#IDK IM SO EMOTIONAL PLEASE DON'T MIND ME | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whoreforsexymen · 29 days ago

Note

heeeey!!!! Im back with more jayce request. I would like to see jayce x reader with the prompts “Don’t act like you didn’t want to end up under me like this.” and “Shut up and take my fuckin’ cock.”. This is giving me like rivals or enemies to lovers where jayce and the reader have some heavy sexual tension under the surface. One day jayce just loses all patience and snaps and takes all of his stress and anger out on the reader

Sink Like A Stone | Jayce Talis

Prompt Fic (See, Prompt List)

Prompt(s) Used:

#2 "Don't act like you didn't want to end up under me like this."

#21 "Shut up and take my fuckin' cock."

Pairings: Jayce x Fem!Reader

Pronouns: Fem!Pronouns + Female Anatomy Descriptions

Rating: NSFW, 18+, MDNI !! You WILL be blocked!

Word Count: 8.3k (IDK what happened)

Tags: Songfic, INTENSE Smut, INTENSE Angst, VERY SLIGHT dub-con (it's not really dubcon--Jayce just get's really consumed by anger at one point--the unspoken consent is there) Hate-fucking, Lovers to Enemies then back to Lovers (??), Choking, Semi-Public Sex, Biting, Slapping, etc.

Summary: You and Jayce are ex-lovers. You hate him for plagiarizing and stealing your life's work, and he hates you for leaving him over what he considered a selfless act. After months of having not seen each other, you two get into a heated screaming match turned hate-fucking. However, Jayce may have let his emotions get the better of him.

Notes: OKOKOK, so. Be warned. This one is a DOOZY. I was in no way planning on adding 90% of the elements I added to this story. They just kind of happened.

(Special note to @milkbean69 !! I really took this and ran with it. If you want me to redo it in a much tamer way. Please let me know and I will.)

((((Side note, this is going to have to be a two-parter! Stay tuned for part two, which will be much softer.))))

‘We lie,

Cold.’

Jayce.

A name so simple, so unassuming, it would slip unnoticeably through anyone else’s mind. But to you, it holds weight. Each syllable, each breath that forms it, feels impossibly significant—a name that stirs something deep within you, a quiet echo of poignancy known only by you.

Your feelings towards the Jayce Talis you once knew were complex and hard to define. On one hand, you despised the way he insinuated himself into the council of Piltover’s most prestigious Academy, taking a seat you believed was rightfully yours—one you had fought tooth and nail to earn.

‘Dam up the river,

We can go, slow.’

His so-called “vision” for Piltover’s future, with that abominable Hextech nonsense, had directly sabotaged the plans you’d spent years perfecting. You may not have had the luxury of Arcane magic to ease trade, but you had crafted a much more practical blueprint to connect Piltover to the rest of Runeterra’s trading world.

Yet the moment Jayce and his fragile “partner” wielded their so-called “magic,” your ideas were dismissed, overlooked, and ultimately erased.

‘We don’t wanna,

Know.’

On the other hand, you had always considered him a friend—seemingly more at times—until the day he practically ripped the rug of your life’s work out from under your feet.

Not to mention he had the gall to call it his idea. “His” idea? Please. It was your idea, just re-wrapped in a fancy mystical package. You had worked on it together, after all. Jayce had spent countless hours rambling about the mysticism and potential of those tiny blue stones of his, insisting they could revolutionize everything you had ever strived to achieve. Never once did you imagine that, once he unlocked their power, he’d turn against you, abandoning the partnership and the vision you had once shared.

‘Dull down our senses,

Become numb.'

What kind of name was Hextech, anyhow? It felt devoid of sophistication, lacking both subtlety and the gravitas one might expect from something so profound. It didn’t quite capture the essence of what it was—an intricate fusion of magic and technology—nor did it convey any sense of elegance or purpose.

Although, you couldn’t deny that you often reminisced in memories of your life before his grandiose “discovery”—robbery, really— of Hextech—your idea.

‘We take our time

Ignoring all the signs

Living in fear of our lies

Never bad enough to break it

Or, good enough to feel right.’

You had spent the better portion of your youth with him, much of it tangled amidst bedsheets, consumed by a shared, desperate need to relinquish each other’s physical tensions.

‘Been in overtime,

Half our lives.’

Sometimes, you could still feel the softness of his touch, the warmth of his lips grazing your skin—and other, much more tender, places. You could easily recall how your body had ached for him at times, but even more painfully, how your heart had longed for him, too. A truth you never dared to utter aloud.

The absence of anything beyond those intense moments of passion never really crossed your mind during the thick of it all. You never questioned it, and in hindsight, you’re almost thankful you didn’t—especially after what he had done after all that time. All of the time spent together, collectively fantasizing over your dreams and aspirations of a better life for all citizens, and a better future for the next generations to come.

‘Under indecision,

We become so dependent.

On the rush,

Of the moment.’

The bitterness that had consumed your heart was unbearable now, and the thought of ever confessing your feelings to him seemed almost unfathomable—impossible to imagine how much worse it could have been for you now if you had.

By this point, you were acutely aware of how deeply you loathed him. Your physical desires had long since faded, especially since you hadn’t seen or spoken to him in months. You had even gone so far as to move to a place he couldn’t find, cutting off every trace of connection, and the bond you once had.

Your skin ached with longing for him, your body and soul craving his touch once more. Yet, no matter how intense the desire, you would never allow him a single opportunity to return to your life.

It was a painful contradiction to bear—hating him, yet craving him all the same. You felt trapped, consumed by hopelessness, unable to escape the turmoil inside.

‘Sanitize

My head.’

You hadn’t moved far—just to the other side of Piltover, away from The Academy, the council, and—most importantly—-Jayce, himself.. The distance was a great relief. In your day-to-day life, there was no real risk of encountering him, and that small sense of safety gave you some peace of mind.

However…

You often found yourself testing that peace, pushing the boundaries of the distance you’d created. You weren’t entirely sure why—maybe it was the deep, unresolved desperation for him, or perhaps a semi-conscious, self-destructive choice of yours.

‘Death murders

Everything in sight.’

Each night, you found yourself walking almost the entire length of Piltover, from your new home to the Hexgate monolith on the far end—the very place you had fought so hard to escape.

Seeing the towering structure always left you with a deep, melancholic thrum in your chest. It represented everything you had once hoped for, everything you had worked and slaved over, now reduced to rubble by its mere presence.

‘Beneath the rip in the wind

The pillar push you aside.’

That tower stood as an unyielding symbol of betrayal, a constant reminder of the anger and anguish that had shattered your world at the mercy of Jayce’s hands.

‘If I make way

I can taste your sigh.

Just like the cannibal amp

It knows sound is size.’

On your nightly walks, you would make your way down the stone pier that lead to the water, your footsteps echoing in the quiet. When you reached the end, you’d grasp the railing that kept people from tumbling over the cliff’s edge, gluing yourself to the present moment.

‘Push me to

The brink, I said

Well that bitch

Is a creep

It tried to know what I think.’

There, you’d gaze up at the tower, lost in thought—re-evaluating and wondering how differently your life might have unfolded if Jayce hadn’t betrayed you—-if he hadn’t stolen your idea and torn everything apart.

‘To breathe out passion

Or suck in fate

You think the world was made

To wield your weight

And bleed out?’

Tonight was no different. Here you were, hood drawn—- hands shoved deep in your pockets—-your bodice pulled tight as you hunched in quiet disdain, eyes locked on nothing but the ground that passed underfoot.

Your expression was sour as you traced every wrong turn your life had taken to bring you here. Your chest felt heavy, as if the weight of it all pressed itself down upon you out of sheer spite.

Your mind buzzed, a relentless whirl of painful memories spinning in a dizzying menagerie inside your skull.

When your eyes met the stark, hauntingly familiar edifice, a sharper pang stabbed deep beneath your chest, more intense than you were accustomed to by now.

You weren’t sure why, of all nights, tonight seemed to bring out the most intense surge of feelings—especially since you found yourself unusually consumed by your thoughts this time around.

Especially since, long before Jayce had perfected the Hexgate, the two of you would often come here to find solace in the sound of the waves and the crisp air of the sea. You’d toss stones into the water, or compete to see who could throw them the furthest. The bittersweet memory of how often Jayce would taunt you for your lack of coordination only deepened the pain and anger digging at you.

You couldn’t control the mindless, almost reflexive way your body reacted to such intense feelings, in combination with the familiarity of the location. Without a second thought, your hand reached for a nearby rock, and before you even registered what you were doing, you hurled it as hard as you could toward the tower.

The tower, distant and perched far out in the water, seemed almost unreachable, and your rock barely made it halfway before splashing down into the water with a sound that felt like it mocked you in the same way Jayce had. You almost felt compelled to throw another rock, driven by some irrational need to make the first one atone for mocking you—despite the fact that it, like all other rocks, had no sentience to answer for its actions.

You gave in to the irrational impulse, bending down to pick up another rock, your mind still fixated on the need to make the previous one pay. But as your fingers closed around the stone, something in the corner of your vision made you pause. A pair of shoes—familiar, yet unknown—caught your eye. Shoes that were attached to feet. Feet that led up to legs. Legs that belonged to the hips and torso of an individual you couldn’t see beyond your hood.

The rock slipped from your hand, forgotten, as your attention shifted entirely to the figure standing behind you. You hadn’t heard a single indicating noise that you had been followed, or approached from behind.

The presence was sudden, unnerving, and yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to be afraid. If you were anywhere else, anywhere but Piltover, you’d be terrified. But here, in this ”city of wonders”, you couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow, you were still safe.

If anything, it was probably an enforcer, here to reprimand you for throwing rocks in the first place. You straightened up, brushing the thought aside, and turned to face whoever had been silently looming behind you.

As you spun around, you realized—this wasn’t an enforcer.

No, far from it.

The person standing there was more terrifying than any enforcer could ever be, and certainly more annoying, infuriating, and enraging to look upon, for lack of better words to describe the instant rush of wrath that overwhelmed you.

‘Am I the reason

That you can’t look past

Your future self?’

“Your aim is still pretty shit, sunshine.” He says plainly, the nickname he had always pegged you with burning in your ears.

Your blood ran cold as your eyes locked onto the disgustingly smug expression on his face. Every hair on your body stood on end, a shiver crawling up your spine as you stood face to face with the man you now regarded with nothing but utter disdain.

You freeze, unable to muster a response, your mind clouded with a storm of rage and contemptment.

Jayce’s gaze lingers on you, almost—dare you think it—in a way that seemed concerned, longing, and worst of all—-caring.

What a hypocrite. How dare he look at you like he actually cares?

‘Got me believin’

You’ve been stuck

And glued in frequent doubt.’

“Don’t give me that look,” you snap, your fingers twitching, aching to throw a rock at his face just to make him eat his words. For a split second, you actually consider it—and you’re sure Jayce can feel exactly what’s running through your mind as he observes the way your eyes flicker between his face, and the stone you had left behind.

“What look?” he asks, concern surging through his expression again.

Did this guy have a death wish, or was he really just that oblivious? Either way, you could crack instantaneously.

“That look. The fake concern,” you snap, your eyes dropping, fists tightening, teeth grinding.

“Fake…?” He pauses, clearly lost in thought as he crosses his arms over his chest, the hint of offense hanging off his words.

You fight the urge to lash out, to make him feel something stronger than pain.

‘I know the feeling

‘Cause I can’t keep

My mind open now.’

“Yes, fake, Jayce. As in insincere. Artificial,” you spit, taking a sharp breath.

“Ersatz,” you add, the word a bitter aftertaste.

Your words cut through the air with a venomous cadence, each syllable sharp and biting, a distasteful attempt to tear through him.

Jayce looked completely dumbfounded, as if his mind had been wiped clean. The stark look of gears no longer grinding in his brain was almost comical. He was daft, no doubt. You felt a twinge of pride prod your ego upon this realization.

You couldn’t bear to stay here, not this close to him, not after everything. The thought that he was only here to twist the knife deeper into your wounds was almost more than you could handle. Your emotions, raw and overwhelming, had already drained you, and you were done. You didn’t want to give him another moment—no chance for him to make things worse, or worse still, to somehow try and redeem himself. As if he ever could.

Steeling yourself, you gather what little dignity you have left and turn away, keeping your face carefully composed. As you pass him, you deliberately knock your shoulder against his, ricocheting his shoulders in the process, a silent and singular act of defiance as you walk away.

As if to intentionally make matters worse, Jayce turns after you, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist. He makes contact, swiftly pulling you back towards him.

“___, wait—” He begins, but his words are cut short as your hand slams into his cheek. You hadn’t necessarily meant to hit him, but the motion was as instinctive as throwing the rocks—your hand connecting with the flesh of his cheek before you even had a chance to stop it—not that you necessarily would have wanted to.

The way you had wound up the slap was only amplified by the sudden pull of his hand grabbing you mid-stride, forcing you back toward him. The momentum aided the force with which you struck him.

The weight of what you’d just done hit you all at once—grief, anger, relief, all crashing together. A small part of you, the part that still cared for him, was flooded with guilt. But the darker parts of you—those that hated him, that had longed to hurt him—felt a twisted satisfaction. Besides, it was his own fault that he had grabbed you.

You’d wanted to feel his skin beneath your hands, after all, and in an oddly perfect way, this had been the way to satiate that desire.

Jayce instantly released his grip on your wrist, his hand moving to cup the spot where your slap had left its mark.

“Ah…” he groaned, wincing as he cupped the stinging flesh. His eyes snapped shut, the pain unmistakably written all over his face.

You couldn’t tear your gaze away as he stood there, his hand pressed against the raw, reddened skin of his cheek, the mark of your slap still vivid and angry. The sight of it made your chest tighten, but you couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was you were feeling. What should you feel in a moment like this? That was the question you could neither answer or shake.

You had already acknowledged, in a quiet corner of your mind, that there was a strange satisfaction in lashing out, even if it was tangled with the thorny weight of your own hurt. There was a cruel sort of release in it, one that both thrilled and disturbed you in equal measure. Your stomach churned as you fought to suppress the abhorrent feeling of shame that crept up on you.

You could feel your instincts urging you to escape—to run, to put distance between yourself and this raw, uncomfortable moment. But you chose not to listen. The urge to flee warred with something else, something deeper, a curiosity that had begun to take root. You wanted to see how this would unfold, to witness how this tension would resolve, if it would resolve at all. The satisfaction you had felt from that sharp, ringing slap was undeniable. Maybe it had been a way to expel some of the pain that had been building inside you for so long. Maybe, just maybe, it was worth confronting whatever came next, just to relieve yourself of that heaviness, even if only for a moment.

‘Make up your mind,

We’re running out of time.’

Your heart sunk as you saw the essence of betrayal soon sweep across his face. Yet, simultaneously, that added to the anger you felt. He, of all people, felt betrayal? After the way he betrayed you? That look of his repulsed you.

He looked at you, disbelief written all over his face, his expression a mixture of shock and hurt. His hand lingered on his cheek, still tender from the sting of your slap, as though he couldn’t quite grasp the reality of the moment. The look he gave you was one of genuine confusion, as if he couldn’t fathom why you were so consumed by anger.

“___…” His voice cracked slightly, heavy with emotion, but still full of that familiar, passionate lilt, the kind that used to make your heart race. When he whispered your name—softly, almost reverently—it was as if the sound of it pained him.

‘Doubt is failure

By design.’

His eyes searched yours, full of questions that hung in the air, unanswered. Why had you struck him? Why this sudden violence? The pain in his gaze only seemed to stoke the fire inside you, making the anger flare even hotter, more reckless.

“Don’t look at me like that. Like you don’t know exactly what that was for,” you spat, each word sharp, each syllable dripping with a tang that tasted like metal on your tongue. But as the words left you, the anger morphed into something far more fragile, far more devastating. Your heart seemed to crack with the weight of it, the betrayal, the hopelessness. The tears welled up, blurring your vision as your chest tightened with sorrow.

“Why… why are you so blind to everything you’ve done?” you choked out.

“To everything we had… everything you destroyed… just so you could chase your fucking dreams?”

Your fists balled at your sides, the muscles in your arms trembling from the effort of keeping control, even though your voice shook with the strain of holding back the tidal wave of emotion threatening to break free.

‘I’m burning up

Can only take

So much.’

“What about my dreams, Jayce? What about our dreams?” you cried, your voice rising, your words feeling like they could burn everything in their path. Every inch of you ached—your body, your heart, your soul—all of it pulled taut like a string ready to snap. You didn’t know how much longer you could keep it in.

“What made sealing your own future—your destiny—more important than what we built together?” you demanded, the question sitting in the air between you like a dagger.

“Why was your ambition more sacred than our bond? More sacred than us?”

Your voice cracked on the last word, your breath coming in short, jagged gasps. The tears spilled over, leaving hot trails down your face, but you stood your ground, unwilling to back down. This—this pain, this heartbreak—was something you needed to admit, needed him to hear.

“How dare you steal my idea. How dare you take the credit, and disparage it with your stupid, fucking, magic.” You were shouting now, your voice ringing through the night air, raw and unfiltered, the weight of your anger shattering the silence that had settled over everything. The contrast between your fury and the stillness of the evening was jarring—your words felt like they were tearing through the quiet, reverberating off the walls of the world around you.

“Your idea?!” he exclaimed in response, his voice rising sharply, cutting through your tirade. He stepped forward, closing the distance between you in a few purposeful strides, his figure towering over you, his height and presence suddenly far more imposing than you remembered. His broad shoulders blocked the space between you, his stance firm, as if challenging you to face him head-on.

‘I know you

Can feel it

It’s catching up

It’s getting too heavy

For both of us.’

“Since when was it your idea?” His words were fast, biting with frustration, and he was unrelenting as he moved closer, his eyebrows knit together in upset.

“‘Cause the way I remember it—we both wanted change. We both wanted to make Piltover a better, more advanced city.” His voice was now an angry force, his face craning down to meet yours, his eyes sharp, trying to drill the point home. He wasn’t asking anymore—he was demanding you understand.

But what hit you most in that moment wasn’t just his words. It was the way his anger had suddenly shifted everything. For the first time in your life, you felt small compared to him. You had never seen him like this—not even annoyed, not in all the time you had spent together. Jayce had always been the steady one, the calm, the voice of reason. But now, his fury felt like a storm—intense, unpredictable, and completely foreign. The force of it left you unsettled, and taken aback, to say the least.

You didn’t know how to react to this. His anger was like a tidal wave, knocking the ground out from under you, and for the first time, you realized just how much power he had over you—how much he could command just by his sheer presence. The towering figure in front of you, his jaw clenched, eyes burning with emotion, made your chest tighten. You didn’t know what to do with this. His anger was new, and in some way, it was almost more frightening than anything you had ever faced.

‘We lie

Cold.’

You were baffled, not just by the words he was saying, but by the way he was saying them—like a person you didn’t recognize.

You parted your lips, ready to continue the tirade that had built up in your chest, but before you could get another word out, Jayce’s voice cut you off, raw and jagged. He didn’t give you a chance to speak, his frustration spilling over, each word more desperate than the last.

“You left me. Here. Alone.” His voice cracked, trembling under the weight of everything he, too, left unsaid, considering how you fled before he ever got a chance to explain himself. It wasn’t just anger in his tone anymore; it was pain. The kind that came from a place so deep you couldn’t ignore it, no matter how hard you tried.

“I did what I thought was best for us.” He stepped closer, his voice rising in volume, matching the intensity of your own.

“I proved what I was trying to prove. For us. For our collective aspirations.” The words came faster now, fueled by the overwhelming rush of emotion that was beginning to boil over in him.

“I worked my ass off to make sure that, with the help of my Hextech, your trade routes could flourish,” he spat, his anger now matching yours, raw and unrelenting. His face was inches from yours, his breath hot as he glared down at you.

“I won’t stand here and let you blame me, let you hate me, for acting out of what I thought was selflessness at the time. I’ve gone to bat for you, countless times, to make sure you got the credit you deserved.”

His own fists clenched at his sides, the strain of his words almost too much to bear.

“But you ran. You left, assuming my only goal was to use you, when in reality, all I ever tried to do was support you.”

His words slammed into you like a physical blow, and for a second, you were paralyzed by the force of them. But then the anger surged again, hot and insistent. Support you? The bitterness twisted in your gut, and before you even thought about it, the words exploded from your mouth.

“Support me?!” You shouted, the sound ringing through the night like a bell, sharp and accusing.

“That’s what you call abandoning me to take a seat in the highest of towers?” You could feel the heat of your own fury rising to meet his, and without thinking, you shoved both hands into his chest, pushing him back with all the force you could muster.

Jayce stumbled backward, caught off guard by the sheer force of your anger, and you weren’t done. You shoved him again, harder this time, your hands pressing against his chest until he hit the railing behind him with a loud clang. The sound echoed in the air, but you didn’t care.

“In the council, no less?! Leaving me here to fend for myself in your fucking shadow?!” Your voice was hoarse now, each scream louder and more desperate than the last. You pushed him once more, as if trying to push the weight of everything you felt, everything you couldn’t hold onto anymore, into him.

The tears you’d held back were streaming freely down your face, but there was no stopping them now. The hurt, the betrayal—it all came pouring out in that single moment. The fury and heartbreak swirled together, a force you couldn’t control, and all you could do was scream at him until your voice gave out, until he understood just how much you had suffered because of his choices.

‘Dam up the river,

We can go, slow.’

Jayce had finally reached his limit. The shouting, the anger, the constant back and forth—it was all too much. He could see now that no matter what he said, nothing would make you stop. The argument had spiraled into something beyond reason, and every word he spoke only seemed to fuel your fire. You weren’t listening anymore; you were just lashing out, consumed by rage.

Enough was enough.

‘Dull down our senses,

Become numb.’

When you shoved him again, anger blinding you, Jayce reacted quickly. His patience had worn thin, and he wasn’t about to let this go any further.

The next time your hands came at him, he caught your wrists with a swift, forceful motion, crossing them tightly over each other. Before you could react, he shoved your arms into your chest, locking you in place. Then, without warning, he spun you around, pulling you harshly against him so that your back was pressed to his chest. His grip tightened, his arms like iron bands, preventing you from thrashing away.

‘Mirin myself

All by myself.’

“Stop.” His voice was low, sharp, and commanding, vibrating against your ear as his chest caged you in. You could feel the heat of his body, the raw tension in every inch of him as he held you close, his strength completely overpowering your attempts to break free.

“___, for fucks sake! Stop!” He demands, one of his enormous hands moving to take hold of both of your wrists while the other clamped down around your jaw, bringing your face towards your shoulder, where his own chin rested in this position.

Jayce had no choice. He knew how stubborn you were, how deeply you clung to your anger when you were hurt, and how you’d never stop until you’d worn yourself out—if you ever did. But right now, he couldn’t wait for that to happen. He couldn’t let you run away from him anymore.

With one sharp, decisive movement, his lips crashed into yours. It was hard, hungry, demanding—a complete storm of sensation that left no room for resistance. Your eyes went wide in shock, your breath hitching as you tried to pull back, but he followed, his mouth pressing harder against yours, refusing to let you break free.

‘Feel the caress, so sweet

Done by my hand.’

You gasped, the sound caught between your lips, and before you could protest, his kiss deepened, his tongue slipping past your lips, twisting with yours in a way that both startled and confused you. You cried out into his mouth, the noise muffled, as his hold on you tightened, his body pressing closer to yours, grounding you in place.

Every part of you wanted to push him away, to shout, to keep fighting, but Jayce’s kiss was relentless—an anchor pulling you deeper into silence. He wasn’t pulling back, not until you stopped fighting, until you let go of that anger long enough to breathe.

And though you still burned with fury, something about the way he held you, the way his presence swallowed you whole, made it harder and harder to keep struggling.

No matter how much you had longed for his touch, how desperately you had yearned for him to kiss you like this again, you couldn’t bring yourself to accept it in a moment like this. Not when everything inside you was still burning with anger and hurt.

‘Polishing this frame of mind,

Jacked it up an ax to grind.’

You fought against him, your body stiff and tense, desperately trying to pull away from his overwhelming presence. Each movement was a silent refusal, a stubborn resistance to the way his kiss was pulling at your very core.

‘Duck n’ dodge,

Stay unaligned.'

But it was futile. You were already drained, your energy spent from the crying, the shouting, the endless cycle of rage that had led you here. As his lips pressed more insistently against yours, the fight in you began to falter. The need to escape, the impulse to run, slowly began to dissolve with every second his lips lingered on yours, and his tongue explored the depths of your mouth. What remained was the sharp sting of your rage, but even that felt like it was starting to ebb.

Gradually, your body softened, the tension in your muscles melting away. The fight left you, piece by piece, until you sighed against his mouth, the sound muffled but unmistakable. With a subtle shift, your head tilted just enough to give him more room, more access, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to stop fighting. The kiss deepened, and in that quiet surrender, Jayce released a long, relieved breath, sensing your body finally easing into his touch.

‘My recognition face

Some get withered

Some get fried.’

You kissed him back after great hesitation, your lips and tongue moving urgently against his, as if you were trying to make up for every lost moment in a single, heated breath. There was no holding back now. The memories, the longing, everything that had been buried deep inside you erupted all at once, and your mouth moved hungrily against his, each movement a desperate attempt to relive the intimacy you’d once shared.

‘I know we talked about

The shit we did

Each time.’

His grip on your wrists faltered, weakening as you started to turn toward him fully. The distance between you closed rapidly, and soon, your chest was pressed flush against his, your body responding to his presence with an intensity you couldn’t control. As your hands were freed, they instinctively traveled up to his face, your thumb brushing over the spot where you’d struck him only minutes before, feeling the remnants of your anger there, now mingling with something else.

‘Polishing this frame of mind

Jacked it up an ax to grind.’

You cupped his face, fingers digging into his jaw, pulling him even closer as if trying to erase the distance between you, to melt into him and make up for the time and pain that had come before. The urgency in your movements was raw and frantic, a wordless plea to feel everything at once—to collapse the anger, the longing, and the need that had built up inside you into this single, desperate connection.

‘Duck n’ dodge

Stay unaligned

My recognition face.’

His hands roamed over your body, searching for any way to pull you closer, his touch growing more insistent as he settled them on your hips, pulling you into him. The physical closeness only heightened the tension, the desire, but also something darker—something that still lingered between you—lust.

Though you no longer felt the need to escape, your rage simmered just below the surface, burning deep in your chest. It wasn’t gone, not by a long shot. It still gnawed at you, demanding to be felt, demanding some kind of reckoning. Part of you wanted to make him feel it, make him understand the depth of your pain. You wanted him to know what you had been through all this time.

‘Am I the reason

That you can’t

Look past your future self?’

Your tongue retracted for a moment, and you pressed your teeth against his bottom lip, the bite sharp enough to sting. It was a flash of anger, mixed with the heat of desire, and it caught Jayce off guard. You had shared passionate moments before, but nothing quite like this—nothing that carried this much intensity. He flinched at the sudden sharpness, but in that moment, something in him sparked, that familiar fire of tension growing even stronger.

If that’s what it would take to break the tension, then he’d oblige.

Jayce’s hand tangled into your hair, pulling you closer, his grip tightening. The sensation of your hair in his hand, the pressure, sent a breathless sound escaping from you—something between a gasp and a soft exhale. It was involuntary, the sound mixing with the heat building between you. Jayce had always longed to hear that from you, to feel that connection, and now that it was happening, he couldn’t stop.

For far too long, Jayce had denied himself any form of physical connection. Since you left, he’d been forced to bury his desire for you deep inside, locking it away with a painful awareness that nothing—no touch, no embrace—could compare to what he had shared with you. Each passing day, he became more acutely aware of the emptiness that lingered, knowing that any contact with anyone else would only serve as a stark reminder of the craving that burned for you.

‘Got me believin’

You’ve been stuck

And glued in frequent doubt.’

He tightened his grip, drawing another soft sound from you, the mix of pleasure and tension in the air thickening. His focus was solely on you now, on the way your body responded, on the sounds you made, and how this moment—this raw, unguarded moment—was pulling both of you closer to the unspoken lust that couldn’t be denied a moment longer.

You can’t help but let out a filthy little moan, whimpering along with it.

A shameless, guttural moan, that sent Jayce’s head into a spiral. He had been beyond desperate to coax those kinds of noises out of you for what felt like too long of an eternity. He was in no position to deny himself the opportunity to keep drawing them out of you.

His hands curled into a fist as he yanked on your hair, whimpers flying out of you like a flock of birds.

If you wanted to fight dirty, Jayce was game.

“Fuck..” He breathes out—eager, like a starved man who stumbled upon a banquet— as he pulls away from your lips, immediately pressing them against the skin of your neck he had exposed from his grip on your locks. He let his teeth drag along the skin, biting and harshly sucking on it in several places. Your reaction was deathly arousing. The slightly pained cries that flowed beside ones of pleasure sent Jayce’s burning temptation into orbit.

He knew you needed him in the way he had once gotten used to providing for you. His cock throbbed beneath his slacks, desperate to break free from the confines of the cloth that kept it contained.

It was arguably harder than it had ever been, his anger and inability to have you for so long adding fuel to the fire of his pure incessant need to bury himself deep inside you.

‘I know the feeling

Cause I can’t keep

My mind open now.’

Oh, how you both longed to be connected like that again. In the way all lovers know well—their unspoken second nature.

He ruts his hips against yours, your own body responding instinctively by meeting them in their attempt to seek friction.

You both emit low grunts at the new sensation, satiating the tension for now.

You felt as though you were being scorched from within, the intense heat of your desire and simmering rage intertwining, each stoking the other in a relentless blaze. Every nerve burned with an insatiable hunger, a craving that went beyond pleasure, pulling you deeper into a whirlwind of both ecstasy and agony.

You needed more—not just the thrill of sensation, but the raw, cathartic pain that seemed to heighten the fire within you. Your soul ached for an outlet, something that would satisfy the chaotic tension, where your lust and frustration could collide, erupting into something that might finally ease the raging storm inside.

You snaked your arms around his neck, giving a small jump into him as you anchored onto him, wrapping your legs around his waist. He hums darkly in reaction to the sudden motion, his hands releasing their clasp on your hair to instead latch onto the bottom of your ass—-supporting you as you clung to him.

Jayce’s head shot up from it’s spot between your head and chest, moving to a new vantage point in order to scan the area. He was a man with a mission.

A mission to uncover the perfect place, somewhere secluded and unremarkable—a refuge hidden from the world where he could channel the fury between you with ruthless intensity. It had to be a spot where nothing could interrupt the raw, unfiltered release of tension—a place where every movement, every act, could be as drastic and unforgiving as the anger that surged through both of you.

Needless to say—and in an extremely simple turn of phrase—-He needed to fuck the rage out of you— and he would stop at nothing to do so.

After a few tense moments, Jayce focused, his eyes landing on the perfect hidden corner in all of Piltover. His grip tightened on you as he began to lead you toward it. The alleyway was small and shadowed, tucked between two shops that had long since closed for the night. The buildings on either side pressed in tightly, their walls forming a dark, narrow passage that swallowed any light. The darkness obscured it from street lamps and passersby, though Jayce hardly seemed at all concerned about the possibility of wandering eyes, anyway.

The alley itself was already tucked away from the main streets, but the particular spot his intentions were set on was even more concealed—through the alley and to the right, behind the buildings entirely, not just in between.

Overhanging eaves, garbage bins and scattered crates cloaked the area, creating a thick, impenetrable shadow. It was a secluded pocket, completely hidden from view, untouched by the faintest glimmer from the street beyond.

A perfect haven of obscurity, though the lack of any inviting scenery was hardly worth a second thought. The cracked cobblestones, the faint smell of damp earth, rotting trash, and the forgotten clutter of the alley seemed irrelevant. In a place like this, where shadows held sway, scenery had no claim. Nothing mattered but the raw, pressing heat of the moment.

You sank your teeth into his neck, your hands exploring his shoulders with a quiet, persistent need. He groaned beneath your bite, his un-abating lust taking the lead furthermore, as he harshly slammed your back against the abrasive stone walls of the building. His mouth was quick to covet yours once more, lips voraciously seeking stimulation from them.

Your sensual tango of lips pressing against each other, hips grating and rutting into each other’s carried out, Jayce beginning to make quick work of exposing you to the elements, his cock still hard as ever as it brushed against your clit beneath the layers of clothing. You can’t help but whimper out in response.

With the new advantage of pinning you to the stone wall—-combined with the leverage of your legs still around his waist—-his hands grew eager, rushing to tear your blouse apart. His fingers slid between the buttons of the opening, pushing through the seam before he gripped tight and wrenched it apart. Several buttons flew free, briefly distracting from the sharp bite of the cold air against the newly exposed skin.

You couldn’t help but whine into the cavern of his mouth, the rough display of lust redirecting all of your aching and longing straight to your clit. It throbbed with intent, a desperate reminder that you needed more friction. You greedily rolled your hips into his, yielding another low, filthy grunt from Jayce.

“Fuck.” He pants against your mouth, hands kneading at your breasts, cock twitching beneath his trousers.

Oh, how he longed to revisit the memories of your past encounters, to re-enact the acts of pleasure he had learned to bring you. But in such a moment, he couldn’t bring himself to slow down. As much as he yearned to please you in the ways he’d spent so much time discovering, there was no time, now. The urgency of the present situation demanded everything from him. If he didn’t bury his cock deep within you, right now, and fuck you senseless, he’d probably keel over.

This was his last chance. His only chance to rewrite your history.

‘Am I the reason,

That you can’t look past,

Your future self?’

Without a second’s hesitation, Jayce tore your legs from his waist, practically dropping you to the ground. In one swift motion, he flipped you around, pressing your cheek forcefully into the cold stone wall with one hand. You groan out, the harsh force of his motions prodding your deep-seated anger once more. His chin reclaims its resting point on your shoulder, teeth claiming your earlobe between them as he pressed his mouth to your ear. You groan out of sudden distaste for the new position.

”Don’t act like you didn’t want to end up under me like this.” He growls into it, the words viscerally stabbing at your clit, earning a thirsty cry from you.

He spread your legs with his feet, his free hand clambering to release his throbbing cock from it’s fabric prison. He yanked your pants down, the sound of his belt clinking sending shivers up your spine as your cunt pulsated in anticipation.

You were beyond wet—the word a dull description of the way your cunt was absolutely sopping, dripping, and practically gushing for him.

Despite your evident arousal, you weren’t used to things happening so fast. You began to protest as your back arched against his brawny, bold, and burly chest.

“Jayce— wait!” You started to say, before his teeth clamped down onto your earlobe with increased vigor, your words fading into torrid moans as a result.

He pulls your underwear to the side, fist pumping his deprived cock before he lined himself up with your soaking cunt.

“Shut up and take my fuckin’ cock.” He barked.

Before you even had a chance to breathe, he plowed into you, curling his hips up to press flush against your ass. You had no choice but to brace yourself. Your hands flew to the cold stone wall, gripping tightly to keep from collapsing under the force of it all.

The sound that tore from deep within your chest was raw, loud enough to make anyone within a hundred feet of the building take concerned notice. Anyone outside of you and Jayce would have assumed you were being murdered.

It was a deliciously vile sound, thick with want, neediness, desperation, and all the emotions you had yet resolved.

“Fuck!” You scream, tears stinging in your eyes as Jayce began slamming up into you with at an absolutely merciless pace. He wasted no time by giving you a single moment to adjust, knowing full well the rough nature was exactly what the situation called for. If he didn’t give this his all, everything was at stake. Or so he thought.

His thrusts were, at their core, crude—filthy, vulgar.

Lascivious.

They had an animalistic quality, one that attested to his own desires, and the hurtful longing he had harbored for you.

Jayce grunted, huffing out as he ruthlessly snapped his hips against the flesh of your ass. He plunged his teeth into the skin of your shoulder, the hand that held your face against the stone withdrew from you. Jayce pulled it beneath your arm, wrapping around your chest to imperviously grip at your breast, using his hold on it to further aid in the force with which he was bucking into you.

His other hand moved to your neck, fingers tightening around it with a possessive grip. The pressure forced the air from your lungs, and you gasp, the sound barely escaping as your breath becomes shallow. You squirm, struggling to breathe, but his hold doesn’t loosen. Instead, it pulls you in deeper, mixing fury with hunger. Each ragged breath, each flicker of resistance only seems to make it worse, the heat between you both building in the space where anger and desire collide.

“Fuck you.” He spat out in sync with his thrusts.

“Fuck.” —thrust.

“You.” —thrust.

“For.” —thrust.

“Leaving.” Thrust, thrust, thrust.

The words he spat out were coated in intent, each one seething with the same anger that simmered inside of him. The way he moved, pounding into you, was frantic, his hips driven by a fire that seemed to consume him.

‘Got me believin’

You’ve been

Stuck and glued

In frequent doubt.’

You could feel it, the heat coursing through his veins with every thrust—his body shaking with the intensity of it. There was nothing controlled about the way he gripped you, no tenderness. Just a reckless, furious need, each movement angry, as if he were fighting to push the rage out of his body and into you.

His soul had been set ablaze, and all you could do was feel the burn.

“Agh—“ You pant, air still desperate to escape your lungs as he clenched your throat.

“F-fuck you for—-Pretending like—-you care.” You choke out.

Jayce’s blood boils, his grip on your throat tightening beyond the point of care.

“Pretending like I care?” He pants as well, exhausting himself from the force with which he was railing his cock up into you.

“I care. More than—anyone—sunshine.” He very well shouts, words still in sync with his thrusts, on exhaling with each. He was absolutely plowing you now, the familiar nickname cutting through the air that surrounded you.

You were groaning out in pleasure and pain, the contrasting feelings mixing into one as he continued his relentless assault on your cervix.

“T-Then why—-why couldn’t you just—-“ Your lungs begged for air.

“Love me—-like I love—- you?” You gasp, your voice barely audible above the hunger for air.

‘I know the feeling

Cause I can’t

Keep my mind

Open now.’

Jayce’s movements stopped abruptly, his hands yanking away from you as if struck by a sudden realization. You gasped, breath catching painfully in your throat, stumbling back into the wall, your body desperate for air that was slow to come. The intensity that had fueled him moments before seemed to drain in an instant, leaving you gasping in the silence.

Jayce felt an overwhelming wave of guilt crash over him, sharp and suffocating, like a bucket of ice-cold water being poured straight over his head. It hit him all at once, a gut-punch of realization that mirrored the guilt he had seen on your face earlier when you slapped him—raw, unfiltered, and impossible to escape. His chest tightened, a heaviness settling in his stomach as he stood there, frozen, unable to look at you.

His hips stilled, his body rigid as the anger that had driven him to this point shifted, replaced by something softer—-sadder. His heart felt heavy in his chest, sinking like a stone in water.

All that was left in the alley was the erratic—-uneven sound of your breathing, each inhale a struggle, sweat slicking your skin, catching the light of the moon in fragile glimmers. The silence stretched out, thick with unspoken tension, the weight of what had just transpired hanging between you like a shroud, heavy and unresolved.

His mind was a blur, thoughts scattered and jumbled, short-circuiting in a way that left him dizzy. He couldn’t make sense of the guilt spiraling through him, the crushing weight of having crossed a line he hadn’t even seen until it was too late. Until you said what you had said.

That you loved him.

He removes his chest from your back, pulling himself out of you in the process.

Jayce reached for you, his hands trembling as he gently grasped your shoulders, his touch softer than it had been all night. His fingers barely brushed your skin, as if afraid to make contact after everything that had just happened. With a careful, almost reverent motion, he spun you around to face him. The moment your eyes met, his chest seemed to cave in on itself, a sickening weight settling there.

His heart felt like it had physically dropped, plummeting to the pit of his stomach with a sickening thud. The sight of you, tears streaking down your face, the raw anguish in your expression—it shattered him. Every ounce of anger, every moment of fury that had driven him earlier seemed like a distant memory in the face of the heartbreak he had caused.

How could he have been so reckless? The thought screamed in his mind, impossible to silence. The guilt that gripped him now was suffocating, crushing. He’d seen your pain in the heat of the moment, but now it hit him full force—really hit him. The tears in your eyes weren’t just a reminder of what he’d done; they were a reflection of how far he had pushed you, how little he had cared in the frenzy of his own anger.

And now, standing in front of you, he couldn’t undo it. All he could do was stare at the damage he had inflicted, helpless, terrified of what he’d become.

“___…” He whispers.

#jayce x reader #arcane imagine #arcane #arcane smut #jayce x reader smut #jayce talis x reader smut #jayce x reader angst #jayce talis angst #jayce talis smut #jayce arcane #jayce smut #jayce talis x reader angst

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mariasont · 9 months ago

Text

aaron hotchner masterlist

smut = ✧ clean (ish) = ♡ angst = ✩

this list goes oldest to newest! (idk why i did it like that but im too lazy to change it now)

fics:

✧ our minds entwined WIP paused!

one shots:

♡ marked territory: you are not happy about a consultant trying to make a move on your man

✧ negotiation with mr. h pt 1 pt 2: hotch doesn't know what to do when his nanny flirts with him out of the blue

♡ bumper to bumper: you can't seem to park your car and hotch is the man to help

♡ office sleepover: you get put on a hit list and have to stay over at the office pt 1, pt 2, pt 3

✩ the manuscript: you find a series of letters aaron wrote you in college

✩♡ talking to a brick wall: you overheard aaron’s not so nice words about you

✧ spoiled: in which hotch overhears your conversation with penelope and decides to do something about it

♡ some profiler you are: in which hotch insists you stay with him after you get shot

✧ ideas from a book: in which hotch catches you reading smut and finds out you have a gun kink

♡ give this old man a heart attack: you almost get yourself killed on a case and hotch has some choice words about it

♡ they think i'm pregnant: the team thinks you're pregnant and you decide to have a little fun with it

✩ please, don't prove 'em right: aaron hotchner is a busy man and he tends to disappoint you by missing important events pt 1, pt 2

♡ stupid crush: being the youngest member of the bau you think you have no shot with your hot boss

♡ late night podcast: hotch finds you fast asleep to the soothing sound of a seriel killer podcast

✩♡ too emotional: you and hotch are taken hostage, hotch makes some comments, but is it part of the plan or did he mean that?

♡ dangerous: you get hit with some laughing gas and become much more bold and flirty with your boss

♡ schoolboy-esque: spencer and hotch spend the day competing for your attention

♡ secret nicknames: hotch accidentally calls you your middle name at work causing suspicion in the team

✧ let me take care of you: you had a rough day at work and hotch decides to draw you a bath and help you relax with a couple creative methods

✩♡ softly, slowly: you have a hard time opening up because of a past of your mom being dismissive with your feelings but hotch is slowly helping you overcome that

✧ short skirt, long day: on paperwork days you tend to wear short skirts, one day perv!aaron decides to take advantage of that

nanny!reader

♡ laundry day: hotch notices a difference in how his clothes smell and realizes his nanny might have something to do with that

♡ parent-teacher conference: nanny!reader isn't too happy about a teacher trying to flirt with her boss

♡ date night: nanny!reader comes home after the worst date

♡ career day: mr. hotchner can't make jack's career day so nanny!reader steps in and maybe embellishes just a smidge about how the fbi works

bimbo!assistant!reader

♡ my assistant: bimbo!assistant!reader can't reach a book so hotch helps you out

♡ my boss won’t be happy about this: bimbo!assistant!reader is wrongfully arrested and hotch is not happy about it

♡ strawberry wine: hotch is a lot more flirty when he's got some alcohol in him (bimbo!assistant!reader)

♡ semantics: bimbo!assistant!reader flirts with an officer that has been driving hotch mad all day

♡ jealousy, jealousy: a witness flirts with hotch and bimbo!assistant!reader thinks that hotch is reciprocating

♡ good luck charm: bimbo!assistant!reader is gone for the morning and leaves hotch a couple sticky notes

♡ training day: bimbo!assistant!reader doesn't understand why hotch is giving her training lessons, but apparently he thinks she needs it

♡ talk about a bad date: bimbo!assistant!reader went on a shitty ass date and calls hotch to her rescue

♡ rainy with a chance of hotch: bimbo!assistant!reader gets caught in the rain

♡ business of making babies: bimbo!assistant!reader gets hotch worked up at the casual mention of kids

♡ smiling like a fool: hotch is the one making bimbo!assistant!reader flustered for once

♡ lovely menace: hotch and bimbo!assistant!reader are in an established relationship and reader lovessss to be a menace at work

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moonsaver · 8 months ago

Note

Do you have any thoughts about the opposite of the "Im afraid to confess because our friendship could get ruined"? As in, "I'm afraid to reject you because I don't want to lose this friendship so I accept your confession even though I don't feel that way for you and never will".

Like the protagonist tries to convince themselves that this is just like being friends only that we now kiss (and more). I feel like it would fit with a yandere that is a bit delusional or desperate, eveb insecure so whenever the protagonist doesnt seem as into this relationship as them, they just try to convince themselves otherwise, or love bomb the protagonist.

Idk lately Ive been into reversing the tropes and I found this one particularly interesting to me when it comes to a yandere. In HSR i was thinking of Argenti as he seems like the delusional type. Or even Aventurine who would have had to put down a lot of walls to be friends with you and then even more walls just to confess, so rejecting him doesnt seem like an option to the protag (out of pity and care).

THIS THIS THIS!!!! qnon ur brain is so wrinkly and soggy with brain juice..... this used to be my favorite trope at some point idk why i forgot about it i remember eating up any fanfics out there based on this

Tw: yandere (obv), manipulation, intimacy (mainly romantic, only hints of sexual), emotional blackmailing, whatever yadda yadda

But anyways, under the cut!

Okay, so, I imagine this is possible with literally... almost all of hsr's cast. Mainly because most of them have such tragic backstories, and most of them out of that have a really shrewd and cunning mind, so they'll exploit this to hell and back.

I also imagine this is with a people pleasing reader, so lets go with a bit of implication of that.

Anyways, since Aventurine and Argenti are the ones mentioned specifically, I'll probably dive in on them first.

Aventurine is so hard to not feel pity for. Every stolen glance at the marking on his neck makes you feel worse and worse for "rejecting him", knowing he's been throwing signs of wanting more than a friendship quite possibly everywhere and you're most likely ignoring them in hopes of keeping your friendship. It's not like he hasn't quite caught on, either. He knows people's hearts quite well. And where there's opportunity, he seizes it.

It's a bit frustrating for him – just why can't you see he wants more? Or rather, just why aren't you accepting him? You're the first thing on his mind when he wakes up, when he clutches his chip and bets on his life, the last thing on his mind when he goes to sleep. Hell, he's even tried to dream of you, forcefully. But then he realizes.. how easy you are to just push around. He goes ahead with the confession, and it's almost a sadistic kind of pleasure when he sees you even try and stutter out any kind of a rejection when he's leaning in a perfect angle that shows off his little marking (out of all the times he curses it, it seems like this time it's worked in his favor). He watches carefully as your eyes nervously flit to his neck and you shut up immediately for a second, before accepting. And when you do.. he's over the moon! Coddles you, kisses your cheeks, becomes so much more grabby, as his keen eyes watch your discomfort. Well.. you didn't reject him, so this is what you should expect.

Again, the frustration doesn't wear off easily, but just seeing you writhe and try to create distance while he suffocates you in affection far from platonic nature, is so sadistically pleasuring to him. He loves watching you in that state, bending to his will so easily, as he waits for you to snap. But he'll probably find it easier to squeeze water out of a rock than to squeeze a rejection out of you – which is precisely what he exploits. You're not going anywhere, are you? He puts on his best, pleading little eyes that he used to have to put on, shaking, trembling voice, desperate hands that cling to you; all the things he acts out like his life depends on it when he senses even a waver of your hesitation.

Oh, fine.. he hates seeing you so queasy almost all the time, so he'll give you a reprieve from time to time. Plans and schedules things you used to do "back when you were friends" (he emphasizes this – you don't think you can just ignore everything, right?), and makes sure to at least crack a few smiles and giggles from you. Of course.. his hand is still loosely hanging around your waist, pecks you on the lips from time to time, just as a small reminder of what you guys really are now.

Argenti on the other hand, has no awareness of your discomfort at all.

He's like a huge dog, the way he's so happy about you accepting his confession and doesn't even stop to think afterwards just why you were so hesitant during it.

Constantly praises you, and it's not soon before it gets to a more intimate nature. He wants to do all the romantic things – kissing under the rain, protecting you from something, twirling you in the air and then kissing you again after putting you down, telling everyone proudly that you two are a couple, buying more and more "romantic" gifts that turn more intimate sooner or later. You have no way out of this without completely ruining everything.

It's.. almost painful the way he doesn't realise. At some point your discomfort probably gets so.. obvious, but he just shrugs it off; perhaps he hasn't been paying you enough attention? Or you're just too shy to ask something of him? Oh, how sweet! How adorable! He thinks. He simply falls deeper and deeper into this delusion, stringing you along and stretching your patience thin. Unfortunately, unlike Aventurine, you can't find most, if any bits of the things you both used to do as platonic companions in the relationship you have with Argenti. He's just a full-blown romantic who wants to do only that. It makes you even more queasy when people look at you in pity, if they realize just what happened between you two.

You can't back out, even if you tried. If you somehow manage to find a way to squeeze out a rejection, or have any kind of a reservation about things getting more intimate/romantic stuff, he's so devastated. Did he do something wrong? Perhaps he's not as experienced as you wanted him to be? Or you're not satisfied with some of the things he's said? Don't fret, he's right on it! Constantly holding you so close you're afraid your bones will break, whispering incessant praises into your ear that slowly spiral into affirmations that you belong to him, spoiled rotten with everything you want; yet, even then.. you can't shake off the intention they were given in. Not when you're suffocated by it.

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bbyquokka · 4 months ago

Text

fizzy pop

– yn has a habit of bottling up their emotions, chan comforts them & explains the importance of communicating about feelings/emotions.

pairing | bang chan x gender neutral reader

genre | angst w comfort – 18+ is strongly advised!

cw | established relationship, mental health (low moods, low/no motivation, lose of interest in hobbies/things), pet names.

words | 2k ~ ( 2,042 )

notes | idk why but i've been putting off on posting this for months, maybe bc im nervous 🤔 don’t forget to leave feedback, reblog and tell me what you think here. i hope you all enjoy! ‹3

m.list — wips list — you can also read it on my ao3

dont repost. dont translate. minors, ageless & default blogs; dni! feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

it's just another day. another day of just being there. another day of feeling like you have no purpose in life except to please others. another day of wondering “what is the purpose of me being here?” you fake smiles, say you're "ok" because saying how you actually feel is exhausting.

aside from it feeling exhausting, you also don't want to draw attention to yourself and when you do speak, you feel stupid for doing so, so you keep it all in, bottle it up until it's too much for you to handle. some days you wonder why you even bother to get out off bed.

is it because of the birds you hear outside? the sun's heat that you want to feel on your skin? could it be the laughter and chitter chatter of others? or maybe you want to hear the rain on the leaves–who knows. all you know is that everyday is the same and it's tiring.

the days merge into one. what day is it even? monday? tuesday? oh wait, it's saturday morning. time doesn't exist anymore. in your mind you see no point in getting up out of bed because again, what's the point?

so why is it that your boyfriend is gently shaking you, asking, no, begging you to get up.

“darlin'. please get up.” chan whispers as he gently shakes you by the shoulders. you sigh deeply, a tired sigh that causes chan to swallow and his suspicions to come to light.

you pull the duvet over your head, body curled in a small and fragile ball. the curtains are still drawn providing darkness despite the morning rays that wish to peak inside.

chan has been up since the crack of dawn. he has showered, made breakfast and managed to get dressed. he gave you some extra time to sleep in because he knows you're not a morning person but when the number nine on his watch turned to twelve and you're still not up and out, does he grow concerned.

he's had his suspicions for a while. he's noticed how defeated you sound. how there is little to no energy in the words you speak. he's tried everything to cheer you up, thinking, hoping you were just having an off day. but that off day turned into an off week which slowly, but surely, turned into an off month.

you lost your passion for being creative, lost the will to make anything which you despise. being creative is one of the many pleasures you have in life, to be able to make something and share your creations with others is exhilarating but when you feel like this, your mood turns bitter and cold towards everything you do which results in you resenting everything you create.

you lost the energy to speak to people. to pick up the phone and just talk. you're not deliberately ignoring nor trying to be difficult but keeping conversations flowing is just too hard right now and when you think they're giving you the same energy back do you feel so guilty.

what have i done to deserve this? why am i forced to feel like this. you find yourself questioning everything late at night. your head loud as soon as it hits the pillow and no amount of music you blast down your ears can silence those thoughts.

everything is so exhausting. everything is the same. you just want to disappear whether that be for a few days or forever, you're not quite sure, but certain people around you wont allow that to happen. they are keeping you afloat, head above water. you desperately and silently wish they never let you go, no matter how hard you fight and push them away.

“baby, please.” chan's words dripped with desperation. his knees on the bed behind you as he kneels causing the mattress to dip. his hands on your shoulders gently as his eyes bore into the duvet, burning holes into it until he is burning holes into you. tears threaten to spill down his soft cheeks as he becomes increasingly worried for you.

“chan..“ you whisper, your words shaking. “please.. leave me alone.”

he swallows. those three last words he hates to hear. now he is left in a difficult position. should he do as you say and leave you? leave you to fester and rot in your own thoughts and feelings. watch you melt into the mattress and become nothing but a lifeless shell. or should he force himself, force you to acknowledge him. show you, tell you that's it's going to be ok–even if you don't believe him in the beginning.

but this is chan and you know more than anyone how stubborn chan can be.

“lets go take a shower yn, together! and maybe we can go out and get lunch at that café you love so much?”

silence.

“or how about we go to that art shop! pick up those water colours you've been eyeing up for months?”

silence.

“ok well, what about some new cloth–”

“chan please!” you snap, causing him to jump. “what part of leave me alone don't you understand?!”

you don't mean to sound harsh and you hope chan doesn't take it to heart. the last thing you want is to hurt the one person you adore so much. luckily, chan knows you don't mean it but it doesn't hurt him any less.

“all of it.” he softly speaks. you feel the weight being lifted up off the mattress and footsteps against the wood flooring before the bedroom door squeaks open at the hinges.

your heart breaks. hot angry tears finally being set free and rolling down the bridge of your nose and cheeks, soaking into the material of your pillow. you sob, curling up into a ball even more as your heart aches in your chest. you grip onto the pillow as you silently cry out for chan, thinking he has completely left you alone.

but you did ask for it so why do you feel so guilty?

the duvet gets pulled back from you, the cold air hitting your hot and sweaty skin. the mattress dips once again as an arm snakes over your midriff. chest being pressed against your back as chan spoons you.

“don't cry, darlin'. i'm here, your channie is here.” his soft words provide you with a sense of comfort and an indescribable feeling of warmth as well as relief. his hand strokes your soft stomach, his lips kissing your neck so tenderly you worry that he isn't really there.

“c-chan…” you sob through your words as a way of confirmation. you can't breathe, the pain of everything that's built up over the past months is making it impossible for you to breathe. your mind fogs over as your chest heaves up and down.

you struggle to take breaths as tears stream down your face. your pillow becomes soaked with your tears. chan strokes your unwashed hair gently, hushing you and singing softly to help ground you.

“sh sh sh. you're ok, you're safe.” he whispers.

“sorry! i'm sorry!” you repeat over and over again in your fits of tears. chan continues to hush you, noticing that it's not working so he gently rolls you over to face him and pulls you into his naked chest.

the warmth and softness of his skin calms you down in an instant. his natural scent hugs your nostrils and sinks into your heart, soothing your heartbeat as well as your mind. you grip onto him, desperately trying to cling onto something before resulting in wrapping your arms around him tightly.

he gives you a bear hug. arms around your shoulders gently, fingers raking and massaging your scalp. his chest wet with tears as he continues to hush you through your episode.

there isn't much he can do when you're crying like this except wait. wait for it to pass–and it does, fifteen minutes later.

“better?” he gently asks. you peer up at him to notice that his own cheeks are wet with a few tears slowly falling.

“you're crying..” you whisper as you reach up and wipe the tears away. chan laughs softly before leaning into your touch. “why?”

“because it pains me to see you like this, my love.” that guilt comes back, settling in your stomach and wrapping itself around your heart, like black fog. you look down, tears falling from your lower lash line.

“sorry..” you mumble.

“hey.” chan unwraps his arms from you to gently lift up your head. “it hurts because i can't do anything about it. it hurts because i love you! seeing you in so much pain is rough darling. and it's not physical pain either, it's not like i can put a band aid on your wound.”

“i'm sorry i'm like this, chan. sorry i'm so difficult and such a disappointment.”

“oi.” his tone of voice turns stern which causes you to look up at him. his brows furrowed together as he reaches and strokes your cheek. “you're not a disappointment or difficult baby. it's ok to feel like this, to have off days and feel like nothing is right, however, you have to come to me when you feel like this! or if you can't come to me, talk to a friend.”

“but i hate talking about my feelings, chan.. i feel like a burden and that it just bores people and when i do confined in people, it feels like i don't get the comfort i expect to get so i'm left thinking if it's worth it and if i just expect too much from people.”

“what have i told you about bottling things up, mhm?”

“that it's just going to keep building and building until i explode.” you mumble to which chan hums and nods too

“imagine you're a bottle of fizzy pop. your body is the bottle, your feelings are the fizzy liquid. what happens when you shake a bottle of fizzy pop?”

“it bubbles and explodes, creating a huge mess.”

“and what happens when you bottle your feelings up?”

“i get shaken up by the smallest of things, which causes me to bubble and explode..”

“mhm. you have to remember, my darling, that how you feel is valid. your feelings are valid. you might seem like it's something so small or stupid, but that something small could build and build and build.”

“so i should come to you whenever i feel negative?”

“yes.”

“even if i'm frustrated at a piece of work? even if i can't get a recipe right and it annoys me?”

“yes.”

“but that is so small and not as important..”

“yn, if it's bothering you then it's big. if it's bothering you, it's important to me. if you feel angry, upset, energy less, i beg that you come to me or to a friend! it's important that we voice these things, let it be known because you'll feel better.” he tucks your hair behind your ear gently before you nuzzle into his chest, thinking about what he's saying.

he is correct. he always is and that's the thing that sometimes bothers you, but in a good way! it just means that you can't hide anything from chan, whether it's good or bad and when you are feeling down, chan is always there to pick you back up and dust you off, providing you with love and comfort.

“shall we go shower together to start the day?”

“isnt it a bit late for that? besides, hasn't your day already started?” you mumble against his chest.

“it's never too late to start the day and besides, i don't mind ‘restarting’ my day if it means i get to do it with you.” he kisses the top of your head gently, stroking your back as you tangle your legs with his.

“soon.”

“soon?” he questions.

“i just want to spend some more minutes with you..”

“we can spend as many minutes together as you like, my darling. as long as you're happy and content.”

“i'm always happy and content with you, chan. you're my safe space.”

“and i hope i continue to be and provide you with that safe space, yn.”

#kwritersworldnet #wkcnet #straykidsland #skz angst #skz comfort #stray kids angst #stray kids comfort #bang chan #chan #chan x you #chan x reader #bang chan x you #bang chan x reader #skz x you #skz x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader

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yourfavepookiebear · 6 months ago

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Hii, can i make a request? Yandere and self aware twisted wonderland please?

So the characters could hear the player after some time, although it is very difficult unless you pay attention, they actually don't know the appearance of the player!

But yeah, yandere Heartslabyul with a player who's pretty expressive? Like whenever something frustrates them they'd almost always curse out loud, when something makes them happy and satisfied they'd yell out a "Yes! Oh my god bro", etc

Okay so basically a player like me (and many others), cool, got it. (Im panicking I suck at writing for heartslabyul) I fucked up at ace's part idk what to write for him

God the old hag is waking up

Rushed asf

Riddle Rosehearts

You're pretty easy to read, at least on the terms of mood and emotion, which could be considered a good thing for him ?

At first he didn't believe it, because how could the player be anything but perfect ?

But then he realized that you don't need to be emotionless to be perfect.

Now this vaguely depends on whether we're talking about before OB or after OB Riddle, but if it's after OB then he doesn't mind it much

In fact, he likes hearing you mumble in frustration whenever you lose or see something irritating, it makes him...melancholic, in a way. Because these are all the signs that you're pretty normal just like them, you feel. It reassures him sometimes, to know that.

It's pretty cute and funny to him, but he won't show it

Hates that you show that side of yourself to others, he wants to be the only one to see this, but alas..not much can be done.

At least, not within the rules.

Cater Diamond

A bit like Riddle, it's sorta funny for him. God he wishes he could tease you, but he can't because of the damn programming..

Will definitely sneakily film it or record it he can't pass up on such an opportunity !

Depending on his mood he may or may not post it as well, but most likely on his private account

Can't have anyone else seeing such a cute thing, can we ?

Trey Clover

Now this is a bit complicated (more so than the others)

He wouldn't show it on the outside ofc, but he finds it endearing. (everyone does.)

May or may not crack a little smile when he sees you jumping in joy (or banging your head on the wall in frustration)

Doesn't care what others think about it, he will listen to your little outbursts with all ears.

And if anyone dares to comment about it, they better get ready for hell.

Deuce Spade

Doesn't really know what to think about it,

Ofc like everyone else he loves to hear you jump in joy or excitement, but frowns when you whine or complain about something

You deserve the very best !! If he could, he'd do anything to make you happy, just to see your little smile

God he wishes he was with you, but he can't...except-

Right, maybe draconia could help him with this.

Ace (I forgot his last name)

Oh well.

Seeing how expressive you are, he would definitely sneak in a few teases in his dialogues.

You know that cheeky smile of his ? Yeah, that's the one he has

Unlike a few others, he doesn't care if you're jumping in joy or in sadness, all he cares about is hearing you, seeing you..

Don't worry, soon enough, you'll be right next to him. So if you one day wake up to find yourself locked up in a room, just know that he means no harm

He can't help but wonder what you look like...ah, no use thinking about that since you'll be here soon.

This sucks ass ngl, my writing is trash right now but whatever

I did better than I thought since it's been a few months since I last wrote anything

Dividers by @cafekitsune

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yoredoesmore · 5 months ago

Note

hallooo,it's me again:)) may I request soshiro x reader forced marriage angst but happy ending

I hope I'm not bothering you:). it's ok if you don't want to make it

a/n: i could never say no to such a beautiful request! i love writing angst muahaha

pairing: hoshina soshiro x blind!reader

cw: forced marriage, physical and emotional abuse

genre: angst/ hurt comfort/romance/fluff [wc: 2,9k ]

a/n: this story takes place in the meiji era!

a/n: i am so upset the fic idea in my head was so cute but now that im proof reading its ass 😭 i am so not satisfied with this but maybe a part two will safe it idk rip 😭 and i have to post something can't have u guys go to bed/work/whatever unfed 😔

edited a/n: is this even forced marriage omg 😭🐵

still, enjoy!

A Vision of Love | Hoshina Soshiro

The world around you had long lost its colors. Your vision was plagued, cursed to pick up the world in vibrations and tones instead of images.

The gods have plotted against your existence long before you had been born, cursing the path you were destined to walk on with failure and hardship.

“You are no child of mine!”

The feeling of your father's hand was imprinted in both your memories and mind. A gruesome sensation, one that had no problems seeking you unannounced. On some days the beast would simply barge into your chambers, striking you to his heart's content.

And for what? All for being unable to carry out his legacy.

“Blind and weak, we should have killed you the second we saw those impurities!”

No day passed by when he wasn't cursing your existence but you had been all too used to it..

You sat kneeled on the engawa of your estate, scrubbing the long corridor facing the entrance. It was one of the many tasks given to you which had to be completed by noon. Pearls of sweat accumulated on your forehead, dripping down the side of your face and staining the cloth of your clothes but that told you that you were almost done.

You heard voices chatting in the distance. Some belonging to your family members and others to the Kaseifu, yet you were able to make out three voices foreign to your ears.

“Please come this way.”

Your father greeted the guests with fake hospitality. It irked you immensely, listening to him put up an act of dishonesty but there was nothing you could have done about it.

As soon as you finished up your work, you brought away the cloth and the rag and hurried back to your room using the back entrance. No using the main entrance when guests are around– another strict rule you had to follow.

They stopped bothering you a long time ago, the harsh rules and strict regulations forced upon you by your family. It was unfortunately not just your father who harassed you but also your mother and siblings– though their approaches of breaking your spirit were more subtle. They whispered and gossiped, calling you all kinds of names to lower your spirit.

All to make themselves feel better.

Your family was a renown clan known for its fighting skills and birthing people of strong flesh. In the world of Kaiju slayers, your family stood on top with another handful of carefully selected clans. But as dysfunctional as you were, ripped of your vision at birth and your laughable body, there was no place for you in the limelight. Thus you had been hidden away in the back of your clan, mixed with the maids and housekeepers to keep the knowledge about your existence to a minimum.

But all that was about to change.

“Lady Y/n.”

The voice of Madam Kiyoko called out for you, the only woman to treat you with kindness in this place.

“Yes, Madam Kiyoko?”

The woman's voice was gentle and sweet, like honey and milk. It calmed your heart and made you feel loved in a way you were unable to experience anywhere else. But this time something lingered in her voice? A hint of grief? Frustration? Even without seeing her face, you somehow knew that the woman was not displaying a smile on her lips.

“I was sent by your father. ..You are to pack your things immediately and prepare yourself for permanent departure..”

“Permanent..excuse me?” The tone in Kiyoko's voice painted your ears, so much that you wished to cover them and hide away.

“Your father has..given you away to another family, therefore I wish to congratulate you on your engagement.” The fabrics of Kiyoko's Kimono shifted, hinting to you that she had gone down to her knees.

There was no word that could properly describe the look of horror on your face. Pain, disgust and vexation– all these emotions tugged on your heart, forcing it to fall into unbearable agony. You suddenly felt all strength leaving your legs, forcing you to fall to the ground.

Hot tears ran down your face as you allowed muffled cries to escape your mouth. You wanted to scream and curse, run over to your father and rip all air from his lungs..

But you of all people knew too well that this day would have come sooner or later.

How else were you going to get engaged? You, who was unable to leave her house without supervision. You, who was seen as garbage in her own home. This was long overdue.

“Lady Y,n..we mustn't waste any time.” Madam Kiyoko spoke, her arms wrapping around yours to lift you back up.

“No..I don't want to, they can't do this!” Although living here was torture, it was the only home you have ever know. A small part of you always hoped to just die here. Life was cruel but at least there was food and a bed waiting for you at the end of each day. There was no telling how the people outside these gates were going to treat a blind woman like you, especially a family selected by your father. The unknown was much more intimidating than the familiar horrors.

“Child, I beg of you to grasp your heart and look at the future with confidence.” The woman tried to encourage you to take the situation with pride. But you couldn't. The fact that someone had accepted you as a wife could only mean that they were worse off than you. Who else would accept such worthless and weak soul into their family? Or perhaps they were like your family, looking forward to abuse and make use of you.

“You musn't refuse your duty as a woman, Lady Y/n, as a daughter of this house. I beg you.” Madam Kiyoko pulled you back up and dusted your Kimono.

“I know that this treatment is unjust and sudden, but anywhere in this world is better than here.”

“But I don't mind the horror! The pain and the humiliation..because I have you..”

Once again the tone in the woman's voice tugged on your heartstrings. The truth in her statement tasted bitter on your tongue. You did not wish to admit that she was right, that living here was a hell your body couldn't bear much longer.

Madam Kiyoko walked you to your chambers and helped you pack your belongings. There wasn't much, only a few essentials which you held dear. As you were preparing for your departure, you heard a soft chuckle from behind you.

“I heard that the Hoshina clan is as good as useless in this modern day and age, since the Kaiju have grown in size.” One of your sisters snickered from behind you.

“Yeah, and that their sons are as incapable as they come.” Your brother mocked.

Their voices were mere background sounds, easy to blend out. Your fingers traced themselves over the silver hairpin in your hand, a gift from the Madam.

“I will forget all about you once I leave this home. The memories, your voices and your scent. What a blessing it ends up being to be born blind, as I have no faces which I will have to wipe from my memories.” Your words stung your siblings in the guts. One of them stepped forward, your brother, ready to strike you down. But madam Kiyoko quickly extended her hand to shield your body from the abuse.

“Do not dare touch the Lady. She is an engaged woman now and therefore no longer under the rule of this household. Striking her would mean raising your hands against the Hoshina clan and I highly suggest that you do not make yourself an enemy of them.”

“She won't survive a week outside these gates. Compared to the people outside, our treatment was merciful. In this day and age there is no space for those who cannot protect themselves, tsk.” Your brother gave you one last glare before he and your sister left your room.

“This family can no longer harm you, child. So look at your future and smile, don't listen to his nonsense.” The warm hands of the woman embrace you in a comforting hug. If only you could take her with you and start your new life together..it was a hopeless wish but one you hung onto regardless

Nobody came to send you off besides Lady Kiyoko. With your bag packed and your heart set to leave, you approached the front gate. You refused to look back as you walked into your new life, each step feeling foreign and intimidating.

You were raised in a traditional household. From the building to the rules it reminded you of the old times. Therefore standing in front of the public transport with no navigation or sense of familiarity deeply frightened you. You could feel them all watching, the people on the train. Surely they were judging your lack of vision and pitying your weak form.

It took you quite some time to arrive at the destination, the lack of any known directions making the journey much more treacherous. But after two hours, you finally arrived at the Houshina estate. If it had been for the old couple you met at your station who guided you all the way here you would have been lost for sure.

“That is just the path we wanted to take!”

They said and took you by the hand. It felt strange, putting your trust into two unknown strangers. For a good minute you believed that they were leading you to a nearby cliff, for whatever reason. But your doubt slowly vanished as they began to talk about their day and all the errands which they had to run.

You took a deep breath and fixed your Kimono before knocking at the gate. There was no guarantee that anybody was going to hear you but this was the only way you knew how to make yourself known.

After around five minutes and almost giving up hope, you heard a shift in motion. The gate opened and before you stood a stranger. They didn't say anything and simply looked you up and down you assumed. Then they spoke up.

“Oh, it's you.”

What an interesting dialect..

Unsure of who was standing before you, you went down on your knees to show your respects.

“My name is L/n Y/n and I am the betrothed of Hoshina Soshiro. It is my utmost pleasure to meet you.”

“There is no need to be so formal, please. And get up, ya Kimono is getting all dirty.” A pair of strong hands suddenly placed themselves on your shoulders and helped you find your way back up.

A scent so sweet was attached to the stranger, one that had a strange note to it. Yet you stayed focused and continued the conversation.

“Did you come here all by yourself??” The stranger sounded almost appalled.

“Yes..is there a problem with that?”

“Your family reassured us that they were going to send someone with you, since you are..”

His eyes locked with yours. Light gray orbs sat in your sockets, robbed of all light. Yet there was a glimmer inside them, one that shone brighter than the sun itself.

“Excuse me for asking, but who am I speaking to?”

“I am just a housekeeper. Anyway, let's get ya inside and perhaps, you must have a long journey behind you.”

“Thank you very much.” The housekeeper took your hands in his, a soft warmth spreading over your entire body. His bold action startled you slightly but you did not allow your discomfort to display on your face.

“Not having an official wedding must be quite frustrating I believe?”

Is this..smalltalk?

“I never clung to the desire of partaking in such festivity. I was told from a very young age that I wasn't deserving of a wedding, let alone marriage. My father eventually giving me away to a family with no future was to be expected.”

“A family with no future?”

“Oh my, I didn't mean it like that! I apologize for insulting your masters..”

“No offense taken. I understand what ya were trying to say.” The soft sliding of wooden doors indicated to you that you were now entering the building. Almost immediately you were greeted by the sweet scent of lavender and tangerines, two odors that completed one another perfectly.

The housekeeper continued to guide you through the building, holding on to your hand so tight you feared he was going to melt into you. Yet despite his grip being so fierce, his touch was gentle and almost protective. You were not used to such kindness, therefore you found it difficult to express your gratitude once he let go when you arrived in the space which you believed was your room.

“When will the rest of your belongings arrive?” The housekeeper asked while taking the bag from your hands. Your silence said all he needed to know.

“If you need anything, don't hesitate to–”

“Young Master? A letter has arrived from the Anti-Kaiju Defense Force, requesting your presence. Oh and has the young woman arrived already? We heard the gates–”

..Master?

Your head turned to meet the voice at the door. A young woman, you assumed, stood at the entrance of your room, her words and turn indicating that she was talking to the housekeeper.

“Oh, she is already here?? Why wasn't your father notified!” The woman scolded.

“Thank you Ayame, I will see to the letter shortly. And I wanted some alone time with her first, I'm sure my father will understand."

All the woman did was sigh, as if she was too used to his behavior and excused herself from the room.

It didn't even take you five seconds to realize what was going on. Your face froze up upon realizing, a soft gasp leaving from your lips.

“I..apologize for deceiving you.” Soshiro sighed. “I didn't know how to properly introduce myself when I saw you back then and just went with the moment.”

Embarrassed? Shame? Anxiety? You did not know what to feel first. The words you spoke only minutes ago suddenly came back to hit you like whiplash. You just told your soon to be husband that you had no faith in his family, to his face, the gods were probably laughing at you right now. Not just them, but also your siblings and parents.

Their voices rang through your ears, eating at your consciousness. Not even a day had passed and you already managed to screw up, what a twisted joke this was.

“Ya ain't upset with me, right?”

All thoughts suddenly started to disappear into thin air as his fingers once again wrapped themselves around your hands. Only now did you realize how soft they were, like sunflower petals. And the distant scent of vanilla that lingered on his skin, it was soothing in a way you could not describe.

In an instant you found yourself calming down and remembered that you were no longer in that household. Five minutes have been spent in this foreign place so far, yet it felt much more comforting than your old home. Why was that?

“Saying that your family has no future when I am the one who lacks the ability to function properly..I am so very sorry..”

“Don't tell me yer apologizing for being blind?” Soshiro placed one of his hands on your head, gently caressing your hair with his fingers.

“I don't know much about ya or what you went through before. All I was told is that your family did not think highly of ya and therefore signed you away to the next available family. But just by looking at ya I can tell that you are much more valuable than ya think.” And with that said, Soshiro gave your head a light squeeze.

These gentle touches were so new to you. Being embraced in such a loving way and taken by the hand as if you were too important to lose– and not to mention by a man you just met..it all felt quite unreal.

Soshiro suddenly started to move away from you, the lack of his warmth mildly bothering your conscience, but he had somewhere important to be.

“We shall converse more once I return from my appointment, most likely together with my father. The others will want to meet you so prepare yourself for that. If they barge into your room feel free to send them away”

“Send them away? I could never do that” Hosanna laughed although you didn't say anything funny?

“Im looking forward to future interactions.”

“I..me too.”

To have something to look forward to..did you ever have that in your life? The feelings in your heart were difficult to describe. Was it truly possible for you to find happiness in a place full of strangers and foreign emotions? To seek comfort in the arms of a man you barely even knew? As Soshiro walked out of your room, you quickly searched for the hair pin that Madam Kiyoko had gifted to you. Your fingers embraced it tight, trying to recreate the warmth which you felt moments ago.

Something deep down in your heart wanted to trust his words and believe that you too could experience true happiness in this lifetime. Therefore you desperately held onto this vision of love, in hopes that one day your future would be painted in its beautiful colors.

#yoredoesmore #anime fanfic #x reader #hoshina soshiro x reader #kaiju no. 8 #soshiro hoshina #request #romance #hoshina x reader #angst #hurt/comfort #forced marriage

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luvrseung · 1 year ago

Text

𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬

## pairing(s)! motorcycle driver heeseung! x yn!

## synopsis! yn's life takes an unexpected turn when she catches her boyfriend cheating on her and she meets the mysterious Heeseung, a captivating man on a motorcycle. After a brief yet memorable encounter, he vanishes, leaving her longing for more. Months later, they cross paths again. Yn's mixed emotions and Heeseung's determination do they have a happy ending?

## genre! not too bad angst, fluff at the end ! Idk dude I just work here

## wc! 8.9k

## warning(s)! cursing, and not much else?? but if u feel like there should be a warning for anything else, please let me know asap!!

## a/n! THIS IS MY LONGEST FIC EVER EVERRRRR. its currently 4:15 am as i post this and i have class at 11! hahaha.. anyways. inspo hit me like a truck... well, like a motorcycle HEHEHE. ahem.. okay. i hope you guys like this i really enjoyed writing it! please send me any feedback! mwah mwah i love uu i go sleep now! also pls don't mind any typos or errors im so delirious rn thank u bye bye

You step out of the dimly lit restroom, returning to the bar, only to find an empty seat beside you, where your boyfriend was seated just moments ago. His jacket remains draped over the backrest, a silent testament to his brief absence. Curiosity piques your interest as you assume he must have also ventured to the restroom. Settling in, you rest your head on your hand, elbow propped against the sleek bar, and survey the vibrant club that surrounds you. The music's thunderous pulse reverberates through your chest, infusing the air with almost a tangible energy. A sensual blend of alcohol and alluring perfumes weaves a heavy tapestry which fills your senses. In this tantalizing environment, the crowd is a dynamic kaleidoscope of movement and emotion—dancers, laughter, clinking glasses, tendrils of smoke swirling upward—each contributing to the sensory feast. Among the sea of passion and revelry, a singular couple draws your unwavering attention. Their fervent embrace seems to defy the boundaries of time and space, an intense kiss that hangs on the precipice of necessity. In an instant, your heart plummets, and the couple reluctantly disentangles from each other. As your gaze locks onto their faces, the unfolding revelation leaves you breathless.

As you rise from your barstool, your steps carry a mix of uncertainty and disbelief, drawing you inexorably toward the pulsating heart of the dance floor. The scene before your eyes demands confirmation, and what you find shatters your world in an instant. There, under the chaotic spell of the music's relentless rhythm, stands your boyfriend, now a stranger, locked in a passionate embrace with another woman. Her arms are a seductive snakily coil around the back of his neck, and their laughter mingles with the infectious beats of the music, now assaulting your ears as you reach the realization of betrayal. A concoction of emotions—upset, betrayal, and the intoxicating fumes of alcohol—swirl within you, drawing you forward as the heat crawls up your face and flows into the rest of your body. Your feet guide you through the trembling beat, and, with a burst of fiery rage, you confront the pair. In an act of defiance and heartbreak, your open palm collides with your now ex-boyfriend's cheek in a resounding slap, the sound lost in the under the booming music that fills the club. The mysterious girl, who moments ago was dancing with him, stumbles back, her face etched with shock and disbelief. With your wounded pride, you retreat to the sanctuary of the bar. A final shot materializes before you, its amber contents beckoning with an illusory promise of numbness. You down the drink with the recklessness and no caution, the burn in your throat eclipsed by the feeling of your shattered heart.

You inform the bartender with a casual wave that the responsibility for the bill rests with the man you arrived with, an excuse that offers a semblance of dignity as you navigate your unsteady exit from the bar's confines. The city's nightlife swirls around you, a vivid blanket of neon lights and indistinct conversations. Perched on the curb outside the bar, you release a heavy, audible sigh that seems to resonate with the depth of your emotions. The exasperated "pfft" escapes your lips as you dismissively mutter, "What a waste." you recline, propping yourself up on your arms behind you, while your gaze ascends towards the night sky. It's as if you're summoning the attention of a god you don't even believe in, the stars and the moon bearing witness to your turmoil. Unbidden tears begin to well in your eyes, forming glistening pools that threaten to overflow. Yet, in a strange paradox, laughter bubbles up from within your heavy chest, as if mocking the absurdity of the situation. "He made a mistake… losing me? How stupid," you whisper to yourself, the words a bittersweet blend of self-affirmation and ironic amusement. Your tears, now fallen, trace glittering paths down your cheeks, their journey reflecting the city's glimmering lights. You cast your gaze downward, scrutinizing your ensemble—a striking red dress that billows around you, paired with towering, sleek black heels. In that moment of reflection, you realize that it was not you who was lost; it was him. Your attire serves as a poignant reminder that you are a treasure to be cherished, a realization that strengthens your resolve even as tears continue to fall.

Amid the quiet solace of your unspoken sorrows, the sudden roar of a motorcycle's powerful engine reverberates through the air, and your attention is instinctively drawn to the source. With a magnetic allure, the motorcycle glides to a stop not far from your lonesome, commanding your undivided focus. You study the machine as if decoding a riddle; its lustrous body gleams in pristine white, a stark contrast to the glinting silver rims of the wheels. The interior and seats, ensconced in shadowy allure, exude an air of enigmatic sophistication, cloaked in inky blackness. Seated astride this mechanical masterpiece is a man who embodies a paradox of rugged elegance. He possesses a commanding yet lean figure, an epitome of grace and strength that defies the bounds of convention. Draped in a formidable, protective black jacket, his attire is sending your brain into a frenzy. Fitting black jeans encase his legs, while black gloves envelope his hands with a subtle promise of concealed purpose. Each step echoing an aura of intrigue, he dons a pair of black Doc Marten boots, their resolute presence amplifying his enigmatic appeal. Atop the mysterious man’s figure sits a gloss-black helmet, its contours hinting at the mysteries that lie beneath.

With deliberate grace, he lifts the helmet from his head, revealing a crown of luxurious, dark purple locks. Your astonishment lingers in the air, and you can't help but be drawn to the allure of this captivating stranger. To call your fascination mere curiosity would be a gross understatement. Each of his features appears meticulously crafted, from his silver-clad ears adorned with earrings, to a proud and tall nose, and his eyes—those big beguiling orbs that seem to harbor a pool of secrets within. It's a visage that commands attention, the embodiment of an elusive charm that ignites your every sense. In a moment of serendipity, your eyes meet, the spark of connection bridging the gap between strangers. He saunters toward the store adjacent to the bar, a fleeting look of mischief dancing in his eyes. A playful wink and an enigmatic smile are cast in your direction, a wordless invitation that beckons with a magnetic pull. He dismounts from his motorcycle with an elegance that mirrors the grace of a dancer, setting the helmet upon the seat . As he disappears into the depths of the store, the intoxicating combination of your inebriation and the fragile state of your emotions conspire to form a whimsical yet irresistible decision. It's a gravitational force that leaves you with no choice but to step into the store and follow the purple-haired enigma, your heart beating in time with the uncharted journey that awaits.

As the convenience store door chimes melodically with your entry, a tingle of excitement courses through the air. The purple-haired enigma, the pull of destiny that brought you here, stands before you, a magnetic presence that seems to command every aisle. His striking figure exudes an aura that is both electrifying and tantalizing, and you can't help but gravitate toward him. With fluid grace, he reaches into the fridge to retrieve a drink, his movements a mesmerizing dance of confidence. You approach, and behind the cool, glass refrigerator door, your eyes lock in a seductive connection. He acknowledges your presence with a sultry smile that ignites the room. With an air of unshakable self-assuredness, you compliment his sleek motorcycle, your words laced with a smoldering charm. His response is a flirtatious grin, and as he rises to his full, towering height, he gazes down upon you, a titillating hint of promise in his eyes. "Thanks, ever been on a bike before, pretty girl?" he inquires, the huskiness of his voice sending electric shivers down your spine. Butterflies flutter wildly in your stomach as his words hang in the air. You return the provocative banter, testing the waters of this intriguing encounter. “Is this an invitation mr……?.”

“Heeseung. Lee Heeseung.” He introduces himself with a name that rolls off his tongue like a forbidden secret—Lee Heeseung. His playful response drips with allure, and you find yourself ensnared in the the moment. "And maybe it is an invitation… if you're willing to accept, Miss …..”? Your own name tastes sweeter than ever on your lips as you tease him with a hint of coyness, “Yn. Y/ln Yn. And why should I Lee?” Heeseung's perceptive eyes dart to the mascara-stained traces of tears on your face, his gaze tracing the invisible scars etched upon your soul. He tenderly points to your head, his words laden with a quiet understanding. "Judging by the mascara-stained tears on your face, I think a ride would fix whatever troubled that pretty little head of yours." A shy smile dances upon your lips, your heart pounding with a mixture of vulnerability and courage. "Got an extra helmet, then?" You say as acceptance to his offer. Heeseung's smirk deepens, his voice dripping with a seductive promise. "Good girl. Of course I do. You never know who needs a good ride." The air crackles with the electrifying energy of an adventure about to unfurl, as you and Lee Heeseung step into the thrilling unknown, united by the allure of the night.

In one hand, he clutches a tall, foreboding can of Monster energy drink, its vibrant, neon label a stark contrast to the other hand, which cradles a diminutive yellow box adorned with the endearing label "banana milk." The curious combination of his selections hints at the multifaceted personality of the man who has now become your enigmatic companion. With the transaction complete, the two of you emerge from the convenience store, and Heeseung extends a seemingly casual but unmistakably thoughtful gesture—offering you the little yellow box of banana milk. You accept it with a raised eyebrow, your curiosity piqued. "How'd you know I liked this, Lee?" you inquire, your voice touched by intrigue. A mischievous smile graces Heeseung's lips as he leans in a bit closer, and his response dances on the edges of flirtation, causing the butterflies in your stomach to stir with newfound hunger. "Pretty girls, like you, like banana milk," he teases, his words delivered with an artful charm that sends a shiver of excitement coursing through you. Grateful for his gesture, you return the enchanting smile, the air thick with an electrifying tension. As you both make your way toward the magnificent motorcycle that had initially captivated your attention, anticipation courses through your veins, setting your body aglow with excitement. You stand behind Heeseung, observing his every move with eager eyes. With practiced ease, he opens a concealed compartment at the back of the bike, revealing a second helmet that bears a striking silver star on either side. It's a unique touch that adds to the enigma of the man before you. Heeseung places your drinks within the compartment, where the second helmet once resided. With a smooth and assured motion, he secures the compartment and then offers you your designated helmet, a symbol of the adventure you're about to embark on together. As you accept the helmet from his hand, the magnetic connection between you deepens, and the night unfolds with the promise of thrilling secrets yet to be unveiled.

With the banana milk safely stowed and the helmet now snug upon your head, the night holds an air of mystery and excitement as you both approach the waiting motorcycle. Heeseung's slender frame moves with grace as he swings a leg over the sleek, white machine. He turns toward you, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sends an electric pulse through your veins. "Make sure you hold on, doll," he says, his voice dipped in a heady blend of charm and raw anticipation. His words are laced with a promise of thrilling adventure, and your heart skips a beat as you grasp the significance of this moment. You eagerly position yourself behind him, forgetting all about your ex boyfriend and the events that took place before. your arms wrapping around his lean waist, fingers instinctively clutching the fabric of his black jacket. The powerful engine roars to life beneath you, its growl a primal invitation to the night. Heeseung's gloved hands deftly manipulate the handlebars, and in an exhilarating surge of acceleration, you both glide out of the convenience store's parking lot and onto the main road. The world becomes a mesmerizing blur of vibrant colors and lights as the motorcycle snakes through the city's labyrinthine streets, framed by beautifully illuminated buildings that reach skyward, a testament to humanity's creativity. The cool night air rushes over you, and the city's pulsating energy envelopes you, offering an intoxicating taste of freedom and escape. As the wind whips through your hair, and the city's mesmerizing lights create a captivating painting, you can't help but feel that you've stepped into a dream. With every twist and turn, Heeseung's driving skill reveals itself, and you're reminded of the harmony between man and machine. In this exhilarating dance through the heart of the city, you're not just a passenger; you're a partner in a thrilling adventure, bound by the allure of the night and the enigmatic man who now shares it with you.

As the motorcycle effortlessly weaves through the city's enchanting streets, Heeseung's lean frame seems to meld with the machine, and you can sense his exhilaration in the subtle movements and graceful leans. Every curve and twist of the road is navigated with a fluidity that suggests an intimate understanding between rider and ride. The city's lights create a dazzling panorama around you, and you revel in the symphony of sensations that surrounds you. After what feels like an eternity of blissful exploration, the first hints of daylight begin to break on the horizon, casting a soft, golden glow upon the cityscape. It's a bittersweet reminder that this enchanting ride must eventually come to an end. With a quiet understanding, Heeseung steers the motorcycle to a stop in front of your home, and the engine's growl reluctantly gives way to the stillness of the early morning. As you dismount the bike, you can't help but feel a mixture of gratitude and a hint of longing for the adventure that has brought you closer. Heeseung turns toward you, his eyes holding a sparkle that mirrors the city's lights. "I hope you enjoyed the ride as much as I did, pretty girl,” he says, his voice a blend of sincerity and allure. "I did enjoy it, lee.” Your eyes lock onto his, and you can't resist a teasing smile. "I have to admit, I'm not sure if it was the city or the company that made it so enjoyable." He chuckles softly, his gaze lingering on you. "Perhaps it's a bit of both. I hope I made you forget what you were crying about earlier.”

With an air of anticipation, Heeseung closes the enchanting gap between you, his footsteps a playful dance that mirrors the rhythm of your heart. You find yourself drawn closer to him, a mix of curiosity and desire, hoping for a kiss that promises to be electric. But Heeseung, ever the tease, surprises you by gently capturing your hand in his gloved grasp. His lips brush against your knuckles, leaving behind a soft and lingering kiss that sends a thrill down your spine. A mischievous sparkle dances in his eyes as he takes a step back, though his hold on your hand remains. A mischievous smirk plays upon his lips as he takes a step back, and your hands, still intertwined, reluctantly part as the space between you expands. but the connection between your souls remains undeniably strong. Heeseung places your helmet back into the motorcycle's compartment, his every motion a graceful symphony of closure, yet the moment is still heavy with the sweet ache of parting. He retrieves the little yellow box of banana milk, and with a look that speaks of unspoken promises and possibilities, he adds to the enchanting ambiance. As you turn away to make your way inside, your heart swells with emotions, and it's then you hear his voice, soft and filled with affectionate playfulness, "Heads up, princess!" Your head snaps around, your eyes locking onto Heeseung seated on the motorcycle, revving the engine with a fervor that mirrors the passion between you. With a flourish, he tosses the banana milk to you, and you catch it . Your heart flutters like a love-struck bird, and you're left standing there, watching the back of his retreating figure with eyes filled with longing. As the cold morning air surrounds you, you're reminded of the warmth and excitement that has filled this magical night. With a heart full of happiness, you finally turn to head inside.

In the cozy sanctuary of your home, you close the door behind you with a gentle sigh, leaning against it as you bask in the afterglow of this night. The memories of what transpired outside are like a symphony of emotions playing in your heart, each note resonating with the tender and profound love that has blossomed between you and Heeseung. The room envelops you in its intimate embrace, illuminated by the soft, warm glow of the night. As you lean against the door, the walls seem to hold the echoes of the moments shared, and you're overcome by a sense of profound romance that fills the very air you breathe. The night was a love story written in the stars, a story of two souls drawn together by destiny and fueled by a love that's destined to endure. Despite breaking every single rule of stranger danger, you wish this night couldve lasted forever.

As you ascend the stairs to your room, a sense of contentment and longing accompanies you. The banana milk, a sweet reminder of an unforgettable night, finds its place on your bedside table, a silent guardian of your dreams. The room envelops you in its cozy warmth, the atmosphere carrying the residual fragrance of romance and adventure. In the dim light, you prepare for a soothing shower, letting the cascading water wash away the remnants of the night. Your thoughts, however, remain tethered to the enigmatic Lee Heeseung. Questions and desires swirl within your mind, like a gentle storm of emotions.

After the warmth of the shower, you don your pajamas from the night before, their familiarity a source of comfort as you slip between the soft sheets of your bed. Your body, tired but satiated, yearns for rest, yet your heart and mind remain restless, still inextricably tangled in the enchantment of the night. Thoughts of him, like whispers in the night, dance through your mind. "When will I see him again?" and "I wish we had exchanged information" echo in the chambers of your thoughts. Who is this mysterious man, Lee Heeseung, who has touched your heart so deeply? The unanswered questions propel you to flip open your phone, your curiosity overriding the myriad missed calls and texts from your unfaithful ex-boyfriend. Instagram becomes your portal to seek out the enigma named Lee Heeseung.

A sense of disappointment settles over you as your search on various social media platforms yields nothing. Lee Heeseung remains a ghost, elusive and untraceable in the digital realm. It's as if he exists only in the echoes of your memories, and the absence of any digital footprint only adds to his mystique. In your moment of quiet contemplation, a yearning for his presence intensifies. The desire to see him again, to unravel the enigma that is Lee Heeseung, becomes an undeniable ache within you. The thought that he knows where you live, and the lingering memories of your night together, offer a glimmer of hope that he might return. The idea that fate might bring you two together once more fills your heart with anticipation and longing. As you close your eyes and surrender to the night's embrace, you can't help but wonder when the stars will align, and the mysterious Lee Heeseung will reappear in your life.

As days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, the longing in your heart grew stronger. Spring had arrived, heralding the return of life and the vibrant colors of the world, yet it also marked the lingering absence of Heeseung, the man who had swept into your life as quickly as a shooting star and vanished just as abruptly. Every motorcycle that whizzed past you on the bustling streets of your city drew your attention like a magnet. A spark of curiosity ignited within you, and the questions were ceaseless. "Was that him? Does he still think of me?" These thoughts had woven themselves into the very fabric of your existence, haunting your every moment. The memories of that unforgettable night had become a bittersweet symphony that played on a loop in your mind.

Despite the love and support of your incredible friends, your loving family, and a fulfilling job, the void Heeseung had left in your life persisted. The allure of "what could've been" weighed heavy on your heart, like a melody left unfinished, a dance cut short, or a love story left untold. In the midst of your everyday life, the longing for the man named Lee Heeseung never waned. Your heart carried the echoes of his touch, the memory of his gaze, and the whispers of a love story that had never fully unfurled. With every passing day, your desire for his return only intensified, like a fire that refused to be extinguished.

It was a typical Tuesday, just like any other weekday, as you made your way into the bustling work building, greeted by the friendly faces of your coworkers who had also become your cherished friends. Jake, ever the playful one, couldn't resist bringing up the topic of your elusive Heeseung. "How are you, YN? Still no luck with this Heeseung guy?" he inquired with a mischievous glint in his eye. You let out a dramatic sigh, a playful air of exasperation in your response. "Unfortunately, no, Jake. Trust me, I would've told you if I had any news," you said with a chuckle. Jay, another dear friend of yours, joined the conversation, bringing with him a delightful surprise in the form of coffee for both you and Jake. With a comforting smile, he chimed in, "Don't worry, Ynnie, maybe he lives in a different town and was just there that night for you!" You couldn't help but offer an appreciative grin in response to Jay's attempt at comfort. His words were like a warm embrace, reassuring you in your quest for answers. Then, a new proposal surfaced, and it was Jay who initiated it. "Oh, by the way, Jake and I found out that there's been underground racing events in our city. We've been meaning to check it out. Wanna come with?" At first, you hesitated, but Jay's persuasive nature quickly took hold. "C'mon, YN!" Jake chimed in, adding his own brand of playfulness. "It'll be fun! Who knows, maybe you'll find Heeseung there! … or a different cute motorcycle guy at least." You let out a laugh that admitted defeat. "Okay, okay, I'll check it out with you guys. But if it's boring, you're buying me a burger." Jay quickly agreed to the wager. "Fine. Deal. But it won't be boring!" he declared with unwavering enthusiasm. "Mhm, we'll see," you replied with a sly grin, anticipating the playful adventures that lay ahead with your close friends, all while hoping that amidst the thrills of underground racing, you might find the one you longed for – or perhaps, something equally captivating.

As the workday drew to a close, you bid your colleagues and friends farewell, exchanging a series of cheerful goodbyes and promises to reconvene tomorrow. Last in line to receive your parting words were your friends, and it was Jake who left you with a playful reminder. "We'll pick you up at 10, ynnie~,” he declared with a mischievous glint in his eye. Your response was a melodious giggle as you affectionately ruffled his hair, a signal of your confirmation.

Once home, the weight of the day's responsibilities dissipated like a passing storm. Shoes were unceremoniously discarded, your bag and jacket flung haphazardly onto the floor, and with a contented sigh, you sank into the inviting embrace of your couch. Retrieving your phone, you embarked on a determined quest to research the underground racing scene, the glimmer of hope in your chest steadily growing brighter with every tap of your fingers.

The prospect of possibly encountering Heeseung again ignited a certain spark in your eyes, a fire of desire that refused to be extinguished. Yet, much like the elusive enigma of the man himself, your online investigation yielded no information about these races. It was as though the world had conspired to keep their existence hidden, a fitting scenario for events that were undoubtedly illegal. As you set your phone aside, your thoughts began to spiral in a torrent of what-ifs. What if Heeseung is there, but his interest had always been elsewhere? What if he's not present? What if he doesn't even notice you? These unceasing questions threatened to consume your mind, and you shook your head, as if such an act could dispel these relentless thoughts. Determined to quell the storm of uncertainties that raged within you, you took a deep breath and resolved to face the night with unwavering optimism.

With the plan in place, you had agreed that the guys would hang out at your place before the big race. Jake and Jay, after their workday, rushed home, got dressed for the evening, and then made their way to your doorstep around 7:30. You swung open the door in your comfy pajamas, greeting the duo with warm hugs and bright smiles. "Alright, guys," you chimed in, "I'm going to get ready now. You said we're leaving at 10, right?" They both confirmed your question with a nod, and you headed upstairs to prepare for the night ahead. As you left the living room, the two friends made themselves at home, lounging comfortably on your couch and taking charge of the TV. The anticipation for the evening ahead filled the air, and the sense of camaraderie between the three of you was a reassuring presence, setting the tone for the exciting adventure that lay just around the corner.

Upstairs in your room, you embarked on the grand battle that is getting ready for a night out. The soft glow of your vanity mirror cast a warm light on your determined face as you transformed your appearance for the evening. Your makeup was an elegant fusion of dark and bold, with a smoky eyeliner that accentuated your eyes and a luscious dark red lip gloss that heightened the allure of your lips. The result was a striking look that suited your features beautifully. You took a few moments to curl the ends of your hair, creating soft, cascading waves that reached down to your lower back. These curls were swept up into a high, sleek ponytail, with two delicate strands left loose to elegantly frame your face. Your outfit had been meticulously selected, not only with Heeseung in mind but also with the exciting prospect of possibly meeting someone new at this enigmatic race. Dark red leather pants, designed to hug your curves in all the right ways, were paired with a lace black tank top, adding a touch of sensuality to your ensemble. To complete the look, you adorned yourself with a black and white leather jacket that draped over your shoulders like whipped cream on a tantalizing sundae. In your full-length mirror, you admired the reflection of a confident and captivating woman, well aware of her own allure. A pair of sleek black boots adorned your feet, and you accessorized with a silver necklace featuring a delicate pendant and matching earrings, adding a touch of sophistication to your ensemble. To crown your transformation, you picked up your favorite perfume bottle, and with each spritz, a beautiful aroma enveloped you like a fragrant embrace. The battle of getting ready was won, and you felt like a queen in your own right. With a final glance in the mirror, you knew you looked stunning and were ready to face whatever the night had in store. With your purse in hand, you headed downstairs, prepared to join your friends who were patiently waiting for you.

"DAMN YN!" Jay and Jake exclaimed in unison as you descended the stairs, the sight of your stunning transformation leaving them momentarily breathless. A beaming smile graced your lips as their admiration washed over you. "Thank you, boys," you replied with a gracious nod, giving them a playful twirl to showcase your meticulously chosen outfit. "Do I look good?" you asked, a hint of playful teasing in your voice. "You know you do," Jay responded with a smile, but he was eager to get going. "Now, let's get moving! It's nearly 10:15." You waved off his concern with a nonchalant chuckle. "Oh, please, there's no way these things start right on time. We're fine. Now, let's make a quick stop at the convenience store so I can get a banana milk, pretty please~" you added with a hint of irresistible charm. The two boys, who had been lounging on the couch, rose from their seats with mock exasperation. Jake couldn't help but mutter a resigned, "Yes, ma'am…" as you playfully led the way, heading into the car where you sat in the backseat.

With a refreshing banana milk tucked safely in your purse, courtesy of Jake's wallet, the three of you arrived at the underground racing event. The venue was located beneath a highway bridge in an area you never even knew existed. you were struck by the sheer scale of the place, surrounded by towering structures that seemed to stretch to the heavens. This perspective, seeing the world from a unique angle, made you feel small in the grand scheme of things, a humbling realization that added to the aura of the night. Lost in your contemplation, you were momentarily unaware that Jay and Jake had already exited the car, with Jake gallantly holding the door open for you. He playfully addressed you, "Here we are, princess," and you responded with a light, affectionate hit on his arm, chuckling, "Oh, cut it out, Jaeyun." A playful exchange of names ensued between the two friends as you headed toward the gathering crowd at the starting line, eagerly awaiting the start of the race. You surveyed the bikers as they lined up in their positions, and your attention was drawn to a particular rider who was surrounded by a group of enthusiastic women. The throng of admirers made it difficult to see his face clearly, but you couldn't help but wonder if it might be Heeseung.

The announcer's voice crackled over the radio, calling on the racers to mount their bikes and prepare for the thrilling competition. Jay and Jake signaled that it was time to find your seats, with Jake instinctively taking your hand to guide you and ensure you didn't get lost in the bustling crowd. As you were led to the front row, you couldn't help but scan the racers one last time. The colorful array of bikes and their determined riders filled the scene with an air of excitement. But then, at the far end, you spotted a white bike, and your heart skipped a beat. Could it be Heeseung's bike? The memories of him came rushing back, and you pointed it out to your friends. "Wait, guys, that might be Heeseung's bike," you mentioned, your voice tinged with both hope and anxiety. Jake and Jay exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of curiosity and concern. "You think so, YN?" Jay asked, offering a glimmer of doubt. "Maybe it's just a guy with the same motorcycle color as Heeseung, Ynnie. I mean, white bikes aren't that uncommon, right?" Jake reasoned, trying to provide a rational explanation. You shook your head, a familiar gesture you used to clear your thoughts. "Yeah, Jakey, you're probably right. I mean, I haven't seen him in months. It can't be him," you replied, trying to convince yourself as much as your friends. You felt a surge of anxiety but decided to push those thoughts aside and focus on enjoying the race. With the comforting presence of your banana milk, you took a sip and leaned back, hoping that this night would be an adventure to remember, regardless of the outcome.

As the man on the radio commenced announcing the racers' names, an air of anticipation enveloped the crowd. With each name called out, a symphony of revving engines filled the air, punctuated by cheers and applause from the spectators. The excitement was palpable, and you joined in, clapping and cheering for each racer. However, as the announcer neared the end of the line of racers and you waited with bated breath, you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. The name you had been hoping to hear, "LEE HEESEUNG," didn't make an appearance. Instead, the announcer declared, "And last but not least, our reigning champion, ACE!" A sigh of regret escaped your lips, revealing your unspoken hope. You observed that the crowd cheered enthusiastically for this "Ace" character, understanding why he had garnered a legion of female admirers. The sense of anticipation still coursed through your veins, but you decided to put aside your initial disappointment and immerse yourself in the exhilarating atmosphere of the race, hopeful that the night would hold some surprises, even if Heeseung's name was absent from the list of competitors.

Snapping you out of your thoughts, Jake directed a question to both you and Jay, inquiring, "Who are you guys rooting for?" Jay was quick to respond, his eyes bright with enthusiasm. "I'm rooting for the guy named Jungwon on that bright blue bike. He seems like an underdog, you know?" Jake couldn't resist poking fun at Jay's choice. "So cheesy," he remarked, provoking Jay to playfully flip him off. Turning to you, Jake's curiosity was evident in his expression as he asked, "What about you, YN?" You pondered for a moment, a mischievous glint in your eye as you gave your answer. "Hmm, maybe that Sunghoon guy, on the black bike. He seems hot," you added, punctuating your response with a giggle. Jay shook his head in mock exasperation, but he couldn't hide a smile. "I'm not even surprised." As the three of you continued to chat and enjoy the electric atmosphere, the announcer's voice broke through, "RACERS, START YOUR ENGINES!" The crowd erupted into cheers, blending with the powerful roar of the motorcycles.

"READY…SET��GO!" The announcer's command was met with a symphony of revving engines, and in an instant, the racers sped off on the manmade track, weaving between the imposing pillars of the bridge above. The sound of the engines and the fervent cheers from the crowd captivated you, and your gaze remained fixed on the racers as they disappeared into the distance, the race now in full swing.

The race unfolded with an intoxicating blend of speed, skill, and sheer adrenaline. The racers zipped around the tight corners and weaved through the narrow gaps between the bridge's pillars, their powerful machines roaring like wild beasts. The air was filled with the intoxicating scent of gasoline and burnt rubber, adding to the sensory overload that engulfed the crowd. The race was paired with commentary by the announcer, “In the lead is ace! Are we surprised? That white bike is a godsend!”

As the racers maneuvered with lightning precision, the crowd couldn't help but be entranced by the sheer spectacle before them. Spectators cheered as their chosen favorites powered through the track, and collective gasps echoed through the audience whenever a close call or a daring move occurred. The atmosphere was electric, charged with the shared excitement of everyone in attendance. Another comment was made by the announcer, “Woah! Look at jungwon pulling through and passing ace on his left! Will this be the first race he wins?”

“I told you guys. Always root for the underdog,” Jay chimes, but your eyes are glued to sunghoon and his black bike.

Amidst the collective fervor, you found yourself mesmerized, your eyes locked onto the racers as they sped past. The world outside the race ceased to exist for those moments, and you were drawn into the raw energy of the event, feeling the vibrations of the engines in your chest and the rush of the wind in your hair. “Here come’s sunghoon! Passing jungwon on his right, and making his way towards the finish line!” Says the announcer.

The announcer's voice crackled through the speakers, adding to the electrifying atmosphere. "WOAH, WOAH!! HERE COMES ACE RIGHT BEHIND SUNGHOON! WHO WILL WIN? THE TWO ARE SIDE BY SIDE, WILL IT BE A TIE? THE FINISH LINE IS RIGHT THERE, AND… ALMOST A PHOTO FINISH! BUT THE WINNER OF THE RACE IS SUNGHOON!"

As the crowd erupted in joyous celebration, the cheers of the spectators seemed to reverberate in perfect harmony with the racing engines. You were swept up in the excitement, joining the chorus of voices, and even rising to your feet as you cheered for Sunghoon, the victor of the race. The thrill of witnessing such a close contest was invigorating, and you couldn't help but be caught up in the jubilation around you. With a playful tone and a hint of what-ifs, you turned to your two friends and exclaimed, "Damn, we should've bet on it. Missed opportunity!" The boys laughed along with you, the infectious joy of the moment drawing them into the celebration. Together, you stood and cheered for Sunghoon, basking in the shared experience of witnessing an extraordinary race and its exhilarating conclusion.

The exhilarating atmosphere of the race drew you, Jay, and Jake, along with the rest of the crowd, to approach the racers as they dismounted their bikes. The audience showered the racers with an array of cheers and encouraging words, from "good job!" to "you'll win next time!" to admiring comments about their impressive machines. As you and your friends navigated your way through the dispersing crowd, you found yourselves face to face with Jungwon, the racer who had been your friend Jay's underdog favorite. Eager to express your admiration, you initiated the conversation, addressing him with warmth, "Hey, Jungwon, right? You were so cool! I thought you were gonna win for a second there!" Jungwon's face lit up with gratitude, and he replied with a sincere smile, "Thank you so much! I thought so too, but I had nooo chance against Ace and Sunghoon." Jay, ever the enthusiast, extended a firm handshake in that classic man-to-man fashion. "Bro! I was rooting for you from the start. You'll see me at the next race," he proclaimed with enthusiasm, earning a "thank you" from Jungwon. With that, the three of you moved on to the next racer, Sunghoon, eager to share your appreciation with the winner.

Sunghoon leaned casually on his sleek black bike, a striking figure with an air of confidence that immediately caught your attention. Up close, you couldn't deny how incredibly handsome he looked, and you were taken aback by his allure. Summoning your courage, you approached the winner, introducing yourself in a soft, friendly tone, "Hi Sunghoon, I'm YN. Congrats on the win, handsome." The compliment had its intended effect, and Sunghoon's eyes focused on you. "Well, hello, Miss YN. Nice to meet you," Sunghoon responded with a smirk, revealing a sharp canine tooth and a dimple that sent a shiver down your spine. You felt yourself blushing in response to his charm. Sunghoon's flirtatious banter continued as he inquired, "You were rooting for me, pretty girl?" He leaned in a little closer, his voice dripping with playful seduction. You met his flirtatious challenge with a sly smile. "Maybe… maybe not," you replied, adding a teasing playfulness to your tone. He feigned disappointment, a twinkle in his eye as he teased, "What a shame, I was gonna offer you a ride." Playing along, you flirtatiously touched his arm, your confidence growing with every word. "Oh, come on, Hoonie, of course I was rooting for you," you confessed with a playful eye roll, a mischievous gleam in your eyes. Sunghoon rewarded your playful admission by tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, and for that moment, the world seemed to narrow down to the two of you, engaged in a playful dance of flirtation amidst the post-race excitement. The nickname you garnered for him was definitely working in your favor.

You were so deeply engrossed in your conversation with Sunghoon that you remained oblivious to the intense gaze fixed upon you from the second-place racer, Ace. He watched you with something akin to jealousy, uncertain whether he should approach. Leaving you and Sunghoon in your own world, Jay and Jake made their way over to Ace to offer their congratulations. Jake, always one for humor, attempted to lighten the mood with a lighthearted comment. "Hey, man! You were so cool out there. Second place is still good. Don't be discouraged. I'm sure all these girls still want you," he quipped, though he hadn't realized that Ace's attention was on him. Ace's initial jealousy quickly transformed into a friendly demeanor as he responded, "Yo, thanks for that, haha. Almost won, but I'll win the next one for sure." Jay chimed in with an encouraging pat on Ace's shoulder before the two of them began to walk away. However, Ace couldn’t keep it to himself. He called out to Jay and Jake, nodding in your direction while still engaged in conversation with Sunghoon. "Hey, do you know that girl?" he inquired, his interest piqued. Jay answered without hesitation, a friendly tone in his voice as he looked back toward Ace. "Yeah, that’s yn! We're friends. She came here with us," he explained, his focus now shifting as he moved away from the racer, joining Jake in heading back in your direction, leaving Ace with his thoughts as you continued your conversation with Sunghoon.

As the evening wound down and Jay and Jake were ready to head home, you and Sunghoon decided to exchange numbers, creating a playful connection. Sunghoon, with a charming wink, remarked, "Call me when you wanna ride, beautiful." Your response was just as flirty, "I'll call you when I want to, Hoonie," and you playfully blew him a kiss. As you began to walk away, ready to rejoin your friends in the car, Sunghoon made his way over to Ace, eager to share his little victory. "Bro, I just got the hottest girl's number, and—" Sunghoon began, but before he could finish, Ace roared away on his bike, his jealousy simmering beneath the surface. With your two friends already in the car, you confidently made your way toward them, your spirits high. For that moment, Heeseung had slipped from your thoughts, and the excitement of connecting with Sunghoon filled your mind. However, just as you were about ten feet away from Jay's car, a white motorcycle suddenly cut in front of you, blocking your path to your friends. Startled, you took a step back, your heart racing, and realized that the rider was one of the racers. You cautiously addressed him, "Oh, Jesus Christ, you scared me. Ace, right?" His helmet obscured his face as he nodded, and he proceeded to take it off, revealing his identity.

Your heart sank as the white helmet came off, revealing the vibrant purple hair that had grown longer since you last saw him. The shock washed over you like a tidal wave, and your eyes scanned his familiar face, unable to believe that he was standing there before you, just as he had been months ago. His eyes, large and twinkling, bore into yours, the same way they had done when you first met. "H-Heeseung?" was all you could manage to stammer. The excitement you had felt only moments ago had evaporated, replaced by a rush of tears welling up in your eyes. Every emotion you had held back for months now poured out, glistening like rivers of glittering light. The overwhelming flood of feelings left you lost and unsure of how to proceed. Heeseung spoke, his voice breaking the silence, "Yn, I missed you pretty girl.” But you couldn't handle it. The anger and sadness mixed inside you, driving you to act on impulse. "I can't do this right now, Heeseung. I-I gotta go," you uttered, your voice quivering with raw emotion. You turned and ran towards Jay's car, where the two boys had witnessed the entire interaction. Climbing into the vehicle, you were met with a barrage of concerning questions from your friends. "I'll answer once you start driving. Please. Please start driving," you implored. Jay promptly obeyed your request and sped out of the lot, the car now on the road, the boys eager to ask their questions.

Jake spoke up first, his voice tinged with disbelief, "Yn, who was that?" "Heeseung…" you replied, your voice quivering. "Oh my god, what?!" Jake exclaimed. "Heeseung? Like in, Heeseung Heeseung?" Jay asked, his surprise mirroring Jake's. "Yes, Jay. Heeseung Heeseung. Oh my god, what was he doing there?" you lamented, your words spilling out in a mixture of confusion and emotion. "Wait, isn't this what you wanted, Yn? Why are you so upset?" Jake inquired, trying to make sense of your reaction. You paused, a heavy sigh escaping your lips before you responded, "…because… where has he been? I've spent months, nearly half a year wondering when he'd show up—waiting for him like some lost puppy. And now all of a sudden, I see him today, surrounded by a crowd of girls, only talking to me because I was hitting it off with Sunghoon? I just… I just don't know what's going on. And just now, he says he missed me? Bullshit. Absolute bullshit. He knows where I live; if he missed me so much, he would've visited. I waited months, guys. MONTHS. I just… I'm so—" Jay cut off your rambling rant, his voice filled with understanding and empathy. "Yn, my love, it's okay. Let's get you that burger." In your teary, emotional state, you couldn't help but let out a faint laugh, appreciating Jay's attempt to lighten the mood. Jake reached his hand to the backseat to comfort you, and you clung to it as he gently rubbed circles into your hand. As you sat there, feeling a whirlwind of emotions and confusion, you were grateful that your friends were by your side, offering their support and understanding in your time of need.

With the comforting presence of your friends and the burger in your stomach, you finally arrived home. Jay and Jake had offered to spend the night with you, but you assured them that you appreciated their support but wanted some time alone with your thoughts. Feeling too drained to remove your makeup and outfit, you flopped onto your couch, face-first, and screamed into a throw pillow. The weight of the day and the unexpected encounter with Heeseung left your mind in a tumultuous state. As you lay there, lost in your thoughts, exhaustion overcame you, and you drifted into an uneasy slumber. Some odd hours later, you were startled awake by a persistent knocking on your door. At first, you attempted to ignore it, hoping the person would go away, but the knocking persisted. Reluctantly, you dragged yourself up and went to inspect the door through the peephole. What you saw on the other side took your breath away: a head of purple hair, Heeseung, standing at your doorstep.

Anger surged through your body as you swung the door open, and a torrent of questions spilled from your lips, "What do you want? Why are you here? Why did it take you so long to see me?" The frustration that had been simmering inside you for months finally found its voice, and it was directed squarely at the person who could provide answers. Heeseung began to speak, attempting to explain himself, but you couldn't bear to let him finish. The words tumbled out of you, fueled by the emotions that had been building up over time. "No, Heeseung. Do you know how long I've been waiting for you? How much I wished every motorcycle that passed me on the street was you? I've been so…" The emotional dam broke, and tears cascaded down your cheeks as your voice quivered with pent-up pain and frustration. Heeseung, rather than offering words, brought you into a gentle embrace, his strong arms wrapping around you, and his hand softly patting your head. His voice was a soothing whisper in your ear, "Shh, shh… I'm here now, pretty girl. I'm here. I'm sorry." His comforting presence and reassuring touch allowed you to release your bottled-up emotions. You allowed yourself to cry in his arms, feeling a mixture of anger, relief, and longing all at once. Despite your anger at him in this moment, you couldn't deny that his embrace was warm and welcoming, and it offered a sense of solace that you hadn't realized you had been yearning for.

You and heeseung were now sitting on the couch, cuddling in the darkness of your living room. You decide to break the silence, “Can we talk now, hee?” He begins to play with your hair, offering you a quiet hum in response. “Where have you been? Why haven’t you visited me?” You ask the questions that plagued your mind the most. "Yn, I'm truly sorry for disappearing like that. I had my reasons, but I understand how much it hurt you. I needed some time to sort things out in my life. It's not an excuse, but I want you to know that I've missed you every day, and I regret not being there for you. I'm here now, and I want to make it right, if you'll have me" he answers. “How do I know you’re telling the truth, heeseung? I mean, the first time I saw you today, you were surrounded by all these girls, and how do I know you won’t leave again?” You ask. "I understand your doubts, baby, and I don't blame you for being cautious. The girls today were just fans, and I was trying to keep a low profile. I promise you, I won't disappear again. I want to make it up to you and prove that I'm committed to being in your life. Actions speak louder than words, and I'm willing to show you through my actions that you can trust me." You let out a quiet sigh, “I want to trust you heeseung, I really do. But Im so scared of getting hurt again. Why did you decide to help me out that one day? The day we met? Do you do that to other girls? "I completely understand your fear, Yn. I helped you that day because you seemed like someone genuinely in need, and I felt a connection with you from the start. I don't do that for other girls; our meeting was special and unique. I can't promise you won't ever get hurt, but I can promise that I'll do my best to be there for you and be honest with you. I want to make things right between us. Seriously, my pretty girl” heeseung claims, shifting his body so you guys are face to face now.

As Yn looked into Heeseung's eyes, she saw a sincerity she hadn't seen in a long time. Her heart was still cautious, but the warmth of his embrace had melted some of the ice around it. "Let's take it one step at a time, my “love Heeseung said gently. "I won't rush you, and I'll do my best to earn your trust. We can figure this out together, princess.” Yn nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She was unsure of what the future held, but for the first time in months, she felt a glimmer of hope. As the night continued, they talked, laughed, and shared stories. Yn realized that Heeseung had changed, and maybe she had too. They both had scars, but perhaps together, they could heal. The story of Yn and Heeseung wasn't over; it was just beginning. And for the first time in a long time, they both felt like they were exactly where they were supposed to be.

“Lee Heeseung, if you disappear on me again, I swear to god. Don’t forget I still have sunghoon’s number!” You playfully hit Heeseung. “Okay, okay! Message received ma’am! Now I have a question.” You respond with a hum. “Now who was that boy holding your hand earlier? At the race? Hm?” You laugh and respond teasingly, “Baby, that’s Jake. You really don’t have to worry about him. He’s like my little puppy!”

“My love, you do realize how wrong that sounds?” Heeseung laughs.

#enhypen #enhypen angst #enhypen imagines #enhypen reactions #enhypen x reader #enhypen x y/n #enhypen ff #enhypen niki #park sunghoon #enhypen jake #heeseung x reader #heeseung #heeseung imagine #enhypennetwork #ficscafe #enhypen jay

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nouvxllev · 9 months ago

Note

Hi loved your recent Jenna fic

I have a request where reader confesses their feelings to Jenna after a long friendship (you can figure out how long and that friendship if you want) and Jenna doesn’t really react and unfortunately something or someone interrupts them that forces them to push that topic aside or something then Jenna like shuts down because she goes over reader’s confession over and over because how did she not see it that what she felt towards reader was exactly the same thing which leads her to think over having a relationship with reader and how it’ll work or how it won’t work I’m rambling at this point so you can just take over from here if you want

Just something along those lines idk if that made sense you can ignore this if it doesn’t ha😅

so this is love?

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x Gn!Reader

Summary: request!! ^^

Words: 4.7k (damn i expected it was gonna be more than 5k)

Warnings: a long fucking love confession!!! you'd think to yourself how did they even say that in one breath, jenna being the oblivious little shit, r and j.o is horrendously inlove w eachother its fuckng insane, kind of bittersweet kind of just sweet, several 7 husbands of evelyn hugo references, im yapping too much about love here

a/n: first of all, thank you so so much!! and hope you'll like this one anon, thank you for the idea!

masterlist.

"Y/n, I'm thinking about changing this scene. Just a slight bit, nothing too over the top. What'd you think?"

"Yeah? Oh, yeah. Definitely."

"But it's such a late change—fuck, I should've told Tim a little earlier. You think he's gonna get frustrated? Then again, he's a sweet guy, I don't think he will."

"Jenna. Jenna, I like you. So fucking much. It's spontaneous, a little on the weird side that I'm telling you this now in your Wednesday Addams get up with a script on your hands asking me if your idea is good or not, even if it is—everything you do is amazing—but I'm in love with you for little over a year now and it's tearing me apart so please just reject me so I can move on."

"Yeah, yeah I like the idea too but—what?"

"I like you. Jenna."

. . .

Here's the thing:

You give a poet paper, they will embellish it with their words. People will mourn over their unfortunately late mortal soul enclosed with a tomb that carries their quill and ink.

You give a painter a blank canvas with nothing but their own mind, they will create a sensation, a masterpiece, a tour de force. People will gaze upon it in awe, so valuable they will waste a fortune.

You give a musician a silent room, an auditorium with nothing but a few instruments and tarnished worksheets. They will make out of it, they will fill the room with melodies that no one would hear, yet the very vibrations would resonate with the walls.

But if someone gives out their heart to you, they will pour it all over you. They will reprogram their own organ so that it beats solely for you. They will rip it out of their chest in bleeding agony and give it to you with no price more than their own faith.

You are given no options other than cherish it, treasure it, be thankful someone admires you as such they will do anything and everything for a piece of your attention, maybe even reciprocation.

You are also given the option to trample on it, break it, shatter it into minuscule pieces that have no intention in restoring to it's formal use. Let it be nothing but a bullet to their own decision, to their own emotion, to their own choice to love you.

Jenna was given those options. None other from her friend since the day she became an actress at a young age, a childhood friend even. What now?

. . .

"...What?"

The brunette responded, murmured even, like she was out of breath. The corner of her lips forced themselves to tug into an awkward smile.

What else are you going to respond with if you're stuck in a situation where your friend of a decade, nearly how long Jenna has been in this fucking industry, tells you that they're in love with you?

You shook your head, noticing how Jenna's gaze flicker to your fidgeting hands. "I like you, Jenna. Like, like you. I love you—no, that's crossing the line. But I just... like you, Jenna. Don't you get it?"

Jenna blinked. So much for being in character. She scoffed, albeit playful, running her fingers through Wednesday's fringe, "Yeah. I like you too. We are friends. Best of friends."

You shook your head once more, slowly taking a step forward towards Jenna like you were cautious. "No, Jenna, I—" you sighed, "I like you. Romantically. Like I'm willing to be in a relationship with you like way."

Oh.

Jenna swallowed the ever growing lump in her throat, feeling her eyebrows crease yet a smile was still present on her face. Her lips parted, threatening to say anything that just comes to her mind at this point. "You… you're serious?" Her voice wavered.

"Very. Dead serious." You nodded, gulping in your own words like you were trying to swallow them whole.

"I don't want our friendship to die out because of this, I wished I should've stopped my mouth from rambling all this to you so spontaneously but I—I should've done it more romantically than this setting. I've been in love with you my whole life, I've loved you for as long as I can remember even if I lose my memories. I'm not a romantic soul, I'm more far from it, and I'll never find the words even if I'm given a lifetime to describe how much I love you. I'm… I'm not saying all of this so you could reciprocate what I feel, it's just that I'll be lying to myself everytime I breath if I don't tell you this. You're my colleague, my co-star, my friend, my childhood, my everything ever since we met on that set of that god-awful ad that I cannot for the life of me watch again. I noticed that I talk to you almost everyday, how I adapted to your weird fucking horror movies that I absolutely somehow love, how I—I bought a stupid vinyl because you liked the artist, how I started listening to your music taste, how I started writing poems, how you always manage to sneak up in my conversations with others. You don't have to even be there, and yet, you linger in my words. I would surrender everything I worked for just for you, I would do anything, sacrifice my time and all. You've been all of those and more, and it's shocking that I'm only saying this now, after five years of loving you, half of the time we've known each other."

Jenna was silent, her lips parting as if to speak, but her mind held her back. But her heart did everything to speak, yet it never came.

She was lost, unsure, afraid. She didn't understand, and she fears that you know she doesn't. She never will unless time so happens to be on her side. Breathing was the only option, and breathing out was her only relief that she was alive.

She looked at you, and you looked at her back. No words exchanged. Your hands are now fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, pulling the loose strings apart as you catch your breath.

Jenna could grab your hand, apologize, and reject you. She could throw everything you both had built and walk away, leaving you behind to pick up the pieces of your shattered heart.

Maybe that both of you will go to separate paths after filming was over. Maybe you'd tear away the contract that stated that in all your shows, Jenna should be there.

But the thought pained her.

It's painful, it's torture, it's agony, it's suffering to live in that universe where you weren't the one Jenna calls when it's a rainy day. The universe where Jenna stays awake, mellowing in her own woe, not knowing who to turn to, who to call at the dead of night. The universe where every poem on her phone, on her paper, on her notes, on every surface she had the ability to write on, wasn't meant for you.

Do you refer to that as love?

"Y/n, I... I just need some—"

"Y/n! There you are."

Shit.

Tim cut Jenna off, approaching the both of them, but more primarily you.

"Y/n, makeup team, and Jenna, your scene."

It all took Tim nothing but to speak seven words for the both of them to pry their eyes off eachother and remind themselves it was a professional setting. With professional actors and professional feelings. Nothing personal, is what Tim would say.

Jenna was an actor. You were an actor, her co-star.

That just so happens to be in love with her.

You nodded as you looked right at Tim, your gaze leaving Jenna for the first time.

Jenna was desperate to hold your hand, take a firm grip of your wrist and to tell you to 'stay' or 'don't go' like what they do at cheesy romance movies where the guy gets the girl.

But it wasn't. Jenna would've loved you if it were a movie.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The question still arises on set. Dressed up as Wednesday, cameras rolling, her mind wandering nowhere near the scene but your trailer.

What do you do when a friend confesses their love to you?

A friend who's been a familiar presence in Jenna's life, a friend who's been there since Jenna learned her heart yearned for others, how it beats for other people.

Someone through every moment of self-doubt, they saved her when she couldn't save herself. Through struggles that Jenna considered could be something to gash her mending heart, but they would offer a piece of theres in exchange for happiness in her.

A friend she loves.

It's a simple. You fold your heart in half, maybe even in fourths, then tuck it away in the deepest depths of your pocket. You might stamp it, decorate it, perhaps even address it to none other than your soulmate.

What do you do if you don’t know your soulmate?

You look for them. Jenna never looked for love outside of her family or friends; her heart was content with the familiar comfort of their love. Those were the types of love she knew. She had never felt the need to pursue romance.

Probably because everyone sees some others as they want them to be in their own head. They fall in love with the idea of them, the person they want them to be. An idealized version only they see fit to their desires, a false projection.

Most people would call her beautiful or pretty. She would pass the street and people would look at her, stare at her, look at her up and down, maybe even subtly lick their lips. They look up at her like she’s a force they cannot compete with, like she wasn’t human. Not amongst them. They will compliment her base on her appearance, and in rare cases, on how talented she is.

But someone would call her glorious, like Greece, and grandeur like Rome. Someone would call her lovely, not in a way everyone calls her, but someone would look up at her with eyes that feel like they’re borrowing, harnessing even, the energy of a thousand suns to even look at her. Like she was a garden. But yet, they would also look at her like she was an old friend. An old soul, the soul that could melt yours but still be so comforting.

And it was you.

Most people would look at her and smile. Say hi, wave a greeting, a handshake if it was really needed.

But you look at her as if you were seeing something more, as if Jenna had never seen a person more in awe that you when you look at her. Like how the sun would be nothing without her, how you'll spend your whole life loving her and nothing more, how you look at her and she feels though as if she has never been admired in her whole life. If she was someone intolerable, someone unbearable, suffering to a degree you'd rather die, and you would. But only if it were in her arms.

Most people would describe her as someone talented, art, hot, stunning, sexy. Like she was nothing but a piece of imagination to someone, like her good traits were the only characteristics that made her Jenna Ortega.

But you would turn all of those down. You would say, no, in the face of the interviewer. You would say that she was the renaissance reincarnated as a single human, that was beauty in everything imperfect, she was the art that would put the Sistine Chapel to shame, the sculpture that would have Michelangelo resurrecting from the dead only to lie back of how undoubtedly perfect and impossible to replicate the pure astonishing beauty that was her.

You were an old friend of Jenna, the two of you were ever since Jenna played young Jane in Jane the virgin at twelve years old and you had approached her as an extra to be her somewhat, co-star-in-the-future-friend.

And now, she's only imagining what would've happened if you hadn't been the big ball of sunshine that you always were up until now.

There were times that you would make her laugh, putting up a half-assed comedy show whenever she's in a bad mood, but then you'll give her space if she doesn't budge. Times where you would hold her close in your arms whenever she's on the verge of tears, and times where you hold her close to you whenever she achieved something.

There were times she wasn't proud of herself, how self-doubt creeped into her mind and slowly started to deteriorate her soul, yet you were there. You called her brilliant, a genius, someone show-stopping people from all around the world would be shocked how amazing she was and a few other words that she kept close to her heart.

There were times where Jenna calls you, telling you how filming was all too stressful and she needs a break. Then you're with her the next day, surprisingly becoming an extra or maybe a new side character to her films.

You were always saying how you would protect her at the age of twelve, and she'd always respond with "how?" with a laugh, then you'd respond with a simple shrug saying, "I'd love you."

Jenna didn't understand it at first and yet you understood her in such a short amount of time. How you knew why she always has her headphones on, how you wrote down and knew at the top of a hat what she likes and what she hates, how your laugh sounded at her most darkest of jokes, how you would bring back snacks whenever you're on a run, how you would always say 'i love you' in times where she's breaking down.

And up until now, she never understood why you would protect her with your love.

Jenna was your friend but you treated her like she was your everything.

And up until now, she realized that she loved you back.

And up until now, she realized how could she even dare to live without giving you the same love as you did to her?

People tell you that relationships are easy, that they're lovely, that they tell you that love is the only thing that keeps the both of them going.

But they don't tell you the rest.

They don't tell the pain you want to go through all for your significant other. The nights you want them to be in your arms but you've gone through yet another foolish argument that created a hole in your heart that seem to never mend, but it will.

It made sense that Jenna never wanted to be in a relationship, it was scary. The answer to a question as such was always going to be no. How there was always someone going to be hurt or inflict hurt.

But it never made sense that Jenna would experience pain with no presence of mercy to be with you.

Everyone talks about falling out of love, but that's bullshit. If you fall out of love, then there must be a reason you should've never fell from them in the first place. It's something Jenna never understood why falling out of love was never a thing if love prospered and it was for all eternity.

But the thought of being in a relationship with you, and having to watch you fall out of love with her is terrifying.

The two of you would work because the both of you are long friends, childhood friends. Yet, it won't. Because the two of you were friends. What would happen if Jenna let you in the most deepest parts of her heart? What would happen if you did? Would you get turned off? Would she get turned off? She wouldn't. You wouldn't

If no one had stopped Jenna in the midst of her performance as Wednesday, she wouldn't notice she was messing up her lines. She wouldn't have noticed that she was crying.

But she did notice that one familiar scent you always carried around you; that one perfume mixed with the shampoo you used everyday. Jenna was around you her whole life and she never got tired of it. It could be the smell of her home, like that one familiar scent at your childhood home.

It wasn't long before she felt a pair of two hands grabbing her shoulders, tugging her gently, and it wasn't long before she felt herself walking with them.

The voices were drowned out, muffled, she can hear someone saying to "let her take a break until she's feeling better. Emma, your scene."

"Jenna?"

"Jenna, please, talk to me, why are you crying?"

"Shit—Jenna? Jenna, it's alright, I'm—Well, I shouldn't probably be here."

She knew that voice. How could she forget them?

It wasn't fair that Jenna's heart skipped a beat once she heard your pitch, like you were worried or concerned. She recognized it all too well that it brought a sense of comfort in her soul.

"Y/n?" She whispered, noticing how you brought her into your trailer and sat her down. "Shit. Fuck, I'm supposed to be on set. Y/n, why am I—"

"Jenna. Jenna, hey, look at me," you grabbed her hands, your touch a bit too warm as you held hers tightly, but it never failed to give her peace. "I'm sorry, I know I'm not the one who should be doing this since you know, the whole shit that happened an hour ago."

Jenna looked down at your hands, your thumb slowly caressing the back of her palm, a silent permission. A permission she would always grant with open arms. Or maybe hands in this case.

You nodded, fixing yourself up on the couch as you look at Jenna. "We're gonna take deep breaths, alright? I'll be here, don't worry." You squeezed her hand in reassurance.

"No, y/n, I—I need to tell you something, please—"

"Jenna." You sighed, noticing how it wasn't out of annoyance but out of concern. "Your voice is cracking, you're stuttering, you're in a higher pitch than you are normally. And more importantly, you have tears in your eyes." You would sooner or later interlock your fingers with Jenna's offering another reassuring squeeze. "I'll protect you. You're safe with me, don't worry, please, Jenna."

Oh.

. . .

You know, people think sex is intimacy, the highest form of intimacy there is.

But they're wrong.

It’s being able to realize something heartbreaking, something that cuts you deep in your soul to the point where no amount of bandages will help. But somehow, someway, someone so special could heal it with their words.

It’s where you can be vulnerable with someone, be happy, be sad, be angry, be every emotion you’re afraid surrendering to. They will wrap their arms around you and whisper to you that they’re there for you. You’re safe with them.

It’s when you realize that heaven couldn’t be real if it isn’t with them.

It's when you realize that everyone got it wrong in perceiving them, noticing how you're the only one who truly understands them.

It’s when you realize every living and late poet was wrong in their writings, in their words, in their books. Love wasn’t an emotion, it wasn’t a choice. It was someone. Someone special.

It’s when you realize if ever you’ve completely turned the whole world against you, the time where you’ve devastated everyone in turn for your own selfish needs. Yet you will find yourself standing in front of them. Realizing you’ve spared them from your wrath.

You expect them to hurt you. To break you, to do everything within and over their power to make you experience the same pain you’ve inflicted.

Yet they will show no betrayal.

They will simply show understanding, awe even. Love. They will catch if you if you fall from the top you’ve tore and exhausted yourself. They will sing to you if you feel every melody has nothing. They will do everything, they will accept you, not only because of you, but because of what you carry, what you’re pretending not to be.

Love was never easy, Jenna knew that. You don’t listen to Pat Benatar or The Cascades to not know what true love does to someone; It will shatter you, then mend your now fragile heart like its nothing. It will let you experience grief, then peace. It will let you feel nothing, then everything. It’s not simple, never is. It’s complicated, it’s fucked up. It’s terrifying. So fucking terrifying.

But if Jenna was going to experience everything she’s thinking of right now; Agonizing heartache that feels like mercy isn’t even an option, and peace she had never felt before, it was going to be with you.

. . .

"Jenna? Jenna are you—"

She had never really truly felt luxury in a while until she let her trembling hands reach up to cup your cheeks, stealing one glance away from your eyes before closing her own and softly pressing her lips against yours.

What do you say to a friend you realized you’ve fallen in love with now?

Maybe you’d kiss them, like what Jenna is doing now. Let yourself bring peace in your world that is full of unjust morals—let them be a light, be something that felt half as right as loving the taste of their lips on yours.

Maybe you'd let them into your world. Remind them of how they're the only ones in this life were worth devoting your entire life to, how being in their presence was an experience of a life time.

Maybe you'd let them care about your entire being. Let yourself be vulnerable, be free within their arms. Let them tell you that they're going no where but to where you're headed, that peace only belongs to a place where you're present.

Maybe you’d tell them how you like the way they look at their belongings like it was their favorite part of the day? Tell them how they make you feel that everything is possible, how you knew that you’ll be living as much as they would be smiling.

Or maybe, Jenna would say this,

"Y/n," she broke off the kiss, her hands returning to her lap and intertwining with yours. "I'm sorry. I couldn't give a proper reaction to your confession earlier. It was so stupid of me I—"

You laughed. Fuck, your laugh was beautiful.

"Don't worry, Jenna. You don't really feel the same way as I do, and that's fine. I just—I just hope it won't ruin our friendship, you know?"

Jenna scoffed, eyebrows creasing, "No, y/n, give me time to talk, please." She laughed, then took a deep breath.

"I love you, y/n. I never really realized that, I mistook them for something lesser. Mostly because love wasn’t the right term to describe it. Love is simple, fast, overused, something tossed around so carelessly that it couldn't be something I'd say to you; you don’t deserve such a weak word that has no meaning but tarnished from other people. It’s not complex, like how you’re represented in my soul, how you grown ivy around my heart as if I’m trapped in your unbearable love, yet why do I accept such an idea that is only a metaphor that I wish it were true? It's clear that no one knows me greater than you have. It happens more often than not that people will see right through me, only to find a barricade of walls that reflects repressed emotions that keep them from entering. But you tell a different story, different words that people don’t use to tear at my heart. You whisper something so precious that I wish to hear again but I shouldn't before I fall. You unravel my soul with a gentleness that defies everything, that makes me wonder where pure tenderness comes from if it isn't from you. I've known you for long enough to know what the sound of your voice is in, whether your anxious or joyful, how your voice is the sole reason why I sleep without your arms wrapped around my body. I want nothing but to hold you in my arms, to lie beside you in nothing but eternal slumber then rise again if you are ever disturbed. I want to fear nothing, to be afraid of nothing, to have death be a mere word unless your name is next towards it. My name is always associated with me being an actress, a talented one, someone who would no longer be a name hidden in the dust but someone who would rise to the top. A glamorous world is what they would tell me, everything I would want is granted. But why aren't you there in the vision they see? The lover that I yearn for, a home that would finally bring me peace, the home that I wouldn't escape from with bare melodies that lay emotions that I couldn't voice. I just—Fuck, I love you, y/n. Through a decade we've been together, it's only now that I realize that life without you is simply a life worth killing myself to. Death shouldn't be an option when you're around me, it should be something we'll defy, an afterlife that would fail in making us part ways from eachother. I love you. Really. I'm sorry, I just didn't know what to say or do, but I love you. I've realized that."

The silence was unbearable, only now did she realize she blurted out a confession only those who're dead can say in a sentence without stuttering.

"No, no Jenna…" You pushed her hands away from yours, the action stinging her own hands as you stepped back, putting unfamiliar distance between the two of you.

"Y/n, what?" She scoffed, her voice betraying her of a flat tone, "What do you mean, I thought—" Jenna immediately reached out for your arm, her words were faltering, her fingers now trembling as they threatened to brush against your skin.

She was expecting to get yelled at to leave, to never show her face to yours ever again. But as she looked into your eyes, she was met with tears that dared to glisten your gaze. "Are you… are you crying?"

You chuckled, "You know… You know I can't compete with that confession, Jenna. It's unfair to those who don't have a habit of staying up late and writing poems." You brought your hands up to your eyes and wiping away the tears that fell on your cheek, only to be replaced by warm ones.

Jenna cupped your face, her thumb caressing the gentle touch and warmth of your skin, feeling how you leaned into her touch almost immediately. "Oh, you're awful. You had me worrying that I said something wrong or you changed your mind."

"Oh, no, never." You laughed it away, shrugging the tears that continue to stain your face. Then, without a word, you reached up to cradle her own face in your hands, letting her place them down on your lap and close the remaining distance of the two of you that were seated far too apart from eachother.

"I never really thought that you'd say yes. Or say something too poetic." You whispered to her, daring yourself to not drown in her pool of brown eyes that threatened to kill you if you looked too closely.

"I never really thought that I would truly love someone, and look at that turned out."

"Like what?"

"Like I never wanted to love someone more than I loved everything." She tilted her head, leaning forward and closing the distance between your lips and hers. A soft but gentle press to your own, yet it was fervent.

She pulled away, only so slightly that your lips never touched eachother again before they fall into the same predicament as addiction. But close that she could feel your heartbeat, your warm breath against hers, everything that made you you.

"So, this is love?" She whispered.

"Dangerously attractive in a form of a human?" You smirked, winking even, before Jenna rolled her eyes.

She scoffed, "I was going to take you out to dinner, but you are awful at charming someone."

"Take me out to dinner and I'll never make that statement again."

"Deal. I'd splurge a shit ton of money for you not to repeat it ever again."

"You pain me. I love you."

"I love you too."

And then she kissed you, holding you tight as if reminding you're more than just a friend.

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a/n: i'm in a desperate need of a girlfriend. also in the span of my 1 week break ive written only 2 stories. its such a low number damn 😭😭😭 (+ then he kissed by by the crystals reference at the end!)

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x femreader #jenna ortega x female reader

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