you what you want.”

Y/N’s face had fallen, confusion and hurt flashing across her features. “What does that mean?”

Ningning had stood abruptly, running a hand through her hair as though she could smooth out the knots tightening in her chest. “It means you’re getting too attached,” she’d snapped, her voice rising defensively. “I didn’t sign up for this, Y/N. I’m not looking for something serious.”

Even now, sitting alone in the cold glow of the campus streetlights, she could still see the look on Y/N’s face as her words landed—the shock, the disbelief, and the crushing realization that followed.

Y/N had stood there, her shoulders stiff and her chin trembling, holding back tears. “You could have told me that from the start,” she’d said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Instead of letting me believe this meant something.”

Ningning had meant to respond, maybe even apologize, but the words had refused to come. All she could manage was a hollow echo of the line she had clung to like a shield: “You knew what this was, Y/N. Don’t act like I promised you forever.”

The memory struck Ningning like a blow, and she doubled over on the bench, her head in her hands.

Now, sitting alone on the bench, Ningning could still see the scene as clearly as if it were happening all over again. She could still feel the lump in her throat, the gnawing ache in her chest as she had watched Y/N leave, knowing she had just let go of something irreplaceable.

Her phone slipped from her hands, landing softly on the bench beside her. She pressed her palms to her face, her breathing shaky as tears threatened to spill.

“I miss you,” she whispered, the words breaking like a confession in the quiet night. “God, I miss you so much.”

The silence around her offered no comfort, only amplifying the emptiness she felt. She had tried to move on, tried to channel her feelings into the song, but it hadn’t worked.

The song was everywhere, on playlists, in cafés, on the lips of people she passed, but none of it mattered. Its success felt meaningless without Y/N.

The worst part was knowing she had done this to herself. She had pushed Y/N away, convinced it was the right thing to do, but now she wasn’t sure she even knew how to fix it.

As the first tear slipped down her cheek, Ningning let herself cry. For the first time since their fight, she didn’t try to push the feelings away. She let herself feel the weight of it, the unbearable ache of missing someone who had once felt like home.

The world around her blurred, the quiet hum of the campus fading as her emotions overwhelmed her. She didn’t know how long she sat there, her tears soaking into her sleeves, but for the first time in weeks, she stopped pretending she was okay.

The song hadn’t been meant for the world, it had been meant for herself. She had written it thinking that putting her feelings into words, into melodies, would help her let go of them. She had hoped it would be an exorcism, a way to purge the ache in her chest and move on.

But now, as she sat alone on that bench, she saw how wrong she had been. The song hadn’t taken the feelings away. It had only magnified them. Every lyric, every melody, was her running from the truth.

And she wondered if Y/N, wherever she was, had heard it, and if she’d felt even a fraction of the emotions Ningning had tried to hide.

The song’s lyrics again played in her mind as she rose from the bench, the melody haunting her steps as she made her way back toward the dorms. Her feet felt heavy, each step a reminder of the ache in her chest that refused to fade.

She barely slept that night, her thoughts a relentless spiral of memories and regrets. By the time her alarm blared the next morning, Ningning felt like she’d been awake for hours, her body sluggish as she forced herself to get ready for the day.

Ningning burst through the doors of the lecture hall, her bag half zipped and her papers spilling onto the floor. A few heads turned her way, some with mild annoyance, as she scrambled to gather her belongings.

“Sorry,” she mumbled under her breath, avoiding eye contact as she hurried to an empty seat in the back. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, but her mind was already elsewhere.

She pulled out a notebook and pen, but her hand stilled after the first few lines of the professor’s lecture. The words on the board blurred, her thoughts drifting to Y/N. She imagined the way Y/N used to say her name, soft and teasing, her voice carrying a warmth that Ningning hadn’t appreciated enough at the time.

Her pen began to move across the page, not writing notes but doodling aimless shapes in the margins. Flowers, stars, anything to distract herself. But even then, her mind betrayed her, filling the empty space with memories of Y/N’s smile, the way it lit up her whole face when she laughed.

A sharp cough snapped Ningning back to the present. She glanced up to find the professor’s eyes briefly meeting hers before moving on. Heat flushed her face again, and she quickly closed her notebook, pretending to follow along.

The class ended, and Ningning shoved her things into her bag, barely paying attention as she bumped into a few classmates on her way out. The hallway buzzed with chatter, the usual post-lecture hum of voices, but Ningning moved through it like a ghost, her mind clouded with thoughts she couldn’t shake.

She stepped into the quad, hoping for a moment of calm in the open air. The sun was warm on her skin, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the trees lining the path. For a brief second, she allowed herself to breathe.

And then she saw her.

Y/N sat under the large oak tree near the center of the quad, her back resting against the trunk. Chaewon and Yunjin flanked her, laughing at something Yunjin had just said. Y/N was laughing too, her head tilted back, the sound light and infectious.

Ningning froze mid step, her heart plummeting into her stomach. It felt like the air had been knocked out of her lungs.

She hadn’t seen Y/N in weeks, not up close like this. The sight of her, her radiant smile, the way her hair caught the sunlight, was almost too much to bear. Y/N looked... happy. And it wasn’t Ningning who had put that smile on her face.

Her first instinct was to approach her, to cross the quad and find a way to talk. But before she could take a step, her doubts crept in. What would she even say? I miss you? I’m sorry? I didn’t mean any of it?

She couldn’t do it.

Before Y/N could notice her, Ningning ducked behind the nearest tree, pressing her back against the rough bark. She closed her eyes, willing her racing heart to slow down. The urge to look again was unbearable, but she forced herself to stay hidden.

The sound of Y/N’s laughter drifted to her, faint but unmistakable. Ningning peeked around the tree, just for a moment, and her chest tightened at the sight. Y/N was leaning forward slightly, her hand brushing against Chaewon’s as she spoke, her expression animated.

Jealousy twisted in Ningning’s gut, sharp and unforgiving. She hated herself for feeling it, knowing she had no right. Y/N had every reason to move on, to surround herself with people who wouldn’t push her away.

But the thought of Y/N finding happiness without her was unbearable.

Ningning bit her lip, her hands curling into fists at her sides. She stayed hidden until Y/N and her friends gathered their things and walked away, their laughter fading into the distance. Only then did Ningning step out from behind the tree, her legs trembling as she continued toward her next class.

Later, Ningning sat at a corner table in the café, her tray untouched in front of her. The low hum of conversations filled the air, punctuated by the clinking of mugs and the hiss of the espresso machine. Aeri and Minjeong sat across from her, animatedly discussing their latest group project, but their words barely registered.

Ningning stared down at her plate, her fork idly pushing a piece of lettuce back and forth. Her stomach felt hollow, but the thought of eating made her nauseous.

“Ning,” Minjeong said, her tone tinged with concern. “Are you even listening?”

Ningning blinked, looking up as if startled out of a dream. “What?”

Minjeong exchanged a glance with Aeri before leaning forward. “I asked if you’re okay. You’ve been... off lately.”

“I’m fine,” Ningning said quickly, her voice tight. She picked up her fork and stabbed at her salad, hoping it would make her look convincing. “Just tired, that’s all.”

Minjeong frowned, her skepticism clear. “You’ve been tired for weeks. Is something going on?”

Aeri nudged Minjeong with her elbow, cutting her off. “Let it go. She’ll talk when she’s ready.”

Ningning felt a pang of guilt as Minjeong sat back, muttering under her breath. She knew her friends were trying to help, but the thought of explaining everything, the fight, the regret, the way she couldn’t stop thinking about Y/N, was unbearable.

“I’m sorry,” Ningning mumbled, her eyes fixed on her tray. “I’m just... distracted. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Aeri tilted her head, studying Ningning with a sharpness that made her squirm. “You sure that’s all it is?”

Ningning forced a smile, though it felt like her face might crack under the strain. “Yeah. Promise.”

Aeri didn’t look convinced, but she let it go, turning the conversation back to Minjeong. Ningning nodded along absently as they talked, her gaze drifting to the phone sitting on the edge of the table.

Y/N’s contact sat pinned at the top of her messages now. Ningning’s chest tightened as she stared at it, her fingers itching to pick it up, to type something, anything.

But what could she say that would make a difference?

She pulled her hand back, letting the phone sit untouched. The noise of the café pressed in around her, but Ningning felt utterly alone.

Later Ningning left feeling more exhausted than ever, the weight of her friends’ unspoken concerns lingering in the pit of her stomach. She had promised herself that she’d keep it together, but lately, even the smallest interactions felt like a struggle.

The next few days passed in a haze. Her routines blurred together, classes she barely paid attention to, meals she didn’t taste, music sessions that felt hollow. The song’s success continued to ripple through campus, but Ningning barely acknowledged it. The praise that had once thrilled her now felt meaningless.

Her friends noticed. Of course, they noticed.

So when Aeri texted her to meet up for coffee with Minjeong and Jimin, Ningning felt a flicker of apprehension. She knew they would ask questions. They always did. And she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep dodging them.

By the time she reached the agreed place, she was running late, her mind already spinning excuses.

The café was quiet, the midday rush long gone. The faint hum of soft jazz played over the speakers, mingling with the rhythmic clink of cups and the occasional muted laugh from a nearby table. The warm scent of coffee and pastries filled the air, but for Ningning, the atmosphere felt anything but comforting.

Aeri, Minjeong, and Jimin sat at a corner table by the window, their drinks half-finished, their conversation subdued. They weren’t laughing, weren’t chatting like they usually did. Instead, their focus was fixed on the door, their expressions tight with concern.

When Ningning finally walked in, their gazes snapped toward her in unison. She hesitated in the doorway, her heart sinking as she caught the looks they exchanged. This wasn’t going to be a casual hangout; she could feel it already.

Sliding into the seat across from them, Ningning dropped her bag onto the floor with a heavy thud. “Sorry,” she muttered, keeping her eyes on the table. “Lost track of time.”

Aeri leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms as she studied Ningning with a raised eyebrow. “You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

Ningning’s hand shot up to her face instinctively, as if she could smooth away the evidence of her exhaustion. “I’m fine,” she said quickly, forcing a weak smile. “Just a lot on my plate right now.”

“Yeah, we can tell,” Jimin said dryly, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the table. “Look, we’ve been giving you space because we figured you’d come to us when you were ready, but you’re not getting better. You’re getting worse.”

Minjeong nodded, her voice softer but no less insistent. “We’re worried about you, Ning. You’ve been... off for weeks now.”

Ningning let out a short, strained laugh, her fingers toying with the edge of her sleeve. “What, do I need an intervention now? Relax, I’m fine. Just tired.”

The words felt hollow even as she said them, and judging by the silence that followed, they hadn’t convinced anyone.

Aeri leaned forward, her expression unusually serious. Her voice was quiet, but it cut through the tension like a blade. “You’re not fine, and we’re done pretending you are. Talk to us.”

Ningning shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her hands gripping the edge of the table. She could feel their eyes on her, the weight of their concern pressing down like a lead blanket.

“It’s nothing,” she said weakly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Just... stuff. I’ll figure it out.”

Minjeong frowned, leaning closer. “Does this have anything to do with Y/N?”

The question hit like a lightning strike. Ningning froze, her breath catching in her throat. She didn’t answer right away, but her reaction was enough.

Jimin leaned back in her chair, her arms crossed and her tone pointed. “You haven’t been the same since you broke things off with her. Have you even tried reaching out?”

Ningning’s fingers curled into fists in her lap, her jaw tightening. “It’s better this way,” she muttered, avoiding their gazes.

“Better for who?” Aeri asked, her tone sharp but not unkind.

“For her,” Ningning snapped, her voice cracking slightly. She swallowed hard, lowering her gaze. “I’m doing what’s best for her. She deserves better than me.”

Minjeong’s voice softened, her eyes searching Ningning’s face. “Is that really how you feel? Or is that just what you’re telling yourself?”

The question hung in the air, and Ningning struggled to find a response. She could feel the walls she had built around herself beginning to crumble under the weight of their words.

Jimin’s gaze was steady, her tone matter of fact as she broke the silence. “You’re miserable, Ning. Don’t act like you’re not.”

“I’m fine,” Ningning shot back, her voice rising slightly.

“No, you’re not,” Aeri said firmly, leaning forward. “You’re barely holding it together, and it’s not just affecting you. It’s affecting all of us. We’re worried about you, Ning. Whatever you’re carrying, it’s too much for you to handle alone.”

Ningning’s fingers curled around the edge of the table, her knuckles white. “It’s not your problem,” she muttered, her voice sharp and defensive.

“It is when we care about you,” Minjeong said softly. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

Jimin tilted her head, her voice cutting through Ningning’s resistance. “You think pushing everyone away is helping? You think hiding from how you feel is going to make it go away?”

“It’s not that simple!” Ningning snapped, her voice trembling. “You don’t understand.”

“Then make us understand,” Aeri said, her voice softer now but still resolute. “We’re here, Ning. Stop running and talk to us.”

Ningning’s breath hitched, her chest tightening as the weight of their concern pressed down on her. She looked at each of them in turn, their faces filled with quiet determination, and for the first time, she felt the walls she had built start to give way.

Her hands trembled as she finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “I hurt her.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with regret. Ningning blinked rapidly, her vision blurring as tears welled up in her eyes. “I hurt her, and I can’t take it back. I pushed her away because I thought it was the right thing to do, but... but now, all I can think about is how much I messed up.”

Minjeong reached across the table, her hand brushing lightly against Ningning’s arm. “You made a mistake,” she said gently. “That doesn’t mean it’s the end.”

Ningning shook her head, her voice breaking. “You don’t get it. I’m the one who ruined everything. She trusted me, and I... I threw it all away because I was scared. Scared of screwing it up, scared of letting her get too close.”

Jimin leaned back, her voice softer now but still firm. “So instead of letting her in, you broke it off? That’s not protecting her, Ning. That’s protecting yourself.”

The words cut deep, and Ningning’s defenses crumbled completely. A tear slipped down her cheek, and she quickly swiped it away, but the floodgates had opened.

“She’s better off without me,” Ningning whispered, her voice trembling. “I can’t give her what she needs. I’ll just mess it up again, and I can’t... I can’t put her through that.”

Aeri spoke then, her tone steady but kind. “You’re not giving her a choice, Ning. You decided for her, and now you’re both hurting because of it.”

Ningning’s shoulders shook as she buried her face in her hands, her tears coming freely now. She felt Aeri’s hand on her back, a steady presence that didn’t demand anything from her.

“It’s okay to be scared,” Minjeong said gently. “But it’s not okay to let fear control you. You can’t keep running from this, Ning.”

Jimin nodded, her voice softer than before. “You don’t have to have all the answers right now. But you owe it to yourself, and to her to at least try.”

Ningning sniffled, lifting her head to look at her friends through tear-filled eyes. Their expressions were filled with quiet support, no judgment, just an unwavering belief that she could face this.

The weight of her conversation with Aeri, Jimin, and Minjeong lingered in Ningning’s chest as she walked across campus the next morning. The air was brisk, carrying the scent of damp earth from a recent rain, but it did little to clear her thoughts.

Her friends had been right, she couldn’t keep running. But knowing that and acting on it were two different things. She wasn’t ready to face Y/N yet. Every time she thought about reaching out, the fear of rejection, the fear of making things worse, held her back.

She sighed, pulling her bag tighter over her shoulder as she approached her next class. The last thing she needed was to spiral in front of her classmates.

But as she rounded the corner to the lecture hall, she froze. Yunjin and Chaewon were waiting by the door, their arms crossed and their expressions unreadable.

Ningning’s heart sank.

“Uh, hey,” she said cautiously, offering a weak smile.

Yunjin raised an eyebrow, her tone sharp. “We need to talk.”

Ningning hesitated, her gaze darting to the open classroom door like it was a lifeline. Her heart pounded as if it could somehow drown out the growing tension in the air. She felt cornered, exposed, and the sharp looks Yunjin and Chaewon were giving her only made it worse.

Before she could make a move, Yunjin stepped forward, her stance unyielding.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Yunjin said firmly. Her voice was steady, but there was no mistaking the edge in her tone.

Ningning’s stomach churned as the words sank in. Her fingers fumbled with the strap of her bag, and she looked to Chaewon, silently hoping for an out.

Chaewon placed a calming hand on Yunjin’s shoulder, her expression softer but no less resolute. “We’re not here to fight,” she said, her voice measured. “We just want answers.”

Ningning sighed heavily, her shoulders sagging under the weight of the moment. “Answers to what?” she asked, though the dread creeping into her chest told her she already knew.

“To why you hurt Y/N,” Yunjin said bluntly, her gaze cutting through Ningning’s defenses. “Do you have any idea what you’ve put her through?”

Ningning flinched, the accusation landing like a physical blow. She opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat. The memory of Y/N’s hurt expression flashed in her mind, twisting her stomach into knots.

“I... I didn’t mean to hurt her,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

“But you did,” Chaewon interjected, her voice steady but heavy with meaning. “She’s been trying to move on, but it’s obvious she’s still hurting. And honestly? So are you.”

Ningning felt the heat rising in her cheeks, a mix of shame and defensiveness bubbling up inside her. Her grip on her bag tightened, her knuckles white.

“I’m fine,” she said tersely, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her.

“No, you’re not,” Yunjin snapped, her words cutting through Ningning’s facade. “We’ve seen how you’ve been acting, like a mess, avoiding everyone, barely holding it together.” She leaned in slightly, her tone biting but not unkind. “If you’re fine, then I’m a pop star.”

The last comment hung in the air, both sharp and oddly humorous, but Ningning couldn’t bring herself to respond. Her throat felt tight, and her chest ached with the weight of her emotions. She tried to hold her ground, but the truth was written all over her face, and Yunjin and Chaewon weren’t letting her run from it.

Ningning’s temper flared, the heat of frustration rising to her face. Her voice came out sharper than she intended. “I don’t see how this is any of your business.”

Her hands gripped the strap of her bag so tightly her knuckles turned white. The tension coiling in her chest felt unbearable, and lashing out was the only release she could find.

Yunjin didn’t back down. Instead, she stepped closer, her eyes narrowing with a mix of anger and determination. “It’s my business because Y/N is my friend,” she said, her voice unwavering. “She’s been there for me when I needed her, and I’m not going to stand by and watch her suffer because you can’t get your act together.”

The words struck a nerve, and Ningning’s jaw clenched as she fought to maintain her composure. She could feel the pressure building behind her eyes, but she refused to let it show.

Chaewon sighed, stepping slightly between them, her voice calm but firm. “We’re not here to attack you, Ningning,” she said, her eyes searching Ningning’s face. “But you can’t keep pretending this didn’t happen. You need to face it.”

Ningning shook her head, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation. “I don’t owe you anything,” she muttered, her fists curling at her sides.

“You don’t owe us anything,” Yunjin said, her tone softening slightly but losing none of its weight. “But you owe it to Y/N, and to yourself, to stop running and be honest about how you feel.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning.

Ningning’s throat tightened, her defenses wavering as the truth pressed against her like a physical weight. Her voice cracked as she shot back, “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t feel like crap every single day for what I did?”

Chaewon placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, her voice soothing. “Then why not do something about it? Running away isn’t making it better, it’s only making it worse.”

“I’m scared, okay?” Ningning’s voice broke completely, and she felt the first sting of tears in her eyes. “I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t even know if I can.”

Yunjin’s gaze softened, and she let out a sigh, her arms uncrossing. “Ning, no one’s saying it’ll be easy. But if you care about her even half as much as we think you do, then you owe it to her, and to yourself to try.”

Chaewon nodded, her tone kind but firm. “We’re not against you, Ningning. We’re trying to help you.”

Ningning blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill. The vulnerability she had been running from for so long felt like it was finally catching up to her, and she wasn’t sure she had the strength to keep holding it off.

Ningning’s facade cracked at the words, her composure slipping as the emotions she had been suppressing clawed their way to the surface. Her chest felt tight, her breathing uneven. She tried to hold it together, but the pressure was too much.

“You think it’s that easy?” she snapped, her voice shaking with a mix of anger and despair. Her hands balled into fists at her sides as she glared at Yunjin, though her expression was more pleading than hostile. “You think I don’t want to fix this? I don’t even know where to start!”

Her words hung in the air, raw and unfiltered.

Yunjin’s sharp expression softened slightly, though her stance remained firm. She took a step back, giving Ningning space, but her voice carried the same unwavering conviction. “You start by being honest,” she said simply. “With her, and with yourself.”

The directness of the statement left Ningning momentarily speechless. She looked down, her breathing shaky as her thoughts swirled chaotically.

Chaewon stepped closer, her voice gentle but resolute. “You care about her, don’t you?”

Ningning opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat, the weight of them too much to bear. Her lips parted in a silent attempt to speak, but no sound came. Instead, her eyes burned with unshed tears as she looked away, her gaze fixed on the ground.

The lump in her throat grew tighter, and the silence between them stretched until Yunjin broke it.

“You love her, don’t you?” Yunjin’s voice was softer now, almost tender, but the question hit like a punch to the gut.

The weight of the truth she had been avoiding pressed down on Ningning, and her shoulders sagged under its heaviness. She stumbled back, sinking onto the nearest bench as her defenses crumbled entirely.

Her hands trembled as they came up to cover her face, and her voice was thick with emotion when she finally spoke. “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered, her words barely audible. “I’m scared. What if I mess it up again? What if she’s better off without me?”

Her confession lingered in the air, raw and vulnerable, and for a moment, the only sound was her quiet, uneven breathing.

Chaewon crouched down in front of her, resting a comforting hand on Ningning’s knee. Her voice was steady and reassuring, each word deliberate. “You won’t know unless you try. And I think she deserves to hear the truth, from you, not from anyone else.”

Ningning lowered her hands slightly, her tear-streaked face finally visible. She blinked at Chaewon, her lips trembling as she tried to absorb the words.

“What if it’s too late?” she asked, her voice breaking.

Yunjin stepped forward, her tone softer but still firm. “Then at least you’ll know you tried. But you can’t keep running from this, Ning. You owe it to both of you to face it, no matter how scary it feels.”

Ningning’s breathing slowed as the weight of their words settled over her. The fear that had been consuming her didn’t vanish, but for the first time, she felt a faint glimmer of possibility. Of hope.

Yunjin sighed, leaning back slightly. Her expression softened, though her tone remained firm. “Look, you don’t have to figure it all out right now,” she said, her voice measured. “But you need to talk to her. Be honest about how you feel, even if it’s messy.”

Ningning swallowed hard, the weight of the words sinking into her chest. Be honest. The very thought made her stomach churn. Honesty meant vulnerability, and vulnerability meant opening herself up to the possibility of rejection. Or worse, hurting Y/N again.

Chaewon nodded, stepping closer with a look of quiet determination. “We’ll help you,” she said gently. “We can set up a time for you to talk to her, somewhere private, where you won’t feel pressured. Somewhere you can just... be real with her.”

Ningning’s heart pounded as the thought took root. Her mind raced with the possibilities, each one more nerve-wracking than the last. What would she even say? How could she begin to fix the damage she’d caused?

But as terrifying as the thought of facing Y/N was, the alternative, living with the regret of never trying, was worse. The ache in her chest, the gnawing sense of emptiness that had consumed her since the day she pushed Y/N away, was unbearable.

Her gaze flickered between Yunjin and Chaewon, both of them watching her with expectant yet supportive eyes. Her fingers twisted nervously in her lap as she finally nodded.

“Okay,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll do it.”

The words felt fragile, as if they might shatter under the weight of her doubt, but as they hung in the air, a small wave of relief washed over her.

Yunjin’s expression softened into a small smile, a mix of approval and reassurance. “Good. Because it’s about time,” she said, her tone lighter now but still carrying the weight of their earlier conversation.

Chaewon crouched down slightly, meeting Ningning’s gaze as she gently patted her shoulder. “You’re not alone in this,” she said, her voice steady and full of warmth. “We’ll be here every step of the way.”

The simple gesture, Chaewon’s hand on her shoulder, the sincerity in her voice, was enough to crack through Ningning’s lingering doubt. For the first time in weeks, she felt a flicker of something she hadn’t dared to hope for: a glimmer of hope.

It wasn’t going to be easy. She knew that. But as she looked at Yunjin and Chaewon, their expressions filled with quiet confidence in her, she thought that maybe, just maybe, she could find a way to make things right.

The knot in her chest loosened slightly, and she let out a shaky breath. “Thank you,” she murmured, the words carrying a weight of gratitude she couldn’t fully express.

Chaewon smiled softly, standing back up and gesturing toward the hallway. “You’ve got this, Ningning. And when you’re ready, we’ll help you figure out the next step.”

Yunjin gave a playful nudge to Ningning’s shoulder as they turned to leave. “And don’t overthink it too much,” she said, her tone teasing but still supportive. “You’ve already made it this far. The hard part’s just beginning, but you’re tougher than you think.”

Ningning couldn’t bring herself to smile fully, but the faint curve of her lips was enough. As she watched her friends walk ahead, she realized that while the path ahead was uncertain, she wasn’t walking it alone.

#kpop imagines #girl group imagines #gg x reader #kpop x reader #aespa x fem reader #aespa x reader #ningning x fem reader #ningning x reader #ning yizhuo x reader

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arpicityandneed · 5 months ago

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Hi there! I'm so excited to hear your page is growing! Your work is amazing and I can't wait to see what you write next. Thank you for taking the time to share your work with us! 💜

If there's still space, could I ask for 2 or 10 with Steve or Bucky?

Thank you again and good luck in school!

Thanks!! It's my pleasure to share honestly.

Steve (#2 sex in front of a big window where anyone could glance up and spot them)

18+ f!reader. Cap!Steve. Dirty talk. Spanking. Semi public sex.

You couldn't breathe, couldn't think, all you could do was feel. Your cheek was pressed against cool glass as your boyfriend fucked you ravenously.

Alright maybe you shouldn't have teased him so much- each selfie sent during a tactical meeting was just your way of passing the time.

In your own defense, you'd been unsupervised.

But Steve had simply thrown you over his shoulder when he got back, ignoring your squeaks of protest. Your tshirt (his actually) was ripped in half before you got thrown on the bed, and all you got was one of his shit eating grins and a "you asked for it" before he was on you.

That was three- four? rounds ago, and at this point you weren't sure if you wanted to curse or thank Erskine's serum. Your boyfriend's stamina was endless.

"Come on pretty girl, where'd all that attitude go hm?" Steve was panting in your ear, thrusting his wickedly fat cock into your cum filled pussy over and over as his massive hand slapped your ass cheek.

"Thought you wanted my attention. Well now you have it baby." He bit down on your shoulder hard enough to leave teeth marks as you clenched down around him, every roll of his hips dragging the head of his cock over your spot and making you keen.

"Stevie," you moaned completely out of it as you fucked yourself back onto his cock shamelessly, each balls deep kiss of his tip to your cervix making your eyes cross.

"Yeah yeah, I'm here sweetheart. Just gotta gimme one more and I'll let you rest for a bit mkay?" Steve may be enthustiatic but he was still gentle with your nonenhanced body. (As gentle as you wanted him to be anway.)

All it took was his hand snaking around to find your clit before you were screaming his name, grateful for the soundproof glass of Stark tower.

Steve groaned and pulled your hips flush against his before he added even more of his super sized load to your overflowing folds. If you had hand shaped bruises on your hips tomorrow you wouldn't be surprised, but more importantly you wondered if birth control worked with super soldier sperm.

Gentle hands picked you up when you would've fallen to the floor happily, carrying you to the shower and turning on the hot water as they held you close.

"Hey baby, can you open your eyes for me?" Steve cajoled softly, cupping your cheek in his hand as you blinked up at him blearily.

"Try that shit again and I'll have Bucky deal with you, he loves putting little brats like you in their place." Your eyes widened in shock and more than a little bit of interest, and it just made Steve laugh.

"Next time baby, rest now."

(10 minutes prior)

Bucky moved silently, Steve's text with coordinates and a simple note 'enjoy the show' made him curious he could admit. But he wasn't expecting to see your pretty little self fucked out and pressed against the glass.

Steve had picked the perfect spot, the exact coordinates giving Bucky a private view of Steve's window and your fully naked body split open on his best friends cock.

"Well I'll be damned," Bucky muttered as he adjusted his erection in his pants.

Even 70 years later, Stevie was still a fucking punk.

#f!reader #steve rogers imagines #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers smut #steve ☆#hundred follower event ☆#asks ☆#mina writes ☆#bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #buck x bucky #bucky x you #james buchanan barnes #steve rogers #bucky ☆

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chiyokoemilia · 1 day ago

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chapters of us | prologue

pairing - architect/carpenter gojo satoru x bookstore owner reader

summary. your love life is as quiet as the shelves of your bookstore. seeking a change, you sign up for a dating app and become captivated by a picture-less/nameless profile—belonging to none other than gojo satoru, a charming architect with a complicated past. your online connection sparks with undeniable chemistry, but you remain unaware that the man you’re drawn to is also your neighbor next door. when he unexpectedly walks into your cozy bookstore, your world shifts. as you navigate feelings for both the mystery man online and the neighbor who feels like a heartbeat away, hidden truths loom over you. can love blossom amid secrets, or will the shadows of your pasts eclipse your stories before it even begins?

word count – 2.26k (i know, it’s really short!)

fic warnings. contains explicit sexual content, guy-next-door, romantic tension, rough sex, age difference (gojo is 32, reader 23), themes of self-doubt, angst, insecurities, heartbreak, and emotional trauma. complicated relationship/pining, alcohol use.

a/n: hi lovebirds! thank you for stumbling across this small liddol corner of the internet. if you couldn’t already tell, i’m sickly obsessed with the man that is gojo satoru and i am unapologetically shameless in that devotion. moving on [...] this just so happens to be my very first fic in years. the last book i wrote was a fictional story in middle school inside a beat-up dollar-store notebook. i recall the feeling of joy running up to my english teacher with a huge smile on my face, sharing with the world how i wrote my very first book. i also remember rummaging through boxes in the storage closet of my garage; I found that very same notebook years later – laughing and cringing at my own writing. although that book is long gone, i hope to find the same joy i found in writing as i did then. and while i cannot guarantee my skills have improved much since, i cannot help but hope you can all find some joy in my work too. here is to new beginnings!! ♡ (author's note continued at the end)

series masterlist | next chapter ->

FLIGHT FROM GERMANY TO JAPAN June 28, 2014 [2 Months Ago]

The cabin is a sea of muted conversations, the quiet clink of glasses, and the steady hum of the engine. Beneath the thin layer of noise, the world outside is nothing but a gray blur, the clouds shifting beneath you like cotton in a needle.

You trace the outline of your boarding pass with the tip of your finger, a subconscious motion that holds more weight than it should. The ink is smudged from where you gripped it too tightly lost in the chaos of your thoughts. Tokyo, Japan. The name seems foreign, yet it carries the weight of all the unanswered questions you’ve been holding within.

But there’s no hope in your chest, no excitement like you’re supposed to feel. Only the hollow thud of your heart against your ribcage, a constant reminder that you’re running.

You should be scared, but fear is something you’ve grown numb to. Fear of the unknown, fear of starting over, fear of facing what you left behind in Germany. It’s easier to let that weight slip down into your stomach and ignore it—at least for now.

Germany had been suffocating. The sterile white of the hospital halls, the incessant beeping of monitors that had once been a comfort but now only reminded you of how long you’d been there. The months that bled into years of quiet waiting, hoping for something that never came. And then there was the betrayal. The friend you had leaned on, the person you trusted who broke you in a way you never saw coming.

You exhale slowly, pushing the thoughts aside, willing the ache to retreat into the hollow space that has become your chest.

Tokyo. New city. New start. You tell yourself that over and over, even though you’re not sure you believe it.

The plane is filled with strangers, none of them more than temporary. You’d resigned yourself to the endless parade of unfamiliar faces, the kind of transient connections that fill the spaces between real ones. You hadn’t expected the woman in 14A to change that.

She sits beside you, her eyes soft but piercing, like she can see right through the layers of distraction you’ve woven around yourself. Her breath is laced with mint, and it almost makes you smile, but you don’t. She leans in slightly, her voice warm, coaxing the air out of your lungs.

“You know,” she begins, her eyes locking onto yours, “sometimes life doesn’t give us what we want because it’s leading us to what we need.”

The words settle into the space between you, uninvited but present.

You don’t know why she says it.

Maybe she’s just trying to fill the silence, or maybe it’s something more.

You don’t respond right away. She keeps talking, as if she can’t feel the distance between you, as if she doesn’t see the armor you’ve draped over yourself.

“Have you ever been to Tokyo?” she asks, her voice shifting in a gentle pitch as if asking about the weather.

“No,” you say, a simple answer, but it feels like too much.

No, I’ve never been. I’ve never had the luxury of going.

Your thoughts are spiraling, but you don’t say any of that.

Not to her.

The plane continues its descent. The world outside the window is fading—Germany swallowed by the clouds and long forgotten, leaving only the unknown in its wake.

Tokyo is closer now, realer somehow, and the weight of it presses down on you.

“Tokyo’s a funny place,” the woman continues, her voice still loud in the near-empty row. “My daughter's husband always says the city feels like it’s meant to reset you. Like it washes away all the bad stuff.”

You wish you could believe her.

You wish you could buy into the idea of a clean slate, the notion that Tokyo could simply erase what’s behind you.

But you know better.

A part of you wonders if anything will ever truly cleanse you.

You look out the window, the faint outline of Tokyo’s skyline emerging from the fog.

There it is—your “fresh start." Your “new beginning.”

But deep down, you can’t shake the nagging thought: Is this really what I need? Or am I just running from what I’ll never be able to outrun?

The plane bumps as it touches the runway, the wheels screeching against the tarmac, and you snap back to the moment.

This is it. You’re here.

The woman continues, unaware of your inner turmoil. “They say it’s a city of second chances.”

You don’t answer. You’re already thinking of your own messy life, and the thought of second chances? It seems nothing short of unattainable.

The woman sighs, content with her unsolicited advice.

You let her words drift in one ear and out the other.

I'm not here to hear about "second chances."

You’re here to escape.

To run from the weight of what you can’t outrun.

She’s still talking when the seatbelt sign dings, the jarring sound reminding you that you have arrived.

The wheels continue to squeal against the runway, and the plane slows, the steady hum of the engines finally coming to an end. The air in the cabin shifts—there’s a soft exhale from everyone on the plane – a collective release – as if the flight itself had been a slow, drawn-out exhalation of everything they’d been holding inside.

But for you? You share no such sentiment. There is no relief in your body.

Just a tight knot in your chest, a mix of anticipation and dread that’s been building up for as long as you can remember.

The woman in 14A is still talking, her voice rising over the thrum of the plane coming to a halt.

You can’t even focus on her anymore. Not with the overwhelming noise inside your own head. Your fingers grip the armrest, the cold plastic biting into your skin, grounding you.

It’s not that you don’t want to hear her.

She’s kind, her presence is even comforting.. in some way.

But you can’t stop thinking about what you’re running from.

Back home, you had been chained to the hospital for so long that the outside world felt like a distant illusion.

You shift in your seat, eyes flicking to the window as the airport draws closer. It feels like a dream you’re not ready to wake up from. There’s an odd sense of unreality that settles over you as the city comes into focus. It almost feels strange to explore beyond the world you had always known.

It’s bright and bustling— nothing like the quiet halls and the incessant ticking of hospital clocks.

But how long will that excitement last?

How long will it take before the weight of your past catches up with you?

The woman in 14A seems to sense the shift in your mood. Her voice softens, as though she’s able to see through the internal war in your head.

“You’re running from something, aren’t you?” she asks, gentle words, but sharp enough to pierce through your distracted mind.

You freeze for a moment. Your throat tightens.

She doesn’t know. She can’t know. But somehow, it feels like she does.

You don’t answer. You can’t.

Instead, you turn away, fumbling with your bag, your eyes darting between the window and your lap, anything to avoid the weight of her gaze. But she doesn’t push. She doesn’t demand a confession. She simply waits, her presence a quiet understanding.

The plane finally comes to a full stop, the engines winding down to a soft whirr, and the seatbelt sign flashes on. Your pulse quickens, your heartbeat a steady drum in your ears as the final leg of this journey begins.

Bu-dump, Bu-dump, Bu-dump.

You gather your things mechanically, the weight of your bag too familiar, too burdensome. You stand when the seatbelt sign clicks off, trying to ignore the slight tremor in your hands.

You step into the aisle, the woman in 14A watching you go with a knowing smile tugging at the corners of her lips. You don’t know why, but you feel like she’s seeing something you don’t want to be seen. It unsettles you more than you care to admit.

Tokyo awaits beyond the cabin doors, the city alive with promise. You can feel it in the way the air shifts, the hum of activity waiting for you to dive into it. You have no idea what you’re going to find here. No clue how long it will take to forget the whispers of your past or how long you’ll have before the scars start to show again. You don’t know what you’re hoping for anymore—only that it’s time to move forward into whatever comes next.

ᡣ𐭩 ࣪ ˖⊹ 𝜗𝜚 ࣪𝄞 𝜗𝜚 ⊹˖ ࣪ ᡣ𐭩

The moment you step off the plane, everything is different. There’s no turning back now. You feel it—the tug of the unknown, the weight of all that’s behind you, pressing against your back.

A new city. A new life. But no matter what, you can't shake the feeling in your heart: that nothing feels like it's enough.

You take a deep breath as you step into the crowded terminal, the buzz of voices and the endless flow of bodies a stark contrast to the quiet isolation of the flight. You feel small, almost invisible, a speck in the vast sea of faces.

You continue trudging forward, like you're walking through a fog, each step heavier than the last. The terminal stretches out like a never-ending tunnel. The blur of voices and the mechanical beep of the passport machine melt into a dull hum, and you can barely keep your focus as you reach the scanning station.

You swipe your passport through the machine and it flashes red. The machine’s shrill beep rings in your ears, like some cruel reminder of how your life is met with nothing but obstacles.

A uniformed officer approaches, his eyes cold, unreadable.

"Miss, I’ll need you to come with me,” he says, his tone matter-of-fact, as he motions toward a small room.

Of course. How wonderful.

You nod, your throat dry as dust, not trusting yourself to speak.

You follow him into the quiet room, where he gently places your bag on a table. The metallic click of the zipper fills the space as he opens it, his hands methodically searching through your belongings. Your personal items—nothing special, just the usual mess—are strewn across the table. The fraying notebook, your thick scarf that still smells like the hospital, and that keychain that reminds you of your happiest memory. You can’t help but feel the heat rising to your face when he pulls out a hello-kitty tampon, then your old hoodie— the one you couldn’t bear to leave behind, even if it’s more of a comfort thing than anything else now. It’s embarrassing, but you keep your mouth shut.

"A holiday?" he asks, glancing at you briefly, eyes still focused on your bag.

"No," you stammer, your voice barely a whisper as your fingers curl tightly around your sides.

"Business then?" he presses, his gloved hands pulling out a crumpled receipt from a café you don't even remember visiting.

"No," you reply again, feeling the exhaustion pull at you. "Just... no." You rub your forehead, fighting back the incoming headache and a flood of emotions that threatens to spill over.

"Not business," he repeats, "Well, then, what is it, miss?"

You swallow hard, the lump in your throat refusing to go down.

The weight of his gaze feels like it’s tearing through you, and for a moment, you want to hide, to curl up into a ball and disappear.

But you can’t. You won’t.

"My mother passed away," you finally manage, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

For a moment, the officer stills, his fingers hovering over a sweater. He looks up at you then—really looks at you—and there’s a brief shift in his expression, almost imperceptible, but it’s there. Something in his gaze softens, just for a second.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he says, his voice lowering in a rare note of sympathy. The sincerity in his tone catches you off guard, almost making you want to crumble in front of him. It's strange how something so small—a kindness, a flicker of empathy—can pierce through the numbness, even for a moment.

He hands your passport back to you, then nods toward the door. "You're all set. Welcome to Tokyo."

You’re too dazed to respond, your head spinning. Your body feels like it’s on autopilot as he leads you out of the room and toward the exit. The cool air in the terminal is a stark contrast to the suffocating weight of grief, and you breathe deeply, trying to steady yourself.

When you reach baggage claim, you spot your bags circling around carousel three. You take a deep breath, picking up your two suitcases, the familiar weight of them strangely grounding.

Outside, a taxi waits. The driver doesn’t ask questions as he opens the door for you, only giving you a simple nod. You step inside, grateful for the quiet moment, the solitude of the ride.

“Where to?” he asks, his voice a gentle rumble, still distant but polite.

"Jinbōchō," you say, barely above a whisper, your mind far away from the words you’re speaking.

He nods, sliding your bags into the trunk without a word.

Next thing you know, you’re off, the city lights blurring past in a mix of color and motion.

“Coming back home?” he asks after a while, breaking the silence.

Home?

You exhale slowly, trying to make sense of the question.

What is home anymore?

Your mind drifts, the past and present colliding in a haze.

"Sort of," you murmur, the words escaping before you can stop them.

You’re not sure if it’s the truth.

But for now, it’s all you have.

ᡣ𐭩 ࣪ ˖⊹ 𝜗𝜚 ࣪𝄞 𝜗𝜚 ⊹˖ ࣪ ᡣ𐭩

Raindrops race down the car window, each one stubbornly fighting to stick to the glass. You close your eyes, and the exhaustion from the trip hits you like a wave, pulling you under.

The second your eyes slip shut, memories come rushing back. She’s there—your mom.

You can almost smell the flour and feel the warmth of the kitchen. It’s a lazy Saturday morning, and you’re nine years old, helping her bake while she hums some old song, twirling around with a smile on her face.

It’s one of those memories you’ve kept locked away for years, like a little piece of happiness you’re scared to lose—one that slips further out of reach every day.

You remember how bad it hurt when she left.

Dad tried his best, but nothing could fill that hole she left behind. Nothing could take her place.

You ended up burying yourself in books, getting lost in stories that felt safer than the real world—stories that numbed the pain, even if it's only for a little while.

By the time you were in college, the library had become your second home. You’d spend hours wandering the aisles, soaking up the smell of old books and worn-out pages. It was quiet, safe—like nothing bad could touch you there. It was easier to drown in fiction than to face a world where everything had felt so messed up and broken.

But one morning, without warning, everything changed.

ᡣ𐭩 ࣪ ˖⊹ 𝜗𝜚 ࣪𝄞 𝜗𝜚 ⊹˖ ࣪ ᡣ𐭩

series masterlist | next chapter ->

author's note: well, hello there! thank you for making it to the end of this little teaser to chapters of us. this is meant to be a little prologue. as excited as i was to get right into reader’s fated meeting with gojo, i truly wanted to take my time to establish the scene for the story, a small look into her universe - setting the stage for what is to come. i wanted to write more and im sure you could hardly call this a prologue, but it’s been sitting in my drafts for weeks & its giving me something of a headache just looking at it. is this perhaps.. the fated writers block?! i digress. i thought this was enough of a delay so ill simply share what i have now and write more as i go. i'm truly excited for this story. i have so many plot twists, romance + angst planned but i've honestly been procrastinating getting this out and doubting my work. it's always been a dream of mine to become an author, but for now i'm simply going to enjoy this little hobby of mine and hopefully make some new friends along the way. what are your thoughts so far? can't wait to hear them!

ᰔ taglist: — @madamechrissy @berrylovesmegumiiii @introvertatitsfinest @dark-agate @cheezitcracker @frozenmallows @berrychaivibe @lovelyjkook @seternic @dazailover1900 @jotarohat @httpstoyosi @satorurize @myahfig4 @teatimebeliever @alula394 @flowerpot113 @harryzcherry @emochosoluvr @sylustoru @daydreamingastronauts @winniethepooh-lover @gojoscumslut @achildofaphrodite @sorenflyinn @xixflower @altgojo @moncher-ire @nappingmoon @nanasukii28 @sherrieblossoms @celineko20 @averyjadedemerald @sleepyyammy @fisusaurus (open!)

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metallicames · 1 month ago

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Teenage dream

Part 2

Description: James and the reader haven't seen each other for ten days and when they finally manage to meet, passion takes over.

Warnings: age gap, smut, oral sex, sex, dirty talkinkg, unprotected sex.

⸻⭒⸱ 🖤 ⸱⭒⸻

It's been ten days since James and I last saw each other, ten endless days of waiting, sexting, calling at any time of the day or night until I reached a point where I almost thought I was going crazy.

Ten days of texts like "I can't stop thinking about being inside you, I'm so hard" during classes, of midnight calls like "Touch yourself for me baby girl, let me hear how bad you need me" while I'm locked in my room under the covers trying to imagine being touched by his hands while his deep sexy voice guides me towards pleasure. Imagining him without being able to actually have him was exhausting but finally the wait is over.

I park outside his huge house with my heart pounding, as I approach the door I am impatient, feverish. I enter through the main door, greeted by a soft and warm light and spicy scent. I find James behind the kitchen counter, as soon as he sees me he stops fiddling with the grill and he comes towards me. As he approaches I hold my breath, every time his rough beauty makes me falter. He comes close, the weight of his presence is overwhelming, his stature commanding the space. I feel small under his gaze, he takes the bag from my hand making it fall to the floor and without saying a word he kisses me holding me thight to him with both arms. His warmth immediately envelops me and we let ourselves go in an intense and passionate kiss, I can feel how much he craves me just by the way kisses and squeezes me. His embrace is tight, like he’s afraid to let me go, and I can feel the fire in him, burning through every touch. His hands immediately end up under my dress grabbing my buttocks with force lifting me on his hips "what if we talk later about how it goes and what we have done these days?uhm?" he says in a teasing tone starting to kiss my neck going down towards the shoulder blade.

Once we enter his bedroom he pushes me against the wall, I feel his erection between my legs while the hand that is not holding me up makes its way under my dress reaching one of my already turgid nipples. “God James...how much I missed you…” my whispered voice is punctuated by sighs while James pushes me even harder against the wall kissing me hungrily.

Shortly after he sits on the bed after taking off his pants and boxers, I missed seeing him naked, eager, hard just for me. I immediately get on my knees between his legs still wrapped in my good girl flower dress while James begins to slowly touch himself along the entire swollen and veiny length. He is so hot that I would stay still and watch him pleasure himself but the desire to make him enjoy and make him feel how much I missed him takes over. I lower myself and begin to kiss and lick his balls delicately taking them in my mouth and then caressing them with my tongue while he continues to jerk off with slow movements starting to pant loudly. I move up towards his length with my mouth, his hand ends up in my hair letting me take control. “Look at me while you suck it sweety... mhh like that” he breathes out, I obey looking up while my mouth is busy giving him pleasure and I already feel wet just looking at him and hearing his moans.

The grip on my hair becomes more vigorous as the minutes pass and when I slightly increase the pace, letting it slide completely into my mouth, James raises his hips against my face as he cums copiously in my mouth "Good god..yess" he purrs. I slow my movements and then I get up while I smile at him running a hand over his abdomen “damn, that was a lot” James says with labored breathing while I see a few more white drops coming out of his swollen tip which I promptly lick.

While James recovers I stand up in front of him and slowly undress, his eyes light up, his gaze penetrates me following my every movement, I get closer to his face kissing him and biting his lower lip.

“Ride me baby, let me feel how needy you are” his hot breath brushes my ear while with one hand he brings me closer to him. I position myself on top of him completely naked and wet without even being touched staring into his eyes, I take his already hard cock in my hands bringing it closer to my throbbing core. “I missed you so much” James whispers while I lower my hips feeling him sink inside me stretching out slowly my walls.

I start riding James, grinding on him, our bodies are entwined and our breaths labored, his large back is leaning against the headboard while his eyes clouded with pleasure observe my every movement, my every expression as I move on top of him rotating my hips, feeling every inch of him inside of me “This feel so good… God” I whisper panting “I know baby.. I know.. I feel how much you enjoy it.. how wet you’re… ssshhittt”. While we are enjoying the connection of our bodies his hands move from my hips pushing my arms behind my back, blocking me in that position. The moment I let my head fall back looking up I notice our reflection on the mirror attached to the ceiling. I keep riding him but my gaze never left the mirror that gave me a new perspective on our bodies “Do you like what you see baby?” James asks with a husky voice, tightening the grip on my wrists and giving me an unexpected thrust from underneath. “F-fuck yess” I say almost breathless as my mind is focused on the imagine and the sensation of our bodies moving in sync.

His strong grip on my wrists and the feeling of his thick cock buried deep inside me is all I need to come as I grind myself hard against him seeking even more friction against his pubic bone before collapsing against his chest with shaking legs: “my fucking god James” I breathe out. James releases his grip on my wrists and wraps his arms around me, holding me close to him, continuing to move underneath, giving me small slow thrusts, making the feeling of ecstasy prolong throughout my body: “Good girl.” He whispers, kissing my shoulder.

As I’m filled with a long wave of pleasure James moves me under him taking control and crushes me against his body, pushing himself into me so deep that I can’t breathe from the overstimulation. I cling to him with my nails, crossing my legs around his waist, watching the movements of his naked body through the mirror. Every muscle of his powerful back tense as he pushes himself into me slowly but with strength. Our moans echo throughout the room accompanied by the sound of the headboard slamming forcefully against the wall- thank god he has no neighbors.

With an unexpected move James rises slightly bringing my ankles up to his shoulders, he penetrates me again emitting a low growl “I’m going to destroy you.. fuck-” he lets out tightening his hand around my wrist next to my face. I'm completely lost, my eyes roll back in my head as I feel him moving inside me at an increasing pace, going deeper and deeper without ever stopping. “James keep going god.. I’m so close”.

James increases the pace even more looking into my eyes intensely: “I’m close too.. where do you want me to come?” I’m so fucked I can’t even answer, “mmmh? C’mon where do you want my cum?” he leans even more on me pushing my legs against his chest, buries balls deep inside of me, “I-inside of me..” I stammer, “tell me where baby girl” his hand tightens my neck and I see his eyes light up, “Come inside of my pussy.. please” I whimper clinging to his shoulders, James pushes against me crushing me under his body so deep that it seems to feel his big cock in my stomach. I look up at the ceiling, seeing him from that perspective, with his skin slightly moistened by sweat and hearing him pant and swear under his breath in my ear makes my vision goes blurry as I come shaking, pressed on the mattress by his weight as my moans come out uncontrollably from my mouth.

James follows shortly after, growing against the crook of my neck, holding me still with his hands until he finishes filling me completely.

Satisfied, he abandons himself on top of me, breathing deeply. I caress his short hair, slightly damp with sweat, and enjoy his smell as we try to recover from our hight, my eyes never stop admiring his broad back reflected in the mirror.

"You're quiet.. are you ok?" He asks me with his sigh altered while he's still inside of me. "Oh yes.. I'm enjoying the moment, you're... You're amazing" I whisper in his ear.

We stay in bed, wrapped in each other's arms, the soft warmth of the blankets surrounding us. We look into each other's eyes, not in a rush, savoring the quiet moment. Time seems to slow down as we remain there, feeling the rhythm of our breaths sync, content in the stillness.

"Are you hungry? I wanted to cook something before you came into the house in that little dress" he says to me in an amused tone.

"Yes, let's eat something." I reply with a smile.

We spend the next hour laughing and joking while James grills some game meat he hunted a few days ago. I love being with him and watching how our relationship is evolving even though I haven't told anyone about us yet for fear of breaking the spell.

"Y/N jokes aside, I want to talk to your dad, he deserves the truth, I don't want to hide, I really like you" he tells me in a serious and firm tone while he fills my plate and sits down in front of me.

"I like you too... a lot. You're right, I just have to find the courage, but it's the right thing to do." The fact that James wants to share our relationship with other people makes me realize that he cares about me and that he really wants to establish something deeper and this thing makes me feel euphoric and electrified as if I were living a dream.

When we finish eating the quiet hum of the evening settles between us while we tidy up the kitchen. I find myself lost in the details of him: his face scars, his jawline, the way his lips curve, and the strength in his shoulders and arms as he moves. My gaze lingers a little longer than it should, drawn in by the quiet magnetism that seems to surround him.

“I haven't told you this yet, but you're gorgeous” he suddenly whispers in my ear as he leans against my back, pushing me lightly against the kitchen counter, making me feeling the smooth surface cold against my heated skin.

I can feel his presence close, steady and comforting, yet intense.

Then, in a moment that feels inevitable, he finally bends me against the counter, his grip tightening with the force of who knows exactly what he wants, claiming what’s his, again.

#james hetfield #metallica #james hetfield smut #james hetfield fanfiction #james hetfield x reader #metallica fanfiction #metallica smut

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deepdreamnights · 3 months ago

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Vidu 2.0 - First Reactions

I am in the Vidu Artist's program, so I've had a chance to play with version 2.0 before the official launch on the 15th. What I'm working with is a pre-launch build, and has improved day-to-day, so this may not reflect the final release.

I haven't yet had a chance to give it the full paces-run-through it deserves, but here's some early samples, and early thoughts. (Converted to GIF because you can only upload one video per post.)

The short version is that everything has been incrementally improved: Better coherence, better prompt responsiveness, better motion, and way, way better speed. Without doing exact time-tests it's say it's at least 25% the time to generate a video of the same dimensions.

While there's still some of the "smudge-blurring" that you got with 1-1.5, it happens less frequently, and is more mitigated with an image/animation that match.

Motion varies gen-by-gen, but impressive results seem to be the norm.

While his sticks are somewhat flexible at full framerate, the cat drummer's cymbal hit struck me as particularly nice.

Control and Coherence

While the roar may not seem particularly impressive, roars, howls, and other emotional outbursts didn't work well in previous versions. Aunt Acid's fumes and drips are are particularly fun, and while it still has problems with her tail, PteroDarla's crest and wings are actually working the way they should (after a number of attempts).

For a long time, I've wanted the last shot of the TMax opener to be Max starting with a zoom-in on the eye going out to a roar and pose. While this isn't quite where I want it, 2.0 is the first time I've gotten him to go through the whole sequence. Which is promising.

Weird Stuff Works

What remains impressive about Vidu is how well it handles concepts and characters that are off-the-beaten-path. Hailuo just released a character consistency feature that only works with humans, but here...

Here's my friend Cole's OC, the Waffler (Intergalactic Bounty-Hunter.) He's one unbalanced breakfast. He's also rather resistant gen AI replication because he's an SD space man with a waffle for head, a very specific waffle for a head turned at a 45 degree angle. Vidu 1.0 wasn't able to work with him, almost always giving him a mouth or rotating his waffle, if not completely glitching out. 2.0 is much better to handle it.

The numerous dino-anthros above are all in the "Tricky for AI" box. If I was into doing what could be gened easily, however, I'd just be pumping out an endless parade of pillowy waifus.

In my defense, I classify SexBomb as more of a 'strifu'. This particular one was an attempt to see if a toony image prompt could be rendered live-action with text prompting. Long story short it can't, but it can produce some interesting effects like the faux-posterized background.

I've had AI gen close to her costume before, but it never adds the fuse or does the boob-window right, and here we are.

One of my old bits of Transformers fanart of the Pretender Monster Icepick served as the character model for the one on the right.

Fantastical Creatures in general are a lot easier to execute in this version as well.

And... Action!

Motion is a lot more natural this time around.

Weapons fire (though sometimes a bit literal) tends to come out of the barrel semi-consistently now, characters can fight the waves without melting themselves and...

A giant rubber monster can eat your protagonist (if you're lucky.)

Quirks and Flaws

Nothing is perfect, and all AI you see is curated. So lets talk areas to be improved.

A lot of stuff presently generates with multilingual gibberish captions sometimes, which I expect is an early model bug. Versions 2-3 of Midjourney would have similar artifacts, and that sort of thing isn't hard to correct for.

There are still issues with blurring/smudging, especially with things like tail-tips, hands, and any motion the robot doesn't quite get.

Sometimes stuff shapechanges or appears that ought not to, like the knight's floppy second blade.

Or speed gets off requiring being fixed in post.

And stuff just goes dumb sometimes, which one should expect (and in my estimation, desire) from any generative system, artificial or analogue. Should the water go on the fire rather than the firemen? Yes. Do I regret this gen? No.

One quirk of the system is how it resolves incongruous multi-prompts. I've been accustomed to Midjourney, which, when generating an image must blend everything requested. You can put two completely different backgrounds in as image prompts and it will blend them into something new and wacky.

Vidu resolves problems like having two background images at once by taking advantage of the 4th dimension. Confuse the robot too much and it will just cut/fade from one idea to the next.

And then there's stuff that just happens, like, a shot being perfect except a painted (and thus ought to be static) background object animating beautifully (going retro is a path wrought with irony) and the robot deciding it'd rather do CG-style than 2d.

And while it doesn't show up great in the gif of Max at the construction site there, 2.0 is more vulnerable to interpreting bad transparency-clipping as part of the character design, so be careful if you're using transparent PNGs.

Also, if you slap a character and a background together without elaborating on the setting with the text prompt, it will often slap the background back there as a static backdrop and produce a very "greenscreen-y" effect.

Rather than laden this post down with more animated GIFs, I'll be setting up a batch of them as posts for the upcoming days. At least, that's the plan.

#vidu ai #vidu #vidu speed #vidu 2.0 #ai video #ai animation #tyrannomax #AI tutorial #AI review #animated gif

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ivesambrose · 1 year ago

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𝓦𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓭 𝓸𝓯 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝓮𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓼𝓮𝓮𝓴

1. 2. 3.

Here's to reminding all of you what your heart truly desires so you don't settle for less ❤️

To Book a personal reading with me DM or email me at [email protected]

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Picture 1

A love that feels like a gift and an answered prayer.

A love that happens in the right place at the right time.

A love built on understanding rather than endless compromises that make you lesser of the person you truly are.

You likely seek someone who is just as much of a giver as you are. You want a traveller, a merchant almost, a story teller, someone good with children or simply someone who brings out your inner child and soothes it. Someone who makes you feel secure and safe overtime. Someone who can guide you and that you can learn from. Someone who makes you feel beautiful.

You seek a type of love thar grows overtime, especially as friends, a reliable type of love, you also want to help others in need together, give back to the community, simply have more than enough. Love is supposed to be your safe space.

Avoid relationships or romantic partners who rush you or make you feel on the edge or aren't generous with their time, affection and resources.

Picture 2

A love that's crossed the oceans of time and burnt bridges and crawled out of the woods just to find you.

A passionate love.

A love built on something transcendal.

You seek someone uncommon but good with words and expression. You want someone expressive, determined and strong both internally and externally. Someone who does not required validation and can stay private but at the same time will express their love to you deeply.

You seek a type of love that is built on devotion. Your walls are titanium strong so to break that down and reach for the softness in your heart is not for the weak. You seek solid foundations and someone to build your own legacy with. Someone who mirrors you, you have a telepathy with and who will give you their world. You seek someone you can continue learning and growing fond of no matter how long time passes. You seek intensity as well as adventure.

Avoid relationships and partners you have no mental, emotional and physical stimulation with. With bare minimum efforts or if you feel you'll have to mask yourself constantly or settle just because they're 'nice'.

Picture 3

A love that quiets your anxious mind.

An honest love that doesn't make you question it's Integrity or make you watch your back with every step.

A love that will catch you if you fall. A love that won't judge you if you slip. A love built on thoughts, memories, words, secrets, poems, understanding and acceptance.

You seek someone emotionally present and mature. Someone calm and collected and soft spoken. Loudness and rashness really bothers you. You seek someone a little old school perhaps in aesthetics and approach yet open minded. Someone you can bare your soul to, tell everything to, know everything about and still feel secure. Someone to share your world with and travel the world with and maybe even create a one of your own together. Away from the norm. A love that feels like a warm hug on a winter's night. A love that writers about.

Avoid relationships and partners who can't understand your need to be silent and aloof sometimes. Avoid anyone and anything that makes you feel uncomfortable but insists that you're not supposed to feel that way.

#free readings #tarot community #divination community #pick a card #pac #pick a picture #love reading #love pick a card

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simstorian-blog · 4 months ago

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New York City: THREE

(CC List + DL)

E X T E R I O R

C O N C E R T S T A G E

H O T E L

Standard Suite I An open concept room with a double bed, hosting up to 2 sims, and living area. It comes with its own bathroom.

Standard Suite II An open concept room with 2 double beds, hosting up to 4 sims, and living area. It comes with its own bathroom.

Premium Suite Private Floor with an outdoor terrace overlooking the city. It comes with the following: A full living room, kitchenette, a bedroom, and a full bathroom.

M A R K E T

Equipped with functional objects. You can grab a coffee and can purchase produce, fish, food from the market stall and/or cafeteria counter! This space has its own bathroom.

B E A U T Y B A R

This beauty bar has 6 salon chairs meeting the minimum requirements for the Shear Brilliance Mod. Alongside those chairs comes a retail counter, seating for waiting customers, 4 mani/pedi Spa Day Chairs, 1 Massage Table, a Staff Room, and its own bathroom.

[W A R N I N G: This lot is heavy. I do NOT recommend it if you do not have a decent system. My personal specs – GTX 1660ti, 16GB Ram, Nvme M.2 Primary Drive with 156GB of CC. It takes me 2-3 min to load for this lot, which is longer than my regular time. However, I have it set to the ‘Lounge’ lot type to avoid the extended load for the ‘Generic’ lot buildbuy when you have a lot of CC.]

World Map: San Myshuno

Area: Myshuno Meadows

Lot Size: 64 x 64

Capacity:

A Beauty Bar – Salon Chairs, Spa Day Items, Staff Room

A Concert Stage

A Hotel – Lot51’s Suite Life Mod Compatible

A Market – Functional

Bonus: 4 Empty Spaces – 3 Small buildings, 1 Spacious Skyscraper Floor

Gallery ID: Simstorian-ish

[Long post, I know! Second half below the line lol]

Packs Needed

Expansion Packs

City Living

Cottage Living

Eco Lifestyle

Get Famous

Get Together

Get To Work

Growing Together

High School Years

Horse Ranch

Lovestruck

For Rent

Seasons

Snowy Escape

Game Packs

Dine Out

Dream Home Decorator

Journey to Batuu

Jungle Adventure

My Wedding Stories

Parenthood

Realm of Magic

Spa Day

Strangerville

Vampires

Werewolves

Stuff Packs

Backyard Stuff

Bowling Night

Home Chef Hustle

Romantic Garden

Kits

Cozy Bistro

Castle Estate

Desert Luxe

Recommended Gameplay Mods

(Please read through what each mod has to offer before deciding if it fits your gameplay style or not.)

Better Build Buy (For the ‘Deletion Protection’ setting, if you want to modify)

City Vibes Lot Traits

Lock/Unlock Doors for Any Lot (Works for Community Lots)

Shear Brilliance (Active Cosmetology Career)

Spawn Refresh

Suite Life Hotel & Resorts

Use Residential Rentals shared areas as Community Lots (For the lot challenge traits)

CC Used

[All credits go to the following creators for sharing their work with the community. It is greatly appreciated and I hope that you all have endless nights of the best sleep ever.]

Helpful Tip: Having Only What is Needed For CC Builds (Tumblr)

Amoebae: Pile in Carpet

Awingedllama: Traffic Light 3

Charly Pancakes: The Lighthouse Collection (Books C + D)

Felixandre: Berlin Pt. 2 (Front Door), Chateau Pt. 1|2|3|4, Colonial Pt. 1|3, Estate Pt. 1|2|3 (CF), Georgian, Gothic Revival (Mirror), Grove Pt. 1|2|3|4, January 2018, London Interior (Cane Chair), Paris Pt. 1, SOHO Pt. 3|4

FlirtyGhoul: Minimart Pt. 1-11

GUA: Air Conditioners

Hamstebelle: Cyberpunk Food Stall (Simlish)

Hanraja: S015 (Shelf Gass Deep), S037 (Dining Sit Booth + Sit Dining 2)

Harrie: Brownstone Pt., Coastal Pt. 5|7, Klean Pt. 1|2|3, Octave Pt. 2, Spoons Pt. 1

HeyBrine: Jessie Livin’ Pack Pt.1, Le Bistro Pack (Tables), Nana’s Collection (Microwave), Noova Collection

House of Harlix: Kichen (Glasses), Livin’ Rum (Frame Tvs), Orjanic Pt. 2

JoyceIsFox: Summer Garden – Tiles Pack (Purity#1 Floor + Wall Tiles)

KiwiSims4: Blockhouse Hallway (Small Lamp)

Kta: Vogue Prints 1 (10s-20s) [Mesh Needed]

Lijoue: A Louer Collection (Fence)

LilacCreative: Keratin Collection

Lili’s Palace: Intarsia Wainscot Wonderland (Polished Marble Floor)

LittleDica: Deligracy Fridge, Roman Holiday

Max20: Happily Ever After (Dining Table Knot)

MintyJinx: Terrain to Floor Collection

Myshunosun: Lottie (Throw Blanket)

Nempne: Cover Sheet Ceiling Tiles

Peacemaker: Hinterlands Living Room (Pouffe), Hudson Bathroom, Vampire Add Ons

Pierisim: Auntie Vera Bathroom, Coldbrew Coffeeshop Pt. 3, Domaine Du Clos Pt. 2|3|4, MCM Pt. 1|4|5, Outside Lunch, Tilable

Ravasheen: CounterFit Mini Fridge, Elevator, Shop Chef

Severinka: Apollo Sofa (Right), Grocery Store Pt. 1|2|4

Simspiration Builds: Portuguese Floors

SixamCC: Hotel Bedroom

Sooky88: Horizontal Oil Paintings

Sundays: Kediri Pt. 1 (Throw Pillows- Solids), Pool Haus, Swell Pt. 1, Ungasan Pt. 2 (Slippers)

Syboubou: Hotel Luggage Trolley

TaurusDesign: Eliza Walk In, Judith Kitchen (Barstool), Lilith Chilling Areas Pt. 1

Tuds: Base Game Curved Windows, Beam Kitchen (Table 1x2), Ind 02|03, Vime Closet

Winner9: Malibu Pillow

Vehicles: Included

DO NOT REUPLOAD MY LOTS.

DO NOT CLAIM THEM AS YOUR OWN.

DO NOT PLACE BEHIND A PAYWALL.

DOWNLOAD (1.82 GB)

#simstorian #the sims 4 #sims 4 #ts4 #san myshuno #build #sims 4 cc build #cc build

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yellowf1nch · 27 days ago

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Warning: Minors do not interact. Sensitive content ahead. Includes stalking, attempts at psychological terror (as a writer)

Herobrine/reader

Note: this is not game canon-compliant, this is more a mix of game (Minecraft) + real world survival situation. Might indulge a steamy part 2. Apologies for writing/editing errors, sometimes my creative eye is in poor health.

You didn't know where it was you ended up. An endless forest, seemingly, but after awakening on the beach, the sole survivor of a shipwreck, you were counting your blessings while sunlight filtered through the leaves. You recall a storm, but not much else other than your name; and you have little more than the shirt on your back, and the few handfuls of food left from your ship's supplies. Not knowing where you were, the most logical step was wandering until you found either a trace of civilization, or somewhere viable for a temporary camp. So, you set out, trying to mind the wild animals as much as the brambles and pitfalls.

There was an immense anxiety that dove from the tip of your tongue down to the basin of your pelvic floor. A kind of unease-- how did I get here? How am I going to make it? What if I don't make it back- where is back? But it remained there, swirling among the acid and the foulness of your empty stomach-- bile and seawater emptied back on the morning sand. As the sun passed its zenith, shelter, and a means of passing the night, began pressing at the front of your mind. You paused for a moment, looking around.

Trees covered the entirety of your vision, though what little space breathes between them the odd fauna would pass into view. It was quiet, and no creatures seem to pass you too closely; for what are you but a stranger to their place, a foreigner to the wilds without name. A faint trickling catches your attention, pulling you from a standstill, and as you glance rightward, you spot the shimmer of water a short way off beyond the trees.

You find yourself on the bank of a sizable stream, trees continuing down both sides of the water, clay wedging between your feet. Aside from the moving water, you can't seem to spot any fish to catch for food.

Deciding to follow the water upstream, you are unable to rid yourself of feeling... lost. Perhaps you never left the storm, still being tossed between the waves, losing your sense of direction. Perhaps you are still asleep, the odd shapes in the corners of your eyes merely the strangeness of dreams. Perhaps... No. No, you'd know if you were dead, right?

...Right?

A bee buzzes directly next to your ear, making you realize how late it's gotten. You look back, your footsteps trailing behind you in the softer sediments and soils. In front of you, a neat stack of rocks. Looking around, there seem to be a few more of the small piles, which makes you very hopeful that you may be near a village or camp of some kind. The river sinks deep, about one meter below the bank you stand on, and a fallen log-- devoid of branches and leaves-- stretches the span of the two banks above the water. There are two more trees right along the opposite side that seem to be close to joining their friend; dead, maybe, leaning at odd angles with their leaves and branches gone.

Continuing along your bank, your feet a bit faster moving at the prospect of greeting a shelter for the night, perhaps a trader who can tell you where you are. A sign standing in the middle of no particular path, just to your left, pulls you to a brief stop. Not a language you can read, so you continue forward, but a toppling sound makes you freeze.

At your feet, another small pile of rocks. Smoothed, as if taken from the basin of the river, set in a square-- five by five on the bottom, then four by four, three by three, then the top few stones you accidentally kicked over on your route. Funny, you didn't see it before. But the sunlight is starting to fade between the lea--- no, no there aren't many more leaves. This... Must be a stretch of dead wood, or left from a wildfire. The sun has no leaves to hide behind, it's just sinking below the horizon. Well, that sign might have an arrow pointing to the nearest town...

Except the sign is... Blank. But, you could have sworn... It doesn't really matter. You are losing what little bit of daylight you have, and you need shelter. Sticks and logs are easy enough to gather, a simple lean-to against a sturdy enough looking tree, and a small fire you hope will make it through the first part of the night.

As the air cools, warmth from the ground creates a moderate fog around you. There's enough visibility out to 40 meters or so, though as the darkness creeps in that inevitably falters to about 10 feet from your fire. Distantly, you hear wolves howling, moans from the dead, and footsteps--

No, no. No one is near. Whipping your head around from what you thought were footsteps just to the right of your lean-to, you take note that you are in fact alone. It's just, quiet. Peaceful, really, if you don't let your nerves get the best of you. For some time, you sit, simply willing yourself to calm as your fire tapers out, and you turn to your shelter for sleep. Dreamless, almost meditative, is your rest, in that a kind of awareness remains around you. Conscious, only just. Walking, branches breaking, leaves crunching, is it you? When you notice dew clinging to your skin (or is it a cold sweat), you awaken, though you don't feel quite rested. It's dark, still, but the fog disperses the farthest rays of light, enough for shadows to be chased from the silhouettes of the closest ring of trees around you, and the sign...

...in the middle of where your campfire was.

Dawn creeps closer, the fog yet to lift from the world around you, and the pit of your stomach has entrenched itself below your feet, sinking down, down, a chasm that swallows you knowing that sign, being there, is impossible. Someone is here with you. It's strange. Bizarre. But if whoever this is wanted to kill you, surely they would have done it last night? The thought somehow doesn't bring you any sense of safety. Instead, you feel... Like if you turn around, you'll meet a pair of eyes not like your own. No, you- you turn, and no one, nothing, is there. Feeling like prey, in the middle of an open field, you wait completely still until it's light enough to set out. You lost sight of the river, and can't hear it, and the fog seems to extend as far as the sky so you cannot parse the position of the sun, or what direction it's rising from.

You find your feet, eventually, and make quick work of choosing a direction and moving as quickly-- and cautiously-- as you can to wherever you will find yourself. Glimpses of... Something... Flash in your periphery. Whatever it is (maybe signs of a migraine) a little too vibrant, seeing as no flowers seem to grow here. And sometimes your feet echo just a little too much, but you're just starting to panic, is all. Right, you're panicking. You're running. Panting. You can't even think to go faster, you just do-- is it enough? What if you aren't? You have to run. You aren't safe. You haven't been safe-- the ship, the storm, the sea, the river, the bank, the forest, the camp, looking around, around, around, around, when the fog begins to peter out.

Sunlight catches on shadows as the haze dances around you. Monolithic forms of land, slices of the world dredged up unlike any mountain you've ever seen. Porous caves weave between the masses, light catching unnatural angles-- but nothing about this is natural. A hand touches your---

No. You look around you, and no one is there. You begin the path forward, again, slower, if not for attempting to more concretely understand what world lies ahead. The fog remains, but is sparse enough for you to glimpse grass and trees flourishing in caves inside the sheer cliffs rising endlessly above you. Water pours from unseen peaks, straight down, down, down into an empty void you've never known to exist before. And still no... animals. No creatures, save yourself.

Is there... some way to climb? Can you climb in the condition you're in? What if- they?- it followed? With little else to do but somehow find a way through this place, you finally make your way to what may qualify as the foot as one of these land masses. The mist still wafts steadily, though you can make out enough details in your relative field of vision with minimal obscurity. The stone cliff face is practically sheer flat, no holds or ridges spaced well enough for you to climb without equipment. Looking left, then right, then upwards, you notice no structures either-- no stairs, ropes, buildings, or other.

It's strange, you don't- you don't quite feel alone. Well, you think someone is chasing you. Maybe taunting you. But it's not the feeling that someone else is there, rather... you look behind you, and for a moment, directly ahead-- not in the edges of your vision-- you saw it. But without blinking, it was like as soon as your eyes fully settled, it vanished. A chill claws its way one vertebrae at a time down your back, dragging over your ribs in some silent, haunting melody. You don't want to look away. Whatever is out there, what or who, you want to see them. See it. With the cliff behind you, it can't come from that direction. Right?

You start backing up, being mindful of the ground beneath you, arms extended ready to meet the wall. Back, back, back, the size of these land forms fully sinking in with how far you have yet to reach them, the forest of trees with no branches, no greenery, receding into fog. Back, eyes trained on the edges of the mist, waiting for another glimpse-- waiting for the glint of blue, of white, of whatever you saw. Back, darkness starting to close you in on all sides except forwards, ground firm beneath you, the slide of your feet on stone. Stone? Wait, you, when did you enter a cave? But, is this a cave? It's much smaller than the ones you saw, this one almost fits you perfectly. And... You weren't- this wasn't-- here before? But--

You turn to look behind you, down a tunnel that doesn't look like the kind that's naturally formed. In the distance, you think there might be some light, you turn back to look out of the tunnel and

See a figure staring back.

It's distant, but unmistakable. Out in the fog, static, like it's always been there, like an image seared into your mind that you cannot be rid of. You blink,

It's gone.

Turning back, down further into the tunnel, you walk as if in a haze. Maybe, if you don't make too much noise, you can slip through the dark unnoticed. Maybe, if you get through this place, you'll be okay. You barely find the need to sit and rest, adrenaline pumping strongly through your veins-- an unfamiliar sensation to you, being hunted. Leaning against the wall, you use it to support you moving, hopefully, to your salvation. Hours seem to pass, maybe a full day. Time feels skewed, what little rations you had before hardly served their purpose. Your head aches, your stomach aches, your legs and feet and eyes and a hand touches your---

NO. Swinging your arm out around you through air, you shout, batting away the contact that didn't happen, because NO ONE IS HERE.

Beleaguered as you are, eyes closing (squeezing tears of frustration from you), your back meets the wall and you slide to the stony floor. Harsh breaths meet your ears-- your own lungs are strangers to you. Every part of you seems disjointed, your mind trying to piece you back together from your fear, your right hand meets your face, your left your chest, and your knee... No. You place your right hand over your heart, your left on your mouth, and, a hand remains on your knee. Your eyelids are like the impervious bedcover, a shield such that what you cannot see, cannot see you. There is no sound but your breath. The third hand moves, fingertips gliding across you up to your right hand, over your heart, and it- it goes-- through your hand, but no further; resting inside it like you are its second skin.

#herobrine #herobrine x reader #x reader #stalker #dark #mdni #anticipatory terror

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