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kaisacobra · 10 months ago

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Calypso's Curse - Tara Carpenter

Summary: Tara was used to having bad things happen to her all the time. She was used to see people leave her life as if she meant nothing, but she never thought you would be one of those people, especially if she was the one who caused it.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, mentions of violence, angst

Word Count: 5.1k

Second part of Second Best

Tara had gotten used to waking up with the sunlight bothering her eyes and having a strong headache caused by the hangover. Like any other Saturday, she got up slowly and stretched with a grimace, proceeding to go through the rest of her morning routine.

Everything seemed to be as usual until she stepped out of the room and into the kitchen. There she felt the unusual heavy mood in her apartment, normally filled with life and multiple voices chatting animatedly. Something had happened the night before. Something was wrong.

Sam had her back turned, cooking something in a pot that smelled very good. Sitting at the table in front of the stove, their roommate Quinn was scrolling through her phone with no expression until she noticed Tara standing right in front of her. With a playful smile, the redhead lifted her head to face the girl.

"Good morning, roomie. Did you have fun yesterday? I heard it was a blast."

Tara noticed when her sister's back tensed upon hearing about her presence, but she still didn't take her eyes off the stove to even offer a greeting. Flashes from the previous night appeared behind the younger Carpenter's eyes, and she remembered some things, especially the part where Sam broke into the house and tased a guy.

If anyone should be annoyed, it should be me. She thought with irritation as she crossed her arms. Deciding to ignore Sam's apparent bad mood, Tara turned her gaze back to Quinn, who still had a look of amusement on her face, as if she knew something Tara didn't.

"It was great! Until someone ruined my fun." Tara replied with sarcasm in her voice, making a point to increase the volume of her speech so that Sam could hear it well.

Perhaps it was a bit unfair to be so rude to someone who only wanted to protect her, but Tara was fed up with feeling like she was in a prison while attending college in a city of endless possibilities. The girl didn't want to be stuck dwelling on the past, and what better way to keep her mind occupied than drinking and dancing with strangers until 5 in the morning?

Besides, she wasn't alone. She knew that y/n would never let anything bad happen to her. Tara was safe.

"Oh, I think you had more than enough fun." The older Carpenter finally turned around, carrying a plate of omelets and a judgmental tone. She placed the plate on the table in front of Tara, and the girl felt some of her anger dissolve with her sister's gesture. "You don't remember anything that happened?"

From the corner of her eye, the younger girl could see Quinn looking back and forth between the two sisters as if witnessing a tennis match. Tara sighed and finally sat at the table, picking up a fork to start her breakfast. "I remember you ruining the vibe by attacking some random guy."

"There's even a video!" Quinn added with a laugh, placing her phone on the glass surface of the table and showing the screen to the two girls. The video was an endless loop of the exact moment when Sam used the taser on the guy's groin, and he fell flat on the ground. The redhead lifted her head, expecting to see smiles on the faces of the two sisters like hers, but upon seeing Sam's stern expression, she quickly added, "But he deserved it, Tara. He was a jerk."

"No, no." The older Carpenter shook her head negatively, crossing her arms and leaning against the counter behind her, her face displaying a mix of irritation and sarcasm. "Apparently, Tara's idea of fun is to be harassed by a disgusting man. I'm so sorry for ruining your incredible plans to become a victim of some idiot."

The younger one huffed with irritation and aggressively stabbed a piece of the omelet with her fork. Deep down, she was grateful for what Sam had done, even though it might become gossip of the week at her college. But Tara was too proud to admit it. So, instead of thanking her sister, she rolled her eyes and started chewing on her breakfast. "Nothing serious was going to happen, okay? Y/n was there; you know she would never let me do something like that."

The already awkward atmosphere in the room seemed to chill even more. Sam straightened her back further, and her jaw clenched as she stared at her own feet. Quinn, notoriously known for not taking anything seriously, raised her eyebrows and looked at Tara like a deer caught in headlights. Something was definitely wrong.

"What?" The girl asked, trying to swallow the food in her mouth, pretending that her anxiety didn't weigh on her throat like a bowling ball.

"Tara, you were awful to y/n yesterday. Seriously, she left the party crying because you said some outrageous things." Sam sighed and ran her hand over her forehead as if she were exhausted. Her tone wasn't angry, but it was worse because it was the calm voice of someone so disappointed that they had given up. "Why do you do this? You know she loves you, so why do you hurt her like this?"

Tara's stomach twisted into a knot upon hearing what she had put you through last night. It was true that she wasn't the best friend, but she would never wish harm on you, especially if she were the one at fault.

"Are you sure about that? Are you sure you don't enjoy breaking her heart into pieces every time, and she brings you the shards, hoping you'll glue them back together?"

"Shut up." Tara silenced her intrusive thoughts and looked at Sam as if nothing were wrong with her. "We're friends. We argue sometimes, but it's normal. I'll talk to her today, and everything will be fine."

That statement sounded more like wishful thinking from Tara than anything else.

"I don't know, maybe you should call her to make sure," Quinn spoke again, this time looking at Tara with a kind of amusement. "Who knows, maybe she's tired of being your plaything?"

"Oh, because you know all about turning people into your playthings, don't you?" The younger Carpenter retorted angrily, grabbing her phone with a sudden need to prove the redhead wrong. She searched for your contact number and pressed the call button, muttering a curse at her roommate. "Fuck you, Quinn."

The call rang twice. The other two girls stared at Tara with curiosity as she held the phone close to her ear, silently pleading for you to answer soon so she could wipe that smug smile off Quinn's face.

"The number you called is currently unavailable."

Huh?

The girl looked at the screen with confusion on her face. That had never happened before. You always answered her calls, even the ones made at 4 in the morning. Could it be a signal problem?

She went to her text messages and started typing a message. It wouldn't be as instant as a call, but at least you would respond when you read it. Tara typed a simple message (are you up?) and pressed send, but...

The text was green. Why was it green?

"Oh... Maybe she blocked you, roomie." Quinn's voice made Tara jump a little. The girl was so stunned that she didn't even realize she had spoken aloud. She looked between Sam and Quinn, one with evident disappointment and the other with mild surprise.

"No! No, this..." Tara vehemently shook her head, gripping the edge of the table as if it were the only thing keeping her grounded. "...This has to be a mistake!"

"Tara, I told you that you went too far-"

"NO! Okay, just... just no!" The girl interrupted Sam with a shout. Her breathing was erratic, and she suddenly felt dizzy. You always promised her that you would be here, always came back, no matter what happened. "I'll call Mindy, okay? They must be together, and y/n will explain that her phone broke or something. Everything's still fine."

With trembling hands, Tara searched for Mindy's name in the contacts list and pressed call as soon as she found it. Her feet were tapping on the floor at a frenetic pace, and she had to restrain her own hands to avoid biting her nails and showing even more of her anxiety in front of Sam and Quinn.

Tara knew that sometimes she pushed you too far, but she only did it because it was necessary, right? She wasn't like her intrusive thoughts suggested, she didn't truly wish you harm, right? She couldn't have hurt you that much, she just... couldn't.

"Tara, why the fuck are you calling?" Mindy questioned as soon as the call was answered, not waiting for any greeting beforehand. Her voice overflowed with impatience, which wasn't uncommon for her personality, but Tara felt surprised by how hostile the tone sounded.

"Shh. Speak quieter; Y/n just went to sleep." A whisper belonging to Anika was heard not far from the microphone. Mindy apologized, lowering the volume of her voice, but Tara had already heard enough to feel her heart racing.

"What do you mean, she just went to sleep? It's 9 am!" She spoke with concern, standing up from the chair she was sitting in, letting her restless feet carry her back and forth. "Is she sick? Does she need me to bring some medicine?"

On the other side of the table, Sam frowned in concern at what she was hearing. "Y/n is sick? Does she need anything?"

Tara gestured for her sister to wait with her free hand as she tried to calm herself. She could barely remember the last time you were sick, but she vividly remembered going to your house and seeing you lying in bed, looking like you’d been hit by a truck, loopy with fever. She was so young at the time that she had been terrified, thinking that her curse would finally catch up with you, and she would lose you to some stupid illness.

She remembered helping your mom make soup and feeling like the happiest girl in the world when she saw you eating it with great effort despite your sore throat, just because she had made it.

The curse didn't catch up with you, and Tara felt useful for the first time in her life.

"She's not sick; she just took a while to sleep because she was too busy crying her eyes out yesterday." Mindy retorted venomously. "What the hell is your problem, Tara? You destroyed her!"

"I-I didn't mean to... It wasn’t my intention to..."

"Wasn’t your intention?" Mindy interrupted the girl's stammer with an aggressive whisper. "You've been an asshole to her for years, and you still want to tell me you had no intention?!"

"I'm sorry, okay? I don't know why..." Tara let the words come out of her mouth with effort, trying not to let the tears that threatened to fall escape. "I don't know why I'm like this; I just... Tell her I'm sorry."

Mindy scoffed mockingly. "Tell her yourself. And preferably, wait a week to do it because I don't think Y/n wants to see you anytime soon."

When the call ended, Tara could swear she heard her own heart crack. She looked at her hands, one still holding the phone, not knowing what to feel or what to do in the moment. Maybe in a few moments, everything would hit her like a tsunami. Anger, shame, panic, sadness, all directed at herself. But at that moment, she just felt nothing, as if a void had opened in her chest and gradually expanded, consuming her entire being.

Sam asked if you were sick again. Quinn wanted to know how you were feeling. Tara didn't answer any of the questions and ran as fast as she could to lock herself in her room.

It had been a week since Tara last saw you.

Your absence hit her like a train, but the girl was doing her best to respect your space since all this situation was her fault anyway. It was so strange not having you by her side, even as a silent presence, that she felt like an incomplete puzzle.

At least she knew you were okay, and that was enough to calm some of her nerves. Of course, psychologically, you weren't in the best place, but Mindy had assured Tara (after much insistence from the girl) that you were eating, sleeping well, and attending classes just like always, which made the younger Carpenter feel relieved for not ruining even more of your life.

The group of friends seemed to be under the custody of divorced parents. One day, Tara would meet Mindy and Anika for lunch, and they would talk civilly, even though the disapproval of the twin about her actions was evident. The next day, she would have lunch with Chad and Ethan, who tried to lighten the mood with silly jokes and sought Tara's opinion on "guy stuff."

She knew this rotation scheme was also happening with you, and Tara couldn't help but wonder how you were dealing with it. Did you talk about her when she wasn't around? Or maybe you were trying to erase any trace of Tara from your own mind?

Either way, in your absence, Tara had plenty of time to sink into her own pit of guilt, which gave her time to analyze her own actions. She didn't know how things had escalated to this point, but she knew exactly how they had started.

You were both 13, nearing the end of summer, and about to embark on the frightening world of high school. Tara remembers every detail of that day perfectly because it might have been the best day of her life. She recalls the two of you lying on her bed, the bedroom door closed to keep the cool air from the air conditioner from escaping into the hallway. Her mom wasn't home, as usual, but Tara couldn't remember the excuse this time.

Tara remembers seeing you laugh at some scene from Child's Play playing on TV while finishing your watermelon popsicle. She noticed that the sweet treat seemed to make your lips redder and more hydrated, and a question about their taste seemed to pound in her brain like a drum. She shook her head to shake that off, feeling her own face warm.

"What nonsense! Can't you just, like, kick that doll hard?" You were lying face down, but turned your head to flash a smile at Tara. She could barely comprehend your words, finding it more interesting to notice how your legs were stretched upward in the most adorable position and how your eyes seemed to sparkle with amusement. You were clearly happy, and Tara was happy about that.

"It's the power of the script! I don't think you can defeat a possessed doll with just a kick." Tara answered your question, shrugging and looking at her own hands, where the remnants of a strawberry popsicle were. Anything to avoid looking at you and feeling whatever was happening in her chest.

A moment of silence settled for a few seconds, and Tara thought you had returned to watching the movie until she heard your voice again. "Was it good?"

She raised her head in confusion and looked at you with a frown, which was met with a thoughtful look from your side. "What do you mean?"

"The popsicle. I wanted to taste it, but I know strawberry is your favorite, and there was only one." You pouted, and, God, how Tara felt something inside her sway. Her gaze fixated on your lips for a few seconds, and all her thoughts turned into mush.

"You can taste it on my lips if you want."

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

The girl closed her eyes and grimaced, regretting the words as soon as they left her mouth. Damn her intrusive thoughts. "I-I was joking, sorry." She spoke next, trying not to make the situation even more awkward.

Still with her eyes closed, she felt the warm touch of your hand on her arm, and one side of the bed sank a bit closer than before. "No! It's fine. You know, it's not such a bad idea..."

"What?" Tara widened her eyes, unable to believe that she had actually heard that come out of your throat. She could see you clearly now, sitting cross-legged with both your thighs almost touching.

"I mean... All our friends have kissed someone." You started to argue, gesturing with your hands as you always did. "Chad has already kissed someone, Mindy even kissed a girl! I don't want to go to high school and be teased for being a bad kisser! At least this way, we both would have some experience!"

Tara felt her own head short-circuit. She couldn't even interpret what she was feeling with your suggestion, with sweaty palms, a rapidly beating heart, and a dry throat. Maybe she was just too scared by the idea of kissing someone.

Yeah. That makes sense.

"But we're friends. Wouldn't that be weird?"

"Of course not!" You countered with the energy of someone who clearly had thought about the answer to that question before. "It's even better! If we're bad, we can just tell each other and practice until we get it right!"

The young Carpenter's head was spinning just by thinking about kissing you not only once but multiple times. She couldn't stop staring at your lips, the question about their taste now seeming more urgent and necessary, like some kind of thirst.

Without trusting her own voice, let alone her self-control, Tara just nodded and hoped you understood the signal to take the initiative and get even closer.

Your mouth still carried the scent of the damn watermelon popsicle, but the fragrance of your subtle perfume also mixed and invaded Tara's senses with the force of a wave. She kept her hands close to her body, not knowing what to do with them as your faces got so close that your breaths collided.

When your lips finally met in the sweetest and gentlest kiss possible, Tara saw an explosion of colors behind her closed eyes, like fireworks. In fact, her whole body seemed to catch fire, and her chest could barely contain her heart. That was the first time Tara felt so... alive.

She understood everything now. She loved you. Fuck, she loved you.

Fuck. She loved you.

Tara immediately felt panic churn in her stomach, but she acted as if nothing had happened, just like you did. Inside, however, all her senses were on high alert for an imminent catastrophe.

She loved you, really loved you, and Tara knew you well enough to know after that kiss that you felt the same way about her. That was the problem. Tara wasn't made to be loved; she didn't deserve it.

You see, Tara felt like a myth she studied in one of her history classes, the myth of Calypso. A nymph who had been trapped on an island by the gods, and her eternal punishment was falling in love with people who could never be with her, causing a cycle of broken hearts and unrequited love for millennia.

Every time Tara loved too much and was reciprocated, the universe took someone away from her. It had happened with her father, with Sam, and more recently with her mother. She couldn't let it happen again; she couldn't lose you.

It was then, in desperation, that she stopped talking to you for a week, trying to make the feelings of at least one of you decrease until they completely vanished. But the days passed, and nothing changed. Tara still felt intense and conflicting emotions for you, and from the messages you sent, everything pointed to you feeling the same.

Avoiding you forever wouldn't work, and Tara missed you too much to simply cut you out of her life completely to avoid future suffering. She decided, then, that the best way to resolve this mess would be to get closer to other people, trying to force what she felt for you onto someone else.

She could lose anyone else, but not you.

A few weeks later, high school finally began, and she met Amber. The timing couldn't have been more perfect.

Tara Carpenter might have many flaws, but one thing she had always been good at was reading people and their intentions. The moment she met Amber, Tara could identify that the girl was exactly what she needed: interesting, attractive, but fundamentally distant.

She knew it hurt you. The distancing, the increasingly scarce conversations, her sudden interest in someone else even after you had shared the best kiss of your lives. Tara didn't want to hurt you, not really, but it was necessary if it meant she could keep you in her life.

And Amber... Amber was perfect for the role. Tara always knew that the girl would never love her more than she loved herself, knew that she was the type to disappear for a few days without explanation, but always came back with a sly smile and lame excuses. Tara loved her because she would never love her enough to leave, she could love without fear, even if the feeling wasn't reciprocated with the same strength.

At the end of the day, what mattered was that the relationship made Tara suppress what she felt for you, so nothing bad would happen to your friendship, right?

You loved her. She loved Amber. No more Calypso's curse.

After replaying all these memories in her mind, Tara felt a desperate urge to laugh. Wasn't it at least a little funny that she had concocted this entire plan and included a psychopathic killer in her group of friends (which consumed her every day as she blamed herself for last year's attacks) only to end up losing you anyway in the end?

She shouldn't be laughing, but Tara didn't know if she had the capacity to control what she felt anymore.

It was expected that the halls of Blackmore University would be empty during that afternoon period. Normally, other students were attending elective classes, participating in clubs, or training in some sport to enrich their academic resumes. Tara, contrary to that, roamed the halls like a lost soul without direction, as if walking aimlessly would solve any of her problems.

But maybe this walk had indeed been a good idea, as she managed to see the exact moment when you came out of the campus counselor's office. She sighed when she saw you, looking carefree and definitely less miserable than she was. You even smiled, and even though the smile wasn't for her, just that sight made her heart beat excitedly and a sense of peace ran through her body.

At least, that was until the girl who was receiving your smile appeared in Tara's view.

She was... something. She had a confident posture that made her seem even taller than she was and a carefree expression on her face that was almost charming. The girl seemed well-off, dressed in clothes that seemed to be designer and a sports duffel bag hanging from her shoulders. She was... pretty, maybe? Tara didn't know why, but she was reluctant to give any compliments to that stranger.

Maybe because Tara didn't know her, but you spoke to her with the ease of someone who had known her for a lifetime. You were laughing together and maintaining eye contact in a way that, for some reason, bothered Tara. So, she let her impulsiveness take over and marched toward you without the slightest plan.

"Y/n? Hi!" She announced her presence, and something in her chest hurt when she noted the change from your previously happy expression to a closed one. "I haven't seen you in a while! I thought it was because you were sad and needed some time, but you're clearly better than I am!"

She didn't know why she had said those words in such a passive-aggressive tone. Tara knew she was in the wrong, but still, watching your interaction with this stranger made her blood boil. However, she felt shame for her own reaction when you looked at her with a disappointed expression.

“Seriously, Tara? Is that all you have to say?” You spoke, crossing your arms as if you needed protection. Tara couldn't help but notice how the icy tone in your voice was new and cut through her like a razor.

The blue-eyed girl next to you seemed to straighten even more, positioning herself a little closer to you as some sort of bodyguard. Ridiculous, if you asked Tara. "Is there a problem here?"

"And who are you?" The younger Carpenter asked, trying to control her own voice not to make you even more annoyed. The new girl didn't seem to care about the hostile atmosphere and flashed a confident smile, looking down at Tara in a way that she didn't know if it was intentional or not.

"I'm Kate. Kate Bishop. Maybe you've never seen me if you're the same age as y/n here." Kate made a point to touch your shoulder when mentioning you, and Tara felt like a tsunami of hatred was forming in her stomach. "I'm a junior, so we probably don't have the same classes."

"Speaking of classes..." The taller girl turned completely to you, as if Tara wasn't even present. "I have to go now, but I'll see you later, y/n?"

Tara watched begrudgingly as your face formed a small smile when addressing Kate. "Sure. See you later, Bishop."

You exchanged a hug that, again, in Tara's opinion, was a bit longer than it should have been. She watched as the so-called Kate Bishop walked away down the corridor, adjusting the sports bag on her shoulder and striding like a damn show-off model.

"If she's a junior and you're a freshman, how did you two meet?" Tara inquired, feeling protective of you. After all that had happened in the past, she thought she had a bit of a right to doubt people's intentions. That was the only reason she was so intrigued by your new companion, obviously.

You sighed tiredly, as if you already expected that kind of behavior from her. "We met in the counseling center line." You pointed to the counseling center door a few meters to your left. "I'm going to therapy sessions, you know? Not that you'll care."

Tara felt an immense guilt instantly. She could now see the dark bags under your eyes and a clear loss of the bright energy you normally carried with you. The girl wanted to cry and plead for forgiveness, but she knew that would only make you feel worse.

Maybe Tara, overall, would only make you feel worse.

"I'm sorry, okay? I know I said horrible things, and-"

"Apologies won't work now, Tara." You admitted, turning your gaze away. "It's not just about what you said; it's about how you've been acting for a long time. I shouldn't have to put up with this kind of thing."

"You're right, I know. I feel-"

"What? You feel sorry?" Tara was startled to hear your tone becoming more pained as you interrupted her. She had never heard anything like that come out of your mouth before, and she almost wished you were shouting in her face instead. "Tara, you can’t even give me an explanation for why you do this kind of thing to me? Do you find it amusing to make a fool out of me? Is it fun to hurt me and see me coming back to you like a fucking boomerang?"

"No! I just... I don't know why I do this." The shorter one confessed with a trembling voice. "I swear to you that I... You are one of the best people in my life, okay? And I know I don't do enough to deserve you, but I... I need you. I'll do anything, just... could you forgive me?"

She wasn't lying when she said she didn't know the reason for continuing to hurt you this way. She didn't know why it had been so easy to listen when Amber suggested that you might be Ghostface. God, she didn't even know why she kept bringing up Amber, even though she preferred to forget about everything Amber caused.

Perhaps Tara just felt the need to make you feel the same pain she felt inside, so that you would be intertwined even unconsciously.

"I don't know if I can, not now. I have to put myself first at least once in my life, Tara. I'm really sorry." Your eyes were still avoiding Carpenter's, avoiding her gaze like a plague. "But if what you say is true, and you don't know why you do this... Tara, you need help. Professional help. I can't be your therapist, let alone your punching bag."

The girl nodded slightly and bit her lower lip to keep from crying in front of you. With a remaining bit of willpower and a little courage, she lightly touched your hand, silently pleading for your attention. "If I do this... seek help, i mean. Will you forgive me? Please, I don't want to lose you because I'm an idiot."

You looked back at her, and Tara could almost see conflicting feelings swimming in your irises. Finally, something seemed to snap you out of a trance, and you gently squeezed Carpenter's hand, a small gesture of support. "I don't know, Tara. I hope so, but that's not up to me, you know."

When you took a step back, and your hands parted, Tara almost let out a sob from her throat, instantly missing the touch. You hesitated, as if you wanted to say something, but chose to shake your head and quickly wipe away a lone tear rolling down your cheek. "I hope you get better, Tara."

The girl watched helplessly as you walked away, clutching your own bag as if it would keep you grounded in reality. She hated herself for making you feel this way, hated herself for being a problem for everyone she loved.

Maybe there was never a curse on Tara. Maybe she was simply the curse in other people's lives.

She glanced at the door to her left and sighed resignedly. As immense as her pride was, and as much as she had avoided this moment until now, she had promised you that she would change, and she couldn't break another promise. She swallowed hard and let her legs guide her to the frosted glass door.

Tara read and reread the words on the door. Counseling Center. And with one final sigh, she entered.

#scream #scream vi #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter #tara carpenter imagine #scream 2022 #scream x reader #scream imagine

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woso-dreamzzz · 4 months ago

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Sick III

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Magda gets sick

"Momma," You say, hopping down the last step," Morsa's throwing up in the bathroom again."

Pernille looks up from the stove and sighs. "I thought I told you that you weren't meant to go looking for Morsa?"

You shrug. "I didn't go looking for her."

Pernille doesn't believe you in the slightest.

Magda had come down with some sickness, likely the flu, a few days ago. It had started off as just an inconvenience, a stuffy nose and a few headaches. Then came the throwing up and Magda being forced to lean over the toilet bowl for a few hours in the night when she was meant to be sleeping.

Pernille knew it was wishful thinking to hope that the sickness remained with Magda only but you were a bit of a nightmare when it came to getting sick so she wanted to limit the chance of you catching it as much as possible.

If only you understood that because since Magda's sudden illness, you seem to have gotten incredibly clingy towards her like you don't want to stray out of her sight for whatever reason.

Pernille purses her lips as she looks at you, stirring the soup in the pot as she ponders what to do next.

"Why don't you have tv time?" She asks, finally settling on something to keep you occupied.

You don't get a lot of tv time, at least not where you're in control of the tv. You've never really craved it when you could play with girl-swan and girl-moose or kick a football around the garden.

But still, you're a little kid and kids love tv.

"I think Scooby Doo is on."

You think for a moment before your face twists into something akin to annoyance. "I don't like German Scooby Doo," You say," Can I watch Ben 10 instead?"

"Yeah, we can do that."

Pernille sets you up with an episode of Ben 10 in German and you settle on the sofa to watch it. With you now occupied, she sneaks up with a bowl of chicken soup just as Magda makes her way back to bed.

"You look...better."

"Don't lie." It's nice to see that Magda's humour is still there. "Is this for me?"

"Chicken soup." Pernille hands the bowl over. "You should probably wait for it to start cooling down."

"I'll be fine," Magda says," It's not like I can taste it so the heat might be the only enjoyable thing about it."

"How are you feeling? Do you need more medicine?"

"Can't take any yet. Hasn't been four hours but I'll be fine. I spoke to Linda. She said the throwing up only lasts a day. I'll be alright by tomorrow."

"Still," Pernille says," Eat your soup and drink lots of water. We're meant to be setting a good example to Princesse."

The corners of Magda's mouth quirks up a little. "Where is she? You know, I'd feel a lot better if she's here?"

Pernille rolls her eyes, scoffing. "Oh, I see. When I'm sick, I can't see her so she doesn't get infected but when you're sick, you can see her all you want? How is that fair?"

Her tone is teasing and Magda flashes a wolfish grin.

"Swedes don't infect Swedes. It's a rule."

"Well, it's great that she's Danish too, huh? No Princesse time for you until-"

"Hey, Princesse. What have you got there?"

Pernille whips her head around to see you standing by the door, clutching the little first aid kit that's usually hidden in the bathroom cabinet.

"I thought you were watching Ben 10?" She says as you come in, clambering up onto the bed and sitting on Magda's outstretched legs.

"Got bored," You reply, forcing the zip open and rummaging through it," I'm gonna make Morsa better though."

"She's sick, Princesse," Pernille says," Are you sure? You can get sick too."

You give Pernille the biggest judgemental look you can manage. "I know, Momma. I'm not silly. But I'm still going to make Morsa better."

In all honesty, Pernille is a little intrigued about how you're going to make Magda feel better with the first aid kit so she doesn't push anymore for you to leave the room.

"Does your head hurt?"

"Yes."

You bring out one of the bandages, winding it around Magda's head and tucking the end into itself.

"There you go!" You say," Now your head won't hurt. Does your throat hurt too?"

Magda nods.

You whip out one of the big plasters that's meant for big cuts and grazes on the knee and place it over Magda's mouth, making sure it's completely secure.

"You need to stop talking," You tell her sternly," Because that makes your throat hurt." You turn to Pernille. "Momma, I fixed her!"

Pernille has to force down her laughter at the bewildered expression on Magda's face.

"I can see that," Pernille says," We should leave Morsa alone now so she can recover. You did a good job."

You nod. "I know." You blow Magda a kiss. "I can't kiss you because then I'll get sick," You tell her," So have air kisses!"

You blow more kisses at Magda and shuffle off the bed, taking Pernille's hand.

"Can we finish watching Ben 10, Momma? It's a really good episode!"

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso #the big adventures universe

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hanafubukki · 5 months ago

Text

You are 500 years old.

500.

In all your centuries of living, you never expected to be summoned for this.

You stared, flabbergasted.

A man- no, fae stood in front of you with two…kids by his side?

Since when did a fae need a demon’s help? You can feel the headache coming as the one before you smiled widely.

“I need you to look after my boys. I need to go to this PTA meeting that’s mandatory and I have no one to look after them!”

…what?

Before you can even open your mouth to ask more questions, he disappeared through the door.

“….is he always like this?”

The two in front of you nodded.

Silver, the youngest of the two, is a human of five years. He’s a sweetheart. Pure and bright, just like his soul.

Usually demons like you would crave for such purity, but you had long ago abandoned that temptation.

Silver was currently practicing his letters under the other’s tutelage.

Malleus, who you realized was also a fae like the one who summoned you, was quiet and protective.

He had an aura that spoke of power even though he tried to hide it.

Currently, you were making them lunch, simple sandwiches and a salad.

“Food is ready.”

You weren’t expecting the two to suddenly appear in front of you.

Were they that hungry? Should you make more?

You ignored the slight magic in the air, probably testing if the food was safe. You understood the need for precaution. You are a demon after all.

“Delicious!”

“You’re right, silver hair. This is good.”

You couldn’t help the swell of pride. Maybe for dinner you can try making something a bit fancier.

By the time the boys were asleep, and the door opened to show the one who summoned you, it was well past 10pm.

What PTA meeting took this long?

You had tea on the table with some leftover dinner on a plate.

Malleus and Silver made sure to drill into you to not let their caretaker, Lilia, cook. The haunting look in their eyes sent a shiver down your spine.

“How were the boys?” Lilia sat down in the seat in front of you, grinning at the food before him.

“They were wonderful.”

“That’s my boys!”

You watch as Lilia dug into his food after warming it up with magic, such easy displays of magic conveying how powerful he truly is.

“What’s your price?”

“No need. The two were amazing. I really didn’t do much but look after and play with them.”

Lilia hummed as he sipped from his cup.

“That puts me in a tough spot. I have a lot of PTA meetings you know. I would like your services again~”

You are a demon.

A demon.

Since when did you have a sign on your head that said you were a babysitter?

…but it’s not like you had anything better occupying your time in recent times, and with the way the kids were excited about your food…

“You can just call me again. I’ll gladly look after them. I don’t have much to do nowadays anyways.”

“How strange.”

You tensed in your chair.

When did he-

Lilia leaned over you, his arms bracing on the arm handles on either side of you, effectively trapping you.

“Like the fae, demons aren’t ones to work for free.”

Fingers trailed up the back of your neck, “No matter, I’m sure we can figure something out.”

The gleam in magenta eyes and a peek of fangs hinted at the trouble you will soon be in.

What did you get yourself into?

This writing prompt has been stuck in my head and, @chibi-celesti, Celesti’s words haves spurred me on; I have come to feed us both 💞💚🫶

#lilia vanrouge #twst x reader #twst x you #twisted wonderland x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge x you #malleus draconia #twst silver #twst lilia #twst lilia vanrouge x reader #twst lilia vanrouge

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blondbrat · 11 months ago

Text

𝐃𝐀𝐘 1 : 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 ‘23

𐙚 Rafe Camerons!breeding kink

warnings ; smut, breeding kink, f!reader

Rafe who doesn’t love family ‘get togethers’ with a grumpy attitude and noticeable frown :(( maybe their more enjoyable with other families? families who weren’t obsessed with the latter of success and violence? rafe included. it just seemed pointless to him. unnecessary opportunities to argue and manipulate. that’s the only aspects of family he had ever known. until he had met you of course !!

here he was. letting u squeeze your delicate hand over his. fingers enlaced as you two walked down the stairs, into the buzzing yearly Christmas party.

he didn’t want you being there :(( you were like a ray of sunshine — his bubbly, sweet princess. your beaming grin on ur beautiful face was just so pure to him. he felt so overprotective !! letting his angel in the same house same room even as his psycho family just felt so wrong !!

but you convinced him everything would be all right !! he didn’t believe ur sweet words until he found himself leaning against the kitchen counter, listening to petty drama and chatter — he truly hated these kinds of things !! a pounding headache forming in rafes blond head :( his family were truly the humbugs of christmas in his eyes.

he could have sworn your pretty hand was curled in his. until he realized they weren’t, where did u go?? where the fucks his pretty girl? he couldn’t help but panic a bit, this was his crazy family after all !! his blue eyes darting around every room as he frantically looked for you. but rafe was just being protective as always, finally letting himself breathe when he found u upstairs, in the playroom he and Sarah used as kids. now all occupied with his darling little cousins, and you?

rafe was in awe. watching u play dollies with his little cousin darla <3 the brightest smile spread on ur face. simply playing with his lil cousins as ur eyes meet his, sapphire and laced in adoration. giving him a sweet grin. could you be any more angelic? any more beautiful? of course you were drawn to the adorable babies ((: taking not a single notice to his families tension — and letting ur bubbly mind find probably the only bright area of the party !!

u stood up, scurrying over to him as you smooched him a cheeky kiss. “m’ sorry, were you looking for me?”

“I sure was, baby.. your good with kids y’now” why was he smirking? oh !!

it isn’t long before he has you bent over his desk (!! his family still downstairs !!) thick thighs sprawled open as he pounds into ur puffy cunnty !! ur cock drunk lashes fluttering back as ur drooled over mouth let’s out pretty moans !! <3 his deep voice spurring praises like a prayer ‘fuck baby, so fucking’ good with kids’ ‘gonna look so pretty with a baby belly princess’ ‘cummin’ in ur pretty pussy like u fucking deserve’ hes a man of his word. ur gummy walls squeezing his cock as he slams agaisnt ur cervix. thick, warm ropes of cum spurring right into ur womb. how could u not cry out in ectasy? ‘need’ta be quiet’ he groaned. he couldn’t control himself !! u were so warm, so sweet — how could he not fill you with his creamy cum?!— “can’t think of a better gift baby, your gonna be the mother of my baby sweet thing” of course it doesn’t stop after one round !! u’d just look so beautiful with his blond lil baby !! ((:

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withleeknow · 11 months ago

Text

six minutes.

pairing: seungmin x reader genre/warnings: friends to ??, fluff; a couple of swear words here and there bc who am i if i don't swear, mentions of hurling but it doesn't actually happen, not really unedited lol word count: 0.8k note: HELLO FELLOW WIFEU (you know who you are), number 13 was "things you said at the kitchen table" lol. anywhomst people, my first seungmin piece!!

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation › masterlist › ko-fi

when blinding sunlight playfully slips through the curtains, you wake up with an ache inside your head, then instant confusion as you take in your surroundings.

this isn't your bedroom.

the clothes you're wearing aren't the ones you put on before you went out last night.

there's someone on the other side of the bedroom door, and the rummaging of cabinets, the clanging of pots and pans.

you sit up fully, clutching the duvet cover close to your chest, evidently disoriented. there's not much for you to go on - the room is clean, tidy, barely any decorations except for what seems to be a few baseball mementos displayed neatly on the credenza sitting opposite from the bed, surrounded by empty cream-colored walls.

a dumb, possibly-still-drunken thought pops up.

oh my god, i've been kidnapped.

you blink, feeling fatigue in every limb, slightly alarmed but not scared even though you probably should be. (you've been told that your survival instincts aren't very sharp.) the brain fog must also be a contributing factor, but even in spite of the thought of being kidnapped, you don't register any sense of imminent danger. just a growing perplexity because not everything has clicked into place yet.

your eyes notice a framed photo on the bedside table when the light catches on the glass. upon closer examination, you gasp sharply, because why the fuck is there a photo of your dog in this strange bedroom?!

oh wait.

okay.

thank fuck. you've been here before.

it's just kim seungmin's bedroom that you're in, and it's just kim seungmin's favorite baseball t-shirt that you're wearing.

after a moment of sitting by yourself in total dumbfounded silence, you venture out of the bedroom on unsteady legs - not even the good kind of wobbly legs that you wished you'd experienced as a result of a freaky night tangled up in the sheets - to find your friend in the kitchen with his back turned to you, hunched over something you can't see on the counter next to the sink.

you take a seat at the kitchen island, making sure to scrape the chair across the floor loudly to alert him of your presence. he turns around at the sound, a bit startled - cute - then throws a smile your way when he realizes who the intruder is.

"morning, sunshine," he chuckles upon seeing the disgruntled look on your face, courtesy of your stubborn headache. "sleep well?"

"i don't even remember what happened," you grumble, bypassing his question entirely. "why am i here? why didn't you take me home?"

"you wouldn't let me. you made me take you back to my place, then you practically demanded to sleep in my bed too," he tells you, filling a glass with water and handing it to you before turning back again to continue working on whatever task he was occupied with before you interrupted him. "thank god you didn't hurl."

you scoff, but you take a grateful sip of the water anyway. "you would've made me sleep on the couch?"

"yes." zero hesitation. motherfucker.

"and they say chivalry is dead."

"you'd be dead too if you had puked on my bed."

"i almost did. i woke up thinking i was kidnapped."

seungmin laughs, extending a hand to his right to grab a container of salt. you recognize it because it's part of the spice container set that you got him as a housewarming gift when he first moved into this apartment.

"would a kidnapper let you wear his favorite shirt and drool on his pillows?" he asks.

"i was practically blacked out. you could've thrown me a potato sack and i wouldn't have noticed."

"yeah, well, you wanted the shirt, so..."

for some reason, it makes you warm all over. though you still feel icky as hell from the night out, the soft material of his tee covering your body becomes more welcoming, makes you want to wrap yourself in the fabric even more.

you clear your throat, trying to dissolve the lump that forms in your throat upon hearing his words. the mischievous sun makes an appearance again, tiptoeing from the bedroom window to the kitchen window, sneaking through the cracks to saturate seungmin in a generous dose of golden light.

he turns around to face you once again, before you can think of anything else to say. he places a plate in front of you, and the sight leaves you a little taken aback. soft boiled eggs, already peeled and halved, sprinkled with your favorite sea salt.

"i don't think a kidnapper would get up early and google how to soft boil eggs either," he says with a casual shrug, but there's a hint of a smile there, tugging at his the corner of his lips.

"you had to google how to boil eggs?"

"soft boil eggs," he tuts, mildly offended that you'd think he's that incompetent in the kitchen. "because you like them."

he lets the smile take over completely now, the very second you feel heat rush to your cheeks.

"google said it takes six minutes, by the way."

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos

#stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz fic #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x you #seungmin fluff #seungmin scenarios #seungmin x reader #seungmin imagines #seungmin x you #stray kids #kim seungmin #seungmin

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chiaraswritings · 2 years ago

Text

Unexpected.

Disclaimer: I do not own DC or their characters, or their settings. This is certainly not canon.

Warnings & Topics: Suggestive themes, emotional distress, physical exhaustion, pregnancy. 18+.

Word Count: 3.9K words

Summary: Batmom! reader finds out she is pregnant a short time after marrying Bruce Wayne, not in the most pleasant of ways. Telling him won't be easy, but Alfred gives her some encouragement.

Author's note: After four hours of work, I deem my first fanfiction suitable for posting. Thank you for all the support. I hope you enjoy.

It'd been two months since that beautiful, blissful, romantic day. Actually, two months, two weeks, and one day. But who was counting, right?

The newspapers were. Headlines of gossip news, huge block letters in bold, depicted that I had been spotted at the gym alone again, also describing their support for my "weight loss journey" since I had been "losing my figure". I had been reading this article over and over for about an hour. Damn. I inspected the black and white photo of myself in leggings and a tank top. The worst part about, well, everything, is that they were right. I was losing my figure, noticeably.

I didn't even notice Alfred behind me until he spoke. "No matter how many times you read them, the words are not going to change, ma'am."

I jumped slightly. I hadn't been sleeping or eating well at all, my back and chest ached too much to relax, and heartburn hit me like a batarang after meals. I think I had gotten thirty hours of sleep in the last week, and maybe one meal a day. "Thank you, Alfred. Do you know when dinner will be ready?"

"In a half hour, ma'am." The butler moved to the other end of the kitchen table to face me. "Those words in the paper are words that all who love you disagree with."

Alfred's words touched me if only a little, and I set down the paper. "Thank you, I think I'm going to take a walk."

He looked concerned, but just for a moment. "Alright, ma'am. Try not to be late, the chicken may be devoured."

Chuckling, I stepped out into the early evening light. I would not be late for dinner, living with five hungry men teaches you a lot. The sunlight embraced me, bathing me in its gentle rays, glimmering over my face. I felt positively glorious. Closing my eyes, I soaked it in. My husband would soon be home to kiss me and keep an arm around my waist. The simple thought of his touch made my mouth stretch into a smile. Five more minutes, and I'll go in.

Five minutes turned into twenty. Being amongst the blooming flowers and the busy insects kept me occupied. Not only that, but a sudden headache had overtaken me. I sat in the grass, unladylike, watching the bees collect their last supply of nectar from the flowers for the day. Grass stains never bothered me anyway. I knew time was getting away from me, but I couldn't seem to bring myself to focus on anything. I didn't want to go inside because I didn't want bedtime to arrive. It was too painful to even think about. My head and back reminded me of that even now.

My vision blurred slightly, I could only focus on a single flower on the bushes before me, bees continuing to fly around it. This was nice. I couldn't focus on a single thing, or think about anything, or worry.

I felt myself fall, sort of, to the ground. Fall was the best word I know to describe it. I was already sitting on the ground, but my muscles suddenly felt like pudding. My head bumped to the grass and laid to rest. Terror gripped my heart and throat for a single second before everything just... relaxed. My vision went next, but I was okay with that. This was so relaxing. I wanted to stay.

...

"Madam. Madam (Y/N)!" The voice came from... maybe a mile away. Maybe. Maybe ten miles. Maybe a hundred.

"(Y/N), madam (Y/N)!" Something cold was on my face. Ugh. I don't like that. The wind bit and stung at where the cold wetness was on my cheek. Ouch.

"Wake up, madam!" No. I don't want to. Go away. But the voice sounds scared.

I slowly, slowly, with great effort, opened my eyes. Instantly they closed again. My friend the butler was hovering over me. What was his name again?

"Mom!" New voice. Go the hell away. I open my eyes again.

"I'm here, I'm fine." Sitting up took much more strength than opening my eyes, but I managed to do so. Dick and Alfred worriedly stare at me. "I was just taking a nap."

"That wasn't a nap, it looked like you passed out." Dick was the one with the cold wet cloth. He put it to my head again. I gave him a withering glare, and he pulled it away again, looking apologetic.

"It was a nap, of course I didn't pass out. Now let me return to it," I waved my hand in no particular direction, trying to shoo them away like mice.

"I am afraid I cannot allow you to sleep on the cold ground in nothing but your loungewear, ma'am." Alfred took the cloth from Dick and put it to my forehead.

Lord, they were being so annoying, I just wanted to go back to sleep. My eyelids drooped and my words slurred. "Bed hurts too much right now... just come back later..." my head finally dropped forward as vision began to diminish again.

I couldn't really tell what they said next. What I could remember was, "Inside now... call the... when they can see her..." and "...got her... go and tell him... I've got it..."

The sensation of being lifted did not startle my dozing. Neither did the shouting, nor the feeling of hands on my face. I had earned this sleep, and I was going to... enjoy... it...

...

I was awake, but I didn't want to open my eyes. It wasn't time. Please don't let it be time. I peeked a glance at my watch. Eight in the morning on a Sunday? Yeah, back to sleep we go.

Before I could return to my dreamless sleep, I became aware of unidentified breathing beside me. Was that Titus? Or maybe Alfred. Maybe I had been kidnapped. Did I care? Hell to the no. All I cared about at this present moment was slumber. If I was kidnapped, I could sleep all I wanted while I waited for them to rescue me.

Then, like a train, uninvited and on its own, the back pain hit my lower body. I couldn't help the moan of discomfort that tore from my throat.

Instantly, a hand went to my forehead. It felt so cold against my warm head. I'd better see who this person with the cold hands is and tell them to go stick their fingers in a campfire before touching me again.

When I opened my eyes, I realized I wasn't even in the garden anymore. Alfred, I told you I wanted to stay on the ground. But it wasn't Alfred who had put freezing digits on my forehead. It was my husband, my dearest Bruce, my wonderful partner in... crime didn't seem like a good choice of words. His worried blue eyes bored into my sleep-deprived (Y/C) eyes. Ouch, that gaze made my headache come back.

"Hello. Go warm your hands up," I told the love of my life before closing my eyes again. The light from the window seemed to be penetrating my very brain.

"My hands are warm," replied the bearer of freezing fingers.

"Please, feels like your hands went to the Artic circle for winter vacation." My stubborn retort took a lot out of me, but I could practically hear his small smile.

"There's my girl," he murmured. I opened my eyes again to smile at my wonderful... freezing... man.

"Yeahhh, your girl's going back to dreamland. Night night." I grunted at the pain stabbing me in the back, the throbbing in my head, and the emptiness in my stomach.

"Not yet, sweetheart. Stay right here. The doctor's going to be here at ten, you should freshen up a bit."

I opened one eye to glare unhappily at him. "Don't need a doctor. Need a nap."

His chuckle annoyed me to the very core, almost scaring away the shooting pains in my back. "I'm sorry, but this needs to happen. Do you know how worried we all were when we heard you had fainted in the garden? The boys hardly wanted to go on patrol, they wanted to look after you."

"The boys didn't want to go on patrol? You didn't want to look after me?" I glared playfully at my handsome knight. "And I didn't faint... just took a nap."

"On the cold hard ground?" His questioning gaze made me open both my eyes.

"Yes, it felt nice on my back."

"Does your back still hurt, sweetheart?"

"Yes, it still hurts."

"And you didn't feel like sleeping in the bed?"

"The hell is this, an interrogation?"

"Maybe," he grinned.

"Go away," I retorted, closing my eyes. "I have to go to work, no time for doctors."

"I called and told them you can't come in this week."

"This... this is why I married you."

It didn't take long to fall back into blissful, painless paradise. Bruce left me alone, but I knew he was close by, watching over me. The mansion was so quiet and peaceful, I knew the boys were fast asleep.

Much too soon, I was being kissed awake.

"Darling, Doctor Thompkin's here. It's time to wake up." Bruce's forehead kisses were, for the very first time in our relationship, annoying.

"Ugh." I rolled over to escape, my back cracking.

"Upsy daisy." He stroked my back, gently massaging my painfully aching muscles.

Sitting up took all the strength I had, and yet I had to find more to answer the questionnaire the doctor was springing upon me. Bruce stepped out mid-examination to answer a phone call, leaving the woman to observe my body and take into consideration my answers to her questions. Her questions seemed endless. "Have you been out of the country in the last month?"

"No."

"Have you been feeling depressed or hopeless?"

"No."

"Are you on any medications?"

"No."

"Do you or any family members have history of scoliosis?"

"No."

"History of heartburn?"

"No."

"When was your last menstrual cycle?"

"It's marked on the calendar, couple pages back."

"Do you know what year it is?"

I gave her a funny look. "Of course I do, what's wrong with you?" Now I feel bad for saying that, but I certainly didn't in the moment.

The doctor chuckled, her friendly eyes had laughter lines around them. "Just wanted to make sure you're still with me. Are you on birth control?"

"Yes."

"How long have you been on birth control?"

"Couple months. I went on it during our honeymoon."

"During?"

"Yes, we realized condoms and plan B weren't as convenient as the pill."

"I'm going to need a blood sample and then we're done here. I'll be in touch with the results. You don't seem to be suffering from scoliosis, but I'll contact you about x-rays to confirm. I haven't made a house call in a long time, or practiced family medicine, but I'll do everything I can to make sure we get to the root of this."

"Okay."

The blood draw seemed to take longer than I remembered blood draws taking. The prick of the needle didn't disturb the haze of sleepiness that still surrounded me. The woman's departure signaled another wave of sleepiness to wash over me. Bruce and Alfred were showing the doctor out as my head hit the pillow. Pain shot up my back, but sleep had already captured me.

Tomorrow turned into today, and then today became yesterday. It felt like I slept the whole Monday, skipping work and family dinner. Tuesday morning came with sunshine and kisses from my darling husband as I slowly opened my eyes.

"Hi," I smiled at him. One of Bruce's arms was holding me almost loosely as he lay next to me in the white sheets. He looked worn and tired from a long night of patrol. I sniffed him. Good, he had showered.

"Hello." His tired kiss on my lips was slowly waking me. "I love you."

"I love you too," I told him. My smile was getting bigger and my world was waking up. I traced the shape of his exhausted eyes. "Close your eyes. Sleep."

"Mmph." His eyes closed and his body relaxed under my touch. Normally, Bruce was the one to hold me tight and kiss me to sleep, to caress my body and keep me safe. Looking over his body, I realized that he had been through a difficult night of patrol. A stitched gash across his back, an unhappy bruise on his jaw, scratches on his forearms. Worrying about my "condition" probably hadn't helped him stay alert out there in the dangerous night of Gotham. Guilt washed over me. My arms protectively wrapped around my dearest husband, my lips pressing to his forehead. Today, I was going to keep him safe, I was going to comfort him through his slumber.

...

Bruce's snoring wasn't exactly a lullaby, so I was up and about after a few hours. The boys were crashed in their rooms and Alfred was busy baking something that smelled like chocolatey deliciousness. I was looking over the morning paper, again, skimming for any mention of my family or I. Unhealthy habit, you could say. I was curled up in an armchair next to the bed, keeping the rustling of the newspaper pages to a minimum.

Vibrations of Bruce's cell phone made me look up. As silently as I could, I leaped up and grabbed the phone from the bedside table on Bruce's side. My husband's sleep was important to me, and if I had it my way, nothing at all would disturb it, not even nightmares.

I carried the cell phone out of the bedroom and glanced at the caller ID. Doctor Thompkins. Results. Yes. This wasn't the first time I had answered my husband's phone, so I wasn't going to feel guilt over finding out my own test results. "Hello?"

"(Y/N), hello. I'm calling with your results."

"Tim's been telling everyone in the family it's yellow fever, please prove him wrong."

"Hah, no, it is not yellow fever... I'd say it's something a little more... serious."

I stiffened. My aching back didn't like that. "What's up?"

"We spoke about your history with birth control, but we need to talk about it again. It would seem that there was some window of time where you and Bruce were not using protection."

My backache must've hit my brain, because looking back, I can't believe I didn't catch on. "Bruce gave me a disease?"

"Not a disease. You're pregnant, (Y/N). I can't make an estimate on how many weeks you are, but I'm going to give you the contact information for an OBGYN. Make an appointment as soon as you can. Congratulations, Mrs. Wayne."

...

When Bruce woke up, I had to apologize to him for his cracked cell phone screen. I told him the truth, that I'd dropped it, but I didn't explain that it was from shock. He told me it was alright, that he'd pick up a new one, but he wasn't quite sure why I looked so very upset over dropping his phone. That would explain itself in time.

I didn't eat a thing at dinner that night, despite my full plate and coaxing from my family. Even the finest cut of steak is unappealing when something like that is on one's mind.

Who wouldn't overthink a thing like this? Pregnant, after a literal two months of marriage? Pregnant, while caring for four boys that you saw as your sons? Pregnant, after your husband had told you he didn't want anymore children? Pregnant, after you had both tried to be careful? Pregnant, to one of the greatest vigilantes and most successful businessmen in the world? Pregnant. I am pregnant. I might have my husband's baby.

"Mom!"

My head jerked up and I was greeted by five concerned faces.

"Ma, you look like you're in another world," Jason forked a piece of potato.

"Maybe I am in another world, Jay-Jay." I smiled slightly before standing. Ten eyes observed my every move.

"Ummi, where are you going?" Damian, the one who I expected would be the least concerned, watched me with huge, worried eyes.

"I think I need to sleep more. I will see you all tomorrow morning." I kissed every head at the table, my lips lingering on my husband's forehead. He rested his hand on the back of my neck, pulling me down for a gentle kiss. I think he noticed my hesitance, but I didn't stop to think about it or explain. My back only permitted me to walk up the stairs, but if I could've run, I would've.

Once Bruce and the boys had left for their night of patrol, I breathed again. Laying on the bed, clutching my pillow to my chest, trying to rehearse how I would address the situation to Bruce, it took a lot out of me. "Bruce, I need to tell you something," I mumbled. "No... Bruce, we need to talk."

"Madam, I am not sure if you have noticed, but Master Bruce is not here." Alfred's voice startled me for the second time this week.

"I wish he was. I'm sorry, I'm... practicing." I tried to give my friend a reassuring smile but it came out as a grimace.

"Good luck, madam," Alfred set down a cup of tea on my bedside table and gave me a genuine Alfred smile. Before he was out of the room, he turned back and looked me dead in the eye. "Master Bruce loves you very much, Madam (Y/N). He would not have married you if he was not ready to take on the unexpected. He will not turn you away when you tell him, so try not to overthink."

I looked straight back into this wonderful gentleman's eyes. "Thank you."

...

I tried to sleep through the night, I really did. When dawn and my boys arrived, I was still wide awake, not having slept a wink. I trotted down the stairs to the batcave, taking extra care not to trip. Once on the floor, we went through our post-patrol routine of inspecting each one of my boys. First Damian, who shrugged me off several times before allowing me to look over him, then Tim, who accepted my worrying for what it was, then Jason, who pretended to be annoyed for show, then Dick, who looked over me as carefully as I looked over him, then finally Bruce, who would not stop kissing me, barely giving me a chance to check him for injuries.

No one was truly hurt, but all but one were tired as they pulled off their suits. The boys trudged upstairs to their rooms, but my husband carried me valiantly up the stairs to our place in the master bedroom, like a knight carrying his princess.

Once the bedroom door was shut and he had set me down, I was instantly on my back laying on the bed, Bruce's lips showing affection to my neck and collarbone. A soft, throaty moan left my mouth as my husband kissed me, his hands working their way over my body. I was clothed in my favorite outfit of a tank top and leggings, and I knew they were at risk of being torn from my torso and limbs if I allowed this to continue. Besides... I had to tell Bruce.

"Darling..." the word I said was half-moaned. "Darling, please, you need to shower."

"I thought you liked my scent?" Bruce chuckled, looking up at me, his hands working their way up my shirt.

"Mmm, I do, but you are going to dirty our sheets that Alfred worked so hard to wash."

"You have a valid point, but I don't like it." Bruce grinned and pulled off the little clothing he wore. I chuckled and rolled my eyes, watching him make his way to the shower. If I hadn't had such a burden on my mind, I would've joined him. I could hear him muttering insults at the slippery bar of soap that his large fingers always seemed to have trouble grasping, and it made me smile. My hand absentmindedly rested on my stomach and I wondered if his child would have the same troubles as their father.

Bruce's shower was shorter than usual. Much shorter than if I had been in there with him. Chuckling, I made room for my knight in the bed. He hadn't bothered to put on clothes, or dry his hair. Bruce climbed on top of me, drops of water falling from his hair to my chest. His lips reattached to mine, devouring the kiss like a wild man. I knew what he had on his mind from the way he caressed my body, and I had to put a stop to it.

"Bruce... Bruce, wait."

Concerned eyes met mine. "(Y/N)?"

Alfred's words replayed in my mind. He would not have married you if he was not ready to take on the unexpected. I stared into the beautiful blue eyes I had grown to take comfort in. "Bruce, Doctor Thompkins diagnosed me."

Instantly, his desire was forgotten. Bruce sat back on the bed and pulled me onto his lap. "Tell me, darling, what is it?"

His arms made me feel so safe. He will not turn you away when you tell him, so try not to overthink. "I... you need to expect the unexpected."

"So I'm guessing it's not yellow fever, since that's what Tim expects," Bruce smiled. The gentle attempt at humor didn't lift the worry in his eyes.

"Heh, no... not exactly. It's... it's a baby." The last three words were much quieter than the others.

Bruce looked at me quizzically. "I don't think I heard you correctly."

"A baby," I honestly voiced my diagnosis, somewhat fearfully looking into his eyes. "I'm pregnant."

Bruce's glare pierced mine. He gently slid me off his lap and set me on the bed before standing and walking to the window to silently stare out of it. His breathing had changed, his body was stiff, everything about him seemed cold and hardened.

My worst fears bit and tore at my heart, anxiety gripping my throat like a murderer. Oh Lord, he doesn't want me anymore. I didn't know whether to go to him, or leave the mansion, or stay in the bed, or cry, or speak. So I just waited, for a full two minutes, staring at my husband's scarred back. After waiting that long, tears began to prick at my eyes. I finally laid down and curled into the cold sheets. "I'm sorry."

I heard him turn. "What are you sorry for?"

"Not paying attention to my birth control. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," my tears left wet spots on the pillowcase. I closed my eyes tightly.

Then I felt his weight on his side of the bed, he was laying beside me. Bruce collected me into his arms, tilting my chin up, asking me silently to look at him. I opened my wet eyes.

"I'm not angry with you. I'm thinking about it. Just let me think." Bruce's rough, calloused fingers brushed against my peach soft cheek.

"Okay." I closed my eyes to fight back angry, hot tears. He pulled me to his chest, holding me to himself. I could practically hear the wheels turning in his head.

He must've held me like that for an hour before he finally, finally spoke. "Well, this isn't what I thought two months into our marriage would look like."

My tears had left stains on his chest. Only a surge of bravery made me look up at him. "Yeah."

He looked down at me, smiled, kissed my lips, and I felt my husband's love course through my body. He may have turned me away physically, but he had never turned me away emotionally. I sat up on his lap, straddling him, my forehead resting on his, my hands on his cheeks. "I love you."

"And I love you," Bruce's fingers brushed against my waist. He seemed hesitant, and his eyes met mine. "May I?"

I was confused for a moment, but then I realized and nodded, beaming. "Yes."

His large hand rested on my stomach. The wheels in his head were still turning, but they had calmed, and they were only turning in the name of love.

"Expect the unexpected."

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veilofaponia · 4 months ago

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Actions Better Left Undone

yan chrollo x reader

word count: 1.5k

warnings: yandere content, kidnapped reader, unhealthy relationship, shitty first fic

The constant thumping of your heartbeat drowns out the sounds of the movie playing on the television. You’re surprised Chrollo hasn’t noticed (or atleast, commented on) how violently your heart is beating against your ribcage.

You try grounding yourself. Deep, slow breaths, occupying yourself with your hands, focusing on the movie playing in front of you on the screen. Focusing on anything but the man sitting comfortably next to you. The way the air feels heavy with his presence. The way his cologne is the only thing you can smell. The way how when you accidentally make eye-contact with him, he simply gives you an easy smile in return.

It does little to reduce your stress. If anything, it just makes you feel more uneasy. Even if there’s no actual proof, there’s just the underlying feeling that he knows. That he’s feigning ignorance just to see what your next course of action will be. Whether you’ll confess your wrongdoing to him (if you can even call it that), or if you’ll remain stubborn and pretend you did nothing of the sort.

Back in highschool, you and your friends would combine bobby pins and paperclips to make lockpicks. Then, you’d unlock the lockers of strangers in your school and fill them with fake letters and secretly giggle at their reactions. In the past, you were embarrassed of how you acted back then. But now, you can’t help but feel a sense of relief and pride that you developed a talent for creating makeshift lockpicks.

Chrollo had supplied you with hair ties and bobby pins when you complained about your hair constantly getting in your face. You felt a bit suspicious at first. Surely he knows bobby pins can be turned into low quality lockpicks. Yet you’d brushed it off, simply deciding he must’ve thought the lock to be of too secure.

You knew this too. There’s no way he wouldn’t have settled for the highest quality when it came to the lock that keeps you confined. But even then, when you came across paperclips in a little container on his desk, it was hard to resist. Without thinking too much of it, you’d already made a lockpick. The rational part of you told you not to bother; what would such a cheap alternative do against a heavy lock? But you had to try, right? It’d be a wasted opportunity otherwise, wouldn't it?

That’s what you told yourself when you inserted it into the lock and continuously tried to twist it open. You opted to try your luck while Chrollo was in the shower; the time at which he might come was always irregular, but you noticed the amount of time he took cleaning himself was constant. You spent minutes messing with the lock, but it showed no signs of budging. Just as you heard the running water shut off, the lockpick snapped. Part of it was stuck inside the lock, while the rest was in your clenched hand. With no other options coming to mind and time running out, you walked away from the door and pretended not to have done anything.

All this brings you back to your current predicament: sitting next to your tormenter on an expensive couch while a romcom functions as white noise for your overactive thoughts.

He’s definitely going to notice. He’ll know there’s something stuck in the lock. He’ll immediately realize I tried to escape. He’s going to punish me he’s going to punish me he’s going to—

“Are you okay, dearest? You’ve been acting off all evening."

Chrollo’s steady voice breaks your train of thought. You just blankly stare at him. It takes you a few moments to regain you ability to speak and give a somewhat solid response.

“No– I mean– Yeah, I’m fine. I just have a headache, that’s all.”

He looks to be considering your answer for a second. He wants to pry for more, because there’s definitely something off. But he merely blinks and responds softly with “I see.”. Then he redirects his attention back to the movie.

A wave of relief washes over you when you conclude he believes your (rather weak) lie. Just as you think you’ve managed to escape the topic, he strikes again.

“If it's that much of a bother, I could get you some painkillers.”

“Oh. Okay, sure.”

He pauses the movie and stands up. You assume he’s going to start walking to the bathroom, where the painkillers are usually kept. Instead, he starts walking towards the door and putting on his shoes. Panic shoots through you. You don’t do a good job at masking it. Sensing your confusion, Chrollo steps in and offers enlightenment.

“We’re all out,” Your blood runs cold. “I’m going to buy some more at the store.” He explains, while now putting on his coat.

You abandon all ideas of trying to remain calm and instead hyperfocus on your next objective: get Chrollo to stay inside so he won’t discover you tried to get out. Granted, it's just delaying the inevitable, but if he notices tomorrow morning while you’re still sleeping, he probably won't wake you up and maybe he’ll be less mad when he returns.

“No! N-No need, really! I’ll be fine, so there’s really no need to go out now. You should just stay inside, the weather isn’t very nice either. I’d hate to be such a bother.”

Chrollo himself remains composed, but his eyes give away how amused he is at your pitch.

“How sweet of you to not want to inconvenience me,” Gross. “but you were shaking heavily,” He’s reaching for his keys. “It pains me to see you like that,” He’s going to put his keys into the hole. “So don’t worry, I’ll gladly buy you— Oh.”

The keys don't fit into the hole. Because of the lockpick in it. That you got in there. Because you tried to escape.

You take a good look at Chrollo’s facial expression while he inspects the keyhole. He looks perplexed, but then again, he’s a great actor, so it’s hard to tell when he’s being genuine.

He sighs. He must’ve figured out what happend. Or maybe he’s just pretending he didn’t already know.

He begins to slowly take off his coat and shoes. You’re convinced he’s doing this on purpose; dragging the process out so you’ll be left anticipating what comes next for longer. You think to come up with another weak excuse or an awkward joke to ease the tension in the air.

Your lips part to speak, but immediately close again upon seeing the expression on his face as he walks back to the couch.

He’s not mad, no, he’s good at regulating his emotions. But there’s an odd look in his eyes that wasn’t there before, one that says more than you need to know. He’s not happy with your stunt.

Your heart is pumping blood through your body at an insane speed. Your breathing is becoming rapid and shallow. You redirect your gaze to the paused film on the television screen.

Chrollo sits down next to you. He doesn’t speak at first. He just fixates his eyes onto your figure while you continue staring at the screen.

After a moment of silence which feels like an eternity, he speaks.

“How did you create the lockpick?”

“I combined the bobby pins and paperclips on your desk.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

“Did you think a lockpick like that would be enough to grant you an escape opportunity?” He sounds curious, but you’re guessing he’s just asking to embarass you further.

“Well, not really, but…” You can't think of a reasonable explanation.

He chooses not to linger on it and instead asks his final question. “When did you try to pick the lock?”

You mutter your answer. “When you were showering.”

“Oh? Wouldn’t it be smarter to try when I was out?”

“You always lie about when you’re going to get back. If I tried while you were showering, I could hear when you were done and if the lockpick didn’t work I'd just take it with me and walk away from the door.”

He hums in acknowledgement, but says nothing more. Your explanation seems rather flimsy now. You hadn’t considered the lockpick breaking, and you had no way of getting it out.

He’s stopped questioning you. You wish you could peer into his mind to see his thoughts, because yours are only causing you more stress.

If he’s displeased with you, he’ll reprimand you somehow, won’t he? You can’t imagine him getting violent with you, but the countless possibilities there are can’t be much better.

To give yourself some semblance of grounding, you meekly ask him “What are you going to do?”

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes when he answers. “That all depends on you. If you can make it up to me... then perhaps I’ll go easy on you.”

His reply doesn’t comfort you. Instead, now you’re left fretting about how much of your pride you’ll have to throw away to please Chrollo and soften your punishment.

#♥︎my works #chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer x reader #yandere chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo

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my-castles-crumbling · 8 months ago

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"Sure, but only if you watch."

Based on this headcanon and a prompt by @beautyoftheships. NSFW and explicit, minors DNI

The party was loud. The house was so full of university students that James didn't even recognize most of them, though he lived in the house they were all occupying.

Music blared through huge speakers, courtesy of Sirius, and countless solo cups and beer bottles littered every available surface. A group of people threw ping pong balls into cups on the table and partygoers slurred words and stumbled around the kitchen as James walked by, clutching his own bottle.

Quiet. He needed quiet, of only for a second. He loved parties as much as the next bloke, but he had a bit of a headache, and he just needed a second.

Fighting his way through the crowd and down the hall, he found the door to his room, opening the door and slipping in, taking a deep breath.

"Needed a time-out, Potter? Sick of all the girls throwing themselves at you?" a low voice asked, and James's eyes shot over to his bed, where a pale, grey-eyed, dark-haired boy sat.

"Fuck yourself, Reg," James rolled his eyes, grinning.

Regulus was, of course, the only person he wanted to see at the party anyway. Regulus, who he could watch for ages. Regulus, who knew exactly how to make James worked up in the best way. Regulus, whose pout made James's cock twitch and heart ache. Regulus, who betrayed no emotions whenever he looked at James. Regulus, who was perfect.

But stunning gray eyes stared deep into James's and perfectly pouty lips muttered the best words James had ever heard in his entire life.

"Only if you watch."

Really, he was sure he'd misheard. Or that Regulus was joking. Or maybe Regulus had had too much to drink, and wasn't in his right mind. But a second glance at the other man told him that Regulus was sober, his eyes clear and no drink in sight.

"I-what?" James asked, flabbergasted, trying to pretend like the idea didn't make his knees weak.

"I know that you think about me, James. Maybe...maybe I think about you, too. D'you want to watch? While I...think about you?" Regulus murmured, small spots of pink appearing on the apples of his cheeks as he slowly (so slowly) dragged one hand to the button of his jeans.

"You're joking," James muttered hoarsely, convinced he was dreaming.

"Find out," Regulus shrugged, and suddenly his jeans were open with a small click of a button and the zip of a zipper.

James stared unabashedly as Regulus trailed his hand further, palming himself slowly, moaning just a little. "Reg," James whispered eyes widening as Regulus tightened his hand. "What-"

"James."

But he wasn't just saying James's name. He was moaning it, whispering it like a prayer as his slender fingers slipped underneath the elastic of his boxers. Without even realizing what he was going to say, James whispered, "Let me- let me see."

Grey eyes met hazel as Regulus stood, pulling his jeans and boxers down, revealing the most amazing cock James had ever seen. It was hard and ruddy, with a perfect, pink, already-dripping tip that made James's mouth water. God, he wanted to touch.

But he also wanted to watch. And his feet were rooted to the spot, so he stayed where he was.

As if reading his mind, Regulus wrapped his fingers around himself, still making eye contact with James, and began to slowly move, pulling at himself, eyes widening and glazing over just a little.

"That's it, baby," James found himself whispering. "Just like that."

And Regulus keened softly. Let out a high-pitched noise and bit his lip, let his eyelids flutter and sank back onto the bed, spreading his legs unabashedly.

My bed. He's going to come on my bed, James thought, watching the other man work himself over, twist his wrist slowly and cant his hips.

James was rock hard, himself, mouth wide open and palming at his extremely tight pants as Regulus adjusted his position, lying back on the pillows, knees wide and hand moving faster now. All the while, every time his eyes opened, they met James's.

"Fuck," James murmured to himself as Regulus's hips lifted off the bed and he cried out. "Those noises, love," he said louder, addressing Regulus, now. "So beautiful. Show me....show me what you want me to do to you, yeah?"

As if those were the magic words, Regulus's hand moved even faster, and he started whispering under his breath, just loud enough for James to hear. "Yes, James. Fuck, there. Please... James!"

It was the most erotic thing that had ever happened to him. Watching Regulus on his bed touching himself while he thought of James, James's hand pressing firmly on his own cock, hearing his name whispered is such a needy, desperate way.

"Can you come for me, baby?" James asked hoarsely, slipping his hand into his pants to wrap around his aching cock. "Come for me, darling. Show me how lovely you lo-"

It was a good thing a party was happening outside James's room, because Regulus nearly screamed. He let out James's name as his release flew over his stomach, painting his muscles in a way that made James come with him, standing right there by the door, pants still on. He fought to keep his eyes open, to watch as Regulus rode out his orgasm, face twisted in a way that made him look ethereal.

Me, he thought as he came down from his own high. He was thinking of me.

And as they both panted, chests heaving, and Regulus finally looked at him, the shorter man smirked a bit. "Maybe next time you can come a bit closer?"

James could only nod eagerly.

This got so long that I decided to post it on ao3, so leave love on there if you want!

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bearsbeetsbeskar · 1 year ago

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Sick Days with Joel Miller

(Joel Miller x female! reader)

Pairing: Joel Miller x female! reader (no outbreak) Word count: 4.5K of pure fluff and light smut Rating: 18+ MDNI, explicit descriptions of smut, swearing, age gap (reader is early 20s and Joel is late 40s) Summary: You're used to doing everything yourself, a facet of being single for so long, but when you start dating Joel Miller that all changes. Especially when you get sick during the first six months of your relationship, and Joel tries to take care of you. Main masterlist

A/N: This was so much fun to write y'all. I'm currently sitting in bed with a stuffy nose, sore throat, wicked headache, and hopped up on cold meds, wishing I had Joel Miller to take care of me 🥹. Also please excuse the fast and loose car mechanic jargon I used, I couldn't resist. The fast and furious series is also my guilty pleasure sick day movie choice, that and the OG star wars trilogy 🌚 An enormous thank you to my lifeline @iamasaddie for reading and giving me feedback and the most encouragement.

This is pure fluff with a bit of spice thrown in, I hope you enjoy! Please comment and reblog if you like it, and I might do more oneshots like this! - 🌹N

It’s the first time you’ve been sick since you and Joel started dating, and it’s different. Different from what you’re used to.

To preface, you rarely ever get sick. Rarely. And you pride yourself on that. You’re not entirely sure whether it's due to your ironclad immune system, or the fact that you’re a germaphobe who’s constantly washing their hands, but either way you manage to miraculously miss the seasonal bouts of illness that filter around when the weather gets colder.

So you’re not entirely sure how you manage to succumb to the throes of this particular cold, but the sore throat and stuffy nose that you woke up with were unmistakable. Other than crying, which wouldn’t help the pounding headache that you had also been blessed with, all you could do was groan and silently curse, rolling back over in bed and snuggling under the covers. You mindlessly stretch your arm out over the sheets, reaching over onto the other empty side of the bed. The cold, unmussed sheets, not filled with the broad, warm body that usually occupies the space make you groan internally once more.

You’re not a crybaby. Not one for milking the sick patient act, and after being single for so long you mostly run on autopilot. Your independence and resilience outweigh your desire to have anyone take care of you or do anything for you really. Well, that was the case up until now. Until you met Joel.

You’ve had partners before that have ‘taken care’ of you when you were sick. Or well, tried to. The key word being tried. Other than a measly backrub and cuddling with you for the appropriate amount of time until they deemed it was time to go cause they weren’t getting laid, you pretty much handled it yourself. And you liked it that way. You didn’t need anyone else to play martyr and attend to your every beck and call.

Joel on the other hand, he does things. His presence interrupted your stream of self reliance and knocked you on your ass when you didn’t know what to do with yourself. When you had nothing left to do for yourself, because he had already taken care of it all.

The light in the hood range above your oven went out? Joel fixed it. The bathroom sink began leaking underneath the cabinet? No less than a day later you come home and you already find him lying on his back, head underneath the vanity, toolbox beside him, twisting pipes this way and that.

Just last week you mentioned to him that you’ve been hearing a squeaking sound coming from the car every time you press on the brakes, next thing you know he’s out in the driveway, broad shoulders hunched over the hood as he tightens and loosens bearings, tinkering the way he knows best.

“Alright, you shouldn’t hear that noise anymore. The rotors on your front brakes needed tightening,” he mentions casually, wiping his hands off on a greasy rag as he comes into your kitchen from the garage. Looking up from the magazine you’re reading, you pause your chewing around a mouthful of toast.

“Huh?” you raise a brow at him quizzically. “I only told you about that yesterday though. I was just gonna take it to the mechanic.”

The corner of his lip lifts up slightly as he smirks. “And now you won’t have to worry about it for the rest of the day, or tomorrow, or the day after that. It was an easy fix, plus the mechanic woulda overcharged the hell outta you darlin’.”

You roll your eyes, “Gotta love that fucking misogyny,” you huff as you get up and head into the kitchen, putting on a pot of coffee for you both.

“It’s the way of the car industry unfortunately. Most guys who own shops are just crooks out to get anyone’s money, and most people don’t really know any better.” He replies casually as he washes his hands at the sink beside you.

“And I suppose that makes me ‘most people,’” you grumble, packing the coffee grounds into the filter, before placing it into the machine.

Without missing a beat, Joel slides your mug under the dispenser first. It's a cute little white ceramic mug that says Pot Head, beneath it is a comical image of coffee pot with bloodshot googly eyes . It was his present to you after you started dating, and he first slept over at your place. He soon realized the depths of your monosyllabic crabbiness in the morning, when he tried to talk to you before your first cup of coffee.

Now, six months into your relationship, the coffee pot is usually the first appliance that gets turned on in the morning, usually by Joel, the early riser that he is, while you soak up a few more moments of sleep. It’s pretty futile though, because once he gets out of bed, you can’t get comfortable under the covers, your personal space heater leaving a massive dent in the comforter.

“You ain’t most people to me,” his voice deepens with that Southern drawl as he moves to stand behind you, drying off his hands. God, he’s so fucking big. His presence crowds you, feeling his broad chest against your back as he places his hands on either side of you, pinning you to the counter.

You hum with a knowing smile as you hit the button to start dispensing the coffee. “Is that so?”

He leans in, brushing your hair off of your shoulder, leaning in to nuzzle your neck. “You’re my person. Mine. That’s about all that matters.” Pressing featherlight kisses into your neck, you sigh and let your head fall back against his broad shoulder, giving him more access.

“Well,” you try to collect your thoughts but the logical, words forming, part of your brain shuts down, turning to mush as he begins to nibble and bite at your neck. “Thank you for fixing the squeaky sound,” you barely get the words out between shallow breaths.

“No problem at all darlin.’” He grinds his hips into the plush of your ass and starts sucking on your pulse point. You whimper pathetically, grabbing a hold of his hands on the counter bracketing you, pushing your ass back against his crotch, reveling in how hard he is. Your pussy throbs with want, as you feel it clench around nothing, wetness seeping out of it.

“Should be silent as a whistle now.” His voice is gravelly deep now, and you snake a hand around the back of his neck, clutching his body closer to yours as you continue to let out small mewls. “Your noises on the other hand, are driving me fuckin’ insane. Wanna get more than just a squeak out of you.”

He reaches down, palm skimming over the curve of your hips, down to your ass before he squeezes, while biting down on the junction between your shoulder and your neck. At that, you squeak.

“Joel…” your last two brain cells firing off weakly as you try to form a coherent thought. “What- What about the c-coffee?”

“You had one cup already this morning,” he murmurs into your skin, “it’ll keep.” His left hand moves to grip your hip, the other one squeezing your asscheek again, not before he gives it a firm smack. You jolt forward in his grip and moan, bending your upper half over the counter, your body already responding so easily to his touch.

“Bedroom.” He says gruffly, releasing your hips and stepping back with a smirk on his face. You blink your eyes open, not realizing you had them closed in the first place and turn around with a glare.

Joel lazily tilts his head in the direction of your bedroom, his hand grabbing the obvious bulge in his pants. “C’mon my little pot head.”

So yeah, needless to say you really didn’t have to worry about being reliant on yourself for many things anymore. Joel was happy to do those things for you, and you were more than happy to show him your appreciation in return.

Being sick however, that seemed to stump him. There wasn’t anything to physically fix aside from your ailments, although he wishes that could be the case. That he could just snap his fingers and your nose would be cleared, sore throat gone, headache disappeared. But it wasn’t that easy.

Normally, you’d try to ride it out for a day or two as best you could, without making a fuss over it, but today the buzzing in your head was too intense to ignore. You yanked the top drawer of your nightstand open, bemoaning as you fruitlessly rummaged through the empty box of Nyquil pills, empty Advil bottles, and one lonely tub of Vicks shoved towards the back.

“For fuck’s sake. Of course,” you gritted. Closing the drawer, you roll back into the sheets, throwing an arm over your eyes and letting out the deepest sigh ever. Just then your phone vibrates on the nightstand. You pick it up and squint with bleary eyes as you focus on the text. It’s from Joel

[Joel]: Mornin’ darlin.’ Still up for the 7pm showing tonight?

You furrow your brows for a moment before you roll your eyes, back into your skull it feels like.

“Shit. The movies.”

It was Tuesday. You guys had made plans to see a cheap show after Joel got off work tonight. Some new crappy instalment of the Fast and Furious movies, hence the cheap night choice.

You sniffle as you fumble to type out a reply. The rhythmic pounding in your head distorts your concentration.

[You]: Morning babe. I don’t think so. Sorry. I came down with something last night and I feel like shit.

You add in multiple variations of the sad crying emoji, and the water gun to be dramatic.

[Joel]: No worries hun. I’m sorry you’re not feelin’ well.

[Joel]: Wanna do something else?

You wish. You love any plans and dates you have with Joel, and you’re more than happy to cancel those plans to stay in with him on any day of week. Today shouldn’t feel like an exception but you don’t want to inconvenience him, and you also don’t want him to see you when you practically look like an extra off the set of The Walking Dead.

You sigh again harshly and sniffle.

[You]: I don’t think so. I feel like shit. Just wanna stay in bed and rot, plus I don’t wanna get you sick.

He’ll probably think you’re being overdramatic. The productive storm that you are getting bested by a measly cold, it’s stupid. Unheard of.

[Joel]: I think you’ll survive. Can’t have you dying on me so soon into our relationship, we still gotta hit the one year anniversary.

Biting your lip, you shake your head. How this man remains to be flirty and cute even when you’re feeling low and incredibly not cute is beyond you. Your phone buzzes again.

[Joel]: Plus if you’re sick now, then chances are I woulda already caught whatever bug you have cause I saw ya two days ago.

Well, he’s not wrong when you think about it. Your cheeks heat up when you think back to Sunday night, when he had stayed over. You were straddling his lap, arms wrapped around his neck as he licked into your mouth, sucking on your bottom lip and gripping your hips while you lazily bounced up and down his thick cock.

Ironically, it was supposed to be a Fast and Furious marathon night in preparation for the cheap movie you would see in theaters tonight. You barely made it through the first 20 minutes of the first movie in the series before Joel’s thick fingers started aimlessly tracing the inside of your thigh as you sat beside him. Your pussy throbbed at the memory, the phantom stretch of his cock, almost matching the throbbing residing in the front of your head.

Yeah, so maybe he was past the point of contagion. You’re so lost in reminiscing, he must realize it’s taking you a minute to respond, fully well knowing the effect that his words have on you. So he texts again.

[Joel]: Was a pretty fucking good Sunday night 😈

The devil emoji causes a chuckle to sputter up through your chest, but it’s pretty short-lived when you realize you can’t chuckle and breathe in through your congested nose at the same time. You recently taught him how to use emojis in his texts, so you’re surprised when he actually puts it to the test.

[You]: That it was babe. But I don’t wanna burden you, plus we can’t really do anything. 🙄

You add on the eye roll emoji, sure that he’s feeling the same way too. What guy wouldn’t? Surely not any of the guys you dated in the past. They tried, but deemed it wasn’t worth it when you couldn’t even suck their dicks without needing to pause every few seconds to breathe through your mouth and cough. Your sore throat feeling like it was wrapped in barbed wire.

[Joel]: Who said we had to do anything? I’d still wanna spend time with you. I just like being with ya.

Damn this fucking man for being such a sweetheart. You didn’t deserve him.

[Joel]: I’ll be over in 30. Want me to bring anything in particular?

[You]: You’re in the middle of the workday Joel, you don’t need to come over.

Of course you want him to come over. His presence is the only thing that would lift your mood if you’re being honest, despite feeling like your body’s been hit by a semi. But you don’t want him to leave work. That’s too much, and you’re not that whiny girlfriend.

Seemingly unimpressed by your response, he replies again.

[Joel]: 👀. 🍔 🍦 🍿?

[You]: I’m not terribly hungry right now. Just bring yourself. And maybe a bottle of nyquil plus some advil 💊? Also, look at you with all your emojis, I’m impressed 😉

[Joel]: 👍🏻sounds good. See you soon 🛻

Tossing your phone into the comforter, you slowly roll out of bed. Like a slug, you slide out from under the covers, over the side of the mattress, planting your feet on the ground before you keel over.

You pad into the kitchen, glancing at the coffee maker forlorn. Probably not the best option with how your throat feels right now. Frowning, you grab a mug from the cabinet, not your pot head mug, but a plain one with simple red flowers painted on it, and flick the switch for the kettle on. Your options for tea weren’t endless as a coffee drinker, but you only really drank the muddied flavored water when you felt sick. Settling for a package of stale peppermint, you place the tea bag in the cup of boiled water and go to plop yourself back down onto the living room couch.

No less than 25 minutes later, you’re curled up on the couch, mug of tea in hand, and your head resting on a pillow as you start the first Fast and Furious movie. Might as well, since you didn’t technically watch it with Joel the first time. Plus, Paul Walker was easy enough on the eyes that you didn’t really mind watching it over again.

Joel arrives minutes later, letting himself in, a bag from the pharmacy in one hand, and a plain plastic bag filled with containers in the other. Before you can question it, the savory fragrant smell of Chinese food wafts through the living room, infiltrating your senses and overpowering your congested nose.

At that you raise your head off the couch cushion, sitting upright with your legs crossed.

“Hey babe.” He drops the food off in the kitchen and comes over to the couch, pulling out the Nyquil and Advil, placing them on the coffee table.

“How you feelin’ ?” He kisses the top of your head and you grunt in response.

“Like absolute garbage,” you croak with the smallest smile you can muster, as you look up at him. He huffs in response and gives you a placating smile, not before peering down into your mug to see the transparent brown water. “Tea? Jeez you weren’t kidding”

“It tastes like garbage too.” You wrinkle your nose after taking a small sip. The smell of the takeout slowly brings you back as you perk up and look at him. “You brought Chinese?” The hopeful smile in your face grows exponentially as he nods.

Joel hums. “I know when you say you’re not hungry, that’s a lie. I also know that you have the biggest appetite of any woman I know.” At that your eyes narrow and your mouth drops open.

“And-” he cuts you off before you can respond, “I know that if there’s any kinda food that could convince you to eat when you don’t have an appetite, it’s greasy Lo Mein, General Tso chicken and fried rice.”

Sighing with contentment you smile and slouch back in your seat. Whatever words were on the tip of your tongue soon disintegrate as gaze up at him with utter awe and adoration.

“Thanks Joel, really. You didn’t have to do all this.”

He frowns at you, confusion clouding his features. He's so adorable when he looks confused.

“It wasn’t a lot. You asked me to bring the cold medicine.” Flashing you a smirk, he brushes your hair out of your face and tucks it behind your ear. “I was just thinking one step ahead of you, and this way you can have leftovers. Also if I could, I woulda tried to cook you something, but we both know that woulda been a disaster.”

You snort in response. “Well, still. I really appreciate it.” You nuzzle your face into his hand, as his thumb strokes across your cheek gently. You can feel your stomach twinging with hunger now, now that you’ve smelled the food. It almost matches your hunger for Joel.

He must have changed at home before he came over. The faint scent of his sandalwood body wash floods your brain as you take in his dark flannel shirt, stretched over his broad shoulders, dark wash jeans hugging his strong thighs. His curls peek out at the back of his neck as they dry soft and fluffy while his molten brown eyes look at you with a mix of adoration and concern.

Meeting his gaze, you look up at him through your lashes as you turn your face to kiss the tip of his thumb. Before he can stop you, you curl your tongue out, swirling it around the tip and closing your lips around it as you suck his thumb into your mouth. Hollowing your cheeks out, you suckle harder, feeling heat slowly flood your body.

Joel exhales sharply, as he grinds his jaw, clenching his other hand into a fist.

“Christ baby. You’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me, y’know that?” He presses his thumb down on your tongue, forcing your mouth open as he pulls it out, letting it catch on your bottom teeth as you bite down playfully.

It was just as easy to rile him up as he did with you, and you fucking loved it. You give him a saccharine smile. “Good. We can die together, seeing as I feel like death already”

He shakes his head and chuckles. “Why don’t you take two of these,” he opens the Advil bottle and places two tablets in your hand, “finish your tea, as much as you can,” he adds when you scrunch up your face at the mug, “and go take a hot shower. I’ll put the food out for us.”

You pop the pills in your mouth, chug the rest of the tea, grimacing as you taste it and stand up to face him. Joel grabs your face with both hands, that look of pure warmth emanating through his big rounded eyes as he plants a soft kiss your forehead, before kissing you on the mouth. In a feeble attempt to protest, you weakly pull back but his mouth continues to seeks yours out. "Joel," you murmur against his mouth, "my germs.”

“I love you, and I love your fuckin’ germs. They’re my germs too.” He pulls you into a big bear hug, you feel all the pent up tension from this morning dissipating from your body. Burying your face in his chest you inhale and make a small noise of contentment. You love his scent. It’s so inherently Joel. It’s home.

“Now go on.” He swats you on the butt playfully and you giggle, sashaying past him.

By the time you finish and get dressed, he’s already got the takeout containers organized strategically on the coffee table with plates, cutlery, and glasses set out. The lo mein and General Tso chicken dishes are closest to your side of the couch, while his dishes, the black pepper beef and spicy Singapore noodles, remain closer to his side, separated by the fried rice in the middle. Your heart warms and expands in your chest at the sight.

“I didn’t even wash my hair and it felt like that took fucking forever. The water pressure in that shower head used to be good,” you grumble as you take your hair out of the messy bun on top of your head, shaking it out for good measure.

“How long’s it been actin’ up?” He asks while pouring some soy sauce over his noodles.

Already, you can see the wheels turning in his head. Always the contractor.

“For the last couple months but it’s really bad now.” You fix him with a knowing look and speak up again before he can say what you’re already anticipating. “And before you say you can fix it, I’ve already had repairmen over before you who tried and failed. Saying something about a part that needs to be ordered and it’s super fucking expensive.”

He says nothing in response, just raises a brow at you. “Whatever you say darlin.’”

“C’mon let’s eat.” You change the subject and bounce over to the couch, shimmying by him and dropping down onto the couch.

“Seems like the Advil kicked in,” he surmises with a smiles. Your energy is evidently higher now that the headache has gone away.

Humming, you lean in to kiss him. You press your lips into his, feeling his tongue glide against the seam of your mouth as you open up and let him in. Moaning quietly, you break off the kiss before it gets heated, and before you have to breathe through your mouth again - although your congestion has gone down significantly, the hot shower definitely helped. “That, and your presence helps too.”

He grins at you, a twinkle dancing across his big brown eyes. “Good. I’m glad. Nowhere else I’d rather be.” You look away bashfully, and begin piling stuff onto your plate.

“You started watching this again?” He nods at the TV with an unimpressed expression as Vin Diesel broods over the hood of an old muscle car.

“Yeah,” you mumble around a mouthful of chicken, “we barely watched 20 minutes of it before you had your fingers buried in my pussy.” You look at him pointedly with your mouth full and he bites the inside of his cheek.

Licking his lips, he leans down till his mouth is right next to your ear.

“I’d rather hear that tight little pussy purring around my fingers, than the hear the engine of a 1970 Dodge Charger baby," he says lowly, stretching his arm over the back of the couch as he wraps his hand around the back of your neck. "Even if it is one of my favorite cars.”

Slowly, he runs his fingers up and down the sides of your throat with a featherlight touch, careful to not squeeze as you finish swallowing your mouthful of food.

You groan and let your head fall back, submitting to his touch. Joel knows all your buttons to push, he learned them pretty quickly on into your relationship, and it made him all the more attractive to you. Every touch of his that made your breathing get shallow, every perfect press of his body against yours.

He knows you like being choked. Knows how sensitive your neck is, how you melt under his hands, turning to putty as soon as he wraps his large palms around the slender column of your throat. He makes it so fucking easy, your body so hyperactively attuned to his, no matter how crappy you may feel apparently.

“Joel,” you warn him but it comes out more as a breathless whine. Chuckling in response, he concedes and releases your neck.

“Not fair.” You glare at him and poke him in the chest with the opposite end of your fork.

He shrugs and gives you that shit eating grin again. “Fair is fair darlin.’”

Shaking your head, you resume the movie and both dig into the food. As delicious as the takeout is, you recognize that you don’t have as big of an appetite as you usually do, given how run down you feel, and you get full pretty quickly. An hour into the movie you’re curled up against Joel’s side with your feet tucked under you, a thick blanket pulled over you both, and a beer in his left hand.

“As if that would ever happen,” he grumbles out loud as he watches Paul Walker and Vin Diesel ramble on about fuel pump injectors and supercharged turbo's.

Secretly, you love how invested Joel gets in these shitty movies, it's partly why you put them on to begin with. Well, that, and because it usually ends with both of you getting distracted, and him railing you into the cushions of the couch. Still, it’s endearing to see him get annoyed and worked up over the mechanical and technical inaccuracies in the movies. It's also fascinating and super fucking attractive to see how his brain works. The competency kink in you preens at his humble flexing of mechanical knowledge.

You hum in question, too tired to formulate a better response.

“You put that much nos (nitrous oxide) in a car, and you’ll be blown to fuckin’ pieces at the smallest bump in the road. Jesus,” he shakes his head and gestures with his beer bottle at the screen. His right hand is curled around your shoulder, thumb brushing against your cheek, back and forth. The soothing movement coupled with your full belly is quickly lulling you into sleep.

“Well, Paul Walker seems to know what he’s doing, seeing as they made like 7 more movies after this one. Plus it’s just a movie babe. ” You nuzzle further into his shoulder, struggling to keep one eye on the movie as you hear Joel make more unenthused comments.

“Movie or not, they coulda done their research. Half the shit they’re describing under the hood of a car sounds made up. And there's 7 fucking more of these films?”

He huffs in disbelief, taking another sip of his beer. "Yeah we wouldn't have made it through the rest of em.'"

“Okay Mr. Mechanic, we get it. It’s not 100% accurate, but you gotta admit the racing is pretty cool.”

He looks down at you from the corner of his eye, the corner of his lips pulling up slightly. “It’s alright I guess. More importantly, how are you feelin’ now?”

He rubs small circles into your back, as you practically fold over into his lap now, eyes refusing to stay open.

“Mmmm, much better,” you stretch your legs out, arching your back like a cat, making a small sound of relief. “Thank you babe. For the food, the meds, for coming over and taking care of me.” Giving him a dopey smile, you peak one eye open at him.

“Anytime darlin,’ you don’t have to thank me, s’my job. And I’ll gladly do it any time, sick or not.”

The warm depth of his voice seeps into your bones, as you soon doze off in his lap. He waits a little while till your breathing evens out, then kisses your head again as he slides out from underneath you to use the washroom.

You perk up and blink your eyes open to see the credits rolling across the screen, just as you hear the toilet flush. It's soon followed by the sound of the shower turning on and off, and then muffled sounds of clinking and clanking as Joel starts to take apart your shower head.

Smiling to yourself, you close your eyes again and curl up on the warm spot he left behind. Maybe sick days aren’t so bad after all.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller fic

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atinysunbaby · 11 months ago

Text

@ateezluvv asked :

heyyy...could you please make ateez having crush on you? aaaand you are songwriter at KQ too....thank uuuuuu

Thank you for asking! I hope you'll like it even though I didn't make it the exact way you wanted and it took me an eternity to write, really sorry about that. :(. I wrote a different job for each member, because I felt it might be more entertaining that way. <3

⌛Ateez Hyung line having a crush on you⌛

💖Park Seonghwa💖

"Park Seonghwa." You call your next patient's name, standing while holding the door separating the offices and the waiting room. You analyze his every actions and movements, like the boy's eyes widening slightly at the sound of your voice, the pathetic non subtle attempt at taking a shaky breath in hopes to slow his sudden rapid heartbeat, his hands and legs trembling as he stands up and the corner of his lips he can't seem to control that are starting to form a smile.

"Hello Dr. L/N!" You nod with a smile and gesture for him to follow as usual, scoffing under your breath in amusement, the excitement you could hear in those 3 words and the higher tone of voice he used, added to his reddening cheeks and averting eyes, this man really can't keep his emotions from showing.

You position yourself at the entrance of your office, gesturing for Seonghwa to enter. "Please take a seat and we'll get started."

The boy obeys immediately, maybe a bit too fast in your perspective, but letting this slide as well, you sit behind your desk and proceed to ask him a few personal questions. "So tell me Mr. Park, what is the reason of your urgency?"

"My what?" He asks, his voice almost a whisper and wearing a confused expression, waiting for your possible explanation. "Yes, you called my secretary and asked to get the closest appointment disponible.. or was that not the case?"

"No- I mean yes.. It's because of headaches, I get them everyday and I can't focus on practice anymore when it gets to intense." He lets out frustrated, clearly it has been affecting him for a while. "Any other symptoms?"

"Umm- no, I don't think so." You nod and type a few informations in your computer. While being occupied, you can still see the way the boy bounces his legs in nervousness and the way he can't seem to loosen up. "Are you sleeping enough, eating well, hydrating?"

"Well, sometimes?" At that, you give him back your full attention, concerned about his wellbeing. "Sometimes? What is sometimes? How many hours of sleep do you generally get, do you eat all of your meals and what kind of food, how many glass of water per day?"

"I'd say.. 4 hours per nights, sometimes more or less. I drink whenever I can, which I believe is not enough and every time I eat I feel sick, so I eat one meal, sometimes 2 and it's mostly ordered." You know he's an idol and you came to the conclusion that he was working really hard and it must be complicated, but you had no idea it was that bad. "Alright, you'll have to get a blood test and when I'll receive the results I will immediately send you a prescription for the supplements you need. I believe you are malnourished and you lack a whole lot of sleep."

He nods and sighs, feeling a bit helpless at his situation, it's almost impossible to stay completely healthy when there's a comeback and on top of that the group received death treats.

"You must know this already but, you really need to eat all of your meals and try to eat healthily, you need to sleep to regenerate your body and drink more water in order to function better. You might only be experiencing headaches now, but if this keeps on going at long term, there could be a lot of negative repercussions."

"I will, thanks miss!" He says with a blush coating his cheeks, slowly coming to realisation of the word he used. "You don't have to call me miss you know? Y/N will be just fine, if that's alright with you of course."

"No no no- I mean yes of course! It's totally fine- sorry.." He abruptly shuts his mouth because of the amused look you give him, never having felt more embarrassed in his life. "No worries Seonghwa, just make sure to keep this a secret between the two of us, I'm not supposed to get so 'friendly' with a patient and my colleagues wouldn't appreciate that I'm being so unprofessional."

All you receive is a flustered nod from the other and the sight infront of you is priceless. Seonghwa looks breathless and his whole face, neck and ears seems to have turned red, his lips are restrained by his teeth and it looks like they are about to rip from the pressure, in short, the boy looks like he is about to burst. "Seonghwa."

"Mmh?" He looks at you dumbly, as if his brain had just stopped working and he turned stupid. You scoff in disbelief, but mostly because you find him adorable for behaving like you are some kind of goddess. "You can breathe sweetheart."

And with that his whole chest deflates, as he lets out the breath he was holding.

💙Kim Hongjoong💙

Being a teacher always has been your dream job, and for the last few months that dream became a reality, but you wonder now if you might have made a mistake.

Everything that comes with teaching, other than educating people on your favorite subject, is actual crap. Even though you have considered unimaginable scenarios while trying to prepare yourself to this world, it is nothing like what you imagined.

You wanted to quit after weeks of feeling absolutely miserable, but something-no, someone held you back. Hongjoong. That cute boy in one of your class who always pays attention and participates as much as humanly possible.

While the others always treat you like shit, being disrespectful and making disgusting comments that affect you more than you thought they would, Hongjoong stands up for you. He shuts them up real quick which you think is really sweet, but he's your student and it can be nothing more than that. Your delusional self will need to forget about that perfect man and move on.

"Alright guys remember about what we covered for the last two weeks, most of it will be in the exam. Have a good day!" Your students, although disrespectful most of time, salute you on their way out when they feel like being polite, which in your opinion is somewhat even worst. Because you know they know that they make you feel worthless, but they only care about themselves and their image.

"Excuse me miss?" There it is again, that smooth, angelic, soothing and irresistible voice calling for you. Trying to calm the untamable beating of your heart and put on the mask of a teacher who's totally not head over heals for her student, you answer the boy with a charming but neutral nevertheless tone of voice. "Yes Hongjoong what is it?"

"Could I speak to you for a second.. like privately?" He adds the last two words in reason of the numerous students walking around the corridor, you also don't fail to notice him looking quite uncomfortable and proceed to leave the door ajar, to not cause any misunderstanding..

"I just have a certain, uhh.. I need to tell you.. something." He fidgets endlessly which makes you even more nervous, but you remain calm as your 'student' needs you. "Of course what is it, you can tell me anything."

"I.. just kind of like you, like a lot." He throws the confession at you and acts like he's the one in shock, gasping with his eyes full of what resemble fear and hands coming up to hide his gapping mouth. You on the other side, stop breathing completely. "W-what?"

Then you know it wasn't the reaction he was hoping for, because panic settles in his already overwhelmed with emotions' body and mind. "Oh no- please I'm sorry! Could you please maybe forget I ever said that? I don't- it was a lie! Yes I lied-"

"Oh my- you did nothing wrong, no need to panic, just take a deep breath babyboy. " At the beginning of your sentence, you watched as his body relaxed and he started to regain control of himself, but after that you lost the poor boy. "B-babyboy?"

You didn't mean to call him that, but you don't regret it after seeing his reaction. You try to hide your laugh behind a cough, but he catches it quickly. "Are you laughing at me? Was that a joke?"

He looks so heartbroken that it sends a sharp pain through yours, an adorable pout makes its way onto his face without his knowledge, small unshed tears gather at the corner of his eyes and his eyebrows furrow in sadness, making his forehead slightly scrunch up. The poor baby looks way too cute when he's sad, and you shouldn't think so. "No don't cry, it wasn't a joke! I didn't mean for it to slip out like that, but if you don't dislike the nickname..."

"Really?" You have to stop yourself with everything you have right now, to not hug the life out of this precious little human. Fortunately, it seems that luck is on your side today, and the boy is the one reaching out for you. "Umm, would it be ok if I hugged you?"

"Come here." And of course you can't resist, squeezing the boy in your arms in a tight hug and he melts against you, his hands gripping the back of your shirt in fear you'll let go.

💛Jeong Yunho💛

"Hello! Is anyone here?" You hear a deep, masculine voice call out for someone and you hurry to put the tiny kitten your holding in its cage with her siblings. "Yes I'm coming, just a second!"

"Oh there's no need to rush, please take your time." The man kindly responds and you smile at the gentleness in his tone, hurrying your task despite not having to. You don't want to make the boy wait when you have the time for him immediately.

You enter the main entrance with hurry and enthusiasm for a potential new customer, more then ready to greet the person waiting in the room, but your usual joyful speech is cut short when you are met with who you think, is the most handsome man you ever saw. "Welcome to the shelter... Umm I'm Y/N, how can I help you sir."

You gulp unintentionally, all of the confidence you usually have for other animal lovers like you is thrown out of the window from the moment your eyes meets. His smile is as bright as the sun and you swear you can see twinkles in his beautiful brown eyes, his aura gives off positivity and pure happiness and it makes you smile unknowingly. "Hi I'm Yunho, I'm looking to adopt a dog."

"Oh right- of course, we have a few little treasures at the moment! Would you like to meet them?" You ask in hopes that he would agree and end up taking one of the unfortunate pups currently residing in cages after being abandoned. "Yes! I'd love too."

Your heart flutters at the sight of his beauty and sincerity, showing off all of his perfect white teeth, eyes squinting slightly, giving him such a cute appearance. "You can follow me! I'm sure they'll be really excited to spend some time with you."

"I'm excited too. I've thought about this for a long time and I already bought everything necessary, bed, food bowls, toys, food, treats, blanket and- maybe a little too much actually." Yeah, excitement is clear in his tone and you can't fight the grin from appearing on your face. "I'm really glad to hear that. A lot of people who come to adopt some of our animals don't seem to care much."

"Really? Who wouldn't be looking forward to this? I mean especially if they come here in the first place." You're shocked for a second, the more he speaks and the more you are pleased by his kindness. He seems like a gentle and caring person, exactly the type of person a pet needs. "Right! That's what I thought, they don't deserve to adopt one of them if they act like that."

You turn to him slightly while opening the door to the dogs' room, both exchanging an interesting glance and you blush slightly at the way he carefully watches you. You wonder if he has been looking at during your whole small conversation and if he did, you hope you didn't do anything embarrassing. "We're here."

Your voice his small and you silently curse yourself for appearing so shy and nervous in front of someone you just met. You proceed to open the first cage, letting the 1 year old corgi out and introducing him to Yunho. " This is Pudding, he's a pretty active little guy, cuddly and he listens well to the instructions he's given. On the day he was brought here, he whined and didn't wanna come out of his cage for days after, he was so sad. Poor baby."

"I can't imagine abandoning a small being like that, they must go through so much pain." The pained expression he wears now, confirms his thoughts and you try to brighten the mood up a bit. "Fortunately, there are some amazing people who come here to save them."

Yunho giggles, knowing the intentions behind your words and appreciating your efforts to make his visit as pleasant as possible. "Well, there's also the kind and beautiful girl who takes care of them during their stay."

Your mouth hangs open in surprise, heat rising to your cheeks and you can't help but hide your face behind your hand in hopes that your heart will slow down. Yunho chuckles and the sound sends shivers through your whole body, he keeps getting more and more attractive and you don't know how to act anymore. "W-would you like to meet Rocky now?"

"Mmh I don't know, I think Pudding and I are already inseparable." He pets the dog who has fallen asleep in his laps and you can't help but let out a small laugh, happy for the puppy to have found his new family. "Really?"

"Yup, he's my little buddy now, if that's alright of course." He scratches behind the animal's ear and looks at him dearly, you know at that moment that Yunho is perfect for Pudding. He's going to be loved and cared for like never before and you just have a feeling that he will never be sad again. "Thank you, I'm really happy for you both. All that's left is some paperwork to fill and you'll be able to take Pudding home."

You both make your way out and back into the lobby, Yunho holds the still sleeping dog in his arms and walks carefully not to wake him. You take out a small folder with a few pages document he has to fill and you wait patiently while he writes down the informations needed.

"All done!" He exclaims, keeping his voice low so he doesn't startle the small baby asleep against him, he grins at you but it disappears almost instantly, a nervous expression replacing it instead. "Will I see you again?"

"You mean here at the shelter?" You ask hoping that he wants to see you for another reason than regarding his newfound friend, you don't want to sound like a fool if you answer his question after reading his intentions wrong. He laughs, this time it's so quiet and breathy that you almost don't catch it. "No, I mean... Can I have your number or something? I want to see you again, like to get to know you- if you want to of course, if you don't, I'll respect your decision."

You hesitate, only for a second, not because you don't want to, you would without even having to think about it, but you're at work and you shouldn't be fraternizing with a client. You quickly decide that it's worth giving it a shot and if you get in trouble, you'll deal with it then. You write your number on top of the folder containing Pudding's birth certificate and other important papers and hand it to him, feeling giddy and nervous. "I'd want that too."

You both exchange one last smile and Yunho leaves with the promise of contacting you as soon as he can. You're already looking forward to seeing him again. "See you Y/N!"

💜Kang Yeosang💜

You were working as a staff member at KQ, mostly assisting everyone you could with their jobs and making their lives just a bit easier. When they found out that you have a degree in kinesiology and worked at a gym for some time, they proposed that you become a personal trainer to some of the members.

One of them being Kang Yeosang, the prettiest human you've ever laid eyes on, ateez's precious and sweet baby who is loved and recognize for his cuteness, is groaning and huffing as he works out only a few meters away from you.

You make eye contact every once in a while through the mirror and you try to make it look like you weren't just checking him out, clearing your throat and nodding before taking some notes on your pad, but deep down you know he must be aware. "I think if you move your arms a bit more sideways it'll be safer. Wouldn't want you to strain a muscle."

"Like this?" He proceeds to do as instructed and you nod with a smile, letting him continue on his own. Truth be told, Yeosang doesn't really need a trainer, but he insisted that you at least stay and watch him so you can take notes on the mistakes and help him improve.

You should keep it professional and not make him uncomfortable, but everytime he goes back to his exercises, you can swear you can see a smirk appear on his face. As if he is teasing you and enjoying your reactions, it's only adding fuel to the creeping fire in your stomach.

His muscles are bulging, almost threatening to rip his shirt with how tight it became since he started an hour ago, a big proof of his efforts. The veins on his arms and hands, a result from all the weight lifting and it's attracting your eyes like a magnet. The sweat coating his skin and making his hair stick to his forehead doesn't make him look bad in the slightest, actually it's the first time that you aren't disgusted by someone else's sweaty figure and you can't help the way your body responds to the man, who is now walking towards your smaller form and towering over you.

You don't know if you were right to agree and take the job, because in this very moment, having to be so close to him is leaving you breathless and you're scared you'll end up reacting in a way that'll make him hate you. He's searching for your eyes, trying to get your attention, but you're so deeply lost in your thoughts that you almost gasp at the feeling of his fingers on your chin. He lifts your head so you meet his gaze and arches one of his eyebrows in what you think is a mix of amusement and interest. "So did you enjoy the show?"

"W-what- are you- you're.. I. I didn't!" You can barely breathe as his overpowering aura engulfs you and it overwhelms you to the point you can't form a whole sentence. His reaction to your response is what makes you break and you try to get away from his grasp, but he only grabs you face more forcefully this time and backs you against the wall behind, almost pressing his whole body against yours. "Now I didn't take you for liar little one."

You accept your fate, his eyes boring into yours and he looks like he's about to devour you. His expression changes from lust to concern in a matter of seconds when you start to tear up, maybe from embarrassment or because everything is too much at the same time, you have no idea. "Are you ok, do you want me to stop?"

You shake your head, but a tear falls followed by your lower lip starting to tremble. Yeosang takes it as a clue to stop even though you say otherwise. He slowly releases your jaw and backs away only enough to give you some space. "Did I hurt you or scare you?"

You reassure him by shaking your head once more, reaching for his hand without realising, only to stop mid air when you do. He notices immediately and smiles sweetly at you, bending to your height slightly before he takes you in his arms, holding you close to his body. "You can touch me if you want, it's ok sweet baby."

"Now do you wanna tell me why you were crying mmh?" He asks gently, not to make you cry again and you try to regain some control over your body, taking a deep breath and thanking Yeosang for being so patient and understanding. "I.. don't know, just felt, like too much."

Hearing your words Yeosang is in dilemma, between squishing you to death from finding you so adorable or kissing you till you can't breathe anymore, but since he doesn't want to overwhelm you again he opts for a more self restrained option. "Can I kiss you?"

You barely have time to nod before his lips are on yours, the gentleness in his touch makes you relax against his chest in less then a few seconds. Your hands reaching up to tug the hair at the back of his nape which results in a deep moan coming out of his throat and you shiver at the sound. Just before it escalates, he slowly parts from you and you both can't help but smile. He pecks your lips a few times before confessing. "You don't know for how long I've been wanting to kiss you."

Maknae line

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helplesslypurple77 · 17 days ago

Text

Day 13-Car Sex-Chrollo/Reader

Notes: So guess what, turns out I wasn't getting headaches because I drink too much caffeine, it's actually because I was just undernourished!! Yay that means i can stop limiting my caffeine it was actually hell on earth. Also inspired by Blind Date by lastrisorto on Ao3 which slaps, go read it <3

Anyway enjoy, this ones gonna be a bit shorter, cause I'm tired.

.....

You didn't want to be here. The low light pours over your figure, your foot tapping against the carpeted floor with slight annoyance.

A waiter appears at your table, silent and dressed in all black.

“Are you ready to order, Miss?” He asks, smiling at you calmly. He must pity you, but be too professional to let it show. This is an expensive restaurant after all.

“Oh not yet,” You supply, hand coming up to twist your thin necklace. “I think I'll wait until my date arrives.”

“Very well.” The man says, fading away to the dark entrance to hell all the waiters had appeared from. You sigh.

You’re here because of your mother. Because she had been begging and begging you to get married, and maybe going on a blind date would finally shut her up for a moment. You loved you mom, but damn was she persistent. So when she had told you about the nice woman she had met in pilates, and that the woman had this handsome single friend and she could set you up on a blind date you had finally folded.

So here you were, dressed to the nines in a fancy restaurant staring out of the large floor length glass window, waiting for this mystery guy to arrive. You pull on the sleeve of your black slinky dress, pulling the black cardigan tighter around your shoulders. There's a bit of a draft.

It is a bit embarrassing that you folded too easily to your mother, being a powerful member of the infamous phantom troupe. But your mom was way more scary than any of your co-workers for sure. And besides, you have some free time. They don't need you right now, you can do this whole dating thing tonight before you have to meet the rest of the troupe tomorrow. It's nice that you were already in Yorknew city visiting your mom when you had received the summons.

The restaurant is very nice. Thin hard red carpet covers the floor, muffling footsteps until you can barely hear them. The room is low lit, and a Violin Quartet is situated in the corner, providing a lovely romantic atmosphere. If only this was a real date. You sigh, maybe the guy will be hot and you can get laid and go on your way home. Then at least some good can come of it.

The table before you is covered in a pure white tablecloth, occupied only by a small bread plate beside which sits a knife, spoon and fork, and a wine glass. A small candle sits in the center of the table, casting a yellow light into the rounded crystal glass.

You glance at your silver watch, eyeing the minute hand as it clicks closer and closer to seven. Maybe if he's late you can go home and tell your mom that he didn't show up and you were disappointed but there was nothing you could do—

“Excuse me, are you here for the blind date, Miss?”

Your date must be here, a few seconds from being late. His voice sounds a bit familiar, for some reason. You turn from the window, all ready to fake a smile and force a polite greeting, but the words dry up in your mouth as your eyes run up his body.

Everytings starting out promising. He's quite tall, and muscular through the fabric of his black suit. The two of you look like you're going to a funeral, you notice faintly. You start to hope that maybe, this guy will be handsome, and into you. And then you look at his face, and your jaw drops.

It's your boss. Because of course you can't have nice things. Chrollo seems a bit surprised as well, implying he didn't recognize you from behind. You would be offended, but you haven't actually been with the phantom troupe for that long. Only a bit over a year, and besides, the whole group didn't really meet up that often.

“Boss?” You hiss through gritted teeth, trying to keep your voice low. There are only a few other couples in the restaurant, but you would rather the whole room didn't know your business. “What are you doing here?”

“Don't call me that.” Chrollo says, sliding into the seat in front of you with a small fake smile. “And I could ask you the same thing.”

“I was here for a blind date,” You mutter, picking up a menu to distract yourself from the fact that your boss looks pretty good in a suit. His hair is down, too. He looks much better this way, he kind of resembles an alien with his hair slicked back. Maybe he uses too much gel.

“Correct me if I'm wrong,” Chrollo starts, and you sigh. “But you are supposed to be at the meeting tomorrow. Why are you arranging dates for yourself right before a mission, my dear?”

You flick an eyebrow at the title, and roll your eyes again. Must be sarcasm.

“I didn't arrange this for myself. And besides, I could ask you the same thing!” You hiss across the table, scanning the appetizers. “Unless you decided it was appropriate to show up to a random restaurant in a suit and hit on a random woman.”

You smirk, trying to decide what to eat. Chrollo just smiles. Infuriatingly unflappable.

“I thought it would be fun.” He says. You roll your eyes.

“You sound like Hisoka.”

“Noted,” Chrollo says, wincing slightly, “But you didn't answer my question.”

“Should I get the cob salad, or the carbonara?” You counter, hand coming up to fiddle with your necklace. “I can't decide.”

Chrollo cocks his head to the side.

“Get both.”

“Too much food.” you say, deciding on the pasta. You're not that hungry anyway. A light meal sounds good. “What are you getting?”

“Carbonara i think,” Chrollo says, fingers running the length of the menu as his eyes follow behind. “Would you like to share a bottle of wine?”

“Sure,” You say, tugging at your necklace again. “So, what's the mission?”

Chrollo raises an eyebrow into the weird headband thing he has wrapped around his forehead, covering his tattoo.

“I wasn't aware you were joining us tomorrow.” he says, faint humor hidden in his tone. You roll your eyes.

“Who said I wasn't?” You ask, turning your eyes away from your boss and out the window. The lights leak into the night, creating a lovely pattern of shining diamonds against the black silk of the night.

“You planned a date for the night before.” Chrollo says, flipping through the menu to the drink section. You hope he selects a good wine. His eyes flick up from the menu to meet your own for a moment, before he continues. “It's inappropriate for members of the spiders to have a boyfriend. One that isn't aware of your job, of course.”

You roll your eyes.

“We never had that rule.” You say, running a hand through your hair, mussing up the curls. Who cares, there's no mystery hot guy to impress and maybe fuck anymore. Chrollo’s eyes peer into your soul, trying to pry into your business. So what if you wanted to make your mom happy and maybe get some dick at the end. Chrollo doesn't get to know that.

Chrollo chuckles, eyes flicking between you and the drink menu. Back and forth, back and forth.

“It hasn't been an issue before.” He says, making eye contact with one of the waiters. She nods, and disappears into the dark archway. Probably to send out another waiter or something.

“That's an unfair rule.” You mutter, tugging at your necklace. “Why are you allowed to date, but the rest of us aren't.”

“I'm not,” Chrollo chuckles, smiling at you like you're missing something. You roll your eyes.

“Then why are you here, for a business meeting?” You questone, crossing your legs under the table, your heels hitting the center bar of the table with a small clack.

“I—”

“Are you ready to order?”

A waiter has appeared from the abyss, and has come to stand beside your table, smiling a small blank smile. You nod, ordering your cob salad and settling back against your chair.

What an odd day this is shaping up to be. On a blind date, with your boss. You half think that maybe he somehow found out that you were in yorknew city about to go on a blind date and decided to show up and ruin your fun. But he's definitely dressed for a date. He even made an effort to put on a damn shirt for once and cover the strange tattoo on his forehead. You hold back a smirk. Too bad it was just you and not some babe. If he was going to ruin your fun, you would take pleasure in ruining his date.

“You look positively devious, my dear.” Chrollo says, handing both the menus to the waiter, who disappears into the darkness. You laugh.

“This is karma for ruining my date,” You giggle, gesturing around the two of you. “Sucks it's me and not some hottie huh? Well too bad.”

You smirk, crossing your arms over your chest. Chrollo's eyes dip for just a second. You blink. You must have imagined it, the small trip Chrollo’s eyes took down to your boobs.

You're wearing a black cotton dress, with a halter neck and a bit of cleavage showing. Your arms are crossed under your boobs, pushing them up a bit. But there's no way Chrollo is checking you out. Absolutely no way. You drop your arms, pulling the small cardigan you're wearing tighter around your body. It doesn't go all the way around your chest, it was mostly to cover your arms. Chrollo coughs.

“Touche,” He says, running a hand through his hair. It looks quite soft. “You must be quite unhappy. A date with your boss is rather…”

He trails off and you laugh again, brushing your hair off your shoulder in a great sweeping movement.

“I was so surprised to see you,” You say, leaning forward a bit. “You don't seem the blind date type.”

“You as well,” Chrollo supplies, watching as the waiter returns, setting the wine bottle down on the table. “Would you like some, my dear?”

“Yes please!” You say, watching as the sparkling gold liquid foams into your cup. He's chosen a prosecco. From your limited knowledge of wine, you know that's a good wine to pair with Italian food, specifically pasta. A sweet wine, which is fine by you. You’ve always favored fruity cocktails and sweet wines.

You swirl the wine in the stem glass, taking a delicate sip. The bubbles dissolve over your tongue, the sweet fruity flavor flowing into your mouth and down your throat. You let out a little sigh of happiness.

“Good choice, this’ll pair well with the carbonara.” You say, smiling across the table as you set the win glass back down beside your almost empty place setting. Chrollo simply stares at you for a moment, his face blank. You blink.

“What? Is there something on my face?” You tilt your head, hair falling over your shoulders as you cross your arms. Chrollo's eyes dip down again, this time for a second longer. You must be seeing things.

“No, nothing.” Chrollo smiles finally, “I'm glad my choice of wine is favorable to your palate.”

You tilt your head, raising an eyebrow. He's acting kind of odd. Whatever, you giggle. You decide that you’ll just enjoy your dinner and then head home, boss or no boss. You sigh, uncrossing and re-crossing your legs. You kinda wanted to get some dick, but some carbonara and a fine wine would have to do.

“But time to talk business,” Chrollo says, his brow furrowing from under the cloth covering his tattoo. You sigh, rolling your eyes as he continues. “It's a poor idea to have a boyfriend. You're a spider.”

You roll your eyes again, taking an angry swig of the bubbly prosecco.

“I'm not getting a boyfriend, obviously.” You mutter, gesturing at Chrollo, seated across the table. “Besides, I just went on this blind date because my mom wanted me to.”

“Ah, really?” Chrollo questions, leaning backwards in his seat. He takes a small sip of wine, the liquid passing through his thin lips. “You should have turned her down.”

“She's been bugging me about getting married,” You sigh, tossing your hands dramatically into the air as you continue. “I figured going would shut her up. And maybe if the guy was hot i could get laid—”

You slap a hand over your mouth a bit too late. Chrollo smirks.

“Ah, the real reason.” He chuckles, folding his hands neatly in his lap. “You could have just been honest, my dear.”

“Oh shut up,” You mutter, taking another swig of your wine. How embarrassing. Now your boss knew you were pent up and on the hunt for just any old dick. You sigh, swirling your wine around in your glass and watching golden liquid glow in the lowlight.

“Well, I apologize for ruining your plan,” Chrollo chuckles, smiling through the steam that rises above your table as the waiter places two warm plates of carbonara down in front of each of you. You roll your eyes.

“Why did you agree to the date anyway?” You mutter, taking a bite of the pasta. It's quite good. “I told you, so it's only fair that you tell me.”

Chrollo is silent for a moment, spinning pasta around his fork delicately. You take another bite, tearing through your pasta with excitement. You were right, it does pair well with the prosecco Chrollo picked out.

“It's…been a while.” Chrollo finally mutters, eyes sliding back to yours. He stares you down blankly, as if daring you to laugh at him. You roll your eyes instead, reaching across the table to pat him roughly on the arm.

“Aw, in the same boat as me?” You giggle. Chrollo stares at the place your hand had touched blankly as you continue, “Well, unfortunately it's not a sexy lady willing to give it up for a stranger, it's just me.”

Chrollo looks at you for a moment, watching as you take the last few bites of your pasta, silent. He seems like he's waiting for you to think of something, but you're too busy taking another swig of the lovely prosecco. It really does compliment the food well.

“You know, I was quite surprised.” Chrollo starts, placing his fork beside his empty past plate. You tilt your head, as he continues. “It's not often I see you so dolled up, my dear.”

You laugh, patting your hair self consciously.

“I guess,” You say, crossing your arms over your chest again. You lean forward, tipping forward on your chair, your hair slipping forward. Chrollo’s eyes seem to dip down again, this time lingering a bit too long. You can't be imagining it.

“You too boss. You look much more handsome with your hair down.” You say, moving your arms, popping up your boobs even more. If he looks down one more time, you're gonna say something.

Chrollo runs a hand through said hair, flipping it off his covered forehead with a small smile. Your eyes follow the movement, slightly mesmerized by the tendrils of soft black hair. You want to run your fingers through it, maybe yank on it to anchor yourself.

Tonight isn't the first time you've had inappropriate thoughts about your boss. It has happened more times than you want to admit, even to yourself in your own mind. You've awoken with his name on your lips, your pussy throbbing with arousal. Youve found yourself drifting off into obscene daydreams when he speaks sometimes, or imagining him when your fucking other guys. It's embarrassing, but you may be in lust with your boss. But it's obvious he isn't attracted to you. Please, he barely tolerates you, he would never wanna fuck you, no matter how much you shove your boobs at him, across the table.

You sigh, pulling back a bit, uncrossing your arms with a sigh. Chrollo smiles a small smile across the table.

“Would you like dessert?” He asks, handing you the small card with the dessert menu printed across it. You survey the options.

“I think i'll pass.” You sigh, sitting back in your chair. “It's late.”

Chrollo nods, making eye contact with a waiter over your shoulder. You reach down, rummaging in your purse for your phone and your wallet.

It has been a nice night, a nice fantasy to add to your embarrassing lusty crush on Chrollo, but all good things must come to an end. You need to do a job tomorrow, after all. You look at your watch, noting that an hour and a half has passed. Where had the time gone. It had just slipped away, like a leaf in the wind. Maybe you had been enjoying yourself a little too much.

“Here,” you saw, waving your credit card at Chrollo. He simply raises an eyebrow delicately.

“I'll take care of it,” he says, waving off your card.

“You sure?” You ask, already stowing your card away. Better for you. Chrollo nods, shooting you a wink.

“What kind of date would this be if i let you pay,” He says, smiling softly in the lowlight. He really is quite handsome. You sigh, stowing your wallet away, safely in your purse. You smile.

“Thanks, boss!” You giggle, saluting him across the table. Chrollo just smiles at your antics. You open your phone, tapping open your driving app. It's gonna be a bit expensive, but you had assumed you would be heading home with the guys, so you hadn't driven. That was probably poor planning on your part.

“Hey Chrollo,” You ask, slipping your phone back into your purse. You put a pleading expression on your face, and push up your cleavage. It's just a joke, but you wear his eyes flick down again, before they rise to yours.

“Yes, Name?” He questions, looking a bit wary.

“Can you give me a ride?” You question, leaning forward and being as pleading as you possibly can. “I was gonna go home with a guy. So I didn't drive.”

Chrollo chuckles.

“Sure, my dear.” He says, running a hand through his hair distractingly. “But I must point out, that arent you doing exactly what you came to do?”

“What?” You ask, tilting your head in confusion.

Chrollo stands, moving like a black shadow around the table to pull your chair out for you. You watch his eyes trace you, watch them skim down your neck, take in your cleavage, caress down your curves as you stand, black fabric pooling around your knees. He takes a small breath, a tiny inhale, and then composes himself. But you’ve seen it all. You have all the evidence you need.

You arrived at this date fully prepared to get laid. And here you are, with the perfect opportunity. You smile, subtly tugging the collar of your dress a bit lower. Chrollo is smiling, a perfectly painted on smile that would fool anyone. But you know that smile. He uses it when he wants to hide something. Your grin is calculated. Each twist of your body is controlled as you turn your back to Chrollo, bending down to pick up your purse.

Your bend is controlled to show off your ass, the arch of your waist as you rise to your feet. And it works, because as you rise up with your purse in hand, you catch an unabashed expression of lust rocket across Chrollo's face. His lips are parted, a small huff of breath falling from them as his eyes zero in on your body, on the contours and dips highlighted by the slinky dress you wear. His chest rising a bit too fast. And a telling bulge in his pants.

By the time you're fully up of course he's controlled his face again. But you saw it. And now there's nothing holding you back.

♥♥♥

The windows of Chrollo's small car are already fogged up and all you're doing is making out. Well, more like eating each other's faces off in the backseat. Your bodies are pressed together, your legs splayed over his lap, your bodies thrumming together with arousal as he kisses you, as you grind down on the hard dick in his pants.

If you had told the You of earlier today that the night would end with Chrollo's tongue down your throat and dick in your pussy you would have laughed in your face. And then probably reprimanded yourself not to let those thoughts of your boss take over of course, but that's besides the point.

“We really shouldn't be doing this my dear.” Chrollo murmurs, pulling away from your mouth to press a kiss to your pulse point. You whimper, head tipping back as hair waterfalls down your back, tangling with his hands.

“Why,” You groan, moving your hips against his dick. “We’re both consenting adults.”

Chrollo rewards you with a small groan, accompanied by a heavy sigh. You moan, hitching up your skirts as you grind against him. You want him inside you so bad.

“We should not fraternize before the mission,” Chrollo murmurs, hands digging into your clothed waist as you grind down. “It's a distraction.”

You giggle, letting the sound fill the hot and muggy car.

“Do you really think anyone follows that rule?” You giggle, reaching down between your bodies to pull your panties aside. You can't get them fully off, but you can shove them aside to press a few fingers against your pussy. You whimper, head falling back as you eye him, a feral look in your eyes. “Your spiders are constantly ‘fraternizing’. Didn’t you know?”

Chrollo actually looks a bit surprised, until you yank his hand off your waist, pressing it against your drooling cunt.

“You're so wet, name.” He says, pressing a finger into your dripping cunt. “Tell me, what is all this about the spiders my dear?”

You laugh, hands gripping his still clothes shoulders as you fuck yourself against his fingers, body lith with arousal.

“Not gonna tell,” You giggle. “But if the others can fuck their colegues, you can fuck me.”

Chrollo hums, fingers twisting inside you. You moan, hands fighting with his zipper. You're a mess on his lap, your lipstick smeared on your lips, your chin. Red stains his lips, his chin, his neck. You know the stain must surround the hickeys on your neck. It turns you on.

“Come on, hurry up and fuck me damnit!” You goran, shoving your cleavage up as far as you can. Chrollo chuckles, hands withdrawing from your pussy with a squelch.

“Whatever you want, my dear.” He murmurs, undoing the zipper of his pants, allowing his dick to spring up, eager and drooling for you. You giggle, stroking it a few times. Chrollo's twitches in response, mouth parting in a small moan.

“Aww, it's so desperate.” You giggle, grinding your clit against it with a sigh. Chrollo simply bites back a moan, hands anchored on your waist. You're almost dizzy with arousal when you speak, “You got any condoms?”

“Wallet,” Chrollo murmurs, body moving against yours. You reach around, fishing in his pants pocket and pulling out the wallet with a dramatic flourish. Chrollo simply smiles at your antics, a bit preoccupied with the friction of your bodies, hidden by a pile of black fabric.

You brace yourself on his shoulders as you line up, sliding him inside you one inch at a time. Your head falls back, body twitching as you sink down. Chrollo watches you, eyes hazy and unfamiliar, smiling a bit. You kiss the stupid smile off his face as he bottoms out inside you. You grind slowly first, barely rising up at all, just moving back and forth. Chrollo presses a kiss to the space under your ear, breath heaving over your skin.

“I saw you looking at my boobs,” You moan, head falling back. Your hair waterfalls down your back as you anchor your hands on the sea behind Chrollo. His hair is wilting against his forehead, at some point he'd lost the weird bandage thing on his forehead. He smirks.

“Can you blame me?” he groans, grabbing your things and slamming you up and down. You moan loudly, the air filling with the sound of slapping and squelching. The car smells like sex and your perfume and the expensive cologne Chrollo always wears.

“Uh god, Chrollo I'm gonna cum.” You moan, body tensing as you fight back an orgasm. Chrollo chuckles.

“Oh, done already?” He groans, body tensing against yours. He's full of shit. You can feel him twitching inside you as you clench down. You can feel he's close too.

Your orgasms come in fast like a waterfall. Tossing you off the cliff violently as you cling to your boss’s shoulders, whining and begging him for something, anything. He rewards you with a few pumps in your pussy, rubbing your clit raw.

The car smells like sex when he pushes you down on the seat, when his dick still lodged inside you comes back to life, or when he smirks down at your twitching body.

You know you're in for a ride.

....

Endnotes: dude im so tired, but we're almost to the endddd. Kinktober is honestly so much fun even though it's so much work

#mariannacrxss #helplesslypurple77kinktober #hunter x hunter #hxh smut #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #chrollo smut #hxh chrollo

108 notes · View notes

bridgetotheskyyy · 2 years ago

Text

bad idea

series masterlist

chapter summary: megs is caught with his hands full

chapter warnings: nsfw, 18+ content, aged up characters, utter filth don't look @ me, masturbation, oral, facials, reader is more dominant

a/n: can someone punch ao3 for me the dreaded paragraph spaces are back 😭 I sincerely hope y'all enjoy!

read on ao3 here

This was the mother of all bad ideas.

But as Megumi crept his hand down his abdomen toward his excited cock, he couldn’t imagine it being anything but a good one.

The hotel room was quiet save for the clock tick, tick, ticking at the wall; Megumi groped his crotch and felt his hardened cock twitch in his palm —

Megumi stifled a groan, quick to undo his fly.

He was a fucking animal, but he couldn’t help it; he had mistaken his drawer for yours and had found an entire collection of your lacy panties, one after the other, and what was worse: his sinful mind’s eye had imagined you in them, your sweet cunt hugged into the underwear, squeezing your plush thighs together —

“Ah, fuck,” he couldn’t remember if he had locked the door or only closed it; the idea of you or Yuji walking in at any moment and seeing him jerking off when they should all be searching for curses was horrifying, but the fabric of those panties and the stroke of his cock were all that could occupy his brain.

Megumi stroked himself, one eye cracked open to survey the door. He felt his cheeks grow hot, breath shallow — and then hitched as he thought of your hand coming over his cock, literally in the palm of your hand.

She can come in if she wants, Megumi’s mind cottoned with desire. I don’t care.

He did care, but the feel of his hand palming his cock evaporated his shame. A part of him ached for you to creak the door open and see what you did to him. He thought of your drawer and cursed himself for not having stolen a pair just for this occasion.

Megumi felt sweat on his neck as he tightened his grip, quickened the pace. He thought of you hooking your fingers under the band of your panties, sliding them down slowly past your thighs, for him.

“A—ahh …”

If he had any pride at all, he’d stuff himself back in his trousers and help himself to a cold shower, but the thoughts of you propelled his hand. Megumi bit his lip, felt the raise of climax begin to tighten his stomach. So close …

He thought of the slick from your cunt as you removed your panties, his fingers deep in your cunt, taking them out only to taste you. Tasting you himself, licking a mixture of your cum and his off your labia —

Megumi felt his hand frantic now. He raised off the bed, curling toward his climax. His other hand gripped so tight in the sheets he was sure to tear them.

“Ah,” curse after curse spilled from his lips, climax precipicing, “ah, f — ah, shit —“

“Megumi …?”

His eyes popped open. In a flash, he retreated into the bed, covers over him.

So. He hadn’t locked the door.

Secure under the sheets, he angled his head toward the door, dread creeping over him.

You were there, hand on the door frame, looking over him with concern.

“Y — (Y/n) …”

“Are you okay?”

Actual total opposite of fine.

“I heard you it — it sounded like you might be hurt so I came to check on —“

“Fine,” he lied, turning away from you, desperate to ignore the painfully hard throbbing cock between his legs. “Just … a headache is all.”

“Hm …” he envisioned the cute head cock you must be doing right about now. “You don’t seem fine. Let me just —“

“I said I’m fine,” he pressed, tone firm, but it did nothing to still the frantic beating of his heart.

Footsteps.

“Let me just see your head, Megs.”

His crazed heartbeat was in his ears. “St — stop,” he ordered, but it was weak and knew it wouldn’t deter you.

He came to lean beside him opposite the bed and looked him over. He could imagine how he appeared; sweaty, face flushed and red, under different circumstances, sick, maybe with the flu?

It wasn’t the fucking flu.

You reached for him, pulling him backward. His hold on the sheets was awkward, and they slipped —

“Wait —!”

Too late; the sheets he had balled in his hand fell to the floor, his cock springing to life in your face.

You startled, eyes glued to his cock.

Megumi froze, save for the frantic twitching of his eye. Fuckfuckfuck —

Your expression softened, eyes never leaving his cock dangling dangerously close to your lips.

Finally, you looked up at him.

“You’re a lot bigger than I thought.”

….

What?

He couldn’t reply — was that a compliment or an insult? He didn’t know, couldn’t know; his head swam as reality turned to mush and you came forward.

“I —“

Megumi swallowed as you left a hand on his inner thigh, forcing him to spread the leg attached.

“Is this for me?” You asked innocuously. You were on your knees, literally, eyes glittering with the orange hotel lights and batting eyelashes at him.

Megumi couldn’t bring himself to speak as your breath ghosted over his cockhead.

This is a dream. No way is she going to —

Your hand fell over his cock, angled it forward. Your sweet lips began to part, your head bowing forward to take his cock into your mouth.

Oh.

You moaned, as though eating melting candy. Megumi felt the shiver of your hum tickle his spine. He opened his mouth to speak only for his voice to die at the feel of your hand coming to grasp the rest of his shaft.

You bobbed your head even farther, his cockhead hitting the back of your throat.

“Fuck …” Megumi’s head fell back. “If Yuji walks in —“

You popped his cock from your mouth to answer. “He won’t; he found the curse.”

Megumi looked down. Oh. The reasonable part of him figured they should be out there, helping him —

Instead, you’re here getting your dick sucked.

Megumi’s hand tentatively grazed your forearm with his fingers as you took him in your mouth again.

“So you say …” he murmured, concern lingering.

Again, he left your mouth.

“If he walks in,” You began before flicking his tip, “he can watch.”

He clutched the sheets as you worked your mouth on him. He felt you hollow your cheeks and his legs weakened at the feel of your sweet, pillowy mouth around his cock. He felt the hotel sheets tear in his grip as the ghost of your teeth grazed against the skin of his shaft —

“(Y/n), fuck —“ he choked.

You popped him from your mouth. He eyed you, leaving his cockhead on the cushion of your lips.

“You taste a lot better, too,” You said.

You jerked him, opening your mouth, waiting for his cum to coat your pink tongue. Fuck. He shuddered at the sight, climax rising dangerously up his spine —

That was when he pulled himself away from you.

“Megs?” You said, surprised.

He gripped your arm and pulled you into bed, switching positions with you.

“No,” he murmured, feeling braver, hands lifting your skirt up your thighs, eyeing the hot pink of your panties. “Not yet …”

He didn’t know why he stopped you; maybe it was because he wanted your pussy in his mouth. Or maybe he was a sick fuck who liked to edge himself, whatever the case, his mouth ran dry at the sight of the slick wet spot blossomed at the cup of your panties.

“Megs …” You moaned.

He hooked his fingers and pulled them down. “I want to taste you first …”

He wrestled your panties from your legs, then wrestled with the idea of stuffing them in his pocket for later, before you parted your legs for him with a soft moan.

Megumi settled his hands where the fat came to rest at your hips, hooked his hands there and scooted you toward the edge of the bed, toward his mouth. His breath inches from your cunt sent you trembling in his grip before he gave an experimental lick at your folds.

You mewled, hands tangling in his hair, fingers massaging his scalp. He moaned in your cunt, your juices coating his tongue.

“Megumi …” You moaned, tugging his head closer.

He poked his tongue and felt the gush of juices hit his tongue. His hand reached up to thumb at your clit. Fuck, if you only knew how long he’d wanted to do this to you, how obsessed he was with the idea of your cunt, how thoughts of it had sent his hand clinging to his cock.

His nose brushed against your cunt as you brought him closer. He closed his eyes, focusing solely on how his tongue ventured into your folds. His cock stood painfully hard, a string of precum seeping onto the hotel carpet.

A low groan escaped Megumi’s throat as he substituted his thumb for two fingers flicking at your clit sideways —

He heard you gasp from above before you shoved his face into your cunt.

“Oh, Megumi, I — fuck, oh!”

Megumi held on tighter, eyes rolling back as you suffocated him with your twat. Too much … he reached for his cock, fisting it all while desperate to burn this moment into his memory.

Plunging his tongue into your depths he earned low purrs from you.

“I — I hear you, Megs,” You said between desperate breaths. “I hear you je — jerking off. Don’t you dare, I — want it in my mouth! — Megumi …!”

The way you said his name —

His groan sounded from deep within him as he used all his strength as a fucking sorcerer to tear his hand away and focus only on your drooling cunt. In a fit of thinly-veiled revenge, he pinched your clit between his fingers.

“Aa— aha!” You trapped his head between your thighs. “You like this? Like drowning in my cunt — aah!”

You have no fucking idea.

He wanted to stay like that forever, head buried in your pussy. Your legs began to tremble, your back cat-arching off the mattress, moans growing higher-pitched as he worked he trapped your clit between his fingers and left it victim to his tongue.

“Megumi!”

He felt your pussy clench and convulse against his mouth, delighted in the way your juices glazed his lips and tongue. He drank your orgasm, wished he could save your water and put it on his breakfast every morning.

Your hands lost themselves in the spike of his hair as you rocked against him. He was determined to let you ride your orgasm out on his face, convinced he had a face for just this purpose.

A few desperate, victimized “oh, oh, ohs” escaped your lips before you began to relax, convulsions coming less frequently. You looked up at him.

He licked his lips.

“Get up here,” You ordered. “S’ your turn.”

He abandoned your legs, more animal than man as he gripped his cock, and positioned it before your face. You opened your mouth for him, your tongue a canvas for his cum to paint —

“God, fuc — fuck …!” Megumi furrowed his brows, fought to keep eyes open — because no way would he miss this — as he spilled over your eager tongue.

Your eyes fluttered closed as his cum splattered into your mouth.

“Fuck — (Y/n), I —“ the climax killed his voice. Megumi couldn’t control his hand moving frantically over his cock, draining himself over your face.

Cum dripped from your lips as you looked up at him, a soft, cum-painted smirk coming over your face.

Megumi blushed. “I’m — I’m sorry —“

You tilted your head in disbelief, smiling up at him. “For what?” Fingers came to scoop up his seed from your lips and into your mouth. “S’ what I asked for, after all.”

He swallowed. “Mm …”

Your eyes trailed down to his cock. He followed you — and was almost embarrassed. Figures. His cock stood to attention; your very existence made him hard, but covered in his cum? It wouldn’t have been long before his cock had come back to life, ready again.

You had sparkles in your eyes. “C’mon, we probably don’t have much longer.”

You scooted toward the top of the bed, head on the pillows. He followed you, hands groping everywhere. The two of you were still mostly dressed, yet his cock twitched at the soft squeeze his palm gave to one of your tits.

“Mm …” You purred.

He bucked into you, causing you to gasp. His hand fell on the side of your head, and when you looked up at him he leaned forward, kissing you fervently.

“Mm …” Megumi breathed. “Can taste myself …”

And you on him and he on you. Fuuuck. You nibbled on him, your hands flat against his back as he ground into you.

He trailed to your jaw. He felt your nipple harden under his palm.

“Aah! Megs, stop —“

You rocked back into him —

“— teasing.”

He groaned, sitting up to grip his cock. He lifted the hem of your skirt, positioned against your entrance — a sigh of unison sounding between the two of you as he slid into you.

The grip of your cunt sent him reeling. He came back down on your lips. A part of him wanted you on top, to ride him as you drained his cock and any remaining dignity he had, but you felt too good for him to even consider doing anything but thrusting inside your hot welcoming pussy —

His hips slapped you into the mattress, his hand already going to that abused clit he loved so much. You turned your head, teeth biting into the pillow, nails biting into his shoulder blades as he fucked you how he always wanted, hard and fast and —

“C’mon, Megs,” You rasped out. “Fuck me, you can cum inside me, wherever you want — you already know that — oh!”

“Fuck …” he hissed. You were trying to drain the cum from his cock again already.

He tore your shirt, revealing the lace of your bra. He yanked it away and assaulted your nipple with his mouth, sucking intently.

“Mm — aah!” Your moans mingled with the slap of his hips against you.

He growled, feeling it again. Next time, you were definitely riding him, tits bouncing in his face, cunt slamming down on him. Even in the midst of fucking you he still dreamt of fucking you. Pathetic.

He slathered your nipple with his tongue, rolling your clit around in his fingers.

“Meg — oh — fuck —“ You gasped out as his pace turned wild.

He felt you clench around him and wrap your legs around his waist to bring him closer. He bit into your neck hard. The swirl of your wet cunt surrounding his cock was like nothing else in the world —

“I’m —“ he choked.

“Please, Megumi,” your tongue swirled around his earlobe. “Please …”

That was it; a few more hard thrusts and he buried himself inside you, cum spilling into you. He buried himself in your neck as you pressed yourself into him, pussy milking him.

Megumi rose away from you. With great pains, he pulled his cock away, watching as his cum pooled from your cunt onto the sheets. He scooped it before shoving his release back in with his fingers.

“Oh …”

He sat on top of you, spent, the sweat of your bodies sticking the two of you together. You pulled him forward and he butterflied kisses over your neck and jaw, relishing in the soft bloom of hickeys beginning to be born on your skin.

“Mmm …” You purred at his attention.

He made it to the other side of your face before something caught his eye.

He reached forward, cock still sheathed in you. His cheeks reddened as your panties draped around his shoulders.

“Can I keep these?”

You snorted. “What?”

“Who knows when we’ll be able to do this again,” Megumi said, eyeing the undergarment shrouding his fingers like a museum piece. Then he witnessed the way you were staring at him and shrugged. “I’d like them for myself.”

You shook your head at him. “It’s always the quiet ones,” then waved him off. “Sure, whatever, do what you want.”

The two of you jerked at the sound of a faraway door closing.

“I’m back!” Yuji’s voice carried through the hotel room. “Didn’t miss anything interesting, did I?”

#megumi smut #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro x you #megumi x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #megumi x y/n #megumi x you

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simonisferal · 11 days ago

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not you again! “scaramouche x male reader”

ep. fourteen — it might be the paranoia coming in but i hear the cops 📖

warnings: angst, literally ONE cuss word, uhh chicken butt /joke

notes: fairly short because it was gonna be a filler chapter 👨‍💻<- me writing this fr

500 words

The cellar was quiet. Too quiet.

It was a deafening silence; it made you shudder. Your throat was seemingly dry, a small fire in the pit of your stomach.

He was staring, wide eyed with his jaw slightly dropped. It was a funny expression—you’d laugh at it if it weren’t for the confession you practically just gave him.

You bit your lip, looking away and stuffing your hands in your pockets.

You wanted him to say something.

Anything would be fine, really, but you didn’t like the soundless manor.

You’d take anything at this point.

Scaramouche couldn’t help the audible gulp that broke the silence. He closed his mouth and mirrored your actions subconsciously, looking away from you.

Some might say hearing the love of your life, whether you know it or not, confess their ‘feelings’ is the best thing in the world. They obviously haven’t met you two.

It was a hard topic to discuss.

He had been emotionally closed off for so long until you came—and then you left and he closed the gates again, this time with a bolted lock. He had given you the damned key and you kept it, even after everything.

It was a faint murmur, something no one couldn’t have heard, but then again, you could hear his voice if you were deaf and he were mute all the same. ”You’re insufferable, you know that?”

He rubbed his temples as if just thinking about your words gave him a headache. Even annoyed and under terrible yellow lighting, he looked good.

”You’re going to be the death of me one day. How—wha—why did you even say that?” He glared at you. His eyes were sharp but timid and the subdued wrinkle near his mouth, as if holding back a frown, was somehow obvious.

You felt lightheaded. Maybe it was because you were finally having a real conversation with him, not just some plain insults or petty arguing or the alcohol and edible you keep forgetting you consumed was finally taking a toll on you. ”I didn’t mean it.”

”Did you mean it back then?” He asked. His feet shuffled under him and he took a small step towards you.

You can’t look at him, the thoughts of your previous relationship with him being a little too much to handle with him near. “I did.

I loved you.”

The tight feeling in your chest didn’t go away and neither did Scaramouche’s lingering look.

He shifted his weight onto his left leg, the wooden floorboards slightly creaked. He had began fidgeting with his nails, cleaning the non-existent dirt to occupy his thoughts.

“Past tense?”

There was a bit of hesitation before you spoke. ”Past tense.”

The awkward silence was no more, instead it was filled with a bittersweet touch that only he could manage to bring out of you.

Only then did you two notice that the upstairs music had stopped. There was a faint sound of an alarm, much like a ‘wee woo’.

The quietness suddenly turned into a rushed and unexpected scream, muffled by the floorboards.

”Fuck! The cops!”

masterlist — prev — next

taglist: @furiscara, @fisbred, @shutingstar, @terapung, @scaradooche,

@yangbbokari, @swivy123, @featuredtofu, @pookiemax, @academiq,

@notrsz, @mercy-not-merci, @kiekole, @pwaap, @vxcmx,

@heusalettle, @khisuko, @neversore, @liuaneee, @popcorn-milk,

@vamxpi, @yourfavoritefreakyhan, @b2tr09, @ell1e2010, @moonslie04,

@allaboutiknowthatyoubeingdead, @somnium-kiss, @crxwned-mxnarch, @jad3-n, @emptydinner-plate

@alicerosejane, @khsuvy

#📖; not you again!#wanderer #genshin impact #genshin #wanderer x reader #wanderer x male reader #genshin x reader #genshin x male reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x male reader #wanderer smau #scaramouche smau #genshin smau #genshin impact smau #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x male reader #simon.txt

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milliesfishes · 6 months ago

Text

౨ৎ꣑ৎThe Ocean౨ৎ꣑ৎ

[fem reader] contains: academic rivals to lovers, mentions of drowning, misogyny pairing: young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader summary: coriolanus snow and you have been competing for the academy's top spot for a long time, and when you're paired up for a group project, he's certain it'll be disastrous. but when he finds he misjudged his pretty rival, he wonders if he ever hated you at all. author’s note: this one's been bouncing around in my head for a long time, hope you like it! Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

There is nothing Coriolanus Snow despised more than group projects.

He much preferred to work solo, unburdened by another person's input. Being by himself, working on an assignment in a way he knew would get him a good grade was pure bliss.

But Professor Cicero just had to assign partners.

And she just had to pair him up with you.

He despised you, with your rich, high up family and your charm and your effortless good grades. You and him had been vying for the top spot in your class for years. It was infuriating how perfect you were, how everyone seemed to love you.

Now, sitting at your desk in the grand house you occupied with your aunt, he decided to grit his teeth and get through it. You were lying on your back on your bed, head hanging over the edge, hair touching the floor the guidelines for the project: an oral presentation and individual essays on the importance of the Hunger Games.

You were in a pretty little white sundress and he was still in his Academy uniform, not having had the time to go home and change. Another reason to be infuriated at you- the luxuries you had that he did not.

"Are you going to take this seriously?" Coriolanus huffed, crossing his arms as he watched you read. Your relaxed demeanor annoyed him- this project was important.

"Just give me a minute," you said, not taking your eyes off the paper. "I want to make sure I understand this correctly."

"What is there to understand?" He looked down at his shoes, impatiently waiting for you do be done. "It seemed straightforward to me."

"Okay, okay," you laughed a little, rolling over onto your stomach and setting the paper to the side, your eyes fixed on him now. "Since you've clearly been thinking about it for awhile, what do you think we should be writing about?"

He sat up straight in his chair. Finally, he'd be able to take charge. "The Games' purpose is to punish the districts for the actions of the rebels. We should spend the bulk of the assignment talking about that."

You bit your lip, eyes cast to the side as you thought about it, nodding. "...Yeah. Yeah that's good."

Coriolanus recognized your slight skepticism, and he scowled lightly. "What, that isn't good enough for you?"

"No, no it's good!" you clarified, smiling a little and nodding quickly to punctuate. "It's just...it's a little textbook, don't you think?"

He stared at you for a moment, astonished that you'd dared to contradict him. He'd never had a partner call him out on any of his ideas before, but then again he'd never been paired up with you.

The worst part of it all was that you looked so innocent, looking up at him with those big doe eyes. The earnestness of your expression caught him off guard.

Coriolanus gave you a sharp look. "And did you have a better idea?"

You tilted your head to the side, looking away for a moment as you thought. "Well, if we want to get a good grade, we need to play to Professor Cicero's interests. And one thing I know for sure about her is how much she enjoys perspectives that are a little bit twisted."

"I've just done that with my idea," Coriolanus argued, annoyance building up. "The idea of punishment is one she touches on a lot in her lectures."

"But it's overused," you said calmly. "I'd bet every other group is going to do the same thing."

"Because it's literally the point of the Games," Coriolanus sighed, rubbing his temple. He could feel a headache coming on.

"We don't have to word it like that though," you said, sitting up fully, your knees tucked underneath you.

"So what do you suggest we do?" he asked sarcastically. He was prepared to scoff at whatever your better, more complex idea was.

You were quiet for a minute, and he could practically hear you thinking. Then you fixed your bright blue stare back on him. "I say we talk about how the Games benefit the Capitol, particularly the government. It's like you said, they're to punish the districts, but how exactly?"

Coriolanus raised an eyebrow, not admitting he was a little intrigued.

"The Games strip away the tributes' humanity," you continued, leaning back on your hands. "They show the most raw, primal form of human being. The Capitol does that on purpose. It's meant to show everyone watching what they would be without the government. Hungry, helpless murderers. And it scares the districts into submission, whether they realize it or not. It's basic socio-political ethics, really."

...

He was floored. All this had come from you? And you'd said it so casually, so thoughtfully that it'd come off as modest. He was still staring at you, but now it was for a different reason. Coriolanus was in awe.

Of course he'd always known you were smart, but he didn't know you were this smart. This wasn't regurgitated notes or passages, this was a true, thought out idea.

"Coriolanus?" you tilted your head, moving so your legs were hanging over the side of the bed. "Are you okay?"

He'd been in a daze, but he snapped out of it. "I'm fine."

"What do you think?" You almost looked nervous. It was almost laughable to him that you were worried your brilliant idea would fall flat with him. It was cute, really.

He cursed himself for thinking that last part.

"It's good," he said, keeping his tone even. "Let's use it."

"Really?" A smile broke across your face like the sun breaking through the clouds, and he couldn't help the corners of his mouth quirking up slightly at how happy you seemed that he'd liked it.

"Really," he nodded, squashing the smile away. "It's...it's good."

You bounced a little in your seat, and there was another thing he couldn't help- how adorable he found you.

Suddenly he was noticing all sorts of things about you. The way your hair fell like a curtain on your cheeks when you leaned forward. Your white dress hem riding up centimeters on your smooth thighs, making your legs look long and slender.

Now he was imagining how they would feel wrapped around him. And now he was angry at himself.

"Right. Should we start writing the essay portion?" Coriolanus cleared his throat and asked.

"Sure," you said, reaching for your notebook and pen. His eyes lingered on you a little longer before he turned to face the desk and started to write.

The entire time he was distracted. His opinions were unraveling and reforming into different things. He'd thought you pretentious, but you were clever. And now he was wondering if the rivalry between the two of you was ever even a rivalry at all. Now that he thought about it, you'd certainly never treated him like it was. Your naturally sweet personality had held true during every interaction you'd had with him.

So it hadn't been a rivalry, he realized. Only petty jealousy on his part. And now that he thought about it, attraction.

Coriolanus' paper was becoming increasingly un-well written as he couldn't take his mind off you. His word usage was sloppy, and his thoughts were hardly articulate. Oh well, he thought. It was still better than what some of his borderline illiterate classmates would turn in.

He heard you sit up, and your soft footsteps came up behind him. He could smell your perfume, a familiar scent he'd never found arousing before.

"Are you almost done?" you asked sweetly.

"Ah, yes. Yes I'm finished," Coriolanus said, hurriedly sitting up and shuffling his papers.

You leaned against the desk and he looked at you, finding you angelic as you bit your lip. "Will you read mine? I want to make sure it's good enough."

He nodded, the scent of you putting his head in a spin. He couldn't have said no to you even if he'd wanted to.

You handed the paper over to him, and he read it, his mind able to think clearly when he was reading your words.

It was incredible. No other word for it. The way you wrote was poetic, but it also held the hand of logic, keeping the topic (your brilliant idea) the main focus. It was an essay for artists. Normally he'd find it ridiculous but there was something about knowing you'd written it that made it perfect.

Coriolanus didn't want to articulate this to you, so he simply handed the paper back to you. "It's...it's good."

His words were simple, but she smiled even wider. "You think so?"

"Of course," he said, lips twitching again. "You're a talented writer."

He was itching to be the cause of that smile, and it worked. You lit up immediately. "Thank you Coriolanus."

You stood up straight, but he didn't want you to leave his side. "Will you read mine?"

Nodding eagerly, you took the papers from in front of him. He semi-regretted the decision to ask you to read it because this paper was not his best work, but he figured it would be fine.

Your face was serene as you read, the little smile you'd acquired not leaving. Shifting where you were standing, you absentmindedly shifted toward him, and before he knew it you were in his lap, sitting across his thighs.

His breath hitched, but you didn't notice, continuing your reading. You shifted comfortably in his lap, and looked up at him as you finished the paper, smiling. It seemed to him all you ever did was smile, and he didn't mind it one bit.

"I like it," you said honestly, searching his eyes. "Professor Cicero will definitely love it."

"I don't know about that," Coriolanus laughed lightly.

"She likes everything you do," you smiled again, nudging his shoulder. "It's me she has a problem with."

"That's not true," he said automatically, but as he thought about it, he knew it was. Professor Cicero's favoritism of him was one of the ways he'd been able to feel triumph over her over the years. Here was the one teacher who hadn't fallen for her charm. But now he mourned it.

"She doesn't like anything I do," you shrugged. "But maybe with you as my partner she will." That last hint of optimism seemed to cheer you up a bit. You got off his lap and he wished you'd stayed.

"Perhaps," Coriolanus mused, thinking about it.

His thoughts were interrupted by your bedroom door opening. Your aunt stuck her head in, smiling at him before addressing you. "Dearest, Felix is here to see you."

Coriolanus went into defense. Felix? Felix Ravinstill? The most pretentious, stuck-up snob in their grade was here to see you?

You thanked your aunt and she left, shutting the door behind her. Now you were smoothing your dress, tucking your hair behind your ears. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. You were primping yourself to go visit with Felix Ravinstill?

"Felix Ravinstill?" he inquired politely, trying to quell the raging jealousy within him.

You gave him a sheepish half smile. "Yeah. He comes to see me a couple times a week."

Under normal circumstances he wouldn't have cared. He might've even secretly triumphed that his two least favorite people were taking each other off the market. But now he was disturbed by the idea.

"Are you...together?" he asked, hating that he sounded interested.

"No," you laughed a bit. "Not in the slightest. He'll probably move on to some other girl soon. I just entertain to be polite."

Coriolanus doubted it. Even when he'd hated you he'd known you were the most sought-after girl in your class. Festus was one who liked to have the best, and he likely wouldn't stop until you were his.

"Ah," he pretended to be okay with it.

"I'd better get down there," you said apologetically. "You're welcome to stay as long as you'd like."

"No, I'd better head home," Coriolanus said, standing up and putting his things in his bag. He didn't want to stay up here while you were downstairs chatting with Felix Ravinstill.

"I'll walk you out," you offered, and he followed you out the door.

You walked gracefully, holding the banister with one hand and the other holding your skirt. "I think it'll go well. Our presentation."

He agreed. "It will."

"Tomorrow if we just go through the basic points I think we'll get a good grade," you said as the two of you stopped at the front doors. "That and our essays will impress Professor Cicero, I just know it."

Your enthusiasm only made you more endearing to him. He gave you a quick smile and nodded, trying to maintain the cool demeanor that was slipping more every second he spent with you. "I believe it."

The two of you shared a look. You were smiling sweetly. His lips were parted slightly, hand on the strap of his satchel. In that moment he felt so...strongly towards you. It was like a magnet, an unstoppable natural force that called him to you...

But he couldn't act on it. Not now.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said quietly, giving you a quick smile.

"You got it," you said, nudging his shoulder. And then you were gone. Off into the sitting room where Felix was waiting for the privilege of your company.

He breathed easy once he was out the door. You had a strange effect on him, one in which he felt confused, but he also liked it. You were effervescent, nearly magical to him.

Coriolanus took in a breath, then started on his way home. He was going to shut the door to his room and read whatever love poetry he could get his hands on, in the hopes one of them could make him smile like you did.

The next day, you were shaky with nerves.

Coriolanus had never seen you like this. You were always such a ray of sunshine, so excited to even exist, it seemed. But today your knee was bouncing up and down, your lip was pinched between your teeth, and your fists squeezed tight.

The presentations dragged through the class period. The two of you were set to go last, and Coriolanus both praised and cursed Professor Cicero for that. Yours was set to be the best presentation, but it also meant your nerves were going to stew the longer you waited.

As another pair started their oral report, Coriolanus reached out and took your hand, squeezing it softly. Almost immediately, your body went still. You looked up at him, with that irresistible doe eyed gaze, and he melted.

"It's okay," he murmured, squeezing your hand. It was like someone else had taken residency in his brain. This gesture felt so out of character, but so right. To be here, comforting you... he found there was nowhere he'd rather be.

A little smile came to your face. You looked surprised, but you didn't push him away. He held your hand through this presentation, and the next. And then it was your turn.

You let go of his hand, and he reluctantly stood up, following you to the front of the room, setting yourselves under the judgmental gaze of Professor Cicero.

She nodded, the signal to begin. Coriolanus watched you take a deep breath and start to speak.

He marveled at your skill. You had been so nervous before, but nobody would have known it. Your voice was clear, your words eloquent. You spoke in the same way you wrote, he noticed. Poetic and pleasing to the ear, but not without point.

Coriolanus contributed his part as well, but his mind was far from the project. Him from yesterday would have kicked him, but he didn't care. He was completely and utterly captivated by you.

The presentation concluded, and you both turned to Professor Cicero for evaluation. He watched you hold your breath nervously.

"An excellent presentation," Professor Cicero assessed, giving you both a nod.

Your smile lit up your face, and you fidgeted with your hands excitedly. Coriolanus wanted to pull you into him and kiss you senseless.

Professor Cicero rifled through the papers of your essays, then looked up again. "The ideas presented are unique. A fresh take on the purpose of the Games."

Your excitement was growing, as was Coriolanus' need to hold you. He tried to gather himself. "Thank you, Professor Cicero."

"This was clearly well thought out," Professor Cicero continued, setting the papers down. She looked at him. "Mr. Snow? Were these your ideas?"

He froze. You turned to him expectantly, that little smile on your face. And before he knew it, the automatic academic instinct in him took over and the words were flying out of his mouth. "Yes. They were mine."

Instantly, a wave of regret washed over him. Your face fell, the smile completely disappearing from your face.

Professor Cicero took no notice, dismissing them to sit down. He kept his eyes on you, mind racing. Oh he'd really done it now. He'd gone and ruined everything.

As the both of you sat down, he barely heard Professor Cicero's closing remarks, unable to tear his gaze away from you. You sat up straight, eyes determinedly focused on the front of the class.

Professor Cicero dismissed the class, and you stood up instantly, leaving before he could say a word. Coriolanus picked up his bag and moved to follow you, but a voice called from the front of the class.

"Mr. Snow?" Professor Cicero beckoned. "A word?"

Oh no. She'd found him out. She knew he'd taken credit from you. He walked slowly to her desk, like he was marching to his death.

"I just wanted to tell you again what a wonderful presentation you gave today," Professor Cicero smiled, folding her arms on the desk. "You always do a wonderful job in my class, but the thoughts you presented were exceptional."

"Thank you," he said, a little stiffly. The guilt was festering inside him.

"And being paired with Miss Kennedy?" Professor Cicero referred to you. "How did that go?"

"It was...it was good," he confirmed, thinking about the time you'd spent together yesterday and feeling the smallest of smiles come to him. "She's a good partner."

"I'm glad you were able to keep her in check," Professor Cicero nodded. "Miss Kennedy is an accomplished student, to be sure, but her ideas can be a bit...radical. I thought it best for the two of you to be paired up so you could ground her a little."

He was floored, his eyes widening a little. "I wouldn't say radical. She's brilliant."

"For someone of her status, I suppose," Professor Cicero leaned back in her seat. "But girls like her aren't meant to be scholars."

Girls like her...radical...oh no.

He felt dazed and upset. Professor Cicero's prejudice against you hadn't been exaggerated.

"Anyway, an excellent job once again," Professor Cicero said casually, waving her hand as if she hadn't just brazenly insulted the smartest girl in school. "You're dismissed."

Coriolanus left the room feeling worse than he had before. There was a heroic amount of guilt blocking out his other senses. He couldn't believe what he'd just heard, what he'd done.

He spotted you at the end of the hall, speaking with another boy in your class. You looked so beautiful, the afternoon sun spilling through the windows and lighting up your silhouette. The boy you were talking to patted your shoulder and left. You turned around to start walking, but then spotted Coriolanus.

Standing there for a second, he wondered how he should apologize. Groveling maybe? But before he could approach you, you turned on your heel and left, heading out the double doors of the school.

He didn't think about it, he just followed you, briskly walking in the same direction and nearly sprinting down the stairs to catch up.

You must have heard him, but you ignored him, keeping your pace. Coriolanus managed to catch up, nearly out of breath. "Can I explain-?"

"What is there to explain?" you kept your eyes straight ahead.

"I want to apologize," he tried, wanting you to stop, but you didn't.

"For what? For stealing my credit?" you clutched the strap of your bag, trying to walk ahead. "I'd rather not hear it."

"I shouldn't have done that," he murmured.

"No, you shouldn't have," you turned a corner.

Coriolanus followed you. "I acted impulsively-"

"You did, didn't you?" Suddenly you stopped, turning to face him. "You stole my ideas, after I told you that Professor Cicero doesn't take me seriously. You knew that and you did it anyways."

He was silent, letting your words sink in.

You took a step toward him. "What did she say to you? Professor Cicero. I heard her call you back."

His lips parted, surprised. He didn't want to tell you.

"What did she say Coriolanus?" you insisted, your tone firmer than he'd ever heard it.

"She said we did a great job," he said honestly, withholding the rest.

"What else?" you questioned. He cursed your intellect.

"She...said she was glad I was able to keep you in check," he said reluctantly.

You nodded, looking down, your expression hurt, but not surprised. "Let me guess. She said something about how my work is usually far-fetched, and it's probably the best a girl with my background can do."

He was silent, but you must have gathered that you were correct from his expression, because you nodded once, looking like you were about to cry, and turned away, folding your arms over yourself.

Coriolanus felt horrible. He ached to take you into his arms and comfort you for the cruel words Professor Cicero had wrongfully directed at you.

"My ideas are too radical until you have them, is that it?" you said softly.

"Please-" he started.

"The worst part is, you didn't even need to do it," you turned to look at him, and his heart broke. There were tears in your eyes, a stark contrast to how he'd ever seen you before. "What you contributed was good. It would have gotten you the same grade. But you just had to steal what I did."

Every word of what you'd said was correct. You'd always had a gift for hitting things right on the nose. Even though he knew he'd messed up, let his idea of a rivalry ruin things, he wanted to make it right.

"I'm sorry," he said, his words earnest.

You pursed your lips, looking at your shoes, still on the verge of tears. He knew it wasn't enough, but it was a start.

"Let me walk you home," he offered, taking a step toward you.

You inhaled softly. "I'm not going home." Looking back up at him, your other hand found the strap of your bag. "I'll see you later."

He frowned a bit as you started walking, hurrying to catch up. "Where are you going?"

"It doesn't matter," you said briskly, turning another corner, down an alleyway. Coriolanus hadn't realized you'd were walking at the edge of the city until he saw the line of trees. You were headed for the woods.

"Wait, where are you going?" Coriolanus called, hurrying along beside you. You both crossed the border, stepping from concrete to grass.

"You don't need to follow me," you said, following the forest path.

He trailed behind you, concern growing by the second. "It's not safe out here. There are rebels in the woods."

"I've never come across any," you said simply, ducking under a tree branch.

"You've been out here before?" he questioned in disbelief.

"Yes," you moved gracefully through a patch of grass.

He paused for a second, trying to let that information make sense to him. When it didn't, he continued on, eyeing the gray sky. "It's about to rain."

You stopped, turning to him. "You don't need to follow me. I'm fine."

"It's not safe," he insisted as a raindrop fell on his cheek.

"Go home, Coriolanus," you sighed, turning away and continuing your walk. You ventured off the path, into a patch of trees.

"You can't just go off into the woods by yourself," he huffed, not listening to you. The rain was falling steadily now, and the two of you were quickly getting soaked. He didn't know how far into the woods you were, but it was certainly nowhere near the city.

"You don't say?" you said sarcastically.

"Will you just-" he grabbed your arm, pulling you to turn around. It was pouring rain. Your clothes and hair were soaked, as were his. You looked angelic. The sight of you made him forget what he had originally intended to say.

You stared at him, not pulling your arm away. He looked sincere, worried about you.

"The place I go isn't too far from here," you said quietly. "We can dry off and warm up there."

He pursed his lips and nodded. It wasn't like he knew how to get back from here anyway.

You led him through the grove, parting the leaves of a willow to reveal a little cottage tucked between the trees. He grew more confused by the minute.

"Where are we?" he asked, studying the cottage. It was small, but charming, obviously well kept.

Not answering, you ran your hands along the cracks of the cobblestones, seemingly searching for something. At last, you pulled a key out, unlocking the door. You went inside, leaving it open. Coriolanus hesitantly peered inside, seeing you kneel at a little fireplace, striking a match.

Holding up the little burning stick, you turned your head to face him briefly. "Are you coming?"

He remembered himself, coming inside and shutting the door behind him, setting his school bag beside yours. The cottage only had one room, lined with cabinets on one end and bookshelves on the other. The fireplace you were kneeling at was situated in the center of the room.

Cautiously, Coriolanus knelt beside you. You took off your jacket, folding it neatly to the side. Then you started to unbutton your shirt, and he tilted his head. "What are you doing?"

"We'll catch cold if we stay in our wet clothes," you said, sliding your shirt over your shoulders. He felt his breath quicken at the sight of your bra, a modest, white thing edged with lace, a tiny bow in the middle. You didn't seem to notice this, nodding at him. "Go on, take them off. We can let them dry for awhile."

He'd forgotten how kind you were. Even in your anger with him you were concerned for his well-being. With that thought in mind, Coriolanus stripped himself of his clothes, folding them beside yours. Your underwear matched your bra.

You warmed your hands by the fire, shivering. He noticed your damp skin, your wet hair sticking to your shoulders and back. Coriolanus himself was cold, but he was warming up quickly. You on the other hand were shaking, your body not retaining much heat.

He pursed his lips, then opened his arms. "Come here."

You looked over at him, brow furrowing. "What?"

"You'll get warmer faster," he insisted, knowing this to be true, but also secretly giddy at the idea of holding you.

Shaking your head, you looked back at the fire. "I couldn't, I-"

"Please," he said softly, eyes earnest as he looked at you. "I know you're still upset, but I don't want you to freeze."

Sighing, you looked down, considering. Another cold shudder shaking your body made the decision for you. Reluctantly, you crawled closer to him, and he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to him. His skin was warm, and you couldn't help leaning into him. It was simply too cold, and he was being too kind.

"Better?" he murmured, resting his chin on your head.

"Yes," you admitted. Your hand found a place on his chest as you settled against him. Coriolanus hesitantly moved his hand up to the back of your head, pressing your cheek to his shoulder. You welcomed the change, sighing softly as his body warmed you right up.

He debated saying something, then decided for it. "I...I am sorry. Truly. For what I did. It is inexcusable, as you said. You confided in me and I wasn't sensitive to it."

You were quiet during his apology, and you looked up at him, chin on his shoulder. Your eyes were soft, and you just looked at him for a moment before the corners of your mouth lifted just slightly. "Thank you for apologizing."

"Don't thank me for anything," he murmured, holding your gaze. "I've been cold to you for so long, and you didn't even do anything wrong."

"I understand feeling threatened," you said, lifting your chin from his shoulder. "But it still hurt. Especially when..." you trailed off, looking down. "I thought we were friends. Since yesterday, anyways."

"Right," he murmured, looking down. He tried to ignore his feelings, but having you pressed right against him in this state of undress made things hard. "I suppose I always felt...threatened, in a way by you. Things always seemed to come so naturally to you, especially academically. I fooled myself into thinking we had a rivalry."

"I don't know if I ever thought of it that way," you leaned your head on his shoulder once again. "I just knew you did as well as I did."

"In school perhaps," he mused, resting his head against yours. "But it's not just that. You're successful in the Capitol's social graces as well."

"Well, that has not always come so easily," you laughed a little.

"What do you mean?" Coriolanus secured his arm around your shoulders, keeping you close as you warmed up. "You've been doing this for most of your life, haven't you?"

You shook your head, and he looked down at you. "You haven't?"

"I didn't live in the Capitol my whole life," you said, meeting his eyes. "Moved here when I was...oh I must have been eleven or so."

"Ah." He hadn't known that. "And where did you live before then?"

"Not terribly far from here. It was by the ocean." You turned your head to look into the fire. "My favorite place."

"You lived there with your...aunt?" Coriolanus guessed, remembering the older lady from the day before.

"With my parents," you smiled. "And my sister."

"Sister?" He hadn't known you had a sister. Usually the siblings of the Capitol were presented into society together, especially the women.

"Yes. Margaret," you looked up at him, blue meeting blue. "She was the best."

"Margaret," he tested the name out, hoping he could find it as sweet as you did. He did. "Does she live close?"

"I don't know," you said plainly.

He raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to elaborate.

"She left a long time ago," your smile was a little sad now. "I was nine. I haven't seen her since."

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, his hand on your shoulder absentmindedly stroking up and down. Though not in the same circumstances, he knew the pain of losing someone close.

"It's alright," you said, your head falling back on his shoulder. "I just hope she's happy."

"Did your parents go with her?" Coriolanus asked, before realizing he might be prying. "I'm sorry, I-"

"No, no," you assured him, reaching over and squeezing his other hand. "It's alright."

Your touch had a profound effect on him. He half smiled, eyes on your beautiful face as you continued.

"Like I said, we lived by the ocean." Your eyes were hazy with nostalgia, the light of the fire reflecting in them. The rain was pounding against the roof, the sound seeming to calm you. "In a little cottage on the beach. Me and my parents and Margaret."

He nodded, fingers still tracing your shoulder.

"I can't remember why Margaret left," you continued. "But she did, and then it was just me and my parents. One day I was walking on the beach. They were in the water." You paused, looking down at his hand in yours. "There was a current and they drowned."

Coriolanus was silent. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. You, the sweetest girl in the whole Capitol, had a trauma buried in your past that he'd have never guessed. And yet here you were in front of him, forgiving and gracious.

"I'm so sorry," he breathed, brushing a strand of damp hair out of your face.

"It's okay, it was a long time ago," you said, smiling in a bittersweet way. "It all worked out. My aunt took me in, and she takes care of me."

"No, I'm sorry for the way I've treated you," Coriolanus shifted you slightly to face him. "All these years. I've been awful to you and you didn't deserve it. Not one bit. And with everything that happened today..."

"Hey," you sat on your knees, kneeling between his legs. "It's okay. we're okay now. Everything that happened today-" You shook your head. "-it doesn't matter. You've apologized, and I know how sorry you are."

"You're brilliant," he said, taking your face in his hands. The gesture caught you a little by surprise, but you smiled slightly. "Yesterday when we were working on the project...I could see it clearly. You're amazing. Smarter than me..."

You laughed a little at that, leaning your cheek into one of his hands. "Really?"

"Don't rub it in," he murmured, and you laughed again. "But yes. And you're also sweet and caring and...I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since yesterday."

"You haven't?" One of your hands came up to grasp his wrist.

"No." Coriolanus shook his head to emphasize. "All these years I thought I hated you. I even admitted I was jealous. But really..."

He paused. He'd started talking without really knowing what he was going to say. So instead, he acted on an impulse and lowered his lips to yours.

Coriolanus' lips molded against yours, touching them softly, hesitantly. Until you started to kiss him back.

At that moment, when you reciprocated, he really started to kiss you. His lips dragged over yours, his thumbs tracing your jawline and bringing you closer. You shivered, not from the cold, but form the way he was touching you, holding you like something precious, something delicate.

The kiss broke off, and your eyes went back and forth between his, smiling slowly. As you did, his lips ghosted softly over yours once, then twice before he opened his eyes.

"You like me now?" you breathed, eyes bright.

"More than like you." His thumb roved over your cheekbone. He was smiling too. "Definitely more than like you."

You let out a little laugh of disbelief, your head falling against his chest. He hugged you close to him, kissing the top of your head. Contently, the two of you laid there for awhile, the fire warming you right up.

When you'd decided you were warm enough, you lifted your head, pressing a brief kiss to his lips before looking over at the door. You frowned. "Did you shut the door all the way?"

"I don't think we need to worry about anyone walking in on us," he muttered, trailing kisses down your neck.

"No." You nudged him off you, standing up. He followed you to the door, watching as you twisted the handle. It wouldn't budge. "The door gets stuck when it rains."

"Let me try," he offered. You stepped aside, and he pulled at the handle to no avail. "Ah, I see."

You groaned, hiding your face in his shoulder. "I should have told you before you came in...now we're gonna be stuck here all night."

"That doesn't sound so bad," he mused, arms wrapping around your waist. "It's not like we'll freeze."

"But we- ugh." You gave up, leaning back against him. "I don't know how I could have possibly forgotten."

"It'll be alright," he soothed, rubbing your back. "And besides, now we like each other." Coriolanus smirked slightly. "Whatever will we do all night?"

You laughed, letting him tug you back to the fire, where you remained cuddled in his arms until you both fell asleep.

The next morning the rain had stopped, and the two of you redressed in your clothes, opening the door with ease and walking out into the forest.

Coriolanus couldn't help his smile as he looked down at you, bringing your fingers to his lips as you walked back to the city.

Hand in hand.

come talk about coryo here!

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ilys00ga · 9 months ago

Text

𝗶𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗱𝘀, 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗻𝗮𝗶𝗹𝘀.

➞ pair: yoongi x reader.

➞ genre: hurt/comfort (why do I keep making these lmao), established relationships, I'm so bad at tagging sorry.

➞ warnings: angst and fluff cuz we all need that (we really do). reader has anxiety and abandonment issues, yoongi is trying his best for the sake of both of them, just relationship things.

➞ A/N: requested by @parkjennykim, this was very fun to write! thanks for yet another idea <3 I hope u like it. I'm organizing this blog/post (?) while listening to mono, and let me tell yall, it's such a vibe omg. I think you should read this while listening to that album, I love it sm, I can't even begin to explain UGH- if namjoon ever goes on a world tour, he better perform every single song in that album, cuz imma be losing my mind in the crowd, esp during moonchild. my vocal cords are already getting sore. yeah. if u want this to hit that spot, maybe u should do what I said (this is a friendly order, if u will). if not, just enjoy and pls ignore any mistakes, english has been challenging me recently (for the last 10 years lmao)

ps. I am in a dire need of a yoongi in my life. specifically the one I wrote in this one. oh how I love being a lonely fanfic writer <33

★ MASTERLIST.

ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

God knows how long it had been after it hit midnight when Yoongi stood in the kitchen. His eyes were red and heavy with drowsiness, but he couldn't sleep that night.

How does one sleep through a restless, biting night?

Surely not with a bad headache, or overflowing thoughts, and especially not with guilt chewing on his core.

He gulped, throat begging to be quenched as it held onto a slight, delicious, yet bothersome burning sensation. He opened the fridge and filled a glass with some water, raising it to his lips when loud a cry of his name, followed with a thud and a number of sobs, disturbed the quiet of the night and made him jump, startled.

His limbs froze in their place, glass almost slipping his hand and crashing on the floor when his sleep deprived brain realized that the muffled cries were yours.

Wide awake, he dashed after the sound. Thirst and sleep no longer occupied his mind, all he could think of was holding you in his arms.

He found you on the stairs, trembling as you wailed into your hands.

He hated it so much: seeing you in pain. He wanted nothing more than to shield you from the rainfall of your gloomy sky, from his own rainfall, from the world. How could one be an umbrella and the rain at once?

He blinked, once, twice, then gulped and heaved a deep, tired breath.

One storm doesn’t require another storm to be calmed down, that he knew. One needs to be composed and collected to stand still during a storm, that he knew as well.

With worried eyes, he gently called out your name and walked up to you, “darling, what’s wrong?”

You looked up as soon as you heard his worried voice, some tiny sense of relief washed over you when you saw him right there. A hundred daggers digged so deep into his heart and bones, aching, the moment a broken whimper of his name fell from your lips.

Without a second thought, Yoongi hugged your face to his chest. One of his hands was patting your back and the other affectionately caressed your head.

As he listened to his name that never left your lips, Yoongi held you there on the cold of the stairs with nothing but sweet nothings whispered back to your ears.

Everything he did and said was so gentle and soft, like he was so afraid you'd crack and come to tiny bits and pieces at any given moment. It all made you want to cry even harder, to hold him so tight and never let go.

Soon, when your tears started winding down, pulled away and cradled your face with his hands, palms faintly pressing on your cheeks as if he hoped to share their warmth with you.

Tender eyes met your wet ones and stared as their owner’s voice made its way through the noise of your sniffles and hiccups. He said, “It’s alright. I'm here. Talk to me, hmm?”

You answered his plea with a small nod, before wiping your tear stained skin and hugging him again. He smelt like home. You took a deep breath, greedily feeding your lungs with his lovely scent.

He hugged you back, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling your body closer to his. He pressed light kisses on your temple, patiently waiting for you to talk.

“I had a really scary nightmare. so, so scary- I woke up, didn’t find you there- then…then I remembered the fight we had earlier. I…I thought I lost you- I'm sorry. sorry for the stupid things I said earlier. I love you so much! please don’t leave. please..”

Your voice quivered with fresh tears ready to be spilled again. Yoongi started hushing you as soon as he noticed that you were working yourself up.

Squeezing you in his arms, he whispered “I never left, and I never will.”

“I’m all right, nothing happened to me, see?” he leaned away just enough to allow you to take a quick look at his body, then added, “a stupid fight is not going to make me leave. I love you way too much for that, and I'm sorry for hurting you too.”

He could still read fear and uncertainty all over your face, and he didn't like that. He knew that you trusted him, and he didn't doubt your love for him.

At first, he didn't get it. He didn't understand the insecurities, the anxiety and the nightmares you suffered from especially after the inevitably worst of arguments that happened between you and him. But after longer and deeper talks, with you expressing your feelings and him listening with careful ears, it made much more sense to him.

Sometimes he hated himself for triggering your alarms and making it harder for you, but he knew it was neither his fault nor was it yours.

Growth and pain are two key elements that come arm in arm with love, and fights are an unpreventable part of any kind of relationship. For all that, he always ended up blaming himself for making you question your worth to him when he can't even sleep without you happily cuddling his side.

Softly, lovingly, he started prepping tender kisses over your cheeks, nose, forehead, chin, temples, all over your flushed face.

It worked like watching waving fields of green wheat dancing with the wind, your storm started to slowly die down and your heart felt at ease again. slowly, but definitely.

Smiling ever so affectionately, Yoongi sealed his reassurance with a loving kiss that consumed you whole, and it left the corners of your mouth curving up in a dazzling smile. You nuzzled his chest and sighed.

“I really hate fighting with you.” you mumbled into his clothed chest, drained and light headed from all the crying and nearly-a-panic-attack you went through.

“I know, I'm sorry. I hate it too." he whispered back.

There was a pause of comfortable silence, with both of you breathing each other in, before he wondered aloud: “did you fall down the stairs? are you okay?”

You chuckled breathily at his question, recalling the hysteria he had to deal with just a few minutes ago. But Yoongi was there, right beside you. your arms were tightly wrapped around his torso, right by your side.

He had some kind of exceptionally irrepressible magic in those fierce eyes and that gummy smile of his, you inarguably couldn’t be more grateful for that.

“I'm alright. Was too busy crying, I didn’t even feel a thing to be honest.” you said, and he giggled.

“I love when you’re clumsy like that, but please be more careful, muffin. Can’t have you hurting yourself because of me even more." Even with your face buried into the crook of his neck, you could feel and hear the heavy pout in that comment.

Huffing, you leaned away with furrowed brows and a strict gaze. Yoongi gulped. Hesitation took over him, yet he knew that honesty is the only thing that must be present to drive this conversation to an end.

Honestly brings clarity, he found himself reminding himself of that very often.

"as long as we take care of each other, it's okay. I love you." you affirmed, and perhaps Yoongi almost teared up because of the way you looked at him right then and there. He wouldn't utter a word to spoil that information out loud, though.

The shy grin and the flushed cheeks you were met with were worth risking the entire world and its eight billion residents. You couldn't help but smile and pull him into another hug.

"This is great and all, but my butt is numbed. I think there's no blood flowing down there anymore," he said, his heart swooning when you giggled at his humorous change of topic, so relieved that he was finally able to hear your brightness again.

"Let's go back to rest, darling." He stood up, grabbed your hand and squeezed it in his, then gently pulled your body up and dragged you to your shared bedroom, where everything and everyone else meant little to nothing at all as you laid in each other's arms.

#yoongi x reader #yoongi #bts #yoongi scenarios #yoongi drabble #yoongi fluff #bts scenarios #bts yoongi #yoongi angst #hurt/comfort #suga fluff #bts fluff #suga angst #suga fic #abandoment issues #bts imagines #bts fic

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