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roosterforme · 7 months ago

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Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 7 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: One phone call was never going to be enough for Bradley. Another opportunity falls into his lap, and he emails you right away to see if you can make a little time for him. When he shares a bit more with you than he bargained for, he's pleasantly surprised once again by how open and authentic you are.

Warnings: Fluff, language, Bradley being vulnerable

Length: 4300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Bradley was never usually one to get lost in a daydream. He was exceptionally good at focusing on flying when he was in the air. If he had a task to complete on the ground, he always got it done. But when he spent the rest of his day after talking on the phone with you in his bunk, he wasn't focused on much except the sound of your voice. Then he dug out the pictures you'd mailed to him so he could see your face as well. The combination of everything about you was almost too much, and he didn't know how he'd manage in person.

He still had weeks of his deployment left, and he'd never wanted to get home so badly in his life. That first date was already set. He was annoyed he couldn't give you a firm idea on when it could happen, but you didn't seem to mind too much. In fact, you told him you'd be ready whenever he got back. And that you'd take him any way you could get him. Well, as long as you still wanted him next month, you could have him.

With a smile on his face, Bradley reached for the stack of letters from your class and took the time to judge the drawing contest. All he really did was award each kid their own unique superlative. The purple jet that he thought was Violet's won the 'I Wish the Navy Liked Colors' award. Jayden's drawing of the jet with the dog named Vanessa for a pilot won the 'She Probably Flies Better Than I Do' award. And the one that looked like a dragon won the 'Fanciest Scales' award.

He wrote on the back of each picture, chuckling the whole time. Then he got to the one you drew, and he noticed something he'd missed when he first opened the newest box from your class. Next to his name written on the side of the F/A-18, you'd drawn a little heart. He was all smiles as he flipped it over and started writing.

Hey, Gorgeous,

This one's my favorite, but don't tell the kiddos, okay? The little heart really sold it for me. I can't wait to see you.

Bradley

After he packaged everything up and dropped it off to be sent back to the states, he made his way to dinner. He ate his meatloaf alone once again, but he hadn't felt lonely in months. The adrenaline rush of the phone call was finally starting to wear off, but he felt warm all over. You'd be asleep now back in California, but maybe there was a chance you had in fact emailed him that selfie before you went to bed. And that is what once again lured him back to the lounge. You had a vise-like grip on every part of him, and he was itching to know exactly what you looked like tonight while he was talking to you.

Unsurprisingly, he had to wait a bit until there was a computer free that he could use. Sundays always seemed to be when the lounge was swamped, but he didn't mind. He just sat back and thought about the way you said his name. He could imagine you whispering it. He could even imagine you screaming it.

"Shit," he grunted, hopping up when it was finally his turn, and he logged into his email account to find that you wrote to him approximately fifteen minutes after the phone call ended. And when he opened your message, he leaned in a little closer to make sure nobody else around him could catch even a glimpse of the photos you attached.

His heart started beating in that same erratic way it had when he listened to you telling him you thought about kissing his scars. Not only had you emailed him a sweet looking selfie of you in bed wearing an oversized sweatshirt, you sent a second, decidedly spicier one, too.

Bradley ran his hand over his mouth and mustache, trying not to groan as he quickly memorized every detail of that second photo. You'd removed that oversized sweatshirt and snuggled down under the soft looking sheet, and there was not a scrap of shirt fabric covering your arms or chest. Inch after glorious inch of the soft swell of your breasts was visible before the sheet forced him to imagine what the rest would look like. And he had a very vivid imagination.

When his hand dropped down to his side, he realized he was staring open mouthed at the photo. The little smirk you wore in it let him know you were absolutely intentional about this, and that was such a huge turn on for him. This is how you wanted him to see you. Fuck. He scrolled back up to the first photo where you were wearing your sweatshirt and a much more innocent smile, and he whispered, "Okay, Gorgeous. You've ruined me."

He realized as he scrolled all the way back up to your actual message that there were probably a lot of guys who got sent straight up pornography from their wives or girlfriends when they were deployed, but this had to be the hottest looking thing that ever graced his inbox. And you were still completely covered up. He shook his head to clear his mind as he started reading.

Bradley,

Thank you for the phone call. I'm sitting here kind of regrouping while the butterflies are still going crazy in my belly. I can't pinpoint exactly what it is with you that sets them off, but hearing your voice for twenty minutes straight has turned me into a boneless heap on my bed. I'm almost afraid of what might happen to me if you touch me.

It's gone. I deleted my profile and the entire dating app. I'm no longer looking for single guys with jobs who are between 30 and 40 years old. I'm just looking for a 36-year old Naval aviator who wants to take me to the beach in Coronado to watch the sunset with Thai food and Prosecco.

I hope you come home soon. Do you have any idea how much longer you'll be gone? Why isn't the Navy taking into consideration the fact that you and I have a date to go on? I'd just really like to see your face in person as soon as possible.

I'm attaching two photos, probably against my better judgement. Maybe it's just my excuse to get you to call me Gorgeous again. I can't wait to see you.

Your favorite pen pal

He wanted to wait until he had some gym selfies to send, but he couldn't leave you hanging. Not when those two, flawless photos caught his eye again. So he started typing up a response, and soon he found that he wanted to talk to you on the phone again badly enough that he was going to go back to one of the admirals to see if there was any way he could.

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

You had such a hard time falling asleep on Saturday night after talking to Bradley. It was like your body had accepted the inevitable before your brain had. You were completely enchanted by him, and the call made it so much worse. Hearing him call you Gorgeous through your phone speaker was almost more than you could handle. You were turned on and too warm, even without your sweatshirt. You couldn't believe you sent him that photo. You couldn't believe you trusted him enough to keep it private.

He probably dated women in the past who sent him things that were way more explicit than a selfie where they were covered up, but you were still a teacher who wanted to keep her job. You loved your class, and you knew nobody else could handle your kids as well as you could. But you wanted to give Bradley what you could for now.

It was the description of the perfect date and the promise that he'd kiss you as soon as he saw you that kept playing in your mind. And you let it keep playing on loop, because he lived in Coronado. And that's how you finally dozed off. When you woke up on Sunday morning, you had a brand new email in response to your selfies.

Gorgeous,

I'm thrilled to hear the app is gone. All of the other single guys aged thirty to forty are probably at home crying right now, and I can't blame them. I'll just sit here with a smug look on my face.

That phone call was one of the best of my life. The way you say my name is somehow better than I imagined it would sound, and I'd been spending a lot of my free time thinking about it. Hearing your voice and seeing you in these photos is a privilege. That second one had me staring with my mouth hanging open for a few minutes. I think I just about memorized it, but I'm going to check one more time before I log off. Okay, maybe two more times. As much as I love it, I don't want to feel pressured to send me things like that. But dear god, Gorgeous, I mean it when I say you take that word to a whole new level.

You don't need an excuse to get me to call you Gorgeous. Hopefully by next month, you'll be hearing it so much in person that you'll be sick of it. And it's not a matter of if I touch you, it's a matter of when.

As soon as I have a better idea of when I'll be back in San Diego, that information will be in your inbox immediately.

I can't wait to see you,

Bradley

You couldn't wait that long. You would never make it. Your sheets were brushing your bare skin as you thought about him calling you Gorgeous so many times that you got sick of it, but you knew that would never happen. You were going to need another hobby or maybe five to help you pass the time, but for now, you decided to work on your lesson plans for the coming week.

Your kids would probably be happy to learn that you were planning on extending your aviation lessons to the end of the school year. Or at least until Bradley got back. What you wouldn't give to have him visit your classroom. Just the idea of him standing in front of the board, maybe in his flight suit, left you light headed. You already knew your kids would be absolutely delighted to meet him after writing back and forth so many times.

After you managed to distract yourself for a full day, you were just getting into bed when you heard your phone ping with a notification. "Oh god," you groaned in pleasure. When you opened the new email from Bradley, you were met with the promised gym selfies. One was of his reflection which was taken in a long mirror that seemed to cover most of a wall. You could see some other people working out in the background, but front and center was Bradley curling a massive looking dumbbell in snug shorts and a shirt with the sleeves ripped off.

You dropped down onto your bed and zoomed in on his biceps. "Dear Lord." Your heart was hammering in your chest now. Did he not know what he looked like? Did he not know that his body was absolutely flawless? The second photo was even better. The half-smirk, half-smile and the peek of pretty, white teeth. The slightly messy hair. The chocolatey brown eyes. The scars with the beads of sweat running down them. "Unbelievable."

And then you read the short message.

Two gym selfies, as promised. You asked for a nice closeup of my face, and that's as good as it gets. Talk soon, Gorgeous.

You were still looking at the photos when you fell asleep.

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Bradley shouldn't have been surprised that another mission was in the works. He'd been so caught up in you, he almost expected smooth sailing and a direct path back to San Diego so he could get on with his personal life. But no such luck. After several days holed up in planning sessions, the only real happiness he found was in each new email from you.

There was another class photo in one. There was a selfie of you at a Thai restaurant in another. And there were always a lot of fun details about your day, too. But it was the bits where you let him know you were thinking about him that made him a little weaker for you with every passing day. His favorite was when you told him you donated all of your DVDs of movies with spiders in them. He also loved it when you told him that your students wanted to meet him.

If he could just get back, you and he would be watching all the spider-less movies together, and he'd be more than happy to visit your classroom. But, fuck, this deployment was dragging. He was tired, but he wasn't sleeping well. And there seemed to be cabbage rolls every evening in the cafeteria. When he finally made it out on deck a few days before he was supposed to fly the mission, he ended up talking to Marty.

"You need a hand with that?" Bradley asked the mechanic as he worked on taking apart an engine.

"Sure, Lieutenant," Marty replied, handing Bradley some very greasy bolts and a wrench. "Just hang onto those for me."

Two minutes of watching him work, and Bradley wished he'd brought his phone with him to record a video for your class. "The kids would love this," he muttered, and Marty chuckled.

"You still sending stuff to that elementary class back in San Diego? The pen pals?"

"Yeah," Bradley replied. "I think I've kind of adopted them. Or maybe they've adopted me? Either way, I've been writing to them this entire deployment. And... you know how you asked me if I was dating a teacher a few months ago?"

Marty looked at him and laughed. "Let me guess. You fell for their teacher?"

He nodded and sighed when he thought about you. "Yeah... it's just been a lot of emails and letters and one phone call, but now I can't wait to get back home."

"Damn," Marty grunted as he removed another bolt. "Some guys have all the luck." Bradley ended up helping him lift some heavy parts from a crate as Marty told him, "I have a ten minute FaceTime call scheduled for later this week if you want to use it to talk to your new girlfriend again."

Bradley was ready to jump at the chance to see your face and hear your voice at the same time, but instead he said, "I can't take that from you, but thanks, man."

Marty shrugged. "I'll just end up talking to my sister again. You can have it."

Bradley stared at him for a few seconds. "Yeah? You're sure?"

"All yours."

Bradley stayed long enough to get the details and help Marty unload everything else he needed to finish his project, and then he got cleaned up and went to the lounge to email you. If you were able to talk to him over FaceTime, it would be everything he needed to get through this last flight mission and end his deployment on a high note.

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

"Lieutenant Bradshaw said my drawing is the funniest one!"

"Lieutenant Bradshaw likes the rooster beak I put on my jet!"

"Lieutenant Bradshaw said mine is the least realistic in a good way!"

You were trying not to laugh as you looked at each of the little messages Bradley wrote on the backs of the F/A-18 drawings. They were all somehow well thought out and personalized. It was as if he actually knew these kids. But you supposed that in a way, he did. You kept going back to your desk to look at the note on the back of your drawing.

Hey, Gorgeous,

This one's my favorite, but don't tell the kiddos, okay? The little heart really sold it for me. I can't wait to see you.

Bradley

Seeing him was all you could think about now. You were almost completely convinced that your feelings would translate well from virtual to personal interaction. How could they not? He was as sweet and sincere over the phone as he was through his writing.

When you checked your phone after your kids were dismissed for the day, you tapped on a new email from Bradley before you started packing your bag to head home.

Gorgeous, any chance you have ten minutes you're willing to spend on a FaceTime call? Tomorrow night around 8:00 for you?

You squeaked in delight at the mere thought of it. His face and his voice and his words and his attention all at the same time? Ten minutes of it?

Yes! I'll be ready!

Now you had to wait. You also had to get your friends to bump up the Friday night dinner reservation to 5:00. And you needed to make sure you looked nicer than you did when you were usually lounging at home in your oversized sweatshirt.

So when Friday evening rolled around, and you barely made it home from dinner by 8:00, you were a little frazzled. You wanted to take the time to fix your makeup, and you wanted to change into a cuter shirt that your friends would have definitely called you out on if they saw you wearing it to dinner, but there was no time. Your phone was already ringing at 8:01.

This time, the butterflies erupted as soon as you accepted the call and saw Bradley sitting there in his flight suit with a hesitant smile on his face. He didn't even have to say a word to make you feel like you were going to float up to the ceiling even as you tried to sit down on your bed.

"Bradley," you breathed softly, and his smile grew exponentially.

"Hey, Gorgeous."

You bit your lip as you took in all the details of his face on your tiny phone screen. His brown eyes were wide as he did the same to you, and you couldn't stop yourself before you said, "Hey, Handsome."

His cheeks immediately flushed with a pink tint, and he looked down at the table in front of him with a bashful smile. You wanted to climb through your phone to get to him, settle yourself down on his lap, and feel how rough his flight suit was against your hands. You wanted to tip his face up so he was looking at you again, and when he did that on his own, you almost screamed in delight at what he said next.

"Damn, Baby. You didn't need to get all dressed up just to talk to me. You look beautiful right now, but I'm also partial to your sweatshirt."

You looked down at yourself and then back at him with a little laugh. He was staring at you in awe as you said, "I always look like this."

"You always look like this? You always look this hot?" he asked, that little grin you liked so much dancing around his lips. "Seriously?"

"Well, I mean, I didn't do anything special. I wanted to, but I ran out of time, and I definitely didn't want to miss your call."

Your heart was thudding as he really scanned your face and let out a low whistle. "I guess I'll find out for myself soon enough. About two more weeks to go, and then I'll be home. I just got that information today."

"Two weeks!" you exclaimed, nearly dropping your phone. Images of beach sunsets and Bradley's big hand holding yours filled your mind. "That's better than I was hoping for!"

You watched him run his hand through his hair, almost like he was nervous now. "Same. So what do you say? Two Saturdays from now, as long as everything goes as planned, you want to go on that first date with me?"

"Yes, Bradley," you replied immediately. "If you want to spend your first day back on dry land with me, then that's absolutely what I want to do."

His voice was deep and raspy as he said, "Then it's a date." But his eyes still seemed uncertain, and you knew instinctively that there was more going on as he asked, "You think... maybe we could talk about date number two for a minute? I was thinking we would go out to a restaurant so I can prove to you that I clean up okay."

You had to press your lips together for a few seconds before you said, "I have no doubt in my mind that you'd look just as good in a tee shirt as you would in a tuxedo."

That made him laugh as he scratched along the stubble on his jaw. "Humor me, Gorgeous? We would end up going out on a second date, right?" he asked, and somehow you could tell that something else was on his mind. "Maybe we would even go on a third?"

"Would?" you asked softly. "Don't you mean will?"

"Shit, I'm sorry," he said, leaning in a little closer. "Yeah. We will."

You and he studied each other as you asked, "Is there something wrong?"

He leaned back in his seat, and your heart started beating a most uncomfortable rhythm. "Damn it," he muttered, closing his eyes briefly as he took a deep breath. "We only have a few minutes on here, and I'm fucking it up because I'm nervous." You noticed he was rubbing his palms along his thighs, and he looked you in the eye as he said, "I really like you. All I can think about is getting home and doing all the things I promised. I don't usually feel like I have anything special to look forward to in San Diego. Or at least I didn't before we started talking." He cleared his throat and added, "I'm flying a final mission here in a few hours. It's a sensitive one, and... I just wanted you to know that I'll be thinking about you until I have to put my head down and get to work."

"Oh," you gasped, suddenly more aware than ever that he had the kind of anxiety inducing, adrenaline spiking job you could only ever dream of. Your fourth grade classroom was tame by comparison. Your students were nothing compared to opposing fighter jets. His career was dangerous.

Tears filled your eyes as he groaned a little bit and whispered, "I'm sorry, Baby. I kind of killed the vibe."

"You didn't," you told him quickly, studying the concern written on his features. Then your voice got even softer as you asked, "How will I know you're okay?"

He cleared his throat and said, "Sometimes they close off communication as we get closer to port. Of course I'll email you if I can, otherwise I'll let you know when I'm back in San Diego." His brown eyes flicked to the side and then back to you. "I'm going to have to go in a minute here."

There were a lot of things you knew would have to be left unsaid for now, so you told him what you could. "I really like you, too," you promised him, and some of the worry melted away from his face. "And I'm thinking dinner at an Italian restaurant for our second date. That way you can get cleaned up nice, and I can wear a dress that I'll be stressing out about all night long. And you can tell me that I look gorgeous while my foot keeps intentionally bumping yours under the table." He was smiling now, so you decided to go for broke. "And you kind of promised me takeout on your couch with a spider-free movie. I was hoping you'd play a song on the piano for me. I was hoping to cover both of us with a blanket and kiss you senseless. How does that sound?" You were gripping your phone a little tighter, hoping you'd be able to hear his response before he said he had to go.

"That sounds perfect, Gorgeous," he said, looking a lot calmer now. "Let's do that."

"Please, be careful."

"I will."

And then he was gone.

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Bradley needed to make it home, because he decidedly had a lot to do there. Nat was expecting not one, but two dinners out of him now. There were eighteen fourth graders he wanted to meet. And as he ended a FaceTime call with the woman of his dreams while she had tears in her eyes, he knew he wanted to go on those dates more than anything else. If he never got to meet you in person... well he couldn't even think about that right now. He was supposed to report to his jet on the main runway in an hour, but you kept popping up in every corner of his mind. You were more emotionally open with him over a ten minute call than Vanessa ever was.

"Bradshaw!" He turned to see a petty officer coming toward him with a box. "Last mail call."

"Thank you," he replied, already smiling as he recognized your handwriting. His nineteen pen pals were here to keep him company once again, and his heart swelled with something he didn't even want to try to identify at the moment. All he could do was drop the box off in his bunk and tell himself he'd open it when he got back after nightfall.

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Vulnerable Bradley is nervous just thinking about what might happen. He's starting to feel like Gorgeous could be be the one waiting on the San Diego end of all of his deployments from now on, but he needs to get through the rest of this one first. Maybe they can meet in the next part? Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 8

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onlyswan · 11 months ago

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summary: in which leaving the past behind is not as easy as forgetting, and you want to be everything jungkook wants to know.

idol!jungkook x f!reader, est. relationship / angst, fluff / wc: 7.9k

playlist: strange by celeste / sinking by clairo / manta rays by chloe moriondo / ceilings by beabadoobee / iris (cover) by phoebe bridgers & maggie rogers

content/warnings: [deep breath] no one will know the violence it took to become this gentle / it’s their first winter as a couple / oc’s ex bf slaps oc / jk beats up the ex / blood and bruises / crying :( / mention of cheating (not in our main’s rs we don’t tolerate that in this household :]) / mention of s*x / jimin as both their older brother and friend :(

in which masterlist!

note: greeting 2024 with angst woopsie… i literally ugly sobbed writing a particular scene T_T… anwww i hope it’s a good read <3 as always reblogs and feedback are appreciated! i’d love to hear your thoughtsss 🥺

—

the word VICTORY flashes across the screen.

with a proud smirk adorning his lips, jungkook pushes down his headphones to hang around his neck.

he rises from his seat, resting his crossed arms over the partition dividing the computer that you’re renting from his.

“hi, baby. are you almost done?”

he chuckles to himself when he realizes that you didn’t hear him, not with the music blasting from your headphones. you direct your attention upwards when endless song by no reply is abruptly put on pause; the cushions of the headphones are pressed up against your cheek by your boyfriend’s doing.

“what?”

“hi, baby. are you almost done?”

“oh, yes…” your focus returns to the screen, fast fingers dancing along the keyboard without an ounce of hesitation weighing on them. “i just… need to… send the file to my email.”

jungkook blinks at the long rows of words you’re masterfully curating, thinking to himself — how the hell do you think and type that fast at the same time?

it was his suggestion to stay at a pc bang tonight so you could be together while you each do your own thing. he spent his half of his day-off playing games, and during that time, you worked on your research paper and finished an essay that isn’t even due for another week. you took a break every hour, munched on some snacks, and cheered him on while he was diligently playing. perhaps he could’ve done something more productive today, but it couldn’t have made him happier.

he holds out the last slice of gimbap in between chopsticks, lightly poking your lips, and his heart flutters when you offer him a sweet smile after welcoming the big bite with some difficulty, cheeks full and nose scrunched.

“is there anything else you want to eat?”

you shake your head, and unable to speak while chewing, you gesture for water as if you’re playing charades.

a kiss is granted to your forehead.

when he comes back with a bottled water, all your tabs have been closed and you’re wearing your white beret again, re-organizing your belongings in your backpack.

“ready to leave?” he inquires as he hands your order.

you hum as a reply, standing from your seat as you swing the backpack over your head to wear it with little to no effort.

jungkook thinks you’re so cool.

you visit the restroom as he settles the bill. when you come out, he’s already pulling out a credit card from his wallet. you decide to head straight for the door then, wait for him outside as the air inside the room has started to feel a little too stuffy after you stepped away from the computer.

you’ve always thought about it— how time stands still when you experience something traumatic, how that moment feels stretched for eternity… how utterly barbaric that is. you’re forced to memorize frames of the origin of your scars, relive it over and over again, eyes closed and open. moments of happiness, on the other hand, are fleeting. they are sand slipping through the gaps of your fingers. getting out of bed is scooping them in your hands and praying that they will hold on to you in the following rotations and revolutions of the earth. they never do.

there he stood at the bottom of the stairs, just as horrified as you.

his face is the last thing you want to see on a winter night.

because you still recall the amalgamation of emotions in his eyes two winters ago. his skin was flushed from the cold, but he turned redder with anger and your stomach coiled in shame.

“juwon?”

the name felt odd in your mouth. it’s like when you eat a food you haven’t had in a long time, and it doesn’t quite taste like you remember it.

and to be honest, you didn’t know what you expected to happen when he carried on to climb the remaining steps that led to you. but it definitely wasn’t… this.

the first hand to carress your bare body, as if it was in disbelief of its existence, and the rings you used to blindly adore— they collide with your cheek with a sound that resonates in your eardrums.

the slap thins out into a ringing noise.

“are you insane?!”

it continues to assault your hearing even as you scream and hit him back.

it ends when someone bumps against your shoulder in a haste, and the next thing you register is juwon lying on the ground with jungkook sitting on top him, balled fist throwing unforgiving punches at your ex-boyfriend’s face. juwon is held hostage by the shock and is unable to reciprocate jungkook’s aggression. he attempts to fight back but your boyfriend dodges easily.

“jungkook! stop, stop, stop!”

you run down the stairs with panic thundering in your chest, nearly in tears as you forcefully grasp at the back of jungkook’s coat to pull him away, but with his strength and the adrenaline flowing through his veins, your efforts prove to be fruitless.

“you fucking bastard! i’m gonna kill you!”

“that’s enough-” you cry out. “please!”

“how dare you lay a hand on my girlfriend like that, huh?!”

he is furious, gripping the collar of juwon’s sweater and slamming him to the ground.

“your girl?” coughing, juwon faces the side to spit out the blood in his mouth, which then shapes into an arrogant smirk. “didn’t you know? ____ was mine first. i was the first!”

the next punch he receives cuts his lower lip open, and a stronger metallic taste assaults his tongue.

“jungkook!”

before jungkook could inflinct more permanent damage, you resort to holding back his arm with both of your hands.

your gazes connect, and your heart drops to your stomach. he is seething with anger. your blood runs cold and a thick haze clouds your thinking. you can’t move your limbs. what do you do? what do you do? what do you do?

“____, let go. i’m not fucking finished with him.”

“please,” you beg, ignorant of the tears that have begun to slide down your cheeks. “that’s enough. look at him!”

“and why should i care?” he spits out as he shrugs you off.

“ah, jungkook! i said that’s enough! why won’t you listen to me?!”

your desperate tantrum falls on deaf ears. you squeeze your eyes shut when he re-assumes his stance, tucks his thumb over his folded fingers, exactly what he taught you about making a proper fist to avoid injuring one’s self when boxing.

“stop it! you’re scaring me!”

that throws a bucket of ice over jungkook’s head. the anger in his eyes is replaced by vacancy, and with that, juwon seizes the opportunity to finally strike him with a jab and escape from underneath him. jungkook finds himself pushed aside on the ground with a throbbing cheek, mostly likely to be noticeably bruised in the next hours.

“love-” you gasp, and you rush over to him but your path gets rudely obstructed by your ex.

“is this the guy you cheated on me with?”

he is extremely near that you can feel him panting on your face. two years later, your stomach coils in disgust. your glare is venomous, and if only looks could kill, if only looks could kill…

“just leave, won’t you? what’s the point of all this?” you roughly push him away with your remaining shred of energy, driven by exhaustion and frustration. “it was so long ago! get a fucking grip!”

he huffs in disbelief as he wipes the blood from the corner of his mouth. it also drips from his nose and eyebrow. strange enough, you do not feel guilt nor compassion for this man. not anymore.

“are you seriously crying just because he got punched one time…? isn’t that a little unfair? you loved me too. once.” he snickers, but he is visibly pissed off. he can no longer look at you in the eye. “shit, is he that much of a better fuck than me?”

your skin crawls. bile creeps up your throat. technically speaking, this is the consequence of your own actions, but you can’t help but to be resentful.

“you are…” your voice trembles, but your glare remains unwavering. “still as despicable and shallow as ever… and i don’t regret what i did.”

and it may have been a long time ago, but you still know how to hit him where it hurts the most— his ego.

you purposely bump against his shoulder as you make your way to jungkook, leaving him speechless as he stares at the ground. the night the two of you broke up, you were crying and begging him for forgiveness… what the fuck happened?

“let’s go home.” you demand quietly while refusing to meet jungkook’s stare— a mix of confusion, offense, and rage.

but the thing about juwon? he always needs to have the last word.

“you better keep a close eye. you might think you know ____, but whores never change. especially those who became one so young.”

“dude, how are you still speaking?!”

it’s too late when you realize that jungkook has left your side. he swings at juwon’s face with a force that sends the man stumbling backwards. he completely loses balance then collapses on the ground with a curse that almost misses your ears.

“don’t ever go near ____ again! don’t even think of it! if you show your face to me again, i might really end up fucking killing you. you hear me?!”

—

jungkook doesn’t recall a time when he felt a rage this intense and consuming. witnessing you get slapped, his vision went dark and he was shaking with fury. everything was a blur after that, but he knew one thing: this man violated the most precious person to him, and he won’t allow him to get away with that unscathed.

and that must be why he feels restless until now. neither one of you has dared to utter a word for the past couple of minutes. he can’t see your face as you’re walking ahead of him, leading the way with his wrist in your cold hand. however, he can hear your sniffles, and he can see you wiping your tears dry with the back of your hand. he thought he has experienced heartbreak, but this pain cuts deeper than anything he has ever felt.

“baby, let’s go back.”

he breaks the silence, standing infront of you to stop you on your tracks. he almost reeks of desperation as he intertwines your fingers together.

“please? there should be a cctv camera infront. we can sue him.”

“are you even hearing yourself? you’ll also get into trouble!”

his insistence only fuels the urge to cry and scream and break things. it’s an understatement to say that you’re ashamed. it was foolish of you, really, to assume that leaving the past behind would be as easy as forgetting. it may be out of sight but it is everywhere, and it sneaks up on you without tell and mercy.

“you attacked him out of nowhere! he can sue you for that too!”

“out of nowhere?” he repeats your words slowly, hurt flashing across his face. “i was protecting you, ____! who knows what else he could’ve done? and the shit he was talking about you? was i just supposed to stand there and do nothing?”

“and i’m protecting you too! why did you even have to punch him again?! he was obviously just trying to provoke you! god, i-” you release the air in your lungs you didn’t realize you’ve been holding. “thank god he didn’t see your face.”

that struck a nerve for some reason. he harshly rips off the mask that has been concealing half of his face all along.

“he hit you! look- fuck, you’re bleeding-”

oh, his rings must’ve grazed you.

jungkook brings out a clean white handkerchief from the backpocket of his pants, pressing it softly against your cheek. the sharp sting forces you to grit your teeth. it’s not only the wound… your skin is still warm and tender from the assault. you’re terrified to look at the mirror. you don’t want to feel sorry for yourself.

“and that’s what you’re really worried about right now?”

“okay, then i’m sorry for caring about my boyfriend and his career! i’m sorry, okay?!“

he dies a little inside when you harshly push his hand aside.

so this is what it feels like to be at the other end of your anger… shitty. it feels really shitty. after what happened, there is no sadness or fear. the twinkle in your eyes have been replaced with sharp daggers and it is gutwrenching to watch. it clicks for him then: you weren’t scared of him. you were scared for him.

he doesn’t allow you to go further than ten feet away. he seizes your arm before sneaking his hand on your waist to tug you closer to his body.

“you think i’m letting you out of my sight again? it’s not happening!”

you click your tongue in exasperation, left with no choice but to admit defeat as he hails the approaching taxi. you cover your face to hide from the blinding headlights.

ever the gentleman, jungkook opens the door for you.

“get in, ____.”

and the first thought that enters your mind: the air freshener is nauseating. it has to be something mixed with lemon.

you roll the window down as your boyfriend dictates the address of your destination to the taxi driver. not yours, but his. you send him an unimpressed scowl, but he only looks back at you challengingly under the warm dim light. the soft cloth is placed over your wound again, rudely snatched as you turn away from him. you hold it on your own as you watch the world outside the window, streetlamps with blurry light streaks and homes you will never set foot into. in the midst of your musing, you register the weight on your head, or its lack thereof. your beret landed on the ground in the aftermath of the first strike. what is there left to lose?

you thought you could be happy at last, but beside you is another soul you’ve stained with your bloody hands.

juwon was right, you never change.

—

“i still don’t think it’s right that i know the password.” you whisper as you push the door open.

“but i have a key to your house. what’s the difference?”

“i don’t know…” you begin removing your boots, carefully placing each one in the middle level of the shoe rack. “you live with six other people.”

“namjoon-hyung and yoongi-hyung are in their studios. the others went home.”

you enter the living room with jungkook hugging you from behind. his cheek rests on top of your shoulder, and he doesn’t want to let you go. the ride here was suffocating. he thought you wouldn’t talk to him for the rest of the night anymore.

you blink at jimin who is sprawled out on the sofa, a gray blanket that matches his sweatpants is covering his naked torso.

“why does he sleep here? doesn’t he have a bed?”

“the sofa is more comfortable.” he mumbles loud enough for you to hear as he opens his eyes halfway, but then he gives up and closes them again, curling in on himself to resume his slumber.

“okay… now i know what to get you for your birthday.”

for a brief second jungkook assumes that you’re joking, but you sounded way too nonchalant.

“a sofa?”

“a new mattress,” you blankly stare back at him, before proceeding to break free from his embrace to search for the bathroom.

he follows you like a lost puppy, whining. “why does he already have a birthday gift and i don’t?!”

“quiet!”

he winces. “sorry, hyung!”

—

you’re perched in the space between jungkook’s thighs, legs swung over one of them as he tenderly presses a cold compress against your left cheek. you’ve changed into the pair of pink cooky pajamas he wore a few times and has kept in his closet specially for you. sinking into his mattress, drowsiness has also begun to seep into the depths of your bones. it’s been an arduous week, and you’re exhausted of fighting in every sense of the word.

“he deserves more than what he got away with.” he mutters through gritted teeth.

“jungkook, enough.” you chide at him with a sigh. “let’s just forget about this.”

“your face is going to be bruised for atleast a week! how am i supposed to ‘just forget’? are you hearing yourself?”

your rhetoric question from earlier comes back to gnaw at your thread-like sanity. you feel backed into a corner. you can’t think of a solution that will put this issue at rest, much less make either one of you feel better.

“he’s not worth it.”

“you are to me.” he declares.

it’s impossible to argue with that. you want it to stay true. you want him to keep believing in you.

“i’m tired.” you whisper, removing yourself from his lap. “let’s go to sleep.”

he gazes at you with longing.

you are lying on his bed but you have never felt so far away.

“are we really not going to talk about this?”

“not now. i’m tired, jungkook.”

“baby…”

“juwon is a terrible person, but i had it coming…” you mumble. “that’s all there is to it.”

foreboding silence falls upon the bedroom. you can’t bring yourself to look at jungkook, so you close your eyes and pray that when the sun rises, this night will simply turn out to be a nightmare orchestrated by your wicked mind.

“whatever that is, it doesn’t warrant what he did.” he plants a gentle kiss on your forehead, and it takes everything in you not to fall apart into a thousand shards. “and i’m sorry that i couldn’t stop it from happening.”

—

jungkook returns after his shower, not yet done with drying his dripping hair with a towel. you’ve drifted off to sleep in the time that he was gone, lips slightly parted open as you breathe out puffs of air in a steady rhythm. your hair is a halo and you’re an angel snoozing on a cloud.

he heard it loud and clear, and you haven’t denied it either, but there’s not a part of him that believes it. is he blindly in love with you? is this what he was warning him about? are you not an angel, but a siren?

wary of waking you up, he attaches a bandaid to your cheek. he flicks the lightswitch but he turns on the night lamp so you won’t have to manuever the dark incase you wake up in the middle of the night in need of the bathroom.

shit, shit, shit. he curses in his head when you begin shuffling as soon as he settles himself on the bed, but it’s just you unknowingly seeking for warmth in your sleep. he gathers you in his arms and your pillow is abandoned in favor of his naked chest. it always feels fitting, like his heart is the stuffed toy that you can’t go without at night.

he swallows the lump in his throat, brushing your hair away from your face to gently caress your soft skin. you look so serene. but your ex’s fingers can be traced on the red bruise that has tainted your cheek and his jaw clenches, hand momentarily balling into a fist to release the leftover anger still boiling in his blood. everyday, you feel the need to act tough because of people like him, and you are… but deep down, he knows, that you just crave to be loved.

“you loved me too. once.”

however, that has lost its meaning when juwon didn’t love you the way you deserved to be loved.

and jungkook admits it’s not as easy for him to do in a whole different dimension. he leads a kind of life not everyone survives, but that never stopped him for trying his damn hardest.

—

you’re awoken in the middle of the night by jungkook’s forehead accidentally knocking against yours. his snoring doesn’t cease, however, and you had to remind yourself that this is the same boy who continued sleeping despite rolling off his inflated sleeping bag on camera.

you slowly sit up as you rub the sleep from your eyes. you spend an unknown amount of time spaced out, barely blinking. afterwards, you force yourself to leave the comfort of the bed, taking the cold compress along with you. you drain the melted ice over the kitchen sink before opening the refrigerator to refill it with ice cubes. you can’t help but to allow your eyes to wander around, which then leads you to contemplate on whether to cook ramen or not… but then again, it’s already 3am and most likely, you won’t be able to sleep again if you do.

“yah! why are doing just standing there?”

the deep voice echoes throughout the kitchen. you yelp in shock, nearly dropping the ice bag as you tap on your pounding chest.

“i told you to stop doing that!”

jimin bursts into a fit of too delighted giggles, hunched over the kitchen counter as he places a hand over his belly. he’s fully clothed this time, fresh from the shower, judging from his hair.

“it’s not funny!” you whine. “one of these days i might be holding a knife when you do that!”

“ey, what would you be holding a knife for? jungkook never lets you lift a finger while you’re here.”

that’s just because he knows you’re not very talented in the kitchen.

the wide smile on his face then fades, expression morphing into one of concern as he studies your face bathed by the refrigerator light.

“what happened to your face?”

fuck, you’ve completely forgotten about that.

“it’s a long story.” you sigh, closing the refrigerator.

“it’s alright. i have all the time in the world to listen.”

“you know that i really appreciate that and i’m grateful but…” your smile borders on a wince. “no, you don’t. get some more sleep, please.”

your unexpected response causes jimin to scratch his head shyly. the two of you stare at each other for a few seconds before laughing at the same time.

“oh, that’s right!” you pause on your tracks when an essential item pops in your mind. “do you have healing ointment? for cuts and bruises and stuff?”

“it’s for jungkook,” you add.

“doesn’t he have that?”

“it’s not here,”

your sweet smile tells jimin everything he needs to know.

“ah, that kid really comes home to different houses now. he’s all grown up.”

“…and how many exactly?” you arch an eyebrow.

he purses his lips together, jokingly pretending to think hard. “the dorm… and then his family… then there’s you?”

“anywhere else?”

“nope!”

“sooo, do you have it or not?”

“i’ll go downstairs and buy it right now.”

he offers you a kind smile and pats on the head. a protest dies down in your throat as he goes straight for the front door.

“thank you!”

“you’re welcome!”

—

despite your active efforts to avoid making any sort of noise, the door produces a small ‘click’ as you cautiously close it behind you. you discover that jungkook has flipped over to face your side, his arm outstretched as if he was reaching out for you. you almost feel bad for leaving him alone in bed, so you sit next to him, positioned on the lower half of the bed since he took up your space.

a short snore escapes him, one that rises then falls so abruptly, like a note on the piano pressed on accident. you cover your mouth to muffle your giggle.

how adorable. you have grown to tolerate, and even adore, his snoring.

stolen kisses on his bruised knuckles, tiny and featherlight, apologetic most of all. their bad condition brought upon by boxing worsened when he used his dominant hand bare, knuckles of his two longest fingers ripped. it seems that he did the bare minimum by putting a stop to the bleeding then washing them clean, then nothing else. he didn’t even tell you, didn’t complain or show any sign that he was in pain.

you hold the cold compress over his bruises, switching between his cheek and knuckles, mindful of not touching the wounds as to not aggravate him in his sleep.

you’ve been stripped down bare— your pride and dignity dismantled into pieces that create a picture of you that you do not like… but could be the love and sincerity in your heart be enough to live by? even if no one is awake to witness it?

you’re saved from drowning in your thoughts by the front door being unlocked. for the second time, you tiptoe your way out of jungkook’s bedroom.

“this is for wounds, and then…” jimin returns the tube inside the paper bag to grab the other. “this one, for bruises.”

“thank you. i’ll pay you back.”

“yah!” jimin expands his eyes threateningly, which you mimic in challenge as you hug the paper bag to your chest. “i’m also your older brother, okay? i should do these things for you.”

you scrunch your nose, to express disagreement at first, but later on it only makes your smile appear brighter.

“doesn’t it hurt you to smile? please use them well too, ____. do you understand? that’s why i bought the biggest ones!”

it does hurt.

“thank you…” you reply shyly.

you’ve forgotten how it feels like to be taken care of by family.

—

“baby, where did you go?”

jungkook’s raspy voice is music to your ears.

he woke up a mere minute ago, caught in the middle of sitting up on the bed once it caught up to his sleep-muddled brain that you’re no longer beside him.

“nowhere,”

you sit at the edge of the bed without another word, putting his hands over your lap to apply the healing cream to his afflictions.

his eyelids flutter in sleepiness as he watches your every movement.

a small dollop at the pad of your finger, transferred over his torn knuckle and smeared with the lightest of touch. occasionally your finger pauses, unsure, calculating— the last thing it wants is to hurt him.

he kisses your lips— he feels suspended in time—hasn’t quite reconnected with reality and with his body. wide-eyed, you seem taken aback by the display of affection. his mouth then softly curves with fondness.

“i love you.”

“i love you, too.” you whisper timidly.

your actions have become hurried, but jungkook is far too drowsy to notice your discomfort.

for the final part, you rub the cream on the bruise on his cheek. you press a kiss on the corner of his lips. “all done. go back to sleep.”

“let’s go,”

he hooks his arm under your knees, eager to carry you over to your side of the bed, but he gets interrupted by your protest.

“wait, wait, wait- i need to pee first.”

“wha- hurry!” he complains with a peeved frown, which you fail to catch a glimpse of because he has squeezed you taut against his body. “i won’t be able to sleep without you here.”

—

eternally cursed with the ability to feel too much of everything.

you push your back against the bathroom door, breathing heavy and labored as you blindly pat around for its lock. the click serves as the cue for your salty tears to drip from the edges of your eyelashes, cascading down, down, down your chin. some of them crash on the collar of your pajama top, the rest on the white tiled floor. this room is a stranger to your shipwreck, but old habits die hard.

the intense pressure of the water collides with the porcelain sink. rain and thunder and the gusts of wind being your gasps for air. an isolated storm undetected in the city of seoul you’re forced to brave alone, on the floor, tucked into yourself to protect the beating sacredness inside your ribcage. the sobs claw their way up your throat rather than soaring like exhales do.

no one has ever raised their hand at you. not even your parents. not even when you broke your grandmother’s precious china, or lost their big paper bills to the wind, or cursed at them for embarrassing you infront of your friends.

you want to be mad and say that juwon deserved what he got. you want to say that you hope his nose is broken. but you don’t know how one is supposed to react when something like that happens. you don’t know if it justifies everything after that. if the roles were reversed and you slapped him, won’t no one bat an eye?

…and you know jungkook has questions you still haven’t figured out how to answer. you know he now has reasons to doubt you. you know in his eyes, you may now be a hypocrite and not the advocate he adored. these days, you don’t really want to be seen as anything less or more than who you are, but you so desperately wish to be someone he is proud to love.

you feel mocked for even daring to dream of it.

“i’m tired, i’m tired, i’m tired.”

incoherent mumbles further stirs the unbridled chaos.

“i’m so sick of this. why… why do bad things keep happening to me?”

you don’t expect an answer but you yearn for some sort of meaning. you don’t mind suffering but you wish it could only be to an extent where you don’t have to fear.

echoes of rumbles and thunder. you’re nearer the sky but farther from heaven.

—

it’s been more than a week. you’ve been waking up with a gaping hole in the middle of your torso. you climb out of bed, cover up your cheek with make-up, good as new, and go about your day as if nothing happened. life on its own is already too much of a burden for you.

jungkook checks up on you everyday, though, despite his busy schedule. mostly through the phone, and whenever he can, he goes straight to where you are after work to dote on you no matter the time. he kisses you on the cheek, claims himself to have healing properties, and says i love you. and during those periods of time you were together, he hasn’t said another word about the incident. and it has been driving you absolutely insane.

you glance down at him, sat on the floor with an ipad balanced on top of his propped up knees, wearing one of your anti-radiation glasses as he finds himself absorbed in drawing the view a foot away from him. you.

“why do you keep looking at me?” he scolds you lightheartedly. “go back to studying so we can go to sleep.”

“can’t help it,” you mumble as you reposition your pen over the paper. you’ve been reorganizing your notes the whole night for your upcoming tests, but your mind keeps flying everywhere else. “my boyfriend’s too pretty.”

“ah, it can’t be helped then. sorry about that.” he smirks cockily, pulling the dramatics by switching his eyes between you and his back. “should… should i turn around then?”

“did you box again?”

the accusation is spat out before you can think twice.

“oh, you did. your knuckles are all messed up again.”

he pouts, crossing his legs. “but baby, i have to train... i wrapped my hands properly!”

“still,” you sigh. “can’t you just let them heal for a little while?”

you turn to the cabinet on your other side to bring out the pouch of healing ointments you’re now suspecting he brought and didn’t accidentally leave behind.

you lay out your hand, and jungkook puts his on top of yours, dragging himself close.

you both smile when you see that he has laid his hands over your thighs like he’s getting a manicure. silly boy. you pull them closer by his fingers so you can reach his red knuckles.

“why are you trying so hard?”

your finger is stained with his blood. your voice is as gentle as your touches, and that’s why it hurts.

jungkook doesn’t know either. he’s been trying to extinguish his leftover anger and bitterness through work and boxing— suppressing the onslaught of negative thoughts threatening to poison what the two of you have. jungkook doesn’t want to know. he doesn’t want anything to change. right now, he can’t afford them to.

“there’s no one to fight.”

“turns out there is,” he argues.

he regrets it as soon as your hand trembles.

“it’s okay… to ask. we’re in a relationship. you’re entitled to know things like that.” your eyes are unafraid again, and it scares him, like you’re always prepared to let him go. “i won’t get offended, or anything like that. if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“i trust you,” he says simply. “so i don’t need to know. especially if talking about it makes you uncomfortable. it’s okay… we’re okay, baby.”

stillness washes over the room like a tide that swallows everything up, and for a moment jungkook is convinced that the two of you will never bring it up again.

but the words you utter next are a punch to the gut.

they almost sound like a plead.

“but i can’t live my life that way, jungkook.”

strands of your hair descend to your face, framing it perfectly, but your eyes become hidden from view. you rip a bandaid open and blanket it over his two knuckles, still wounded as before, if not worse.

“if you intend to be with me for a long time, then i need you to need to know…” because there will be things i’d want to tell you, but wouldn’t feel the need to.

“then tell me,” he replies, prompted by a renewed determination. “i don’t just intend to be with you for a long time. i want way more than that.”

—

jungkook fiddles with the hello kitty bandaid using his thumb, mind reeling and grappling to process the overload of information told by your storytelling voice. all of a sudden, he’s grateful that you decided to lie down on the bed for this conversation.

“juwon was your boyfriend before me, no?”

“no, no, no. he was…” your lips part as if you have something more left to say, but you eventually give up. “yup, no.”

“so you found out that he’s been cheating on you for-for two mo-”

“three-”

“three months, and you…” he blinks. “slept with a stranger and let him catch you?”

“i was really petty. i was seventeen after all… my pride couldn’t take it. my friends- they tried to stop me but… but all i could think of was how to make him feel the way i was feeling.” your voice sounds small, smaller as you squeeze yourself into his side and curl up to hide your face. “so i let him think i was the bad guy.”

he understands that you were vengeful, but he doesn’t know if you comprehend the scale of what you have done.

“he looked so sad and hurt that i started to feel guilty. i don’t know if i was still acting when i was apologizing to him.” you scoff with eyebrows knitted together. “i felt so dirty… i still feel like a bad person, you know?”

you took the face of juwon’s demons and he didn’t like what he saw.

“i had it coming,” — he now has a grasp of what you meant before.

“so how has he been doing this to me for such a long time? how does he stomach it? knowing what i was going through? that’s what i thought… it makes me so upset…”

jungkook doesn’t try to assess you as you speak. he only listens, until your voice cracks. his heart is split into two as tears flood your eyes, escaping past the corners and slipping down to soak the fabric of his t-shirt.

you sniffle. “and the sex wasn’t even that great. i regret it even more.”

he flinches, abruptly squeezing his eyes shut. not that great? okay… okay. the mental image of you being physically intimate with someone that isn’t him definitely doesn’t sicken him to his core. at all. nope, nope, nope.

“fuck, baby, please,” he groans as if he is in pain, putting an arm over his eyes. “hearing about you have sex with other guys is making me want to punch something again. fuck.”

“that’s what you took away from the story?”

“yes!” he exclaims with conviction. “we should’ve met a year earlier. i would’ve let you use me!”

you gasp, scandalized. “oh my god! jungkook!”

“argh-” he animatedly clutches at his chest that caught your fist.

“you’re crazy!”

“uhuh, about you.” he proudly replies, pulling you closer to his side, as if that was still possible.

the subtle upwards of the corners of your lips gives him a sense of relief. he tenderly cups your cheek, his thumb ghosting over the bruise that has turned a darker shade of blue and purple.

“listen to me, i- i’m not here to tell you what’s right or wrong. i’m not that type of person. but what i can do tell you is that this…” he briefly shakes his head. “didn’t change the way i see you at all. he hurt you. he cheated and you were hurt, ____.”

your eyes gleam with uncertainty, a fresh wave of tears threatening to escape. “are you sure?”

“of course i am. why wouldn’t i be sure?”

“because you’re crazy about me.”

the sweet innocence of your eyelashes fluttering elicits a chuckle from him. you’re so fucking cute.

“that’s the reason i’m sure.” he tilts up your chin to plant a kiss to your lips, mumbling. “i’ve never been wrong about anything i’m crazy about.”

“thank you,” you say quietly, melting into his embrace. you nuzzle your face against his chest, and at last, you grant your eyes rest. “i can finally sleep peacefully again.”

fuck, it’s been weighing on you this whole time and he didn’t know.

“i’m sorry i only dated assholes before you.”

“aish, why would you be sorry about such a thing?” he kisses the top of your head, gentleness contradicting his following sentence. “i’d crush each one of those assholes for you.”

and he’d beat himself up the worst if he ever becomes one of them.

you yawn, sniffling right after. “mhm, i bet you will.”

he carefully rolls over to the side so he can wrap both arms around you, and you keen in contentment.

“jungkook?”

“yes, baby?” he coos.

“i… really… love you so, so, so much. you are… the one person i’d die for before i hurt.”

goddammit, it’s an angel sleeping in his arms.

“that’s a relief to hear. you’re very smart and scary when you’re mad.”

“eh, jungkook! i swear i’ve grown up! i’m not like that anymore!”

“okay, okay!” he laughs at your childish whining and squirming as he ushers you back in his embrace. “i believe you! i trust you! i love you too!”

—

although you spend more nights together in your apartment for your safety and convenience, in all honesty, you like staying over at jungkook’s more. his smell evokes the sentiment of home, and when you stay long enough, it becomes a temporary part of you. you’re gradually more well-versed in the organized and unorganized corners of his room. you like that you know where he keeps the safety pins and you know to be careful when walking so you won’t trip over his dumbbells he leaves lying around. and it’s a little ridiculous but… you like that his mattress is on the floor and you don’t really know why.

your boyfriend is still blissfully asleep as you climb over him, landing on the floor without a sound like a veteran spy. however, you rush to step out of the room before the rumbling of your empty stomach could wake him up.

“yah, thief! what do you think you’re doing?!”

“fuck!” the pack of ramen hits the floor when your hands fly to your chest to clutch at your painfully pounding heart. “i swear to god, you’re going to kill me one day!”

and unsurprisingly, your chagrin is countered yet again with jimin’s all too pleased laughter.

“____, you look so suspicious! why are you using a flashlight? we have electricity! we can pay for it!”

“i don’t like it too bright, okay?” you grumble as you pick up your supposed midnight meal.

“let’s just turn on this one then.”

“uh-” the objection dies down in your throat when the light over the dining table was switched on.

“i’m hungry, too. grab two more packs of ramyeon, please.”

“who’s the other one for?”

jimin fills the pot with water from the sink while you pick up two more of the same pack from the pantry.

“just us. don’t you agree that one pack is too small for one person?”

“it’s just enough for me though?” you rip open the packs one by one to retrieve the packets of seasonings. “with your job, though, i’d definitely have a bigger appetite.”

“alright,” he pouts, pretending to be upset. “let’s have just two then.”

“no, no, no-” you chase his hand, tightly gripping the last pack that he stole. “let’s have three! let’s have three! i didn’t eat dinner!”

—

“my mom brought a lot of kimchi yesterday. there’s an entire box in the fridge. i’ll pack you some before you leave later.”

“put some more in,” you say cutely as you peer down at the pot of ramen beside jimin. “please?”

he chuckles, adhering to your request before handing the container to you.

“thank you!”

you hop on the counter infront of the stove, chewing on a mouthful of kimchi with a joy akin to a child receiving a sweet treat. leaving the ramen to cook for the next five minutes, jimin sits a few feet away.

“aigoo, are you that hungry?”

“this is so delicious!” you praise his mother’s cooking instead of answering the question. “i can really eat this on its own.”

“ey, don’t fill yourself up yet! we have a lot of ramyeon to eat!”

“sorry, sorry!”

your giggles fill the apartment with warmth during this freezing winter. jimin didn’t doubt it when jungkook said that you light up every room you enter, he just didn’t expect that he would also gain a friend.

“how’s your cheek?”

“as you can see,” you motion at your face. “yellow. soooo… uglier.”

“that means it’s healing well.”

“i know,” the apples of your cheek become plump as your lips curve. “it no longer hurts to smile.”

“that’s a relief to hear,” he returns your kind smile. “jungkook has been worried about you.”

that’s the end of what he can tell you. jungkook won’t be pleased if you learn that he cried when he talked about the horrible thing that happened to you.

“thank you,”

“huh? for what?”

“being jungkook’s happiness.”

from his peripheral vision, he perceives your surprise. however, he is too flustered to meet your eyes while he is speaking from the bottom of his heart.

“the past year was physically and mentally draining for the team. as you know, we… we were considering giving up and disbanding. and of course it’s hard on all of us, but i’m really, really worried about jungkook. but!”

he chuckles at the dramatic rise of his own voice.

“i’m less worried now that you’re in his life. and i’m not saying this to put pressure on you or anything! but you see, when he’s tired, he bounces back quickly because of you. he’s smiling more because of you. and i know it goes it also goes the other way around. mhmm… i-i guess what i’m saying is that i hope you can continue being each other’s strength? be each other’s cheerleader?”

you have begun to feel emotional as you listened to his sincere and heartwarming words, but you can’t help but to cackle at the fact that you just witnessed the park jimin say the word ‘cheerleader’ while daintily waving his hands around as they were holding pompoms. how awfully endearing.

“…or something like that.”

uncontrollable giggles vibrate his body, dramatically slipping down the counter and onto the tiled floor to enshroud himself in extreme sheepishness.

“ah, ____! this is driving me crazy! don’t laugh!”

“what are you doing lying on the floor?” you playfully scold him, recording with your phone in secret. “why do i suddenly feel like the older one?”

“what’s with the noise?”

you whip your head around, wide curious eyes greeted with a shirtless jungkook who is still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“is that ramyeon…? i want some too.”

jimin groans when he feels your foot poke him lightly.

“mister, can we add more? my googie is hungry too.”

—

“hyung, ____ told me something recently that really put a lot of things into perspective.”

and with that, jimin pours another bottle of beer in his and jungkook’s ice-filled mugs. “let me hear it.”

“if you intend to be with me for a long time, then i need you to need to know. at first i didn’t understand what it meant? then after we talked, something clicked for me. ahhh, i see it now. ____ didn’t want us to trust each other blindly… because that… that isn’t a good… foundation? for something that i want to last for a very long time. you, me, the members… don’t we all trust each other because we know that we’re good people to our core and we’re good at what we do? isn’t that why we have come this far, and why we keep going? besides army, of course!”

jimin blinks lazily, glossy eyes from the alcohol underneath it all. “that’s right. we wouldn’t have started this anyway… without that kind of trust. i don’t think it’s a connection you can just build with anyone too.”

“oh, that’s it. that’s right!”

“living together for a long time doesn’t guarantee it.”

“exactly.” jungkook nods repeatedly, probably too passionately, a guaranteed ticket for a hangover later on. “we talked about that last time too.”

“right? so we should protect it… maintain it… never lose sight of our purpose…”

the lack of words that follow does not equate to silence. glasses clink against each other and teeth rip bags of chips open and noodles are slurped. they’re overseas and they can’t go to a korean restaurant and grill their own meat. the hotel steak would take forever to arrive and quite frankly, they had it yesterday and it was not good. this is not exactly ideal, but it has its own charm.

jungkook takes another swig of the bittersweet alcohol, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand afterwards.

“____ has become an important part of my life that i would do anything to protect too. how do i say it…?” he exhales to relieve the heavy weight on his chest. “i feel like i gained more purpose in life, hyung… to be honest, i might have a harder time because of that. i know it but… i’m happy. seriously, i’m happy.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook one shot #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook smut

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gyeomsweetgyeom · 4 months ago

Text

[9:16 am]

(cw: course language)

Dating Jeno was like a dream. You knew it was early, 2 months to be exact, but you were fairly certain he was the best man ever. He was sweet, thoughtful, he listened, he was funny, and he was handsome. He took you on dates that you could tell he put effort into, he gave you gifts just because he was “thinking about you,” and got you flowers weekly. What wasn’t to like about him?

You had just seen him the night before, he had invited you over to his so he could cook for you. His excuse was that he’d been wanting to try out a recipe, but it was too much for one person. He’d listened to you talk all night about your annoying boss and how she went on and on about anything under the sun. She made it impossible to make or take calls with her roaming the floor and talking. She tried too hard to be friends with her employees.

He had had glimpses of her before when he came by to pick you up for lunch or picked you up from work. She was always the first one to the door, twirling her hair and batting her lashes. She tried flirting and didn’t even try to hide her frown when he greeted you with a kiss on the cheek.

“And I saw that little boy toy of yours yesterday! He was out and about during lunch yesterday and we had lunch together! You’re not mad right? According to what I’ve heard he’s not your boyfriend yet…” you heard her annoying voice, but she wasn’t talking to you, right?

You turned in your desk chair, “are you talking to me?”

“Yes! Jeno, your little boy toy! He’s a real cutie, a real gentleman. I can totally see what’s so attractive about him. We sat and talked together and got carried away. I was almost late,” she laughs.

You give her a fake laugh, claiming you have work to get back to while turning to face the computer screen. Instead of working, you mull over her words. On one hand yes, you and Jeno weren’t official or exclusive in the fact that you hadn’t discussed it, but you had assumed you were. There was also the fact that when you asked him about his lunch he had been very short and moved on as if it were nothing.

Had there been signs that you missed before? Were there moments that they shared when you weren’t around? Were there hidden moments? God, this was putting you in a downward spiral.

She was still stood near you when you heard an unfamiliar male voice. “Uhhhh, flowers from Jeno?” He asked.

As you moved to identify yourself, your boss squealed, reaching for the flowers. She pulled the card from bouquet and began to read out loud, “I had the greatest time seeing you yesterday. I can’t wait to spend more time with you. Love, Jeno. He’s so sweet! So sorry you had to find out this way, but I need to go put these in some light. Get back to work.”

The rest of your day was awful. Maybe he had sent those to her. Maybe he liked her more than you. Maybe he was two-timing you.

From there your anger grew and grew. Her voice was like nails on a chalkboard. His texts made your anger boil and bubble inside you to the point where once you saw him standing alone in the lobby of your workplace you walked right past him.

“Hey! Wait- hey, where are you going?” You heard Jeno’s voice as he followed after you.

You turned, your voice cold while your emotions were heated, “if you liked my boss you could have just said that instead of stringing me along. I know we never talked about being closed off, but at the very least I deserved to know you were seeing another person inside my office!”

He held his hands up, as if in surrender, “I don’t- I’m not seeing anyone but you. Can we talk about this?”

You groaned, running a had over your hair in frustration. You exhaled, calming your feelings, “my boss came in this morning and told me that you guys had lunch together. That you were such a gentleman and she totally gets what I see in you and that you spent the whole lunch talking and getting to know each other.” Your voice breaks as you keep explaining, “and then flowers were delivered that said you enjoyed your time with her yesterday. It’s just- I wish you had just told me.” You loon away from him as your eyes fill with tears and you desperately try to blink them back.

Jeno gives you your time to breathe and cool off before he speaks. “Babe, I didn’t get lunch with your boss. I happened to be at the same spot for lunch to pick up my order and while I was leaving she walked in. We did that whole awkward stepping the same way over and over again, and I greeted her just to be polite. I asked her how she was, but I didn’t have lunch with her. I don’t like her, she makes me feel weird and gross when she talks to me and I think she’s the same age as my mom, that or she has really bad work done.” You laugh at that and he smiles explaining even more, “the flowers were for you, babe. I have the receipt, it has your name on it as the recipient. They were supposed to be your weekly bouquet and that’s why the note says what it said. I don’t want to spend time getting to know anyone but you.”

“God, I hate that bitch. I’m sorry I assumed,” you exhale deeply, feeling an immense weight off your shoulders.

He pulls you into his chest for a hug, rubbing a hand up and down your back, “it was an unfortunate mess of coincidences mixed with delusion from your crazy ass boss. It’s the last time I’ll use a delivery service too, all your flowers are coming right from me.”

“You still want me after I made that horrible assumption?” You ask with a playful tone, but the nerves in your stomach have yet to calm down.

Jeno smirks, tsking nonchalantly, “if anything, I want you more. Something about you getting jealous, a little possessive, that’s hot.”

You shove him lightly, leaving him behind as you begin walking home again. You can hear him laughing and his steps as he runs to catch up to you. His arm wraps around your shoulders and he presses a kiss to your temple while you both dodge the other people trying to get home. He takes your bag off your shoulder and smiles at you warmly, “I didn’t think we really had to talk about it, but in all seriousness I do like you a lot. I don’t want to see anyone but you.”

“I like you a lot too,” you smile back, “so what? You’re like my boyfriend now?”

“Nothing would make me happier, and you should report your boss to HR. She’s a total bitch.”

#kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #nct #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct timestamps #nct x reader #nct dream #nct dream imagines #nct dream fluff #jeno imagines #jeno x reader #jeno fluff #jeno drabbles #jeno timestamps

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0omillo0 · 3 months ago

Text

HAN JISUNG X FEM! READER

Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

a/n: I really like how this one came out!! please let me know if you liked it too! ᡣ𐭩

Warnings: Panic attack, Miscommunication, Emotional distress

Summary: A misunderstanding leads to heartbreak, but sometimes love can heal even the deepest wounds.

𝜗𝜚

Jisung had been working tirelessly for weeks on his music, and you could see how much pressure he was under. You wanted to do something special for him—something that would not only surprise him but remind him how much he meant to you. For your anniversary, you came up with an idea: you'd record yourself singing one of his favorite songs, “bad” by wave to earth, and reorganize his messy music files while you were at it.

You spent hours preparing everything, perfecting your voice, and carefully categorizing his music. Then, you left a little note at the end of the recording, telling him to check the closet for his anniversary gift—a brand-new guitar you knew he’d been eyeing for months. It was meant to be a beautiful surprise.

When Jisung came home that evening, you were sitting by his computer, making the final tweaks to his project. His face was a mix of surprise and confusion.

“What are you doing on MY computer?” he asked, his tone sharper than you expected.

You smiled, excited to reveal your surprise. “I was working on something for you. I—”

Before you could finish, he had pushed past you, eyes scanning the screen. His face contorted in panic.

“Where’s my work? What did you do?” he asked, voice rising.

You blinked, taken aback by his sudden shift. “I just reorganized it a little. Everything’s still there—”

“Reorganized?!” Jisung cut you off, not even listening to the last sentence, his voice now full of anger. “You deleted everything, didn’t you?! Why would you touch my stuff without asking?! You just made my day even worse thank you.”

His words cut deep. You tried to explain, but the words got stuck in your throat. Tears welled up in your eyes as he continued to lash out, too blinded by panic to see the hurt written all over your face.

Finally, unable to bear it anymore, you grabbed your things and rushed out of the house, sobbing. Before leaving you yelled a “Well then maybe you’ll be happier without me, Jisung. Have a good life we’re- we’re done.” Jisung didn’t stop you.

You needed to get away, needed to breathe. Without thinking, you found yourself at Minho’s apartment. He was your best friend, someone who had always been there when you needed him. The moment he opened the door, he didn’t need to ask. He pulled you into a tight hug, letting you cry into his shoulder.

---

Back at home, Jisung sat in silence, the weight of his words hanging in the air. His chest felt tight, and something gnawed at him. He knew he overreacted, but in the heat of the moment, all he saw was chaos where he expected order.

With trembling hands, he went back to his computer, hoping—no, praying—that you hadn’t deleted everything. As he clicked through the files, he realized that you hadn’t deleted a single thing. Everything was still there, neatly organized, far better than how he had left it.

And then he saw it.

A file titled “Happy Anniversary.” Confused, he clicked on it, and your voice filled the room. You were singing “bad,” and it was beautiful. He had no idea you could sing like that. By the end of the recording, his chest ached.

And then your voice—soft, almost hesitant—spoke up.

“Jisung, I hope you liked my surprise. I wanted to help you organize everything because I know you’ve been so stressed. There’s one more surprise—look in the closet. Happy anniversary, babe. I love you.”

His heart dropped. He even forgot your anniversary. He scrambled to the closet, yanking it open to find the brand-new guitar, complete with a handwritten letter.

As he read the words you had so carefully written, guilt consumed him. His hands shook, his breathing shallow. He sank to the floor, panic seizing his chest. His phone slipped from his hands as he tried to call you, to text you, but you didn’t answer.

Please Y/N… Please babe answer me… I’m so sorry…

---

At Minho’s apartment, you had finally cried yourself to sleep. Minho, ever the protective friend, watched over you for a while before noticing your phone buzzing endlessly. Seeing Jisung’s name flashing across the screen, he sighed and decided to call him.

“Minho…” Jisung’s voice was hoarse on the other end, barely above a whisper.

“What happened, Jisung?” Minho asked, his tone calm but firm.

“I—I messed up. I thought she deleted my work, but she didn’t. She was trying to help, and I… I yelled at her,” Jisung confessed, his voice breaking. “I’ve been calling her, but she won’t answer. I don’t know what to do.”

Minho glanced at you, asleep on his couch, your tear-streaked face a testament to the pain Jisung had caused. He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Listen, Jisung. Calm down. She’s here, and she’s hurting. You really messed up, but I think you already know that,” Minho said quietly. “I’m leaving for the day tomorrow. Maybe when she wakes up, you can try to make things right. But give her space, okay?”

Jisung could only mutter a quiet thank you before the call ended.

---

The next day, you woke up feeling emotionally drained, the events of the previous night weighing heavily on you. Minho had left a note saying he had errands to run and that you could stay as long as you needed.

As you sat on the couch, trying to sort through your emotions, there was a soft knock at the door. Hesitant, you opened it to find Jisung standing there, his face pale, eyes red-rimmed as if he hadn’t slept.

“I—Can I come in?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You stepped aside, not trusting yourself to speak. The air between you felt thick with tension and unspoken words.

Jisung took a deep breath, his eyes filled with regret. “I’m so sorry. I… I overreacted. I thought you deleted my work, and I didn’t even give you a chance to explain. I should have trusted you.” His voice cracked. “I listened to your recording. It was beautiful. And the guitar… I don’t deserve it, or you.”

You blinked back tears, still hurt but softened by the sincerity in his voice.

“I was just trying to help, Jisung,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I wanted to do something nice for you, and you—” Your words caught in your throat as you recalled how he had screamed at you.

“I know,” Jisung said, stepping closer. “I know I hurt you, and I hate myself for it. I had a panic attack after you left because I realized how much I messed up. I love you, and I never want to make you feel like that again.”

The silence stretched between you as you searched his face, trying to decide if you were ready to forgive him. And then, slowly, you nodded, tears falling down your cheeks.

“I love you too, Jisung,” you whispered. “But we can’t keep doing this. You need to trust me. Your words hurt me so bad.”

He reached out, gently pulling you into his arms, holding you close as if he was afraid to let go. “I promise I’ll do better. I’ll trust you. I can’t lose you.”

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still as you held each other. The hurt didn’t vanish, but in that moment, you both knew that love would help you heal, one step at a time.

And maybe, just maybe, you’d come out stronger on the other side.

#han jisung #han jisung x reader #han x reader #han x you #han x y/n #stray kids x y/n #stray kids fluff #straykids angst #han angst #han jisung angst #stray kids comfort #skz x reader #skz #skz angst

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itsbeeble · 1 year ago

Note

I saw your post about having Bang Chan brain rot and honestly, same. He has filled every waking thought I've had for the last year and I'm big mad over it.

So my fic rec is a little angsty/suggestive with him being as obsessed with y/n as we all are with him. Like, he's angry that he can't focus on work because he's too busy thinking about them but can't have them for whatever reason. All the features he possesses that we love that he can't see in himself are exactly what draws him to y/n. (I feel like crushing on Chan is an exercise in learning to love yourself, and that's a lesson he needs to learn as well).

WHY WOULD YOU SAY THIS TO ME I LITERALLY FELL TO THE FLOOR WHEN I FIRST SAW IT (that first statement is so real actually)

OBSESSIVE

Summary: Chan has always been obsessed with you, but he's been too afraid to act on it until now.

Genre: Angst, fluff

Pairing: bestfriend!Bang Chan x (implied)fem!reader

Warnings: a little angsty but mostly fluff, hurt/comfort, suggestive, some uhhh sexual themes but there's no actual smut or anything, small make out scene teehee, swearing, insecurities briefly mentioned, I think that's it

WC: 2462

18+ MDNI, AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

A/N: guys look it didn't take me 10 years to post! Also i'm gonna add to my masterlist a "Brainrot" section bc i'm not officially gonna write for certain groups but fuck do i get brainrot

Chan is restless in his studio, staring at the walls in front of him unable to focus. He can’t get his brain to work, to think, to do something.

It’s your fault. He knows it’s your fault, but he can’t figure out why. Had you said something to him? Had you done something?

No. The answer is no, you hadn’t done anything to him. At least not technically.

In fact, it’s more him that's the problem.

It’s almost unhealthy the way he’s obsessed with you. Unhealthy and almost annoying considering that you hardly ever give him the light of day.

Chan adores you. Adores the way you don’t care about what anyone else thinks of you, the way you laugh too loudly, the way your nose crinkles when you smile, and the way you can hold conversations so easily. He adores the way you never seem to care about looking put together, dressing in whatever you find comfortable that day, and somehow still looking beautiful.

He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this way about anyone before. He hates the swirling in his stomach, the way his heart beats faster, and the way he can always tell when you’re close to him whether you want him to know or not. Chan can always tell from the smell of your perfume, that sweet, subtle scent you’ve worn since the day you met him in your days as trainees.

These emotions…he shouldn’t be feeling them. Not about you, his best friend. His confidant. The one person he can trust to always be there for him, for everything. He’s tried so hard to will these emotions away, to force himself to like other people. He’s tried hookups, blind dates, dating apps. He’s tried imagining it was his grandmother instead of you whenever his thoughts dive into dangerous territory.

And no, the grandmother thoughts didn’t work. His thoughts kept returning to you, how you would look under him. How you would look with your hair splayed out, your hand cupping his cheeks, and your lips sending him the sweet smile that you seem to reserve for him.

Fuck, he’s doing it again.

Chan takes a deep breath, sipping at the day-old water and grimacing at the stale taste in his mouth. His computer screen is still blank, the screen off from the time he’s spent staring into space and thinking of you.

A knock on the door and then you’re slipping in quietly with a plastic go-cup filled with iced coffee.

“Hey.”

Your greeting is simple, but you flash that smile and Chan’s heart starts doing flips. He hates it. He hates that you make him feel this way, hates that he gets nervous whenever you’re around.

He feels you at his side, your arm on the back of his chair, fingertips brushing against his shoulder and sending jolts of electricity down his spine. He turns his head, angling his neck to look up at you.

You with your calm eyes, with your gentle brushes against his skin, and the way you somehow soothe the storm that you caused inside of him.

The cup in your hand is angled toward him, and he shakes his head.

“You shouldn’t be drinking that, you know,” it’s almost instinctive how he scolds you, a frown on his face when you just roll your eyes and pull the cup away from him. “Especially right now. You should be asleep, Y/N.”

“So should you,” you hum, rolling your shoulders back and wincing when something cracks.

“I’m working.” He nods his head at the computer, and you raise an eyebrow at the black screen.

“I can see that. Working very hard, just like you always are.”

Your hand raises to his head, ruffling the soft strands of hair. Chan clicks his tongue and pulls away from you. Your hand drops down to your side, and your small drops slightly. Barely noticeable, but enough for Chan to feel a pang in his chest. He rolls his chair back slightly, spinning it to face you. You pull a chair up, sitting directly across from him, and delicately place your coffee in an empty space on his crowded desk.

Chan feels your knees brush against his, and heat scorches his body again. Why do you do this to him? Is it on purpose? Do you know he loves you more than a best friend should?

“Are you okay, Channie?” You lean toward him, the open part of your button-down shirt dipping to expose more skin. You would think he’s never been around a woman before.

He clears his throat, tries to look at you, and then clears his throat again. You’re biting at your lip now your eyebrows furrowed together in thought.

He leans away from you when you lean toward him. Your knees are between his thighs now, unbeknownst to you but he is all too aware of it. You rise from your chair, coming closer to him and standing between his legs. One of his hands twitches, fighting to raise just a little bit to touch the side of your leg.

“You seem a little feverish,” your hand is cold against his skin, and he almost chokes on the air he’d been struggling to inhale without the sweet scent of you overpowering his lungs and making him do unthinkable things. Your lips are twisted into a pout, your hand moving to his forehead and then his cheek.

It takes Chan a moment to realize that he’s grabbed your wrist.

It takes another moment for him to realize that his lips are against the back of your hand.

Another moment and you haven’t pushed him away. Is it shock? Are you too disgusted to do anything? Fuck, why did he have to do that?

“Y/N—” he’s stumbling over his words, trying to grasp any thought that runs through his brain. An apology, hopefully. “I’m so— I didn’t mean—”

Your lips are on his before he can say another word. It was a quick, fleeting kiss. Heat of the moment, maybe.

You pull back, just far enough to look him in the eyes.

Chan opens his mouth, ready to speak again.

The door slams shut. The space you stood in is empty. Chan’s heart sinks to his stomach, his skin still warm where you touched him.

“Fuck”

It’s three days before Chan hears from or sees you. Three days of absolute radio silence. No one forcing him to stop working, to look away from the screen and lay on the couch for a while. No wild laughter, random coffee dates. Nothing, and he knows why.

He knows you’ve been avoiding him. It’s not that difficult to figure it out. Whatever happened that night…it scared both of you. What frustrates him isn’t the subtle rejection. No, he could never be mad at you for that. He loves you too much to be angry about that.

No, he’s mad about the fact that you’re running from this. You who regularly gets into heated arguments with the staff when they’re working him and the other members too hard. You who always accepts when you’re in the wrong, actively seeking a solution. You who has never had problems with communicating your emotions. He’s angry that the one time he needs you to communicate with him, you disappear. Now, after three days of you avoiding him, he isn’t quite sure he wants to see you anymore. He wouldn’t have minded if you told him you hated him for what happened.

Radio silence is…quite possibly the last thing he expected.

A knock on his door jolts him out of his thoughts. Three raps, then two, and the door opens. He knows it’s you by the shuffling of your feet against the ground and the sound of ice against plastic. You come to stand near him. Not next to him, no, it’s like you can sense the anger in him.

Or you can hear the angry typing.

“What are you working on?” Your voice is quiet, so quiet that he almost doesn’t catch it.

He doesn’t respond, at least not at first. The typing doesn’t slow, and he hears a small exhale from you.

“Chan?” Your hand comes to rest on his shoulder and the typing stops. You drop your hand to your side, biting your tongue and forcing the tears back. “Channie, can you please talk to me?” He turns to look at you, trying to hold back all of the emotions he’s been feeling these past three days.

“About what?” He plays dumb. Maybe if he acts like nothing happened, you’ll just drop it and you can start avoiding each other and he can move on from you.

“About…about what happened.” Your voice shakes, and he almost feels bad.

Scratch that, he does feel bad.

“I don’t think there’s much to talk about.” Chan dismisses, “You made it clear how you feel and that’s fine. We can forget about it.” He avoids your gaze now, but he hears a sniffle coming from you. Hears a sob that you made a poor attempt at concealing. He looks at you again, and your hand is over your mouth while you try to calm yourself. He bites the side of his tongue, closing his eyes and exhaling heavily.

“Come here,” he raises his hand and lazily beckons you over to him. You don’t move at first, still focused on calming yourself. “Y/N, come here.”

Your steps are slow, almost nervous about approaching him, and suddenly all the anger is washed away from Chan’s body. All he can think about is the fact that he’s made you cry, made you upset, and he wants to fix it.

“Why are you crying, pretty?” You’re standing in front of him, all too similarly to three days ago. Your cup has been placed to the side again, next to his keyboard, and your hands are in his.

“I feel like…” your voice is thick with emotion, tears rolling down your cheeks that Chan wants nothing more than to kiss away. “I feel like I messed everything up.”

“How could you possibly think that?” Your best friend frowns.

“I— I kissed you.” Your sentences are stuttered. “I fe—feel like I me—messed everyth—everything up. You— You’re my bes—best friend, Channie.”

“Look at me,” he holds his hand to your chin, tilting your head to look down at him. “You did nothing wrong. In case you forgot, I kissed you first.”

“But that was diffe—different!” You cry, yanking your hands out of his grip and turning your back on him. Chan rises from his chair, carefully watching your movements. “I kissed you!”

He’s curious now. “Do you think I hate you because of that?”

You turn around, and a gasp escapes you. He’s only a few inches from you, his breath kissing your cheeks. You can see a dark tinge on his tanned skin. Was he blushing? Was he mad?

“I— I mean—” Chan steps toward you again, practically backing you into the wall.

“Because you’d be wrong,” he continues. “In fact, it’s probably made me even worse.”

What? “Chan— what does that—”

“I’ve been obsessed with you from the day that I met you, Y/N.” Here goes nothing. Chan takes a deep breath before continuing. “Everything you do, everything you say. I’m addicted to you. You know, I couldn’t tell at first if I envied you. It was the way you carried yourself, the confidence you had in every little thing. The way you fought so hard for the things that you loved and the people you cared about. I thought I envied the way you could laugh as loud as you wanted without fearing what other people thought of you.”

You’re against the wall now, but he hasn’t caged you in. No, he leaves you room to escape should you so choose. Your tears have stopped and Chan reaches up to cup your cheeks, wiping away the streaks that were left.

“I was wrong.” His voice is so quiet, so much quieter than he probably intended it to be, but it has a zoo erupting in your stomach. “It wasn’t envy.”

“Then what was it?” Your voice matches his in volume, your eyes flicking from his lips and back up to meet his gaze. He takes a deep breath, relishing in the feeling of your cold hands twisting into the fabric of his shirt, your knuckles brushing against the skin of his stomach. “Channie?”

The way you said his name should’ve been innocent. It should have just grabbed his attention, snapped him out of the spell you’ve cast on him.

The air is knocked out of your chest at the first touch of his lips on yours. It isn’t rough, not by any means.

His lips move smoothly against yours, slow and sure of every move he wants to make as if he’s always going to be two steps ahead of you. One of his hands slides down to cup the back of your head, right at the base to allow him to angle your head and pull your body closer to his. Your hands have tightened into his cotton t-shirt, holding so tightly you’re positive the fabric has stretched.

Your chest is on fire, whether from lack of breath or the emotions running through you like wildfire, you aren’t sure, but you don’t want to stop. You can’t stop. Not when he tastes so good, not when he’s kissing you like there’s nothing else he’d rather be doing.

A whine escapes you, and you feel his body go rigid. His lips stop moving, and he pulls back from you. You see his chest stuttering as he tries to stop himself from taking deep breaths. He doesn’t say anything, and neither do you for a long time.

You don’t have to, though. The drawings he traces into your hip with his finger and the hazy, starstruck look in his eye says enough.

His eyes meet yours when you clear your throat to get his attention.

“So,” your voice is slightly hoarse but you can’t find yourself caring. Not in front of Chan. “You never answered my question.” He bends down, his lips lightly pressing into the skin of your neck. Your breathing hitches, and you feel him smile against you.

“What question was that?” He asks, and his voice is right in your ear, and you can’t help but pull him closer to you.

“What was it that you felt?”

He just laughs against you, finally taking his hand out of your hair.

“You know what it was, pretty. Don’t pretend.”

You smile, your arm coming to wrap around the back of his neck.

Love. It was love, and you knew it the whole time.

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hitomisuzuya · 1 year ago

Note

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! :3

can i request more smut scummy scara? it's just but a litttllle while and i really like it a lot, ><

Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Scaramouche receiving. Scummy Scara. Degradation. Fingering. Masturbation. Scaramouche giving.

I really like Scummy Scara to. This is a continuation of a request that I massively messed up and pressed post too early😭

There was a week where you had to be away from him on a family trip. For 7 days you promised him you would let him command you on how to touch yourself on a video call.

Scaramouche had spent endless hours jacking himself off to the sight of the videos he'd recorded. And now that you were back, you would be sucking him off underneath his desk while he watched the videos.

One cumshot down your throat for everyday. And he did all this in one day. He would've commanded you to touch yourself while you sucked him off, but he couldn't watch you and the screen at the same time as much as he wished you could.

He was almost through day 1. Your lips were wrapped around his cock while he watched you finger and rub your cunt on his command. How you followed his instructions to the letter made his cock throb in your mouth.

You choked on his cock when he wanted you to. You choked on his cock when he told you to. He would degrade you in between husky moans. "Take all of my cum, you slut," He groaned as cum spilled out of your mouth and down your throat.

Days 4 and 5 were his very favorite. You used a labia spreader he bought you specifically for this trip, keeping the lips of your cunt spread apart, giving him a mouth watering view as you thrust your fingers wetly inside yourself.

Your legs were trembling as you cried out for him, babbling about how you wished it was fingers inside of you. These videos were only two you didn't suck him off during.

He put you in his lap, sitting facing the computer screen. Spreading your legs, he fingered you to see if he could make you cum at the same time as you did in the videos. "Look at what a beautiful, pathetic slut you are, crying and begging for my fingers to be stuffed in your whore cunt."

When you squirted on his fingers, writhing in his lap, he pushed them into your mouth. Making you choke on them, his fingers found your clit to rub and overstimulate you.

Then it was back down on your knees for day six. He couldn't get enough of when you coughed cum and spit onto his stomach and his pelvis.

For day seven, he bent you over his desk, mindlessly thrusting into you, your cries of pleasure sounding almost in sync with yours in the video. He came twice inside of you, his pace never stopping after he's filled you once.

Remember, you only sucked him on Days 1, 2, 3 and 6. You still owed him three more blowjobs. He made you gladly pay up, knowing your throat was going to be sore for awhile.

Scaramouche always fucked you thoroughly, whether it be with his cock, his fingers, or into your throat.

You were going to be in for a long night. Because he planned on fucking you 7 times. You were breathless and dizzy with pleasure, his leaking cum out of your cunt. "Don't think I can cum..anymore.."

His eyes drank in the sight of your quivering, abused cunt, his cum and yours spilling down your legs. He paused the video, making you cum on his tongue before he fucked you again. "You'll cum as much I want you to, kitten," He purred, pressing your head against his desk as he turned he your head to push his cock into you mouth. "Lick it clean, whore."

#genshin impact #genshin smut #fem!reader #scaramouche #scummy scara #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x reader #yandere scaramouche #scaramouche smut

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drabblesandimagines · 1 year ago

Text

Code Pizza

Leon Kennedy x fem reader Established relationship, fluff 1,531 words

“Can’t you go any faster?” The barrel of a gun is pressed against the already tender spot from where they’d oh-so-kindly whacked you round the head earlier and you wince, losing the slight flow you’d managed to build up on the keyboard – Leon’s words echoing around your head.

“Promise me you won’t ever do any of that self-sacrificing bullshit,” he’d mumbled in your ear, arms wrapped around you in bed. He’d got back from a mission that afternoon �� been awful quiet about what it had entailed, what had happened and you hadn’t pressed.

“Me?”

“Mm. Like, if… If someone’s forcing you to do something – do it, we’ll sort out the mess later. You make sure you’re home and alive at the end of the day.” His voice sounded almost strained. “Just promise me, sweetpea.”

“I promise.”

Not exactly sure if this scenario was exactly what Leon had had in mind, but there’s a gun and a threat, so you’re typing… or at least attempting to.

“She’d be faster if you’d untied her hands.” Hunnigan grumbled from behind, seated in an office chair with her hands zip-tied behind her back. Yours are bound in front of you, keeping your wrists crossed, and essentially cutting one hand out of action entirely.

“Is that true?” Your minder – A, you decide to call him - leans forward into your peripheral vision, though his face is obscured by a ski mask – as is his companion’s – B - standing over Hunnigan. They’re geared up to the nines, spare ammo dangling off tactical belts, part of a larger operation in order to gain access to DSO HQ and you, apparently. The doors are locked down due to the emergency protocol, though the HQ works on a skeleton crew at the weekend so it’s possible that no-one even knows you and Hunnigan are in.

“100 words per minute at my best.” You shrug, eyes skimming over the code you’ve managed to get through so far. “I’m probably working at… 15 and less. So, yeah, it would be faster.”

“Nice try.” B states. “You’re writing code, not a novel.”

“Novel, no. Poetry, maybe...” You trail off. It would be a lot easier if you did have both of your hands, weren’t being held at gunpoint and not suffering from a raging headache.

You weren’t even supposed to be working, it being a Sunday. You’d been in yesterday working overtime on a project, but this morning had been spent catching up on dull chores around the house – laundry, going to the store, cleaning - and then the plan had been an afternoon of video games on the sofa, ordering a pizza for dinner, accompanied by a bottle of wine. Leon had been away a couple of days on a need-to-know basis and you didn’t have a date of when he’d be back, though he did always try and give you a couple of hours’ heads up on his impending arrival.

Early afternoon, just as you’d sat down, controller in hand, you’d got a call. Not from your boyfriend, however, but from one Ingrid Hunnigan, extremely apologetic but there had been urgent developments – vague, as always – and she needed you in ASAP. You’d agreed, couldn’t really refuse her, but you’d decided in a slight show of protest you weren’t getting changed into your more professional work wardrobe. If it truly was an emergency, they’d have to deal with you in your jeans and t-shirt…

..which had led to the nasty bruise on your temple when the intruders had burst in, taking you as a civilian to be subdued. When you came to, hands now bound, head thudding, fingers being snapped in front of your face to get your attention, you were wheeled in front of the computer terminal and given your objective.

“It’s faster in the movies.” A comments, waving the gun lazily now at least.

“We’re not in the movies.” You grumble back, irritated. “I’m writing a bespoke code to get into this system.”

B comes to stand at your side, then. “Well, our contact promised us that you were some sort of genius at this sort of stuff.”

“Maybe when I’m not concuss-” You’re cut off by him slamming his fist on the desk besides you, making you jump and your heart pound.

“Enough lip, enough excuses. Concentrate.”

You shuffle in the seat, repositioning your hands and continue on with what’s been demanded of you, Leon’s words echoing in your mind.

Your phone emits a jingle from your pocket – speak of the devil…

“What’s that?” B demands, looking around.

“It’s my phone – just a text.”

“You were meant to search her, you idiot.” B chides his companion. “Where is it?”

“Jacket pocket.” It chimes again.

“Someone’s popular.” You bite your tongue as he crouches down besides you, placing a hand unnecessarily on your thigh as he dips his hand in your pocket, fishing it out. “Who’s LSK?”

“My boyfriend.” You don’t need to turn to know Hunnigan’s trying to hold in a grin.

“Says he’s on his way home, wants to know if you’re there.”

“Can you tell him I’m working late and he should order pizza for dinner? I haven’t been grocery shopping yet and I was meant to.”

“I’m not your secretary,” B scoffs.

The phone chimes again. You’d set Leon’s messages to that obnoxious sound to be sure you heard it, not wanting to miss a chance to text with him whilst he was away. If he had time on his hands, his texts often turned to stream of consciousness until he got a reply.

“You ignoring me, sweetpea? God, he’s a bit needy, isn’t he?”

“He’ll just keep doing it unless I text back,” you pause in your typing, “Or I can do it…”

“Ah-ah, keep working.” B replies, tapping at your phone’s keyboard.

It chimes again and B sighs.

“He wants to know what you want.”

“Er…” You hesitate a moment, pretending to doublecheck a string value. “Veggie. Extra jalapenos.”

He taps again and sends, before placing your phone down on the desk out of reach. His hand squeezes your shoulder and he leans in. “Keep coding like a good girl, and we’ll make sure you get home for that pizza.”

You don’t know how he managed it with the protocols in place – surely it means there’ll be another security review - but a mere 45 minutes later after ordering your pizza, Leon comes crashing down from the ceiling, taking out A and B with single, effective shots in the chest as he does.

He forward rolls out of the impact and gets to his feet with a flourish.

“Sorry for the wait, ladies, pizza’s free since it wasn’t 30 minutes or less.” He grins, heading to Hunnigan first and cutting through her restraints.

“Do I even want to ask?” Hunnigan quirks an eyebrow, rubbing her wrists. Leon walks over to you next, crouching down in front of you and cutting your wrists free. “Wait, extra jalapenos?”

“Bingo.” You reply, though unable to tear your eyes away from Leon – he looks tired, not unusual after returning from a mission, in need of a shave. He cups your face, fingers gently brushing over the tender spot on your temple to assess the damage. “It’s a dumb code, we know.”

“No, it obviously worked. Good thinking.” Hunnigan nods, getting to her feet and approaching another terminal, sliding in her keycard to overrule the emergency controls and release the doors. “I need to call this all in – get it tidied up. Did you gain access?”

“No, couple of lines away, though.” You look at the lines of code on the screen. “I did spend a lot of time to make sure it had a real nice interface for when I ran it, for extra pizazz.”

“Good work – both of you.” Hunnigan turns to face Leon directly then, “Make sure you keep an eye on her - took quite a hit.”

“I will. Thanks, Hunnigan.” He remains crouched at your feet, your hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Good. And don’t come into tomorrow – either of you. I’ll deal with… this.” She strides out with purpose, shoulders back, nothing alluding to the fact that she was a woman who’s been held hostage for the past however many hours.

“You good, sweetheart?”

You smile, staring deep into those blue eyes you adore. “I’m good. You?”

“Won’t lie, not quite the homecoming I expected. Come here.” He pulls you up out of the chair and against his chest, wraps his arms around you and kisses you frantically, though you know it’s in relief.

“Had me worried with those jalapenos,” Leon admits, softly.

“I kept my promise.”

“Mm, not quite.” He pulls back and grins – you know that grin – but you still let out a squeal as he hooks an arm under your legs and picks you up in his arms.

“Leon, I can-“

“Nah, your promise isn’t kept and my mission isn’t over till you’re home. Allow me to give you the full hero experience.”

You roll your eyes, before pressing a kiss to his jaw.

“Fine. But we’re still getting pizza.”

“Took the words outta my mouth, sweetpea.”

Comments, likes and reblogs make my whole day x

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

#ghostdogwrites #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you

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silvvermst · 4 months ago

Text

GOD, I LOVE NERDS

SYNOPSIS :: Warren got his new glasses since he spent too much time on his computer, but it only made him more attractive on your end.

NOTE :: I need him with glasses, I'm on a brainrot

TYPE :: fluff

Warren has been acting strange, and not the way you were used to his weirdness. Goodness, you’ve been dating for almost a year. But this past few days he has been insisting going on “online dates”. For example, you guys are on facetime from day to night but you’re the only one who has their camera on and no matter how much you insist him to show his face on the camera, he just wouldn’t and creates a different topic to shift your attention.

This weirdness was putting you off, surely, and you’re sure he doesn’t have it in him to cheat. Now that is unbelievable. Warren. The guy who has been literally worshipping the ground you walk on ever since you were children to the guy who became your first boyfriend and promised himself to you. It was suspicious, but you couldn't help but doubt his faithfulness. Therefore, you took it upon yourself to find out what’s actually happening these days.

It has been a minute since you’ve knocked on his door and your patience is on thin ice. “Warren Daniel Graham.”

“You, you should’ve told me you were coming.” You heard his voice tremble from the other side of the door. Desperation was laced in the tone of his voice clearly trying to hide something.

The thought of him having another girl over made you bite your lip, surely he won’t do that to you. He promised. “Warren, you’re making me worry.”

On instinct, Warren opened the door wide open. Maybe it was a small sob and crack you let out that he put your distress over his and opened the door for you. Although, his state as of now was what shocked you the most. His hair has always been messy but it looks like somebody pulled his hair harshly, while his eyes were red and tears stained his cheeks.

“Warren! What happened to you?” Your cause of worry earlier shifted to the state he was in. Rushing over to his side and drying his tears with your palms.

“It’s nothing, I swear!” He laughed it off and harshly rubbed his eyes only for him to groan as the stinging got much worse. “Haha… w, what brings you here, sweets?”

“Jesus, you think I’d buy that?! Tell me what happened to you!” Panic arises from you since the condition of his eyes has gotten much worse and his tears doesn't stop flowing.

“Okay, okay. I, I got some contacts.” He confessed, blinking his eyes trying to dust off the tears that were welling up in his tear ducts. “I feel like my eyes don’t like the contacts.” He laughed it off once more and scratched his neck.

“Oh my God! Remove it, then! You might get an infection.” He groans once more, by this time he needs your help to guide him around the house because his eyes get blurry from the tears. “Here, sit here.”

You gently helped him locate the couch and he plopped with a bounce, though you couldn’t help but look away when he removed the contacts from his eyes and gently placed it back on the two circular case. “Sorry, t’was disgusting.”

“No! You’re not! It’s just your fingers were so close to your eyeballs!” You exclaimed, bumping your shoulders together as you took the space on the couch next to him. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Can you help me get my eyedrops in the bathroom? It’s in the medicine cabinet.” He asks, still blinking his eyes from irritation.

“Got it, just wait here.” You immediately got up from the couch and rushed towards the bathroom. You didn’t even need his instructions on which room is the bathroom, you made your way to it like it was your own house.

“Gotcha!” You exclaimed after investigating the vial bottle where a bunch of letters that spelled out Eye Drops on a sticky paper wrapped around the bottle. You went back to the living room and caught Warren rubbing his eyes abrasively. “Warren! Your eyes might get more irritated if you keep rubbing it.”

“Sorry, it’s just so… itchy!” For the last time, he rubbed his eyes once more before your own hands stopped him.

“Seriously, you. Anyways, I got your eye drops.” You handed him the vial and without wasting a second he poured droplets of it into his eyes and once again, you couldn’t help but look away.

After he poured the drops both in his eyes, he set the vial at the coffee table in front of the couch. He opened his arms to you, and you didn’t hesitate to collapse on him. You always loved the feel of his arms around you, but of course you couldn’t help but wonder why he ended up in this situation. “Wait, why are you even wearing eye contacts?! Your brown eyes are already perfect…” You pouted, at least to you it’s the perfect shade of brown ever! He bit his bottom lip but he couldn’t help but turn his frown upside down. “Don’t give me that sweet smile that you know I‘d go soft for!”

“Okay, okay, it’s just my vision has been getting blurry from using the computer, phone, et cetera. So… I went to the hospital and I had to get some graded glasses.” He sighed, remembering his time with that horrible and strict optometrist. “But it didn’t look good on me so I bought some contacts but I think I’m allergic to them…”

Suddenly you put two and two together. “Is that why you were so insistent on having online dates?” You know that you got him by the way he avoids your eyes and looks at the uninteresting items around the living room.

“Hmm, no?” His answer almost sounds like a question that you couldn’t help but chuckle and feel himself push his body next to you, burying his head towards your neck and inhaling your musky perfume that he loved so much.

“Oh, honey. You should’ve just worn the glasses. I’m sure you’d still be the cutest guy in this town.” You tried to assure him by caressing his cheeks while your thumb softly dusts away the tears from his eyelashes.

“You don’t understand. Chloe… Chloe said I looked like Simon from Alvin and the Chipmunks! And you know what? I actually do look like him, now that she mentioned it!” He groaned, pulling away from your comforting touch and put his head on his arms to hide, casting a shadow upon himself.

“Warren, come on, some stupid glasses are not gonna make you any less attractive. I’d even prefer it, rather than seeing you get allergies from contact lenses. So please, don’t torture yourself so that you can appear appealing for me because my feelings aren’t shallow for you that it would change just because you change something about you.” You softly pecked his lips. Finally his body relaxed, his shoulders loosened before nodding. While the redness in his eyes slowly faded away, and the tears that were flowing earlier stopped.

“I’m not underestimating your feelings, babe. It’s just…” He took a deep breath and took out an eyeglass case. “Just don’t laugh.”

You immediately shook your head as you watched in anticipation when he opened the case and revealed a black round frames. Your impatience and excitement got the better of you. “Can I put it on you?”

“Wha, uh, sure.” He gently handed you the eye glasses and closed his eyes. You made sure the hooks of the glasses rest comfortably on his ears. “Is it good?” He asked with his eyes still shut.

When you didn’t answer, nervousness settled on his bones. His fingers anxiously tapping on his thighs as he waits for your answer or at least a confirmation that he doesn’t look bad. Maybe the reason for your speechlessness was because he looked so adorable with his glasses on, sure it made him look more like a nerd than he already is but it just made him look more handsome.

“Honey?” He called out, he didn’t want to open your eyes and be met with a turned off expression, but as he was about to call out your name, your lips shut him up. He opened his eyes in shock because every now and again, he never gets used to the fact that he’s dating you so every time the two of you kiss it always sends him in a state where he has constant reminders in his mind that he has the absolute permission to kiss you back.

“You look so hot in your glasses.” You whispered when you parted your lips from him. It was just mere seconds but both of you have to take deep breaths while a bead of sweat rolls down on your forehead because somehow the room became comfortably warm even if the AC was on.

“Wait, you're serious?” His jaw slacks from your sudden declaration. In response you laughed at his obvious confusion, moving closer and straddled his lap. Your hand slid on his cheeks, gently squishing the soft flesh. Upon doing so his glasses slightly got crooked and ended up on the tip of his nose making it out of place.

“What? You might look like Simon, but I can see a little Milo Thatch here and there. And you know he was my childhood crush.” Your hand moved on his neck since he was about to reach out scratch that spot again.

There was not a doubt that whatever he hides, his small habits always catches your attention that it makes you see right through him. You know him better than he knows himself and how you fully accept those habits, patterns, and mostly is himself what made him confident.

“Mhm, now that I thought about it… I guess I do. What if for Halloween we go out as Milo and Princess Kida?” You smiled at his suggestion and gently nodded. While his hands roam on your back, you let yourself be pulled towards him, closing the gap between you before resting your forehead on his shoulder. “Are you sure I look fine?”

You slightly leaned backward and took a close inspection of his face. God, how can he be this fine and still question his looks? The glasses compliment his facial features, especially his eyes. It made his eyes pop more of color from the metallic silver frames he chose. “Do I have to kiss you how much I want you for you to be rest assured?”

The grin he had earlier turned into a smile that shows his teeth. “Yes. Yes, please.”

You didn’t wait a second as you caught him off guard from the sudden kiss. It gradually became deeper and hands finally roamed under your sweatshirt, feeling the way your skin burned from his touch and sent shivers down your spine. When you were about to pull away to breathe, he rested his hand on your nape preventing your escape. He continued to suck on your bottom lip, causing you to breathe to your nose only for it to fog his glasses.

“Warren, not fair.” By this time you were able to talk as if he moved towards your jaw, leaving open-mouthed kisses.

“What’s not fair? You started it.” His mouth was already on your neck when you softly moaned his name, despite the warmness of his kisses his glasses were the opposite feeling the cold chill of the metal frames of his glasses.

His remark made you speechless, but to be honest it was the way his touches made you look like a puppet. Only responding to the places he touched you and how much you wanted for more. Your desire made you bold to hold his face and engage in a searing kiss, leaving red lipstick smudge on the side of his lips but he doesn’t have it in him to care, if anything he wanted you to mark his body with your kisses and lipstick.

You sneaked out your phone tucked in your pockets, hypnotizing him from your kiss so he wouldn’t notice it. Before you pull away you peck the tip of his nose, then you hit the camera icon on your phone and angled the phone to take a quick picture.

“Hey! Not fair!” He whined, trying to take away the phone from you, likely had an intention to delete the picture. But you kept flailing your arms accompanied with the sound of laughter that he couldn’t help but melt to.

“Pleaseeee, just let me keep this one.” When he stopped trying to take your phone, you opened the gallery to see the photo you took. “See?!”

His pout turned into an ‘oh’ shape when he saw it. The lighting of the room helped elevate the photo, and him as a subject being in a dazed state with his pupils blown while his face was covered in a red smudged lipstick just made this single photo into a masterpiece. “Now, I have a wallpaper.”

You saw the look on his face, utterly bewildered by how good he looked at the picture you’ve taken made you giggle. How on Earth is he not aware how many girls are jealous of you by just dating him?!

The sound of your laugh muffled by your hand caught his attention. “Fine, you can keep it. But only for yourself.”

“Hmm, I don’t know, I kinda want to print it out and put it all over my room.” Your pointer finger touched your chin as if you’re in a manner of thinking deeply. He chuckled at your teasing that he couldn’t help but pounce you and put you down on the couch.

“Do whatever you want, but I want a picture of you as well.” He softly kissed your collarbone, leaving wet trails of kisses. He slipped his hand under your shirt, almost able to touch the fabric of your brassiere when a car beeped outside his house.

Both of you went still as stone until you heard his mom yelled his name. “Oh, shit.” You muttered under your breath.

“Yeah, let’s continue this upstairs.” He immediately got off of you, both of your hearts hammering against their rib cages from the thought of being caught. Since the sound of the front door creaking open and the hall connected to the living room, you had at least a little time to fix your clothes.

“Warren, have you watered the plants?” His mother’s eyes shifted from her husband to the both of you. “Oh!”

In an awkward laugh, Warren took hold of the situation. “Haha, so, you’ve met my girlfriend before. But we’re going to go upstairs now.”

He took your hand and instantly took off from the scene and headed towards his bedroom. Leaving both of his parents stunned and flustered by how bold their son has become.

The moment both of you were inside of his room, he made sure to close and locked the door. “We totally fooled them.” He said in triumph.

“Baby, you still literally have my lipsticks stained all over your mouth and nose. What makes you think we fooled them?”

“So, what? At least they know I’m loved right?” His cheeky grin was so infectious that you couldn’t help but giggle at what he said. He pulled you by the waist to steal a quick kiss.

“I might have to kiss you all over once we go to school, by the time you walk in the classroom girls might just lose their mind. So I have to remind them I’m your girlfriend or something.” Just imagining it boils down your mood, because if you couldn’t help but go feral over him just thinking about other people…

His pointer finger and thumb softly pinches your chin to make you look at him.“I doubt that, everyone knows I only have eyes for you. Well, four eyes.” You rolled your eyes but your grin couldn’t be wiped from your face.

He’s got a point, though. He always has his eyes for you.

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tiny-pretty-sana · 1 month ago

Text

taste of love | chaeyoung x reader

[request] paring: chaeyoung x reader genre: fluff and smut warnings: nsfw (+18), minors dni and not proofread tags: established relationship, top!chaeyoung, soft dom (kinda?), smutty intimacy, not plot just vibes w/c: 4.3k a/n: first time writing idol x reader and second time writing smut!! i love trying new things and i hope it's not too awkward. i also hope the lovely @nr1chaedickrider enjoys it and that the wait was worth it

It’s Friday night. You should be having dinner with your girlfriend at one of those small restaurants with cute decorations and dimmed lights that would become crowded and popular as soon as someone posted about them in social media, but for now are unknown and hidden enough for her to love them. She’s always been the best at finding these secret spots for your dates, like the one you were supposed to be having right now. You have actually been looking forward to it all week, but you had to cancel your plans after you left your boss's office this morning.

It doesn't matter that you've been working late all week on your assigned projects to get everything up to date because your boss needs a detailed presentation of last month’s sales first thing Monday morning. It doesn't matter how much work you've managed to get done ahead of schedule because you're young and that's the way things work. You're here to do your boss's job, be his secretary to then do your actual job .

When you finally leave the building you see the dark sky and city lights, which means you’re leaving later than usual. You hadn't noticed, but your shoulders, back and neck are tense after the extra hours you've spent in front of the computer ignoring the stress, irritation and hunger you felt. But it's all done, you remember and try to forget about work until Monday.

You sigh and reach into your bag for your phone to call her. Before you can hear the second tone she picks it up but you don’t even give que time to answer.

“Hey Chae I’m so sorry…” you start apologizing but she cuts you off and you hear her chuckle softly.

"Baby stop, you've already apologized. I've already told you I'm not upset, I'm just worried because you're overworking yourself and I know you well enough to know that when you do, you don’t eat properly, among other things. We can have dinner out tomorrow, now just come home, y/n." she says with that gentle tone that she uses when she knows you need some comfort even if her intention was to scold you for your unhealthy working habits.

“Let me make it up for you. I’ll bring your favorite from that place you like near my work” you offer.

"Don't worry about it, I've already made dinner. You've had a hard day, so let me take care of you. Come home safely, I'm waiting for you, okay?"

You do as she says, but you can't help but make a quick stop by the convenience store to buy some strawberries after seeing that the flower shop had already closed. She says she's not upset with you, but you know that she was just as eager as you were to have your special night out.

On your way home, after hearing your girlfriend’s calming voice and knowing she is home waiting for you, you start feeling much better, still the tiredness and the tension of your muscles remains.

There are some free seats in the subway but right now the last thing you want is going back to a sitting position, choosing to stand near the gates to jump off as soon as the train gets to your spot. The last thing you want to do is to delay even for a few seconds the moment you get home to her. You count the minutes left, the remaining stops and how many songs away you are from her. They are the same as always but at this particular moment it feels as if time is not passing as fast as you need to, making you get to your apartment building so fast you make it to the elevator almost breathless.

When you open the door, the first thing you notice is the strawberry scent from the candle you got her and then you see Chaeyoung. She’s there waiting for you with the biggest smile and her arms ready to wrap you. You stand in front of her and kiss the beauty mark under her lip before locking your mouths in a gentle kiss. After so long it has become a ritual like crossing your face when you get in church. It doesn’t feel like you’re home until you feel her lips against yours.

Her arms are wrapped around your waist when she whispers “Are you okay?” against your skin before pulling away to look at you while she cups your face with one hand.

“I’m good now” you say looking into those big dark eyes with sparks on them that resemble stars. “Just tired”.

The next thing you notice when you come back to your senses after the long awaited kiss is the delicious smell of food cooked by your girlfriend, the table already set, candles everywhere and the ceiling lamp covered with a scarf. The dim light and the reddish shade give a touch of intimacy like those places you like to go to. Seeing how she has made the effort to set this while you were worried that you might have upset her by canceling your date makes you feel really lucky and full of love. From the corner of your eye you can see her smiling brightly.

As expected, the dinner was delicious yet simple. Chaeyoung is not the most skilled cook but she makes the best dressings and sauces. Like any other night you tell each other about your day and make some plans for the weekend while you both eat the grilled salmon and the salad she has made, but being as hungry as you are you let her do most of the talking. Still you tell her about the awful day you had at work. She knows there is not much she can do besides support you and offer words of encouragement, but she makes sure to let you know so you don't forget that you can always count on her even when she doesn't quite understand what your job is all about sometimes. Sometimes even you don't quite know what you're doing.

After talking for a while with empty plates in front of you and a half-full glass of wine in your hand, it's time to clean up and you offer to wash the dishes.

“Don’t worry about the dishes, you’ve done more than enough when I should’ve been the one making it up for our canceled date” you sigh, still somewhat disappointed. “Go take a shower”.

“Join me when you’re done” she winks at you teasingly.

You have probably never cleaned the dishes this fast.

Intending to join Chaeyoung in the shower, you slip in wearing just your underwear, but just as you did when you entered the house, you find the bathroom with the dim lighting of candles scattered around the place. The room is filled with the faint fragrance of jasmines, subtle, but it is enough to notice its comforting sweetness. An the bathtub has a layer of bubbles covering the surface of the water

She is on her knees at the foot of the tub lighting the last few pairs of candles wearing just her pants and her bra leaving her back tattoo on full display for you to admire. Being too focused with the candles she doesn’t realize you are there until you decide to make your presence known.

“I should’ve known you’re up to something” you say, unable to hide your smile.

Chaeyoung then turns around looking at you with those hooded eyes she gets when she drinks, they are not as sparkly as usual but the dozen flames that bathe the wall tiles are reflected in her eyes. Her eyes are the color of rich espresso, with a deep and captivating gaze that draws you in. You lock eyes with hers and it does not take you two much longer to get rid of the remaining clothes and get into the bathtub.

The water is hot and welcoming just like her embrace, she wraps your arms around you when you take the spot between her legs, resting your back against her front. And as soon as you rest your head on her shoulder you can feel the remnants of tension left in your body vanish as you let yourself be taken over by indulging in the delight of the senses. Chaeyoung's soft touch under the water, her velvety voice caressing your ear, the floral aroma is accompanied by the scent of strawberries, the remains of wine dancing in your tongue and the dim light of the candles bathing your skin.

As her hands are too busy wandering around your body, you take care of feeding her and bring the glass of wine to her lips. In between you can't miss the opportunity to steal a kiss or two.

The first few kisses are playful pecks you give her as you replace the strawberries with your own lips. Soon those stolen kisses are not enough for her and they gradually escalate into slow, sensual kisses that leave you both breathless. You lazily make out, exploring each other’s mouths like it is the first time, with the same tenderness, but with the confidence of someone who has done this a thousand times before. Now you know each other like the back of your hands. You know the pace that makes her go insane and she knows when is the right time to slide her tongue in your mouth to make you go dizzy.

The taste of wine and strawberries makes you uncertain of where your mouth ends and hers begins until you follow her movements pushing your tongue between her lips and among the sweet and sour mixture you recognize a hint of Chaeyoung. It's something you cannot explain and you don't even know if it makes sense, but in the same way that she has her own distinct scent that you can distinguish beneath the perfume you are also able to recognize something that is inherently hers when you kiss, no matter if she has chewed gum, eaten chocolate or drank soju before. Not even when she uses a mint candy to mask the rare taste of cigarettes when she's stressed. It is that taste along with the gentle feeling of her tongue caressing the roof of your mouth that is making you feel more lightheaded than the actual alcohol you have been drinking since dinner. she just has this power over you.

Kisses do not stop. You turn your body slightly to have better access to not just her mouth but her as a whole and tangle your hands in her hair in an attempt of pulling her impossibly closer when there aren't even clothes getting in the way between her smooth, tattooed skin and yours. It is at this moment when you become aware of a different wetness than the water between your legs, is the same wetness you’re also feeling against your ass, letting you know that your kisses have the same effect on Chae as hers do on you. Your move is followed by a soft moan as a result of the pressure you made against her center.

That sweet sound is accompanied by other sounds coming out of both her mouth and yours mixing with the sound of sloppy kisses that are getting deeper and more passionate. Her kisses are becoming hungrier every time and those same hands that once caressed you gently are now griping you with possession. Feeling her sinking her fingers in your skin feels as familiar as the sensation pooling in your lower stomach, like a prelude of what is to come.

Her left hand moves up to your chest making you gasp against her lips at the sudden feeling of her cupping your breast. Your body reacts to the touch immediately as your nipples stiffen under her teasing thumb and your back slightly arches giving you a glimpse of her wetness one more time making her breath hitches and the kissing stops.

Your mouths are no longer devouring each other’s but she keeps hers busy by tracing her tongue over your neck to end up nibbling your earlobe before you feel her slightly unsteady breathing just millimeters away from your ear.

“Stop doing that, this is about you” she tells you off.

Chaeyoung’s warning gets followed by caresses that go up and down your thighs until she gets to your inner thigh squeezing it firmly and forcing you to keep your legs spread for her just for the sake of having you at her mercy since she has no intention of giving you what you crave yet. She wants you to know who is in control now, wants you to know she is going to take care of you and give you what you need. She is in charge and you are completely at her mercy.

It is not something unfamiliar. You both always enjoy a little power game, but that is not what you need now and she knows it. This control doesn’t come from a want of overpowering you but from devotion, she’s willing to take all the weight from your shoulder so you can let yourself go to allow the pleasure to take over you. She is here to provide not to take, you know it and that thought alone makes you feel dizzy and hot.

Her hands are all over you, left hand wandering around your upper body while the other stays still in your thigh going up and down at a maddening peace. She cups your breasts and teases your nipples. At first she ghosts around them with her fingertips drawing figures on your skin, but as they get hard it gets too appealing not to go further by trapping them between her two fingers pinching them just enough to make your whines hit her ears. Throughout all this, her lips have not stopped placing wet kisses on your neck along with some biting and sucking in all the right spots.

This is all it takes for her to have you all worked up and desperate for the touch you crave. You are pretty much aware of her touch as your own hands are top of her even when she is the one guiding the movements. You feel how she runs hers everywhere but between your legs where your neglected cunt starts pulsating in need.

“Please Chae…” you start pleading but it gets caught in your throat as she moves up her hand to run a finger between your folds.

“I know baby, I can feel it. You’re so wet and ready for me” she cooes without a hint of teasing in her voice, she is enjoying this as much as you.

Her finger travels up and down between your folds, despite being underwater it moves with ease due to the slickness that has been dripping from your center since the kisses started to escalate. The hand you once had on top of the one she now has between your legs, is tangled in her hair guiding her mouth against yours to capture her lips in a hungry kiss. Those kisses are not enough to silence your moans once her ministrations reach your clit making circles that get progressively smaller tightening the knot that is forming in your lower stomach.

She switches up the pace and her motions, taking you to the limit but not in a hurry, you are not in the mood for something quick. Today soft and slow is what you both want. It is intimate and passionate like whispering I love you between heated kisses.

For a moment your mouths part and she pauses to admire the mess she is turning you into. You feel the warmth of your cheeks and the reddish hue tinting Chae's. You probably look like that too, with your hair sticking to your forehead more from sweat than water, with a blush on your cheeks that extends to your ears and your lips looking wet and puffy.

The break lasts a few seconds, just long enough to remind you that there is a world beyond Chaeyoung's mouth and the feeling between your legs. The room feels warmer, it starts to be overwhealming, you suddenly become aware of the hot water and the sweat on the back of your neck. The smell of jasmine is still present, but it is overshadowed by the smell of her hair that has not yet touched the water. The taste of wine and strawberry in your mouth is still there, but now you can taste her too. Some candles have already melted.

Her hand immediately stops, and before you can complain, she shuts you up with a kiss.

“I want to taste you” she breathes seconds before running her tongue across your parted lips, giving your shivers.

That's all you need to hear to know what to do, you don't need to be told twice or given directions on what to do. It is one of those things that you have internalized so much that your body executes the action before your brain can process the information. You untangle your limbs and she gives you space as she helps you to reposition yourself.

When you stand up, you notice the change in temperature hitting your skin. Your nipples stiffen against the cool air just as they do between her hot lips. This contrast feels good especially when you sit around the bathtub with your back against the cold tiles to spread your legs for her. Chaeyoung is in front of you, looking you in the eyes, but it doesn't take long for her to turn her gaze downward lingering on the marks on your neck, the nipples she so loves to savor and the fuzzy scratches on your stomach she has left tonight until her eyes land on your glistening core, with your swollen clit trapped between your puffy folds. It is not a matter of want anymore, you need her.

The same desire you see in her eyes is what she sees in yours when you have her on her knees ready to devour you and get lost between your legs. Now the water barely covers half of her thighs giving you a delicious view of your girlfriend. Her petite frame, her tattooed arms in full display, the slightly marked muscles of her abdomen, the untattooed hand with freshly cut nails that seconds ago was bringing you to the edge and a little above her perfectly trimmed bush, the tattoo on her hip that nobody but you have witnessed.

It doesn't matter how many times you have seen her because she always manages to take your breath away and fluster you when she stares at you with that look where love and lust blend together.

“God... you look so good and so delicious. I love you so much” she says in such an adorable tone that you can't help but giggle.

“I don't know how you can be cute in moments like this, I love you more” you reply grabbing her hands and pulling her closer to you.

“I'm not cute” she whines proving that even when she is about to go down on you she can be so adorable.

She realizes it herself before you tease her further and hides in your neck as you chuckle, but the next thing she does takes you by surprise. When she bites your neck right at your pulse point, a moan comes from your throat.

Right away, you place her hands on your hips and pull her close, trapping her body between your thighs. Chaeyoung does the rest and gets into the right position to then slide her arms around your legs so that they are over her shoulders. Her slender fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs with possession while yours tangle in her hair tightly, giving away your desperation.

She presses gentle kisses on your inner thighs, no matter how much she wants to taste you or how much you need to feel her mouth, those are mandatory and they melt you every time. The trail starts down near your knees and as she gets closer to your center those kisses are followed by little nibbles and kitten licks.

“You taste like soap” she giggles.

You don't answer her, but instinctively grab the glass that is still full of white wine and spill it on your bare leg, making her gulp. Despite the initial surprise, she reacts swiftly and catches the drops of wine before they reach the junction between your legs. You know she wouldn't let a drop of her favorite wine go to waste, especially if it means tasting it straight from your skin. For some it may be arguable, but for Chaeyoung, wine has never tasted so good to her as it does right now.

“You're crazy” she whispers before biting you tenderly.

His mouth does not distract you from the hand that dangerously runs its thumb around your pussy making you shudder slightly in anticipation. Soon the touch of her fingers is replaced by her tongue that runs along your slit from your hole to your clit tasting your juices. As you exhale the air that has been caught in your lungs, she inhales the scent of your arousal.

When you feel yourself getting so close to where you were just moments ago by her just lapping on your juices you know you won't be able to last much longer. She is not much farther away as you can constantly feel the vibration of her moaning against your core just from eating you out. If this goes on you are confident that she might cum just from going down on you and that is incredibly hot. She really enjoys this and you are really taking advantage of her skills, she is just so good at this.

Chaeyoung knows what she is doing and knows your body better than you do. Tongue flat as she licks your cunt up and down, but hardening the muscle as she strokes the bundle of nerves just before wrapping her lips around it and sucking on it threatening to break the knot in your abdomen. Both of your breaths quicken and get uneven, merging in the air with moans, muffled cursing and the obscene sound of your wetness against her tongue.

Once again the fingers join in, collecting the spit and slick mess that coats your pussy and drips down your thighs into your ass. It is hot, dirty and lewd in contrast to the softness of her features and the tranquility reflected in her face with her eyes shut as she plays with your juices and intoxicates herself in your scent. The same scent that is now coating the fingers that playfully feel your entrance making a beg to slip in between the moans.

“I need you inside” you plead softly.

Seconds later she shoves two fingers inside while her mouth focuses on your clit, drawing shapes with her tongue getting hungrier and faster, matching the speed of her fingers as they fill you up and take you closer to the edge.

Her name is heard coming out of your lips louder and louder, each one of them is followed by a soft echo that screams her name with you again.

“Chaeyoung…”.

“Right there!”.

“So good”.

“Don’t stop”.

At your prayers she can only give you what you ask for by making your body go back and forth between the quivering of your limbs and the tightness of your muscles as your back arches in pleasure and your legs lock around her head. As her movements speed up and her fingers reach new spots when they arch inside you, the tension is what takes over your body as you chase your high.

Your hand pulls her hair burying her face in your cunt while the other finds a place squeezing your breast, trusting that Chaeyoung is there to get you. Feeling your body come over the edge your hips begin to move erratically, to her it doesn't go unnoticed and she says the words that she knows will lead you to where you need to be. Pulling her mouth just inches away from your center she whispers against your sensitive skin as she looks into your eyes that fight to stay open.

“You’re taking me so well, cum for me now baby”.

That couple of words followed by her fingers hitting that soft spot inside you as her lips catch your clit is the last thing you needed for the wave of pleasure to wash over your body, finally releasing the tension stuck in your lower abdomen and shutting down your senses for a brief moment. All you feel is the release as your vision fades to black and the sounds around you become a blur.

Before you can regain consciousness you notice the last few licks as she cleans you up and keeps her fingers inside you so you can ride out the earth shattering orgasm you have just had. She carefully laps up every last drop of cum being careful not to overstimulate you, but even that doesn't stop your legs from shaking before the tension in your limbs dissipates completely.

You are still panting when you hear her giggling and look down, encountering an image that you can only hope will be burned into your memory.

You can safely say it is the most erotic thing you have ever laid eyes on in your entire life. Still between your legs you see her face framed by her messy black hair, bringing out even more of the blush on her cheeks that complements her fleshy pink lips coated in your slick as she is grinning. She has the same dark hooded eyes she has when she is starting to get drunk, perhaps she's actually drunk on you.

#°❀‿request #twice smut #twice imagines #chaeyoung smut #chaeyoung x reader #son chaeyoung x reader #kpop x reader #girl group imagines #girl group smut

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mono-lee-mmxxii · 2 months ago

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Fic for the Shapes & Pines AU by @void-dude! I haven't been near my computer for a couple of days but I have had my phone so uhh, Tad Strange fanfic, yeah? Yeah

Summary: Tad has a nightmare about a memory he'd rather not think about

He had to be, if he was back in Euclidia. The sounds of his neighbors leaving for the store filtered in, a series of sounds he'd heard so many times he swore he’d remember them forever. Well, he thought he would.

---

Tad was dreaming.

Now, the memory is muffled and warped by centuries of time. To his dreaming mind, it's crystal clear, because he already knows what happens next. He's seen it all before.

In the mirror, he gets ready for work. His hat and tie, and of course his umbrella. Weather in Euclidia was abrupt, and difficult to forecast, and he'd spent enough years babysitting to know that he should always be prepared.

As he was checking his pockets one last time, he heard the neighbors again, much louder than before. Heading back to the house.

“Do you smell smoke?” Tad heard the neighbor ask, the words drifting through the open window.

“Did we leave the stove on?”

He remembered not smelling it until then, and his dream mirrors that. Now that attention has been drawn to it, he could smell smoke in the air, stinging his lungs.

He went to check his own stove in concern, and stopped in the doorway.

This month he'd been late to pay the gas bill- he hadn't paid it at all, actually, and it'd been cut off already. So none of what he's looking at should be possible.

Blue fire leaps from every burner, flames almost a foot tall. It's scorching the walls, and it won't be long until the whole house is on fire.

As he's standing there, the candles on the table burst into brilliant blue life.

This close, he can see that the fire looks different up close. It's got more than just fire. It looks like the stars.

Realization hit him like a physical weight, and he thinks he's going to be sick.

Oh Billy, what have you done?

It took several seconds before he could move again, the fire creeping closer all the while.

When he could move his shaking legs, he bolted for the front door. If he could just find Billy, maybe they could find a way out. A way to stop this.

Or at least he wouldn't be alone in death.

“Don't look at it! It burns to look at! Just run!” He could hear another neighbor scream, and realized they must have gotten close enough to see the stars.

"I can't! It's everywhere!".

A shudder ran through him, and he looked around frantically in the street. A triangle, any hint of yellow- where was Billy? Where were Euclid and Scalene? Their house was so close by, it was just right around the corner and-

What remained of the Cipher house was the center of the blazing inferno, Tad realized. The entire house was ablaze, and it was taking everything else down with it. Even the dirt seemed to burn into ash and then wither away into nothing.

In the ashy dust surrounding the house was an imprint of Billy. Further back, he could see the ashen shapes that his heart knew were once Euclid and Scalene. They had been his first clients as a babysitter. Over time, they'd become almost second parents to him.

“Billy?” He called, hoping the little triangle would pop out from behind something, or perhaps appear in the corner of his eye.

Nothingness.

The fire was creeping closer, and he was shaking. Sweat, cold and clammy, dripped down his face and off his corners.

“Billy!”

If he hadn't hurt looking at the fire, maybe there was something about their mutations that made them special. Maybe they could survive if they could get shelter.

He didn't want to be by himself when the fire got to him.

“BILLY!!!”

He was going to be alone.

The whole Cipher family was gone. From the constantly kindhearted Euclid and patiently creative Scale down to little Billy, who had grown out of velcro on his shoes only a few years ago.

Gone, for good.

Tad couldn't run anymore, not from the fire or his fear.

He sank to his knees. Coldness gnawed at his extremities despite the world burning around him.

Never before did he think he was gonna die all by himself. Before he could dwell on just how isolated his death would be, he was yanked to the reality in front of him by a terrifying scream.

Fire and wood screeched and crashed and roared behind him in a splintering cacophony.

Tad turned around in time to see a collapsing tree, still burning, headed right for him.

Oh, hopefully the impact will kill me before the fire does.

He thought, right before the burning tree collided with him and everything went dark.

---

Tad woke up in a dark place.

Surpringing, since he didn't think he'd wake up at all.

He felt like he was floating, and the darkness was heavy. He was warm, which felt… wrong, somehow. Hadn't it been cold, after the fire?

He cracked his eye open, looking around lazily. Nothingness as far as he could see.

He was still alone.

Closing his eye, he decided he was going to sleep until he stopped waking up.

Just as he did, the void he was floating in shifted. He jerked, every muscle tensing as the falling sensation startled him awake.

“Sorry,” Stan whispered as he slid back into bed.

“What for?” Tad asked blearily, reaching for his husband with fumbling hands.

“Didn't mean to wake ya.”

“What were you doing?”

“Had to take a leak.” Stan confirmed, and Tad snorted in lieu of a laugh.

“Wash your hands.”

“Already did.” Stanley snagged Tad’s searching hands out of midair, pulling them close for a kiss.

From the bed, Tad grinned at him. He was still half asleep, struggling to keep his eye open.

“Good. Get back under here, it's cold.”

“I know.” Stan murmured, getting back under the blanket. “Mabel cranked the AC last night. I'll have to get on her about that in the morning.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sleep now, talk later.” Tad patted Stan’s face, still grinning. He’d decided a long time ago he liked the feeling of stubble, scratchy and prickly against his hand. But only his human.

“Whatever you say, dice… man…”

Stanley was already asleep. Tad would've laughed, if he wasn't falling asleep too.

And for the rest of the night, his dreams were quiet.

#shapes and pines au #stanley pines #tad strange #i suffer nightmares and so Tad must suffer nightmares as well #comfort at the end #stan and tad are giving me life

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osakhee · 5 days ago

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level up, camboy!wonbin (feat sungchan)

second part of action!

! roommate!sungchan, voyeurism, wonbin gets tied up, edging, overstimulation, use of toy(s), sungchan is mean, degradation, use of slut/whore

wonbin never really cares about how many eyes are looking at him. the more viewers on his stream the happier, the harder he gets. he couldn't care less that his roommate and dear friend sungchan stands at slightly opened door, hidden in the dark corridor. wonbin is too concentrated on his hands that slide down his shining chest, listening eagerly to his chat's every command.

sungchan doesn't know how he ended up here. all he wanted was to ask wonbin if he wanted to order some food... sungchan has always been a quite lively person, and his roommate that spent all his time with him suddenly started disappearing in his room as soon as the night started to set. sungchan is getting tired of eating alone in the kitchen, wonbin even gave up on the movie night they set together every thursday and it really made him sad. he couldn't be more surprised when he peaked through wonbin's door once and saw his friend's naked body lit up by his computer screen doing some of the most obscene things sungchan has never seen. more than aroused, sungchan actually felt really curious. is it this activity that stopped wonbin from paying attention to him, his beloved friend?

sungchan ended up looking through different websites until he found wonbin's account. he created an account to lurk through his roommate's profile fully. the dates of some of his old streams matched exactly with the evenings where he was missing next to sungchan on the couch, and it made sungchan upset. very upset actually. turns out his friend of a few years is not only an attention seeker, but also such a pervert. he mindlessly watched a few parts of wonbin's past videos and saw how turned on he was each time the comments would degrade him.

the idea tingled sungchan's mind for days. the side eye he would give wonbin in the morning before he left to work went unnoticed, and it only made him more confident about his decision. for the past few days, sungchan observed wonbin from the little crack in the door, just enough to see his roommate either jerking himself off, humping a pillow or using toys depending on the mood of his chat. he ignored how hard he got watching the humiliation wonbin faced, the tears that dripped from his eyes. and each time sungchan would just grumble to himself and lay on his bed, his head so full of thoughts he can barely sleep anymore.

sungchan is really silent. it's thursday, their movie night day. wonbin is all giddy since he came back from his classes, a smile painting his face. sungchan can't wait to watch it disappear, he can barely hold back when wonbin disappears in his room. he turns off the tv, and all the lights in the living room before sitting back down on the couch. and he waits. he waits until he can hear a high and muffled moan coming from wonbin's room. sungchan had waited enough.

he stands up, walks to his friend's room and opens the door without warning. wonbin is not on live yet, he's just turning himself on slowly by poking the bulge in his shorts. he jumps in surprise and almost fall off his bed when sungchan gets in. he sits cross legged on his bed, his hands covering a little his crotch to make sure sungchan couldn't see his hard length pushing through his clothes. but he can't hide the website that's on his laptop screen and the vibrator that lays behind him on the bed.

"hmm hi sungchan... everything okay?"

"it's thursday. we're supposed to be having a movie night."

"oh. right... well i don't... feel so good, we can do that next time if that's okay?"

"stop lying to my fucking face wonbin."

sungchan's tone catches wonbin off guard, and his breath gets stuck in his throat. a wave of anxiety builds in his stomach and takes away the neediness. what is his friend doing in his room, and what could he want from him at that moment? wonbin watches the door close and he swallows with difficulty. sungchan walks around his roommate's room, he knows exactly what he's looking for. it's bad, he knows it, but he couldn't stop himself from going through wonbin's things when he was out for the past few days.

sungchan easily finds the dark blue ropes that wonbin carefully hides under his bed, and that's when his friend starts getting the hint of what he has in mind. wonbin stands up to take the tight cotton away from his hands, but sungchan pushes him back onto the bed with force.

"so that's what you do when i'm waiting for you and you don't even tell me? i can't believe i was even worried for you while you're acting like a bitch in front of a camera? now take your clothes off i'm gonna show your followers how much of a slut you are."

sungchan's eyes travel the website and look around for the livestreaming option. he clicks on the button, the red dot of the camera turns on, and the dark room appears on the screen. wonbin sits on his knees, naked, his hands behind his back. his head is low with genuine shame, but when comments start flowing and money drop on the inbox, he gets more confident. he's tied to the point he can't move unless sungchan helps him. his hands on his back, the dark cotton surrounding his chest and rubbing on his nipples then up his neck, tight just enough to make his breath painful. the ropes dig into the skin of his thighs that he parts as much as possible so it wouldn't make contact with his balls that are already overly sensitive. the knot around his lower stomach has his hard dick resting on it, his transparent arousal dripping on his skin.

sungchan reads a few comments without a look at wonbin that wiggles on the bed. he can be seen on the livestream, but he doesn't show his face, only his veiny arms and hands appear on the screen when he grabs roughly grabs wonbin's face to make him look at the camera.

"isn't that everyone's favorite whore... he's prettily tied up for you, isn't he?"

anonymous user gave you a tip : what is going on rn

anonymous user gave you a tip : ???????

anonymous user gave you a tip : that's so hot of him please make him cry

"you have such demanding fans wonbin, they all want to see how messed up you can get."

sungchan lets go of wonbin's face. his roommate won't even look at him, but he can't ignore how much his cock throb just having sungchan spitting venom at him. he tries again to free his hands but can only shifts a little more on his knees, his tip rubbing against the dark blue rope that's around his stomach. the sensation makes his hips shake and buck up, desperate for more friction he needs so badly. sungchan is quick to stop him with a light slap on his thigh that makes wonbin whimper.

sungchan follows the comments' directives. he wants wonbin's chat to see how far he could go for them and for his own pleasure. he grabs the black vibrator wonbin has used so many times and turns it on. when he shows it to the camera, the tingling noise of the money being dropped on the livestream gets faster. it convinces sungchan to go further. he walks up to wonbin and stands next to him, he makes sure he's not blocking the view. with the edge of the vibrator, he makes wonbin look up at the screen again, his face already flushed with anticipation.

sungchan travels wonbin's body with the vibrating head of the toy, he spends a while on the pointed nipples that are already red from being rubbed over the cotton rope. his roommate cries out, his chest heaves so fast, the dark cords digging into the skin and leaving delicious pink burns. he makes its way lower, pushing the vibrator on his stomach. wonbin's thighs shake, he can only whine, he feels pathetic. but he loves it. he loves the forced eye contact sungchan makes him have with the camera. he can see all the comments telling him how fucked he looks and it turns him on even more.

the vibrations slowly reach wonbin's hard cock and it makes him jerk up instantly. sungchan has the edge of the black toy resting at the base of his dick, he watches it bounce, the beads of precum hitting the sheets. he grabs one of the rope with his free hand to make sure wonbin would stop wiggling around, and he makes the vibrator go up his length until he reaches the tip. the chat is going too fast for him, he needs to get up and choose comments by himself, and as he checks out some of the users' words, he ignores the boy tied on the bed. wonbin cries loudly, his hips trembling with pleasure, the toy rubbing his slit over and over again. he can feel his orgasm already building up and way too fast.

sungchan finally sees wonbin throwing his head back on the screen and he takes the toy away. a sob escapes his roommate's lips, his pulsating tip so red and his throbbing dick almost painful. sungchan just scoffs at him, taunting him in such a cruel way with the vibrator. the anger on wonbin's face is mixed with desperation, his cheeks glistening with his tears.

"did you think it was going to be that easy? don't you usually listen to your chat like a good boy?"

anonymous user gave you a tip : poor little wonbin

sungchan hits playfully wonbin's cock with the vibrator, it makes him moan a little louder each time. all he can do is babbles incoherent words, the denial of his orgasm makes the pleasure so painful his head spins, his mind is foggy. he can barely keep his eyes open, his head dropping low. sungchan's hand reaches wonbin's hair, he yanks his head back up and another cry escapes his roommate's throat. the overwhelming sensation of his hair being pulled is new to him but he can feel his release building up again at the feeling of sungchan's rough fingers grabbing his long black locks. his hair get tugged on a little more and it cuts his breath.

anonymous user gave you a tip : is that how you beg for it? you can do better than that.

anonymous user gave you a tip : awww will he ever get to cum, poor little whore...

"can you read that wonbin? or are you crying too hard? your chat wants you to beg for it. come on, make it worth it for them, ask them to cum since you want it so badly."

it takes a while for wonbin to gather his thoughts, his breath is broken with sobs and the noise of the vibrator is making him dizzy. he wants to look down, but sungchan's tight grip on his long hair forces him to arch his back and look right into the red dot on his camera. he can see himself on the screen and the massive figure of his roommate next to him. once again, he looks so pathetic.

"pl- please... c-can i please cum... i w-wanna cum it hurts i-it's so... s-so much i need it please p-please..."

"that's a little too easy like that."

"sungch-"

"don't dare saying my name on your fucking stream. now you better try harder or i'm leaving you like that."

"i- i-i need to cum s-so badly i'm s-such a slut... i w-want it... p-please i- i'm in so much pain pl-please make me cum..."

his words are directed to his audience but also to his roommate, his voice broken by desperate whines. sungchan holds the toy close to his throbbing cock and he watches it twitch with anticipation. wonbin bucks his hips to meet the vibrations and it only brushes his tip but it's more than enough to make the pleasure explode inside wonbin's stomach. his dick pulses with each rope of the hot fluid, covering his thighs and the edge of the toy. sungchan pushes it down the length and wonbin jerks up once again, his body arching into the delicious frictions. the contact is making him drool, it drips down his chin along with the tears that already wetted his neck. the dark blue rope that contains his hands feel even more tight each time he tries to free himself.

wonbin wants to get away from the heavy vibrations sent through his already sensitive cock, it hurts him, it hurts him so good he can't even think anymore. only sungchan tugging on his hair to make sure he keeps his head up to show on the livestream keep him in touch with reality. he feels himself twitching again as another wave of pleasure rushes over him. more cum spills from his slit, down his length until it drops on the sheets.

"n-no m-more... st-stop..."

it's only when his third orgasm hits him that sungchan decides to take the toy away. he turns it off and throws it on the bed. since he let go of wonbin's hair, his roommate just dropped his face into the bed, still lost in the overwhelming stimulation that sent shivers to his spine. sungchan cuts the live, and unties each knot. wonbin's hands that are now free just fall down on the sheets next to him, the red marks left by the dark blue cords covering his glistening skin. now satisfied by his work, sungchan leaves wonbin alone with his thoughts, face flushed and breath ragged.

sungchan walks into his room and closes the door behind him. the bulge in his sweatpants is becoming more and more difficult to ignore, each step makes him a little harder. he sits at his desk and turns on his gaming computer, massaging himself through his underwear inside his pants. he knows exactly what he's looking for once the screen lit up.

jvngsvngch4n is live !

THAT WAS KINDA CRAZY 🤓☝🏻 sungchan is much meaner than i expected at first (i would do anything mean dom sungchan asks me tbh) sorry for anyone who wanted camboy wonbin x reader btw this popped in my mind and i couldn't get it out of my head lol

#riize smut #wonbin smut #sungchan smut

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manicpixiefelix · 8 months ago

Text

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 20.

Summary: The evening of the Arts Collective dinner somehow gets even worse for you as Farleigh gives you some unfortunate news about Oliver and Venetia and their moonlight exploits. The worst part is having to figure out a way to break the news to Felix.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: angst, mentions of childhood/ongoing parental neglect.

A/N: 3729 words. I finally cracked it!! Figured out the ending!! Sorry for the delay I was busy writing 20k about Jacob Elordi being hot and mean which I will never publish (Euphoria, a show I STILL have not watched beyond like 20 minutes of clips on YouTube lol). Anyways I've missed you and these characters and hopefully 21 won't be too far away xx (also I started my new job so that's been exciting but also Ooft ouch my bones hurt)

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

For a day that was already pretty damn shit, Oliver's cruelty was like salt in the wound. Hand still on the doorknob after you close it, you listen to him retreating over the ringing in your ears. If you let go, you'll see your hands shake, so you're frozen, heart in your throat, the house growing quiet around you. It's familiar, but unwelcome in this moment.

Tears well in your eyes as you sit back at the desk, computer humming pleasantly, bathing you in a cool glow. Part of you was desperate to run after him, to oblige him, to reveal every inch of your past and soul to him, hoping he was true to his word. That he could actually care about you in a way that very few have ever bothered to. That he could love you the way Felix did.

I don't know you.

An even stronger part of you wanted to run right across the hall, to bury yourself beneath the covers of your bed, safe and waiting for Felix. Surely he'd be back soon, if Oliver's return indicated anything. You hadn't heard him return, but it wouldn't be long. But how were you meant to look at him, lie next to him, even touch him, after all of that. It had been easy to bite your tongue on your disappointment so far, knowing that like so many others, Oliver's love for you thus far had been merely as a proxy for Felix himself. You knew Felix was vaguely aware that that was how others sometimes viewed you, but you'd always been eager to assure him that as long as he genuinely cared about you, and the others were good to you, you'd be more than happy.

And that used to be true. But none of the others were Oliver. Felix knew you loved the boy just as genuinely as he was coming to, you could never tell him that your affections were not as genuinely returned.

Your pride held you hostage in this room on both accounts.

When you finally raise your head from your hands, scrubbing unspilled tears from your eyes, you try and focus yourself once more on rereading the email that had already put you in a foul mood before Oliver had made it worse. It had taken all afternoon to detach yourself from it's contents, especially knowing your mother was waltzing about the grounds, spoiling your sanctuary.

The details of an official nondisclosure agreement, sent from your parents' team of lawyers. The paperwork was to arrive in the next few days, but you were being warned ahead of time. Before Oliver had interrupted, you were finally getting to the point of finding it all funny, that they were that insistent on cutting social ties with you that they'd go to almost any lengths that remained discrete, and out of the general public's reach. Now it just... ached.

Felix's heavy footsteps echo through the long gallery outside your study door, but he heads straight into bed. You wonder if it's even worth it to head to bed that night, you can't see yourself getting much sleep.

Now mostly, tragically, sober after you'd spent the afternoon trying to get out of your mind to cope with the day, you wonder if a drink would help put you to sleep, put an end to this abysmal day you'd endured. Which is how Farleigh finds you in the Blue Room, frowning at the bottle of liquor you'd left in the broken piano.

"You're up late," you mused flatly, still trying to decide if it was worth it to drink until you pass out in your study, "how was the -"

"We need to talk," Farleigh's tone is even more irate than you'd expected. Neither he nor the Catton siblings were ever in a particularly bright mood after being forced into any kind of proximity with your mother, and you were always touched by their loyalty, but this was something else.

You lower the piano lid, leaving the liquor for the time being. Turning to look at Farleigh, it's almost shocking to see how dark the look in his eyes was.

"What... happened?" You asked slowly. Farleigh's gaze flicks to the door behind you, to the long gallery and to the entrance to both yours and Oliver's bedrooms. Prying eyes, listening ears, though you were almost certain you'd heard Oliver leave not too long ago. A muscle in Farleigh's jaw twitches, and you instead offer your study for some privacy.

"You're not going to like it," is the first thing Farleigh tells you once the study door is closed. He sounds furious. Turning off your computer monitor, you choose to sit yourself on the sofa by the window, looking at him expectantly.

"This day's been a fucking nightmare already, I'm sure I can handle it," you rolled your eyes. Farleigh, however, chooses to sit at your desk, sideways on the chair, rather than joining you.

"You told Oliver not to fuck around with Venetia, didn't you?" It's unsettling to see Farleigh so serious. Still, his words have something twisting in your gut, even as you tried to play it off.

"Of course I did."

"Then tell me why I saw them practically eating each other on the front fucking lawn."

It's like you can feel the moment your blood turns to ice in your veins.

"This isn't funny," your lip curls, but Farleigh's severity remains, "this is a sick fucking joke, Farleigh, and a shitty thing to try and pull today of all goddamn days," your voice is rising, but he lets your fury build, uninterrupted.

"It would be an awful joke," he agreed, "if I was joking." All of the hopelessness that had plagued you since Oliver had left began to crystalise, calcifying into rage as his words settled in, "I don't care about Oliver," Farleigh's gaze shifted for a moment, still tense and furious, but there was something very nearly apologetic in his next words, "but unfortunately for me and for you right now, I care about you and Felix."

"Felix." Oh God. This couldn't be happening again. You'd told Oliver; you'd warned him. The fucking nerve!

"Yeah," Farleigh mutters quietly, "and you're going to be the one to tell him." When you try and protest, you're met with a sharp glare, and a stern reminder of how this exact situation had been reversed only twelve months ago over Eddie, "I'm not doing that again," Farleigh warned, "you owe me."

"Fine," you spit, "fuck, I'll tell him," hands shaking, you light up a cigarette. Farleigh stands, but hovers by your desk for a moment.

"He really knows how to pick them," He muses flatly.

"Shocking taste in men," scowling our of the window, your agreement is nonetheless irate, "fucking unbelievable," you hissed under your breath, "and he thinks there's something wrong with me?"

"There is," Farleigh's words surprise you, stinging a little, all things considered, "you fell for that stupid, little boy too," he reminds with a particularly vicious look.

"So it's my fault I have to break Felix's heart?"

"I'm saying that you've given me a lot of attitude for not liking him, but Oliver wouldn't even be here without both of you."

"Get the fuck out of my study, Farleigh," you order, pointing at the door, cigarette in hand and fury in your eyes.

The anger bubbling in your gut is beginning to burn. A thousand things are racing through your mind; top of the list is wondering just how quickly you make sure he's never welcomed back at Oxford. All you'd need was your computer and an hour to ruin Oliver Quick's entire life; you'd done it before. But if you turned that monitor on, if you had to once again look at that fucking email from your family - not even your family, their lawyers! - you think you might throw up. Tomorrow, with a clear head, you'd make your move.

And you'd tell Felix. No need to wake him now, give him a few hours to still live in the fantasy where the boy he was falling in love with wasn't once again going after his sister. Fuck- Venetia.

The more you thought about it all the more frenzied your outrage became. She wasn't innocent in this either, she never was. Venetia Catton was more than adept at finding both yours and her brother's exact pressure points and pressing with vehemence. So desperate to be loved yet so unable to come across as anything but insatiable, she'd always taken what she could get. You were good, but clearly you weren't enough to distract her from new, shiny Oliver.

The taste of smoke sticks to your teeth, as does your sour contemplation on how little the people you tried to love respected you. Or Felix. Christ, how were you meant to tell Felix?

Except you can't even really begin to contemplate how you'll break the news when you hear footsteps across the gallery.

Felix doesn't even knock - not that he ever has - before he lets himself in. You thought you'd have more time; the anger still burns white-hot inside of you, but despair and guilt flickers at the edges. He looks about as rough as you feel, concern and ebbing irritation in his expression. Of course, he'd spent the evening in the presence of your mother; none of the others ever felt nearly as much ire in her presence as he did.

Without a word, he strides across the room, all but pouting, and throws himself onto the sofa beside you. Drawing his legs up onto the sofa, he makes himself as small as possible - quite a task considering his size compared to the small, squashy sofa - and leans against you, head on your shoulder.

"Hate that woman," he hisses under his breath. You know he means your mother, but your mind is on his deceitful sister. All you can think about is Venetia and Oliver, but you can't very well tell Felix now. You don't have the words to not make everything so much worse if you tried. Already you'd decided to tell him in the morning, but right now you had to keep him from figuring out what was bothering you. Or that you were bothered at all.

So you decide to take a leaf out of Felix's own book, keep him happy and distracted in the way you knew best.

"Bad night?" Your voice is low as you move your arm back, fingers carding through his hair. The way Felix hums is still dark, but he shifts closer to you. After another moment of quiet, he huffs an irate breath out through his nose and begins to pluck at the hem of your shorts.

"Can I maim your mum the next time I see her?"

"She's not worth going to jail over," you tell him, leg shifting into his touch. Felix's hand stops fussing with your shorts to grip your thigh.

"You are," he huffs resolutely, and even despite your own anger you smile.

"My knight in shining armour," you laugh softly, lips against his forehead, "but do you really want to be so far away?" Leaning back against him, your hand moves from his hair to graze your nails down his bare arm, hoping he takes the hint. Thankfully, he does. The warm grip on your thigh tightens, and when he turns to look at you, there's something hungry in his eyes, "she's not worth your time, Fi," it comes out almost as a snarl, a truth you believe even in the depths of your own, otherwise mostly unrelated anger, but you turn your tone teasing, smirking at him, "I just choose to think about how I was apparently on your mind all night."

"I'm always thinking about you," he almost sounds a little breathless as he says it, managing to sit up more properly without moving away. You let your gaze flick to his lips before going back to look him in the eyes. Tongue darting out to wet your lips, you tilt your head very slightly, beginning to smile.

"And what are you think about me now?"

You'd always quietly loved whenever Felix was feeling possessive, and now moreso than ever. It made distracting him easy and fun, and Felix himself, his hands as he pulled you over to straddle his lap, to hold you close, to cradle your face as he kissed you so furiously, it was almost enough to distract you too. In all honesty, it was the only good thing to have happened all day, though even this was coloured by guilt, knowing what you still had to tell him when you found the right words.

However suddenly, Felix pulls back wearing a frown. For a few moments you find yourself catching your breath, confused, arms still around his neck.

"Something's wrong," it's not a question.

"Nothing's wrong," you lie, and hope it's more convincing them his usually are, "nothing at all," you hum, and move back in to press kisses to his jaw, hoping it's enough of a distraction to trail those kisses down his neck.

"You're angry about something," damn it. Of course Felix knows you too well.

"Am I?" You want to keep the ruse up for as long as you can manage, "and what would that be?" You murmured before you're sucking a beautiful, bruising hickey against his neck.

"I don't -" but his breath catches, grip on you tightening. It almost works; he swears faintly under his breath, losing himself in the moment and leaning into you, but then he actually seems to shake himself out of it, "come off it," he sighs, and you sit up, trying your best to appear both confused, and still in the mood, "if I'm not allowed to do this, neither are you." He says pointedly. Even though you're fighting a losing battle, you still lean in, still try and distract him with your mouth on his.

"Do what?" You murmur, nose to nose as you peck him quickly, desperately trying to keep your tone light and teasing. But you can see it in his eyes before he even says it; he knows exactly what you're doing.

"Distracting me because you know how fucking hot I think you are."

"And if I was," you murmured, pressing yourself against him, "why would that be such a bad thing?"

"Because you're being evasive," Felix pushed you back, held you at arm's length as your expression began to drop, fury beginning to creep back in as you remembered what exactly it is you didn't want to tell him, "you're not evasive with me;" he insists, "everyone else, sure, but this - whatever this is - is.. it's- it feels weird. This isn't you!"

"What am I then, Felix?"

"Mine!" He answered far too quickly, frustration sling out of him, but appears to catch himself, correcting to, "my best mate, alright? You don't not tell me things."

"So if there is something I'm not telling you, can you not trust that I might have a reason?" Finally your anger bursts from you, furious in the evening light. Felix has gone quiet, shocked; it's been a long time since you'd yelled at him like this. He looks wounded, apologetic, something you're not used to. Climbing off of him, you stand, you have to give yourself some distance from him, "there's a lot I don't tell you, Fi," you sighed, expression pinching as you tried to force yourself to calm down.

"You can tell me anything," Felix's voice has softened, leaning forward on the sofa. It aches to look at him, to see him so beautiful and vulnerable in these moments, "you know that."

"I know," you agreed, "it's not that I can't tell you, it's that I don't want to," you pressed the heels of your palms to your eyes, groaning; you can't look him in the eyes, can't even look at him right now, "and I will, that's the thing; I'm going to tell you, you're right, I always do, I just -" in a moment of weakness, your voice comes out almost sounding pitiful, defeated and frustrated, "I thought I had more time."

"What's wrong?" Felix asks softly. When you laugh, there's no humour in it. The more the reality of your situation sinks in, the more the fight leaves you.

"It's going to make you angry, or upset, or probably both," you sound rather helpless when you say it, but it seems like you no longer have a choice in when you get to tell him.

"Is it your mum?"

"I wish it was my mum," you shook your head, finally moving your hands to shake them out as you stepped back, leaning back against your desk with defeat. With every moment that passes you can feel Felix's gaze upon you, burning into you. When you are upset, he will never relent until he finds the source; usually it would be a gift, make you feel wanted and special and like you actually mattered for once. But this knowledge feels like a curse.

"We could run away," it's a last resort, barely more than a mutter as you look at your hands.

"What?"

"Just us," you continue, fidgeting, unable to look at Felix and the concern you knew you'd see in his eyes, "I could get us a little apartment in some artsy, London suburb," it's not going to work, not going to distract him, to keep him from prying the information from you that you know will hurt him, but it's all you have left, "you know nan would help us out, she'd kill for me. We could do whatever we wanted, never have to work a day in our lives. We could be whoever we wanted, wouldn't have to live in a house where they'd rather we die of heat stroke than ruin the wood panelling with an air conditioner," all you can think about is how you fell for a boy who didn't love you the way you hoped he would, and turned out couldn't even really respect you, "never have to go back to Oxford."

"What happened?" Standing, Felix crosses the short distance to your desk. There's so much sweetness in his voice as he sits in the desk chair beside you, looking up at you with his damn perfect brown eyes.

"I can't let this happen again, Fi," you hadn't even realised you were close to tears until it becomes harder to speak, "I tried, I fucking tried, I told him -"

"Who?"

"Ollie," you sniffled, face growing hot as you couldn't stop your tears from beginning to fall, "I warned him not to go near Venetia- I just- I can't believe she'd do this again, that Ollie couldn't respect when I ask him this one thing -"

"Ollie and Venetia?" There's an unsettling, blank quality to Felix's voice. The look in his eyes is far away and ice cold.

"Apparently hooking up on the front lawn," you clarified, voice weak, trying to wipe the tears from your eyes, derision edging it's way back into your voice as some of the anger returns, "for God, and Farleigh to bare witness," you took in a deep, shaking breath, attempting to pull yourself together, "I tried, Fi -"

"Fucking unbelievable," Felix snarls furiously, getting to his feet, "both of them- fuck, was Farleigh sure? He wasn't making some sick joke?"

"Even Farleigh wouldn't fuck with us like that," you muttered darkly, before adding, quiet, sounding actually pained with frustration, "I've been nothing but good to them, Fi, I thought -"

"You are never touching my sister again," Felix cuts you off firmly, voice forcibly calm. Surprised both by his tone and his words, you look up; he's so much closer than you'd realised The look in your best friend's eyes almost overwhelms you; protective, possessive, "I'm not watching her treat you like that anymore," he braces himself against the desk either side of you, crowding you against it.

"Fi," your barely manage a whisper, heartbeat racing in your chest, "I..." for just a moment he looks almost pained, and he hangs his head, faint, humourless laugh escaping him.

"I have to watch you fuck around with people who would barely give you the time of day; you're so fucking good it kills me sometimes," he bites out; you can't tell him that you know they're just using you, that so many people simply entertain the idea of you as a way to stay in Felix's life. Even if he'd never admit it, Felix knows. There's very little in his life that he's ever felt the need to reflect on, and even less that he feels any particular guilt about. You used to think he was fine with this arrangement, that he knew you could find the fun in these one-sided dynamics, "they're fucking using you," he grits out, but you're surprised by the way his fury almost sounds like despair, "I watch them and they're fucking using you like you're not even a person, Y/N."

Felix looks up; the looks in his eyes is more serious than you think you've ever seen from him. Deliberately, firmly, he takes your face in his hands.

"You're not my shadow, you know that, right?"

For a very long moment, you think you feel your heartbeat stop in your chest. On the surface it's a completely ridiculous question, except...

Feeling your face grow hot, you know he can see you tearing up; Felix has always known you better than anyone, always known exactly what you seem to need to hear. Nodding weakly, caught, pinned by his intense gaze, his focus on you, your lip trembles. Already fraught with emotions from the day, and the evening that had just passed, you have no fucking idea what to say. Felix has never spoken this out loud, never let himself properly wrestle with the subtext that coloured so much of your dynamic; it flickers across his face, the surprise and guilt and realisation as it hits him what he'd just said.

You are so much more to him than anyone else will ever give you credit for.

You are not his shadow, but you are unequivocally his.

So you kiss him.

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #felix catton x reader #saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #oliver quick x reader #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick x y/n #oliver quick x you #felix catton smut #head heart hand fic #manic writer

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