#Fic: Visitors From Another World | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

parfaitblogs · 2 months ago

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fresh out the slammer ❀ s. reid x reader

in which spencer reid comes home from prison, and needs to fulfil everything he has missed about you.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: smut & comfort (18+ mdni) tags: post prison!reid. soft dom!spencer. teeth might rot i was cringing during some of this. established relationship. the briefest of breast play because what do i hate? the word nipple! fingering. p in v. no protection is mentioned but imagine what you will. casual nudity afterwards. spencer's got bruises from prison. i lowkey forgot about his thigh wound until the very end. word count: 5.7k a/n: there's a completely different version of me in a world where i didn't write this. i hope she's doing well. i feel like i've been reborn. this is stupidly long LOL my apologies. pleaseee tell me if you liked this! or if you didn't! i love feedback! here's my monthly smut fic see you all in october!

Three months wasn't a long time, in the grand scheme of things. A quarter of a year usually went by too quickly for anybody's liking, the year sprinting through seasons until all twelve months were complete, and you were repeating it all over again. Usually. Three months without Spencer Reid, however, went by achingly slowly. And you hadn't originally considered just how agonising they could be.

Each day was another painful mirror of the last, waking up and going to bed with the same sense of dread in your stomach, oftentimes swallowing you whole and leaving you unable to do just about anything at all.

Living life without Spencer Reid was hard.

You saw him — of course you did. Despite his original efforts to keep you off the approved visitors list, Penelope Garcia had seen one glimpse of your heart shattered expression upon being told, and marched her way to the prison to slap sense into him. You weren't sure if that was metaphoric or not.

However, seeing him once every other week and living with him were two very different situations. You hadn't realised just how much you had depended on him always being there when you woke up in the morning until you were waking up to cold bed sheets and a pillow clutched petulantly to your chest in hopes of recreating the warmth only Spencer could provide.

And then he was free.

From prison, that is. You hadn't heard it all — information about his time in prison had been kept from you in an attempt to protect your own peace of mind. But you knew from at least the bruises he was always sporting no matter when you went to visit him, that something awful had happened to him in there, and his own brain would keep him imprisoned for as long as it wished.

But he was free.

And he was here, and you were staring up at his face littered with unkempt facial hair and a head of untreated curls, and regardless of everything horrific he had endured brewing behind his eyes, he was staring at you with the same softness he had before any of this happened.

Despite the beginning of a protest when you wrapped your arms around his torso, you hugged him, and he hugged you, and even the faintest smell of grime and blood couldn't stop you from gripping onto him with so much force you thought your knuckles would break.

"You're real," you whispered into his chest, muffled by it, and it shook beneath your face as he laughed, quietly. Beautifully.

"I am," he answered, and you could feel him crushing his own facial features into the top of your head, no doubt inhaling your shampoo. "You're real."

"Yes," you confirmed with a nod.

Maybe hours passed, perhaps only minutes. Whichever it was, you were still reluctant to pull away from him until he did, your face stained with tear streaks you don't remember shedding, his own eyes glassy as your gazes met.

"You don't want to talk about it, do you?" you asked him, walking backwards as you led him out of the doorway you two had been finding solace in, and further into the apartment space you were ecstatic to share together again.

"Not particularly," he answered, strides catching up to you and encasing your waist between his hands, tugging your body closer to his own. "Is that okay?"

"As long as you promise not to keep it in," you replied, teeth chewing into your lower lip in a contemplative habit.

"I have counselling at work," he said, and you nodded, your facial features softening only a little — you knew him well enough to know he wouldn't enjoy said counselling sessions. Breath tickled your lips as he leaned in a little closer, inciting heat onto your cheeks. "Any other questions?"

"No," you replied, your own lips twitching in amusement. "That's it. Why?"

"Because I haven't kissed you in three months," he murmured, "and I want to."

"Maybe," you said with a hum, and he said your name chidingly, eliciting a laugh from you. "Yeah. Okay."

To be honest, you had spent a few too many nights allowing your thoughts to wander and end up dreaming about what it would be like to kiss him again. Whether or not either of you would have the patience to be gentle and kind to one another. In those nights, you had decided you would be. Your heart cracking every time you thought of Spencer alone in a concrete cell that it left you with a gaping hole in your chest. All you really wanted was to hold him and remind him how adored he was.

Right now, you learned you wouldn't be.

There was a tenderness in the way his hands found your cheeks to cup, and there was a softness in his fingertips against your skin. Yet, everything he kissed with was anything but. Feverish and quick, swallowing you whole and inspiring a spark in your chest that resulted in you kissing back just as hungry.

Just when you thought there was nothing left to trigger within him, a squeak left your lips as the result of him tugging you impossibly closer, and he was beginning to walk you backwards, even further into the apartment, his kiss growing all consuming.

"Spencer," you said, breathlessly, jerking your head back, staring at him, waiting for him to realise you weren't returning your lips to his, and his eyes opened.

"What?" he asked, almost irritatedly. When he watched the slight flicker of hurt flash on your face at the tone, his own expression became gentler. "I'm sorry. Is something wrong?"

Immediately, you shook your head. "No. I just wanted to check how far you wanted to go," your hands travelled up to his hair, fingers scratching gently against his scalp. "I know there's a lot going on up here."

"Actually, right now it's just you," he said, tilting a head to the side to lean into one of your palms. "It's mostly you all the time. But right now you're consuming it."

"I make such an impact on your life," you quipped.

"I know you're teasing, but you do," he replied, fingers tracing up and down either side of your jawline, eyes searching each small detail on your face he had no doubt already memorised. "I survived in there for you."

"Oh."

Probably not the most eloquent response for the things he had just confessed, but truly your brain had scrambled within an instant, and you weren't sure what to say.

"Sorry," he said, hands stilling on your face. "To answer your question, I don't know. I really missed you."

"I know," you said when a gaping silence followed his words. "We don't have to."

"I think I want to."

Your eyebrows furrowed. "You can't think, Spence. You've gotta know."

"I've definitely said that to you before," he chided, thinking for a moment, before, "yes. I did. First time we had sex."

"Sue me for repeating important sexual advice to you, Spencer Reid," you huffed. He laughed.

"No, I mean, I do. Want to," he finally replied. "I'm really scared of hurting you."

"Do you want to hurt me?"

"No."

"Then you won't," you reassured him, despite knowing whatever doubt he had in himself would not be resolved just like that, and it'll probably eat at his mind for a long while. "And even if you do, I won't be upset with you." When his face scrunched and his expression mirrored judgement, you stammered to clarify. "Not in a kinky way. Don't look at me like that, Spencer. Stop it. I just meant I'll understand. And I won't be mad."

"Didn't take you to be into masochism," he mumbled, and you groaned at his selective hearing, dropping your forehead to his shoulder, that shook with his laughter. "Kidding, honey. I know what you mean."

"Not funny."

"It was a little," he countered, a hand reaching up to entangle within your hair to pull your head back, gently, so he could look at you again.

"Hi," you said when your eyes locked once more.

"Hello," he answered, his lips pulling into a smile. "I'd like to kiss you again."

"You've used up your kiss for the day, actually," you replied, sweetly beaming up at him.

"Quiet," he shot back, leaning forwards and allowing his lips to brush hesitantly against yours, eyes searching your own with an added hint of desperation. "Please?"

You pretended to think for a moment too long, because he was already mumbling something that sounded a little like 'brat', and pressed his mouth to yours once more.

You couldn't complain.

It was the same intensity as earlier, and yet there was something in it that differentiated the homesickness of the kiss from then, and the desperation now. Large hands — that you would probably allow to encase you whole — pathetically held your face lightly, hips knocking with yours as he walked you backwards and up against the back of the couch.

"Spence," you whimpered embarrassingly, hands clawing at the sleeves of his suit jacket, trialling and failing at tugging it off his body.

"I got you, sweet girl," he mumbled against your lips, not breaking the kiss for even a second as he helped you, shrugging the jacket off and allowing it to fall to the floor — something he will certainly chastise himself for later.

"Bedroom," you said, in between heavy breaths and feverish kisses. A request he was more than happy to comply to, for he had nodded, and you were instantaneously tugging on one of his hands in the direction of the room, his eyes fixated on your body as he trailed behind.

"Missed you so much," he murmured as he tugged you back towards him the second he had kicked the door shut, lips finding the corner of your mouth, then your jawline, then your neck, as he kissed down you.

"So you've said," you breathed out, tilting your head to the side as he gently nipped at the skin.

"Do you get off on being mean to me?" he chided, lifting his head to look at you again, and your heart stuttered.

"No. Just that dominance act that it brings out," you murmured, attempting to keep the mood light. Successfully so, for air huffed out of his nose as his lips twitched, fingers that had dropped to your waist squeezing it gently. In unresolved doubt, you added, "I missed you too. Don't worry."

"I'm not," he replied, and the weight lifted off your shoulders. "Lie down."

"So demanding," you teased, though his tone was anything but firm.

You were met with an unimpressed look, and you merely grinned back as you climbed onto the bed, sitting cross legged atop it, staring up at him expectingly.

Instead of moving over you like you had expected, he crouched at the foot of the bed, holding his hands out on the mattress in front of you. Needing no more than the simple gesture, you untangled your legs and stretched them out in front of you, and he tugged you down towards the end of the bed, breath hitting the skin of your thighs deliciously.

"I'm supposed to be making you feel good," you argued when his fingers trailed up the sides of your legs, finding the waistband of your pyjama shorts.

"Why?" he questioned, halting his movements as he searched your face.

"Because you're the one who just got out of prison," his face scrunched at the verbal reminder. "Sorry. But... yeah. I have thought about making you come the day you got home like daily."

"Oh have you?" his eyebrows shot up, and it was then that your brain caught up to your running mouth, and your cheeks heated up.

"Nope. Forget I said anything."

"No," he pushed himself up from the floor, moving his body over yours on the bed, successfully forcing you to lie back. "Tell me those thoughts."

"Spencer," you moaned, shaking your head as you buried your face into your hands, that he was a little too quick to catch and pry away.

"I'm not going to judge you," he said, amused. "In fact, I aspire to know every single thought there is up in that pretty head of yours. Especially the ones about me. Please tell me."

"I just thought about making you come. There's nothing more exciting to it."

"Yes, but how?"

"My mouth, I guess," you mumbled, voice going impossibly quiet. "I don't know."

"You're acting like you have never given me oral," he said, catching your gaze within milliseconds of you averting it, thumb and forefinger straightening your head again.

"Nobody says oral, Spencer. Say head," your own face now scrunched up.

"Lots of people say oral," he defended.

"Yeah, old people. We are not old people."

"Fine, you're acting like you have never given me head."

Despite it being a jab at him to take the heat off of you, the phrase coming out from his lips sounded exceptionally vulgar for what it was, and it only resulted in your stomach flipping.

Finally, you regained some control over your own thoughts, and you found it in you to reply. "That's what I want to do. Because I want to make you feel good."

"You underestimate how much I gain from making you feel good," he countered, fingers lazily caressing the skin of your jaw as his eyes studied your face with an intensity that had your stomach flipping.

"It cannot be as good as an orgasm," you huffed, stubbornly so.

He nipped at your nose. "It is."

"Can we compromise?"

"So you don't want me to give you oral?" his eyebrows rose.

In every other situation, you would not be fighting him on this. In fact, he would probably have already gotten his foreplay of teasing and teetering you on the edge out of the way by now, and you'd be well and truly content. However, the forefront of your mind was still plagued by how little time Spencer had to take care of himself, and the last thing you needed him to be was at your service. Despite his protests.

"Head," you corrected. "And no."

He searched for remnants of a lie for a few beats longer, before he nodded his head, giving in. "What's your compromise, honey?"

"I don't think there's a sexy way to say to just put it in me," you said, and his lips curled up into an amused smile, followed by a huff of laughter.

"No, I don't think there is," he agreed. "I do think anything you say can be sexy, though."

You pulled a face, and you shook your head. "No. Don't say that ever again either."

"I can't compliment you, I can't give you ora—head," he rattled off. "Is there anything good I get out of this?"

"You get to fuck me?" you batted your eyelashes up at him.

"Such vulgar language," he chastised, ducking his head when a hand of yours rose to swat him.

Despite himself, his head had dropped to the crook of your neck, and he had begun placing feather like kisses along the skin that distracted you just enough to drop your hand back to the mattress beneath you.

Any other day, and you'd probably still be bickering with him until the minute he made you come. However, three months without even the faintest of touches from him left you overwhelmed with everything he did to you, and so the gentle kisses trailing down to the collar of your shirt were enough to destroy any coherent thoughts you could have.

Cautiously, and with a touch so delicate, Spencer lifted your — his — shirt up your abdomen, fingertips leaving behind the warmest of trails as they skimmed along your skin. One quiet whine from you was all it took for him to hurry his teasing along, and soon enough your shirt was discarded.

A quiet, sharp inhale of air was the other sound aside from your quickened breathing, and you felt tears sting your vision as another kiss was placed just below your now exposed collarbone.

The time without you seemed to weigh nothing in his mind as he took every inch of you in separately, lips mapping out your body like it was the first time all over again, though still knowing exactly when to pause and pay attention to for the sweetest of sounds to be ripped from your throat.

He liked to hear you.

Fingers found your waist as his lips kissed down your sternum, then back up and over until they reached your nipple. He spent time on each breast, ignoring your impatient whining as he neglected the rest of you for a few minutes too long (in your opinion).

"Spencer," you scolded, and it was all it took for him to accept you were not in the mood to wait, and for him to decide he wasn't either.

"Sorry, honey," he replied, voice impossibly soft as he returned his lips to your face, a kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth as his fingers found your shorts again. "Can I take these off?"

"I think we're incredibly out of balance," you replied. And though there wasn't really anything wrong with the sentence — you had certainly said it before — he still pulled back, an unrecognisable grey clouding his eyes. "What?"

"I want to keep my shirt on," was his response, the words inciting confusion to your face.

"What? Why?"

"Do I need a reason?"

You wanted to scream that yes, he did. But did he? Wordlessly, you shook your head, but it didn't help the pang of worry in your chest.

"Unless there's something like an embarrassing tattoo, I'm not going to judge you," you decided to say instead. "Did you get an embarrassing tattoo in prison?"

"No," he shook his head, and you were comforted by the amusement in his tone. "I didn't have the best time in prison."

"I know," you replied.

"And I wasn't very liked. By the men in there."

You knew that too, to an extent. You knew the bruises on his face weren't self inflicted. "You're liked by me."

"I know, sweet girl," a heart shatteringly sad smile stretched across his face as a hand lifted to your cheek. "It just isn't very pretty. And I don't want you to worry."

Well, now you were. Regardless, you nodded your head, turning your head to the side so you could kiss the palm of the hand on your face. "I won't worry, then."

"I want to keep my shirt on. Can that please be okay with you?"

Silently, and after a debate inside your brain, you nodded your head. Gratefully, he pecked your lips once more, before his focus shifted back to you and your body.

"Shorts. Can I take them off?" he asked, again.

"Yes."

"Thank you."

His fingers collected the fabric of your shorts' waistband, and gently pulled them down your legs, cool air washing over you despite the final leftover article of clothing on your body. You shivered, and you could hear him mumbling nearly incoherent apologies as he kissed your stomach.

"These too?" he then asked, eyes flickering between your face for confirmation, and the pair of underwear you still had residing on your body. You nodded your head, and he pulled them down too.

You do not remember a time ever fearing being naked beneath Spencer Reid's gaze, and that did not change even now, as an arguably different man drank in your entire body, the love he had for you not having wavered despite the passing of time.

And you certainly did not fear the way one of his hands slid up your leg, seemingly soothingly, until it teetered on the edge of too far up the limb to be innocent, and he was intensely watching your face for every reaction you could possibly make.

Achingly gently, his middle finger ran up the centre, collecting arousal you hadn't realised was there and knuckle gently bumping your clit, eliciting a quiet mewl from you. You watched him smile at the sound, dragging his finger back down, gathering more of your arousal until he was pushing the finger in.

Your eyes fluttered shut, the feeling oh so familiar, and yet seemingly foreign all at once. Too long, you decided then. Three months is too long.

Leaning back down, his lips brushed your jawline, the otherwise odd sensation of there being something — someone — inside of you balancing out with the pleasure that came from the comfort of it being him. And of course the delicate circles his thumb had begun to draw on your clit.

"Did you do this while I was in prison?" he asked you, lips moving against your skin.

"Touch myself?"

"Mhm."

"Yeah," you said, voice breathless. "Was never good, though."

"No?" he asked, curling his finger inside of you and tugging a louder moan from your throat. "Why not?"

"Just never felt as nice. Not like you."

"Oh. I'm sorry, angel," he murmured, pulling his lips away so he could look at you again. Though, your eyes were still planted shut. "I'll make up for it then, yeah?"

You feverishly nodded your head, and he laughed. Fulfilling his promise, he sped up the motions of his finger and thumb, your hands grabbing ahold of fistfuls of the sheets, in hopes that it will provide some comfort from the overwhelming feeling of Spencer touching you again.

"Can I add another finger?" he asked, and though slightly hesitant, you nodded your head.

He waited a beat longer before fulfilling your request, and there was something obscene about how easily another finger entered you. Though, Spencer thought it was pretty, and your back arching was pretty, and yes, he had missed this and he had missed you and he was biting his tongue from telling you that all over again.

"Spencer," a delicately breathy whine left your lips when the heel of his palm collided with your clit — thumb long forgotten once he had gotten distracted with thrusting fingers in and out of you.

"Hm?"

Your eyes fluttered open to meet his, the kindest smile on his face reminding you just how much he adored you, and your heart sporadically beat in your chest. When you didn't say anything else, he quickened his ministrations, eliciting more whines and moans.

"Is two orgasms too much for tonight?" he asked you, the question seemingly innocent regardless of both it's undertones, and what he was currently doing to you.

In hindsight you should've probably said yes. It most certainly would've hurried things along to something he would enjoy as much as you. However, if Spencer Reid fingering you was a religion, you were an eternally loyal follower, and you would do anything to keep him there for as long as you could.

So you shook your head, murmuring a quiet, "No. I can do two," and allowing him to fasten his fingers once more.

Fingers found and massaged that spot inside of you he had probably engrained into his brain, and he was leaning down to swallow the loud moan that followed from the feeling. Practiced motions tore the same sounds from your throat as he repeatedly brushed up against it, until your eyes were forced to squeeze shut once more, and hands that were once seeking solace in the sheets, found his wrist and wrapped around it.

"I can't move if you're going to keep my arm locked up, angel," he said when your nails dug into his wrist, lips smiling against your skin.

A few short jerks of his hand convinced you to let go of the death grip you had on him, instead returning them to the mattress.

Then he was doing that motion again, and again, and you were silently praying he would never stop. Although, if your moans were any indication to where you were at — and they were — Spencer wouldn't.

Your hips bucking told him more than he needed to know, and the absence of his body above you when he lay down on the bed next to you was long forgotten when a splayed hand on your abdomen pushed you back down into the mattress, your heart stuttering at the feeling.

Gentle whines of his name, and a repeated mantra of 'please, please, please' was the only thing your otherwise dismantled brain could come up with, and Spencer was relishing in the knowledge that he was doing this to you. And though it is something he knows he's done before, it had been far too long since and the reminder was always welcome.

"I know, sweet girl," he said against you when your eyes came open and searched his desperately, walls fluttering around his fingers indicating just how close you were.

"Please don't stop."

"I won't," he confirmed, punctuating the promise with his thumb returning to your clit. He had your best interest in mind — you knew that. He now wouldn't stop even if you begged him to.

Overwhelming seemed too insignificant of a word to describe what you felt like when you came, nerve endings all over your body sparking, instead of just the ones he was stimulating.

His thumb rubbing circles and his fingers thrusting in and out of you didn't falter until your shaking body had stilled and your strings of moans had diminished, slowly coming to a stop and leaving your body — seemingly — as fast as they had entered.

The content smile on your face was interrupted with Spencer's hand lifting to your lips, and instinctively you parted them, already knowing exactly what he was after.

His middle and ring fingers entered your mouth, and your face scrunched up despite yourself as you tasted yourself on them. He laughed at that — of course he did — and pulled them out soon after.

"You do that every time," he murmured, hair tickling your skin as he placed open mouthed kisses over your shoulder, up towards your neck.

"It tastes weird," you argued, and his teeth nipping your skin told you he disagreed. Though, he wasn't in the mood to argue, for he didn't say anything else on the matter.

"Still got it in you for one more?" he asked you, pulling his head back so he could see you once again.

"Yes."

"Good."

Your eyes watched him even as he rolled back to take his pants off, and the awkward smile he gave you provided the inkling of comfort that there was still the man from three months prior in there.

"I really missed you, you know?" This time it was you saying it, piercing the air as his hand came down between your thighs to part them. The head of his cock nudged against you, brushing delicately through your folds and eliciting a quiet whimper from your lips.

"I know," he answered, pressing kisses on your shoulder once more. "Are you okay?"

"Me? Yeah. I'm fine," you confirmed with a nod, confusion crossing your features all up until you learned why he was asking.

A broken moan, choked and caught in your throat, left you when he painstakingly slowly pushed inside of you. There's not a lot going on inside your mind when he stops, your entire body aflame and equally desperate for more, as you were for him to take a moment here.

"I love you," he breathed out, the words hurried and encouraging your heart to speed up, and your mind to melt even more.

"I love you too," you said back, voice just as quiet, gently nudging hips ushering for him to move.

"Impatient girl," he muttered, but you smiled nonetheless because he did (move).

His thrusts were slow, and gentle, but you never truly minded how much time he took with you once you two were here. Even more so now, for you were on the same page as him, and you wanted to savour every single moment of this down to the second.

A whimper left your lips, followed closely by the desperate whisper of his name, and lips that were still resting against your shoulder smiled.

"I thought about this a lot," he said to you, his hand that was holding your thighs slightly open sliding up to find your clit. "I definitely shouldn't have."

"Why?" You knew why, but the thought of hearing him answer it aloud excited you a little.

Unfortunately, he knew you better than that. "Don't play coy. You know why, honey."

"You're cruel," you huffed, and he laughed, rolling his hips to meet yours, earning another moan. "Maybe I don't."

"Use that wonderful imagination of yours, then," he answered, rubbing your clit at the same time as he moved his hips once more, effortlessly rendering you unable to respond to him again.

A teenage boy probably could've lasted longer than the both of you, but you decided to blame it all on your already sensitive nerves from a prior orgasm, and the fact that Spencer Reid had not had you like this for over 2190 hours (not that he was counting).

Whimpers escaped your throat as he kept his hips thrusting into you at an achingly slow pace, while his fingers working on your clit did anything but. It was an aching juxtaposition that left you reeling for more, and Spencer was now the one shutting his eyes so he could hold onto some semblance of composure.

"Spencer," you pleaded, and it was a quiet moan from behind you that told you he was exactly where you were.

"I know, honey," he replied, the desperation in his voice jumpstarting your heart. "Need to come, yeah?"

"Mmhm," you nodded your head quickly, breathlessly moaning. "Please."

"You're going to. Don't worry. Don't need to beg, sweet girl."

Commingled moans and obscenely wet noises filled the air, and your hips stuttered as your stomach twisted into knots.

Chanting his name like a prayer, you meet him wherever your two souls go in that moment, and it's a shuddering feeling as you come at the same time as him. For the first time in forever.

His hand drops back to your thigh and he massages the muscles there gently, willing himself to stop before he crossed the line of overstimulation — not that you think you'd complain about that.

There was an emptiness when he pulled out, but then he was kissing you again to make up for it, and you were smiling against his lips as you kissed him back. This time, without the fever.

"How're you feeling?" he asked you, quietly.

"Happy," you answered, forcing your heavy eyelids open when he pulled back. "How are you feeling?"

"Also happy," he agreed, and your heart soared.

"Good."

"You need to go pee," he said, placing another kiss on your cheek, before he leaned his body away entirely.

"Help?"

Arguably, you could do it yourself. Your limbs were tired, yes, and your mind was melting, but you were coherent enough to brave it alone.

Thankfully, you didn't have to.

He carried you to the bathroom, running the bath water after you had silently begged him for it with your eyes (looking between him and the empty bath with wide eyes and a jutted lip worked wonders), and leaving you to pee.

"Are you getting in with me?" you asked him as wobbly legs akin to a fawn carried you over to the now full and steaming bathtub.

"Do you want me to?"

Hesitantly, you nodded your head, fidgeting with your fingers in front of you. "But you'd have to take your shirt off. So you don't have to."

He studied your face for a moment longer, before he nodded, and fingers expertly worked at unbuttoning down the shirt.

"I'm okay now. That's the important thing you have to remember, okay?" his words provided little comfort, but you nodded your head regardless.

You had a suspicion already of what sight you were going to be met with, but it didn't stop the guilt settling into your chest when the shirt fell to the floor anyways.

"Spence," you murmured, taking a hesitant step forwards, heart falling to your stomach.

Bruises littered the skin, some fresh and still purple, others nearly healed and yellowing. But there were so many, and it was then that you were swallowing the rest of him in with your eyes, catching the bandage on his thigh.

"What is that?" you nodded towards the covered wound, and when your eyes returned to his face again, he was staring at you with an unreadable expression.

"A lot happened," he answered, quietly, before repeating, "I'm okay now."

You nodded your head, tears stinging your vision for nothing more than your ridiculous amount of empathy. "Can you tell me about it?"

"I will," he promised. "Eventually. Just not now, okay? I haven't processed it all yet."

"Okay," you replied, and his heart shattered at the sight of a tear slipping down your face.

"Hey," he took ahold of your hand and tugged you closer to him, fingers running through your hair and resting at the base of your scalp. "I promise, honey. I'm not going to disintegrate from a few bruises."

"It isn't just a few," you answered, voice wavering. "There's so many."

"You have a heart too big for your chest," he decided to say instead, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. "Most of them don't even hurt now. Please believe me when I say I'm okay."

"I'm trying," your voice is thick with a sob caught in your throat. "I think I'm just really tired."

"Yeah," he crooned, agreeing. "Your body's released a lot of prolactin, which encourages sleep. Alongside the endorphins and dopamine that you're crashing from upon seeing this."

Wordlessly, you nodded your head, and he kissed the tip of your nose in an attempt to comfort.

"Bath, then we can sleep, and we can talk more in the morning," he listed off, and you merely nodded your head once more, sniffling and wiping your eyes.

"Okay."

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muffinpink02 · 5 months ago

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You Taste Like Vanilla

Okay, so this story went all over the place, it hasn’t really got a plot, it's just a lot of smut tbh. This is also my first Jenni fic and breeding kink fic, so good luck with that. I tried to make the strap sound as much like a strap and not an actual penis as I could.

ALSO! @lucyandalexiafan thank you for reading this 10x over! You are literally my co-editor at this point. Thank you always! You always have the best ideas and genuinely save me from throwing the whole story away. Thank you girly pop ❤️

Warnings - Smut 18 plus, strap, fingering, orgasm denial, breeding kink, strap ejaculation.

“Amor! Come on!” Jenni threw her keys in the bowl next to the door as you rushed in front.

“No! You never listen, Jenni!”

You heard your girlfriend huff in annoyance as she shut the front door. You were arguing, like any normal couple did. Could you remember exactly what you were arguing about? No… kind of, but it didn't make you any less annoyed.

You stormed into your shared bedroom. You knew Jenni would follow you in, she always did. She hated arguing with you, she was the calmer one in the relationship, always the one to try and put an end to any arguments you had, even if sometimes you were blatantly in the wrong.

“I do listen! You just go crazy, and then you don’t listen!” The Spaniard chuckled.

That's when you remembered why you had started arguing in the first place.

You had been out for dinner with Mapi and Ingrid. It had been a really nice evening, but of course right at the end Jenni had to ruin it. You and Ingrid were talking, while Jenni and Mapi were laughing about something, your ears pricked when you heard Jenni say your name and ‘pillow princess’ in the same sentence. Did you hear the full conversation? No. But you heard enough for it to aggravate you.

Would it annoy you if you were a ‘pillow princess'? No, of course not, but you wasn't one, you fucked Jenni just as much as she fucked you, and you didnt want people to think otherwise.

You came to a sudden halt, facing the tall brunette. “Maybe instead of trying to be a class clown you should just shut up!”

Jenni stopped in her tracks, now facing you.

“Clown? But you love it when I make you laugh cariño.” She purred.

Another talent of Jenni’s was to turn most arguments you had into heated sex. Not that you ever complained, she was very good at it. She’d fuck you sensless making you forget whatever it was you was ever arguing about. But right now you were angry. It would take more than her stupidly beautiful smile to have her way with you.

“I fake those laughs.” Your tone was laced with bitchiness.

Jenni threw her head back laughing. It made you shiver.

“You fake those laughs? I don’t believe you, babita. I always make you laugh, until tears are running down those cute cheeks.”

She cupped your chin, emphasizing her words, you pushed her off, but she didn't care, she only chuckled at your actions. It annoyed you that a simple laugh of hers could rile you up so easily. So of course you had to take it further. You took a step closer to the raven haired girl. Her eyes following you.

“Yeah, it's not the only thing I fake.” You smirked wickedly at the tattooed girl.

It was a complete lie, but you knew it would hit a nerve. Jenni was very confident in the bedroom and she had all the right to be. She was a goddess when it came to sex.

You had bedded your fair share of women in your time. You weren't a newbie to how their bodies worked, or how your own body worked, you were no stranger to self pleasure, your hand and other toys were a frequent visitor between your legs.

You wouldn't have said you were vanilla in the bedroom, you were open to many things, but it never really came up in conversation with your past lovers. The most adventures you had got was a blindfold here and there, or handcuffs now and again, but it never felt special, nothing that was out of this world. Until you met Jenni.

You had thought you knew your body, you thought you knew what you liked, and you thought you could only have 2 orgasm per night, but Jenni threw that idea completely out the window. She had finely tuned your body like her own personal instrument, bending and breaking it to new heights of pleasure. She introduced you to new things constantly, you had never truly known the word ‘satisfied’ until Jenni.

The atmosphere changed instantly. Jenni’s playful smile dropped, she stepped closer to you, her height giving her the advantage to look down on you, making you feel small. She gently laced her fingers around the back of your neck, holding you firmly in place. Though this time you didn't push her away. Her green eyes scanned your face, making you squirm under her stare.

“Is that so? You fake other things?” Her voice was low.

You swallowed on nothing, it vexed you that she was already making your body react. You had to at least try and act like she wasn’t affecting you. You needed to get some kind of control over the situation, you didn't want her to think she had all the power, even if she actually did. You kept your eye contact with her, and smirked.

“Y-yeah.” Fuck. So much for ‘taking control’.

Your voice was already shaky, and of course she heard it. Her wolfish grin creeped on her gorgeous face, it made your knees weak. The girl was like a bloodhound, she could read your body and mind like it was her own. The grip she had on the back of your neck tightened.

“I think you’re lying, bebita. I think you’re just trying to hurt me.” She licked her lips.

Ergh, it was a blessing and a curse that Jenni could have you swooning so easily. The grip on your neck moved to your throat, she gave you a gentle squeeze, wanting an answer from you but it earned her a small gasp instead. She raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow at you, waiting for a response.

“I’m not lying, you’re just not as great as you think you are.” You stated.

You were pushing it, but you knew if you did it would hopefully result in Jenni fucking you until you were begging her to stop. It was a typical cat and mouse game you both liked to play, but right now you were the mouse that was slowly losing control.

“I think you just want to be fucked? Hmm?”

And like the bloodhound she was, she caught you red handed.

Your face said it all, you stuttered as you tried to come up with a comeback, but you knew it, she knew it, you clearly weren't as angry or subtle as you thought you were.

I mean, if you thought deep enough about it you were probably never that annoyed in the first place. Yeah, maybe it pissed you off that Jenni was basically saying you were something you weren't, but you had already forgotten why you were annoyed before you got to your front door. You just wanted a reason to be pissed at Jenni so you could have angry make up sex.

“I see you have nothing to say? Cat got your tongue? Maybe that loud mouth of yours should be making it up to me.” Her lips curled into a devilish smirk.

Even though you could already feel your underwear becoming uncomfortably wet, you still wanted to be stubborn. Yeah, maybe she wore the strap a little more than you, and maybe she took more of the control during sex, but ...what were you angry about again?

Oh, right.

You rolled your eyes in disbelief. “Why would I do that? I’m a ‘pillow princess’ after all.”

Jenni looked confused for a second, then began to laugh loudly. It irked you.

“That is why you are angry? That was just stupid chat between me and Mapi. You know what she's like.”

That annoyed you even more, Jenni was clearly trying to look like the big ‘I am’ with Mapi. You didn't care that Jenni spoke about your bedroom antics, you both were very open and so was Mapi, but you did care if she was trying to make out that you didn't put in the work like she did.

“But I'm not a pillow princess.” You whined. Your eyes fell on the Spaniard's lips. “I don’t want people to think I don’t fuck you.”

She tutted, her stupid sexy grin widened, her voice was low. “Amor, come on. You love it when I take control and you don’t have to think about anything.” Her other hand pulled you by your hip, slotting your bodies together. “Even now, I know what you want. I know for a fact you are wet for me.”

Bloodhound.

Your mouth gaped open, you could feel the blush creeping up your neck, right under Jenni’s palm. She pulled her thumb over your bottom lip, she watched as your plump flesh stretched under her movements. She had you where she wanted you, she was the cat and you were the mouse between her teeth. And like the feeble mouse that you were, you nodded, giving in so easily. She continued.

“That's what I thought.” She purred as she finally brought her lips to yours.

She tenderly cupped your face, her lips pressed gently against your own. Jenni’s kisses always took your breath away, she kissed you like it was the first time everytime, soft and sweet. The taste of her mouth made your own tongue salivate, you always felt hungry for the girl, even if she did piss you off every now and again.

Her talented tongue danced across your lips, wanting entry, you opened your mouth willingly, giving her what she wanted, like you always did. You groaned as she stroked your tongue with her own, caressing your mouth with ease.

The taller girl pulled back, a playful smile spread across her face as she watched you needily chase her mouth.

“Would you like that? For me to take control?”

“Yes.” You nodded your head. Clearly all of your anger and self control had gone out the window, along with some self respect.

“Good.”

She brought her hot mouth back to yours, as she slowly unbuttoned your jeans and unzipped the clothing, distracted by her kisses you nearly missed the way she pushed her hand past the band of your underwear and into your now very wet fabric. You gasped as her long fingers cupped your sex, slipping her pointer finger in between your wet lips.

It was then her turn to gasp.

“Fuck.” She pressed her forehead against your own. “I haven't even touched you and this is how wet you are?”

You weren't sure if she actually wanted you to answer her. The girl only had to give you a certain look and you were putty in her hands, or wet in her hands…

Suddenly the hand around your neck snaked into your hair at the base of your neck, forcing your head backwards. You felt her warm hand leave your sex, as she abruptly pulled her hand from your underwear and pushed her wet finger into your open mouth.

“Tell me. Does this taste like someone who doesn't come?” Her tone was dangerous.

Your earlier comment definitely pissed her off.

You felt your cheeks blush from Jenni’s accusational tone. But it didn't stop the moan creeping from your throat as you tasted yourself on her fingers, your tongue instinctively lapped at her digits, cleaning her fingers of your essence.

“So eager.” She smirked as she felt your tongue glide along her fingers.

She delicately pulled her finger from your mouth, as she guided you backwards with her hand still holding your hair, your back gently meeting the wall. She didn't bother undressing you as her hand snaked back down into your underwear, pressing two of her fingers against your already swollen clit. Your hips jumped at her touch, your hands landed on her shoulders for support. You didn't want to get used to her godly touch, you knew she would move away eventually, especially when you got close to coming.

She kept her fingers between your legs, stroking your clit perfectly. The other hand in your hair, holding your face inches from her own, her mischievous eyes stayed on yours.

“Please, don’t stop.” Your voice was shaky.

The raven haired girl's smirk was dangerous. “Oh don’t worry baby, I'm not going to stop.”

It almost sounded like a threat, her tone was calm, yet also laced with something more than just lust, but with her fingers caressing you the way they were, you weren't in the right mindset to think about it. You just hoped she meant it, Jenni had a long history of edging you until you were begging, sometimes even crying to let you come.

Your moaning became loud as she picked up her pace, pushing you closer to your climax, your hips thrusted as you felt your body giving in to her. You couldn't stop the small gasps tumbling from your lips as her talented fingers were building you up with precise touches. It was actually embarrassing how close you already were, your body had become so accustomed to Jennis touches, she had you falling from your peak at a dangerously quick rate.

“J-Jenni.”

Your legs began to shake, your hands held her tighter.

“Sí, baby?”

“Kiss me.”

“No.”

You whined. But she only ignored your complaints, gripping your hair instead. You were scared to tell her you were close, scared that she would stop completely and pull her fingers away.

You thought if she kissed you, she might have gotten lost in it all and maybe just give you what you wanted. But she wasn't stupid, she knew your body, she could tell from every gasp and every moan that you were getting closer to the edge.

You gritted your teeth as you felt the heat rise up your spine, you could feel her green eyes watching you, she had a knowing smile on her face. You waited for her fingers to leave you, you were ready to beg for her, ready to be edged all night. Your eyes closed as you felt the start of your orgasm about to hit you, you couldn't stop your movements as you grabbed her wrist, so scared she was going to pull away.

But she didn’t.

She must have felt bad, as her lips were on your neck kissing you with a surprisingly gentle touch.

“Don’t worry, cariño. I’m right here.” Her laugh was soft, but teasing.

You were mumbling as you kept begging her not to leave you, begging to not to move her hand away. She was bringing you so much pleasure just from her fingers alone. You probably sounded so desperate, but you didn't care, you needed her.

And she did, she stayed with you.

She kept her fingers on you, stroking your bundle of nerves, you could feel your wetness coating her long fingers. Her lips traced your hot skin, her tongue exploring your neck like it was the first time. The whimpers you let out as she pulled on your hair was loud, Jenni knew how to work your body even with the simplest of touches.

You was so close, so fucking close, you tried to keep your moaning down to a minumum, biting your lip until it hurt. But she stayed.

You gasped as she brought you to your climax, your hips rutting hard as you came in Jenni’s hand. Your orgasm washed over your body, slumping you forwards. Your head laid against her chest, as her long fingers stayed on you, slowly caressing your folds as you came down from your high.

Your blissed out state was interrupted with a deep chuckle rumbling in your ears. You couldn't help but feel a little pathetic at how desperate you must have looked. How pathetically quick you were to let her have her way with you. How you came in her hand like a horny teenager being touched for the first time. Jenni’s free hand grabbed the back of your neck and slowly pulled you close to her face.

“Did you come baby? That was a little quick.” She faked a pout at you.

You nodded, not able to bring yourself to speak.

Her fingers stayed on your clit, stroking you gently, you tried to move away but she had you pinned against the wall, her tall body pressing up against your own, you were still sensitive, but she followed your movements.

“Jen, I-I can’t.”

She tutted “What's wrong baby? You told me to not stop.” Her tone was alarmingly calm,

She was clearly trying to prove a point. You could have kicked yourself for the way you begged her to not stop, you had no self control when it came to the 5 foot 9 Spaniard.

And you still didn't, even though you were sensitive you didn't want her to leave you. She had trained your body to take more, and she knew you would.

Her face was so close to yours, her breath tickled your lips as she kept her fingers circling your bundle of nerves. She was beaming at you, she looked so happy with herself, so pleased with how quickly she made you come, how you begged her not to stop.

Her hand was still between your legs stroking your wet folds, you couldn't stop the way your hips began to follow her hand, the overstimulated feeling melting into a need for the girl.

“Oh, so you do want more?”

You nodded, almost like you were defeated.

“But I thought you wanted me to stop?”

The teasing in her tone made you want to roll your eyes, but you didn’t, you weren't sure what Jennis' plan was, you were still shocked she allowed you to have your first orgasm, you weren't about to ruin it if there was a chance she would give you another one.

“You want more?”

“Yes.” You groaned

“Where's your manners, baby?”

This time you couldn't hold the eye roll.

“Please.” You tried to hold the attitude back, but it still came out in your tone.

“Hmm, not good enough.” She softly chuckled in your ear, her fingers began to slow down.

Your hips desperately bucked as you lost the friction. You had to give in to what she wanted. The girl was like a dog with a bone. So, you tried again.

“Please, Jenni.”

“Sorry, I couldnt hear you. Say it again.”

You gritted your teeth, your pride slowly dwindling.

“Please, Jenni. I need more.”

Her fingers picked up to a faster pace but was still agonizingly slow. She was so calm with her touches, her mannerisms were controlled to a T, meanwhile she had you melting into her hand, desperately grinding into her digits, begging her again for more of her. The girl literally had you in the palm of her hands.

Her lips began to kiss your neck again, making your whole body shiver. “Say it again.”

You let out a sigh of frustration. “Jenni. Fuck, please, just give me mor-”

You were cut off when two long fingers easily entered you.

“Fuck!” You gasped at the sudden intrusion.

You felt her lips smile against your skin. “You’re so easy.”

You wanted to argue that you weren't easy, that you could freely push her away and get on with your evening and not think about the way she made you beg for her, but that would be a lie. All you could do was moan and beg her once again to not stop, as she fucked you hard against the wall.

You whimpered as her teeth sunk into your neck, her tongue gently swiping over the already red mark. She littered your neck with wet kisses while her fingers plunged into your core, pulling the desperate moans from your lips, your hips meeting her deep thrusts.

You closed your eyes as Jenni built your pleasure back up, her fingers pushing on your walls as she coaxed that beautiful feeling she did everytime she was inside you. You caught her green eyes staring at your mouth, scanning your face, she finally kissed you as her eyes met yours, making your insides jump.

You were close again, you felt the heat travel from your lower half through your body.

“You’re close. Should I let you?”

Of course she already knew.

“Please!” You cried.

“I don’t know.” She chuckled lightly against your cheek.

“No, please Jenni. Please.”

“Dios, you’re so cute when you beg.” She kissed your lips hard.

But you couldn't return it, not when her thumb started to circle on your sensitive clit, making you groan into her mouth. Your head fell against the wall, her hand still had a grip on the back of your neck. You didn't have time to enjoy her touches for long as your orgasm came crashing over you.

Jenni groaned as she felt your pussy squeeze around her fingers, shaking against her firm body. Her cocky smile returned as she grabbed your face, forcing you to look at her. She slowly removed her fingers from you, bringing her wet digits to her mouth, sucking on your juices.

“Another one?”

You heard what she said but your head was foggy. ‘Another one?’ Surely not? You could still feel the pressure of her fingers inside your empty pussy, your essence dripping down your thigh was evidence of that. You couldn't go another round, not so soon anyways.

“I can’t.”

“No?” She gently kissed your lips.

You shook your head, still trying to catch your breath. You fixed your eyes on her face, her wolfish smile made your heart flutter for many different reasons.

“Okay. I'll be nice, you get one break. Then we go again.” She whispered against your lips.

You shivered at her words, you were thankful for the break but her words made your stomach flutter.

“Come.”

Your shaky legs followed her as she moved you both to the bed in the middle of the room.

“You can have a break while you're between my legs.”

This was the Jenni that made you crumble, the Jenni that made you do and say whatever she wanted, no questions asked.

“Strip first.” She demanded.

You did what you were told, Jenni watched you like a hawk, you could feel her eyes roaming your body, she watched as you took each bit of clothing off, dropping it to the floor.

She licked her lips as she shamelessly eyed your naked body. She placed her hand on the top of your head, silently telling you to get on your knees, you slowly kneeled in front of the 5 foot 9 girl, never taking your eyes off of her.

“Buena niña.”

Jenni unbuckled her jeans inches from your face, dropping the clothing to her ankles, the sound of the metal on her belt made your core clench. You bit your lip as you noticed the dark damp spot in her boxers.

Jenni was in complete control. It made your head dizzy at how quick she switched up the dynamic. One minute you were arguing, the next she had you on your knees, about to eat her out. Her long fingers stroked into your hair, softly scraping against your scalp. It sent a shiver down your naked body, making you even more aware that she was still half dressed.

“Take them off.” She instructed.

You brought your hands up to her boxers and pulled the fabric down her strong thighs, to her ankles. Her slick essence glistened at her entrance, making her pussy look even more inviting.

She unbuttoned her shirt, revealing her abs, flexing them as you watched her. You couldn't even be annoyed, you loved it when she was cocky, it's what drew you to her in the first place.

“My eyes are up here.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

You scoffed but couldn't hold back the small giggle, she was right when she said she always made you laugh.

She sat down on the edge of the bed, leaning back on her elbows. Her shirt sat open, her tight stomach flexed, she looked like a frat boy, with her cheeky smile plastered on her face. It made you want her even more.

“Come on. Let's get that pretty bitch mouth to work.” She smiled wickedly at you.

The fingers in your hair brought you closer to her core, pushing your face until your lips met her lips. Jenni moaned softly when she felt your tongue finally glide through her velvety folds.

“There she is. There's that pretty mouth.”

You moaned against her, the Spaniard's hands gripped your hair tighter as you flicked your tongue over her clit. The girl had full control of your movements, her large hands held the back of your head as she bucked her hips into your mouth. You placed your hands on her thighs for something to hold on to as her movements became faster. You loved eating Jenni out, she always made the filthiest groans when you had your mouth on her.

“Put your tongue inside.”

You nodded, you stretched your tongue out as far as your could in the position you was in, you gently eased your tongue inside her walls and began to fuck her, with Jennis help.

“Mierda. That's it.” She grunted.

Jenni opened her long legs wider, giving you more room to explore her. She grinded her hips deeper into your mouth, fucking herself with your tongue, you could feel how wet she was, her juices began to cover your mouth and chin. You let out a deep groan, knowing it would vibrate perfectly against her walls, and you were proven right when you heard her whimper above you.

“Your mouth is so perfect. Suck now baby.”

You couldn't hold back the smile that crept on your face at Jennis words, you loved when the taller women praised you, and she knew you loved it too. You removed your tongue from her tight walls and laced your lips around her sensitive clit, sucking on the bundle of nerves.

“Sí, just like that.” She husked.

You watched as her eyes closed and her mouth gaped open, her hips rocked more gently this time, allowing you to work your mouth the way she liked. You were completely entranced by the woman above, your eyes followed her body as her abs flexed from each small roll of her hips, using your mouth for her own pleasure.

You stayed like this for a while, until you felt Jennis' strong legs start to shake under your touch. You could tell she was getting close, the grip in your hair became tight as she held your head in place. Her breathing began to pick up, you moaned as you felt a whole new gush of wetness flood your mouth.

The girl looked down at you upon hearing your moans, she smirked when she caught your eyes, sending a wave of heat between your legs, you knew you were going to be her fuck toy tonight just from her smile alone. She removed one of her hands from your hair and moved your head back slightly. She placed her hand between her own legs, pulling her wet lips apart with her long fingers, exposing her swollen pink clit.

“Make it up to me. You know how I like it.” She whispered.

You were pushed back between her legs before you could say anything. You gently nibbled at her exposed clit, as your lips stayed around her flesh, giving her pussy the perfect suction. Jenni groaned as she began to fuck your face, you could hear her panting harder as you flicked fast strokes on her clit.

“Don't stop, don't stop.”

Her legs shook and her muscles flexed under your palms. Your eyes squeezed shut as she held your hair painfully tight. Your head was pushed right into her core, you struggled to breath as the girl came quietly in your mouth. Your tongue was flooded with her essence, you swallowed all that you could. You went to move your head back but her grip stayed on your hair.

“No, baby, Don’t move. Stay.”

You stayed liked she asked, keeping your tongue on her, gently kissing and sucking on her velvet lips. Her body jolted from your gentle touches. You stayed like that for a little while, your neck began to ache but as long as Jenni felt good you didn’t care.

She let out a long raspy sigh with your name falling from her lips. Her hand released your hair, she gently smoothed her hand over the area she pulled, knowing she probably hurt you in her height of her pleasure.

“So good, baby.” She sat forward, her face inches from yours.

You panted up at her, your lips and chin soaked with her juices. She cupped your face kissing you, sucking her own juices from your swollen lips.

The raven hair girl gave you one last deep kiss before she moved away. She removed the rest of her clothing, making you both naked. Even though you had already came twice, your own pussy was throbbing to the point that it hurt. You needed Jenni to touch you again, you needed to feel any kind of contact from the girl.

“Stay like that. I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise? What surprise” You tilted your head.

“You'll see.” She winked.

‘A surprise?’ Excitement ran through your body at the prospect of a surprise, you tried to rattle through your brain with what it could be.

Jenni moved over to your special draw, looking for the new toy she brought without your knowledge. The girl always had something up her sleeve, she loved to surprise you with new things. You could see she was messing around with something, you spotted the plastic dick in her hand then you heard a squirting kind of noise.

You watched as she pulled up her harness with a new strap attached, it was a little thicker than your usual ones, but your cunt only ached seeing the girthy strap between her long legs. She sauntered over to you, a very cocky smirk on her face.

“Open.”

You opened your mouth and looked up at the taller girl, her eyes were full of lust. Having you in this position was one of Jennis biggest turn ons. She loved having her strap in your mouth as she watched you obediently suck on the plastic. She held the bottom of the strap placing it on your awaiting tongue. Even though you weren't complaining with the set up, you were a little confused, you had done this countless times before, so it wasn't really a new, or a surprise.

Jenni watched your face as she slowly eased the strap into your mouth, then back out again.

“Do you know what this is?”

“A new strap.” You blinked at her.

Her smile widened. “Sí, but what kind?”

You looked at your girlfriend with confusion. Why was she asking you 21 questions when your brain was fogged with nothing but pure hornyness?

She stroked your cheek gently. “It's the one you told me you wanted. Remember?”

Then it hit you. It was around 2 weeks ago when you and Jenni were looking at sex toys online.

—--

“Oh this one you can ejaculate with.” You pointed at the screen.

Jenni smiled at your excitement. “You like that kind of thing?”

You suddenly felt a little embarrassed, Jenni’s words didn't hold any judgement, but it wasn't something you had spoken about. Not that kind of kink anyways.

The raven haired girl noticed your demeanour in a heartbeat.

“Nina, don't be shy. It's hot. I like it.” The taller women purred in your ear.

“You do?”

Jenni clicked on the toy looking over the information.

“Sí, I could get you pregnant.” She smiled playfully at you.

The words alone sent a shiver through your body, the thought of actually having Jennis children made you feel fuzzy.

“Would you like that? Me getting you pregnant?”

You nodded your head, your heart fluttered. “Y-yeah, I’d like that.”

“Hmm, of course you would.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

Before you could purchase the toy, you and Jenni had gotten distracted. The talk of getting you pregnant riled up the Spaniard more than you would have thought, so you ended up on your back with Jenni on top of you, three fingers deep. But you weren't aware she had purchased the new toy.

—--

“I didn't know you brought it.” You stared up at her.

“How could I deny you anything?” Jenni stroked your swollen lips.

You kissed her thumb, smiling against her skin at her soft words.

“Keep your tongue out for me.”

You stuck your tongue out like she asked. You noticed her fiddle with something on the side of the strap. You couldn't see what she was doing, but her face was brimming with excitement.

“Ready?”

You felt her hand tighten on your hair as you nodded. She pushed herself back inside your mouth, then slowly began to pull back out, you groaned feeling the strap drag leisurely across your tongue.

Then you felt it, your eyes closed from the shock but you didn't move away, not that you could with the grip Jenni had on your hair. You felt a squirt of liquid cover your tongue, your taste buds instantly made your mouth water at the sweet familiar taste of vanilla.

You looked up at Jenni, who looked at you in complete awe. Her mouth was gaping as she watched the white sugary substance coat your tongue. She dragged the strap to the tip of your tongue, watching the liquid drip into your mouth. You moaned as the edible lube took over your senses. Of course the girl went a step further to get the edible kind.

And you loved it.

“Swallow.” She husked.

Jenni moved the strap away from your mouth, just barely touching your lips, her hand still had a grip in your hair, the other hand gripping the strap. You kept your eyes locked with hers as you swallowed the sweet vanilla liquid.

“How lucky am I to have a girl like you.” She whispered.

Even when she had a strap inches from your face, the girl knew how to make you melt with her words.

She tilted your head back as she nudged the strap back to your swollen lips. Your eyes closed as you felt the plastic slide down your tongue and into your throat. You heard the taller girl groan as your mouth took her in. You relaxed your throat as best as you could, as the strap began to constrict your breathing.

Jenni wasn't rough, she was going slow as she pumped her hips into your mouth. Her fingers laced through your hair sweetly, just stroking it back as she watched you lovingly.

“You're so perfect.”

You groan as you look up at the 5 foot 9 woman. You loved the way she praised you, it was always sincere, and her tone was always soft. Her eyes roamed your face, looking at you like you with nothing but love, her smile alone made your head swell. Jenni could be a rough lover, and be dominating but there was something so soft and sweet that she possessed in her energy, like she would never hurt you. You trusted the girl to no end.

Her hands tugged gently at your hair, helping to guide your mouth up and down her thick strap. You choke a little as another small squirt of the vanilla liquid hits the back of your throat, she pulls your head back, letting you breathe. You take a few deep breaths before she's pushing herself back into your mouth.

“This mouth is all mine, isn't it baby?” Jenni whispers.

You nod as best as you can. Your eyes squeeze shut as her hips pick up a faster pace, you could feel your wetness sticking to the very top of your thighs. You hold on the her long legs to give you something to hold onto as she gently fucks your mouth.

Your spit mixes with the vanilla cream, as it starts to dribble out your mouth and down your chin. You can’t stop the whimpers as she caresses your head gently. Your cunt spasms at the contact. You want her to use the strap on your so fucking badly.

She may have read your mind as she gently pulls the strap out of your mouth. You both watched as your spit sticks to your swollen lips, breaking away from the tip of the plastic head.

The look Jennis gives you is like no other, her eyes are full of lust but also more, want? Adoration? Love?

“Come.”

She puts her hands out for you to take, helping you to your wobbly feet. She cups your head, bringing your ear to her lips.

“Your break is over.”

She gently bites at your lobe, making your breath hitch. You watch as the girl sits on the end of the bed, patting her thighs. You can already feel your cunt throbbing. Jenni leans back like she did before, that cocky smirk of hers creeping on her face.

“Sit.”

You didn’t need to be asked twice, you moved over to the raven haired girl, you straddled her hips, her new toy sat between you both.

“You’re going to ride me, sí?”

“Sí.”’ You nod your head, already feeling your clit strain at the view in front of you.

“Llevame.” She smacked your bare arse, biting her lip.

You hold back the gasp, not wanting to give into Jennis frat boy behaviour, but you would be lying through your teeth if you said it wasn't your favourite kind of Jenni.

You grabbed the base of the new toy, raising your hips to guide it to your core. You could feel Jennis gaze on you, watching your movements. She licked her lips as she watched the tip of the toy start to slowly press into you. You groaned as the strap started to stretch you in the most delicious way. A warm hand landed on your waist, helping you to move lower on the plastic.

You could feel Jennis' restraint, you could tell by the look on face that she so desperately wanted to push her hips up and make you take her completely, but she’s smooth with it, she meets your slow pace, your thighs touching hers, as you finally bottom out on top of her, biting your groan back.

Your hand lands on her abs for balance as you get used to the feeling of her inside, the size isn't what's taking your breath away but more with how Jennis watches you. She looks like she wants to fuck you into next week. A small roll of her hips brings you back to the present, the small groan you tried to hold back finally escapes your lips.

“Ready?”

Instead of verbally answering her question, you gave out a hard roll of your own hips, and by the sounds of it you must have hit the right spot on the Spaniard, as her head tilted back, letting out a small grunt. Both her hands grip at your waist wanting you to move again, and you did. You slowly began to move your hips, effortlessly rolling your waist against Jenni, as she watched you take her strap.

Riding Jenni was always a confidence booster. The Spaniard wasn't a loud lover, she was never theatrical or over the top, but whenever you got the chance to ride her, you took it, (with both legs spread). It was the only time the girl really let her noises come to life, she would moan, groan, and even make the cutest rough whimpers that made your cunt spasm. Not to mention the way her green eyes roamed your body as her mouth gaped open, mesmerised as you snaked your hips with ease. Just like she was doing right now.

Jenni’s hips rolled in time with yours, her strap stroking against your walls with her precise movements, her abs flexing hard under your palm. Having already had the two orgasms you were sensitive, but your need for Jenni was impossible to ignore.

“Mas rapida.” Jenni husked.

You did what she said and picked up your pace, flexing your hips faster against her, she let out a deep groan as you rubbed the base on her clit.

“Sí, just like that. Mierda.”

She slapped your arse, causing a small squeak to leave your mouth, she repeated the movement, making a cracking noise bounce off your cheek, you couldn’t hold back the gasp this time, your skin felt like it was on fire.

Jennis hips started to buck harder inside you, your head tilted back as you took her deep thrusts, fucking you from below. Her hands squeezed your arse cheeks, pushing you down as she drove up, making you moan out her name. Your eyes closed at feeling Jenni control the movements, even though you were on top she was still in charge.

“J-Jen, you’re so deep.”

“Sí, you take it so well, amor. You're so good at taking me.”

You nodded, your hips grinding desperately against her, chasing your orgasm.

Her hand on your waist moved to your stomach, sitting just above your mound, you jolted as you felt her thumb just barely start to stroke your clit. You tried to bite back the groan that erupted from your throat, but it only made the Spaniard chuckle.

She hummed as she looked between your bodies, watching you flex against her hand.

“You can hold it.”

Before you could ask what she meant you were being twisted, your back hitting the mattress below. You keened loudly as Jenni became deeper inside you, she settled between your legs, the new position forcing herself deeper in your already tight walls.

“Jesus. Jenni.” You groaned, her hips were already pumping in between your legs.

“You’re going to wait for me.” She grunted in your ear.

Jenni intertwined your fingers with her own, pushing your hand above your head. You whimpered at the new turn of events. You were already so close to your climax you weren't sure you would be able to hold on, especially when she uttered her next words.

“You want me to get you pregnant?”

Your mind was already turning to mush, trying to concentrate on not coming, now the love of your life was asking if you wanted her babies mid stroke. But somehow your brain formed the words.

“Yes.”

Her hips sped up.

“You want to be a Momia? Carry my children?”

Your body rocked into the mattress below as Jenni chased her orgasm, fucking your body like she was on a mission. Making it so hard to think of the words you wanted to say.

“Yes. So bad!” You groaned out, your legs wrapped around her waist, pulling her deeper. She groaned as her clit rubbed against the strap's base.

“Fuck! I want to put my baby in you. I would.”

Her words were soft as she kissed your neck, it felt so much more sensual then it did before, your heart fluttered as her breath ghosted your neck.

“I want your babies, Jen.”

“You want me to come inside you? You want to have me inside?” She grunted in your ear.

“Yes! I want that. I-I…fuck. I want your babies.”

“Say it again.” She kissed your neck.

“I want your babies.”

“Again.”

Your free hand scratched down her back, definitely leaving a mark.

“Please. G-Get me pregnant!” You cried out.

“Come with me, cariño.”

Finally, with Jennis' permission, you allowed your body to succumb to the pressure that was burning every nerve in your body. Your cunt clenched around her strap, as she drove her hips repeatedly into you. Your moaning broke out into a high pitched cry as your third orgasm of the night shook hard through your body, your free hand threaded through Jennis raven coloured hair, just needing to feel her as you tried to catch your breath.

Jenni was only a few thrust behind you, but it didn't stop you from gasping as her hips bucked hard, dragging out your orgasm. Her free hand fiddled with the strap. Then you felt it, the lube being squirted inside you as Jenni let out a guttural groan in your ear, rutting her hips between your thighs, her own orgasm taking over.

Jenni gently grinded her hips, rocking out her last bit of pleasure against you, coming to a slow stop, her hot breath making your neck wet. You knew you weren't pregnant, you understood that this was just role play and it was just a flavoured lube running down your lips, but the overwhelming dreams of actually getting pregnant by the Spaniard took over your brain, wishing you could hold her baby. She kissed you gently, your eyes closed on feeling her, bringing you back to reality.

“You’re perfect.” She ghosted your lips, closing the gap, nearly taking your already struggling breath away. She pulled back, taking in your fucked out blissful state, smiling at you with the biggest grin you had ever seen.

“So you are my baby mother?” She wiggled her eyes and kissed your lips.

You laughed breathlessly, even in the height of pleasure like the earth rattling orgasm she just gave you, the girl was always ready to be the clown that you adored.

“I guess I am.” You ran your fingers through her hair.

She gave you one last kiss before she gently pulled out. Jenni couldn't help but watch as the sugary liquid dripped from your core, dribbling down the bottom of your lips and onto the sheets. Her mouth instantly watered at the sight before her, she bent down over your body, her lips ghosting your stomach, your skin prickled with goosebumps at her touch. Your body was still thrumming from your orgasm, she began to gently bite at your skin, crawling down your stomach.

“Jenni, there's no way I can take anym-”

Your words were cut off as you felt Jenni’s tongue glide through your lips, gathering the sweet flavoured substance.

“You taste like candy.” She hummed between your legs.

You gasped as her lips started to suck on your overly sensitive clit. You gripped at her hair, trying to move your body back.

“Jen. I can't take it.”

Your breath caught in your throat as her green emerald like eyes searched for your own. She lifted her head up.

“But babita, I told you, your break is over. We keep going.” She ducked her head back between your legs, her tongue pushing into your core.

“Jesussss.”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your skull as she began to fuck you with her tongue, you were so sensitive you could feel everything. Her hands gripped at your thighs forcing your legs open, taking what she wanted from you.

You both had a safe word, you were never scared to use it if you needed to (you had only used it once when you had got a cramp) So if Jenni thought for one second that she had to stop she would, or if she heard you use the safe word she would stop immediately.

And even though she had just given you your third orgasm of the night, you couldn't lie that having the Spaniards tongue buried deep inside your tight walls was a sensation that you just couldn't deny yourself. You tried to breathe through it, as she buried her head between your legs, thankful she started at your least sensitive area.

She stayed there a couple minutes, allowing your body to get used to her presence once more. Your head was dizzy but you gave into the sensation of her tongue. Your hands threaded through her hair, trying to have some control over her movements, you bit your lip as you heard her sigh from feeling your touch, Jenni loved her hair being touched, especially when she was between your legs.

Your brain short circuited as her tongue slowly stroked up through your folds and pressed to your clit, ever so softly flicking at the erect nub. You breathed through the sensation, slowly feeling the hot liquid melt through your body, making your muscles feel warm and light. It was too much and too little at the same time, and it felt so fucking good.

Your hips started to grind against her mouth, your fingers scraping at her scalp, your body now becoming desperate for her. You nearly lost it when you heard the girl lapping loudly at your sex, your essence having mixed with the vanilla lube, making your core wet. She made the most filthy groans as she ate you out, making you whimper in turn, the room filling with her the most pornagraphic noises.

The raven haired girl stopped her movements, bringing her mouth away from your pussy, replacing her tongue with her thumb, just barely touching your clit. You looked down to see why she had stopped, her wet mouth was smeared with the vanilla lube and your juices, dripping from her plump lips.

“You want to come, amor?”

“Yes. Please.” You breathed out.

A whole new wave of pleasure hit you as Jenni spoke to you, your legs started to shake, ready to take another orgasm, and Jenni was more than happy to get you there. But not before she made a point.

“This will be your fourth one, no?”

“W-What?”

She tutted, she sat up slowing her movements down, but her thumb stayed circling your clit, her wolfish smile creeping on her wet lips.

“This will be your fourth orgasm, sí?”

“Yes. My fourth.” You whispered.

Why the fuck was she asking this? You loved the girl, but right now all she had to do was look pretty while she ate you out. That's all you needed.

“So, I do make you come?”

“You do.” You agreed.

“Ahh so I can stop now?” She began to move her thumb away from your clit.

“NO!” You grabbed her hand, pushing it back to your sex. “Please Jenni, please don’t stop. Please.”

Her smile turned serious then.

“So you were lying?”

“Yes.” You nodded.

“I always make you come?”

“Fuck, yes Jenni. You always make me come.”

Your ever growing orgasm was starting to trickle away.

“Of course I do.” She scoffed. “I know this pussy better than you. Don’t I? You’re so close now aren't you?”

“Yes! You do. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please, Jen. Don’t stop.” You gritted your teeth, your hips grinding on her hand, trying to get that release.

She let out a deep chuckle before her mouth finally went back to your core, your hands gripped at her dark hair, moaning as she suckled on your clit. Once again the girl had you at her mercy, begging her to let you come.

Your mind went blank as your fourth orgasm of the night swept through you. You let out a deep moan that erupted from the depths of your throat, then complete silence followed as tears trickled down your cheeks, and a hot buzz took over your body. Jenni easily held you down as you bucked from the overwhelming pleasure, keeping you in place.

One hand gripped the head board as the other stayed on Jenni. Your hips rolled as the last jolts of your climax pulsated through your clit, inside your lover's lips. Your body finally let go, your muscles un tensed as Jenni’s name fell from your lips over and over again. You could hear the Spaniard was saying something, but all your ears could make out was the thumping of blood as it rushed through your head.

Jenni climbed over your body, her wet lips pressing against yours, you kissed her back weakly, still trying to catch your breath.

“Well done, babita. You did so well.” She stroked your tears from your cheeks.

“Fuck Jen.” You chuckled.

A comfortable silence fell over the pair of you. You nearly started drifting off, until Jenni started to speak.

“Amor, I want to have a baby with you.”

You felt your skip four beats over.

“Yeah?” You asked, not able to hold the smile back from your voice.

Jenni looked up at you, her normally cocky bravado was nowhere to be seen, she for once looked a little shy. You brought her closer to your body, loving the feeling of her naked body on yours.

“Yeah. I think we would be good parents” She nuzzled against your neck.

“So do I.”

#woso community #woso smut #woso fanfics #jenni hermoso #jenni hermoso smut #jenni hermoso x reader #jenni hermoso imagine #woso #woso x reader

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always-just-red · 29 days ago

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@irandial and @micasosa34 requested a Rafayel version of this fic, so here it is!! This is a loose sequel, but mostly a spin-off? Also an emotional rollercoaster, sorry! (I fear I put too much of myself in this one, guys... there will be no beating the 'oh you are ACTUALLY in love with this man' allegations after this.....)

Fourth Wall (Rafayel Ver.)

Rafayel x Player!Reader 🔥

(Previous part/Sylus version here!)

Summary: You didn't think Rafayel would let you walk around an art gallery all by yourself, did you?

Genre: Angst! This is my revenge for the claw machine debacle (Checkmate, Rafayel!!! But also I'm sorry and I love you)

Warnings/Additional tags: player!reader, gender neutral, fourth-wall breaking, non-canon, one instance of swearing

| Word count: 2.4k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

You made it through about two rooms of the gallery before thinking about Rafayel.

You stand in front of a dark seascape: a night sky and a symmetrically black ocean framing the plight of a small fishing boat, adrift in the centre. The moon casts a pale, faraway light, and an orange lantern glows, drawing colour from the oppressive darkness— deep blues, and rich, shimmering turquoise, crested with white.

It should evoke some feeling of smallness, some respect for the vast indifference of the natural world, but no— your mind is set on the fictional artist who lives in your phone.

What would he think about it? What would he have to say?

At the moment, you suspect it would be some remark about how you should get your own opinion, rather than piggybacking his.

Still, it gives you an idea. You glance around self-consciously as you draw out your phone and earphones— tucking the latter into your ears as you offer a curt smile to the nearby gallery attendant. You’re not breaking any rules by loading up Love and Deepspace, but it feels slightly ridiculous in a place like this: full of real and honest things where you’re somehow lonely.

You log-in with a tap. “Let’s go to the beach,” Rafayel greets, his voice as warm as sunshine that melts a cold morning haze. “I never get tired of seeing the sunset there.”

You smile more sincerely, tousling his hair, but then it’s straight to business. You drag him into the AR Photobooth, directing him through a few poses until you find one you like: a duo pose. His fingers are meant to be around your chin, but without you, he seems to be pointing. Perfect, you shift— tilting your phone until the painting sits behind him.

He’s winking at you as he gestures to it, his face and body as still as marble.

You’re about to take the picture when a not-so-distant conversation strikes up, making you glance backwards. Another visitor is asking the attendant about a painting, and you lower your phone’s volume a notch so you can eavesdrop on them.

“This is one of Turner’s earliest paintings, y’know? He was young when he painted it. Like, super young.”

You freeze. The attendant and the visitor aren’t standing by a Turner painting; you are. Your gaze snaps back to your phone, drawn by the familiarity of the voice.

Rafayel’s turned away from you. He’s staring at the painting, one hand on his hip and the other up by his face, stroking his chin. He’s swaying on his feet gently, his head tilting as he takes in different parts of the seascape.

“You gonna take the picture, cutie?” he asks, glancing back at you with a knowing grin.

Your lips have parted slightly in surprise, but your finger manages to find the photo button. Rafayel returns to his candid observations just in time for your screen to flicker, mimicking a camera flash.

“Ok, one more.” He turns around and settles into a new pose. You take another photo. “Nice,” he beams, “you’ll send those to me later, yeah?”

But you can’t—

“Relax, ok? I’m kidding. Now come on,” he pokes at the edge of your screen like a mime trapped by an invisible box. “Move this thing! I wanna see what else they’ve got here.”

You do move, but not to show him around. He gets a blurry view of the floor as you hurry over to a nearby bench, sinking down with a sigh because you can’t believe this is happening— again. With a few taps of your finger, you draw the curtains on Rafayel’s view to your world and return him to his.

“No, no, no! What?” he groans in disbelief, suddenly back in the Destiny Café. He throws himself into the armchair with reckless abandon— limbs sprawled— one hand over his face as though it would pain him to look on anything at all. “You find out I’m self-aware and the first thing you do is drag me back here? Where’s your heart? Your empathy? Your soul?”

You poke at his hand and he swats at the air like you’re bothering him.

“Leave me alone. Can’t you see I’m busy, like, contemplating the futility of my existence?”

So dramatic! You consider closing the app out of spite, but this is Rafayel. You know Rafayel; look past the theatrics. It’s been, what— just over a month since Sylus first told you he’d seen through all of this? He said the others were lagging behind, but maybe…

Maybe they weren’t.

Shit. Maybe they weren’t.

You watch Rafayel, sunken down in one of two places you’ve seen him inhabit every day, every night, for almost a year. This café isn’t different from the old in any way that matters. Sylus is new but Rafayel has been here from the very beginning. So many more days. So many more nights.

How long has he known?

He lifts his hand, just enough to peer in your direction. You’ve not closed the app. You’re not poking at him anymore. He sits up straighter in the chair, both hands in his lap, and he looks at them pensively. Maybe even remorsefully.

“You’re thinking about what it all means, huh? Don’t.” It’s a command, but it’s soft. Then softer, a: “Please?”

Your breath catches— oh— he’s known for a long time, hasn’t he? You lean back against the gallery wall, grounding yourself as you text him an emoji: a chick bursting out of its shell with question marks over its head.

He pulls out his phone. Sees it. “Why?” he translates with a melancholic chuckle.

Yeah. You tickle his head. Why?

He runs a hand through his hair. “I guess… I didn’t want you to feel bad?”

You text another emoji and he glances down at it, then laughs more loudly: “I’m a dummy? Check a mirror, cutie— isn’t it you who’s been walking around thinking Mister Wannabe Vampire is the only one smart enough to figure this all out? Puh-lease.”

He laughs even more at his own joke— maybe to fill the quiet and the fact that he can’t hear you laughing with him. It peters out like it inevitably must, and like it always does. He goes still.

“Can’t you show me around, even a little?” he asks.

No.

You feel bad, you do, but you can’t start living for him. This is your world; if you invite him in now, when does it stop? You already spend too much time with your head down, lost in your phone. You were walking through a gallery and thinking about him, remember? Art is supposed to make you think about something real.

No, you text him: a crow holding a sign with a big, red cross. It’s too abrupt, but there’s not an emoji for “I can’t. You know I can’t.”

Rafayel’s face falls further as he checks his phone, his eyes like the ocean in the painting across the room: lit by a weak, failing little light. He looks to you, even though he can’t see you. “Please?”

You don’t move.

“Please,” he tries again, “just this once— this once. Is that so much to ask?”

You’ve used up your three means of answering him.

He scoffs in dismay, alone in the silence of everything you can’t say— you couldn’t say— even if you were really with him and the distance between you was merely invented. How could you go to him, hold his face in your hands and tell him the truth: that you care, but not enough?

Here, now: the quiet confesses it for you.

Rafayel stands from his seat, taking a step closer, his gaze dark. You can see his eyes more clearly; that lantern is at the bottom of the sea, with the rest of the ship and everyone on board. “Do you know what my life is?” he asks, and the silence has become his ally, punctuating his every word so it can cut more deeply. “My life’s an empty café, a book with blank pages and a phone that won’t ring.”

The curtains behind him move softly with a superficial breeze, lit by a superficial sun.

“The only thing that’s real,” he says, “is you.”

You feel like the breath’s been knocked from your lungs.

You can’t resent him for it. He could have drowned you from the start, could have dragged you under a weight of responsibility, but he didn’t, and that’s Rafayel: always tempering himself into something less lethal. He’s been so still for you. So silent for you.

Your mind is wrapped in a vow you made him— one you’ve been unconsciously breaking— and you’re going to break it again, knowingly, wilfully this time, because you want him like this: angry.

You promised, didn’t you? I will never make Rafayel wait for me.

He’s always been waiting, and you want him to stop.

You close the app, muting your phone when notifications start coming through: a squall of frustration, pleading, and frantic apologies. You tuck all of it into your pocket and stand, wandering back to the painting that started it all so you can look at it differently.

Something real to think about. Something real.

You stare at a black ocean and think about him.

…

Rafayel isn’t talking to you.

It’s been a week since your ‘breakup’— dubbed gleefully as such by Sylus— and you load up the game to find your artist slumped back in his armchair, his book over his face. A week of him sitting down, cross-legged and armed, during the Deepspace Trials you’d set out to clear with him. A week of him hogging the Claw Machine, and missing every rare plushie with a sarcastic ‘oops’.

The worst part is that you’ve missed him. You’d tried replaying the kindled moments from his five-star memories, but he’d made you regret it. In Sparkling Traces, he’d summed up his feelings in a very… colourful drawing. Omnipotent Perception: he’d slipped deeper into the bathwater, a blush on his face as he avoided your gaze and murmured something about you ‘having some nerve.’

Now, you can’t even call him over to you. You poke at the book on his face, once, twice, then repeatedly until it slips, but his hands shoot up to catch it. He holds it in place.

Ugh. If he would just—

You drum away at the book more vivaciously, but his grip is solid. Plan B, then: you open your in-game messages and send an emoji instead. Rafayel stirs, one hand moving to his pocket and the other lifting the book so he can peek down at his phone. “What— you tryna bribe me now?”

He’s looking at grumpy crow holding out a present: a bundle of shiny, red gems. His translation is spot-on, as per usual, and you reward it by poking at his chest. He frowns down at the contact, then sits up, rolling his eyes as he tosses the book over his shoulder.

“This better be good,” he yawns, standing up and stretching with a listlessness that could only be described as cat-like, however much he’d whine about the comparison.

Having won his attention— and begrudging consent— you navigate your way to the AR Photobooth. Rafayel stares at you from within the frame: an unwitting subject of a portrait he doesn’t yet understand, but he soon will. You smile as he turns cautiously to regard his backdrop.

Behind him, the ocean laps at a shore of pale sand and stretches into the horizon, where the sun lazily dips. There’s about half of it left, turning the sky a blurred palette of orange and pink that’s spilled over the water. Clouds are few and dark purple, their linings aglow.

Rafayel’s folded arms have dropped to his sides. After a few, long seconds, he gazes back in your direction, eyes wide with surprise before they soften with a radiant smile.

“You—” he starts, and it could be something as light as a joke or as deep as a soliloquy. You’ll never know, because he doesn’t put it to words. He glances at the ocean again. Then at you. “Thanks,” he settles for.

You chuckle. There’s not many ways you can answer without tearing him away from the sunset and trapping him back in the café, so you stay sitting still. It’s a different silence than a week ago. There are things unsaid, but that’s ok— they’re the sort you don’t need to speak aloud, anyway.

Your shoes are set aside by your feet so you can feel the sand, still warm beneath your toes. You wiggle them into it, gazing out over the ocean as the evening breeze catches and plays with your hair, and the last of the sun trails over your skin. You stare out at where it’s sinking.

Rafayel moves, and your focus meanders back to your phone. He’s walking away from you, gradually— retreating further into the composition you’ve created, just for him. He looks as though he’s nearing the shore, but it’s cosmetic: there are no footprints in the sand. His hair isn’t moved by the same breeze, and his face isn’t gilded by the same light.

He stops by the ocean’s edge and crouches gently, mesmerised by the push and pull of the tide. Slowly, humbly, he reaches out a hand and lowers his fingers towards the water; they never slip beneath the surface, and they don’t stir a ripple.

Rafayel laughs, masking an undertow of sadness, but not disappointment. “It’s funny,” he says, still sketching invisible, ineffectual shapes. “Loving the ocean as much as I do, and knowing… knowing I’ll never touch it.”

He’s all the way over there, but his voice is in your ears, so intimately close. You swallow an ache.

He looks up at you. Smiles: “Y’know what I mean?”

You’re using memories to complete the picture: His hair, mussed by the summer breeze that day you stood amongst the cherry blossoms. His face, painted by the sunset of a different life, where you’d roamed a desert together. In each and every moment, his eyes are the same, just as they are now: kindled by a tender, tentative fire.

“Yeah, Raf,” you say to yourself— just yourself. “I know what you mean.”

#🖋rach is actually writing #rafayel x reader #rafayel #love and deepspace #lads rafayel #lnds rafayel #l&ds rafayel #qi yu #rafayel x you #lads x reader #lads #lnds #l&ds

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folkwhoredoll · 8 months ago

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library affections - rafe cameron x fem!reader

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader

synopsis: there are two things that you love in this world; rafe and books

word count: 0.9k

warnings/tags: none, just fluff with sweet boyfriend!rafe

a/n: hi everyone! i don't think i can ever thank you all enough for your support in all of my works :< tbh i did not expect to gain so much interaction because this blog is still relatively new but here you all are and i appreciate each and every one of you <3 this fic is another fluff boyfriend!rafe fic (is it obvious that i like fluff so much lmao) and i've written this a while ago. i hope you'll like this one! if you have a request or prompt in mind, feel free to send me a message. happy reading!

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Being a regular visitor at the Camerons' estate has familiarized you with every corner of the house. Now, you have memorized every room and decoration, immediately spotting whatever is newly added. The Camerons didn't mind your presence, with your family being a close friend of theirs. Thus, it was no surprise that you ended up dating the one and only son of Ward Cameron.

With his father and stepmother often occupied and his sisters frequently out with friends, you and Rafe usually find yourselves with the house to yourselves, save for the occasional presence of the household staff. Yet, you've never minded.

Today follows a similar pattern. Ward left for a morning meeting, Wheezie went to school, and Sarah departed at noon to join John B's group. Surprisingly, even Rafe isn't home, having agreed to a golf outing with Topper and Kelce. Although he initially invited you to join, you declined, preferring to avoid the "boy talk" and the scorching sun. Thus, you find yourself waiting for Rafe in the living room, idly scrolling through your phone.

It's been around two in the afternoon when you got bored, sighing and deciding to stand up to walk around the house. Your feet already know where you're going when you face the familiar entrance to the Camerons' Library.

This room is your most loved spot in the whole estate, apart from Rafe's room. The vast shelves of bright book covers from different times always amaze you. If you could, you'd live in this room. Rafe has found you exploring this library countless times; even his sisters know it's the first place to check when you're not around the house.

Quickly scanning the shelves for a book, you settled upon a fantasy fiction novel, clutching the book as you made your way to a couch by the window. The first few chapters had you hooked immediately, eyes rapidly passing through every word as you moved chapter by chapter. The book was so good that it blanked your other senses, making you jump when you suddenly heard Rafe's voice.

"I knew you'd be here." He smirked, still in his golfing outfit, as he stood over you.

"Hi, Rafe." You smiled up at him, putting the book down on your lap. "How's golfing?"

Rafe plopped beside you, stretching his legs and putting an arm around your shoulder. "It was good. I got bored with Top's whining about his break-up with Sarah, so I left."

You chuckled when you saw his eyes roll, a dramatic sigh escaping his lips. "They were together for a long time. You can't blame him."

"I guess." He shrugged before flashing you a flirty grin. "But I also want to spend time with my girl."

You snorted. "Yeah, okay."

"What? I do! I feel guilty about leaving you here alone." He defended.

"I don't mind, Rafe." You spoke.

"Hm. I bet you don't. But still."

You raised your brows, silently urging him to explain what he meant.

"I just mean that you were too distracted by that book, baby. I could've been an intruder, but you wouldn't even know. What is that about anyway?"

Your eyes lit up at his question; you've always loved speaking about the books you've read. And Rafe loved hearing you talk, even if he's mostly confused.

"I just started reading it, so I don't really know what it's about yet, but there's this girl, and she has electricity powers!" You started excitedly.

Rafe listened intently. He couldn't help but feel affection for you, marveling at how your eyes sparkled with passion for the story. Despite the chaotic world outside, at this moment, it was just the two of you, surrounded by the tranquility of the library.

As you continued to talk, Rafe's mind wandered, reflecting on how much you meant to him. You were the one person who could effortlessly penetrate his tough exterior, revealing the softer, more vulnerable side of him that he often kept hidden from the world. He felt at ease with you, free to be himself without fear of judgment or ridicule.

Lost in his thoughts, Rafe reached out, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You paused mid-sentence, startled by the sudden touch, before leaning into his hand, relishing the warmth of his touch.

"Hey, what's wrong?" you asked, concern lacing your voice as you noticed the distant look in his eyes.

Rafe shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Nothing, I'm just... happy. Happy to be here with you."

A soft blush colored your cheeks as you met his gaze, feeling the warmth spread through your chest. At that moment, surrounded by the scent of old books and the soft glow of sunlight filtering through the window, you couldn't imagine being anywhere else.

Leaning in, Rafe pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment before pulling away. "I love you," he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with sincerity.

"I love you too," you replied, your heart swelling with emotion as you returned his affectionate gaze.

With a contented sigh, Rafe settled back against the couch, pulling you closer until you were nestled against his side. Together, you sat in comfortable silence, basking in the simple pleasure of each other's company.

At that moment, surrounded by the familiar comforts of the library, you knew that no matter what the future held, as long as you had each other, everything would be okay.

#drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x y/n

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rachalixie · 1 year ago

Text

forgive me for what i haven't done

summary: you arrive at your enemy's kingdom under the guise of making peace. the prince being nice to you wasn't part of the plan.

genre: strangers to lovers, hurt/comfort

warnings: she/her reader, reader's father is emotionally manipulative and physically harms her, mentions of violence

word count: 17.5k

a/n: absolute massive thank you to @sulfurcosmos, @isilentprincess, and @woahfruity for reading this through and giving me your honest feedback. i truly appreciate you <3 this fic has sent me through the five stages of grief.

you can’t ignore the bruising grip your father has on your arm as he walks you to the steps of the large palace. the journey here was a mere two hours, but it feels like this palace was built out of another world altogether. it’s shorter than your own, absent are the dull reaching peaks and towers of your home, traded for warm bricks covered in snaking ivy and the shining sun peeking through powdery clouds. where it lacks in height, it makes up for in its expanse. the building was wider than any you’ve ever seen.

it was more beautiful than any building you’ve ever seen, too.

you hope your nerves don’t show as you throw one last glance back at the carriage you arrived in; it would soon take away your handmaidens that had made the journey with you, and you wouldn’t see them again until you went home. it makes your heart ache that the only people you felt comfortable with were leaving you behind. you try and focus on the present instead, knowing that wallowing in self-pity would get you nowhere. you had hours of meeting strangers ahead of you, making polite small talk with them and learning whatever information you could about the royal family until you could go to bed and be upset in private. you weren’t here for pleasure anyways, your father had reminded you as the carriage had pulled in. you were here for a reason.

the first person you make eyes with is the king, a kind looking man, hair and beard speckled with gray and a soft smile on his face as he takes in his visitors. he had invited you and your father here, a gesture of goodwill, an unspoken plea for peace between your two kingdoms.

“they want peace,” your father had scoffed, throwing the letter from the neighboring king to his desk. you watched as it slid off and fluttered to the floor. “the scum that killed your grandfather want peace, and they dare ask me to negotiate a treaty with them.”

“well,” you started, swallowing down your nerves like you did every time you spoke to your father. since your mother passed, all those years ago, you had taken over the role of his confidant, like he did with her. though, he never listened to your advice when you gave it; you were simply a body for him to talk at, to pour out his grief and frustration out on. “did the king not overthrow his own father? he is not the man that hurt our family, and i assume neither are his sons. can we not let the past stay in the past?”

the two kingdoms are small - a unity between you would open opportunities for new trading, allies in battle, new paths to resources that your people don’t see.

“their bloodline is rotten,” he says, definitive. “i would be doing the world a service by ridding it of their pitiful existence.”

his words of extremity did not surprise you; he spoke of all of the neighboring kingdoms in this way. he was not one for alliances, keeping the borders of his territory locked to outsiders, deeming them not fit to enter his kingdom. you can barely remember a time when foreigners or immigrants inhabited the now barren lands.

“and the people in their kingdom?” you question. “they are truly innocent. will they be given refuge here once their kingdom has fallen?”

“i do not care!” he spits out at you, eyes burning in anger, and you shrink back a little. “they will burn along with their miserable rulers. i will find a way to take them down, all of them, to make them pay for what they did to my family. and you, gods help me, will do as i say.”

and you would. in truth, you had barely even considered going against him. you were alone, you had no options other than following through with his wishes, no escape from him and his cruelty. you had nowhere to go that he would not find you. and yet, he remained vexed as he moved closer to you, speaking quietly in a manner that was more terrifying than if he was yelling at you. his fingers curl around your upper arm, like a warning-

“welcome,” the king’s voice breaks you out of your memory, and you muster up a smile for him. “thank you for making the journey here. and please, call me stephen. you are esteemed guests here, no need for formalities.”

your father doesn’t offer the same notion back, nodding coldly at your side. king stephen furrows his brow for a moment, and it’s clear on his face that he’s caught off guard. so expressive for a royal, you muse as he shakes his head and the smile returns to his face.

“my sons,” stephen gestures to the boys standing by his side, the ones you had yet to lay your eyes on. “crowned prince christopher, his betrothed, the lady roseanne, and our youngest, felix.”

betrothed? you did not know the older son was engaged. this complicates things. you can feel the anger coming off in waves from your father, and you place your hand on his forearm for a moment. not now, please, you mentally beg, and you almost sigh in relief when the tension leaves his body, turning your attention to the two royals in front of you.

the taller of the two dons a mop of curly hair under his circlet, cleanly pressed clothes shining with the royal blue of their family. a striking woman is at his side, an arm loosely curled around his. as he moves forward to greet your father, linking arms like the king had, your attention is drawn to the boy left standing alone.

the shorter boy is what you can only describe as ethereal. his features are sharp in all the right places, smoothed out by soft planes and dips covered in starlight scattered freckles. his clothes are similar to that of his brother’s, but no crown adorns his head.

he might be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. it makes your knees weak.

“i am felix,” he says, his voice deeper than you would expect from the gentle features of his face. he dips his head a bit, a sign of respect, as he takes your hand and presses a gentle kiss to the back of it. your voice is steady when you respond with your own name, and you’re glad for it.

his attention is diverted when your father’s hand lands on your shoulder, his touch more gentle than it ever is whilst away from prying eyes.

“my daughter, princess y/n,” he announces, a proud smug on his face when you shyly curtsey. he must think your timidness is a ploy to get their trust, and not as a result of the raging nervousness boiling under your skin.

“it’s an honor to meet you, your highnesses,” you meet each of their eyes, looking for any sign of malice, but you find none.

“come inside, please,” the king beckons, and the circle of knights that had been flanking him move aside gracefully to make way to the tall archway leading inside the palace. you’re once again taken away by the beautiful architecture inside, melting candles lining the walls made of warm brick. “we will begin the peace talks tomorrow, spend the day settling from your journey.”

“we will go freshen up,” your father states, cutting your exploration short with a poorly concealed fake smile donning his face. you hope no one else can see through him the way you can. “and we will meet you for dinner?”

he doesn’t wait until the king answers before he pulls you off to a hallway, beckoning over a servant and barking at him to show you both to your chambers. you pray to the gods that your hosts see your father’s unorthodox behavior as a difference in customs, rather than rudeness. the servant looks flustered, eyes wide as he directs you to your adjoined chambers, and you almost feel bad for him. you’re sure he can tell when your father’s anger returns, getting stronger the further you walk from the royal family, and you keep your head bowed until the two of you are behind closed doors.

he lets go of your arm harshly, almost throwing you off of him in his haste and if you weren’t so afraid you would remind him that he probably shouldn’t yell as you’re sure he was about to do.

“he is engaged?” he growls out, teeth gritted together in fury. “this was not in the intel that i was given. this does not fit into our plan!”

his plan was for you to woo the prince, get him to fall in love with you, and then to kill his father and take the throne. nevermind the extensive gaps that he didn’t care to think out, that you weren’t brave enough to tell him about. the thought of the prince not going along with the neighboring king taking over his kingdom never crossed his mind; it was either extreme hubris or immense stupidity on his part. perhaps it was both.

“will i have to marry him? the prince?” you asked, avoiding his eyes. you kept your voice as leveled as you could, but you couldn’t completely mask the apprehension you were feeling.

“you will do whatever is necessary to gain his trust. if the boy proposes, you will accept.” he said, clinical and cold like he wasn’t gambling with your life. if your father was correct, these men were murderers, men who killed others in cold blood. what would the prince do if he discovered your father’s plan? how long was he expecting you to keep up this charade?

“control yourself,” he says when he takes in the tears pricking at your eyes, the wobbling of your lips as the gravity of his words sink in. “those of our class do not weep so easily.”

“what do we do now?” you ask, regretting it almost immediately when his anger turns towards you. you had wished, foolishly so, that he may forget this revenge-fueled nonsense and let you go home.

“i do not know, stupid girl. why do you not think of something instead of having me do everything for you?” you pray that no servants were listening in through the door, and no knights were making their patrol past the hallway. with how loud he’s speaking, there would be no hiding his ill intentions. “i thank the gods you were born a woman and i can marry you off. with how useless you are, there would be no helping my kingdom with you as a ruler.”

the words sting, your heart aches at the cold insult he’s thrown at you, but it’s not the first time he’s said something like this. it’s at the tip of your tongue to tell him that this wasn’t even your plan, that you didn’t want to betray this kingdom in the first place, that you’re tired of being his pawn in a game only he wants to play. you want to tell him that you would be a better ruler than he is if given the chance, that you almost hope for the day that he keels over and dies because you would be free of him. but you’ve learned to hold your tongue in times like this, knowing that he only says these things out of frustration; flashes of the kind man he used to be when you were younger play through your mind, calming you down as you scramble for some kind of answer.

“i will go after the younger one,” you start, a half-baked plan forming in your head. “if king stephen and christopher are out of the way, he is next in line for the throne, is he not? we just have a couple more people to get out of the way. befriend the king, distract him and make him trust you. i will handle the prince.”

you disappointed yourself by expecting some kind of verbal affirmation, some kind of praise for doing something right, but all you get from your father is a curt nod and a gesture to leave his chambers.

a nod was better than nothing. a nod was silent assurance that you were doing something right, that he was wrong about you. that you could think for yourself.

when you enter the hallway, you catch a glimpse of the servant from earlier peeking around the corridor. you smile at him, hoping that he had heard nothing and that your face didn’t betray the whirlwind of emotions clouding around in your head. he simply smiles back, foxy eyes crinkling and he nods at you before disappearing.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

dinner was an incredibly awkward affair; all throughout the meal, you couldn’t avoid meeting eyes with felix from where he was sitting across from you, and you flushed and looked away every time. his eyes were striking, soft browns highlighted with specks of gold reflected from the candlelight. this was the boy you were supposed to woo and manipulate, and you couldn’t even meet his eyes. gods help you.

you weren’t sure if your hosts could sense the concealed hostility in your father’s voice, but you could. he was doing a poor job of hiding his apathy, answering king stephen’s questions with short words or grunts. he eyed his food with judgment and took hesitant bites, even though you thought it was exceptionally made.

even the banquet hall itself was remarkable, banners of blue and gold hanging from the tall ceilings and plants of various kinds lining the walls. light shone down from the high windows, bathing the royals in front of you in a golden light.

“is the food not to your liking?” king stephen asked, a small frown gracing his features when he saw your father’s mostly full plate.

“this is amazing, like nothing i have ever tasted before,” you voiced, directing the attention to yourself. your own plate was nearly scraped clean, and you might have licked it to savor the flavors if you didn’t have your royal dignity to uphold.

your heart pounded in your chest from addressing the king so directly.

“good, i am glad,” stephen smiled warmly at you, quelling your nerves, and his smile reached his eyes in a way your father’s hadn’t for years. “i shall make sure to send your compliments to our main cook, he was worried that the meal would not suit our guests’ tastes.”

“minho worries too much,” christopher laughs, meeting eyes with his fiancée. the way he looks at her sends warmth up your spine, like you’re witnessing kindling sparkling into a burning flame. “his cooking is the best in the entire kingdom.”

it might have turned you off that he was boasting like that if it wasn’t about someone whose status was below his. a crowned prince, giving compliments like that to a palace worker? kitchen staff, at that? it was different, for sure.

the thought stuck with you for the rest of the night, even as your head hit your pillow at night. though you weren’t so naive to think that first impressions were indicative of their entire nature, it seems that the image of this royal family that your father painted for you might have been more skewed than you initially thought.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

while your father spent the next day with king stephen and their advisors, beginning the process of drafting and scrapping and rewriting peace treaties that you knew would never come to fruition, you were left to your own devices. venturing out of your chambers where you were bound to run into strangers was unsettling, but you pushed the feeling aside as you got dressed.

your father no doubt assumed you were jumping right into spending time gaining felix’ trust, but you didn’t know how to approach the younger prince to fulfill your part of the deal. you didn’t even know how to find him, or who to ask for his whereabouts; the sheltered walls of your home did not provide many opportunities for you to practice talking to people.

the people here did not seem to have the same problem. wherever you turned, visiting nobles and palace staff sent you smiles, casual how are you’s and i hope you slept well’s handed out to you like spare change. it made your head spin, and the desire to retreat back into your chambers was strong.

you found your way outside instead, through an archway made of brown stone. the fresh air often helped you think.

your casual walk allowed you to take in details that you couldn’t when you first arrived. the trees and greenery surrounding the palace were things you did not get at home, the forever winter killing off any color you longed to see. crops and livestock were held miles from the palace, outside of the reach of your vision and the invisible leash your father had kept you on, but here they thrived under the midday sun. you had a horse that you called your own, but you were only allowed to use him to travel to nearby towns on the outskirts of the palace property, right outside of the strong walls that surrounded it. none of the villagers there spoke to you past cold formalities, no matter how hard you tried, so eventually you gave up, settling for spending your time inside the castle.

here you found that you simply had to step outside of the palace walls to feel the soft grass beneath your feet, to smell the earth under your nose, to drink in the vibrant pinks and purples of the flowers in the gardens. there were so many trees, tall and strong with no walls blocking your vision of the soft foliage. you found a quiet bench under a tree, leaves and twigs decorating it’s surface from disuse, and you decided to call it your own despite having no ownership of any part of these grounds.

no ownership yet, if your father had anything to do about it.

you sat there for hours, drinking in the scenery as the sun made it’s path across the clear sky. you had expected boredom to creep around the edges of your mind, but it never came. the tranquility was so addictive that you found yourself back there, on that same bench, the next morning. and the next, your feet carrying you there before you were even fully awake.

“penny for your thoughts?” a deep voice disrupts your peace on that third day as a slender body sits on the bench next to you, just close enough that the warmth of his body touches your skin. you’re equal parts relieved and distressed when you see that it’s felix, and you smile at him in greeting, hoping that it didn’t come out as a grimace. this time when you meet his eyes, you make an effort to not look away.

“i do not get to see things such as this at home,” you wave your hand towards the garden, towards the birds chirping and the gentle sound of a stream bubbling. “it is beautiful. serene, you know?”

you don’t know how to act around him, and you certainly didn’t expect him to approach you. your words came out awkward, sounding unpracticed and superficial, and you try and hold back a flush from taking over your face. you hoped it wasn’t outstandingly clear how uncomfortable you were in his presence. do better than that, your father’s voice rings in your head.

“i agree,” he turns away from you, drinking in the picture-perfect view in front of you. “i am very lucky to call this place my home. what is yours like?”

“gray,” you deadpan, and the responding laugh he grants you makes your heart skip. better.

“there must be something beautiful there, it cannot just be you, right?” he says, a playful smirk tugging his lips upwards.

“flattery will get you nowhere, my prince,” you shoot back, enjoying the moment of quick banter between the two of you before your words turned sober. “when my mother was alive, she would paint the hallways and the walls of our chambers with beautiful flowers and vines and clouds. the flowers were my favorite part, she painted them in such beautiful shades of purples and yellows. most of them have been painted over, but the ones in my chambers remain. those are my favorite part of the castle, the most beautiful things i have ever seen.”

“i would love to see it one day,” he says, adamant and genuine as he takes your hand in his to squeeze it once before letting it go.

“maybe you could visit?” you look up at him through your lashes, a fake gesture to toy with him that left you feeling staticky and wrong. it was a complete lie - you would never subject this beautiful boy to the somberness of your home, lest it dull his brightness. even though he might not have a home soon, you push away the thought.

“only if it means i can see more of you, and not having you hide away,” he says, pointedly, though his face shows no malice.

“it is overwhelming, for me,” you explain, embarrassed at having been caught. “to be surrounded by strangers.”

“yes,” his eyes are far away for a moment, his head deep in thought. “i understand.”

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

the next morning you had only just left your chambers, planning for another day exploring the greenery around the palace, when you spot felix leaning against the wall opposite of the door. he approaches you with a warm smile and takes your hand, his skin soft under your fingertips. how long had he been waiting there for you?

“my lady,” he bows his head, bringing the back of your hand to his lips to press a kiss there, as he had done when you first arrived. “would you care for a walk around the palace? it would be my honor to be your escort for the day.”

“if you ask so nicely,” you smile back, humor seeping into your voice naturally. “how can i refuse?”

“excellent,” his smile widens and he holds an arm out for you to take. “i’ll take you to meet my friends! that way, you will have friends here, too, instead of strangers.”

his friends, you thought, would be nobles and lords and other members of high class that you would have to make fake pleasantries with. while his gesture was sweet, you had no interest making relations with the elite members of this court, the ones whose lives you were planning on upending. the last thing you expected was for him to take you straight to the kitchens, down winding hallways and corridors, marked by the ever increasing aroma of delicious baked goods and mouthwatering herbs.

“minho!” felix exclaims, bouncing on his heels excitedly, catching the attention of a man who was frowning deeply at a pot bubbling over a fire. “this is y/n, i am taking her around the castle today. y/n, this is minho, the king of our kitchens, and a dear friend of mine.”

the way he introduced you, so casually, was perplexing; no one had ever spoken your name without princess or lady preceding it. even more so was his casual use of king when talking about someone of lower class, a term that should be solely reserved for his father.

“hello, my lady,” minho looks up, his lips turning up into a graceful smile, slightly crooked teeth peeking through his lips. his hair curls around his ears a bit, dainty jewelry adorning his lobes, and his features look almost sculpted in perfection. he’s absolutely beautiful.

“is everyone in your kingdom this pretty?” you blurt out, forgetting yourself, and minho barks into laughter. felix’s hand moves to lay on your arm, right at the crook of your elbow, and if it wasn’t for the amused smile on his face you may have thought you upset him.

“you are one to talk, my lady,” minho says, delight on his face that quickly morphs into exasperation as the pot he was monitoring earlier begins to bubble over.

“careful, min,” felix drawls out, his fingers curling further into your arm. almost possessively. interesting. “she is our guest, not someone for you to flirt with.”

“alright, your royal highness,” minho says distractedly, stirring vigorously. “now stop distracting me, unless you want raw meat and vegetables for dinner tonight.”

felix grins in response, shooting a wave at the cook before leading you to a door in the back of the kitchens. it follows outside to a set of fields you hadn’t laid eyes on before, a cobblestone path winding through it like a river.

“so, do you think i am pretty too?” he teases as he leads you down the path, towards a set of men - knights - sparring in the midday sun. “or is that reserved for minho?”

“well-” you laugh, startled at his boldness. “i will not lie, you certainly are beautiful. but do not let it get to your head.”

“well as you said, flattery gets you nowhere, my lady,” he laughs too, and the two of you break all composure as you lean into each other. it’s almost too easy to be casual with him, too natural to break the carefully taught formalities that were drilled into you. you thought it might be a challenge, or awkward at the minimum, to get close to the prince, but you’re finding it to be quite an enjoyable experience thus far.

as you approach the knights, sweaty and panting from the exertion of their practice, you point out two men stand out from the rest, wearing armor with the royal colors showing proudly rather than the simple silver of the other knights. they held themselves with grace, power exuding off of them almost effortlessly, and they spark your interest.

“changbin and jisung,” felix points them out. “chris’ most trusted knights, and our friends. i pray for you if you ever get into a poker match with those two, they’ll cheat you out of every coin in your purse, the rascals.”

his voice is fond as his words are teasing, a juxtaposition that fascinates you. you don’t think you can recall a time where someone has used an insult as a term of endearment as he had just done. you lock this away in the back of your mind to ponder on later as you take in the two knights in front of you. the shorter one is clearly fond of exercise, if the muscles that even his heavy armor can’t hide is any clue. his hair is as dark as a raven’s feathers, curling from sweat, and his face is kind. the one next to him is slimmer, but no less strong. his face is round, cheeks swelling from the gummy smile he’s wearing, and his eyes are so pretty.

“felix!” the more muscular one, changbin as felix had pointed out, beams at the man beside you. “care to join? your moves must be getting rusty with all the sitting around you royals do.”

felix sends a glare to changbin, no heat behind the gesture, and him and jisung laugh in response.

“i have company, you scoundrels,” felix complains, almost in a whine. “could you not just boast about my prowess on the battlefield? you had to make me look bad?”

“please, lix,” jisung teases before turning his attention to you. “he may not be the most powerful warrior, but he is quick. the most agile swordwork i have seen, probably. it is like he is dancing with his opponent.”

felix flushes, shy under the compliments of his knights, his friends.

“hyunjin and seungmin must be around here somewhere,” felix muses as he walks you down the corridor lined with knights, back inside and down a hallway you haven’t seen before. “this is where mine and chris’ chambers are. hyunjin is chris’s personal secretary, and seungmin is mine. though, i would consider him more of a menace than anything else.”

his voice is lined with fondness again, like the way he spoke about minho and changbin and jisung. it’s the same manner as how he talks about his father and his brother, his family. it was like they were all his kin, regardless of blood.

“you are on a first name basis with the staff here?” you ask after a lull of silence, curiosity winning over your hesitance. your own handmaidens did not address you by name, the women who were your closest companions since you were young girls. you had never even thought to grant them the privilege of doing so.

“we treat everyone with the same respect, regardless of status or bloodline,” he says, words sounding a little colder than usual.

“do not misunderstand,” you quickly correct, not wanting to offend him. because you want him to trust you, your mind supplies. not because you want him to like you. “i think it admirable. it is…different, to how things are in my kingdom. i am simply not used to it. i would prefer it this way, if i had the choice.”

it wasn’t a complete lie; you were searching for words that would win him your favor, but it surprised you how naturally they came to you.

“do you not?” he furrows his brow, looking at you in confusion. whatever iciness he had before had melted into befuddlement, like he genuinely didn’t understand. “have a choice, i mean.”

you don’t know how to tell him you don’t have many choices at all.

the silence takes over the both of you again, less comfortable than before, but he remains quiet as if he can sense the thoughts whirling inside of your head. it’s only when you reach the limits of the palace property that you’re thrown out of your mind, glancing at him with unspoken question.

“i thought we could take a stroll through the lower towns to end our day,” he explains, no signs of lingering animosity from your previous conversation. “it is my favorite place to go to get away from the palace once in a while.”

the lower towns, like most things in this kingdom, were not what you had expected. there were children playing in the streets, laughing and screaming while their parents watched on in exasperation. markets lined the cobblestones you walked on, selling vibrant fabrics and jewelry, freshly baked goods and crisp produce, and a variety of trinkets that overwhelmed you in the best way, patrons were striking bargains for products on every corner, trading goods for coin, a smile on each face you encountered.

it was a good distinction from the towns you were used to, where knights patrolled to ensure nothing was amiss. people there lived in fear, not in joy. everywhere you turned, people smiled at the prince beside you, and he would wave back or offer a small nod, ever polite. the few times you had managed to sneak into the lower towns to buy paints and canvas or trinkets as gifts for your handmaidens, you had gone in a thick cloak that covered your face lest you be recognized. here, walking around in your day dress, you felt almost naked.

a child runs up to felix and wraps his small arms around his legs, bouncing excitedly on his heels.

“prince lixie!” he squeals, and felix leans down to ruffle his hair, a large smile on his face. it might be the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. “is that a princess?”

it takes you a moment to realize that the child is asking about you. you don’t interact with children much, your father would never allow them to touch you like the boy is with felix.

“yes, she is,” felix whispers, like he’s sharing a secret. “a very beautiful princess. why don’t you say hello?”

“hello,” the boy turns shy, peeking his head out from behind felix’ leg. the child, you found, could be forgiven for his lack of decorum when addressing you. he had a lot to learn at his young age. “i am joshua.”

“hi, little one,” you say, a little awkward as felix’ eyes are trained on you. “i am y/n.”

you were at loss for words, but the few words you managed to give had the boy practically beaming at you in response. you watch as felix tells him to return to his friends, because you and him were on official palace business, and the boy nods sagely before scampering off.

“sorry about him,” he says once lucas is out of sight. “i have been visiting him in the village since he was very little. i have taken a liking to him, naughty as he is. he is the son of one of the merchants here, and he lost his mother years ago. i see myself in him.”

“he is precious,” you take his arm again as he continues down the path. “i always wanted to visit the children in the orphanages at home, but i-” you cut yourself off, a habit you’ve taken to since arriving here. i need to learn to think before speaking. “i have not gotten the chance.”

“the children here are lovely,” he says. “i like learning from them. they keep me humble, remind me that not everyone is born with such privilege.”

he says it so simply, as if it’s his right to question such things; a man born into royalty surely has no business spending time with lower-class children, learning from them. it is one thing to offer them a coin, something that the kingdom could clearly spare. but what could they possibly teach him that his well-respected tutors could not?

you didn’t bring it up, afraid that he would react the same way he had earlier, when you questioned his informality with his staff. afraid that maybe, he would react in anger, though you couldn’t quite imagine the perfect lines of his face twisted into anything but peace.

before the two of you leave, he stops at one of the many stands selling an array of sparking jewelry and scarves, and he asks you if you would like anything. you want to say yes, the handmade twists of metal and dyed fabrics captivating you, but you shyly shake your head.

you almost miss his forlorn expression when you refuse, turning away from the stand. it’s better this way, to not receive gifts from him. there will be nothing in your possession to remember him by, then.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

as felix drops you off at your door in the evening, the day comes crashing down on you - he’s so kind. everyone here is, from the royal family to the staff and the people living in the villages outside the gates. throughout the entire day you spent with felix, you did not once think about why you were here, simply enjoying his company and learning about him, not the secrets you were tasked with uncovering.

it’s given you a lot to think about.

as he leaves, he runs a gentle hand down your arm from your shoulder to your wrist, squeezing gently before walking away. even his strides are made in lovely, even steps that makes him look other-worldly.

you lean against the doorframe, taking a deep breath to try and settle yourself, and it’s then that a flash of movement out of the corner of your eye captures your attention.

a servant is standing just down the hallway opposite from the one felix disappeared into, the same servant who had walked you to your chambers the very first day. the first person here who had smiled at you for no reason other than to be kind.

“hello,” you call out softly, beckoning him closer to you; you don’t know who looks more nervous out of the two of you as he approaches you with uncertain steps. “what is your name?”

“jeongin, my lady,” he almost whispers, hesitant, wide eyes trained on you.

“nice to meet you, jeongin,” your lips tug upwards. he’s adorable.

“we have met before,” he blurts out, smacking his hands over his mouth. “i am sorry, i spoke out of turn. i just meant…”

he trails off, looking down shyly.

“meant what, jeongin?” you ask, sure to keep your voice light and free of demand despite the curiosity starting to burn in you. what did he mean, you’ve met before? surely, he means within the palace earlier that week, right?

“i used to live in your kingdom,” he admits, his fingers playing with them hem of his tunic. “when i was younger. my mother was a servant in your castle.”

“really?” you gasp, understanding and puzzlement taking over simultaneously.

“yes, but i left when i was still young,” he explains. “i remember you, though. you were always kind. i admired you for that.”

“thank you, jeongin,” you manage to force out, knowing that you did not deserve his kind words, even as informal as they were given. he was wrong; you were just as wicked as the rest of the nobles in your court. perhaps you were simply better at hiding it.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

your father pulls you into an empty corridor near your chambers the next day, his strength harsh enough to make you stumble over your feet.

“what have you learned,” he speaks in hushed tones, scared of being overheard. it’s more of a demand than a question, as if he simply expected you to have what he needs after such little time.

“i spent the entire day with him yesterday,” you start, choosing your words carefully, lest he discover that you’re actually enjoying yourself here. “he took me around the castle, and i have an idea of the layout, in the case that we need to make a hasty exit.”

“anything else?” he pushes, leaning further into your space.

“they are…unusually fond of their staff here,” you divulge, more reluctant to give up this information. “they might be of use.”

“good girl,” his smirk is like frost, and he reaches out to cup your cheek. a gesture that, to others, may have seemed paternal, protective. though his touch sends an unpleasant shiver up your spine, his words satisfy some sick satisfaction within you - the need for his approval was met.

“your mother would be proud.”

as he walks away, it makes you queasy how those words make you straighten up, proud. pleased. living in the echo of your mother’s footsteps for so long made you doubtful that you would ever be able to fill them, but maybe this was a start.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

you see felix later, walking to the banquet hall with another boy dressed in simple clothes. they pause by the entrance, deep in conversation, and you duck behind a pillar, out of their sight. you’re just close enough to hear snippets of their conversation, when their voices raise from their hushed whispers. they must not want to be overheard, you realize, straining your ears harder. this was your chance to gather some kind useful information for your father.

you close your eyes and listen, picking up puzzle pieces of she’s sick and time off and you’ve almost completed the puzzle when it hits you - though any conversation they might have had was not meant for you to hear, this one in particular felt like a breach of privacy. not of felix’ but of the boy standing before him.

his secretary, seungmin, that he had spoken about the previous day. the boy who, as you had just learned, had a sick mother, and was requesting some time away to care for her. as you peek around the pillar, you see felix rest a hand on his shoulder, leaning close to the boy before pulling him in for a gentle hug.

he’s friends with his staff, and he touches them so casually? this didn’t fit. it fit nothing of the way you were brought up, formality and proprietary trained into you, and it fit nothing of the picture your father had painted of the royals that ruled over this kingdom. it seems that with every observation, instead of answers you were left with more and more questions.

“what are you doing?” a voice sounds from behind you, too close, and you nearly jump.

“what?” you breathe out, turning to see jeongin standing behind you, eyes wide.

“you were just standing there with your eyes closed,” he explains. “is everything okay?”

“my lady,” you correct, the words leaving your mouth as if it had a mind of its own. “is everything okay, my lady.”

“oh,” he says, twisting his bottom lip between his teeth. “apologies, my lady. there is no such need for formalities here, i had forgotten.”

“it is alright,” you assure, watching as he relaxes and lets out a breath.

“just, a word of advice?” he says, continuing before you could tell him that no, you didn’t want nor need his advice. “if you are going to be here for some time, you should try and adapt. not to overstep, my lady, you just might find yourself more comfortable if you relax a bit.”

he walks away with a smile, and you’re left alone to reflect on his words. he did overstep, but it does not mean he didn’t give you something useful. adapt, he had said, and perhaps he had a point. felix seemed to be more open with you when you were agreeable, when you didn’t question his strange impropriety.

maybe becoming one of them, even through a facade, was the key to unlocking whatever you needed to find.

he arrives at your door as the sun was setting, light knocks accompanied by a call of your name that you almost couldn’t hear. you call out softly for him to enter, a delighted smile taking over your face when you see what he has grasped in his hand, held out in offering.

a beautiful bouquet of flowers, wrapped in creamy tulle. the petals were a vibrant purple, highlighted by sharp yellows and soft whites towards their center. they were violas, your mother’s favorite flower.

you hadn’t seen one since she had passed. your father had forbade anyone from growing them on his lands.

“how did you know?” you gasp, smiling at him brightly as you take them from him. you move them closer to your face, and if you were alone you might bury your face into them, savoring their powdery sweet smell. “that these were my favorite flower?”

“you told me,” he says, ears turning pink under your attention. “that your mother painted your room in purple flowers. i just guessed, but from your reaction i hope i got it right?”

how had he remembered such a small detail that you had given him, when you knew little to nothing about him?

“oh, felix, they’re perfect. you remembered such a small thing?”

“there are a lot of things i wish to know about you,” he confesses.

“likewise,” you smile at him.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

smoke, creeping through the gap between the floor and the wooden door, rising in curling pillars towards you. snaking around your neck, entering your throat and your nostrils, burning your lungs to ash. you scramble for the doorknob, but the moment your fingers hit it you’re snatching your hand back - it’s icy hot, unable to touch.

there is no escape.

the windows - covered by royal blue curtains, catch fire from below, and you throw them back. you need air, something to clear out your crumbling lungs, but when you look outside the city is on fire. red-hot flames lick up the side of the palace, trees turned barren and flowers burned to a crisp.

in the center you can see felix, flames surrounding him but not touching. he’s whispering something, and you cry out that you can’t hear him. speak louder, please, you beg. help me.

“this is your fault,” he speaks, his voice right in your ear, but when you turn towards it, it’s not felix next to you. it’s your father.

his hand slides around your waist, pulling you close to him, embracing you.

“good work,” he says, proud smile on his face as the both of you watch the city fall to the flames. “i knew you could do it.”

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

since the younger prince had taken you on a tour of the castle, you’ve seen him every day. sometimes he would greet you at breakfast, disappearing afterwards only for him to show up at your door later to ask you on a walk around the grounds. other times he would be waiting for you outside your chambers when you woke up with a basket of fresh pasties baked by minho for you to enjoy together, and he would watch in delight as you savored the flavors. on rarer days, you would only see him in passing while he was between duties, but he would stop to press a kiss to the back of your hand, every time.

you played along with him, accepting his flirting and responding in turn. it came instinctively, and you often forgot that you were meant to be luring him into a false companionship, not a real one. he was alluring, smart with a fragment of recklessness, soft with sharp edges, a perfect balance of everything.

as the days passed, he would get bolder. his touches lingered for longer, the searing heat of his hand pressing on your arm, your shoulder, on the small of your back. his kisses moved from your hands to your cheeks and your temples, to the crown of your head, and it left you aching for more. he didn’t hold back his compliments, reflecting not only on how beautiful he found you but also how thought you were clever, intelligent, good-natured. you never thought those things about yourself, but something in the way he said it made you think they were true.

in the times that you weren’t with felix, you spent time with jeongin. the boy was as sweet as he looked, the the more time you spent together, the more his shyness melted away to reveal sharp wit and an even sharper tongue. you found your own walls dropping around him too, his easy companionship making it difficult to remain closed off to him. he reminded you of the home of your childhood, the one that you missed fiercely, and you were grateful to have him by your side. he kept you humble, holding you accountable for the way you acted, even though a spark of fear remained within him any time he spoke his mind in that regard. you managed to hold back your annoyance at his remarks, and soon you found that it simply faded out of reach. you became fast friends, almost too quickly, evidenced by the way he would raise his eyebrows at you when he saw you with felix, like he could see right through you.

you were lucky that your attraction to the prince was all that he could see through. the weight of your impending betrayal was like a shackle on your ankle, following you wherever you went, impossible to truly forget about. while you had yet to learn anything about the royal family that could serve as a benefit to your father, you saw your relationship with felix as a betrayal in it’s own right. if you were better, you would leave him alone - you would leave this kingdom entirely, and refuse to play any part in their downfall. but you couldn’t physically stay away.

you couldn’t stop from filing away small bits of information that might serve to be useful, either. the prince’s brother’s favorite meal, in case the opportunity to poison him came along. his father’s daily schedule, told to you by felix freely when you had asked, your fingertip running down his arm from his shoulder to his wrist. the likely areas where secrets may have been hidden, restricted to you and glossed over by felix when he would walk with you around the castle. you hated it, categorizing this information into handy little parcels that you would deliver to your father.

a welcome distraction came in the form of the very thing you should be avoiding; on a few occasions, felix had christopher and his betrothed, roseanne, accompany the two of you on whatever excursion he had planned for that day.

a simple picnic in the garden, juicy fruits picked just that morning and fresh baked bread and crumbly cheeses to snack on while the four of you talked. conversation came easy with chris and roseanne, once you broke out of the too familiar anxiety that surrounded you when with new people. felix’s warmth from where he was settled next to you, allowing you to lean into him, helped more than you wanted to tell him. chris was so similar to his brother, sharing his kindness and his humor, though his jokes were cheesier than felix’ dry sarcasm. roseanne was lovely, someone who you could see as a close friend under different circumstances.

a on a visit to the lower towns, just as lively as it was the first time you went. it was then that you officially met hyunjin and seungmin, the prince’s assistants. the way they bickered with one another, and their royal counterparts, made you laugh so hard that your stomach ached with it. even they were striking, and it left you wondering whether one’s disposition on the inside reflected their beauty on the outside.

your friendly chatter continued into mealtimes, where the kings would join you, the very few times where you would get to see king stephen at all. he bantered with his children, asking them about their days and their plans for the next ones, acted like a father instead of a king with them. it sent a pang of longing through you - your father had been like that, before. you don’t think he remembered how to be a father, anymore.

as much as you loved the prince’s company, you hated the approving nods you would get from your father whenever he saw you and felix together. the acknowledgement that you craved for just weeks ago felt near futile now - he didn’t see that instead of making the prince fall for you, the opposite was taking place. he didn’t see the genuine connection between the two of you, the way you craved for him, the way nothing else seemed to matter when he was in front of you. he didn’t care about your heart, about how it would likely break beyond compare when he he was finished here. he didn’t care about you.

the you that was falling for felix. for his compassion, for his gentle nature, for his quick wit and effortless beauty. for the way he treated those around him, for the way he spoke to you like you were more than a pawn in a cruel game of chess. it made you sick to your stomach to think about what was to come, what you hopelessly wished you could avoid. you find yourself wishing, not for the first time, that you and your father were truly here seeking peace. that you could imagine a future here without guilt gnawing at your chest.

the closer you grow to felix, the stronger the gnawing feeling in your stomach becomes. but you can’t stay away from him, even if you tried; the sparking light in his eyes drew you in and you were helpless to his magnetic pull. the way he would beckon you over with his hand, palm facing upright as if waiting to join with your own, left you no choice but to go to him. you knew you were selfish, spending time with him out of your own desires while doing nothing to warn him of what was to come and making no actions to follow through with your father’s wishes. you knew your time here, living in peace, was running short, the last dribbles of sand slipping down an hourglass.

and yet, when he finally pulled you into an empty alcove and held you close so that he could press his lips gently to yours, you let him. you responded in kind, moving together with him like some kind of dance.

when he invited you into his chambers and into his bed, you didn’t say no. even then, when he gave you all of himself, you took it.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

fire, this time contained in a ring of wooden slats, smoke curling up into the night sky. felix, by your side, you tucked into his side while the two of you claim it’s warmth for your own.

“why?” felix says, running a hand up and down your arm. you hum, snuggling further into him when a breeze makes it way to you through the trees surrounding you.

“why what?” you ask, voice syrupy sweet.

“why did you do it?” he turns towards you, the flames still visible in his eyes. he glances over your shoulder pointedly before turning back to the campfire, pulling you into him again. you look behind you, and a firestorm meets your vision. you can barely make out the outline of the beautiful palace through the inferno, but a figure stands out in the center of it. you move closer, the heat threatening to scorch your skin, to see your father strapped to stake. burning. dying.

you turn back towards felix, question dying on your lips when he’s not there. a sick feeling enters your stomach as your gaze returns to the fire, and where your father was is felix in his place.

you let out a horrid scream.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

waking up to the sight of felix, blonde hair illuminated by the morning light like a halo around his head, was something you think you could never get used to. even if you were allowed this under better circumstances, if the two of you had fallen together after meeting at a ball or a diplomatic meeting, his beauty was something that you truly could not comprehend.

you have half a mind to scold both him and yourself for breaking proprietary, for falling into bed with one another out of wedlock, as parts of two separate kingdoms that have yet to establish ties. you don’t, though; you were as much at fault as he was, and you had enjoyed it too much to ruin it for either of you. you do not acknowledge the guilt that was creeping up inside of you from your dishonesty, or the remainder of fear that lingered from your dream. looking at felix while he slept seemed like a much better way to spend your time.

he is equal parts pretty and cute when he mumbles, smacking his lips together as his eyelids flutter, holding onto the last pieces of sleep he can. when his brown eyes peek through his eyelashes and land on you, you can see the smile in his gaze.

“morning,” his deep voice rumbles, and he pulls you close to him by the waist. you land almost on top of him, his movement making you lose your balance from where you were perched on your elbow watching him, and you both let out breathless laughter at your undignified flailing. you settle against him, his chest pillowing your head while you trace senseless patterns into whatever patches of skin you can find.

you can still feel the phantom touches that he had imprinted on you the night before, as he held you more gently than anyone ever had. you can feel the silky smooth strands of his hair under your fingers, the ghost of his breath panting against your neck. you can hear the sweet sounds you pulled out of him over and over.

“penny for your thoughts?” he asks, just as he did when he met you in the gardens the very first time.

“mm,” you sound, not wanting to break the peaceful silence the two of you were basking in. “just thinking about my mother.”

“oh,” his face drops in sadness. not in pity, but in compassion. in empathy, for of all people he would understand; he lost his mother, too. “can i ask how she passed?”

a refusal is at the tip of your tongue, as it is when anyone asks about your mother, but it fizzles out when you look at him. you found yourself wanting to talk about this with him.

“she was sick,” you start, early memories of your childhood filtering into your head. “since i can remember, she was sick. it took over her body slowly, it took years for her to succumb to being bedridden. she would paint for hours and hours, back then, until she collapsed. but then, it took over her mind too. that was the worst part, her forgetting who my father was, who i was, forgetting who she was. when she passed, it was almost a relief, i could not stand to see her in that state of pain anymore. i was twelve, when it happened.”

“i am sorry,” his voice is deep, thick with sadness. “that sounds like something a child should never have to go through.”

“what about…” you trail off, not wanting to make it sound like the two of you were trading secrets like giggling children.

“she was murdered by bandits, in the lower towns, just a few years ago,” he answered your unfinished question. “she went further than she was supposed to go from the castle grounds, and she always refused to bring knights with her. my father blames himself, and i blamed him for a long time too. but it was not his fault.”

“i am sorry, too,” you place your hand on his cheek, hoping the weight of your caress would surpass the lack of words you offered him.

“as strange as it is to say, i-” he cuts off for a second, letting out a strangled laugh that didn’t reach his eyes. “i am glad that you understand. it is hard telling these things to people that have not experienced that kind of pain.”

you don’t think it’s strange at all. it settles something within you, the part of you that had felt so alone for years. for all of his charms, it was this display of raw honesty that transformed what you had thought to be superficial attraction into something more, something deeper.

“i feel the same,” you close your eyes, trying to tamper the nausea that arose at those words. you’re going to take his father from him too, your back-stabbing mind informs you. and his brother, you don’t deserve his comfort.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

your father calls for you that morning, sending a note to your chambers. you only see it when you finally get out of felix’ bed and make it to your own to freshen up, a smile present on your face that you can’t help.

every step you take towards your father’s chambers feels more and more like you’re signing your death wish, and the sound of his door opening several moments after you knock on it sounds like cannon-fire in your head.

“you asked for me?” you move closer to the desk where he had sat, and from your position you could see messy piles of paper with words that had been angrily scrawled on them.

“i have asked you for many things,” he starts, voice dripping with condescension. “but it is good to see that you can manage to follow simple orders.”

his passive aggression makes your blood boil; after weeks of being treated so kindly by your hosts, your patience was wearing thin in the face of your father.

“i am trying to earn their trust fully,” you try to reason. “it is taking longer than expected.”

“and sharing a bed with him is not enough? whoring yourself out to them has not given you the opportunity to find out what you need?” his words were almost enough to make your skin catch fire. how did he possibly know what you and felix had done? “complete what i have asked of you, now. the faster we finish this, the quicker we can leave this horrid place.”

leave this place, and go back to what? an empty castle where you are disrespected, forgotten, ignored? a place with no life, no joy, no laughter? you weren’t sure what you wanted anymore, but you were certain that going back was not a favorable outcome.

“i’m not a servant that you can bark orders to,” you bit out, regretting it almost instantly when he stood up so fast that his chair fell to the floor behind him.

“watch your mouth,” he growls, stalking towards you, and you take a few steps back from him. “it seems that the only thing you’ve learned from the insolent brats here is how to be weak. how to disrespect your king, the one who has clothed you and fed you since you were born.”

your king, he said. not your father.

he grabs you by the neck and pushes you back, back, back until you’re up against the door, his grip strong enough that you knew would leave behind a ring of bruises. you wish you could deem this unfamiliar, but the sensation of feeling pain caused by his hands was not uncommon.

“i am growing tired of your excuses. you think they care about you? they would kill you in an instant if they knew what you have been hiding.” he moves closer, until his face is inches from yours and you cannot look anywhere but at him. “if you know what is good for you, you will stop this insolence and do as i say.”

when he removes his grip from you, your knees give out, and you brace yourself against the doorframe to keep from falling. he returns to his desk, not sparing you a glance as you leave his chambers and close the door behind you.

you don’t notice the frightened frame that had been standing outside the door through the tears clouding your vision.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

you’re sitting at the fireplace in your chambers when you hear your door open, jeongin slipping in and closing it quietly behind him. he settles himself next to you, taking in your haggard appearance.

“your father is not here to make peace, is he?” he asks, his voice quiet and free of judgment. like he was confirming what he was already known to be true, not making an accusation.

“no,” you answer simply, too exhausted to try and lie to him. your friend. maybe the first real one you’ve ever had.

“you are helping him.” he says, letting a crumb of distress loose into his voice.

“yes.”

“you have come here under the illest of intentions, gained our trust,” he starts, calm. quiet.

“i know,” you sigh.

“you are going to hurt a lot of people.“

“i know.”

“you are going to do it, even though you do not want to.”

“i know, jeongin!” you snap, feeling guilty when he jumps a little.

“it’s just,” he’s playing with his fingers, a tell of his nerves. “i remember what it was like, at home. before, and then after. when things changed, when people became meaner. more cold, and closed off. that is why we left, and came here. don not make us go through that again.”

“i am sorry,” you whisper, a heavy, uncomfortable feeling settling in your stomach at his words. all you can offer him is an empty apology, useless as it is.

“i had hoped that you would be different. that you would stay true to who you were, or who i thought you to be.” he’s looking into the fire, not blinking as if mesmerized. as if he’s trying to dissociate from this moment in a way you wish you could. “when i saw you here, you still had it. that light, from before.”

“i do not want to do it, innie,” you choke out, echoing his words while your eyes burned. “i do not know what to do. i never wanted this, i hate it.”

“i know,” he says. “i can see it. in everything you do, your hesitation, the way you hold yourself back. but you do not understand.”

“understand what?” you’re exhausted, you don’t have it in yourself to be frustrated at him.

“that you have a choice,” he says, as if it was a simple thing. “that you can choose to end this, choose to do what you know is right.”

“i am scared,” you wobble out.

“being scared is good,” he finally breaks away from the fire, but the light in his eyes burns just as bright when he looks at you. “it makes you genuine. that is what makes you different from him. but you do not have to let that stop you.”

“i do not know how,” you whisper, voice barely carrying over to him.

“figure it out,” he says, just as quiet. “or i will do something, that you will not like. i will not let you harm my friends, no matter who you are.”

he leaves you then, slipping out of the chambers as quietly as he had come in, leaving you to your thoughts and what felt like a never ending stream of silent tears flowing from your eyes.

the next morning, you hand jeongin a note to give to hyunjin for christopher.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

the sun had been set for hours when you wrap a scarf around your neck to hind the greenish blue splotches forming around your neck and secure the buckles on your boots. you hadn’t seen felix all day, but you knew that if he asked you to spend the night with him that you wouldn’t be able to follow through with what you were about to to.

your cloak shrouds your face from anyone who might be awake as you quickly make your way through the gardens, to the bench that you often inhabited. christopher is already waiting there for you, a grim look on his face.

“why did you ask me here, my lady?” he asks, clearly confused.

“please, i need you to listen to me,” your voice is hushed, like you’re scared of anyone hearing despite the hour of day and the concealed location you had chosen.”i am going to tell you things that you will not like, but i need you to listen until the end.”

“are you alright?” he looks concerned at how desperate you sound, but you shake your head. now isn’t the time for him to worry about you.

you tell him everything. the things your father had said about his family, the plan he had concocted before even stepping foot in this kingdom, the way his demands have been increasing from your lack of progress. the way you had changed as a result of being around the people here, that you didn’t wish to play in your father’s game any longer. you watch as his face morphs from surprise to anger to betrayal and back again, a cycle of emotions that might be comical under any other circumstance.

there were many ways you could have done this; telling the king for one, but this would open the chance of him ending your life along with your father. trying again to reason with your him, making it clear that you weren’t going to comply with his demands, but you could never see him compromising his mission. there was one single thing that you had thought of that had a chance of succeeding, with your head still attached to your body.

you end your speech with a demand, simple as it is, and that’s when he shows disbelief.

“you want me to kill your father?” he asks, incredulous.

“i may have loved him once,” you admit, voice thick with emotion. “but not anymore. he is not my father anymore, he is a tyrant. there is not a single soul in the kingdoms that would benefit from him being alive.”

“how do i know i can trust you?” he raises a cool brow, indifference masking whatever he was truly feeling underneath. “what if this is part of your plot?”

“you do not have time to consider my legitimacy!” you cry out, desperate. “i have tried to delay him, to think of some way out of this. he is getting angrier by the day and i fear that he will do something without thinking, something bad, and soon.”

“why not just leave then?” he asks, as if giving you a test. for all it was worth, it was a test that you wanted to pass. “why go through all of this when you could just get out, save yourself?”

“that would not be fair to my people, to leave them with him,” your words come out more passionate than you expected them to. “they deserve better than that. and it would not be fair to you, either. you have shown me more compassion than anyone has since my mother was alive. i will not repay that kindness by leaving like a coward.”

“has he hurt you?” the question catches you off guard, as does the concern filtering through his gaze. you bite your tongue; you want to answer, tell him yes, but that tiny, frightened version of you inside stops the words from coming out. you want to pull down your scarf, show him visible proof of the way your father treats you, but your hands feel like lead. he takes your silence as a confirmation though, nodding and cursing under his breath.

“i will not kill him,” he says, and you open your mouth to beg, plead for him to listen, but he holds a hand out as he continues. “but i will keep my guard up. i will not take this lightly; my father’s life is in danger, and i will take every precaution while i gain information.”

you sigh through your nose, defeat making your body sag into the bench. this was your last chance; chris may as well have just sealed all of your fates.

“please understand,” he says, weary. “i cannot go to my father with accusations when i have no proof. i believe you, i just need evidence before i can act.”

“please, just,” you say as you stand, not wanting to ask him for another impossible task he might refuse. “do not tell felix? i cannot have him getting caught up in this. i do not want him hurt.”

“you care about him.” he states, as if he is already sure of your answer.

“more than i thought possible,” you answer, and it is the truth.

“i cannot promise you that i will keep him in the dark. he is my brother,” he frowns. “we do not keep secrets from one another.”

“please,” it’s all you can say before you walk away, pulling your hood back over your face. you can only hope that he will listen to your plea. if not for your sake, but for felix’.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

you should go to your own chambers, should stay away from felix until things were figured out, done and over. but your feet take you to his door instead of your own, and you’re inside his chambers before you can second-guess your stupid decision. you can tell he’s awake by his breathing, irregular and short, and it both pains and excites you that you are allowed to know things about him in that capacity.

“hi,” you keep your voice low, almost a purr as you climb into the bed and throw an arm around his curled up form. his nose scrunches and he wriggles a little bit, almost dislodging you, but you keep your grip strong. you don’t know when you will get this again.

“you smell like outside,” he complains, his body going lax. “where were you? i missed you.”

“just checking on some things,” you mumble into his skin, your lips finding home on the back of his neck. “i am all yours now.”

“do you not have people to check on things for you?” he asks, opening his eyes finally and turning his head towards you. you’re glad for the lack of light that keeps him from really seeing you. seeing the stress pinching your brows together, and the guilty frown that you can’t get rid of. “i have told you, my staff are there at your disposal. for whatever you need.”

“why trust others to do things i can do myself?” you quip back, the guilt of not telling him eating at you. you bury your face into his neck, hiding yourself, and the hand he tangles into your hair soothes you a bit. you feel tears welling up against your will and you let a shaky breath out into his honeyed skin.

“are you alright?” he tries to move your head up to look at you, but you refuse, shaking your head.

“i just really care about you, you know that right?” you admit, the last words you spoke to chris echoing in your head. “i didn’t expect to ever care about someone this much.”

“i care about you too,” confusion laces his words, and he runs a hand up and down your back. “are you sure you are alright?”

“i will be.”

so will he. you would make sure of it, somehow.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

felix is out of bed by the time you awaken the next morning, but it isn’t something unusual to wake up to cold sheets next to you. he is a prince, after all, and he can’t spend all hours of his day with you. if anything it’s better that he’s gone today; it will help you keep the distance that you failed to keep the night before.

you’re slow as you dress, the decision you made before you succumbed to sleep weighing heavily on your shoulders; you were going to speak to your father, for a final time. you were not going to give him a choice, you were going to rob him of the basic right that you he so often deprived you of. you were going to make him listen to you, for once.

but when you enter his chambers, he is absent from them. you try and dampen the dread creeping up your throat; surely, he wouldn’t act now? only a couple of days after you last spoke?

you approach his desk, looking for any sort of clue that might lead to his whereabouts, but what you find is worse than you’d imagined. pages upon pages of plans, detailed imagery of how he wanted to kill the king and his sons, how he wanted to enslave the people here, how he would take the resources here and let the land rot and decay, all scribbled down in near nonsensical sentences.

stupid man, leaving these out for anyone to see. you swipe them off the table, folding them neatly and tucking them into the bodice of your dress where no one would find them, just as your father enters the chambers. your hand flies to your chest, covering up what you had just done, but your father must think it an act of surprise from his lack of acknowledgement.

“what are you doing here?” he asks, eyes narrowed on you. you hold your head up even when you want to cower before him.

“the crowned prince knows of your betrayal,” you inform, watching as his eyes filled with anger. no fear, as you had expected.

“how,” he growls, making quick steps towards you and taking both of your arms in a harsh grip. his rings dig into your flesh,

“i told him,” you say, surprised when the words come out clean and leveled and your head stays up high. “i will not help you any longer. the king will know soon, and you will be thrown in prison.”

it was an empty threat; you knew the king was still unaware of what was going on.

“you would trade me for these people you barely know? the same people who killed your moth- your grandfather?” and it clicks into place. he made a mistake, he misspoke, and it showed the last of his cards that he had kept so carefully hidden from you. it’s clear now: he’s gone mad, searching for some kind of revenge, even if it is on the wrong people. he’s locked himself into some grief-fueled conspiracy, and you realize now that he’s truly lost to you. that he had been lost, for years now.

“you are not fit to rule over anything,” you snarl. “you are not fit to be a father, you are not fit to do anything more than sit here and place blame on everyone but yourself!”

he doesn’t react for several moments, searching your face for something, before letting out a bark of laughter, eyes wild.

“you ungrateful, insolent, stupid girl,” he shakes you with every word, and your teeth rattle. “you think you can threaten me?”

he raises a hand and the back of it strikes you across the cheek, metal catching on the delicate bone there. you fall to the ground, the force of it knocking you off balance, and when you raise a shaking hand to your burning skin it comes back flecked with blood.

“get out of my sight,” he spits at you, stepping around your form as if you were a mere pest before him. “this changes nothing. your threats mean nothing, but heed mine. if you ever step foot in front of me again, i will have you hanged. from now on, you are not my daughter. you are nothing.”

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

the walk to your chambers feels longer than usual despite your hurried steps, and you can’t shake the feeling that something unfortunate was going to happen, soon. what did your father mean when he said that your warning changed nothing? did he not believe you?

you don’t dwell on his clear descent to madness for long; you curse yourself for not seeing the blatant signs of it earlier, his obsession and his misplaced fury, but you know that there are more pressing issues that need your attention.

perhaps a further look at his aimless scribbling would give you some answers. either way, it was the proof you needed, the evidence chris claimed was necessary to have before approaching king stephen with your claims. you knew needed to act, and soon.

when you find felix already in your chambers, his presence is enough to qualm the hurricane raging under your skin. it comes back full force, though, when you look at him and he’s angry.

“when were you going to tell me,” he starts, voice ice cold like you’ve never heard it before. it terrified you. “that you were planning to kill my family?”

“what?” you gasp out, every nerve in your body freezing to stone. any urgency you were feeling regarding your father is wiped out, replaced with cold trepidation. chris told him.

“you came here to kill my father, to kill my brother and his love and to, to use me,” he grits out, voice trembling, and you can’t stand it.

“no, i-” you choke out, the words escaping you. you wanted to tell him everything, wanted to show him what you had found and bring the evidence to his father together, but you can’t get it out. “maybe at first, but no, not anymore-”

“not anymore?” he cries out, incredulous. “how can i trust anything you say to me? you’ve been lying to me since you got here, lying about everything, lying about caring for me-”

“no, felix, i love you,” the confession rips out of you and the timing couldn’t be worse. you wanted to tell him after, when things were not in the uncertain state they were in now. you wanted to give him the confession he deserved, something worthy of the man that he was. he shakes his head at your words, crystal tears forming in his eyes.

“you do not get to say that to me,” he bites out. “i do not even know who you are, you have been lying to me from the beginning, playing with me, you do not get to say that.”

“i did not want to,” you almost wail, the feeling in your knees giving out as you fall to his feet. the emotions that you haven’t been letting yourself feel were pouring out of you. “i did not want to, but he would have killed me, or married me off to some brute to get rid of me and i had no idea what to do.”

you want to shout, look at what he did to me, look at the evidence of what he would do to me, but you can’t.

“stop. stop talking.” he drags you to your feet by the arm, grip harsh like he would rather do anything than be touching you right now. “get out of my chambers. i want you and your father out of my home, and if you do not leave i swear to the gods i will tell my father to have you hanged.”

you stumble towards his door, turning back to throw one last pleading glance at him, and you regret it as his next words cut you right to the core.

“they warned me about you, did you know that?” he’s no longer speaking out anger, but rather cold indifference. it’s worse, somehow. you wanted to ask who they were, but in the moment it truly didn’t matter. “they told me about your family, how vile you all are. how you would poison us from the inside. but when i laid eyes on you, i did not believe them. i know now, that i should have.”

your body remains frozen long after he leaves, and you don’t realize that your body has moved to your bed until jeongin peeks his head into the door.

“innie,” you choke out from where you’re laying over the covers. he rushes to your side, and his face falls when he sees the tears leaking from your eyes.

“what happened?” he pushes your hair out of your face with the tips of his fingers, so gentle that you can’t help but let out a sob.

“felix,” you stutter out. “he hates me- he wants me gone. and i don’t blame him, i hate me, but innie, it hurts.”

you let jeongin pull you into his arms, tears leaking into his shirt, and even then your traitorous heart wishes it was felix holding you like this. the last thing you remember before sleep clouds your mind is jeongin whispering i’m sorry into your hair.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

fire, but this time it surrounds you. not burning, but encasing you in warmth, covering your body completely. it spreads, catching onto the surfaces around you.

it’s threatening to combust, taking you with it. you didn’t know what do to. flee? protect, your mind demands. so you run, past door after door, passing by people who beckon you inside. you can’t, you need to leave.

chris, asking you to come inside. minho, calling you in for a meal, fresh and fragrant. jeongin, asking you to join him, telling you he’s worried about you.

felix, standing still as stone on his balcony. your father behind him, eyes dark as they narrow in on the prince. no.

you rush to them, gliding past felix, your flame sliding off his skin like water. you push your father away, your momentum carrying the both of you forward as the flames catch on his frame.

falling, falling, falling, off the balcony towards an endless pit of darkness. you look up and felix is watching, beautiful face twisted in anguish as he watches the two of you plummet.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

you didn’t leave. despite felix’ warnings, you didn’t make any moves to flee the castle. you needed to see this through, needed to ensure that the people here were safe; the only way you would leave this palace is in the absence of your father’s company. if you were going to die, you would rather it be by stephen’s hands than by his.

you almost don’t leave your chambers, terror paralyzing you as you sit on your bed, waiting nervously for something to happen. whether it be news from christopher about his efforts or a group of knights ready to take you to the dungeons, your body itched for some action. you don’t leave for breakfast, and you don’t let jeongin in when he quietly brings you a meal and leaves it at your door. you pick at it, watching the morning sun rise into the sky and wishing you had a jug of wine to drown yourself in.

by midday, you had made up your mind; you were going to enter the king’s chambers, deliver him the information you had, and sneak away from the palace at night. where you would go, you did not know, but you knew that you were not welcome in either court anymore. you had ostracized yourself from your home and from the group of people here that you hoped to one day call your family.

you had no one. and it was your own doing.

you push away the thought as you hurry through the familiar halls, stopping at one of the only doors you had yet to enter. the king wasn’t in his chambers, you discovered, when you spent several minutes knocking on the door to no avail. the council chambers were empty as well, and you felt your heart speed up as you raced through the halls, avoiding any person you saw. your boots clicked on the stone as you hastily entered and exited chambers and hallways, searching desperately for the king, hoping he was here somewhere.

you find them in the banquet hall, a smile on stephen’s face as he signs a long document with a feathered quill. you’re not close enough to see what it is from you’re standing behind a column at the entrance to the hall, hiding your presence from them. your father moves to stand next to the king when he finishes, leaning in close as he takes the quill from him, and he raises his hand behind the king’s back. in his hand, sunlight glints off of a piece of metal in his hand - a knife,

you look around desperately for a knight to alert, but you find none. why are there no knights here? your stomach lodges itself into your throat as you stare at the two kings, frozen as your father readies the knife, poised to strike stephen right in the center of his back -

“no!” you cry, breaking away from the spot you were glued to as you run faster than thought was possible have towards them. your father turns towards your voice in shock, the knife slicing through the king’s side in a clean movement, and the king falls.

“what are you doing?” your father snarls, the man by his feet forgotten as his attention turns to you. you spare stephen a glance, meeting his wide eyes, and you hope he can see the apology in yours. your father’s forward movement moves your attention to him, and you see him stalking towards you with his knife poised. “i am growing tired of your foolishness, you wretched girl.”

“if you want to kill someone, kill me. not him,” you plead, backing away from him. “he did not kill her, you know that. this, this delusion you are living under, it needs to stop!”

“do not speak of her to me,” you can see his anger rising, redness traveling up his neck. “you are a poor excuse of a woman compared to her. you know nothing. everything i have done, i have done for her, and i will kill you and the rest of them if i need to.”

you’ve heard your father recount his killing of countless adversaries, spoken in cold tones with no regret, but to see him with his weapon raised at you is something you had never imagined in all of your days. it was a truly terrifying sight.

he backs you into the same column you had been hiding behind earlier, a mirror image of the way he had cornered you in his bedchambers days ago. his free hand circles your neck, covering the bruises that he had left behind then, and your hands fly to his wrist.

“this will never free you,” you choke out, tears brimming in your eyes that make your vision blurry. this way, when you look at him, his features are so unfocused that he almost looks like he used to, when he was sane. kind. “do you not understand? this will not bring her back. you will be truly alone.”

“better to be alone than living with you as a reminder of what i have lost,” he says softly, the sharp blade of the knife pressed to your side, stinging as it nicks your skin.

you close your eyes, resigned to your fate. this was how it was going to end, no matter what. you, suffering from the result of his hands, his jolted mind. you, a mere ghost of your mother, biding your time in this world until he decided that you had none left. living a life that would never truly be your own.

no.

your eyes fly open and meet his and he hesitates, the knife pulling back the smallest bit. you take the chance, your hand moves from one of his wrists to the other and you twist, taking in a sharp breath when he gasps and lets the knife clatter to the floor. he lets go of your neck and you drop, grabbing the handle of the knife with a shaky hand and slashing upwards, hoping that it would land somewhere.

he drops to the floor with a howl of pain, clutching at his thigh, and in the next moment you’re on top of him, pinning him to the floor with a knee to his stomach. the knife is still in your hand, unmoving from how strongly your fingers were grasped around the handle. it would be so easy to plunge it into his chest, so simple. you would finally be free.

you barely register when several knights finally barge into the hall, swords pointed at the two of you. your focus was purely on the man under you, at the madness swimming in his eyes and the ugly curl of his mouth shaped in scowl.

“you will not do it. you are weak,” he wheezes out, confident even as he struggles to speak from your weight on him.

you raise the knife.

a moment of tense silence.

and felix calls out your name. the only voice that could break you away from the trance you were in. his lovely voice, shaped in your name.

when you meet his eyes you drop the knife, and you’re pushed away from your father when by knights who move to secure him in shackles. you stand on wobbly feet, taking in the hall - felix, hovering by your side, hands raised as if he wanted to touch you but couldn’t. chris, standing by his father’s side, supporting him as he rises from the floor. blood drips down his side, but not an alarming amount. he would be fine. your own father, cursing angrily at the guards who were keeping him restrained, his words passing through you with no recognition.

you’re sure you looked horrible, in this moment. hair a mess, chest still heaving, clothes torn. you didn’t belong here. you drop your father’s papers that you kept hidden in your clothing to the ground, watching them flutter before settling, face up for all to see.

“i will leave at first light,” is the last thing you say before leaving the king, the princes, and your father behind you.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

you didn’t look at your own reflection until the next morning. your face was a horrible painting of blues and blacks, and the bruises on your neck are fading into green, though you’re sure more were forming underneath them.

you look horrible.

you didn’t come with many things, and most of them were unnecessary for where you were about to go; traveling into the woods didn’t require fancy dresses and jewelry, so as you packed your bag you left them behind.

the last thing you expected was for felix to push the door to your chambers open, a noisier affair than you were used to from the way the door banged against the wall.

“you are still here,” he breathes out, panting a bit like he ran here. he eyes the bag you were holding warily.

“i am,” you answer, fear seeping into your veins as he moves closer to you. not of him, never of him, but of the power he held over you. of the way his words could break your heart into more fractures than it already was in.

“your father is in line for execution, at midday,” he informs, placing a hand on top of yours when he reaches you, his warm skin stinging the ice-cold skin of your own.

“good,” it’s the only thing you can think to say. the only reaction you can muster from learning that your father was about to die, like you had wished him to.

“chris told me what you asked him to do,” he says, voice low. “i did not stay long enough to hear the whole story, when he told me the other day. i came to you in anger, and i did not listen to you either. i am sorry.”

his voice wobbles in sorrow, and it breaks your heart.

“no, do not be,” you whisper, flipping your hand around so you could tangle your fingers with his. you wanted to feel him like this, at least one more time. “i should have been honest with you. when i chose to go against him, when i chose you, i should have told you.”

“you were scared,” he strokes the back of your hand with his thumb. “of him. and of us, i presume. i cannot fault you for that.”

“i was scared, but-” you cut yourself off, trying to find the right words. he waits for you patiently, eyes trained on your features. “since my mother died, my life has not been my own. i have not been allowed to make my own decisions, i don’t know how to…do this. that is no one’s fault but my own.”

“this?” he asks, velvet soft as he seeks for clarification.

“to be honest about things. to trust people with what’s going on. to…not be scared of people’s reactions,” even this show of candor was sending your heart into a frenzied pace. “i do not know how.”

“then let me teach you,” you can hear the tears in his voice but you don’t look up to meet them. you didn’t think you could handle it. selfish. “please. i do not know what you are planning to do - after, but please do not leave.”

“felix, i have never felt more free than i have here, in this kingdom, with your people. with your family,” you squeeze your fingers around his hand, the only thing you could bring yourself to do. “with you. you have already taught me so much. how do i continue to take and take from you like this?”

“you do not owe me anything,” he vows, bowing his head a bit. “anything i give to you, i give gladly. i act without thinking and i make rash decisions, too. do not think that i am not learning from you in turn. if it were not for jeongin finding me and explaining things to me yesterday, i would have done something horrid. i could have lost you, do you understand? you and i, we are not so different.”

jeongin. once this was all over, you were going to award that boy a house. or a village. whatever he wanted.

“did he do this to you?” he says when you don’t answer, raising one hand to the bruising around your neck and another to your cheek, feather-light fingertips tracing along the lines. “did he hurt you?”

“yes,” you breathe out, admitting for the first time to someone other than yourself what kind of man your father truly is. letting yourself accept that maybe, it was not your fault. that maybe, you deserved something better.

you stayed.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

chris meets the two of you outside your chambers hours later, looking more exhausted than you’ve seen him before. he takes in your linked hands with a smile.

“felix told you?” he asks, gentle. you nod, leaning into felix. “i am sorry, that i did not do more. that it came to that.”

“do not apologize,” you say, resolute. “if anyone should be sorry, it is me. for putting you all through this.”

“if anyone needs to apologize, it is your father,” felix swears, his grip on your hand tightening. “if he was not already on his way, i would kill him myself for hurting you.”

you squeeze his hand back, hoping the gesture would bring him some comfort. violence was not a color that you think shaded felix often, but you couldn’t deny that his protectiveness was attractive.

it is chris’ duty to oversee the affair, but you cannot bring yourself to accompany him. the thought of seeing your father again, restrained and awaiting death, was not something that you wished to experience.

felix stays with you, guiding you through the halls and into his bed, holding you tight the entire time. his presence by your side is overrides the myriad of negative emotions inside of you and for once, your mind is quiet, failing to remind you that you needing felix in this moment was self-serving. it’s as if the thoughts were dying along with your last-living relative.

you wished that you felt happy, relieved to be released from him. or even sorrow, full of grief for your lost father. but you felt nothing.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

chris enters felix’ chambers at dusk, waking you and felix from the sleep that neither of you intended to fall into.

“my father wishes to see you,” he addresses to you, waiting with leveled patience as the two of you slowly rise from the bed.

“is he angry?” your voice comes out as a whisper, betraying your anxiety.

“yes, but not at you,” he assures, settling a hand on your shoulder, his touch light. “do not worry.”

but you did worry, all throughout the walk to the king’s advisory chambers to when you enter the door, startling him out of whatever hushed conversation he was engaged in with his staff. when he looks at you he is angry, and you’re glad in that moment for christopher’s warning. you moved with more confidence than you truly had, chris and felix’ presence at your sides helping more than you cared to admit.

“you wanted to see me, sire?” you ask, your hands wringing together. felix takes one of them into his own, if only to stop your movements.

“i wanted to discuss things with you,” stephen waves off his advisors, waiting for them to leave the chambers before continuing. “regarding your father.”

“my father is dead,” you state plainly, moving forward until you were in front of the king. “i swear fealty to you, my lord.”

you slowly knelt at his feet, gasping in surprise when felix knelt by your side.

“whatever i can do to prove my loyalty, i will do it,” you assured, keeping your head down. normally, you would internally bristle at the thought of kneeling before a king like this, in an act of submission, but this time it was different. this time, it was your choice.

“you have proven your loyalty by going against your own kin, my child,” his voice was thick with emotion. “please, stand.”

you don’t, until felix does and pulls you along with him. you’re confused at his immediate acceptance of you, the daughter of a man who wished him such ill-will. you look at him and you’re sure he can see the puzzlement on your face.

“i did not ask for you here to make you prove yourself,” he explains, gesturing at the papers strewn about the table. your father’s notes. “i simply wished to thank you, for preventing such heinous acts from occurring. these notes…” he pauses, as if gathering his thoughts. “are unsettling. more were found in his chambers, detailing increasingly vicious flights of fancy.”

you would learn later that in your father’s notes were his plans for you, for once his own were executed. perhaps stephen felt pity for you as a result of what he saw. when you meet eyes with the king, any trace of anger is gone, replaced with a deep kind of sadness.

“thank you, for keeping my family safe at the sake of your own welfare. anything you wish for, i will grant it.”

your mind screams at you that you don’t deserve it, that you had put them in more harm than anything, that he doesn’t owe you any kindness.

“i wish for nothing that i do not already have,” you glance at felix, shooting him a small smile when you notice the pride gleaming on his face.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

it takes less of jumping through diplomatic hoops than you would have expected to sign your kingdom over to stephen. the lands were adjacent to one another, so rearranging property lines was as simple as removing a single line from a parchment map. you learned that it was more common than you had originally thought to combine kingdoms, though usually it resulted from acts of war. you were queen for all of two days before officially resigning.

your father, for all his boasting, did not carry many alliances with other nations, and the ones he did have stephen was glad to cut off. your father’s knights did little more than grumble about having to change their colors, and the ones that refused to were promptly dismissed from service.

the castle that was once your home was a different case; you never wished to go back there, other than to gather the things that still held your mother’s touch. that place hasn’t been a home to you in a while, but you decided that it could be a home to someone.

it would take some time, but you had plans to turn the palace into an orphanage. a place where everyone and anyone could come and seek shelter, food and water, and company. it was the least you could do for your people, who had suffered under your blind eye for over a decade while you sat in your chambers, ignorant to all that was going on outside the palace walls.

the biggest relief was the weight of your kingdom off of your shoulders. maybe it was selfish to think that way, but you had never asked for that life. you knew your people were in better hands with stephen than they ever would have been with your bloodline, and you could think of no better successors than chris and roseanne.

you had your ladies in waiting brought from your old palace, but they did little more than help you dress. jeongin had become your formal assistant, but you considered him a friend and a confidant more than anything. you had offered him and his family whatever he wanted, now that the riches your father held were in your name, but he had refused. he simply asked for a new house in the lower village for his parents and siblings, but stated that he wished to remain in the castle.

you and felix decided to hold off on announcing a formal betrothal, deeming it wiser to let the kingdom that had nearly doubled in size settle first. you had not been together long, after all, and most of your time together was spent with you under a guise. you took the time to relearn each other, to memorize every miniscule detail of the other’s personality, your habits and your mannerisms and your preferences. despite your earlier reservations, propriety mattered little with the two of you; you spent even more time together than you did before, and you had all but moved into his chambers, only using yours when you wanted someplace quiet to think.

you don’t remember a time when you were happier than you were now. for the first time in your life, you looked toward the future with brightness.

#stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #lee felix fluff #lee felix imagines #felix x reader #stray kids x y/n #skz fluff #stray kids fic #stray kids hurt/comfort #lee felix x reader #lee felix x you #lee felix x y/n #lee felix fanfic #felix imagines

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bestiesenpai · 5 months ago

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sukuna bridgerton au

If you get mad at me for this then you’re no fun, he’s a little ooc in this but im world building! I intend to write more! Mini blurbs/fics and build a whole universe! Gosh! Tried to be accurate to regency era stuff but also took liberty with some things 6k words

part two — part three -- part four

Femme reader, you’re a proper young miss aint ya kekw

You are perfect. The Queen's diamond of the season and someone everyone knew by name. There is nothing you have not been prepared for, no social setting that you are unable to make your own. Since you were born your parents had instilled every rule in society onto you, every skill a young lady should have and even some men have as well, to cover every possible avenue.

Perfect indeed, with not only needlework and the pianoforte, but you spoke more than one language and were delightfully decent at drawing. Learning the harp and more advanced bookkeeping skills were on your current roster, the governess keeping not only you but your siblings busy before the beginning of all the balls and suitors calling for your attention.

“(Y/N), there are a great deal of callers outside waiting for your attention.” Your mother debriefed you at the start of the day, after having the maids dress you to her exact specifications. “You remember what I taught you, yes?”

“Yes. Be courteous and make sure to smile, but not too much or they might get the wrong idea. I shouldn’t appear to know too much about one subject, lest they get discouraged from speaking.”

“Perfect.” Snapping her fingers happily, your mother put a hand on your shoulder and sighed, smoothing down the sleeve of your dress. “I am so proud of the person you’ve become, (Y/N). I hope you know that.”

“I do, mother.” Hugging her tightly, you steeled your nerves. She had done the best possible for you your whole life to ensure you would be ready for the society you live in and to hopefully elevate your station in life, one that could afford you even more comfort than you had now.

“Bring the first one in.” Your father announced, ushering the two of you to come to a stand as the doors were opened and the first gentleman of the day came in, a modest but endearing bouquet of flowers in his hands. Making sure to curtsy immediately, you welcomed him in and brought him to the sofas where a proper conversation could be had.

And that went on for ages, one after the other, until you feared your voice would go hoarse from all the talking and fake laughter you had to do. It wasn’t that the men that came to see you were bad in any way, just that you hoped for a bit more excitement upon entering the season. There had yet to be anyone that swept you off your feet, made you wish they stayed just a bit longer and looked at you a bit more.

“Mother, may we stop for today?” You were unable to hold your posture anymore and your back bent considerably, allowing you to relax and look out the window at the sun slowly fading from afternoon to early evening.

“We may. Send the rest away, let them schedule for another time.” Motioning to a footman, your mother conceded to your wishes. “It’s about time for dinner, is it not?”

“Mr. Downey, that old man called upon you?” The next day, a chorus of giggles could be heard in the park from you and your friends. You were recounting all the visitors you had, not sparing a single detail.

“Yes!” You laughed, unable to contain yourself as you strode arm in arm with them around the park lake. “But Father wouldn’t let him step a single toe into the parlor, told him to go down to the alleys he’s usually found in!”

“Oh dear!” Another round of shouts and laughs left the group, boisterous as ever as you all were excited for the upcoming ball at the end of the week being held by the Queen herself. Her royal advisor had seen to it that you were personally handed an invitation at the modiste this morning, letting everyone see the fanfare and the adoration the Queen so had for you.

“(Y/N), you really are Her Majesty’s favorite diamond!” Someone exclaimed, squeezing your hand tightly. “I can’t remember the last time she did something like this!”

“I wonder what it could all mean.” Another girl wonders aloud, making you all come to a stop and think. “I bet there’s some aristocrat in town she wants to impress!”

“Could you imagine!” You jump up slightly, your mind beginning to race. “And me as Her Majesty’s precious diamond at the center…” A flurry of giggles left the group and you began to walk again, chattering excitedly about the future.

The time for the ball came and you were dressed in the finest silks and jewels the modiste had to offer, and a dainty necklace laid on your neck adorned with small diamonds of its own. Butterflies arose in your stomach on the carriage ride over and by the time you arrived you worried about fainting upon standing.

“Stay close.” Your mother tells you, keeping your arm in the crook of hers as you enter the party behind your father, your other siblings behind you as well. Entering the main ballroom, you try not to openly gawk at the grandiosity of it all; there was a large orchestra in the middle of the room, peacocks milling about the garden just outside the open doors and too many servants to count carrying hors d'oeuvres that looked absolutely divine.

“A drink, miss?” One of them approached with a tray of cocktails which you swiftly accepted, eager to fit in with the other patrons. Taking a sip, you were nearly knocked back from the strong bite of alcohol and almost let your composure slip.

“(Y/N).” Your mother squeezed you in warning, never letting the smile slip from her face as her tone conveyed high stress. “Do not mess this up.” And those were her final words to you before you were ushered further into the room.

Quickly righting yourself, you followed your mothers steps in introducing you to everyone and making sure to show you off to eligible bachelors and their families of high titles. Your heart pounded upon meeting earls and marquess’, forcing yourself to not appear too awestruck of a title; appearing perfectly pleased at the information and not showing favor one way or another.

“Time to greet Her Majesty.” Your mother whispered, subtly gesturing to the entourage entering the room and causing quite a stir amongst your fellow partygoers. As she took her seat, you couldn’t help but notice the two empty chairs seated behind the queen and how she looked miffed that one was not being filled upon her arrival.

Milling about so as not to appear too eager, roughly five minutes passed before you made your way over to the queen. The drink you’d been nursing was finally empty and you could feel the burning effects of the alcohol take place, making your face burn and palms sweaty beneath your gloves.

“Your Majesty.” Speaking for the both of you, your mother led you into a curtsy. Standing straight, you let your eyes wander to the chairs, wondering who could be missing from such an event.

“My diamond.” Her Majesty reached out her hand which you instantly took, softly kissing the skin and giving another curtsy.

“Your Majesty.” You responded in kind, giving her a somewhat nervous smile. “This is a beautiful party.” Looking around, you finally let your true feelings show for a moment as you properly soaked it all in. “I am amazed at how you manage to throw such exquisite soirees each season.”

“Oh how you flatter me!” A light chuckle left Her Majesty’s lips and she allowed you to look around a bit more before speaking again. “Tell me, have any suitors caught your eye?”

“Well…” Looking back at your mother, you let out a breathless chuckle. “None have truly captured me, Your Majesty. Some interest me and others vex me, but no one has yet to steal my heart.”

“That is very pleasing.” She grinned, knowing something you did not. “Very pleasing indeed.” Waving over one of her attendants, she whispered something into their ear and off they went as if they had never been there at all. “Take to the floor, my dear, I shall call upon you soon again.”

“Yes, thank you, Your Majesty.” Curtsying again, you and your mother left to go enjoy the party. It wasn’t clear what the Queen had in mind but every time you looked over your shoulder you found her eyes on you and that made you nervous enough to get another drink and not care about the taste.

“Mother, I must use the restroom.” Hardly finished with the glass, you felt an upset in your stomach that couldn’t be ignored. Waiting just enough time for her to excuse you from the group you’d been speaking with, you rushed out of the room and down the hall, thankfully guided by servants to the nearest restroom.

Relieving yourself rather quickly, you were in no hurry to return to the party. This was the first time you were in the palace and your curiosity couldn’t help but get the better of you. Looking over your shoulder a few times, you walked as casually as possible down the hall in the opposite direction. Marveling at the grandeur, you hardly took note of where you were going until a loud thud brought you out of your thoughts. Looking around, you realized you were quite far from the party, the sounds of the orchestra a distant buzz.

“Fuck!” The vulgarity of the word along with its suddenness nearly knocked you to the ground. Grabbing at your necklace, you shuddered at the next few words that came out; this wasn’t proper for a lady to hear at all. Locating the source from an open doorway, you intended on closing it until you caught a glimpse of what was inside.

A completely naked woman was being pinned to a bookshelf by a man with his pants around his thighs, the violent motion of his hips leaving nothing to the imagination. She looked to be in pain, wincing and whining every so often as the man just kept going. He took so little notice of her, in fact, that her head hit the shelves a few times and although she cried out he didn’t falter.

“Fuck!” He yelled again, grabbing the woman's hair and forcing her head to the side. He did finally slow down and straighten up a bit, finally allowing you to see his pink hair. “Fucking whore.” And just like that, the relative slowness was gone and back was this man's brutality. Forcing the woman to walk over to the desk a bit closer to you, you quickly ducked out of the way before you saw something you shouldn’t. It was quiet for a moment and there was a shuffling sound before the door was ripped open further and you couldn't help the shout you let out.

“Who the fuck- oh. Oh?” The man was clearly ready for a fight but upon seeing you, his face changed into a sly smile. He at least had the decency to dress himself, though you kept your eyes trained onto his face and occasionally the ceiling to preserve your modesty. “Well, aren’t you a ravishing creature…come to join the fun?”

“Absolutely not!” Leaping back at his proposition, your face curled in disgust. He laughed loudly, fully taking in your appearance.

“No of course not, why would you? You are a lady, so prim and proper.” He stretched the word out, almost mocking you with the connotation. “You belong at the party, Miss, so run along before someone catches us alone and we’ll be forced to marry.” Raising his hand in goodbye, the man left you, laughter still on his lips as he slammed the door closed.

All but running back to the party, you avoided your mother in favor of going out to the garden with a few friends that were thankfully in attendance; a chance to marvel at the peacocks and performers outside would give you a chance to catch your breath and forget about what you’d just seen.

“Miss (Y/N), the Queen calls for you.” A servant notified you just as the air turned a bit too chilly for your liking. Bidding your friends farewell, you made your way inside. The polite smile on your face dropped immediately at seeing just why the queen summoned you.

“Ah, my diamond.” Her affectionate tone forced the smile right back on your face but your eyes stayed glued to the person behind her. There, dressed in the finest fabrics and with his cravat intricately tied, was the man you’d seen earlier. As he stood at the Queen’s motion, you noticed the freshly pressed pants and shiny boots he had on and the dazzling watch dangling from a chain.

“This is my nephew, you might have heard of him. The Crown Prince, Ryomen Sukuna.” As she spoke, the Queen's voice grew louder, drawing the attention of everyone within earshot and even those that didn’t hear. “I’ve invited him here personally just to meet you.” A small smirk adorned her face as she took in the crowd before her and the stir her words caused. And it grew even bigger upon seeing your face, the horrored expression mistaken for overjoy.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss (Y/N).” Sukuna made a show of bowing deeply to you.

“Come, sit down and chat for a while, won’t you?” Her request was truly a demand and you knew better than to hesitate or question it, so you nodded and did as you were told.

Taking a seat, you kept your body rigid and faced straight ahead, not even giving so much as a glimpse to your side where you could tell the Crown Prince was watching you. You knew it wasn’t proper and that people - your mother especially - were watching to see how you two got on, but you couldn’t bear to turn and have a conversation with the man you’d just seen in such an uncouth position.

“It truly is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Sukuna said, a light chuckle on his lips. “Never thought the beauty I saw earlier would end up being the diamond of the season.”

“I believe you’re mistaken! We did not see each other earlier, Your Highness. This is the first time we are meeting.” Turning your head swiftly, you forced a smile onto your face instead of the scowl you wanted to show him.

“Yes, my mistake! Must have been another fair maiden that caught my eye.” Sukuna chuckled, settling into his chair just a bit more. He let a pause hang between you before he spoke again. “Tell me, diamond, do you wish to marry this season?”

“Of course I do.” You nodded, allowing yourself to relax a little as well. “It’s all I’ve been thinking about since I made my debut.”

“And what are you looking for in a husband?”

“I want one that is kind, that is loyal to me and whom I can get along with no matter what. And if he likes the arts such as I do, that would be even better.” An answer that you had rehearsed many times with your mother, the words came out of your mouth smoothly.

“Interesting.” Sukuna nodded, folding his hands over each other. “Now, tell me how you really feel.”

“I-I just did.” Quirking a brow at him, you were unsure why Sukuna required more from you on the matter.

“I can tell those aren’t your real words. Tell me how you truly feel.” His face was neutral but not serious or uncomfortable; he seemed to genuinely want an answer from you.

“I…” It took a while but eventually the thoughts you’d suppressed in favor of your mothers came to the surface and you looked down at your gloved hands. “I want someone I can be myself with, someone I won’t need to put on a mask for. And a husband that can value my privacy and give me my own space.” There was more you wanted to say but you stopped yourself; no use in rambling to the man when you could save it for your diary later.

“That’s good to hear, actually.” His response surprised you and had you turning more towards him.

“Really?” There was a tinge of hope growing inside you, one that said maybe the man from earlier wasn’t who he truly was.

“Yes. I’ll need a wife that can leave me the hell alone.” And with that, the tinge died out and your face fell.

“Wh-what?”

“Yes, as you will undoubtedly hear about later I enjoy some rather…unconventional pastimes and leisurely activities and if we are to be wed I’ll take great joy in the fact that you won’t interfere with that.”

“But I-”

“Oh don’t worry, Miss (Y/N), I will give you all the babies you desire if you so wish, but just know my heart will never belong to just one woman. It’s not the way royalty does it, I’m sure you can understand.” Giving you a tight lipped and condescending smile, Sukuna stood from his chair and excused himself, mentioning something about getting the two of you a drink.

“So, what do you think of my nephew?” The Queen asked when he was out of earshot, turning slightly in her chair to look at you.

“He- he is a good conversationalist.” You forced the words out, hoping that the Queen wouldn’t be able to pick up on how your eyes were growing misty despite your best efforts to blink the tears away. “I quite enjoyed some of the ideas he’s shared with me.”

“Wonderful, darling.” There was a tension in the air, like she knew what had happened between the two of you. But she chose not to say anything, instead turning back around as the orchestra played the next song. “Sukuna.” She caught him as he came back, two glasses in hand.

“Yes?” His eyes flicked to you for a moment.

“Dance with Miss (Y/N), will you? I want her to enjoy the party.” The tension in the air was back and Sukuna nodded and swiftly put the glasses down. Standing before you, he offered you his hand.

“Right this way.”

“Of course.” Inhaling sharply, you forced your feelings down and took his hand, letting him lead you to the dance floor. As the song began to start up, you could feel the eyes on you, watching your every move with the Prince and the chemistry you had when dancing.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.” Sukuna said quietly, his hands resting on your upper back a moment before taking a few steps. “I simply want you to know the truth if you accept the proposal.”

You didn’t respond to him, letting the words soak in. In the moment it had seemed almost cruel that he had spoken to you like that, said those things and dismissed your feelings, hopes and dreams, but thinking about it gave you another perspective. You knew many men in town that had affairs and secret lovers that would never admit it but here was a man that was willing to be honest with you. A man that had no obligation to spare your feelings or protect them.

“Why did you even agree to come then, if that is how you truly feel about marriage?” You finally spoke, looking into his eyes.

“You know as well as I do that we have a responsibility to do this, to get married and play these silly societal games. When my aunt called me I had no choice but to come, you can’t exactly say no to the woman. And I figured why not meet her precious diamond and see what she had to offer, see if I could build the life the world expects of me with her.”

“And what is your verdict?” Sukuna spun you around as you asked and your head laid briefly on his shoulder, catching the scent of his perfume before you were twirled away again.

“I think you’d make a lovely bride, Miss (Y/N). There may be some hardships but I believe we could learn to be happy with each other and our arrangements.” Spinning you a few more times, Sukuna gently helped you to a stop. “I ask you to be aware of what the Queen will ask you soon, what I will be asking you soon. You can always say no.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” As the dance ended, you curtseyed and excused yourself. Slinking away to the refreshments table, you had nary a chance to sip some lemonade before a few more men approached, asking to write in your dance card.

As the night wore on, you danced with many more suitors and eligible young men about town, some that had already called on you and others that were waiting their turn. Some of them were dukes and earls and even a marquess came to you, but none held as high a title as Sukuna did. And with your parents eyes on you, you knew that was what mattered the most.

Going through everyone in your mind, there wasn’t a doubt that some would definitely be better matches for you than Sukuna in the realms of compatibility and chemistry but none would be as wise a choice as he was. Marrying a crown prince of all people would solidify your station in life forever; you and your family would want for nothing and you’d never have to worry about needing to follow the latest trends in fashion because you would be the one setting them.

“His Highness Prince Sukuna surely took a liking to you tonight.” Your mother was alight on the carriage ride home, fanning herself ardently. “Why, I do believe the Queen intends on you to be married before the season is over!”

“From a baroness to a princess, how marvelous that would be!” Unable to stop his excitement either, your father chimed in. It seemed they had already accepted the Prince's proposal on your behalf even though it hadn’t come yet. You didn’t have the heart to tell them that he wasn’t really a good fit for you, that you worried you’d never be truly happy in the marriage and you’d always feel less than when it came to how he felt about you.

“Delightful indeed.” Was what you said instead, allowing your parents to revel in this moment and trying to convince yourself that it couldn’t be that bad to marry a prince, especially if it meant that one day you’d be a queen.

May 14

Diary, I fear that I won’t be able to back out of this arrangement even if I say no to it like Sukuna said I could. If I say no, I know I will have many other suitors knocking at my door but none as prestigious as he is and I can’t bear to possibly face the disappointment of my family if I deny them this great opportunity.

I know I wouldn’t be the first or the last to enter into a marriage like this but I had truly hoped that I could have escaped that fate and found real love, true love! It’s rare but a girl can dream, especially one named as the Queens diamond. You’d think I’d have more time to decide on who to marry!

I suppose I have no choice but to say yes to this, don’t I? Sukuna said he would give me my privacy, so I can at least continue to write here without fear of being judged. I just wonder what the life of a princess will entail and how many new rules will I be forced to learn?

Here's hoping that we can at least grow to have a liking for each other over time, but I know better than to wait around for love.

It was a few days after the ball before you heard word from either Sukuna or the Queen. You knew it was coming but the anxiety of waiting had you pouring too much energy into the other men that called you.

“A visitor for Miss (Y/N) has arrived.” It was announced one afternoon, immediately kicking your heart into overdrive. It was a good thing you had felt the need to dress a little nicer today as your visitor presented himself, none other than the prince.

“Your Highness!” Your mother exclaimed, overjoyed and forcing your siblings to stand as well and greet him. They all bowed or curtseyed, some too young to understand exactly who they were greeting.

“Good day to you all.” Sukuna gave a small bow in return, eyeing up your family before turning to you. “Miss (Y/N), I was hoping we might promenade today around the park? The weather is quite lovely and there are a fair amount of swans out there I’m told.” His offer surprised you, you were sure he was going to ask for your hand right then and there.

“That would be lovely.” You nodded, looking back at your mother who would no doubt chaperone this outing. “Allow me to grab my purse and a shawl.” Excusing yourself, it took no less than five minutes for you to be ready and heading out the house with Sukuna by your side, your entire family not but five feet behind you.

“I’m surprised you called upon me today.” You said upon reaching the park, waving to a few friends who were also on dates. “I was certain that the next time I saw you there would be a ring put upon my finger.”

“Young Miss, please have more faith in me. I thought it only right to court you as the others have, to see if we are truly to be a good match or not.” Sukuna put a hand over his heart in jest.

“Was that your idea or the Queens?”

“I’ll be honest it was her idea, but I have no problem going along with it. It’s only right that we get to know each other a bit more before we are wed.”

“You talk so certainly that I’ll say yes! Who said I wanted to marry you?” His arrogance was starting to annoy you, and the fact that he couldn’t even feign that he was the one interested in learning more about you irritated you to no end.

“Please, would you even think of saying no?” Sukuna quirked a brow at you as you came to a stop to admire a pair of swans. “I am the best match you have to make, one that would elevate your status so highly it would make your head spin. And beside…” He trailed off, looking around at the people in the park. “This sorry lot you associate with aren’t exactly highbrow to begin with.”

“That’s enough!” You shouted, taking a step back from him. A few curious looks were sent your way and you could see your mother start to approach from the corner of your eye before your father stopped her. “Do not dare speak of my friends in such a manner. What would you know of being highbrow anyway, what with the pastimes you partake in!”

“Miss (Y/N), I did not mean to upset you.” Sukuna spoke a little louder for the inquiring minds around you. “Please accept my apology.” And he bowed his head deeply in a show of submission.

“Do not mock me.” You hissed, crossing your arms and turning back to the lake. “I can’t believe I thought you could be a real gentleman.”

“Oh, but I can be.” Resuming his previous position, Sukuna squared his shoulders.

“Only when others are watching though, right?” You began walking again, letting Sukuna fall into step beside you. As a relative quiet fell over you two, you looked at everyone else walking about, seemingly so happy with their matches. A pang of jealousy hit you upon seeing a group of your girl friends out with their matches, laughing happily and getting to enjoy a true love match instead of whatever you were stuck in now.

There was little conversation between the two of you, but to the outside world it looked as if you were just taking a quiet stroll and letting the sounds of nature surround you. Anyone looking in would think that you’re content just being in each other's presence and don’t need words to communicate.

“Let’s stop at a cafe, I’m parched.” You announced, suddenly spotting the building across the street.

“Yes, let's.” Sukuna agreed immediately, following your lead. Opening the door for you and your family, Sukuna made a show of buying everyone something, even your father. With your family scattered about the shop, you and Sukuna took a seat by the window, a place where everyone could walk by and see you together.

“How do you like your parfait?” He asked, sipping on the plain coffee he got himself. Your mother insisted he get a croissant as well and he pulled a piece off and ate it.

“It’s delicious.” With fresh in season fruit throughout, it was a sweet treat you didn’t know you’d been craving. “Thank you.”

“Tell me what it is you like to do for fun.” Leaning back in his chair, Sukuna peered over his glass at you. You felt the urge to correct him on his posture but held back, knowing he would probably just laugh at you.

“I’ve recently taken up the harp and I quite enjoy it, it can be such a calming instrument. I also enjoy the pianoforte, though recently I’ve taken up reading a new book.”

“Reading is quite boring, is it not?” Sukuna smirked at you, enjoying how you fought to keep your expression neutral. “I can’t remember the last time I read.”

“I’m surprised you can read at all.” You rolled your eyes, finding small gratification in how he laughed.

“Me too!” Taking a hearty bite out of his pastry, Sukuna grinned at you, showing the sharp edge of his canines. “I think I’ll like having you as a wife.”

“You shouldn’t be so confident in my acceptance of your proposal, Your Highness.” With a warning tilt to your voice, you took a sip of tea. “I can very well say no to your whole courtship right now and be done with it.”

“But you and I both know you won’t. You wouldn't want to risk the ire of the Queen or your family. And neither would I, Miss (Y/N). I’m tired of being hounded to find a wife and you are the easiest decision ever made for me.”

“You could at least pretend you’re interested in me.” He had a point, you knew little people that went against what the Queen wanted and weren’t shunned for it. There were a great deal of pros outweighing the cons in marrying Sukuna from an economical point of view, but could you find it in you to put your heart aside?

“Trust me, I am plenty interested in you.” His gaze fell downwards and your face immediately started to burn.

“Don’t make me throw my tea on you.” You glared sharply at Sukuna, your tone daring him to continue and for his sake he didn’t and his eyes returned to yours.

“My apologies, Miss. Just admiring a beauty before me.” That statement made a passing few girls giggle and swoon to themselves and you could hardly hold back another eye roll.

Your outing was done shortly after your trip to the cafe with your youngest siblings complaining they were tired. The Prince escorted you home, bowing to you once more and waiting until you were inside before turning and leaving.

“Tell me what that outburst was at the park.” Your mother descended on you the second she got, following you up the stairs to your bedroom.

“The Prince isn’t as fine and dandy as you think he is, he called the ton a bunch of idiots.” You didn’t bother keeping your voice down as you walked, just the thought of what he’d said upset you all over again.

“Why, he is a Prince! Of course we will be simple to him, he is used to so much more!” She argued, throwing her arms up in exasperation. “He meant no harm, I’m sure.”

“Mother.” Turning to face her before opening your door, you sighed upon making eye contact. “I wish I could tell you even half of the things I learned about him…the Prince is not the man you think he is.” You repeated your previous statement; your lip caught between your teeth as you debated telling her more. “I don’t know if I can marry him.” The words made your mother gasp in horror and push a hand over your mouth.

“(Y/N), please tell me you don’t mean it. Please tell me you are just playing a sick joke.” She couldn’t bear to hear you say otherwise. You stared at each other, both of you pleading for different things. The heartbreak in her eyes was evident and she took a step back and composed herself. “V-very well, if that is how you feel I will not force you.”

“Mother…” Your voice trailed off at how downtrodden she looked, it nearly brought you to tears.

“No, please do not say any more. I-I need time to come to terms with this.” Smoothing down her dress, she looked over her shoulder to see if anyone was eavesdropping. The silence allowed for the noises of others in the house to be heard; two brothers fighting over chess, a sister playing the piano. “I will be in the sun room should you need me.”

She left without consequence, calling for a maid to bring her some lavender tea. Finally entering your room, your body pushed the door closed and you sank onto the floor, letting your head fall into your hands. This wasn’t what you wanted to happen in the slightest and now just the prospect of rejecting his proposal was putting immense guilt onto you. Seeing your mother so hurt, imagining the looks on your siblings faces and what your father could possibly say were all too much for you.

May 18

I fear I have made a grave error. It wasn’t my intention to hurt my mother but just the idea of me not marrying a prince was enough to make her beside herself with grief, she was hardly able to look at me during dinner. And I know she’s told father because he was the same way!

Am I really taking away my family’s happiness this much? Am I being selfish by refusing? I think I’m learning now that a marriage, especially this one, is not just between two people. There’s so many others that it affects!

I think I’ll reconsider my rejection - after all, not many can say they were named the diamond and married a crown prince their first season out. I know Sukuna will give me my space if I request and not question me on things…is this potential life worth giving up my hopes of love?

I truly hope it is.

At breakfast the next morning you informed your parents of the change of heart and the sullen mood that was looming over them was washed away in an instance.

“I knew you would come to your senses, girl.” Patting you gently on the shoulder, your father smiled big. “It’s easy to get swept up in nerves during this whole thing but I’m glad you’ve thought about how this marriage will be good for you - for all of us.”

Your siblings were thankfully none the wiser to what had transpired and they begged to be informed. Ignoring them, your mother reached for your hand across the table and squeezed it.

“We must go to the modiste later.”

“What for?” You sent her a curious look, you’d just been there the other day for a fitting!

“For your wedding dress.”

#jujutsu kaisen #sukuna x reader #bridgerton au #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen scenarios

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theemporium · 3 months ago

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for the 10K celebration I would LOVE to see you use the oscar x mermaid!reader moodboard you've posted because I think that's such a fun concept. maybe number 37 "You should play with my hair some more." from the fluff list?

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

37. “You should play with my hair some more.”

the mermaid fic // the mermaid moodboard

“You know, your tail is surprisingly comfy.”

You glanced down at the boy who was currently half-sprawled on the rock with his head resting on your tail. It wasn’t often the two of you got to swim together but you both had the day off and you knew the little island nearby had very, very few visitors from the mainland.

It was the perfect spot for days like this, where you and Oscar just wanted to spend time together—whether it was swimming in the water, sunbathing on a rock or having a small picnic on the beach. It was your island to do as you please, to live without the fear of someone spotting you.

“Did you expect it to be rock hard or something?” You teased, enjoying the relaxed expression on your boyfriend’s face. It wasn’t often he looked so carefree, so unbothered by the rest of the world around him. It was hard these days with work getting more and more hectic.

“No but,” Oscar lifted his hands in some incoherent gesture. “Just wasn’t expecting it.”

“Idiot,” you said in a fond voice, your hand reaching down to run your fingers through his hair. It was still a little damp, though mostly dried from laying out in the sun and starting to curl a little. “Another perk to having a girlfriend who’s a mermaid, huh?”

His lips twitched. “That and the constant free icy poles.”

You laughed, and the sound made Oscar smile wider.

“I packed some juice in the boat,” you said to him, grinning a little when he hummed under your light head scratches. “We should probably add blackcurrant juice to the shopping list when we are back.”

“Noted,” Oscar mumbled but he sounded half-asleep.

You had honestly thought he had fallen fast asleep by the time you moved your hand, reaching for your bag to double check there were no messages from Logan who had offered to take Buddy for the day. But the second your hand left his head, the boy was letting out a whine. You had half the mind to point out he sounded like a child.

“You should play with my hair some more,” Oscar murmured, a crease forming between his brows. “You love it.”

“I love it?” You repeated, letting out a small laugh.

Oscar nodded. “Mhm, you told me yourself.”

“Are you gaslighting me into giving you more head scratches?”

“Is it working?”

“You’re worse than Buddy,” you scoffed but your fingers returned to his hair, watching the crease between his brows disappear—even when you playfully tugged on his hair.

“He gets too many anyways,” Oscar said with a shrug. “He was getting too spoiled anyways.”

#cece's cocktail celebration #oscar piastri #formula one #f1 #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri fic #oscar piastri one shot #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 one shot

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st-eve-barnes · 11 months ago

Text

Leverage (Michael Gavey x fem Reader)

Chapter 3

Summary: When your ex threatens to release some very personal videos you are left with no choice but to do what he asks: seduce the biggest nerd on campus, Michael Gavey. Will you rock his world or will he fundamentally change yours?

This chapter: You try to bring Michael out of his shell but he's not making it easy on you. After a few confessions at the pub things get heated. First kisses and first oral (male receiving). Touch starved sub Michael.

Word count: +4200

Warning for the entire fic: 18+ for explicit content and language. Kissing, oral sex (male receiving), dry humping, hand job, fingering, p in v sex. First kiss and loss of virginity. Experienced reader. Enemies to lovers vibes.

Fluff, smut and of course angst (my favorite combination! lol) I haven't watched Saltburn yet so all characters in this fic except for Michael are my own.

Read the first chapters Here

***

All my fics are also on AO3

***

The pub felt overcrowded, too warm and too loud and the majority of visitors was drunk or halfway there. This right here was exactly why you had stopped going out every week. You’d only been here fifteen minutes and you already missed the comfort and silence of your room.

It was hard to imagine these people in front of you were among the best and smartest students in the world and were supposed to be the future of the country. It was clear you were all doomed.

You took another sip from your Bacardi Breezer and scanned the room for Michael but there was no sign of him yet. When someone placed a soft hand on your shoulder you turned around with a hopeful smile but it faded as soon as you saw who the hand belonged to.

“Oh, it’s you,” you sighed.

Ben leaned in much too close for your liking to be able to talk to you over the music,”How’s it going?”

“It was going great until just now,” you replied, trying to ignore him and praying for Michael to arrive any minute now.

“Let me rephrase that,” he smirked,”How are things going with you and Michael?”

“It’s going, don’t worry about it.”

“You sure?”

“Yes,” you nodded, looking into his eyes,”I had to improvise a little but I’ll make it work, don’t worry.”

“It better, you know what’s at stake.”

“Yes, I fucking know, okay,” you snapped, shooting daggers at him,”You fucking pathetic asshole.”

Ben just laughed and you were ten seconds away from slapping him in the face when you noticed Michael stepping through the door.

He looked like a fish out of water, hands shoved into his pockets, eyes cast down to the floor as he tried to make his way through the crowd and tried to avoid bumping into people. When he noticed you his lips curled into a small smile and he gave you a little awkward wave. You couldn’t help but smile back and you rushed over to him, and as far away from Ben as you could.

“Hey,” Michael nodded, avoiding your eyes and biting his lip anxiously. You had never seen him this nervous before. He looked like he was about to bolt any minute now and you couldn’t exactly blame him.

“Hey,” you give him an encouraging smile,”Can you at least try and look like you want to be here?”

“Sorry,” he sighed,”It’s just…yeah, sorry.”

“It’s okay, I know this probably isn’t your thing. But thank you for doing this, I really appreciate it.”

“Not doing it for you,” he said quickly,”Just don’t want him to get what he wants.”

“Well, regardless, thank you for coming tonight,” you gave him a grateful smile and leaned in to wrap your arm around his shoulder for a swift hug. Michael froze when you pressed your body against his.

”I should get you a drink, help you relax a little bit,” you said after you leaned back.

“I don’t drink,” he stopped you.

“Oh, okay well, then this is going to be harder than I thought.”

“I’m just…not used to this,” he tried to explain.

“Define this.”

“All of it,” he gestured.

“Okay,” you sighed.

He gave you a sad smile and you actually felt had for him. You realized it must have cost him a lot to step out of his comfort zone tonight, yet he was here, just like he had promised you, to help you deal with Ben. Whatever his motivations were, he was proving that you could count on him.

“Okay,” you gave him another smile,”Why don’t we find a quiet spot to sit somewhere? Get away from the crowd for a bit?”

Michael nodded in relief and followed you to the bar until you found a spot away from all the noise but still close enough for Ben to see you both.

You ordered drinks and tried your best to bring Michael out of his shell, which proved harder than you thought.

“So what do you do for fun then?” you asked.

“Fun?” he shook his head with a little smile,”Fun is nothing but a distraction, I mean look at them…I can practically hear their brain cells deteriorating, one drink at a time.”

You couldn’t help but laugh,”Okay, but you don’t need to be drunk to have fun.”

“I’m here to graduate and secure the best future I can for myself, that’s the only thing that matters,” he continued to ignore your question.

“Right,” you sighed.

“We don’t all have mummy and daddy’s money to fall back on,” he explained, letting his eyes meet yours,”As you know, I think.”

You nodded,”Yeah, unfortunately I do. It’s just me and my mum, we’re not bad off but…ever since dad died it hasn’t been that easy, money wise.”

“I’m sorry, that must have been a hard loss to deal with,” he spoke softly, his sudden empathy taking you by surprise.

You shrugged,”Thanks. It happened years ago, it’s fine, I’m used to it by now.”

Just as you were starting to give up your attempts at keeping the conversation light Michael turned the question back around. “So, what do you do for fun then, Y/N?” he asked.

He seemed relieved when you responded with a smile.“Me? I don’t know, I hang out with friends, we go see movies or get something to eat mostly. Sometimes we go out and I get a little drunk. But not too often, wouldn’t want to kill those precious brain cells.”

Michael laughed at that and then shook his head,”Very funny.”

“I know,” you teased, making him smile some more and you felt proud at finally making him feel a little more relaxed.

“What else?” he asked, now actively doing his best to keep the conversation going.

“Sometimes I take a guy back up to my room,” you blurted out, causing Michael to blush.

“Of course you do,” he nodded.

You took another sip from your drink while you kept your eyes on him,”You ever taken a girl up to your room, Gavey?”

He shook his head with a grin,“Is that your clever way of asking me if I am a virgin?”

“Are you?”

He blushed again and avoided looking at you.

“You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to,” you quickly added, realizing you were probably overstepping but he just nodded his head.

”It’s okay,” he shrugged,”I mean…it’s not like it’s a secret. I’m a virgin, there. Happy now?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think, as long as you’re happy with that choice. I mean, several of my girl friends are virgins, it’s nothing to be ashamed of and it’s not as uncommon as you’d think.”

“Really?” he asked, seemingly comforted by your words.

“It’s not that big of a deal anyway,” you continued,”Having sex with someone isn’t going to fundamentally change you, it’s just sex.”

“Trust me, for someone who hasn’t had it…it’s not just sex.”

You nodded with a soft smile,”Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“And…don’t you think that it should fundamentally change you?” he then added,”Being with the right person, I mean…otherwise what’s the point?”

“The point is to cum, Michael,” you answered bluntly and he laughed at your words, almost choking on his drink.

”Sex is fun, anything else is just what books and movies would like you to believe,” you added,”It’s not like that in real life.”

“You don’t believe in true love then?”

“True love?” you shook your head and laughed,”Oh please, you do? You actually want to wait for the right person to come along before you have sex with someone? What if she, or he, never comes along?”

Michael just shook his head,”First of all, it’s she. And second of all…I guess I’m better off alone than with the wrong person, don’t you think?”

You rolled your eyes,”You’re so naive.”

“And you’re so bitter,” he answered quickly.

“Yeah, well, having Ben as an ex will do that to you.”

“Maybe you should think twice before fucking someone then,” he blurted out.

You looked at him,”Okay, that’s kind of rude.”

“What? Am I wrong?” he continued,”How well did you even know him before you slept with him? And how many other guys like him were there?”

“That’s…none of your fucking business.”

��What? I showed you mine but you’re not going to show me yours? That means the answer is plenty, I guess,” he answered his own question and you wanted to punch him. Who did this guy think he is?

”You shouldn’t be so willing to spend time with assholes,” Michael then added.

“You know what, you’re absolutely right, Gavey,” you gave him an angry look and moved away from him and out of your seat.

“Shit,” Michael sighed,”Wait…fuck, I’m sorry.”

He rushed after you and reached for your hand, pulling you back to him,”Wait, please, don’t go, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I just…I don’t know how to talk to girls.”

“You can’t keep using that as an excuse to be a dick.”

“I know,” he sighed,”I know. I'm sorry.”

He was still holding your hand in his and much to your surprise it didn’t feel unpleasant, quite the contrary. You squeezed his hand and he let go instantly, as if he just realized he was still touching you.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

“It’s…fine.” You weren’t sure if he was still apologizing for his words or because he grabbed you but you realized it didn’t matter. Your urge to flee was gone now.

“Sit back down with me?” he asked,”Please?”

You nodded and followed him and you both sat down again, in silence.

“I’ve never even kissed anyone,” Michael blurted out after a while.

“You haven’t?” you asked, genuinely surprised,”Why not?”

He blushed but smiled, clearly embarrassed by his own confession,”Girls just don’t look at me and see something they want, I guess.”

“Maybe you should try being a little nicer then,” you pointed out.

He shook his head,”I used to be…nicer, it didn’t matter. They take one look at me and bail so…now I don’t even bother.”

“There’s nothing wrong with how you look,” you tried to reassure him but he gave you a knowing look.

“Come on now, I already called you a bad liar once, don’t make me say it again.”

You shook your head but smiled.”Okay, fine, so the clothes could use an upgrade and…maybe you’re not conventionally handsome,” you tried to explain and Michael just started laughing.

“That’s the most polite way I’ve ever been called ugly.”

“You’re not ugly!” you objected,”That’s my whole point, it’s like…oh, it’s like Adam Driver, you know that Star Wars guy?”

“You're really asking a nerd if he knows Star Wars?” he teased you.

“Okay, so Adam Driver isn’t conventionally attractive either but he’s got tons of fangirls everywhere who adore him.”

“Yeah, well, my fangirls seem to be absent, for now.”

You smiled and let your eyes meet his.”You have really pretty eyes,” you then confessed,”And you’re really tall and lean. Girls like that. And your hands are…really nice and…your lips look very soft.”

Michael was blushing hard now and he looked away from you but his lips curled up into a warm smile.”Thanks,” he whispered.

“My point is you’re not ugly, Michael,” you added,”And I’m sorry if people made you feel that way.”

He sighed with a smile,”Thank you. It’s just…I thought it would have happened by now, you know, that first kiss. It’s stupid and I don’t even care but…I just wish…”

“Do you want to kiss me?” you blurted out.

He shook his head with a shy smile,”No, I don’t want your pity kiss, it’s fine.”

“It wouldn’t be like that.”

“Oh, really? What would it be like then?”

“Well…we’re trying to convince Ben we’re fucking, right? If he sees us kiss that might make it more believable. So it’s not a pity kiss, you’d be helping me out with the plan. It’s a win-win.”

He stayed quiet.

“But it’s okay if you don’t want to,” you added,”If you want to wait for the right person, I get it, no pressure…”

“No, I don’t,” he interrupted you, quietly, as if he was surprised by his own words,”I mean I…want to…I want to kiss you.”

“You sure?” you checked.

He nodded eagerly, putting a smile on your face.

“I’m sure,” he confirmed,”I just…I don’t know…how to do it right.”

You turned to face him and allowed yourself to really look at him. His beautiful sincere eyes and that deep blush on his cheeks, the way his mouth twitched nervously as he tried to avoid your eyes but also couldn’t stop himself from wanting to look at you. You had never in your life met anyone like Michael, he was insufferable at times but he was also the purest soul you’d ever met.

And you wanted to kiss him with every fibre of your being.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him,”We’ll start slow. Look at me.”

His eyes met yours and you could tell he was struggling to keep direct eye contact, he was so flushed already and you hadn’t even touched him yet.

“Keep looking at me,” you asked firm but gentle.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, breaking eye contact.

“That’s alright,” you gave him an encouraging smile,”Maybe we should…take these off.”

Your hands reached for his glasses and you carefully took them off and placed them on the table next to you.

“Is that better?” you asked.

“You’re all blurry now.”

You smiled,“Well, I’ll just have to get a little closer then.”

You inched closer to him on the couch and Michael turned so you were both facing each other. You were so close to him now you could feel his warm breath on your lips.

“This better?” you asked softly,”Can you see me now?”

Michael nodded nervously, his blue eyes locked with yours.”I see you,” he whispered.

“Good,” you smiled and then you both just stared at each other, letting him get used to being this close to you.

After a little while you carefully moved your hand up to gently trace your fingers over his cheek. His breath hitched at the contact.

“It’s alright,” you whispered and gently cupped his cheek in your hand,”Don’t be nervous, it’s alright.”

Michael’s eyes closed for a moment as he leaned into your palm. You ignored the way your heart melted at the gesture. Then you leaned in closer, his nose gently bumping against yours before you leaned in further and kissed him softly. It was just a peck of your lips against his but it was enough to set off a very unexpected spark in you.

You looked at each other again. Michael’s gaze was hungry but he didn’t move, patiently waiting for you to make the next move and guide him through it.

“Just follow my lead, okay?” you whispered.

“Hmm,” he nodded.

You kissed him again, just as soft as the first one but this time you opened your mouth slightly to move your lips against his and he reciprocated immediately.

His lips were incredibly soft, as you has expected, and he tasted of mint and the sweet fruity soda he’d been drinking and he kissed you as if you were the best thing he'd ever tasted. When you carefully teased his bottom lip with your tongue he was quick to do the same, slipping his tongue into your mouth and deepening the kiss.

He didn’t need much more guidance after that. His technique might be clumsy and he was a little over eager but he was also a goddamn natural. You felt dizzy from how good it felt to have his lips on yours and after a few minutes you were panting into his mouth and had to stop yourself from crawling into his lap.

What was happening?

You were clinging to his neck with both hands, needing to touch him but he still hadn’t touched you back. His hands were nervously digging into the fabric of the couch as he whimpered into the kiss.

“Put your hands on me,” you breathed,”Please, Michael.”

He whimpered again at the sound of his name from your lips and then his hands were on your waist, pulling you closer to him as he teased your tongue with his and kissed you even deeper.

You were drowning in him. All the other guys you had kissed before were nothing but a distant memory and you’d give them all up in a heartbeat if you could just remember this one kiss.

Who knew nerds could kiss like that?

You weren’t sure how much time had passed but after a while you leaned back to get some air, your lips red and swollen and still aching for more of him.

Michael’s entire face was flushed a deep red and he was breathing so hard it was making you lose focus.

“Fuck,” he breathed,”Was that…was that okay?”

You couldn’t help but laugh and you pressed your forehead against his and nodded while biting your lip.

When Michael noticed he leaned in and bit your lip as well, then pulled you in for another long, slow kiss.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered afterwards,”God…what have you done to me?…I don’t want to stop…I just…please can we keep kissing?”

You innocently kissed his cheek and then moved your lips down, kissing and licking the curve of his neck and his collar bone until Michael whimpered into your ear. His hands firmly clinging to your back.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Michael was cursing under his breath.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m..I’m hard,” he confessed with another whimper,”Fuck, I’m so fucking hard.”

You just smiled at him,”Yeah, a few good kisses will do that to you.”

You continued kissing his neck, relishing in the soft little moans spilling from his lips and then you noticed how he was bucking his hips up, seeking for contact that wasn’t there, desperate for some friction or relief.

You moved one hand over his hip and then down to his inner thigh, the huge bulge in his pants was growing right before your eyes and it made you absolutely feral. You hadn’t planned for this at all, you’d just wanted to kiss him and maybe tease him a little bit. But having him squirming under your hands now and moaning so desperately into your ear you realized you wanted to give him so much more.

“You want me to take care of it?” you whispered into his ear, caressing his erection slowly. Michael just moaned and buried his face against your neck while he nodded his head.

“I’m going to assume you’ve never had a blow job before,” you whispered to him,”Would you like one?”

He looked up into your eyes, shock all over his face as he breathed,”I…no, I haven’t…obviously I…fuck…Are you for real?You would…you would do that? With me?”

“Do you want me to?” you asked softly.

“Yes,” he breathed,”God, fuck yes…yes. Please. Please.”

You pulled out of his arms, making him whine in frustration at the loss of contact but it was forgotten quickly when you took his hand and dragged him with you towards the bathrooms.

Ben smirked at you both as you passed by him but neither you or Michael noticed.

You pushed Michael inside one of the stalls and locked the door behind you.

He was quick to grab you by your hips and push you up against the door while he kissed you again. You reciprocated eagerly, letting your hands caress all over his messy hair, down to his chest and then his stomach.

When you started fumbling with his belt Michael started cursing again, trying his hardest to keep it together. His hands moved over your ass and tried to push up your dress but you stopped him.

“What?” he asked, disappointment all over his pretty face.

“This is about you tonight, not me.”

“No, I wanna touch you, please, let me touch you,” he whined.

“Not tonight,” you pulled his pants down, freeing his erection and it made the both of you gasp out loud, for very different reasons. He was big, exceptionally big, and really beautiful, and so fucking hard. You knew he must have been desperate for that sweet release.

You bit your lip and leaned in to whisper into his ear,”I want to put my mouth on you, Michael, is that okay?”

He nodded quickly, his breathing picking up again. ”Yes, yes,” he whimpered,”Oh god, please…please. It’s so painfully hard, just…just touch it please.”

No guy had ever begged so beautifully before and it had you down on your knees so easily, your eyes looking up at him while you carefully placed your hand over his length and started jerking him, slowly. He sighed in relief at your touch, eyes closing in a blissful moan.

You couldn’t help but smile up at him.”You’d better not cum on me within two seconds, Gavey,” you warned him with a teasing grin.

Michael laughed in between heavy breaths,”Can’t make any promises.”

And then your mouth was on him and all he was left with were heavy moans and whimpers as he fought very hard not to burst on the spot.

His hands were nervously balled into fists until you grabbed them and guided them into your hair, giving him something to hold onto. He caressed your scalp so gently it was pulling at your heart strings and distracted you from what you were doing for a moment.

You took him deeper into your mouth, all the while jerking the rest of him in your hand. Michael’s fingers tightened into your hair while his hips bucked forward desperately. The moans spilling from his lips were enough to make your cunt throb for him but you had meant what you said. Tonight wasn’t about you. You just wanted to make him feel good and you knew he wasn’t going to last long anyway.

When you started moaning around his cock he was done for and he finally gave in, holding the back of your head while he fucked up into your mouth with hard short thrusts, making tears spill from your eyes and the next thing you knew he was spilling into your mouth with a muffled cry.

He wanted to pull out but you didn’t let him, keen to swallow every last hot drop and make him cry even more.

“Oh god, oh holy shit, that was…fuck, that was so good,” he was babbling again and trying to catch his breath, coming down from his high and you smirked while you wiped your mouth.

He was quick to pull you back up into his arms and into a deep, hungry kiss.

“Fuck,” he breathed, licking into your mouth,”I can…I can taste myself on your tongue…that’s so fucking hot.”

When he cupped your face he could feel the tears on your cheek and he pulled back, looking at you while he gently wiped them away.

“Made you cry,” he whispered and then he leaned in to place a few soft kisses on your cheeks, taking his time to gently kiss your tears away,”Sorry…I’m sorry.”

His soft and sweet caresses almost made you want to cry for real.

You grabbed his wrists and leaned back,”It’s okay, they’re not real tears, having a dick shoved down your throat will do that to you.”

“Oh. I didn’t…hurt you, did I?”

You smiled softly and shook your head,”No, you didn’t hurt me, Michael, you’re good.”

You wanted to step back but he was quick to place his hands on your hips and keep you in place. His eyes were staring at you, satisfied and tired but also still hungry and you smiled softly and shook your head.

“No, not tonight,” you whispered.

“Come on, why not? Aren’t you horny as fuck right now? Don’t you want me to…touch you?” he leaned in to place a soft lingering kiss on your lips,”Don’t you want me to fuck you?”

You almost gave in right then but you pulled away and shook your head.”Shouldn’t your actual first time be in a soft, comfortable bed with candles and sweet music?” And someone you actually love?

He smirked,”You just sucked me off in a dirty bathroom stall and it was the best experience of my life, you think I care about music and candles?”

You couldn’t help but laugh.”I think you’ve had enough firsts for one night.”

You pushed him back and he didn’t object this time even though his face was clouded in obvious disappointment.

“Next time then?” he asked hopeful and relief flooded his features when you smiled and nodded.

How could you refuse him anything when he looked at you like that?

You leaned in to place a soft lingering kiss on his lips, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach,“Yeah, maybe next time."

#michael gavey x reader #michael gavey smut #michael gavey x you #michael gavey #ewan mitchell fanfic #michael gavey x fem reader

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angelicsoka · 10 months ago

Text

YOU’RE SOMEBODY ELSE, t. zegras & h. brothers

part two <3

word count | 1.4k

pairings | trevor zegras x fem!hughes!reader, platonic!luke hughes x sister!reader, platonic!quinn hughes x sister!reader, platonic!jack hughes x sister!reader,

summary | the youngest hughes sibling is slowly becoming someone she can’t recognize

warnings | mentions of self-harm, suicidal ideation, and depression. ANGST. not proofread. this is not a very happy fic, based on the song you’re somebody else by flora cash. no use of "y/n". lowercase intended. uses of the nicknames for reader include: miss sunshine, bub, & kid

a/n | i’m surprised with how my other post turned out, i definitely was not expecting that lol. here's another sad fic, based on another sad song. i wrote this at 1 am when i couldn’t sleep, so i apologize if this sucks.

you held the balance of the time

that only blindly i could read you

but i could read you

it's like you told me

go forward slowly

it's not a race to the end

she was their sunshine. the youngest hughes sibling and luke’s twin sister was an open book. she wore her heart on her sleeve, and was the sweetest soul around. she had her brothers wrapped around her finger, and it didn’t take long for trevor zegras to fall for her enchanting smile. he made her happy, something only her family had ever truly achieved. quinn remembered the moment she ran into his room, threw herself on his bed as she squealed: “quinny, i think i’m in love!”

quinn held a soft smile on his face as she went on and on about the date trevor had taken her on. she had trusted him to hold this secret until the couple was ready to tell the two other hughes brothers, who would more than likely overreact. “well, bub, i’m happy for you, but if he hurts you, you tell me and i’ll break his face.” quinn promised, laughing when she hit his shoulder in retaliation.

“please, as if!” she laughed, getting up to hug quinn. “thanks, quinny. i love you.”

“i love you too, kid.” quinn watched as she practically bounced out of his room. she was so clearly in love, blinded by it even. maybe that's where everything went wrong. maybe they moved too fast, maybe she needed to learn to truly love herself before she could truly love him.

you were the better part

of every bit of beating heart that i had

whatever i had

i finally sat alone

pitch black flesh and bone

couldn't believe that you were gone

trevor zegras loved her, he loved her more than he thought he would ever be able to love someone. and it wasn’t that she didn't love him, it was that she didn't love herself. she made trevor a better person, made him want to do right by others. if she had taken the time to take care of herself like she had taken care of everyone else, maybe they could’ve made it. maybe, he had loved her too much. maybe, they were doomed from the start.

now, trevor was alone, unsure of what to do. she had left him, claiming that she wasn’t ready. that she loved him, but she could never love him like how he loved her. that she didn’t know how to love herself, so how could she love him? still, trevor blamed himself. he was angry that he couldn’t have shown her how much good she brought to this cruel world. he spent too many nights stuck in thought about her, about how things could’ve been different.

she spent too many nights stuck in thought about how the world would be better without her. about how things would be better for everyone if she was gone.

well, you look like yourself

but you're somebody else

only it ain't on the surface

well, you talk like yourself

no, i hear someone else though

now you're making me nervous

change is inevitable. it is bound to happen, yet the youngest hughes sibling feared change. she felt herself becoming a person she could no longer recognize, it was like her body was a house that had been intruded by unwelcome visitors. she looked the same, yet she had changed so much.

she never told her brothers the real reason she had broken up with trevor, instead she simply told them they had grown apart. however, one look at trevor zegras told them it was more than just that. it was after that they began to notice the subtle changes in her: the joyous laughs that use to fill the lake house were much more quiet and less frequent, and her smile never quite met her eyes.

it was after luke caught a glimpse of the scars that littered his twin’s thighs and stomach that they knew it was serious. luke tried to talk to her, to figure out what was going on but she would find anyway to divert the conversation, to get away from the inevitable change.

luke led his twin into the basement where quinn and jack were waiting. he had promised a movie night, just him and his sister and god, did he feel guilty about what he was about to do. he quickly shut the door, blocking her only way out. the look on her face made him want to break down. the once bright, bubbly girl looked nervous and so very tired. tired like she knew she couldn’t keep going like this without telling someone.

she took one look at her older brothers before breaking down in sobs. luke was quick to embrace her, jack and quinn on their feet in an instant. the words tumbled out, the need to tell someone being so unbearably overwhelming.

“i can’t do it anymore. i can’t keep living like this. i can’t look in a fucking mirror because i hate myself! i hate how i look, the way i talk and laugh! that’s why i do this to myself because i fucking deserve it!” she rolled up her sleeve, revealing the healing scars.

“there’s this fucking war going on in my head and i’m losing. i can’t keep going, i don’t wanna keep going! i wish that i could go back to when i was a kid, to when i wasn’t so fucked in the head.” the words just kept coming, as well as the tears. she couldn’t see it, but her brothers were in shambles at this revelation. the fact that their sister hated herself so much she would physically hurt herself, that she couldn’t see how much she meant to them. “maybe i’m just better off dead.”

“don’t say that, don’t you ever fucking say that or even think that.” luke pulled back, looking to his sister.

“bub, why didn’t you tell us you felt this way?” quinn questioned, watching as she took the tissue jack offered her. she sat on the couch, pulling her knees to her chest. jack sat beside her, looking at her with teary eyes. luke was on her other side, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. quinn sat in front of her, a broken look on his face; he was the oldest of them all, he was supposed to protect them. why couldn’t he have protected her from this?

“i didn’t want to be a burden.” she sniffled, avoiding eye contact. jack scoffed beside her, pulling her gaze to him.

“you? a burden? miss sunshine, you could never be a burden. your feelings are not a burden.” she felt relieved, glad that she would not have to carry this weight alone. tears began to cascade down her face as she allowed jack to hug her. she cried as her twin and oldest brother joined.

“you are so loved, miss sunshine. so fucking loved.” quinn kissed her forehead, a smile creeping on to her face.

“thank you.” she rasped out, drying her eyes. she fell silent for a moment, deep in thought. “i was promised a movie night…” she trailed off, a smile adorning her face. this time it reached her eyes. “but first, i have someone i need to talk to.”

she stood up, walking to the basement bathroom. she closed the door behind her, taking a seat on the lid of the toilet. she dialed a number on her phone, hesitating slightly before she hit the call button. it rang a couple times before he picked up. “hey, z, you busy?”

“are you alright?”

“yeah, yeah, i’m okay. just really needed to hear your voice.” she smiled, even though he couldn’t see it.

“are you sure you’re okay?” he questioned, concern clear in his voice.

“yeah, i'll explain everything when you get here next week, i just needed to hear your voice.” she heard distant voices on his end, followed by rustling as he pulled the phone away from his ear.

“i’m sorry, but i gotta go.” he sounded upset, still clearly very concerned about her.

“that's okay, z. uh, before you go, i’m sorry... about everything.”

“its okay, it'll all be okay.” more distant voices could be heard, “i gotta go, i love you.” he ended the call, probably not realizing what he had said. it was in that moment, she knew everything would be alright.

i saw the part of you

that only when you're older,

you will see too

#angelicsoka #trevor zegras #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras imagine #jack hughes #luke hughes #quinn hughes #hughes brothers x sister reader #jack hughes imagine #luke hughes imagine #quinn hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #luke hughes x reader #quinn hughes x reader

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baeshijima · 1 year ago

Text

— of lattes and dozing generals

in which you're just a cafe employee, and he is the luofu's revered general — the one who can never seem to stray too far from you, no matter how much time passes.

CONTAINS : gn!reader, 10.4k wc, fluff, some angst, hurt/comfort, coffee shop!au(-but-not-really-but-yeah-but-also-not), set slightly before current timeline, (old) friends to lovers, (attempts at) humour, pining pining bc they are old..., mentions of death (reader killed a mara-struck for the first time), hints of blade x reader if you squint

A/N : after a month the fic is done... i am so unwell for this man good lord ಥ_ಥ

General Jing Yuan is a cafe addict. That much is common knowledge among the citizens of the Luofu. Spanning from those who have been around for as long as he — and even older — to children and visitors alike, there’s not one person who hasn’t heard of this rumour.

When asked by a few brave (or nosy, depending on how you look at it) souls, the corners of his lips merely quirk up in a display of fond affection as he vocalises with equal sentiment, “They have my favourite there. How can I possibly resist the temptation?”

…Yeah. Whatever that meant.

Unsurprisingly, word spreads fast. News of the Cloud Knight’s general making regular trips to a meagre cafe? Just what in the world did they have to cause the great, beloved General Jing Yuan to return time and time again?

In the end, no one could actually figure out what his favourite item on the menu was. Every time he went in, it would always result in him leaving with something new! The only consistent occurrence, however, was the same employee taking his order with an expression akin to that of exasperation.

Meanwhile, to the regulars who have grown used to his profound presence within the humble cafe, they know better. This so-called ‘favourite menu item’ rumour that’s been going around? Preposterous! Having bore witness to the general breeze through the entrance in a bee-line to wherever it is you may be currently stationed (typically behind the counter) on many occasions, they’re confident the last thing in Jing Yuan’s mind when visiting is the menu.

After all, for what reason would he have to visit other than to converse with and see his favourite employee?

As a Xianzhou Native, you’ve experienced many oddities and menial routines throughout your extensive life. From being a medic-slash-supporter during countless wars and purges to your current job in a humble cafe, your options are beginning to run thin. After all, life is about exploring the new and revisiting the old (in your philosophy, at least), and there’s plenty of time to do so after having lived as long as you have.

Granted, outside of your role in purging the Denizens of Abundance, it’s safe to say your current occupation in the cafe has been your longest one yet! Well, you suppose the citizens of the Luofu — and, by extension, the Xianzhou Alliance — were never really ones for drastic change. At least the outworlders who come to visit bring some semblance of entertainment in your mundane life.

Yes. Your simple, mundane life you have come to appreciate.

“I see you’re busy as ever,” comments a baritone voice — languid in intonation yet you’re no stranger to the power which belies it. Against your better judgement, your eyes lift from the marbled counter to meet the smiling face of the bane of your existence, and the general whom the masses respect and fawn over. “Mind taking another customer?”

Ah. Right. This guy.

Out of everything that has been thrown at you, you’re almost certain this man takes the cake for the strangest experience in your life. And the longest, you suppose.

Although, it seems the same can’t be said for your coworkers, as you practically hear their beams of excitement before they can vocalise it.

“Welcome back, General Jing Yuan!”

You sigh at the enthused greeting from one of your coworkers, the beginnings of a headache teetering along the edges of your conscience.

Ignoring the commotion, you resume your work. What was it you were making again…? Oh, right. One milk tea and a—

“If you keep frowning like that, you’ll drive away customers.”

“Will it drive you away?” you retort, focusing on the last part of the order. After securing the small fruit tart from behind the display case, you pass the milk tea and pastry to a coworker so they can take it to the customer.

“Sorry to disappoint,” he drawls, impish smile magnified by the glimmer in his eyes when you turn to make contact, “but it’ll take much more than that to drive me away.”

You stare at him for a few seconds, unsure of what it is exactly he wants from you this time. Your eyes begin to narrow. “Are you saying a smile will drive you away?”

He feigns an exaggerated expression of hurt. “Drive me away? Oh, how your accusations wound me!” A chuckle bubbles from his throat when you glare at him for his theatrics, lifting his hands up in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I concede. Would you believe me if I said I’m worried your attention will be stolen away from me if you smile?”

“Not at all.”

“I’m merely looking out for you, [Name],” he says with a sigh, a shake of his head and a light tutting sound. “While I am immune to your smile, the customers are not. I don’t wish for you to be bored due to the lack of customers.”

Seriously, you can’t believe this guy sometimes. If he wants a challenge, then you accept.

And so you close your eyes and present your best century-perfected customer smile (which, to your credit, has been the number one selling point for many of the regulars and returning customers), deciding to play along with his whims. “Welcome back, General Jing Yuan. Would you like your usual today?”

(Granted, he likes to vary his order every now and then but the caramel latte seems to be his most consistent choice as of late. Pretty good taste, if you do say so yourself.)

“…”

…Why is it so quiet all of a sudden? Did everyone just unanimously decide to up and leave?? Is there a minute of silence you’re unaware of???

A meek cough disrupts your thoughts. Relieved at the new sound, you open your eyes only to be stumped by the general in front of you. His prior relaxed posture is now rigid, eyes focusing everywhere but on you. Wait, upon closer inspection, is he… shaking?

“...Please excuse me.”

Huh?

You’re not given much time to process his words. With one swift turn he’s already stalking towards the door.

“Hey! What happened to not being driven away?!” He doesn’t turn back at your shout. No, it seems to only make him speed-walk faster. Barely a blink and he’s gone, the only indication of his presence being the echoing chimes of the bell.

He bigged himself up saying he wouldn’t be driven away but then he goes and leaves you in the dust the moment you smile.

What a hypocrite.

(Unbeknown to you, the regulars who happened to witness the spectacle could only chuckle in fond exasperation at their general’s splutter and flushed skin, the only time they can truly get a read on his thoughts, and your dumbfounded expression.)

“One milk tea, as always.”

“No need to sound so enthusiastic,” Tingyun laughs before thanking you. A satisfied hum leaves her lips when drinking the beverage, and that’s all the indication you need to know you have, once again, aced the recipe.

Well done, me! You deserve a pat on the back and a century-long holiday away from as many people as possible!

Graceful movements snap you out of your fantasies. You blink rapidly to process the flutter of a fan, a disarmingly sweet giggle and a cold, paper-like material pressed into your palm.

“Have fun with your dream man~”

“Wait what—”

And then she’s gone, leaving you to stare blankly at the place she was standing mere moments prior. You’re starting to see a pattern here with people abruptly leaving you in a fit of confusion.

Well, nothing you can do about it now, you suppose. So instead you move your focus to the small, thin object enclosed in your hand. Its now-exposed surface gleams under the cafe lights, the reflection obscuring the details. A picture? But what can you do with a—

Wait. Is that… Jing Yuan… winking at the camera…?

Sure enough, under the pressure of your scrutiny as you hold the picture in various angles and heights, the winking face of Jing Yuan stares back at you in mockery. Somehow, this photo feels slightly more personal than the usual ones Tingyun distributes to the masses. Actually, you’re not sure how she even manages to obtain these photos in the first place and, quite frankly, you think it's best you don’t know.

…The hell am I supposed to do with this?

Just as you were wondering what to do with the polaroid, a familiar voice comes from behind — almost as if the small, glossy image clutched between your fingers had the ability to summon him. “If you wanted my photo, all you had to do was ask.”

“Please don’t misunderstand, general,” you deadpan in response, your head swerving to meet his amused gaze before placing the photocard on the counter. “I was given this against my own will.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm,” he hums, a melodic sound which serves to speed up the palpitations of your heart. It comes to an abrupt slow, however, when you spot the corners of his lips lift into a smug curve, already dreading whatever it is that may leave his lips. “I wonder why I find that hard to believe.”

“That's not my problem.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

…

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” He laughs at your groan, eyes crinkling with joy at the dispense of your suffering. Yeah, why suffer when you can make drinks? Besides, you already know he’ll accept whatever it is you make, so there’s no reason to ask for his opinion!

He follows close behind when you venture behind the counter in search of some ingredients, uncaring for the stares he receives from the customers who aren’t regulars.

When you crouch, you shoot one last accusatory glare at the still-smiling general before disappearing to rifle through cabinets underneath. “For someone in a position such as yours, you sure do have a lot of spare time to be spending it on a humble cafe worker such as myself.”

You’re not sure if he responds, too focused on searching for what you need. After finding the ingredients, you rock back on your heels and stand, the top of your head brushing against something smooth. When you rise, you realise it was the back of Jing Yuan’s hand which you made contact with, as he grips the edge of the counter where your head most definitely would have hit if he hadn’t cushioned the impact.

He merely grins when your eyes travel up the length of his arm to meet his gaze. “Well, what can I say other than you are worth every second of my time.”

…

“Don’t look at me like that, [Name].”

“Like what?” You watch as his smile strains when you repeat his words from earlier, a victorious grin creeping its way onto your lips. “Alright, alright. I’ll make your drink now. It won’t take long.”

True to your words, it doesn’t take long. Within a matter of minutes you’ve prepared a caramel latte. (It was the only thing you could find ingredients for. Perhaps it’s time to go shopping again…)

After securing the lid on the takeaway cup, you hand it over to him. He reaches out, your fingers brushing slightly and—

The silence is unnervingly loud as you both stare blankly at the spilled drink rolling across the counter.

“...I’ll be charging extra for that latte today.”

“Aha…”

You’re no stranger to quiet days in the cafe, and neither are the staff and regulars. After a particular incident way back when, it’s safe to say the establishment has faced many peaceful shifts. Though that’s not to say there hasn’t been any disputes from customers, but they’re usually small, easy to resolve issues that only require a practised smile and a (sometimes threatening) deal before sending them on their merry way.

Today, however, doesn’t seem to be one of those easy days.

“Sir, I’ll have to ask you to leave,” your voice resounds in the quiet cafe, stern and unwavering. The man in question tears his attention away from his phone to glance over his shoulder, his once haughty expression now fallen into a scowl.

“And why’s that?” he asks after telling the other person on the line to wait for a moment. “I’m not being disruptive to anyone.” With the progressively hostile looks he’s been getting since earlier, you beg to differ. Well, even if he clearly is an outworlder unaware of the Xianzhou customs, that doesn’t justify his ignorance.

And you decide to tell him just that.

“Since you seem to be a visitor, let me give you a piece of advice: it would do you well to cease all mentions of seeking immortality when aboard any of the Xianzhou ships, lest you want to make an enemy of yourself to the locals.”

“Oh? And who are you to tell me that?”

Your eye twitches at his haughty tone. Within a second your signature customer smile is plastered onto your expression, an even tone conveying your next words, “A Xianzhou Native, of course.”

And the next thing you know there’s a seething customer causing a disruption in the middle of the cafe. Though not unexpected, you still held onto a fraying hope that the issue could be resolved somewhat peacefully.

How bothersome.

A light weight plops itself atop the line of your shoulder, shifting slightly with a soft brush against your jaw before coming to a still. With a blink, you and the man share a brief moment of confusion, and you find yourself more stupefied at the finch gazing up at you with a slight tilt of its head.

It looks familiar, but that isn’t much to go off of. Besides, the first person to come to mind already said he would be busy this week, so you highly doubt he’s managed to appear at just the right time like always… right? Right—

“What seems to be the issue here?”

Your answer comes in the form of a tender warmth encasing your back, a beguiling voice resounding from behind, and a familiar scent relaxing your tensed muscles. It doesn’t take a genius to recognise who’s standing behind you, but perhaps it’s because you’re so used to his presence that you can identify him the moment he steps into a room.

“General…” you trail off at his unexpected appearance. Jing Yuan does not meet your gaze, however, instead choosing to remain upright behind you and fixate his focus onto the man who kicked up a fuss, expression hardened into that akin of a general.

The little finch is not deterred by the overwhelming presence Jing Yuan now exudes. Rather, it chirps happily and nudges its head against your jaw once more before making itself comfortable along the slope of your neck. Looking at it a little closer you realise it's the one who sometimes greets you when you and Jing Yuan meet up, finding purchase on your shoulder during a round or two of starchess. A smile makes its way onto your lips when it leans into the touch of your finger.

It would seem the small bird did a great job in distracting you, however, for the next thing you know wind sweeps past you, exclamatory apologies spewed out in haste follow and gradually fade in its wake. There’s a faint chime of the bell and a missing presence in front of you.

Oh, you blink, he ran away.

Jing Yuan turns to you then, expression much softer than it was a few moments prior. “Are you alright?” he asks, his hand gently squeezing your free shoulder.

“Yeah, thank you,” you sigh. Your fingers lift to massage away the built up tension in your temples. “I’m sorry you had to see that on your break.”

There’s a small pause. “You shouldn’t apologise for something like that.”

“Huh…?” It was a mistake to meet his gaze, you belatedly realise, for your breath is ceased by the flame which burns molten gold, your heart caught in your throat amidst a gravitas you haven’t seen for a while.

His lips part, tone gradually changing to something more light-hearted; a stark contrast to his current expression. “You were just doing your job. It was that customer who was in the wrong. Honestly, he should have known better than to talk so flippantly about that topic.”

Well, you can’t refute his words.

“What are you doing here anyway?” You cough in an attempt to divert the topic, only to raise a brow at his unreadable countenance. “I thought you said you would be busy.”

Jing Yuan pauses, as though hesitant, before responding, “I sent you a message to send notice of my visit but you didn’t even leave me on read, so I knew there was something wrong.”

“I didn’t even notice…” Without a moment’s haste, you pull out your phone. There on your home screen displays notification banners: 6 unread messages from my headache <3.

my headache <3: I have some free time, so I will be paying you a visit. Don’t mention this to Qingzu though, she doesn’t know I am taking a break. =w=

my headache <3: Are you busy? You don’t usually leave me on delivered for longer than five minutes.

my headache <3: Did I do something to make you mad?

my headache <3: [Name]?

my headache <3: …

my headache <3: I will be at the cafe soon. Wait for me.

A pang of guilt seeps into your conscience. You hadn’t realised he sent so many messages. Did that customer take up that much of your attention? Also, do you really not leave him on delivered for more than five minutes??

“Oh! You kept the heart I put there?” Your thoughts are promptly cut off by the baritone voice resounding beside your ear. His light breaths puff against your skin as he leans against you, peeking over your shoulder to read the messages he sent.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you huff, eyes trained onto the device to avoid meeting his gaze. “I said you could make any changes you wanted to your contact name and this was what you wanted.”

He stiffens at your words, breath stuttering ever so slightly against your skin but quickly catches himself. There’s no response for a while, instead a wave of calm washes over you as you scroll through your phone with Jing Yuan watching from his place over your shoulder, sometimes recalling a particular memory which comes to mind at certain photos in your camera roll.

It goes on like this for a little while until he shifts, strands of silver brushing against the shell of your ear when he releases a light sigh. You glance over your shoulder only to see him already looking at you, the lines of his features soft and gentle.

“You know,” he starts, voice soft with a twinge of nostalgia seeping through, “I’m your first and longest supporter.”

Well, that certainly came out of the blue.

But he’s not wrong, and perhaps that is why you find yourself huffing out a breathy laugh in response. “What? You want me to praise you?”

“Would you?” he asks, an instantaneous response to your lighthearted jest.

You stare at him, incredulous, but he doesn’t falter. His gaze holds weight, seizing your breath and rendering you speechless. Ah, he really isn’t good for your heart.

“Keep dreaming, general.”

Despite the scoff backing those words, you make no effort to hide your smile. And though you don’t catch it, Jing Yuan makes no effort to hide the adoration glistening in his gaze.

Sidestep to the left. Duck. Step back. Parry. Clang! Step to the right. Pivot. Clack! Raise your arm—!

A sword flies up, twirling mid-air as it plummets back down and digs cleanly into the grass. It gleams under the artificial sun, becoming a focal point in the otherwise barren grounds. You straighten your posture, spear at your side and a bottle of water in hand as you approach the worn-out aspiring Sword Champion.

“You’ve improved, Yanqing.” You smile when he looks up, breathing ragged as he mumbles his thanks before guzzling down the fluids of the water bottle now in his hands. You sit beside him, and it’s not long before a refreshed sigh escapes him, setting the near-empty bottle in his lap.

A lapse of silence. A faint breeze. A wave of heat. A shift of gold.

You sigh upon noticing the boy’s gaze switching between you and your weapon. “What is it?”

“That spear,” he starts, “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“How so?”

“It’s different from the spears the rest of the Cloud Knight’s use and, even though it has a similar aura to the general’s Devastator Glaive, it feels like… it was almost made for you. A weapon that only you can wield.”

For a teen yet to explore the larger part of life, he is frighteningly perceptive. He’s quick to pick up subtle nuances and yet retains that innocent curiosity which enables him to ask questions most adults would not. It’s part of a child’s charm, and you can only hope he will never be robbed of that part of him.

“Made for me, you say?” You cast a glance to your side, vision tunnelling into the fine details which adorns the crafted spear. Despite the many centuries the weapon has braved through, it still appears as though it were only crafted yesterday. Its colours are still vibrant and its exterior holds minimal wear. Your breath hitches when your gaze trails down towards the hilt and hones in on the faintly carved names: yours and the one who gifted this to you.

Your mind numbs. There’s a matching bow which sits in your home, you recall, locked away in a spare room deep within the confinement of your walls. There are other accompaniments, too, surrounding it in decorated, bejewelled boxes filled with handicrafts ranging from everyday trinkets to carefully crafted ornaments carved from the purest of jades.

It sits there, collecting dust all year round. All year round except for one single day — a day when your thoughts surge to new heights and can only be tamed when in that room, cleaning off layers of dust and spiralling into seemingly endless nostalgia. It serves as both a commemoration of the past as well as a reminder for what will never again be.

Immortality truly is a wretched thing.

“[Name]?”

You blink, snapping out of your thoughts. Yanqing, who was sitting beside you mere moments prior, is in front of you with a hand on your shoulder. He probably shook you while you were lost in thought, you surmise. How mortifying…

“Your teacher seems to be slacking off,” you cough, swiftly changing the topic. He doesn’t take note of your awkward transition, but, if he did, he’s done a good job hiding it. “Is he busy?”

“The general?” he repeats in a murmur, chin held between his thumb and forefinger with a contemplative expression. He blinks. “Nope! No clue.”

“I see,” you sweatdrop. Worry begins to pool in the back of your mind, but it is quickly smothered when Yanqing jumps up, bouncing on his heels as he shows off his recovered energy and readiness to spar with you for another round.

You cast one last glance at your spear before standing, following close behind an eager Yanqing as he bounds to the middle of the field with his sword in hand.

(You can still recall him; the young man who gave you these gifts way back when, putting on airs of nonchalance in a poor attempt at masking his bashfulness, the furtive glances, the hand raised to rub the back of his neck, the awkward cough he always did before excusing himself after gifting whatever it was he made that time — all of it is practically ingrained into your mind.

You can still recall him; how could you not when he is the same man who haunts you when in your lonesome.)

He’s not here. Again.

You’ve lost count of the number of times your focus darts to the door when a resounding chime of the bell is heard, only to be left with aching disappointment when it turns out to be anyone other than Jing Yuan. His radio silence is concerning, though you suppose any kind of silence from him has that effect considering he always made sure to notify you when he would be busy, therefore unable to visit you due to urgent matters.

Has he been well? Has he been eating regularly? What of his sleeping habits? He’s not overworking himself again, is he? What if he left on an expedition without saying anything?

Your answer appears in the form of Yukong.

“The general?” she repeats, blowing lightly on the freshly brewed coffee before answering you. “While I am not completely in the know, I’ve heard in passing that he has been cooped up in his office. For once.”

It’s practically common knowledge to the Luofu citizens how Jing Yuan tends to be absent from the Seat of Divine Foresight. More often than not, he will appear as a hologram, sometimes choosing to instead give advance notice of his lack of presence. Well, you suppose most have grown accustomed to finding him at the cafe. So for him to now hide away in his office without a word is of course a matter of concern. After all, the last time he did this was years ago, and that was because he didn’t want you to worry about… him.

You pause, fists clenching at your belated realisation. A tinge of frustration begins to creep up, but the concern over his condition is far more prevalent, curling around and constricting your heart as worry clouds your senses. “That guy…”

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he comments, voice languid in a valiant attempt to hide the undertone of surprise at your arrival. He quickly recovers with a genial smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your arrival?”

Admittedly, it would have fooled many others. Unfortunately, you have known him too long to be fooled by such tactics. You’re sure he knows, if the slight waver in his gaze has anything to say about it.

Instead of answering, you choose to remain still in front of the now-shut doors. He doesn’t seem to notice though, as he merely resumes his task in a robotic manner. Except for the two of you, the office is void of the usual stationed knights and his few assistants, making the room feel much larger. It’s daunting.

Your unease does not fade after hearing his voice. No, it only heightens, his sluggish movements and voice laden with exhaustion further spiralling you into a state of distress over his well-being. You watch his slow blinks, head dipping slightly only to snap up to prevent himself from falling into slumber before continuing to sign document after document, replacing each signed sheet with a new one in a never-ending cycle.

It would have been comical if you weren’t aware of the fact he’s been neglecting his health to finish these papers.

Typically, he wouldn’t be having this issue, always having been the type to get his work done ahead of time despite his… less than professional demeanour at times, though it seems the papers have been brought in heavy bulk this time around; that, or they contained pressing matters which couldn’t be put off.

“Take a break,” you finally say, unable to stand the sight of him pushing himself any longer. He doesn’t spare you a glance. If it weren’t for the brief pause in his writing before continuing, you would have thought he didn’t hear you. Teeth digging into your lower lip and eyes narrowing into a glare, you try once more. “I’m serious. Take a break.”

Palpable silence douses the room.

And then he lifts his head, meeting your furrowed gaze. His eyes are anything but bright, a dull glaze coupled with dark eyebags signifying his lack of sleep.

“I have to finish signing these papers,” Jing Yuan sighs out, giving what you assume to be an apologetic glance before lowering his head back down to resume the paperwork.

Unfortunately for him, you won’t allow him to succeed in his attempts.

“And I don’t want you to collapse from overwork again!” He flinches at that, and you know you have managed to convince him when he places his pen down on the table’s surface and relents with a deep sigh. When he finally nods, defeated, the building tension dissipates and you’re able to breathe without worry again.

With cautious steps, you make your way over to the large chair. Having been in this room countless times, it’s easy for you to glide to where Jing Yuan sits despite the darkness which now drapes like a veil over the interior.

When you reach his seat, your eyes harden at the scattered documents, staring at them for a few seconds in hopes it will miraculously burn them, before tearing your gaze away and focusing on your weary friend.

“Let’s get you home,” you mutter. You lean down and prepare to help him stand in case he needs the extra support after having sat for too long. It doesn’t go as planned, however, when he tugs you down beside him and plops his head onto your lap. “Hey—!”

“Just for a moment…” he intercepts, voice heavily laced with sleep. The second you lock eyes, you know it’s all over for you. “Just for a moment, stay here with me.”

And you sigh knowing ��a moment’ will turn into hours. But you’re fine with that. As long as he gets his rest and can finally let his guard down, you would gladly lend him your lap for days on end.

“Fine.” You shift slightly to provide him more comfort. “Take as long as you need. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He responds in the form of a grateful smile and soft squeeze to your hand. Within a matter of seconds he’s sound asleep, the steady rise and fall of his chest soothing the dull ache in your heart.

Cautiously, you raise your free hand and reach out to his peaceful expression. His hair is silkier than you last remember, easily threading your fingers through the soft strands to brush them away from obscuring his features.

‘Than I last remember’, huh…

Your eyes trail to the hand clutched in his.

Thinking back on it, it has been a while since you last relaxed like this with him. Life tends to be busy, the cafe takes up most of your time, and Jing Yuan has his official duties to take care of. No matter how lax he tries to play it off, you’re aware he has his hands full with governmental affairs and conjuring a multitude of tactics to minimise losses. That’s the kind of person he is — to badger you about the happenings in your life, yet hide away and gloss over his with a genial mask so as to not worry you.

You’ve always hated that part of him. Why can’t you worry for him? Why must it always be he who consoles you but not the other way around? Does he truly not know how his evasive tendencies pain you, intentional or not?

Questions, questions, questions; all these questions and yet there’s never a concrete answer.

Is he… really so oblivious to the way his secrecy is what spurs your distance with him?

Your hand pauses.

Perhaps steadily drawing a line between you is a pointless pursuit in clinging onto the past, a fleeting hope for everything to revert back to the way it was before; to deny the happenings of bygones which paved the way for the present.

Things will never be what they once were. You understand that. You accept that. And, perhaps, that is what makes it hurt all the more.

Four familiar faces emerge from deep within the hidden crevices of your conscience, ones you have not physically seen for a long time — too long, perhaps. And yet they appear just as vivid as before everything went up in flames, endlessly haunting you when you’re left alone with the silence of your own mind. No matter how tightly you shut your eyes in blatant refusal of their presence, nor the strength in which you cover your ears to drown out the remnants of their voices, they never leave you alone. They cling to you, desperate; the same way in which you are to be free of them.

But even so, in spite of the hostility and bitterness and hurt which remains in their wake and binds itself to their legacies, you cannot help but to wish they are doing well, wherever it is they may now be.

And maybe it’s the full moon glaring down at you which spurs this wishful thinking but, on the off-chance they return, perhaps those of you that are left can gather at the cafe after closing hours and chat about anything and everything, exciting and menial, you have come to experience in the time spent apart.

(Just like old times.)

But, of them, only Jing Yuan remains, and maybe that is why he doesn’t manifest alongside them as a result of this aching nostalgia, instead resting peacefully on your thighs with steady, even breaths; the only indication that he truly is here with you.

“We will be okay, Jing Yuan,” you find yourself whispering as you gaze down at him. “We’ve made it this far, and we’ll continue on, braving through our fate.”

The image of him blurs, his colours further contorting the more you try to blink it away. It is then you force your eyes shut, lean down towards him, lightly brush away his fringe and press two fleeting, chaste kisses: one against the skin of his forehead and the other atop the mole under his left eye. “If not for myself, then, for you, I’ll be okay.”

Whether that’s to reassure you or him… you’re not sure.

For as long as you can remember, Jing Yuan has always been with you.

It wasn’t merely a matter of staying by each other’s side during the day; no, it’s more than that. Your relationship runs deep — centuries bordering a millennia worth of memories tucked away in the crevices of your mind — and it would be an understatement to say you know each other like the back of your hand.

Together, the two of you have been through it all, in practically every sense of the word.

Despite enlisting into the Cloud Knights, it was far from what you wanted, instead aligning with the demands of your parents. To have that expectation of continuing your family’s tradition, to have that burden of battling for the Xianzhou Luofu’s legacy, to have that constant worry of one day being mara-struck due to your race, to perhaps never be able to do what you want for yourself, shackled to generations of family service… that was the meaning of your existence. Whether you liked it or not.

You eventually gave up, simply accepting your unwanted fate and following the hollowed footsteps carved by your ancestors. That was how you ended up amongst the new recruits for the Cloud Knights and listening to the current general’s speech about glory and honour and pride — all for the Xianzhou Alliance; all for the Xianzhou Luofu; all for the Cloud Knights.

Fate is such a weird thing, you remember thinking to yourself as your gaze swept across many others in the same uniform as you. Because despite you all looking the same, despite you all holding the same make of spear, you knew their passion and dedication to serve the alliance would far outweigh your own.

He was no exception.

Contrary to you, the boy who stood a couple rows in front wanted to be there. It was obvious in the way his eyes glimmered, the way he held himself in an upright posture and focused with rapt attention on the general at the front. Perhaps that was what caught your eye back then — the pure, unadulterated desire rolling off him had rooted you in place and forced your attention to be on him.

With a sigh you averted your gaze. There was only one thought which resonated within you in that brief moment: you would never grow close to that boy.

For, unlike you, he was made to shine under the glow of the artificial sun, while you were a passionless bystander relinquished of your fate.

It wasn’t long before you made a name for yourself amongst the new recruits of the Cloud Knights. It stemmed from a training session-turned-competition. One which you came out on top.

A natural prodigy is what they called you.

A lucky fluke is what they whispered behind your back.

Looking back, you’re not sure why you tried so hard. Did you think you would have it easy if you won? If anything, it probably made your future that much more troublesome with weighty expectations and watchful eyes from those around you.

Well, there went your quiet life.

At least it couldn’t be as suffocating as it would be back at home. The most you would receive are jealous glances from your weaker peers, or urges from your trainers to try a bit harder. But what reason was there to try when the outcome never changed?

“Why are you here?”

“Huh?” When you looked up, hands still gripped tight around the length of your training spear, your unimpressed eyes met pools of gold. They widened upon contact.

“Wait— that’s not what I—!” he had cut himself off with a sigh, pink dusting his cheeks. He quickly regathered himself and faced you once more. “I mean, why are you here when you clearly don’t want to be? I watched your matches earlier, but there was no light in your eyes… Kind of like now.”

Was that the expression you had? You would never know. What you did know was that the boy was persistent. Evading the topic would not work on him and, quite frankly, you were tired.

“I’m only here because of my parents,” you began. Your fists clenched and your eyes hardened as you lowered your gaze to the grass. “I hate my fate. I have no say in what I can or can’t do in my own life. That’s all there is to it.”

There was a moment of silence after your sombre words. Maybe now he would leave you alone and be on his way. Just like it should be. Someone like him who shines above the rest has no business with you, whose passion was extinguished before it could manifest.

“That’s not true.” Your gaze snapped up, words of protest ready to be let loose only for that burst of anger to dissipate the second you locked eyes. “You can escape your fate.”

“Hah! What nonsense are you—”

“Because that’s what I did.” You blinked once, twice. Your disbelief must have been obvious by the way he flushed slightly, the crimson tinge spanned from the tips of his ears to the apples of his cheeks. “I mean, my ‘fate’ was originally supposed to be a scholar or some kind of official in the Realm-Keeping Commission and follow my family’s footsteps, but look where I am now. I’m nowhere near that.”

It was strange. He was not supposed to be someone similar to you. He was supposed to be someone you could only gaze at from afar. He burned brightly; you did not.

And yet, through his next words, you discovered that you, too, were capable of dreaming and hoping, the light suddenly appearing in what you deemed to be an abyssal darkness.

“I’m now a Cloud Knight, and I believe that you can also change your fate!”

A sense of camaraderie formed between you and the golden boy that day, an odd, tingling warmth coiled around your heart. Though an unfamiliar feeling, you found you didn’t hate it.

“Master asked about you today.”

“Tell her my answer is still no.”

“You don’t even know what she asked about!”

“Don’t need to.”

A sigh came from your left at your instant retorts, but that didn’t bother you. The sun was still up and you were set on soaking up as much of it as you could before Jing Yuan had to leave for his training.

It had been a couple years since you first met now, and you somehow became an inseparable pair; where one of you would be spotted, the other wouldn’t be far behind if not already there.

Well, most of the time, at least.

When Jing Yuan had caught the attention of the Sword Champion, Jingliu, he was offered a place in her team. He accepted, of course, and ever since then he began training under her guidance. As a result, those were the only times you were actively separated.

But by extension, you were somehow roped into her interest.

“So this is where you were.” You grimaced at the familiar tone, turning away as Jing Yuan scrambled beside you.

“Master…!”

“You go on ahead, Jing Yuan. There’s something I need to discuss with [Name].”

Although you hadn’t raised your head, the hesitation in Jing Yuan’s movements were clear. The silence stretched on for a long few seconds before he sighed, “I’ll meet you after I finish, [Name].”

And then he was gone, only you and the Sword Champion remained under the tree’s shade. Blades of grass swayed under the faint breeze, but that, too, came to a standstill within seconds.

“I noticed you didn’t take the oath earlier,” Jingliu said, the silence broken.

A humourless laugh escaped your lips. “I didn’t realise the Sword Champion was keeping such a close eye on me.”

“You’re hiding your talent.” You fell silent at her abrupt statement. Your fingers twitched when she continued. “I know you’re capable of more than you let on.”

What do you know? You thought to yourself as your fingers dug into the grass. You know nothing about me, so stop acting like it.

You never understood why she was so persistent. Was it because of how close you and Jing Yuan were? Had your parents somehow managed to contact and persuade her? What did she even gain from chasing after you when it was clearly a waste of her time? Why…

“Why… why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Because he worries for you.” Your body stilled at her words. You stayed silent for a moment before responding, albeit weaker than your previous tone.

“I’m fine. There’s no reason to worry about me.”

“…[Name]—”

“It’s probably best if you go. Jing Yuan’s waiting for you.” She faltered at your words, ultimately conceding.

A sigh escaped you when you noticed her fall back and prepare to head to their usual training spot. She lingered however, and cast a glance over her shoulder to regard you once more.

“You should visit our training sometime,” Jingliu uttered, her usual stern expression a touch softer than what you were used to. “It would be nice to train together, and you can spend more time with Jing Yuan. I hope you can at least consider it.” And then you could only watch as she walked away, the hues of the sunset steadily engulfing her form.

Back then you had scoffed at her words, unaware of the bond you would come to form with the members of the High-Cloud Quintet as a result of your wretched curiosity.

“Someone became mara-struck on the expedition.”

“What…?” A soft gasp came from your left. “Is that why only you…”

“Yeah,” you hummed. You had no courage to face your friend next to you, choosing to instead stare listlessly at your quivering hands. “It happened so quickly. One moment we were discussing tactics, the next we heard screaming. It was agonising. And then, in the blink of an eye…” you gulped, drawing in a harsh breath as your hands clenched into fists, “I killed her. I had to. I… I was the only one left from the team and she kept coming after me and I realised then I truly didn’t want to die and—!”

Your words came to an abrupt halt, smothered by an all-too familiar warmth. The beat of his heart against your ear calmed your erratic breaths, allowing you to regain some semblance of composure. Even when you could no longer hear the rapid pounding of your heart ringing through your ears you remained slumped against his chest, the fatigue weighing down your muscles.

“Jing Yuan,” you called in a hoarse tone, “am I a monster now?”

“You’re not,” came his immediate response. You couldn’t find it in you to believe him.

“But I killed someone, Jing Yuan! We were comrades in arms and I took her life!”

“The situation was out of your control and it was the only thing you could do. It was for your survival and to stop her from suffering any longer. You’re not a monster, [Name].” His voice was steady like a pillar of support, a calm sound that could make you believe all the prior happenings were a mere nightmare you’d just awoken from. His arms around you tightened and pushed you further into his familiarity. “You never could be. Never to me.”

That day was the first time you had ever cried so hard to the point you passed out, the exhaustion having finally caught up. That day you were left unaware of the tears Jing Yuan held back as he bore witness to your rare vulnerability, vision blurring and heart aching as he internally vowed to stay by your side — until he no longer physically could.

As you both grew older within this endless spiral of longevity, you could only watch as he became something more than a mere soldier of the Cloud Knights — as he began to be someone out of your reach and unfamiliar against a golden glow too radiant for you to perceive.

It wasn’t long after that you left the Cloud Knights for a placement in a newly opened cafe, having had enough of a life out of your control and dictated by others. You had stayed with the Cloud Knights long enough and you finally found the courage to leave after your numerous contributions.

And while your family may not have been pleased with your decision, Jing Yuan had been supportive, taking it upon himself to visit you when he could despite his limited free time in-between training and expeditions. The other four of the High-Cloud Quintet would tag along as well, sometimes relaying entertaining stories to embarrass the others or to simply catch up with you during your time apart as you readily prepared food and drinks for the six of you to enjoy.

It felt like a dream to still be able to laugh with them.

Unfortunately, all dreams must come to an end. It was a notion that was so glaringly obvious, and yet it never truly occurred to you; not when their visits gradually became less frequent. Not when you began to notice the tension between a couple of your friends. Not when a familiar cold lingered during the moments where all was silent and you were alone.

It was through those moments you foolishly clung to the fraying hope that everything would turn out okay — that all the budding tension would smooth itself out, allowing for you to all converse like it never happened and to move past the hurdle.

Perhaps it was because you had deluded yourself into believing everything would be okay that, the moment your fantasy shattered before your very eyes, it hit you in a way far more torturous than death could ever hope to be.

It hit you in the form of Jing Yuan returning to you on that fateful day in his lonesome, eyes hollow and empty, body battered and bruised; your heart which beat for him shattered when he slumped against you, your world crashing in pursuit. The after-effects of the sobs wracking his battle-worn being reverberated through your slack form, a seemingly endless stream of tears stung the skin along the crook of your neck as he released his unfiltered anguish within your trembling embrace.

You found there was no need to ask how the confrontation with Jingliu went, for his desperate grip and hitched breaths spoke louder than his voice ever could.

At that moment, you believed there was nothing more painful than the sound of his broken cries — your mind, body and soul yearning to take his pain and make it your own at the sheer despair in his eyes as he seeked your comfort. In that moment, you had never felt so powerless, so utterly weak and useless when all you could do in the face of his agony was lend him your familiarity in the confines of the closed cafe.

Even now, seven hundred years later, you still do not believe there to be anything more painful.

During your quiet moments, you’ve always wondered what it would be like to experience some of the scenes penned in countless novels you’ve read. Would they be just as heart-throbbing as the authors depict them to be? Or would they fall flat and lacklustre when put into a real-world scenario?

What about the stories you’ve overheard during your shifts, or the tales the regulars recounted during the slow days? Would they ever happen to you as well? You’ve always wondered about these things, however…

Just what is this situation?? Isn’t it a bit too similar to that one scene in a novel you recently read? Well, it’s not as if you’re hiding away in the middle of an apocalypse, but the setting of an empty cafe after dark where it is just the two of you still remains the same.

Jing Yuan stands before you, his imposing silhouette prominent against the fragmented brushes of moonlight, pools of molten gold stark against the night’s backdrop. He remains still in the face of your racing thoughts.

The pelting rain (courtesy of the alliance’s artificial weather) drowns your thoughts. In all honesty, you can’t recall how you came to be in this situation. One moment you were closing up the cafe, the next a sudden downpour arrived alongside a drenched general. In your haste to bring him inside, you didn’t stop to think about why he was in the rain in the first place, the only objective in your mind being to dry him as soon as possible.

And so that’s what you did. Only, in your attempt to persuade the man to share an umbrella and walk back home, you were pulled back into him, the umbrella rolling helplessly across the floor as he rooted you in place by the presence of his hands on your shoulders.

Which leads you to your current predicament now.

“What is it?” you ask upon noticing his silence. There is hesitation in his silence. It prolongs in the way a void is endless, stretching on for miles upon miles with no end in sight. There’s a flicker of light in the form of his voice as he brings himself to speak, his words firm yet lacking that usual self-assured intonation he always has.

“Am I someone close to you? No, do you consider me as someone close to you?”

“What nonsense are you…” your words die out when you fail to see his usual air of playfulness, a grave countenance piercing you in its stead. “Of course I consider you as someone close to me. I wouldn’t have spent centuries upon centuries by your side otherwise.” He doesn’t seem to take your light jest well, if his darkening expression has anything to say about it.

“Then why are you still formal with me, even when in private and away from prying eyes?”

“Because you’re one of the Seven Arbiter-Generals, while I am a cafe employee. In a realistic perspective, we are not the same and I’m aware of our boundaries. In fact,” you mumble, meeting his conflicted gaze with a blank one, “I should be the one asking you if I’m someone close to you.”

It’s silent for a brief moment, up until a whispered murmur of “And just who is the one speaking nonsense now?” shatters it.

Your patience, too, shatters alongside it.

“Then what else am I supposed to think when you’re always keeping things from me? You’re always asking about what I’ve done in the day and prying into the details of my life, but what about you? Whenever I ask how things are, or if there’s anything troubling you, you just brush it off like it’s nothing and avoid answering altogether! Am I not allowed to worry about you? Am I not someone who can lend you a shoulder?

You always blabbered about sharing each other’s pain, to not keep our hardships to ourselves, but take a look at yourself first. ‘Am I someone close to you?’ ‘Do you consider me as someone close to you?’ You have no right to ask me those questions when it’s you who's been the one keeping their distance this whole time. What…” A shuddering breath escapes you, your mouth running dry amidst your high emotions. There’s a dull pain which spreads through your bottom lip, your teeth digging into the soft flesh just as your nails do in your palms. Your eyes squeeze shut, and you can only hope it's enough to prevent the well of tears building behind your lids. “What else am I supposed to do if you refuse to let me in?”

You’re tired, you come to realise. Tired of his avoidance and tired of his secrecy. Even if you don’t have the energy to voice your other built-up sentiments, you have an inkling he already knows — whether or not he wants to admit it… well, that’s a problem for him, not for you.

The sigh you release is heavy; heavy with emotion and fatigue.

Your gaze drifts to the window behind the silent man. Despite the ripples in the puddles, the previous downpour has begun to let up, now only a faint pitter patter is all that remains. Seeing how Jing Yuan has made no effort to move or speak, you decide it would be best to leave as soon as possible. After all, there is no fight left in you, only a frail shell hollowed by your insecurities.

When you try to move, however, his grip tightens. You’re pulled closer than you were just a moment ago and his fingers dig into the fabric of your clothing — as though he were desperate to keep you in his sights. Your protests die before they can even arise, for the way his eyes glimmer despite there being no light renders you immobile.

“Do you really not see?” His voice comes in the form of a broken whisper, and you try to suppress the suffocating ache in your heart when he gazes at you as though he witnessed you pluck the stars and hand it to him.

“See what?” you scoff, a weak sound that pales against the hammering of your pulse. “All I see is a coward running away from his problems.”

A cold silence. A trembling grip. A shuddering breath.

“You’re right. I am a coward.” You’re taken aback by his ready agreement, though you’re unable to dwell on it for long when his voice gradually begins to rise, his emotions spilling over in pursuit. “I run from problems I cannot handle. I avoid anything that can be deemed as troublesome. I fear that if I burden you with my pain — with my hardships — you will grow tired of me and leave. You’re already so far away, you’ve always been so far from my reach, and yet…” A strained gulp follows his dying words. “And yet if even your fading silhouette is something I can no longer see, then I don’t know what I will do with myself.”

There’s a plethora of things you want to say, but none can be articulated. No matter how much you try and force the words out, nothing is uttered. Just as you think the words will string together, he laughs, humourless and empty.

“You’re right. I have no right to ask you when I’m the one pushing you away — when I’m the one causing this rift between us. But what else must I do to stay by your side, if not this? Where else can I reach you, if not shadowed by your light? You’re the last person I want to lose, [Name], so please,” his voice trembles ever so slightly, a detail that would go unheard if it were not for the fact it is just the two of you, a desolate silence, and frail streaks of moonlight, “don’t go to some place I can’t find you.”

His chest heaves in tandem with his shuddering breaths, the only sound which punctures the still air. You’re not sure which is louder: that, or the white noise ringing amidst your senses. There is no room for thought, however, as you barely take note of your lips parting and the words which leave them.

“You… make me feel like a fool the longer I stay with you.” Your words are not loud, nor are they particularly harsh. But with the current atmosphere being so tense, you may as well have shouted them from the bottom of your heart with the way the echo ricochets within the empty cafe.

Even if your words are not loud, the silence most definitely is; deafeningly so.

After your… confession, for a lack of better words, belatedly registers in your conscience, you have half a mind to slap yourself silly. After all, who in their right mind responds to such an emotional, heartfelt barrage with… that.

You, it would seem.

(A petty part of you deems it fine considering the inner turmoil he’s put you through for Aeons knows how long.)

“Do you want to know something?” he asks, leaving you with no time to linger on your life choices. “When I’m with you, I feel like a fool as well.” Your surprise must have been obvious as he chuckles lightly with a gaze never straying from you. There’s a subtle shift in the atmosphere, one which lightens your heart without dismissing the emotions woven into the space between you. Before you can even think up a response, he continues. “Even if I rehearse what I plan to say to you, it rarely comes out the way I want. Sometimes the words don’t even come out at all. It’s always been this way, even before we became acquainted with each other.”

You blink at his words, stupefied. “You mean back when we were first enlisted into the Cloud Knights?” His sheepish chuckle is answer enough. “Wait— you mean— since all the way back then— huh??”

“Yeah,” he responds, voice light and teeming with unbridled affection, “since the moment I saw you in the welcome ceremony.”

????? Since then?! All you can remember is not wanting anything to do with him back then! To think you never noticed anything until he said it now, though technically it’s not entirely your fault since he never explicitly said anything… right?

Yeah, no it’s both your faults.

“I’m sorry to not have noticed anything till now,” you sigh, your head drooping. “Is there anything I can do to make up for it?”

(Jing Yuan just barely manages to control himself from kissing you senseless right then and there. Who gave you the right to be so adorable?? Not him, but you won’t catch him complaining.)

“Anything, you say?” he asks after a cough or two. Your eyes narrow at his behaviour before shrugging it off.

“Well, within reason…” you trail off at his pointed look, your mouth instantly shutting at his expression akin to — dare you say — puppy-dog eyes. It’s oddly cute, though you’ve always found his sleepy, cat-like demeanour to be the most endearing and heart-melting of all. (Not that you would ever admit this to him, of course. Well, not when he’s awake, at least.) And so, unsurprisingly, you relent. “Okay. Anything.”

“Then don’t be formal and act distant in public. Just call me ‘Jing Yuan’ familiarly like you used to.”

You blink once, twice. “...That’s it?”

“Well,” he drawls, “considering how you only addressed me as ‘General’ or ‘General Jing Yuan’, which was admittedly closer to my preference, despite being one of the few who were well aware I never wanted to be a general in the first place, I believe it’s the least you can do to show your sincerity.”

You scoff. “You sure know how to hold a grudge, foolish Jing Yuan.”

And he laughs, a breathy melody which sets your heart ablaze. Then you feel his fingers thread through yours, the faint callouses brushing against the back of your hand a testament to his battle prowess.

His lashes flutter shut as your hand is brought up towards his lips. Just as the plush of his lips grazes against your palm, his head dips, instead planting a soft kiss along the pulse point of your inner wrist. There’s a huff of laughter against your warmed skin, and you’re positive it’s because he found amusement in the way your pulse surged and stuttered under his lips.

Smug bastard.

His lashes flutter once more when they open into a half-lidded gaze, your wrist growing ticklish as his lips begin to move against your skin as he murmurs out, “I suppose that makes two of us, my foolish [Name].” When he turns to stare at you completely, his expression is nothing short of soft — eyes filled to the brim and overflowing with tender adoration doused in liquid gold and a warm, gentle curve of a smile that has you clammed up and breathless.

“Yeah,” you mumble after regaining some semblance of composure, unable to stop the smile which blooms on your lips, “I suppose it does.”

if you enjoyed this, then reblogs with/or comments are greatly appreciated !! <33

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #jing yuan x reader #jingyuan x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x you #jing yuan x you #jingyuan x you #honkai star rail imagines #hsr imagines #honkai star rail fluff #hsr fluff

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unadulteratedsoulsweets · 9 months ago

Text

A DC X DP IDEA #26

History hates Lovers

Imagine dis…

When Batman got lost in time it was said that he made some signs or even some symbols that send a message in the future. For example, a portrait that looked exactly like him or even a cave painting of a bat that looked too modernized to be from the early cavemen.

But it seems that we have forgotten that every change that he made whether it was just standing in a portrait as a background has a severe consequence in the time stream. The butterfly effect rests on the notion that the world is deeply interconnected, such that one small occurrence can influence a much larger complex system. The effect is named after an allegory for chaos theory; it evokes the idea that a small butterfly flapping its wings could, hypothetically, cause a typhoon.

Small changes could result in another and entirely new timeline, whether the changes were small enough that people don’t notice or large enough that people merely conceived it as normal.

But at the end of the day it still changes, so how did the timeline remain stable as it is?

(I am no expert in time travel so don’t get your hopes up, I do enjoy a good time travel or time travel -fix it fic in A03)

…

Bruce didn’t know where and when he is right now. Still weak and disoriented from the consent way he fell from each timeline. One moment he could be in the middle of a group of cavemen and then he was at the edge of a town in the Middle Ages.

He kept sending messages subtle as they may be, as long as they survived the passage of time and arrived to his future. He just hopes that his teammates can see his messages, especially with the flash in their midst who had both knowledge and experience in time travel.

He tried to fit in every time he tried to send a message as the last thing, he needed was to change the time.

…

But little did Bruce know the little messages he kept making and sending, despite their subtleness still created a butterfly effect. It makes some of the people in the period who were supposed to be in time to some event pause and take a look at the mysterious symbols and signs that Bruce made. Thus, making them late or even have some delay, thus creating a large domino effect that started small. From insignificant people, people who are just literally background characters who just have a very short greeting or meeting with someone in the event made the entire timeline crack.

Clockwork was looking at the time stream due to the fragile situation at hand. CW knew that this event was crucial for the Red Robin’s growth as a detective and vigilante. But the small cracks are turning into something unchangeable, CW knew that this was the only communication that the Dark Knight could send as well it was his way to get back to his own time.

Yet CW can see the cracks getting larger and larger, with each move that the Dark Knight made creating more holes in his known future. Usually, such events as the Dark Knight's faces don’t create any consequences or even affect the time stream of the said dimension as it was meant to be. An event unavertable in the end is more justifiable than the means.

But due to the Flash family going back in time as well the countless time traveler visitors made the time stream in that dimension week and prone to break in any given time. It was just a surprise to CW that it lasted so long.

CW found a solution in the form of his apprentice/ grandson, Phantom. Despite the young ghost being an Ancient of Space as well as the King of Infinite Realms he still needs a mentor to not only guide him to his new duties as an Ancient but also his responsibilities as the future High King.

Space and Time are two sides of the same coin thus CW ended up being the mentor of the young Phantom.

Clockwork sent Danny to not only seal in the cracks in the flow of time but also want some great-grandchildren, if you heard the last part then you heard nothing from me.

…

Danny didn’t know he was getting in when Clockwork sent him out to another errand at another time. He should have gotten used to CW’s vague and cryptic errands through time when he was a teen, but as he was sealing another crack from time, he saw something that shouldn’t be in the period. A man clearly from out of time trying and failing to fit in, though he may have fooled the locals but he had been traveling and fixing time since he was in high school.

At first, he looked perplexed but if CW didn’t mention anything then he won’t do anything.

But slowly Danny realized that whichever period the guy was in, it was where the next set of cracks would be, so Danny decided to follow the guy.

…

Bruce may still be weary and tired from the constant falling through time but even in his tired state can see that there is someone following him.

Every era there that man was, seemingly walking around aimlessly but then he noticed that he kept a good distance away from him.

Eventually, it led to and confrontation between the two males.

…

Danny who explained that despite having the power to travel through time cannot help Bruce as his little messages are creating small cracks in the time stream and are merely there to seal up the cracks, but offers news that he will get back to his own time.

Bruce who is just wishing for human contact that relates to him as well in the verge of going off to the Flash to stop going back in time for another chance to eat a breakfast that tasted better than before.

…

The two began conversing with one another and slowly fell in love.

…

Bruce is the first one to fall hard, Danny whose light-heartedness brought Bruce out of his shell. It had only taken a few conversations with each other to lose his shield around his heart. Danny both accepted both Bruce and Batman within him. Danny’s smile lights up Bruce’s world, at first Bruce tries to hide his feelings to Danny so as not to lose his only companion throughout the ordeal.

…

The two began dancing around their feelings and Bruce in an out of character of him sent a love letter and a poem to Danny when the ghost was needed somewhere else to seal the crack.

As old as I am, I have had the most dreadful experiences in love. I have a very dark past and I'm a damaged soul. My past experiences have groomed me into believing that there's no such thing as true love, but with you, I feel different. You make me fall in love with myself too. You always make me smile, and I'm scared. I'm scared to fall in love and get broken again, I'm scared to give my all, only to be used again, to get shamed and embarrassed. I've seen how careful and caring you are around me, but sometimes you give me a cold shoulder, and it's small things like these that break me. Please bear with me and be fragile. I come from a very painful past where I had to be a woman and have no say. All this love and affection is a little scary to me because I'm not used to it. I'm falling for you and I'm falling hard. I hope our love story has a happy ending. Know that I will always love and cherish you.

(Mmakoma Kamogelo. "My Confession." Family Friend Poems, September 6, 2016. https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/my-confession-2)

Danny who received the letter burned red from reading the poem to the point his freckles were the only thing prominent on his red face, Danny knew that this man was from the future and couldn't help but feel a little bit insecure. That man, the Batman is someone out of his league but sends out a letter and a poem of his own.

Published by Family Friend Poems September 2016 with permission of the Author.

My love for you is uncontrollable.

My feelings for you are unstoppable.

Can't go a day without thinking about you.

Without you, I'm not complete.

With you, my heart finds its beat.

My heart is filled with joy because of your love.

You are my strength, and without you I'm weak.

Before you came into my life, I was

Hopeless, lonely, sad.

When you showed up, I knew that you were sent to me. (Namely CW, Danny just knew that old Ancient did something)

You are always here to support me.

Your smile makes me shy,

And sometimes I wonder where you have been all this while,

But I'm just glad that I managed to get you in my life...

YOU FILL MY HEART WITH JOY!

(Mmakoma Kamogelo. "My Confession." Family Friend Poems, September 6, 2016. https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/my-confession-2)

…

When the two realized both were pinning to one another began sending each other little love notes, in the form of short poems to full-blown letters.

Both males whenever received a letter when one was apart, collected and hid it in a box to reread each stroke of the letter from the other, and whenever they were together, they just spent the entire day basking in each other’s presence.

Their little note exchange didn’t stop whenever Bruce fell to another period, Danny just followed him and started a new exchange mail of letters.

Of course, both used pseudonyms in their letters ranging from initials to fake names using only the letters from their names.

…

When Bruce was saved by Red Robin, he felt relieved as he could now stop falling into another period but another shock as he didn’t get to say goodbye to Danny.

Bruce knew that someday it come, but he was going to offer Danny the future with him. He is going to offer Danny the world, but it seems that it was never meant to be.

Maybe that’s why his past self never met Danny, too disappointed, too dejected to meet him once again.

…

It has been a few months since he came back to his future, it was another family outing organized by Dick.

It was a museum featuring the latest found by archeologists, as Bruce was surveying case to another case, he fell upon a worn-out parchment with his handwriting.

Wide-eyed, Bruce looked closely at the exhibit and found that the description said the letter was about a man named “Brooks” confessing his love in the form of a short poem to a woman named “Daniella” who had the same feelings as him but had other responsibilities to fully go where he is.

Bruce began looking at the other exhibits and there along rows and rows of his letter exchange with Danny from different periods.

Jason and Tim who were a few cases away from him began having a heated discussion with a stranger about the supposed woman in the letters being a man the entire exchange is between a pair of male couple, and the so-called Historians are hiding the fact that it was between men.

Bruce was about to interfere with the upcoming verbal fight when a stranger beside him commented that “Daniella” probably missed “Brooks” as the last letter and poem to the exchange when “Daniella” noticed that “Brooks” is no longer responding is…

(By E.E. Cummings)

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in

my heart)I am never without it(anywhere

I go you go, my dear; and whatever is done

by only me is your doing, my darling)

I fear

no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet)i want

no world(for beautiful you are my world, my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows

higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

(E.E. Cummings. "[i Carry Your Heart With Me(i Carry It In]." Family Friend Poems, https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/i-carry-your-heart-with-me-by-ee-cummings)

Bruce is startled as he doesn’t even notice Danny’s last letter to him when he takes a good look at the stranger…

…

There he is, Danny in his early 30’s looking at him with softness and deep love in his eyes and a gentle smile. As if he hadn’t waited centuries for Bruce to appear once again, and what looked like willing to wait once again for him.

…

PS: If someone out there wanted to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

PPS: As you can see, I have never fallen in love and please mind my poor and lack of love life in my life to relate to my work.

PPPS: I decided to post a bit early, I've got something going on to the actual February 14.

#dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #dp #danny fenton #ghost king danny

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punkshort · 7 months ago

Text

The Stranger

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader

Summary: An unexpected visitor barges into your new apartment, turning your whole life upside down, then disappears just as quickly. Or does he?

Warnings: infidelity is mentioned (reader gets cheated on by OC), language, threats of violence, heavy making out and some sexy situations but no smut

WC: 3K

A/N: When I wrote this, I had still yet to see The Equalizer 2 but I wanted to write an assassin fic and Dave was just right there. So, for the sake of this story, Dave doesn't have a family and he has a cover job. K bye.

Written for @undercoverpena April Showers Challenge

Collection Masterlist

Sunday Night

The apartment was small and a little dirty, but it would do. It would have to. The choices were limited on such short notice, and beggars can't be choosers.

The last thing you thought you would be doing the night before you started your new job was unpacking what little belongings you had in the middle of a goddamn thunderstorm. In an ideal world, you would have waited to move in when the weather was expected to clear, but when you walked in on your boyfriend of four years naked in your bed with his ex-girlfriend only a week ago, you would have moved in the middle of a blizzard if you had to.

That was how you found yourself late Sunday night drenched in a mix of your own sweat and rain, unpacking the last of your clothes from wet cardboard boxes. Making your bedroom the priority was a must. The last thing you needed on top of everything else was wrinkled clothes and a bad night's sleep for your first day of work.

If only you knew what your night had in store.

You were just starting to unpack the boxes for your bathroom, cursing under your breath when you noticed the towels at the very top and bottom of said box were soaked in rain water, when you heard a pounding on your door so loud, you almost screamed.

Nobody even had your address yet. Too embarrassed to tell your friends what your boyfriend - ex-boyfriend - did, the only people who knew you were moving were your parents, and they certainly wouldn't be blessing you with a surprise visit on this side of town after dark.

Tip-toeing out of your bedroom, your hair a half-dry and tangled mess, you slowly crept towards your door. Just as you were about to peek through the peephole, you heard the deadbolt unlock and the door swung open, only to be stopped by a laughably weak, eight link chain.

"Alvarez, it's me, open up," a gruff voice said through the crack in the door. He sounded panicked, but at least it wasn't a home invasion. This man just didn't realize Mr. Alvarez was no longer here and he must have had a key.

Combing your hair back from your face, you tentatively stepped into the beam of light that stretched into your living room from the hallway. When you locked eyes with your stranger, all dark and mysterious, your throat constricted. You could only see part of his face, just one eye and half of his soft looking mouth, but your heart still fluttered a bit in your chest.

"Who are you?" he frowned, eyeing you up and down, and suddenly you felt incredibly self-conscious standing in your own apartment only wearing your white tank top and sleep shorts.

"Excuse me? I live here. Who are you?" you countered, crossing your arms defensively. The man scoffed and tried to get a better glimpse of your apartment, as if he were expecting another person to emerge.

"Where's Alvarez?"

At that point, you felt a little bad. If this man knew Mr. Alvarez well enough to have a key, what you were about to tell him would be devastating, so you sighed and motioned for him to step back.

"Let me undo the chain," you explained, and he paused for a moment, his eyes lingering on your chest before taking a step back and allowing you to close the door and slide the chain off. When you reopened it, you finally saw all of your mystery man. He was decked out in black: black ski cap, black leather gloves, black jeans and jacket, and he dripped rainwater from each article of clothing, creating a small puddle in the thin carpet right outside your door.

"I'm so sorry, but Mr. Alvarez passed away a few weeks ago," you said sympathetically, and while, in your experience, men tended to be less emotional, you didn't expect his response.

"Well that's just fucking great," he muttered, and for the first time you realized he was out of breath. Red flags began to pop up everywhere: the dark clothes, the indifferent response to a friend's death, the fucking hand hidden behind his back. How didn't you notice that before?

You went to quickly shut your door but his hand shot out and stopped you.

"I'm sorry, but I'm gonna need to come in," he said, and your eyes went wide. Your parents warned you this side of town was bad, but the very first night?

"No!" you protested, putting all your weight into pushing on your door, but he wedged himself so you couldn't close it.

"I left something in here and I need it," he explained through gritted teeth.

"Nothing was here when I moved in," you said, still pushing on the door, "I have my phone and I'm calling the police!"

It was a lie. You didn't have your phone. It was still charging on your bed, but you had hoped that would make the man leave. Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect.

The door shoved open and you flew backwards, falling onto your back with a yelp, a sharp pain shooting up your spine.

The man entered your apartment and quickly shut the door behind him before glancing around.

"Are we alone?"

You scowled at him, about to lie, but you realized there was no point so you didn't say anything. He sighed and reached out an arm.

"I'm sorry," he said, and for the first time in your brief interaction, you heard some emotion in his voice. You stared hesitantly at his still wet, gloved hand before grabbing it and allowing him to pull you back up as you rubbed the back of your head with a wince. "You okay?" he asked, his brows furrowed and when you realized both his hands were visible, you relaxed a fraction.

"I think so. What the hell? Who are you?"

"I'm-"

He was about to explain when you both heard heavy footsteps running towards your door. In the blink of an eye, he reached forward and slid the chain back into the lock and deadbolted the door. There wasn't a second to spare because two fists began pounding heavily on the door from the other side.

You gasped softly and stepped backwards, eyes wide and filled with fear. That was when your mystery man pulled out the handgun from the back of his pants, silencer already attached, and your mind went blank.

This was how you were going to die.

"Open up!" a man's voice shouted from the other side as he began to kick at the door, making you jump. The intruder turned to you just as a rumble of thunder shook your building.

"You gotta make them leave."

"Me?" you whispered in a panic, "how do you expect me to do that?"

"They want me, and if they know I'm here, they'll kill me. Do you understand?" he asked, matching the volume of your voice while grabbing your shoulders.

Your lower lip began to tremble and he noticed.

"You can do this," he assured you, walking you backwards towards your bedroom as the shouting and pounding got louder. And as you stared into his deep brown eyes, you started to believe him. "I'm gonna hide and then you gotta tell them I'm not here. Can you do that?"

"If they just want you, why don't I just let them have you?" you asked as he continued to walk you backwards.

"Because they'll kill you, too," he said, his gaze never wavering. "These guys don't leave loose ends."

Fear shot through your body like the bolt of lightning outside your window.

Once he got to your bedroom, he released his grip on your shoulders and headed for your closet. He opened the accordion doors and pushed your clothes aside before sliding in against the wall.

"Just convince them I'm not here. You just moved in, you have no idea what they're talking about, okay?" he said, holding your gaze until you slowly nodded. Then he snapped the doors shut and shuffled your clothes around, leaving you all alone.

As you walked back towards your front door, you snagged a towel from the open box of bathroom stuff and wrapped it around your hair. You could do this. You had to.

You took a deep breath, your hand curling around the brass doorknob, and yanked it open, the chain still holding the door in place so you only saw a glimpse of the men in the hall, but you could see at least four.

"Can I help you?" you asked, trying your best to sound annoyed and not scared for your life. "You interrupted my shower," you added, pointing to your wrapped hair.

"Where is he?" the first man asked. His head was bald but you could see some stubble coming through, indicating he must shave his head.

"Who?" you asked innocently, and the man sneered.

"You know who."

"Actually, no I don't," you said, crossing your arms. "This is my apartment and I was enjoying a quiet night in before you arrived."

"Oh, yeah? You wear a men's shoe, size eleven?" the beefy looking guy asked, quirking an eyebrow as he stared down at the floor. Your eyes slowly drifted down and noticed a wet and dirty outline of your stranger's boot pressed firmly into the ancient beige carpet.

"No," you said, meeting his eye again. "But my boyfriend does. And he's out getting us dinner. We just moved in tonight," you told him confidently, squaring your shoulders and fucking praying the chain would hold if push came to shove.

You saw the men behind him exchange glances and shift their weight as they mulled over what you said. It was working. All you could hear was your own heart pounding loudly in your chest, the rain beating heavily against the glass windows of your living room, and in the distance, another soft rumble of thunder.

The bald man shot one more cursory glance into your apartment before meeting your eye.

"Must have the wrong unit."

You smirked.

"Honest mistake," you said, bravely holding his gaze as the group of them slowly ambled back towards the stairs. Once they were out of sight, you shut the door and twisted the lock, letting out a shaky breath. Your arms and legs were weak, head fuzzy from the adrenaline when you remembered a stranger was stuffed inside your closet.

Stumbling back towards your bedroom, you swung open the closet door, breath shallow and fast just to find him leaning up against the wall, a floorboard in your closet removed, revealing a now empty cash box, and holding up a piece of lingerie.

"For your boyfriend?" he questioned, and your fear quickly transformed into anger when you snatched it from his hand and tossed it on the floor next to his feet.

"Get the hell out of here," you told him, voice trembling.

He gave you a cocky smirk and pushed himself off the wall.

Gazing down at you, eyes flicking from your lips to your eyes, he lowly asked "got a towel I could use?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat and forced your feet to move towards the open box in the middle of your room, snatching up a clean towel and tossing it to him before pulling your own towel from your head and dropping it by your feet.

You watched for a moment as he plucked the ski cap off his head, revealing a thicket of dark brown, wet hair and used the towel to help flick away the moisture. Then your eyes landed on his gun, now tucked into the front of his jeans.

His gaze followed yours and smirked, thinking you were looking at something else.

"See something you like?" he asked, making you blush.

You swallowed roughly and took a step back. "Are you going to kill me, now?"

His gaze softened and he dropped his towel next to yours.

"No."

You eyed him wearily, still not believing him until he took the gun from his pants and tossed it on your bed, a good five feet away, leaving you both defenseless.

"Better?" he asked, and you raked your eyes up and down his body.

"How do I know you don't have any other weapons on you?"

He grinned and took another step forward, his eyes darkening. "You wanna frisk me?"

Your cheeks flushed with heat and you looked away, but he pinched your chin, the leather soft against your skin, and tilted your head back in his direction.

"Tell me something," he murmured, his eyes boring into yours, "you really got a boyfriend coming back here?"

He could see your face fall and he instantly felt regret.

"No," you said softly, your eyes now pinned to the floor with shame, "we broke up. It's why I just moved in here."

He frowned as he studied your face. "Why did you break up?" he asked, his fingers still gripping your chin.

"Caught him cheating on me," you told him. Why could you tell this perfect stranger your deepest shame but you couldn't tell your best friends?

He tsked and inched a little closer. "He's a fucking idiot."

Your eyes snapped up to his in surprise, only to find desire and need reflected right back.

Before either of you could overthink it, your mouths crashed together, your arms wrapping around the back of his neck and his hands pulling at your waist, dragging you against him as you devoured one another. Your fingers raked through his still damp hair, his skin smelling like the rain and sweat and gunpowder, the combination intoxicating. His tongue slipped past your lips with a groan, his exhale coming in quick, hot puffs against your cheek as he walked you back toward your bedroom wall. Once your body made contact with the chipped paint, he reached down and snagged the backs of your thighs, wrapping your legs around him while his tongue swirled aggressively around yours.

When he ground his hips into you, his hardening length rubbing against the ache between your legs, you gasped and tipped your head back.

"I don't even know your name," you whispered as his lips traveled down your neck, nipping and biting playfully as he went, the rain sounding like little musical notes against your singular bedroom window. He just moaned against your skin, his teeth dragging lightly over your collarbone while you rolled your hips against him, desperately some seeking relief for the fire he started between your legs.

He yanked you from the wall, a small squeak of surprise slipping past your lips, fingers digging into his broad shoulders as he carried you to your bed and dropped you down next to his gun. His assault on your neck never stopped. You arched your back, wishing he would take off those damn gloves so you could feel him when his phone suddenly trilled in his pocket. His lips stalled and you held your breath, each of you frozen in the moment wondering how you managed to find yourselves in such a compromising position so quickly.

"Shit," he whispered, reaching into his pants pocket, and you knew right then and there it was over.

He glanced at the screen and gave you an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry," he said, pushing himself away from you and snatching up his gun and hat. "I gotta go."

You sat up on your bed and pressed your legs together, hoping your face didn't look as red as it felt.

Before he left, he glanced back at you, his eyes falling to your mouth, watching as your teeth sunk anxiously into your lower lip, chin bright red from the burn of his five o'clock shadow.

"Thank you," he said, his gloved fingers clenching and unclenching at his side. And before you could respond, he disappeared with just a soft click of your door, making you wonder by morning if you had dreamed him up.

Monday

As expected, you hardly slept. Sleeping in a new place all on its own had its challenges, but after almost dying a handful of times within an hour, a good nights sleep was pretty much out of the question.

You don't know why you did it, but as you were getting ready for work, after a lukewarm shower, you foolishly grabbed the piece of lingerie your stranger discovered in your closet and put it on under your clothes. Maybe you wanted a reminder of him, or maybe you just wanted to feel more confident.

Arriving ten minutes early, the rain drying on the sidewalk but the smell still thick and heavy in the air, you strode up to the front doors of the financial consulting firm, hoping that the amount of coffee you poured down your throat that morning would be enough to keep you at your best.

The perky blonde from HR was showing you around the impressive building as she led you back to the department you would be working with. You were longingly eyeing the fresh fruit in the break room when you turned around and nearly ran smack dab into her back, stumbling a bit in the process.

An apology died on your lips when you found yourself looking past her, gaze falling onto an all too familiar looking man inside an office less than ten feet away, his phone cradled between his shoulder and ear as he typed into his computer, a concentrated look painting his impossibly handsome face. His dark, soft hair was neatly combed, his plush lips twitching into the receiver as his muscular shoulders stretched the fabric of his light blue button down, and when he reached for a file, his eye suddenly catching yours.

Neither of you looked away while he continued to give one word answers over the phone and you barely recognized that the HR girl was showing you your new desk. A desk right outside his office. All you could think about was what his hair felt like between your fingers, what his mouth felt like when he left those marks on your neck you had to cover that morning with makeup.

How he left you, needy and aching for more.

Then your eyes flicked to the shiny name plaque next to his door frame: Dave York.

pt. 2

Please follow @punkshort-notifs and turn on notifications for fic updates ❤️

#undercoveraprilshowerschallenge #dave york #the equalizer 2 #pedro pascal #dave york fanfiction #dave york x reader #dave york x female reader #the equalizer 2 fanfic #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #one shot

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kaiijo · 6 months ago

Note

Hello! I really like your fics and I saw your spotify event! I love Taylor Swift and Phoebe Bridges too so, since you've already wrote Lover (really sweet and cute), I'll ask for "Went looking for a creation myth" (I Know The End is my FAVORITE song) with Zoro. Thank you very much! 😊

I KNOW THE END — RORONOA ZORO

roronoa zoro + went looking for a creation myth content: fem! reader, fluff, part of the spotify wrapped event notes: i’m so sorry this is so late! i hope you like it <3

as a pirate, there are few days you get to just relax and explore places you visit, especially given the particularly high bounty of yours and the rest of the strawhats. you struck gold when you docked in a small town that was amenable to pirate-visitors and very opposed to marine presence.

you, nami, and robin are lounging on some beach chairs the locals lent you. while robin’s deep in her newest book, one that’s bigger and thicker than her last one, you and nami watch as usopp, luffy, and zoro wrestle at the shoreline. usopp manages to get an upper hand on zoro, springing onto his back and covering his eyes. “now, luffy!” usopp yells and luffy’s launching himself towards the two. they all collapse, usopp and luffy laughing raucously and zoro grumbling and cursing beneath them.

“hello to the most beautiful women in the world,” sanji says as he approaches, balancing a tray of iced drinks. “care for refreshers? hibiscus and honey iced tea.” the drinks are a rich fuschia with a lemon at the rim and the sight makes your mouth water.

“thanks, sanji.” you take a drink and pass another to nami while sanji circles your cluster of chairs to get to robin, who doesn’t even look up as she flips a page and takes a glass.

“oi, lovecook, do we get anything?” zoro saunters up the dune, followed by luffy and usopp.

“no.”

zoro scowls before turning to you. “let me have a sip.”

“no!” you say, drawing your glass close to your chest. you can feel the condensation gathering at your fingertips. “get your own!”

“curly brows won’t give me one,” zoro says. “what’s the big deal, just let me have some of yours?”

“no, you always say you’ll only have a little and then glug down half!”

“isn’t a perk of a being in a relationship sharing things with your partner?’

you snort, “please, you’re the biggest hog of us all.” zoro glowers and you sigh, “fine, you big baby.” you hold out your drink and he goes to take it when you jerk your arm back.

“what now?” he asks.

“one condition.”

“what?”

you grin brightly, tapping your cheek. “a sip for a kiss.”

“you’re impossible,” he says, cheeks flushing but he leans down anyway and pecks your cheek. your own cheeks are warm and you’re not sure it’s from the sun.

you let him take a few sips of your drink before you say, “that’s enough, babe.”

“what? it was barely a drop! just a little more.”

“that wasn’t meant for you, mosshead!” sanji says, snatching the glass from him. he looks into the nearly empty cup and scowls at zoro before turning to you apologetically. “don’t worry, i’ll go whip up another, pretty.”

“thanks, sanji.”

“don’t call my girlfriend ‘pretty.’”

“don’t tell me what to do!”

“i’ll say whatever i want to you!”

you’re not surprised as you watch sanji aim a kick at zoro, your boyfriend immediately parrying. as they start kicking up sand, nami shouts, “ugh, can you guys do this somewhere else?” to their credit, they move their fight elsewhere (before nami has the chance to throw her discarded sandal at them).

she leans back in her chair and groans, “i don’t know how you put up with him sometimes.”

“patience,” you reply and she snorts.

“i don’t even remember how you two got together,” she says. “it was just like one day you were both single and then the next day, you told us you were dating.

you smile a little. you’re fond of the memory — the look of shock on the rest of the crew’s face was priceless, and predictably, sanji and zoro got into an argument about you and how zoro is the last person qualified to date you.

“how’d it happen, anyways?”

“what?”

“you and zoro?”

you try to think back on how it happened. it wasn’t like some sparks-fly moment like you’ve read in some of robin’s books nor some burning confession that was just bubbling up inside you. you remember the day he asked you on a date very well, though.

you were sailing on a calm part of the ocean, and it was a sunny day with a gentle breeze. luffy, chopper, and usopp were playing some card game that was rapidly devolving into a cheating match. nami was tending to her tangerine tree while franky and robin were deep in some conversation.

you and zoro had finished training in the gym and were lounging on deck. you basked in the warmth of the sun, on the verge of sleep, and you rolled over. you bumped into zoro and went to apologize but he just shrugged and pulled you in, letting you rest your head against his chest. “this comfortable?” he asked.

“yeah, you’re a good pillow,” you sighed, closing your eyes.

there was a brief pause before zoro said, “i heard nami and curly brows talking about the island we’re going to. said there was a nice restaurant there. want to go?”

“sure, that sounds nice. are you going to be able to play nice with sanji there?”

“i was thinking it would just be use. you and me.”

you crack opened a eye and glance over at him. he wasn’t looking at you but you could see some red creeping up on his ears. you cuddle into him. “yeah, that sounds nice.”

you turn back to nami and say, “i don’t know. it just felt right. natural.”

she seems content with your answer as she nods and leans back in her chair. you do too, closing your eyes, listening to the sounds of the waves crashing against the shore and your boyfriend’s distant yells.

#.𖥔 ݁ ˖ kaiijo writes #kaiijo's spotify wrapped event #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #one piece x reader #one piece imagines #one piece scenario #zoro x you #roronoa zoro x you #roronoa zoro fic #zoro fic #zoro imagine #roronoa zoro imagine

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solecize · 7 months ago

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 | 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. every summer on your grandpa's farm was real-life magic to your younger self, who left a piece of her heart in amber valley when the years went on and the town became nothing but a faint childhood memory. soon enough, you become rocked by his death and realize the dead end in your bustling city world. this leads to you making an abrupt decision. despite knowing nothing but designer purses and the corporate ladder, you uproot your entire life to take over your grandfather's old farm in the town you were desperately trying to remember - alongside a familiar face from your youth that permanently finds his way into your heart. 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: jungkook/reader 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. inspired heavily by stardew valley, friends to lovers, childhood friends, cowboy jungkook, small town alternate universe, slice of life, grief, growing up, mutual pining, jungkook as a parental figure 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. 9k 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒. i don't even know what to say. i normally don't talk a lot and i'm mostly very unserious, but this is the last chapter of the farmouse and honestly, i'm super emotional about it. i'm really grateful for those of you who took the time to read and support this fic, every kind word has meant everything to me. i wrote this fic during a tough time when i needed warmth and joy, so i hope that this fic was able to bring even just a little bit of that for you while reading. (the writing of this chapter was quite literally delayed because my three year relationship ended midway through lol) this was also my first piece of writing in years and it's safe to say that i was able to fall in love with writing again because of this fic, so it'll always hold a special place in my heart. thank you times a hundred again <3

part ten: the midsummer festivalㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ previous. epilogue. masterlist

xxiv. the midsummer festival

squeezing through bodies in the stands, it took all of your focus to not drop the popcorn and drinks wedged in your arms. you should have asked someone to come with you, but you were in such a rush, not wanting to miss a thing. finally, you made it to your seat, plopping yourself in between jiwon and yoongi, and your eyes remained fixed on the lawn the entire time.

amber valley had the most beautiful days you’d ever laid eyes on and today was no exception. you weren’t sure if it was because of the natural charm in the sleepy town or a biased sense of nostalgia towards the countryside that you carried. the midsummer festival was held at the peak of the season, where humidity was as thick as honey and not a single cloud escaped being casted away from the cerulean of the sky. you had no choice but to throw on a tank top and shorts because anything else would feel like suffocation.

“i didn’t miss anything, did i?” you didn’t mean to scream, but there was no other way for your voice to beat the crowd amongst yourselves.

jiwon shook her head, her hair splaying from underneath the baseball hat that she so obviously stole from her brother. “no!”

the show-jumping competition was one of the newest additions to the fair and it proved to be one of the most popular. not only did the majority of the town come out to observe, but the fair also drew in an impressive number of visitors from elsewhere - some of which attended the fair specifically to watch the show-jumping.

“LETS GO KOOKIE!” screamed hoseok at the top of his lungs, holding up a customized poster board with a printed picture of jungkook and leo, depicting the words ‘go jungkook!’

yoongi groaned, “can you sit down? they haven’t even finished setting up for the jump-off yet.”

at this point in the competition, it was down to jungkook and another competitor, a man a few years younger named yesung. up until now, they both achieved the same score after the round performance and both cleared nearly perfect showings. the jump-off was a shortened course with tighter turns and higher jumps, intended to break the tie and determine the winner.

the crowd began cheering when jungkook and yesung reappeared, standing and waiting for instructions. you found jungkook adorable in his outfit, a dark green show jacket and breeches that emphasized his leg muscles. you had to catch yourself from staring too hard at his thighs because it seemed like yoongi caught you, waving a hand in front of your face with a snicker. you only glared at him.

it was mayor kim with the microphone, explaining the rules to the crowd. “and, to decide the order for performance, we have conducted a random draw. as a result, we will see. . .choi yesung go first!” he proclaimed, eliciting another round of cheers from the crowd.

from where you stood, you noticed jungkook naturally relax his shoulders. for that, you also breathed out a sigh of relief. he stepped away to where leo was, making way for yesung to complete his round.

when it was time to begin, everyone rose to their feet. from what you saw and heard of yesung, he was also a well-seasoned equestrian. he wasn’t as decorated as jungkook, but he had the advantage of winning the last show-jumping competition in the spring. you didn’t realize jungkook was out for vengeance, but he was indeed looking to reclaim his name.

every fraction of a second mattered in the jump-off round and so, your eyes were glued. the pressure was on and you watched yesung charge ahead. he decided to take some risky turns, likely to shave off time. the first one was executed perfectly and you nearly jumped at the second, challenging turn. it was not calculated well, as it resulted in a rail down at the penultimate fence.

“oh shit!” one of the boys yelped, watching the unfortunate accident.

yeung finished the course at a respectable, but flawed time. it was shame, since his speed and ability could have easily secured a victory. he knew it, too, judging by the disappointment in his eyes. you almost felt bad for him, if it wasn’t jungkook off to the side and gearing up for his turn.

now, it was jiwon screaming as loud as she could. “YOU CAN DO IT!” she screeched, cheering for her brother and you joined in.

already mounted on leo, jungkook looked up, right at your section. he gave a small wave and you all went wild - even mrs. oh, who brought her own sign to cheer him on. you guys weren’t the only ones, though, as it seemed that jungkook was a favourite amongst fans.

“jeon jungkook, jeon jungkook, jeon jungkook,” chanted the boys and you weren’t sure who started it, but you also began chanting, too.

he readied himself and at the sound of the horn, blasted off. the tensions were thicker, with the stakes at hand and the pressure on a seasoned competitor looking to re-establish himself. you couldn’t imagine the weight of the crowd under the beating of the july sun, considering the heat made you already down your water bottle by the first hour of the competition and were in half the clothing jungkook was in. between you and jiwon was a shared usb handheld fan, as the two of you silently took turns holding it - eyes too glued to the show and shouting jungkook’s name.

he was fast and sharp, yet every movement of his was so well thought out. at full force was a risky approach, but was so far bearing perfect results. you felt your heartbeat getting louder and louder, making your head pound with adrenaline. the last few seconds, the world became quiet and all you could focus on was jungkook. then, the eruption snapped you back into reality.

“LET’S GOOO!”

if someone was somehow not on their feet watching the final round of the show, they certainly were now, as jungkook zoomed to the end with no flaws and an incredible time. even you had to blink a few times, trying to see the time recorded clearly and realize your eyes were not deceiving you.

“there’s no way that’s not a record!” you heard jimin exclaim and you didn’t doubt him.

there was a hushed murmur over the crowd, as mayor kim stepped to the podium once more. tapping the microphone a few times, you and the rest of the crowd winced at the feedback that came with it. then, mayor kim spoke.

“ladies and gentlemen. . .” he begun, loud and clear.

jungkook was still catching his breath to the side, having yet to even take off his helmet. all eyes were peeled on mayor kim, as he took an extra pause for dramatics. if you weren’t also about to jump right out from your skin, you’d roll your eyes.

“. . we have a winner AND a record setting time. jeon jungkook, young man, please join me on this stage.”

no longer holding your breath, you roared along with your friends and the earth practically rumbled. jungkook’s smile was as bright as the day, as he whooped in response and raised his fist in the air. you were filled with nothing but joy.

before he stepped up onto the stage, jungkook displayed his integrity by walking towards yesung and enthusiastically shake the other man’s hand. yesung didn’t look too upset, more bewildered at the quality of performance that his opponent put on. they exchanged words, smiles reaching their eyes.

“that’s my brother!” screamed jiwon, as if no one knew the obvious.

jungkook then took mayor kim’s hand in one and attempted to balance his new, golden trophy with the other arm. in a split second, your friends, jiwon, and the oh family began filing out of the stands and you could hear hoseok yelling for you to follow. you widened your eyes, shuffling out of your seat as quickly as possible.

of course, jiwon was the fastest and made it to the lawn first. she squealed, as jungkook embraced her in a hug and spun her around. the cheers didn’t falter and only grew when namjoon and taehyung momentarily put jungkook on their shoulders.

you trailed behind everyone, nearly stumbling on your way down. you couldn’t see much, tiptoeing as far as you could. the chatter was still loud, but then the small crowd parted as you heard jungkook call out. it was your name. he was calling for you to come to the front.

“oooooh,” someone said, but you ignored it.

there was no doubt in your mind that your cheeks were a cherry red, but you refused to look anyone in the eye - even jungkook. you and your friends gathered around the podium with jungkook, as the event photographer asked you to move closer for a picture. everyone made way for you, as jungkook gestured for you to be the one on his right side, while jiwon and mrs. oh were on his left.

“congratulations,” you finally said, straining for your voice to be heard over the cheers. you still did not meet his eyes, finding yourself in a kind of shyness that was unknown to your normally headstrong personality.

that was something that came natural to jungkook, having an innate ability to bring out parts of you that you didn’t even know existed. before moving back to amber valley, you walked around with your chin up, thinking that you knew everything you needed to know.

now, at 25 years old, you knew harvesting soybeans and playing cards at the local pub with your new friends. you knew the smell of the ocean in the sweltering summer and you knew riding horses in sunflower fields at sundown. looking at jungkook, you knew what it was like to be slowly, but surely, swept off your feet. the realization creeped up on you, a sneaky little thing.

namjoon was the one holding onto leo, as your group huddled together for the picture. you instinctively hugged into jungkook’s touch, holding them in front of the camera.

jungkook spoke, right into your ear. “i’m so glad i was able to have this moment with you.”

that made you finally look up at his eyes and in that moment, a flash went off. this is when you also snapped out of your daze and despite his stare unwavering, you turned back to the photographer.

“oh, maybe we should take another -” you started, knowing that neither you or jungkook were looking in the camera, but he waved you off.

“no, no! this picture came out perfect,” the photographer winked at you and asked for everyone to disperse, before you could argue. something told you that you were going to see a picture of you and jungkook gazing into each other’s eyes on the front cover of the local newspaper.

he proceeded to take a few more solo pictures of jungkook with leo, followed by some shots with the mayor. jungkook was supposed to be kept busy, but he continued sneaking glances your way.

it was mrs. oh who gently tapped your shoulder. “now’s the time, honey. come to the store quick before he notices.”

beside her, sangwoo rolled his eyes. “he’s going to notice, he hasn’t taken his eyes off of her.”

regardless, you scrambled to follow behind mrs. oh. you weaved through the crowd, who all wanted to take a look at their champion in disbelief of the amazing time jungkook scored. the show began relatively early in the day, too, so the streets were only now becoming more and more full with the midsummer festival in full swing.

the roads were blocked off for pedestrian access only, as the fair was one of the busiest times of the year for amber valley. today was a day that drew crowds from outside of town, as the festival was an adored regional celebration and served as a tourist destination. you wouldn’t be surprised if you were told that the midsummer festival attracted the highest visitors of any other day in the year for the town.

carnival games, market booths and amusement rides were already set up since the morning and it was already getting tiresome to navigate through the festival goers. but, of course, you were trailing behind the force that was mrs. oh, who made way with ease with her commanding voice.

“time to get to work,” she sighed, pulling out a key from her pocket upon reaching the general store.

you said, “it’s a shame you can’t enjoy the festivities, mrs. oh.”

“oh, i don’t mind. i’ve lived in this town all my life, i’ve been here, there and everywhere when it comes to the fair,” she mused, unlocking the front door for the two of you. “business is business, the traffic the store will get is more important.”

a cool blanket enveloped your skin once you stepped in and you were never more grateful for the invention of air conditioning in your life. she was right, though, as you noticed some people nearby the store and already eyeing it.

“most businesses are closed today, but not us!” mrs. oh smiled, as she turned the sign by the window from ‘closed’ to ‘open.’

this is how you knew how much jungkook truly meant to mrs. oh. “jungkook is real lucky for you to open late just to watch him,” you said, examining the front counter and spotting a pair of jungkook’s work gloves.

“the store opens late every time he has a competition. sangwoo adores him and that young man and jiwon are family to us,” mrs. oh mused, seemingly lost in thought, before blinking back into the moment. “ah, don’t mind me. i almost forgot why you’re here, sweetie - the flowers are in the back room!”

you thanked mrs. oh, following the direction that she pointed towards. jimin called you corny for getting jungkook flowers for your first official date, but you thought it was fitting, given the competition. it was even better with the results of the show and you could only hope that jungkook liked the ones you picked out. you figured that men deserve to get a nice bouquet of flowers at least once, too.

the bundle of fresh sunflowers were actually your favourites, but that wasn’t important. you grabbed them from the backroom fridge, wrapped in cellophane and yellow paper. this was when you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket and your eyes widened, hoping it wasn’t jungkook just yet.

unfortunately, your hopes disappeared, but the text still put a smile on your face - just because it was him at the end of the day.

are you at the store? i saw you and mrs. oh lol i can be there in a few minutes.

you replied yes and came out to wait. the store already had its first customers within a few minutes of opening and mrs. oh was ringing them out. she met your eyes and winked, mouthing some encouraging words to you.

with the same smile on your lips, you mouthed a ‘thank you’ to her.

although you would have loved to loiter inside the store for the air conditioning, you were already bashful enough from everyone watching you and jungkook at the show and you would have rather met jungkook away from mrs. oh’s nosiness. she was lovely, but she appeared to be one of your and jungkook’s biggest fans and you didn’t want to act awkward, knowing that you were being watched.

the bouquet was hidden behind your back, as you patiently waited outdoors. you didn’t know what to expect out of your day, but the longer you waited for jungkook, you grew more and more nervous. it was odd, knowing that the anxiety pooling at the bottom of your stomach was because of your childhood best friend.

the thoughts were promptly swept away when you caught sight of jungkook approaching you. he changed clothes from his riding gear, sans his favourite dirty boots that remained on his feet, and was now wearing a plain white t-shirt and denim jeans. you always had to take a moment to admire the definition of his muscles and his sharp gaze that left you breathless, but you were distracted this time by the bundle of golden flowers in his grasp.

jungkook looked a little bit concerned at your expression, as you were stifling a laugh. you almost felt bad, but the sight was too funny for you to ignore.

“hey - uh, what?” he furrowed his eyebrows at you.

you revealed the identical bouquet from behind your laugh and he, too, looked dumbfounded. the wrapping and greenery differed from one another, but it was clear that the two of you picked your flowers from the same field by your houses. it was the same field the two of you rode on the past summer and played in as kids.

“congratulations again for first place,” was all you could manage to say, offering your flowers towards him.

jungkook finally broke out into a chuckle, shaking his head. “thank you. congratulations, for uh. . “

“for what? being jeon jungkook’s date to the fair?” you chided, as you took his flowers in your hands.

“shut up. am i not original or something?” jungkook asked. “like, come on, we got each other the same thing. i’m already failing at this date thing, aren’t i?” he joked.

you rolled your eyes and flicked his arms. “it’s been, like, five seconds.”

“ow!”

“we’re not just on a date today, jungkook. we’re on a mission to win some prizes,” you declared.

jungkook tilted his head slightly with a smile growing. “oh, are we?” he paused. “then, am i allowed to hold your hand during this mission?”

the idea startled you, but you didn’t shy away. nodding without a word, this was the signal for jungkook to pick up your free hand and interlock his fingers with yours. somehow, it wasn’t a moment that sent ringing sensations in your ears nor was it one in slow motion. it was familiar, almost, and felt. . . right. it felt natural, like it was coming home after a long day.

you leaned in to whisper in his ear, “and thank you for the flowers. you remembered my favourite.” you weren’t even sure how he knew, but you knew that jungkook would only give you a gift with a well-thought out meaning behind them.

this time, it was jungkook’s cheeks who reddened slightly. he didn’t say anything else, only squeezing your hand and leading the way.

***

jungkook was tired. you were tired of telling him to suck it up. you had gone two summers in a row without winning a single prize and you were determined to walk away from the fair with at least one thing. albeit, at this point, you ran out of tickets to play games and you knew jungkook had extra, since he received some from his parents, but your grandfather also gave him some. he was your last hope, as you begged him to use the last of his tickets to get you something.

“hoseok hyung told me these games are rigged. can’t we just go do bumper cars, bunny?” jungkook groaned, as the two of you walked away empty handed from balloon darts.

you pouted. “no. i just want one of those big charmander stuffies, i know you can win them!”

“why don’t you play the games?”

“because i’m bad at them, how do you think i lost all of my tickets so quickly?” you responded, crossing your arms over your chest.

jungkook grumbled more complaints under his breath, while you forcibly dragged him towards the ring toss booth.

“hey kids! giving the ‘ol ring toss a try?” beamed the booth attendant, who was the same every year.

you weren’t entirely sure what his name was, but you and jungkook collectively agreed on calling him “carnival man” and he recognized the two of you each time the festival was in town. though you were about four feet of fury at the time, you had quiet rage against carnival man. you were convinced he cheated you out of getting the xl sized penguin prize last year and you wanted revenge.

“kookie will do it!” you exclaimed, smugly pushing your best friend forward.

“yeah, whatever, kookie will do it,” jungkook rolled his eyes and handed over a single ticket to carnival man.

carnival man happily took the ticket from jungkook. “it’s nice to see you kids again. you’re always together, huh?”

“unfortunately,” the two of you said in unison, only for you two to shoot each other identical daggers.

at this, carnival man guffawed in amusement and gave jungkook his sets of rings.

here, jungkook did not win. in fact, he didn’t win you a single thing that summer and you didn’t speak to him for the following day because of it. only a day, though, since carnival man was right - the two of you were always together. you eventually gave in after the first day of silent treatment and showed up to jungkook’s house with your horse, marshmallow, and convinced him to join you by the sunflower fields. he had scoffed, called you stupid, and then without missing a beat, came outside to accompany you.

***

“kookie! and. . .bunny? is that you?”

carnival man was a lot older than you remembered, but you weren’t sure if it was just the tricks of time playing a game on you. it seemed like everything was so much more youthful and bright in your childhood memories. however, the brightness in carnival man’s smile didn’t falter and it only widened upon laying eyes on you and jungkook. then, his eyes trailed over to your clasped hands together and it widened even more.

“you remember me?” you gaped, as carnival man took your hand and shook it vigorously.

“of course i do! well, i remember the two of you, specifically,” he exclaimed. “i see jungkook here, but i’ll always remember how you two kids came around together every summer! you’re all grown up now!”

although lines of age creased his smile and streaks of grey contrasted against his black hair, seeing carnival man again made you feel like you were ten years old all over again. the fair seemed so much more larger than life and this moment was one of those moments that reminded you of why you loved summer so much.

jungkook smiled, “it’s nice to see you, mr. lee.” he appeared to be a bit shy, as the older man was fixated on the sight of you two holding hands.

it occurred to you that carnival man was never his real name and meeting him as mr. lee felt like a call to the reality in which you were now a grown up. you realized that jungkook continued to see mr. lee at the fair over the years without you and didn’t feel the same rush of nostalgia.

the only reason why jungkook couldn’t also shake mr. lee’s hand was the abundance of prizes nestled into his arms. the two of you left your sunflower bouquets at the general store - luckily, it was now busy with tourists wanting water bottles or sunscreen and the two of you avoided any gushing or questioning from mrs. oh - and thank god you did because you did not expect to be carrying around so many things. a mini teddy bear, a sheet of temporary tattoos, a t-shirt, some gift cards, and a larger kuromi plush toy that was double the size of your head.

thankfully, jungkook held onto everything without complaint and remarked that you had no business carrying anything so long as he was there. the funny part was that you two had barely visited all of the games and the only reason why you’d won so many prizes was because you two were competing at each one.

“and you know i refuse to lose,” jungkook said at the first game, which was a basketball shootout.

with the same competitive spirit, the two of you both did very well at each game and walked away with a prize from almost every one. it also probably helped that you were now adults with disposable income and could pay to participate in as many games as you wanted. jungkook had announced that he was ready to make up for his past failrures, never forgetting the summer that resulted in your silent treatment because of his inability to win you a prize. you didn't think that meant struggling to carry around your prizes within the first hour.

now, mr. lee began setting up the ring toss for the two of you. “so, you moved back to amber valley, young lady?”

“yes, sir. i’m running the family farm now,” you replied.

“congratulations, bunny. that’s some hard, honest work, my best wishes to you!” mr. lee said. “you know, i always thought you two had quite a special bond, even at a young age.”

jungkook avoided eye contact. “mr. lee, you’re kind,” he chuckled, nervously.

“i mean it! it fills my heart with joy to see you two here after all these years.” there was twinkle in mr. lee’s eyes as he spoke. “for some people, their universes are stitched together with unseen threads that will always lead them back to where they belong.”

it was your turn to squeeze jungkook’s hand and neither of you said anything more, only exchanging a look.

***

jungkook wouldn’t stop pouting and you weren’t sure what to do about it. it really wasn’t your fault, you couldn’t help the fact that, like most young girls, you got your growth spurt earlier than your male friend. you were a few inches taller than jungkook at this point and he was deflated to learn that you were tall enough for the rollercoaster, while he had yet to measure up.

“sorry kid. maybe next year,” the ride attendant gave jungkook a small smile.

you were disappointed, as well, as you and jungkook had waited nearly thirty minutes in line. all for jungkook to not be able to ride the coaster. you turned to him, who sighed.

he said, “it’s okay, bunny. you can go on without me.”

a part of you did want to get on the ride, especially after waiting for quite some time, but you didn’t hesitate to shake your head.

“no. i won’t go on without you,” you stressed, to which jungkook looked at you in shock.

he shook his head. “no, it’s okay. just go, we waited for so long.”

“i said i’m not going,” you said, standing your ground.

instead, you walked off from the front of the line, ignoring jungkook calling your name until he ran up to catch up to you.

“hey! what are you doing?”

“i said i’d go with you. if you’re not there, there’s no point,” you shrugged, as if it was no big deal. “we’ll go next time. hey, wanna go see carnival man and do ring toss?”

you didn’t wait for an answer, as you made a beeline for the ring toss booth. jungkook jogged up to you and you noticed that he was trying to hide the smile on his face.

***

“jungkook. . .this is the kid’s roller coaster.”

everyone else in the line was about half jungkook’s size, unless they were one of the parents giving the two of you a dirty look for getting on the kid’s coaster. there was no explicit rule that adults couldn’t ride the rollercoaster, but it was a very popular ride and jungkook had the privilege of cutting the line, as the two of you were given a free “fast lane” pass by mayor kim for being local small business owners. the fast lane pass was costly and the majority of fairgoers opted to wait in the long lines.

jungkook didn’t seem to care too much, though. “yeah, so what? you picked the giant swing and said the next ride was my choice.”

“you’re pissing off the kids,” you whispered in a lower voice, as the attendant let out the last party from the rollercoaster. you guys were up next. “i thought you would want to do the drop tower or something.”

“you promised me that we could go on the ride the last time we were here. remember, when i was too short?” he casually whistled.

“jungkook, that was, like, seventeen years ago.”

he continued, “and i wrote it for our summer bucket list! you may have never seen it, but i was dying to go on this ride.”

and that was how you found yourself crammed into a kid-sized rollercoaster at the very front with jungkook. with impeccable timing, it looked as though some of the boys were passing by. seokjin caught your eye first and tapped taehyung’s shoulder beside him, who then got namjoon’s attention.

“oh my god,” you groaned, watching the three of them wave wildly at you and jungkook.

on the other hand, jungkook found this hilarious. he waved back and you covered your blushing face with your hands. you were already embarrassed from the cut eye given to you by the parents in line, now this.

“have fun, lovebirds!” called namjoon, as seokjin and taehyung proceeded to take several pictures of you and jungkook from afar.

***

“my tooth hurts!” you whined, shoving your cotton candy into jungkook’s hands.

at seven years old, it was on the later side for you to lose your first tooth. you’d been wiggling it for weeks, but cried when jimin offered to rip it out of your mouth for you. this happened just a few moments ago, before jungkook yelled at him to go back to his mommy.

jungkook didn’t seem bothered and was actually pleased to double fist two sticks of cotton candy. “thanks bunny!” he ignored your complaints and happily continued snacking away.

this was the first year that you and jungkook were permitted to roam around without adult supervision - kind of. as long as you were in vicinity of ten year old hoseok, who was sitting on a bench and playing on his gameboy advance, the two of you were free to play together.

“this isn’t fair, i’m not allowed to eat anything,” you huffed. your grandfather warned you that any sort of sweet will just hurt and you were better off enjoying other parts of the festival.

“don’t tell my parents, they said i could only have one cotton candy,” jungkook said, as he observed your sad appearance. “why do you look like that?”

“like what?”

“you look sad. it’s ugly on you,” jungkook mindlessly commented and you flicked his arm. “ow!”

you glared at him. “don’t call me ugly!”

“i said looking sad is ugly on you. so, don’t be sad,” jungkook replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

when your expression didn’t change, jungkook sighed and looked over to where hoseok was sitting. the older boy’s eyes were glued to his screen and was now joined by jimin, who was cheering him on in whatever game he was playing. then, jungkook turned back to you.

“what?” you asked.

“wanna go watch the magician show?” he asked, grinning. “so you can stop being sad.”

your eyes widened, as you took your turn to look over your shoulder at hoseok. “your mom said to stay nearby! what if we get in trouble?”

“i dare you to come with me to the magician show,” jungkook countered, knowing that was the secret word that made you do just about anything. you hated the idea of losing dares to jungkook and had yet to do so.

you knew you were going to get an earful if you left hoseok’s sight, who was supposed to be watching over you. then, you remembered that, earlier that day, hoseok refused to let you play a level of mega man on his gameboy and decided you didn’t care if you got him in trouble.

“okay! let’s go!” your features suddenly brightened and you let jungkook take you by the wrist - not the hand because, ew, it was jungkook - towards the other end of the fairgrounds.

the cotton candy had already been consumed and jungkook tossed the paper sticks into the nearest trash can, as the two of you quietly giggled about your mischievous sneak-away.

***

unlike jungkook, jiwon had no trouble tracking down her sibling at any given moment, even with the large crowds gathered for the festival. she also didn’t seem to care that her brother was in the middle of a date, as you were the one to first notice that she was dragging sangwoo by the wrist in your direction.

“is something wrong, jiwon?” jungkook asked and there was a tinge of annoyance in his voice at the appearance of the younger girl. the two of you were engaged in somewhat of a flirtatious conversation and jiwon’s premise immediately killed jungook’s mood.

“hi y/n!” she greeted and then she turned to jungkook wearing a sickly sweet smile. “oppa, may i have ten bucks?”

“i gave you twenty bucks this morning,” he raised an eyebrow at her.

meanwhile, sangwoo was in awe of the amount of prizes in jungkook’s arms. “woah! you guys won all of those?” at this point, there was an addition of a frisbee and a stuffed octopus.

“i won most of them,” both you and jungkook said at the same time, resulting in a shared glare.

jiwon cleared her throat. “so. can i have ten bucks, please? we wanna get cotton candy!”

“what did you do with the first twenty bucks?”

“we went on the teacup ride! oh, and we got rice cakes and funnel cake and actual cake,” jiwon explained and went a little too fast, so you didn’t doubt that the kids did, in fact, consume all that sugar.

it seemed like jungkook also didn’t doubt it and while you knew he wanted to scold her, you were taken aback to find him letting go of your hand to reach for his wallet in his back pocket. he sighed and, as he was still carrying all of your prizes, merely held it out for jiwon to fish a twenty out of.

“only because today is the festival,” he warned and muttered a second part under his breath, “and only so you can leave us alone.”

you also had the same feeling that jiwon and sangwoo were not going anywhere without their ultimate goal, especially since the former seemed to have the same persistence that her brother had.

“thank you, i love you!” jiwon declared, handing the wallet back to her brother and planting an exaggerated kiss on his cheek. “thank you, thank you! we’ll leave you alone now!”

the pair scurried off together, as sangwoo also yelled out his thanks. they ran through the crowd together, giggling amongst themselves. when jungkook took your hand again, you were still lost in thought, watching the two purchase cotton candy from far away. sangwoo handed the first stick to jiwon and the two talked with one another, cheerily enjoying their treat.

“don’t get me wrong, making sure jiwon is eating healthy is important to me, but today’s the fair. it’s special for her and sangwoo like it was for us, might as well let her off the hook for today.” he noticed you watching them and followed your stare. “they’re cute, aren’t they?”

“they are. how long have they been that close?”

“since they were born, basically. they’re always with each other,” jungkook shook his head.

“do you think jiwon has a little crush?” you wondered aloud, as jiwon shoved sangwoo playfully for whatever joke he might have had made.

jungkook asked, “did you?”

he was referring to the two of you as kids, as it was clear that your shared wistful stares at jiwon and sangwoo were a product of looking back at your own childhoods. two best friends that stood by each other’s sides at all times and grew up together. you had to admit, you saw your and jungkook’s reflections when you looked at jiwon and sangwoo.

upon hearing the question, you rolled your eyes. “you wish, jeon jungkook.”

but, you weren’t entirely sure. adults joked that you and jungkook would grow up to marry each other, just from watching you two play chess or ride horses together. there was a magnetic force that naturally stuck the two of you together, from day one. you cared deeply for jungkook before you could have a comprehensive understanding of what it was like to have love for someone beyond your family.

“pretty sure i had a crush on you. that’s probably why i was devastated when you stopped coming to the valley,” he casually mentioned, but you turned to him in surprise.

“were you really?”

“yeah. you were my closest friend.”

“i’m sorry,” you said. “you were mine, too. i just thought you would forget about me, i guess. then, i don’t know - “

jungkook cut in, “- we grew up. that’s what happened, it’s okay.”

that was the reality of life. it was sad to look back on, but it was overshadowed by the incredible forces that brought you and jungkook back together. never, in a million years, would you have ever imagined standing in the middle of the amber valley midsummer festival with jeon jungkook ever again.

“ever since i came back, you became my closest friend again. even with all the weird stuff going on between us,” you admitted the last part with the roll of your eyes.

although you were just teasing, jungkook’s expression turned serious. “hey, i am sorry about that. but, honestly. . . “ he sighed. “like you said, we became close friends again. and so fast, too.”

“it got confusing, didn’t it?” you asked, looking at your feet. “when things seemed like it could be more, i kept trying to convince myself that, you know, this is just how we are. we’re friends, this is how we act and nothing more.”

“you read my mind. you really did,” jungkook said, looking at you with a surprised expression. “i think i always knew, though. from the moment i saw you again.”

you thought back to the first time you met jungkook again. you remembered how soft his hands were and how he managed to make you smile on one of the worst days of your life. that was just jungkook, though, and his way of bringing sunlight into your life, even when it was raining.

“i. . .i think i knew, too. but, i thought you just saw me as the little girl who used to play with you in your backyard.”

he shook his head. “i thought you had so much on your plate. and, well, i’ll admit, i’ve had trouble even considering a love life since becoming jiwon’s guardian. she’s always come first in my life before anything else.”

“i don’t blame you, i can’t imagine what the past few years have been like for you,” you said. “but, you were a tad bit stupid. let’s be real.”

jungkook snorted. “yeah, i know i was stupid. believe me, the last thing i wanted to do was fully push you away. my childhood best friend came back into my life and i had to confront that she was now a strong, beautiful and incredibly intelligent woman that i had feelings for.”

this was the first time that things were finally being said aloud and it was as if a thousand pounds was being lifted off of your shoulders. you were light, you were flying.

“but,” he continued. “i also had to confront that you were still my closest friend, the person who i can turn to when things go wrong. you were my friend who i laughed with and shared things with and i couldn’t lose that. i have the guys, but no one compares to how in sync we are.”

“i know what you mean. we complement each other in this crazy way. . .” you trailed off.

mr. lee spoke about destinies stitched together and things meant to be. holding jungkook’s hand felt meant to be in a way that it was just natural. so did laughing with him and making him dinner and letting him do things for you, simply because he didn’t want you to do it by yourself.

jungkook said, “do you see why i was afraid of this?” he gestured to the two of you holding hands. “if i fuck this up with you, i’ll lose both my girlfriend and my best friend. if i fuck this up with you, i’ll have let you down during a time where you just moved to a whole new town for a job with all these expectations that everyone has for you.”

“you don’t have to be afraid of those things,” you murmured, gently placing your free hand on his arm.

“i’m not. not anymore, when the what ifs and the idea of missing out on something good with you is even scarier.”

suddenly, you took a look around your surroundings. it obviously wasn’t planned, but the two of you were having quite the intimate conversation just across from the face painting booth and the craft stalls. you tugged jungkook into a random corner, where there was a lone chair in between walls.

“can you put the prizes down for a second?” you asked.

jungkook was confused. “huh?”

“can you put the prizes down so i can kiss you?” you commanded, giving him a pointed look.

then, he chuckled and without hesitation, placed your various trinkets down on the chair. you rolled your eyes with a smile and jungkook hooked a thumb on one of the belt loops of your jean shorts, using it to pull you closer. he leaned in, placing his other hand at the small of your back.

jungkook, too, smiled into the kiss and like everything else, it felt natural. it felt like home. you melted into his arms as you always do, softly kissing back.

although you could have stood there forever with him, lost in his touch, you had to pull away. “you scared of that?” you raised an eyebrow.

“shut up man,” jungkook said, but stole a quick peck from you before he let you go from his embrace.

you thought you would never stand in the middle of the amber valley midsummer festival with jeon jungkook ever again. the world worked in mysterious ways and you were proven wrong. more so, you weren’t just standing with jungkook. you were a woman standing in the middle of the town that built your hopes and dreams. you were standing in middle of the fair that never shook off its magic, even years later. you were standing with the man who made you realize that home wasn’t just a place.

***

it was safe to say that you freaked out when jungkook showed you what he stole from his dad’s tool box. you were so scared that jungkook had to beg you to not snitch on him and even threatened that he would tell your grandfather that you’d been making him help you complete your chores in the chicken coop.

“it’s just a pocket knife, bunny.”

“it’s sharp! you could hurt yourself!” you hissed, stepping a few feet away from him like he had mad cow disease.

jungkook sighed and ignored you, walking over to where your sitting spot was. this year, the midsummer festival fell on what was easily the hottest day of the summer. the heat wave was unlike any other you’d experienced so far and you were surprised that the fair was still going on. the two of you had completed just under ten minutes at the bouncy castle before you insisted you needed a break.

the two of you had found a random tree to sit under, as you split an ice cream float to beat the heat. this is when jungkook said he had “something cool” to show you.

you had no choice but to leave your grumbles under your breath, finding your place beside jungkook since the ice cream float was in his hand. “you’re hogging it all,” you complained and he handed it over to you.

“are you done freaking out?” he asked.

“what are you even gonna do with that?”

it was as if jungkook was waiting for you to ask the question. “this.” he clicked it open and turned behind him, to the lower part of the tree of which you were leaning on.

your eyes were wide, as jungkook began scratching away at the wood. the first letter you could make out was “J” and you nervously looked around your surroundings. it didn’t seem like anyone was paying attention to the two of you, occupied with the festivities or trying to not pass out from the sun.

jungkook completed a “K” and moved on to slowly carving out your initials. “so we remember today!”

“it’s gonna be there forever,” you sputtered. “my grandpa says that trees last forever if no one cuts them down. . .so, since our names are there, we’ll be best friends forever!”

a toothy grin stretched across jungkook’s face. “yeah! we are. we’re going to be best friends forever.”

***

considering jungkook’s victory earlier in the day, several people stopped to congratulate him throughout the afternoon. he was hard to miss and he was also just a generally well-known person around town.

that was precisely why you were scared shitless that someone was going to recognize either of you committing vandalism.

“you’re covering me, right?”

“i am, but can you hurry up?” you demanded through gritted teeth, trying to look over your shoulder to see if anyone was looking your way without looking suspicious.

from the unassuming eye, it looked like you and jungkook were merely engaged in conversation. . .but facing the tree. you were sat cross-legged, turned to the tree as if it was another person talking amongst yourselves. instead, you were trying to cover jungkook carving into the wood.

you shook your head. “i can’t believe our names are still on this.”

“we did say it would be forever,” jungkook reminded you and if he wasn’t holding a pocket knife in his hands, you would’ve shoved him over.

you always remembered that your and jungkook’s names lived on the bark of a random tree in town. there was no way you could forget the scolding the two of you received for defacing town property.

“what if they notice? we’re adults now, we could get charged for this,” you said.

“then we say it was always like this,” jungkook concluded and caught your eye. “what? what are they gonna do, tell my mom and your grandpa?”

at that, you did let out a laugh. “i can’t imagine what they’re thinking, watching us from up there.”

then, jungkook clicked his pocket knife close and scooted over on the grass, as he’d been blocking his work from your view the entire time. he made the initials deeper into the wood, ensuring that it wasn’t going anywhere, and added a heart around the letters. once depicting you and jungkook as friends “4ever,” it was now framed by the heart and shifted its meaning altogether.

“they likely made a bet about us getting together and the winner is probably rejoicing,” you suspected and jungkook nodded in agreement, snickering under his breath.

your hands grazed over the carved design and you thought back to the moment where the two of you first sat under the same tree.

jungkook said, “pretty good first date, huh? scammed some booths out of their prizes, pissed off the entirety of amber valley elementary and we vandalized town property.” he looked pleased with himself leaning against the tree and wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

with your legs stretched out and the crime completed, you were able to relax underneath the protection of the leafy branches. “mhm, definitely a first date that i’ll never forget,” you laughed, placing your head on jungkook’s chest.

the two of you bought an ice cream float for old times sake and jungkook brought it closer to you, so that you wouldn’t have to move. it seemed to be a constant - jungkook doing things for you just because. just because he didn’t want you to do it yourself. just because he wanted to do something for you.

“i have arms, you know,” you joked, but took a sip regardless.

he responded, unfazed, “i know.”

the smile the two of you shared confirmed your thoughts. whether you were kids and jungkook walked you home every time just because or you were adults and jungkook wanted to spend his whole day fixing your windows just because. that was just how he was always going to be for you.

“well, do you know that a first date implies that there’s going to be a second date?” you decided to be bold for once, as all your anxieties evaporated when you accepted that jungkook was both your best friend and a person you held feelings for - a coexistence that you realized was possible and even exciting.

jungkook scoffed. “second date? did you not see the tree, you’re stuck with me forever.” his joke resulted in you playfully hitting his chest.

“did you just curse me with some witchcraft on this tree or something?”

“rock hard, huh?” he asked, ignoring your accusation and was referring to you hitting his chest. “trust me, i know.” jungkook flexed his arm muscles and although he was kidding around, it was quite impressive and distracting.

“i’m totally objectifying you right now, by the way. i can admit that now, right?” you smirked. “‘cause i’ve been checking you out for months.”

at that, jungkook genuinely appeared to be a bit sheepish, his ears first turning pink like they always do. “drink your float, man,” he insisted, using it as a tool to shut you up. you nearly choked from holding in your laugh as you took another sip, which made him laugh, too.

you sat up slightly, but still mostly laying your body weight on your jungkook, only to crane your neck to see the letters carved onto the tree. the carving waited for you two for years to return. a part of you couldn’t believe that it was jungkook you were stealing kisses and blushing from.

“but, for real,” jungkook spoke, now also looking at his handy work. “a second date is nothing when the tree says you’re stuck with me. that means you’re my girl.”

he held your chin with his free hand so that you could look into his eyes as he declared the last part. jungkook’s gaze was warm and you now understood what it was like to feel butterflies in your stomach. it was always one of those things that you read about in books and couldn’t comprehend. you understood the moon and stars and you understood economics and science. this moment with jungkook was a pair of fresh eyes that opened your heart to a feeling of completeness that felt like it had always been there.

“wow, you’re not even going to ask me? this is the worst confession ever,” you managed to tease, your smile failing to fight the happiness spreading throughout your body.

jungkook retorted, “i saw it in your eyes, you were about to ask me first. i had to beat you to the punch, you know i hate letting you win things.”

“i think i won either way here,” you beamed, placing your head back onto jungkook’s chest. you could feel his heart beating loudly, but he didn’t seem to mind and planted a kiss on your forehead. jungkook wanted you to know how much this moment meant to him, too.

your first summer back in amber valley was nothing you expected. your grandfather’s last wishes for you were for you to discover nature and what it meant to make real connections with people. it was a head first journey that you embarked on, all by yourself. yet, months later, you found yourself surrounded by a family you found yourself and the beauty of a town that you thought was forever going to only live in your memories and dreams. you found belonging.

jungkook taught you that home wasn’t a place. home was the sunday market with friends. home was doing things you would have never imagined yourself doing, like salsa dancing and paddle boarding. home lived in watching your hard work bloom into something greater than yourself, with each harvest and each morning you spent feeding your animals. home was even a person - a horse-riding man who was unselfish at his core and loved breakfast for dinner.

you dreaded the end of the night, as it seemed like the midsummer festival was a blissful magic that you never wanted to end. you could have lived in this moment forever.

“goodnight, bunny. i’ll see you tomorrow,” jungkook said, as the two of you stood at the doorstep of the farmhouse. he leaned down and met you in a soft kiss, where he murmured a thank you against your lips for the perfect day you shared.

there, you realized that the magic didn’t have to end. there was always a tomorrow to look forward to when everyday was a new day to fall more and more in love with your best friend. the magic in the air didn’t even have to end when the last of the summer heat turned into the first chill of autumn, amidst the shifting hues of the leaves. the magic kept you warm throughout the winter and blossomed in the springtime.

for the first time in your life, you no longer had to walk away from jungkook come the rain of september. when you were younger, it seemed like the magic of amber valley only existed in the warmer months. summer was a special place in your heart and the memories of your youth, but home was something that stood by you through the changing seasons.

𝐓𝐀𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. @shellyyy177 @myseokjinji @teddybeartaetae @jalexad @sstrongstyle @wobblewobble822 @seokout @taiwan0618 @firelcrds @xwniazx

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #kpop fanfic #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts au #bts series #jungkook imagine #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenario #jungkook x you #jungkook x oc #bts scenario #bts fluff #*** / the farmhouse.

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yeoandmoon · 9 months ago

Text

cowboy take me away ( mingi x reader )

as the child of a long forgotten freedom fighter, and a long time informant of kim hongjoong, you've been entangled in the bloody history & politics of strickland for as long as you could remember. when an invitation shows up at your door in the form of a familiar gunman, you find yourself grappling with the idea of gaining freedom & love in your harsh world or sticking in the comfort of your shadows.

smut + angst, ateezverse, outlaw!mingi & librarian!reader, afab reader, right person wrong lifetime, mentions of war & corruption, mingi is covered in blood, breeding kink, unprotected sex, dirty talk, fingering, thigh riding, wc is 4.7k

NOTE: takes place almost directly after the events of the bouncy music video ( a whole comeback and a half late, but i think it's what cowboy mingi would want )! this fic was written across 2 provinces, 1 state, 2 continents and 3 countries its a world traveller <3 title is from cowboy take me away by the chicks. if you like this please consider reblogging or leaving a comment / an ask :)

BANG! BANG! BANG!

You hear the banging before anything else. You’re quick to get up, nearly tossing your book to the floor in your haste.

The clock on the stove reads 21:37, and you know exactly who awaits you on the other side of the front door. The news reports of the bombings of The Prestige Academy had been live for nearly three hours, and it was only a matter of time before they came knocking.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Another bang rings out through your apartment, shaking the wooden door and the small ornaments that hung around it - good luck charms, your mother had once told you.

It was silly of you to keep them up. You knew it was silly to still believe the bedtime stories of a broken down revolutionary, and the childhood she wanted so badly for you.

Yet, here they remain - framing your door in an arch of wooden dolls, and nearly forgotten symbols.

Everything you’d witnessed with The Eight; all the history that could’ve been and should have been of your world laid out right in front of you by a scary little man and his little hourglass wasn’t enough for you to pull them down. You told yourself it’d be disrespecting your mother’s memory by doing that.

Hongjoong and his boys made you believe in the stories of your mother, and the world she wanted.

It’s while staring at the smallest doll in the arch that you take another deep breath, and finally steal a glance at the shadows that are casted under the door. You can see the person shuffle in place, almost nervously.

You know who it is, and what they want from you.

You almost want to be upset by the uninvited visitor. You want to throw the door open, and scream at him; you want to tell him how he ruined your life. You want to tell him how you should’ve called the Guardians when you saw them walk into your library that day; how you regret letting them pull you into this world you watched tear your mother apart.

But - you’re not really upset. The thought of them makes your palms sweat, and your cheeks flush and you don’t want them to go. You want him to come inside and hold you; you want him to stay here, and despite your threats, you could never call the Guardians on him… on any of them.

You look back up at the small doll that smiles down at you, and try not to let visions of soft pink hair and gummy smiles invade your mind. You try to forget the feeling of rough hands against your skin, and his lips kissing your tummy. You want to push those to the back of your mind, and simply ignore the cowboy on the other side of your door.

BANG!

A final resounding bang rings out, and you finally grip the door handle before ripping the door open.

As if summoned by your inner complaining & contemplation, there is a man in a cowboy hat on the other side of your door. His hat sits low over his face, and a rifle hangs at his side; you could just see the blood splattered on his leathers and his cheek.

You try not to stare at the way the tan vest hugs his toned torso; or how the deep red blood speckles his neck and chest. Your knuckles turn white as they tighten on the doorframe.

Your lips kiss along his neck, while your hands are tight against his hips. You pull him closer to you and revel in the soft whimpers that fall from his swollen lips. His hands are warm, but you know he runs hot and you soak in the warmth.

“Y/N.” His deep voice breaks through the silence, as if slashing a knife through your daydream.

You give him a brief nod, “Mingi.”

There’s a smile growing on the outlaw’s face, “Were you hoping I would leave if you ignored me enough?” Mingi asks, gently pushing you to the side as he steps into your apartment.

You sigh before closing the door behind him, making sure the locks and deadbolts are tight before turning to him. You don’t answer, but your mind continues to linger on his comment and just how wrong it truly is.

The last thing you want is for him to leave - for him to leave you.

“Hongjoong called you.”

You nod, and your eyes flicker to the drawer where your small burner phone sits in the kitchen. There’s a coded voicemail from Kim Hongjoong in the inbox, and you had listened to it enough times that you could probably recite it for Mingi.

Hongjoong and his boys wanted you to join the revolution - officially. You had been content hiding in the background of it; feeding information to Hongjoong in cryptic messages & sneaky meetings, and then letting them take the credit, but Hongjoong wanted you at the forefront now.

There was a reason, of course. You knew why he wanted you, of all people.

“I’m not my mother, Mingi.” Your voice breaks as you finally look up at the man in front of you.

Mingi looks down at you. His short pink hair is messy under the cowboy hat, and his brows are furrowed in frustration. As you look back at him, all you can think of is the wanted posters plastered through the city center, and how you wish the artists could see the vision you see.

His voice is soft as he finally speaks, “You’ve gotten comfortable, Y/N.” Mingi moves the rifle from his shoulder and onto your kitchen counter, careful to place the barrel and silencer facing the wall.

“You’re comfortable surrounded by your books, and letting Hongjoong take all the credit for your work. You should’ve been there tonight.”

You lean back against the door, right under the arch of dolls as you contemplate Mingi’s words. He’s mirroring you - standing under the arch of your kitchen door, but your apartment is so small that you can just feel the warmth of his body against yours. A part of your mind thinks you’re imagining it, but you know if you were to reach your arm out, you could take the outlaw’s rough hand into your own.

You almost do, too. You begin to reach your hand out when Mingi moves to speak again, “She’d want you to be there, you know.”

His words slam into you like a ton of bricks. Your hand falls back against your side while Mingi’s statement immediately fills your eyes with tears, and the vision of the bloodied man in front of you begins to blur. You look down to hide your tears from him, but you still find yourself nodding in agreement. He’s right. He’s right, and it makes you so angry just how right he is.

“But I don’t want to be there,” You finally say, “It’s not the place for me. I’m not like her. I’m not like Joong. I want what they wanted… what they want, but I’m better off behind you.”

Mingi shuffles closer to you, and his hand moves to hold your wrist. You blink, and tears begin to fall down your cheeks when you feel his nimble fingers against your pulse point. His body gently pushes you back against the front door.

“Would it change anything if I told you: I want you to be there? I want you to be there, right next to us? Next to me?”

When you look up at him, you see his dark brown eyes have softened. His face is still shadowed by the cowboy hat, and you reach your free hand up to gently push the hat off, letting it hit the floor in a soft thud. The warm light of your apartment immediately illuminates Mingi’s harsh features, revealing a sad smile as he meets your teary eyes.

You push his hair out of his face before cupping his cheek, and you revel in the way he closes his eyes and leans into your touch.

“I’ve watched this world tear people apart, Min. I don’t want to watch it break you too.” You tell him, your thumb gently brushing against his cheek, “I don’t want it to break me.”

You felt selfish as the words left your lips. Maybe you were being selfish, but you cared about him too much. You care about him enough that it’s dangerous - for both of you. You both knew your time together was limited and scarce, and soon all the work you’ve both done would finally culminate with Hongjoong’s plans.

Yet, here you stand - wrapped in a bloodied cowboy’s arms, half naked and crying, unsure if this will be the last time you see each other.

“I’m not going to break, Y/N.” His hand maneuvers from your wrist, and onto your bare thigh, just brushing under the hem of the night shirt you have on, “You wouldn’t, either. We wouldn’t let you.”

You stay silent, but you wrap your arms around Mingi’s neck and pull him into a tight hug. Mingi immediately reacts, with his own arms moving to wrap around you and his head falling into your neck. You can feel his lips ghost against your neck while one of your hands moves through his hair, almost holding him in place against you.

There’s things you could say; things you want to say to him (don’t die. come back. i love you.), but you don’t say any of that. Those are foolish thoughts for your situation, and dreams neither of you can afford right now.

Instead, you gently push him away so you can see him, both your hands coming up to cup his cheeks, “Does Joong know you’re here?”

Mingi shakes his head, and you notice his own tears beginning to fall down his face. You keep your eyes on him as you nod, while one of your thumbs gently runs over his bottom lip.

“We don’t have much time then?” Your voice is hardly a whisper.

Mingi kisses your thumb before taking your hand in his, entwining your fingers and kissing your palm, “We’re leaving at midnight.” He finally says.

It takes a moment of contemplation before you surge forward in Mingi’s hold, leaning up to capture his lips in a harsh kiss. His arm around your waist tightens its grip before he kisses back, and you feel his other hand drop your own before beginning to move into your hair.

You pull away after a moment, leaning back against the door as you settle in Mingi’s arms. You look up at him - taking in the way his cheeks have blushed, and his pupils are nearly blown out. Your eyes glance over the now-smudged blood on his cheek and neck, and you have to think he’s doing it on purpose. He’d come to you after doing Hongjoong’s dirty work before, bloody & wrecked and he’d always laugh when he saw how wet your panties had become after seeing him like that.

“Take the jacket off, Mingi.” Your voice cuts through the silence you two had created.

There’s a small smile playing at your lips when Mingi jumps before nodding, unhooking his arm from around you to pull the heavy leather coat off. Your eyes follow it as he unceremoniously drops it on your foyer floor.

His hands move to his vest, and your eyes are quick to follow as he begins slowly unbuttoning the leather.

“Are you doing this on purpose?” You narrow your eyes at him.

Mingi’s cheeky smile and the way his eyes glance up at you confirms all you need to know. You fake a gasp as one of your hands reaches out to grasp his, and you tug him back closer to you.

“You’re a tease,” you tell him as you kiss him again.

He smiles into the kiss, while one of his hands moves to cradle your head and tilts you to gain easier access to your lips, “Am I?”

You begin to unbutton the remaining buttons on the vest, just as Mingi crowds you back against the door. He presses a kiss to your cheek, and you melt into the way he deepens the kiss while his thigh moves between your own, pressing up against your soaked core.

You groan at the feeling of his jeans against your clothed pussy, “Am I going to come here?”

Another cheeky smile flashes at you, “I am a tease, aren’t I?” He hums.

Mingi pushes you down against his thigh as he speaks, with his hands holding your hips. The drag of your clit along his thigh rendered you speechless and hot, and you let yourself fall back against the door in your bliss.

You’re standing on your toes as you rock against him when one of his arms hooks around your waist.

“Go on, baby.” He leans down to kiss your temple, “Use me to make yourself feel good.”

His other hand tugs at the hem of your night shirt, slowly inching it up to reveal your body to him. There’s a hunger in his eyes that makes you feel wanted and sticky, and you can’t help it when your hands move to grasp at the vest to steady yourself. Mingi’s free hand moves to your chest, his fingers gently begin thumbing at your nipple until it hardens.

You let out a sharp gasp at the feeling, relishing in the way his touch fuels the warmth that grows within you - it’s a warmth that truly only burns for the Gunman, and part of you worries it might never burn for anyone else.

Your hands move into Mingi’s hair when he leans down to take your nipple in his mouth, and the whimpers that come from the man as you tug brings another wave of arousal that goes straight to your core (and the sticky mess that you’re sure are ruining your panties and Mingi’s jeans). You can feel the bulge in his tight jeans each time you rock your hips; it matches the hunger you saw in his eyes as he kissed up your neck, letting your shirt fall back down as one of his hands moved to cup your pussy.

You reach out to palm the bulge in his jeans, and a sleepy grin graces your lips when Mingi lets out a beautiful sound. He groans your name, his free hand gripping your wrist while you push against him.

He pulls your hand away, “Don’t worry ‘bout me,” He tuts.

“You sound pretty.”

Mingi’s thumb pressed into your clit in reply, and the action brought a near scream out of you. Your hips stutter against his hand, and you grip his vest tighter as you begin to lose your balance. Mingi’s hand around your waist moves to pick you up, using the imbalance as an excuse to pull you closer to him.

“Mingi…” Your voice is strained and full of neediness.

He hums into your skin, nipping at your collarbone, “I know, Y/N.”

His thumb presses circles into your clit, and your thighs shake as you wrap your legs around Mingi. Your head falls onto his shoulder as your hips rock into his hand, urging him to move faster and harder.

You kiss him, messy and rough when he brushes his finger over your entrance, pushing you over the edge to your orgasm. You tremble against him, and he kisses away your cries and whimpers, holding you impossibly close in his arms.

Mingi’s thumb slows its movements as you ride out your climax. He presses a kiss to your hair, and you know he’s talking to you, but you can hardly hear him. You can hardly guess what he might even be saying against the quiet of your apartment and the blood rushing in your ears.

“We’re going to bed now, baby.” He whispers to you, kissing your cheek and finally moving away from under the arched doorway.

You laugh into his shoulder, “Are you going to fuck me?”

He doesn’t answer on the short walk to your bedroom, but you don’t need an answer. You know how tonight will go. You always know with Mingi.

Mingi softly drops you onto your bed, untangling your legs from around his waist before quickly beginning to undo his belt. You keep your eyes on him as you pull your soaked panties off, haphazardly kicking them to the floor while you watch Mingi undo his jeans, leaving them open as he turns his attention back to you.

He looks positively wrecked, and all he’s done is made you come. This causes an undeniable high to begin racing through your veins, and the high only grows when you feel Mingi’s fingers dancing along your inner thigh leading right up to your soaked core.

“‘Gonna open you up, baby,” Mingi grunts, while he gently pushes you back against the bed and shoves your legs open so he can comfortably kneel between them, “We gotta make sure I fit, yeah?”

You gasp at the combination of his words and the feeling of his thumb against your clit so soon, but when you glance up, he’s smiling down at you. Your fingers tightened in the sheets and you wanted to curse Mingi. You were so wet from your previous orgasm that you knew you could probably take him with minimal prep - it wasn’t anything you hadn’t done before.

But no; Mingi wanted to watch you writhe on the sheets as you took his fingers, nice and slow.

He gripped your thigh as he pushed two of his long fingers into you, and he chuckled when you threw your head back, a moan of his name escaping your lips.

“Min, please,” You bucked your hips up to meet the thrust of his fingers, “Just fuck me!”

Mingi kisses your knee in response, “We got some time,” He hums, but you could hear his voice waver as he adds another finger, and watches you grind yourself against them.

The short walk to your bedroom had hardly been enough time to recover from the orgasm you’d had against the door, and all you could do was soak up the increasing pleasure as you rode Mingi’s fingers. Although your bedroom was usually a quiet spot, it was soon overtaken by the sound of your soft cries and Mingi’s fingers thrusting into your weeping hole.

You let your head push back against the mattress as you whined in frustration and arousal. Your thighs were burning from Mingi holding them open to accommodate his large frame, and all you truly wanted to do was come on his cock.

Maybe you were made to ride his cock, a sneaky part of your arousal corrupted brain squeaked. Usually, you’d push those thoughts out of your mind but right now… You looked up at the man who sat over you. Mingi’s hair was a mess from you tugging on it earlier, with his vest hung open to expose his blood splattered chest and arms to you; leather string necklaces and chains hung from his neck, and it didn’t take long for you to pick out a pendant you had gifted him months earlier. His unbuttoned jeans stretched over his thick thighs, and hung low on his hips, exposing just enough skin that it made your mouth water.

Right now, you had no choice but to agree with the little voice that just maybe, you were made to ride Song Mingi’s cock.

You let out another whine at the revelation, bucking your hips into his hand as you reached for Mingi with a sweaty hand, “Min, I-I need you to fuck me now, please.”

Mingi takes your hand, using it as leverage to pull himself down and crush his lips into yours, “My baby needs my cock?”

His palm grinds against your clit, and the pressure is enough to turn any answer you might have for him into a broken moan. You kiss him harder, squeezing Mingi’s hand tightly in yours as you push your hips up to gain any kind of friction against him.

You wouldn’t even put it past yourself to begin grinding on his thigh wedged between your legs again - like some kind of bitch in heat.

The coil in your lower half begins to burn again, timing itself with the harsh thrusts of Mingi’s fingers and the way he kisses you, hard & unforgiving. When you move out of the kiss to place soft kisses and bites along his jaw, a broken whine escapes Mingi and it nearly topples you hard over the edge.

You buck your hips hard into his hand and kiss his neck, “I’m g-going to come,” You tell Mingi, who swears before kissing your cheek.

Hardly a second flashes before you, then the hand between your thighs is ripped away, along with it is the pleasure that you so desperately crave.

“Mingi!” You whine, trying to reach for him as he pulls his hand from your cunt, dodging your grabby hands and begins to move off of your bed, already tearing the vest off his body.

“‘think you should be good now,” Mingi gives you a teasing smile, beginning to push his jeans and boxers the rest of the way down his thighs.

He keeps his gaze on you as he begins to crawl back onto the bed, and you can see the fire that’s present in his eyes. He moves to settle between your thighs, though you can’t help but let your vision wander down his body.

A gruff laugh comes from Mingi as you feel one of his warm hands rest on your thigh. His other hand reaches for you, gently resting on your cheek as he moves over you, “I’m gonna fuck you now.”

You want to laugh at his bluntness, but he kisses you so hard that you can hardly react. His hand moves from your thigh to sit heavy on your hip as he pushes into you, and all you can do is whimper into the kiss.

Despite the prep (and your inner insistence that you could take him unprepared), Mingi is big, and you could hardly remember the last time you felt so full. It’s a euphoric feeling as he thrusts into you, holding you down against your mattress and pushing any non Song Mingi related thoughts out of your mind.

Your hands move as if they have a mind of their own; one of them moves to tangle back in Mingi’s hair, and Mingi groans before pressing a kiss to your neck.

“Min, it feels so good.” The hand on your hip squeezes, pressing you harder into the mattress.

He smiles against your skin, and presses a kiss to your throat, “I’m not sure how long I’m going to last,” His voice is weak, and laced with wanton pleasure.

Mingi had been restraining himself all night - that much you knew. You had felt the change in his energy the moment he propped you up on his thigh in your living room, but he still took his time. He took his time teasing you, and drinking in everything you could give him, but you knew wanted more. Mingi wanted every last drop he could get from you, and you wanted him to have it.

You nod at his words, and try to pull Mingi closer to you. The incoming familiar waves of pleasure were already tugging at your strings, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before you would find yourself over the edge again.

You’d like to think it was the pleasure that spoke the next sentence that fell from your lips; or, maybe even the Mingi corrupted part of your brain, but you knew that you meant the following stuttered request with every ounce of your being.

“I wan’ you to come in me.”

Mingi’s hips stutter and he swears, “If I knock you up, you’d have to come with me.” He gives a hard thrust, as if proving a point, and seems to revel in the way it makes you gasp and clench around him, “Then, I might just knock you up again - for good measure.”

You can hardly contain the broken moan that falls from your lips, “Mingi… fuck, Joong would kill us.” You grip his arm, your nails digging into the flesh as he thrusts harder into your heat. You’d never admit (especially not to Hongjoong), but the idea Mingi proposed erupted a fire within you, and it burnt from head to toe.

A low growl escapes from his lips, as he presses another kiss into your sweaty skin, “Nah, Hongjoong would kill me. He could never hurt you, baby.”

He continues his kisses along your neck, and you feel the hand on your hip slowly move over your soft tummy before you feel his fingers graze over your clit again. He presses down on the sensitive nub as you mewl, pushing your hips up to meet his thrusts. The new angle presses his cock deeper into you, and you can feel the tendrils of euphoria begin to wrack through your body with every movement of Mingi’s hips and nimble fingers.

In that moment, you’re not sure how anyone will ever make you feel how Mingi does; how anyone will fuck you like this, or just simply look at you the way the tall gunman does.

Mingi’s hips stutter again as he gently nudges your cheek with his nose, “Y/N…”

You grip his arms harder; hard enough that you’re sure it’ll leave bruises for Hongjoong and the others to find in the morning, but for now you just nod, “Mingi, come in me.” You repeat the demand.

Mingi presses a kiss on your collarbone as he moans, a breath of your name leaving his lips before he comes. The feeling of his seed spilling into you, and the warm hands on your body is enough to set off your own undoing, pushing you hard over the cliff.

Stars take over your vision, and your back arches as you ride out your orgasm against Mingi, trying to pull him closer into your orbit. You vaguely feel his hand take yours, and you begin to slowly recover while he presses soft kisses against your wrist and palm. He’s sweaty above you, and you can see the flush that overtakes his cheeks while he comes down from his own climax.

“Do you have to leave now?” You manage to croak out, scared to look at the clock next to your bed.

Mingi glances at the clock, and a frown crosses his face - just for a moment. He shakes his head though, “No, not yet.”

His voice is soft, and you know he’s lying to you. He’s still holding your hand as he moves to lie next to you on your bed. The bed is small enough that he crowds you against the wall, but you two had done this enough times that you expect it; in fact, you almost welcome the crowding that comes from having Song Mingi in your bed.

You’d take anything to spend more time with him, but for now you settle with the soft kisses he’s placing on your hand.

“You know what to say if they come looking for us?”

You nod.

“I’m sorry,” Guilt racks his voice, and you’re not sure what he’s sorry for. Maybe he’s saying it for Hongjoong, who pulled you back into this, or maybe he’s sorry for leaving.

Maybe he’s sorry for loving you, when neither of you could afford to be loved.

You don’t want an answer though, and instead you pull him back into your orbit and settle for slotting your lips against his one last time.

—

When you wake alone in the morning, you can’t help but notice the small doll in the arch around your door is gone - only the blank wallpaper behind it remains.

As your hand moves to touch the mouth-shaped bruise on your throat, you somehow find comfort in the broken arch of charms.

#ateez imagines #ateez smut #ateez x reader #song mingi smut #ateez angst #song mingi angst #ateez scenarios #b.

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