#and i just dont think there’s anything more to write rn like there’s Nothing that i can get oit of myself anymore 😭 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shuastar · 6 months ago

Text

ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴡɪɴᴇᴅ -- ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ .4 (JWW)

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴀʀᴄʜᴅᴜᴋᴇ!ᴡᴏɴᴡᴏᴏ x ᴀʀᴄʜᴅᴜᴄʜᴇꜱꜱ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴡᴄ: 10.2k (oops) warnings: cursing? hot wonwoo, obsessed wonwoo, a lot of tears (this entire thing is more of an angst than anything); y/n acts kind of annoyingly but its all for the plot i promise ᴀ/ɴ: i'm flying back and forth to and from korean rn bc i'm done w midterms rn!! sorry for the delay!! ALSO IM SO PROUD OF SEVENTEEN FOR WINNING 2 DAESANGS OMG; im also trying to go through requests at the same time so if i like dont answer for a while i promise im writing it!! just wait!! anyways, ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ʙᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ᴘʟꜱ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴀᴛ ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ <3

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ; ɴᴇxᴛ

Wonwoo

Wonwoo would not consider himself a greedy or jealous man.

No, of course not. Why would he be when he could have everything he wanted in the palm of his hands? When he was the Archduke?

But the sight of her in the winter market roads, dressed too-thinly for the cold biting air of the evening pushes into his chest a stabbing sort of pain he cannot really place. And the sudden tension he feels from her presence, does nothing to ease the tsunami of emotions crashing into his chest.

The festive winter market of the Capital. The common festive winter market of the Capital. Never had he ever thought of bumping into y/n in the streets of the Capital – without a guard, no less. Although, he thinks, Mingyu serves more than enough of a guard for tonight. He knows that his thoughts are too bitter – too bitter, considering everything she has said, everything she has gone through because of him. Yet, he cannot stop the bile rising in his throat and his fists clenching by his sides as he only watches from the side.

The familiar, homey scents of warm cider and baked pies mingle with the cold evening air and sprinkles of snow fall around him, yet he can’t seem to pay attention to the stand owners who call for his attention.

He swallows as Y/n moves from the winter flower stall to a jewelry stall. He tries to ignore the way Mingyu laughs at her side, shoulder bumping hers and hand going up to pull her cloak over her head. He tries to ignore the unfamiliar flame of what seems to be anger, regret, or something in between, stoke the fires of his heart, as Y/n simply laughs. And it hurts. It hurts so much because she never laughed like that around him. At least, not since his return.

He cannot even begin to put into words how gorgeous she looks under the yellow lantern lights and the blinkings of the market stalls. He has just barely enough capacity to recognize how the deep greens and golds of her dress blend in rather unassumingly with the commoners also walking the snowy road. How different she looks when she is far from the palace walls that seem to have always guarded her independent spirit. How joyous she looks when she stares at a piece of jewelry in her hands, fingers running over the blue sapphire in the middle. The gem hangs from the thin gold chain delicately and he can’t help but think how pretty she would look in it.

He can’t hear the conversation, but he can see Mingyu lean down (curse him for his height), and also inspect the necklace that she is now holding up to his face.

When Y/n tilts her head, a soft smile gracing her features, Wonwoo’s heart clenches. Almost painfully. Painfully because he recognizes that smile – the smile that used to be locked away only for him when they shared late night tea in his parlor, when he gifted you a diamond-encrusted bangle for your eighteenth birthday, when he danced with you for your debutante, when he went boating with you on a random Thursday afternoon.

Painful because now you are staring up at Mingyu with the same look, some kind of unspoken familiarity in your eyes that he seems to have missed because it sure as fuck wasn’t there when he had left.

At your head tilt, Mingyu leans forward and says something too quiet to catch. But it makes you laugh – loud, brilliant, clear-cut like the most expensive of diamonds. It catches the attention of the people around you and they smile too. And he would if not for the twisting feeling of a knife in his gut because your carefree laugh he only ever heard in the privacy of the night, days ago, flows so naturally when you are with Mingyu.

What the fuck did he even say?

It’s a bitter sort of rage. More directed towards himself than anything. But he pins the blame on the prince, opting for an easier way to divulge it fully. It’s easier that way – anger to yourself is easier to let out when directed another way.

The knife’s presence exponentially sharpens and his throat feels weirdly scratchy when Mingyu gently touches your hand, taking the necklace out of your palm and placing into it a more extravagant piece. Your fingers brush. He can see it from where he is. And he can also see you look up at Mingyu in surprise at his sudden touch – no gloves, too. Were you worried about scandals with Mingyu? He wants to scoff at himself at being this ridiculous, but some shallow part of him wants to yell out your name and whisk you away. Away from Mingyu, away from the market, away from the Capital. To somewhere he can take a deep breath and just let you know. Let you know how much he-

“-Oh, I don’t know, Gyu,” you sigh.

Wonwoo is surprised at how close his feet had led him to you. If he takes a couple more steps, he can reach out and brush your hair from your shoulders.

Mingyu just smiles, canines biting down into his bottom lip. “What do you mean? It’s gorgeous. Matches your eyes ‘n everything, duchess.” He gives you a small little wink. It’s teasing, Wonwoo knows. It’s done in passing, which he also knows. But it stirs the pot of bubbling frustration (and jealousy) in his stomach like nothing had ever before.

And it doesn’t simmer, especially when you just laugh at Mingyu’s words, leaning into his presence to roam your eyes around on other jewels.

The only thing good to come out of that was your hand slowly letting the bracelet you were holding slip back onto the table.

Good. It didn’t suit you anyways.

You need something less flashy. More elegant and timeless. You are breathtaking enough.

He only watches, under the pretense of his hood and perusing through an antique stall, as Mingyu hands you another piece, fingers brushing. Again.

Wonwoo grits his teeth.

It’s something small – something that would have gone unnoticed by everyone else. But to him? To him, it feels mocking, almost patronizing and belittling.

You could have been in his place, it almost says. You could have been the one brushing fingers, tossing an arm around her shoulders, teasing her, laughing with her, buying her jewelry in the Capital night market. Buying her anything she wished for.

Mingyu’s ease with you, the natural way you just take up the space next to him, grates on Wonwoo’s nerves to the last degree.

Do you two even realize how you look to others? To him?

Do you realize how his heart clenches at the scene of Mingyu repeatedly suggesting jewelry Wonwoo knows you don’t like, only for you to laugh off his sulking comments about how you and he just don’t have the same taste in exquisite things?

Have you realized the meaning behind his flowers? His three words he had finally finalized in writing after countless sleepless nights’ worth of letters and love-essays?

The urge to step forward claws at him – to insert himself, force himself, into the situation – to reclaim some part of your attention he is vying for. But he can’t. He can’t bring his feet to move from their place nor his eyes to move from how you just glance back at your original necklace you chose, studying its gem and masterful metal work. He can’t. Not here. And definitely not now. Still, the thought of walking away feels equally impossible, as if leaving would signify some sort of defeat.

Wonwoo’s breath clouds the cold air, but he doesn’t notice. He has to force himself to take a step back – back and back and back until he has some reasonable amount of distance between you and Mingyu’s merry little party of two. His gloved hand raises to his chest and pressed hard, as if doing so would stop the chaotic, frantic beating of the muscle. His fingers curl into his coat and he desperately wants to hand you his jacket – wants to place the thick fur over your slightly shivering shoulders (something he tells himself Mingyu would not do, except he knows Mingyu would) – wants to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you close until your cheeks flush in embarrassment at the proximity. He wants to embrace you from behind, placing his chin on your shoulder as you ramble on about the kind of jewelry you like, without knowing that he already knows. He wants to kiss you dizzyingly under the soft snow and cut off your pure sort of laughter. He wants to make you smile and laugh and then smile again just because you were with him. He wants to buy you bouquets of flowers just because he thought of you and send them to your royal advisory meetings. He wants to do those things and more, yet he wills himself to keep composure.

Not the time, he repeats to himself. Not the time.

She deserves her laughter, he tells himself, though the thought is bitter. Even if it’s not mine to share yet.

And although he wishes it would, the pain does not fade. It lingers in his chest cavity, raw and all-consuming, all-knowing, as he stands there, watching your joy seep into someone else’s laughter. And as Mingyu leans in even closer (terribly ungentleman-like, Wonwoo convinces himself), offering you yet another comment that coaxes yet another bubbly laugh, Wonwoo finally forces himself to turn away.

He feels a tightness in his chest and a strange thudding in his heart as he stands there, fists clenching as he tries to forget.

Forget the pain, forget the tears building up, forget what your absence turns him into.

The crisp night air bites at Wonwoo’s cheeks as he and Soonyoung approach the royal mansion. He would have much rather preferred if Seungcheol had held the Charity Ball in the actual royal palace, but the king had decided to move the venue to a “less extravagant” area, which was only a street down from the palace. So Wonwoo wasn’t too sure what Seungcheol was trying to accomplish except to freeze his palace guests to death as they walked over to the mansion.

As the tips of the open arched gates could be seen through the winter night’s haze, a warm glow upon the two of them, the mansion’s many windows spillions beacons of golden onto the welcoming courtyard, frozen over with snow. Already, there were many footprints that lined the fallen white carpet, melting the small ice flowers into water again.

The manor’s golden warmth made the cold knot in his stomach twist further. Beside him, Soonyoung walks with an easy stride – seemingly unaffected by the wintry air or the tension Wonwoo knows he is radiating.

“You’ve been awfully quiet tonight” Soonyoung suddenly says, tone half-teasing, words hanging in the air for Wonwoo to jump and catch in his mouth. “Trying to strategize your grand entrance?”

Wonwoo doesn’t respond, focus already blurring at the edges. His fingers toy with the edges of his scarf.

Soonyoung casts a sidelong glance at him. “You’re impossible,” he mumbles as he simply flashes his royal knight badge at the soldiers guarding the gate, strolling along. The white of the falling snow blends in nicely with his blonde head of hair.

“Are you not looking forward to another night of forced smiles and silent judging on your part?” Soonyoung cracks a teasing grin, bumping Wonwoo’s shoulder.

However, when Wonwoo stays silent, face shadowed as his gaze locks on the mansion, Soonyoung’s grin falters.

“You okay?” A slant of worry in his voice does not escape Wonwoo and he feels almost guilty for worrying his closest friend.

Wonwoo swallows, shaking his head as if that would wake him from his trance. “Yes. Yeah, I am. Why would I not be?” He forces a laugh from the confines of his tight throat. It sounds almost hysteric to his ears – as if he was on his last straw. Soonyoung knows, too.

Soonyoung’s eyebrows furrow as he places a firm hand on Wonwoo’s shoulder, stopping him in his place. He turns Wonwoo to face him. “Why? Is it because of her?”

Wonwoo falters in his forced grin. Just barely. But it’s enough for Soonyoung to notice.

“Ah,” Soonyoung sighs, clicking his tongue, “so I’m right.” Soonyoung smirks, eyes lighting up in interest but it drops when he realizes the tightness on Wonwoo’s face. “Why the-” he cuts himself off with a gasp. “Wait, please don’t tell me you did something stupid.”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, lightly shoving Soonyoung away. “Shut up, man,” he mumbles, running a hand through his hair. “If you don’t have anything useful to say, I’m going inside.” Wonwoo resumes his walk down the snow-ridden aisle, down the middle of the courtyard.

Soonyoung groans. “Wonwoo!” His footsteps are light against the snow as he jogs to catch up with Wonwoo’s wide strides. “You did something, right? What did you do? Huh? What was it? You were literally with me for the entirety of last week!” Soonyoung whines, almost hanging off of Wonwoo’s arm, earning another eye roll from Wonwoo. “Was it bad? How did she react, huh? Why, it couldn’t have been that bad, right?”

Soonyoung jabs his finger at Wonwoo’s ribs, repeating the same phrases over and over until they reach the entrance of the mansion, huge golden doors guarded by two valets.

Wonwoo sighs, massaging his temple. “Will you shut up, please? It’s nothing, okay?” To the valet, he hands two pieces of papers, written on them the required name and title announcements of the night.

Soonyoung stubbornly shakes his head. “You did something. What was it?” he presses as the valets swing open the doors.

Wonwoo is quiet as his name, along with Soonyoung’s is read out loud for the entire mansion to hear. From his position at the front door, he can see how Seungcheol had turned the entire first parlor of the mansion into a ballroom of sorts. Near the end of the welcoming hall are the charity auction items – the blue sapphire jewelry set and the gold-set ruby diadem. At the call of his name, everyone stops, briefly, before staring up at the entrance balcony where he and Soonyoung are.

“What was it?” Soonyoung hisses, jabbing an elbow at Wonwoo’s ribs. Wonwoo grits his teeth at the sharp pain, throwing a side-ways look at Soonyoung.

“Jewelry,” Wonwoo grits out, pushing Soonyoung to start walking down the stairs into the chamber.

Soonyoung gasps, as if Wonwoo had just said something more scandalous like lingerie or an estate. “When?”

“Last Friday.”

“It’s been a week?”

“I suppose.”

Soonyoung scoffs in disbelief. “Unbelievable,” he murmurs, almost to himself. He clutches his chest in faux astonishment, eyes blown wider than necessary. “The great Archduke Jeon gifting jewelry – and flowers, I imagine – to a woman he claims doesn’t even-”

“-I don’t need your commentary, thank you very much,” Wonwoo interrupts, voice hard as he and Soonyoung reach, almost, the bottom of the staircase. His eyes scan the open chamber for a familiar face that almost taunts him like a dream. He can’t even control it. It’s natural, instinctive, almost. He needs to see her. He needs for his heart to stop thudding in his chest, just in case this time, she leaves him. Like he left her.

From next to Wonwoo, Soonyoung lets out a rather loud sigh. “You’re impossible, you know that?” he mutters under his breath. “You send her gifts in secret, pine after her like a lost puppy, and then show up to events like this – which you don’t even like – expecting… What? That she’ll somehow tap into her telepathic reserves and read your desperate mind?” Soonyoung tuts, shaking his head, starting to part with Wonwoo. “Man up, Wonwoo, come on. If you want her that bad, do something.”

Wonwoo says nothing, his jaw tightening painfully as his teeth grit against each other and his fingers fist at his sides.

If Wonwoo had to see another fucking interaction between you and Mingyu that ended in laughter from your side, he was going to bust a vein. Most likely the one that was likely protruding from his neck. If he had to sit in the stupid fucking ballroom watching your gorgeous face scrunch up in delight at what someone else says to you, he was going to lose his shit. Here and now, no regrets.

Well, maybe a little regret. But mostly no regrets.

His eyes trace your figure as you return back to your table, draped in a rich crimson cloth, occupied by a small group (that deep-down, he felt hurt not being invited into): Joshua’s wife, laughing and fan fluttering in animated conversation with Seungcheol, Joshua, who simply leans back in his chair, arm draped over the back of his wife’s chair, you, with your dazzling twinkle in your eyes and the way the light reflected – refracted – off of almost every part of you, and Mingyu.

Mingyu makes him freeze. The prince leans in ever-so-slightly, a teasing smile dancing on the corners of his lips as he whispers something in your ear that makes you blush like a virgin, lightly slapping his upper arm in protest at his words. Wonwoo tries his best to not walk up and intervene because who was he to decide what you do with your life? He didn’t see you as a duty, thus he doesn’t need to intervene whenever someone is-

Mingyu leans back in his gold-draped chair, a casual arm thrown over the back of your. It’s not the act in itself that bothers Wonwoo (although it does), it’s the way Mingyu’s fingertips drum against your upper arm. Your bare upper arm. Your bare upper arm that should be clean of anyone’s touch (except for his). The prince reaches into his coat pocket, brandishing something akin to a box – neatly wrapped, twinkling under the low light.

Wonwoo can’t really see your face from where he is – on the other side of the shorter hall, arms crossed, and leaning against a wall – but he can see that you tilt your head, a scrunch of your brows as you probably ask Mingyu what he was giving you.

Mingyu shrugs, an easy grin on his face, and places the box in your hands, opening the top. Wonwoo sees your eyes widen in surprise, which makes Joshua, his wife, and even Seungcheol lean forward to see what it is that Mingyu had the audacity to give you.

When you bring it out of the box, Wonwoo has to admit the quality of the gift. It’s a handkerchief, embroidered with amazing detail and an intricate floral pattern. He can make out your initials on the corner and the studded pearls that line the other corner in small mother-of-pearl flowers.

For a while, you’re silent and Wonwoo thinks you’re going to shove it back in the box and place it back in Mingyu’s pocket. Because that’s what you would do – at least with him.

But then your lips slowly curve up into a soft, genuine smile – the whites of your teeth poking out – and you launch out of your seat, arms suddenly thrown around Mingyu. And Wonwoo can see all of this unfold in absolute slow motion. It’s all in slow motion — from the way you jump up with a small clap to the way you bring Mingyu in a hug that’s so unlike you that even Joshua’s wife blinks in surprise at your sudden movement.

Wonwoo can hear your delighted laughter and “Thank you!” even from where he is. Mingyu looks rather flustered at your sudden embrace but seems to brush it off with a quick laugh and a sheepish grin, mumbling something like “if I knew you would like handkerchiefs so much, I would’ve bought more, duchess.”

God. Wonwoo’s nails presses painfully into his palms when Mingyu leans in again and steals another bout of laughter from your precious mouth. Wonwoo’s chest tightens at the sight. The sight of your joy, so free and unguarded, so genuine, should have been more beautiful. And it is. He thinks you’re the most beautiful person to ever walk this planet and any other – your warm eyes, your pouting lips, your blushed cheeks, your gorgeous peals of laughter, the way you blush under any of his heavy stares. But this time, looking on at you and Mingyu, it filled him with such a shredding visceral sense of loss. A sense of loss at the time he willingly gave up – what you could have been – what you are to him now – what he is to you – what he wants to desperately shout out for the entire world to hear.

The undulations of the orchestra notes slowly faded out gradually as Mingyu stole more laughter from you. And Wonwoo barely even recognized Soonyoung standing next to him, a hand on his shoulder, saying something. But his voice sounds muted, almost like he’s underwater and she’s the only source of pure oxygen that he needs to inhale to live. All he can see is you. You, you, you, you, you. Just like always. Except this time, Mingyu’s next to you, elbowing you, bumping shoulders, brushing fingers, twirling your hair, gifting you handkerchiefs, for Christ’s sake.

And he suddenly finds himself pushing off the wall (and consequently Soonyoung’s arm and his concerned words of “Where the fuck are you going?”), and slowly walking over to the crimson table. He doesn’t notice the curious glances of the other guests as his growing presence becomes the source of whisperings between tables. All he can he is you. You, leaning towards Mingyu, the faintest of blushes barely visibly but fucking unmistakeable. You and red. Dark red as some carnal part of him – a desperate part of him drowning in jealousy – takes over, flashing warning signs across his brain.

With every step he took closer to the two, the room seemed to shift around him – air growing heavier and thicker with tension. Before he could stop himself, Wonwoo was two steps away, jaw clenched, head slightly tilted down, arms crossed. The table instantly falls silent when Joshua looks up and blinks, almost surprised at Wonwoo’s intrusion. Seungcheol straightens in his chair, throwing a questioning mouthing of words at Wonwoo (that he completely misses), and Joshua’s wife darting a glance between himself and Mingyu.

“Is this really necessary?” Wonwoo’s voice is low but it carries. Each word, though he means to not make it so, is clipped and sharp, precise knife points nicking parts of your plush skin. His stormy gaze flickers briefly to Mingyu before fixing on you. It’s easier like this. It feels like he can still reach out and know you’re there. He knows what he might look like – a man without a warrant. And technically, he doesn’t have one. He doesn’t have an extravagant excuse as to why he is suddenly intervening except for the fact that he felt jealous.

The only thing that falters his confidence is the way your face almost immediately drops at his words. Instead, your expression is replaced with something he can’t quite place – surprise, deliberate coldness, and maybe something sharper. Slowly, you rise, your silk gown flowing down your form. He wants to tell you how beautiful you look tonight – how the sage green suits you exceedingly well, how the pearl-drop earrings blend in perfectly with your braided hair tonight – but he notices the necklace that sits in between your collarbones – it’s small, but it’s there. The necklace with the crafted jade and pearl flowers. The one you had periodically gone back to at the Night Market. The one he had, after not-so-deliberate thought, gone up and bought before the end of the night and slipped under your door along with a single tulip.

“I am confused as to why any of this is your concern,” you say evenly, voice quiet but steady.

Those words threaten to crack Wonwoo’s composure. He can feel his jaw tighten because he doesn’t know why it is his concern. “This-” he sighs, raking a hand through his hair. He tries his best to swallow down the tightness of his throat. “This act, this pretense with him-”

Your laugh cuts him off. It’s nothing like the one you give Mingyu. It’s sharper, more combined with a set of unshed tears. Wonwoo wants to punch himself. “Pretense?” You whisper, voice cutting through his words like they were made of the thinest grass. It is sharper than the cold air outside, more biting with unsaid disbelief. Your eyes narrow and he can so clearly see the anger simmering inside of them that it takes him off-guard. You take a step closer. His breath catches.

“You are no one who should be talking about pretense, your grace,” you hiss. And Wonwoo tries desperately to keep his tormented eyes to rest on your eyes, but they flicker hesitantly to your lips, down to your necklace, and then back up to your eyes. “Is this-” you gesture vaguely to the entire group, “part of your duty too? Are you afraid of someone snatching up your convenient little wife before you can call it official?” Your voice slowly rises in pitch the more Wonwoo’s eyes wander. And he swears, it’s not on purpose, but he can’t bear to look at your glassy, tear-covered orbs because he knows then that he will break. He’ll break and bring you into a hug and start murmuring apologies for everything he’s ever done.

“What is your-” you stop yourself and he knows immediately that you’ve seen his eyes flicker to your lips. You scoff. It’s loud, haunting, taunting. “Fucking look at me,” you snap, hands balling into small fists by your side. Wonwoo looks up into your eyes and it feels like a part of his heart shatters at the sight of your faint dark circles and redness of your eyes. “Your grace, I’ve said this once and I’ll say it only one more time,” you whisper, stepping just one more half-step closer to him. He can feel your dress flutter against his skin and your expensive Capital perfumery perfume waft towards him. “If duty is all you care about,” you choke out, and he can see the way your bottom lip trembles as you continue, “get the fuck out of my life.”

The words hit him squarely in his chest. He can feel his constructed walls tremble under the weight and restrained emotion of your words.

He swallows down his own set of tears. It’s infuriating, really, having the one person you care about the most strike you down before you can even say anything. It’s frustrating when even he can’t decide to let you be or if he needs you – needs you the breathe, to sleep, to help the blood flow in his veins.

Around you, the ballroom almost holds its breath. Of course, the dancers still twirled, the string ensemble still played on, but in the one meter radius of you, every table feels frozen, watching a scene unfold that no one dares to interrupt.

“You still think you’re part of my-” Wonwoo starts, but the way you stare at him almost chokes him out of the rest of his words. He couldn’t even argue against the truth of what you said. On the probability that you had figured out the flowers and necklace were from him, it would have only worked against him in ways he had not properly thought out or even intended. He wishes he could just scream out the words.

You take a shaky breath, expression almost forcefully hardening as you lift your chin. “Don’t question me, your grace, when you’ve made it crystal clear that your reputation and your title mean more to you than anything else.” He can hear the wavering undulations of your voice, but your resolve, whether forced or not, held firm. It held the entirety of your sentences together. “So yes. I’m going to keep up with whatever it is you think is pretense and you…” you trail off as your eyes rake up and down his body, finally landing on the crest of his duchy by his shoulder. You scoff, “should stick to what you think is best for your Archduchy.”

Wonwoo feels almost wronged at your words. Is that really what you see him as? Did you really only see him as someone who would do something if it meant for a greater reward for his duchy? His heart thuds in his chest, except this time, it’s in dread. The sting of your words root him in place and the crowd blurs into a scene of motion and moving colors.

“Then why do you wear the necklace?” he murmurs, more to himself than anything, but you hear him.

Your hand flies to finger at your necklace, smoothening over the jade pieces. You look down. “A mistake on my part,” you whisper, voice shaking now. Your finger suddenly undo the clasp at the back and the necklace falls into your palm. The jade flowers sit there, like a dejected piece of artwork. Without any more words, you drop the necklace into his palm. The stones feel much heavier than when he bought them – as if they had absorbed some of the weight of your words. He looks up at you – mouth slightly open, eyes blown wide. He can’t even believe it. This feels as if you were finally ending everything. Because you knew the flowers, the jade, were from him.

“Wait-” he hurries, fingers clenching over the jade. But before he can say anything else, you turn around and Mingyu stands. Wonwoo can only watch as you turn away from him, back straight and head held high, as you walk towards Mingyu, who rests a firm hand on your shoulder.

“Perhaps, Archduke,” Mingyu says softly, though Wonwoo can hear – loud and clear – the unmistakable warning, “it would be best to just let her be.”

Wonwoo’s fists clench at his sides. He has to be trembling from the pure forceful restraint he held all night now fraying exponentially at the edges. His gaze lingers on Mingyu’s hand, on the easy familiarity between you and him, on the jealousy that gnaws at his insides.

Wonwoo can’t bear to speak. The faint scent of your perfume lingers in the air, almost like a cruel reminder of your presence even as you move further away from him. The orchestra swells with the tsunami of his emotion. The triumphant notes almost feel like mockery to the hollowness of his chest. The ballroom returns back to life but Wonwoo can’t seem to remove himself from his position, until he feels a warm hand on his shoulder.

“Wonwoo.” Soonyoung. “Wonwoo, come on. You’re making a scene,” Soonyoung whispers, pulling his arm.

Wonwoo stumbles after Soonyoung, feet not leading him in any way. He wants to scoff – to go back up to his room and cry. He had told himself that he could handle this – seeing you, being near you without tapping into any of the feelings he had tried so hard to suppress. But now, at your words, faced with the stunning reality of the depth of your scar, the realistic distance, of you being able to continue life without him, a tsunami of loss threatens to drown him. Because he can’t. He can’t live without you. Because he had underestimated, severely, the pain of it.

And for the first time, being pulled out of the ballroom by Soonyoung, he wonders if he has lost you for good. If he has no chance anymore of pulling you close to him and kissing you under the starlight again. If he has no chance anymore of you returning his deep-rooted affections.

y/n

It was kind of sad to see the royal gardens cloaked under both night and the snow. Your hands brush against the winter rose bushes as you walk along the path to the atrium, outfitted with a dying fire in a hearth and hot tea that steams under the wintry temperature. You smile softly at the memories flooding your mind of running through these very gardens when you were younger, laughing and tumbling with all your friends. Smiling during a time that seemed so carefree.

You wish you could go back. You wish you could go back and experience the carefree again. You miss it. You miss being able to fall asleep at night without trouble, being able to wake up in the morning without cold sweat in a nightmare, being able to go about your day without the constant plaguing thought of him wandering the confines of your mind.

A soft crunch of a branch startles you. You turn.

The sight in front of you makes you stumble back in surprise.

Wonwoo steps up to you hesitantly. It’s more so the expression – the emotions – clouded with something so raw it seems almost not humane in his eyes that stutter your breath in your lungs. Under the moonlight, way past the time both of you should be outside, he looks vulnerable. Much more vulnerable since the last time you saw him at that stupid charity ball two nights ago.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you say. It’s quiet but it rings through the empty garden. You want to laugh at how much your voice lacks the conviction you wish it had. You fidget with your fingers as Wonwoo stares at you with an unfamiliar intensity. The rosiness of his cheeks make you wonder if he’s slightly tipsy.

“I couldn’t stay away,” he rasps, voice a low murmur that carries to your ears, stabbing a long knife in your lung.

You want to scoff but the deep tenor of his voice stops you from actually doing so. Your arms instead cross over your chest. “Why?”

You’re not quite sure if you want to hear the reason, lest all of your walls come crumbling down, but you ask anyway.

Wonwoo steps closer, movements slow as if to not spook you. “Because there are things I need to say – things I should have said years ago.”

You swallow, head tilted up to look into his eyes. Behind his glasses, tears swim unidentified in his eyes. Rather late of you, you want to say. Instead, you opt on “Say them,” you whisper. “What is it?”

His jaw tightens. You want to reach up and kiss his worries away. You do, really. For a second, it seems as though he is regretting ever bumping into you, but then he speaks, voice trembling with the weight of all of his emotions.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, hands reaching for yours. You give them up without hesitation – as if your body was acting on its own habitual wants. “I made a mistake. I left because I thought it was the right thing to do. Because I thought I could protect you by staying away – by returning to you with some sort of success.” He falters. “But I was wrong, y/n. I’ve been wrong about so many things.”

You can feel the foundation of your walls shaking.

No. No, stay with your resolve, y/n.

You look away, lips pressing into a thin line. But you don’t pull your hands out of his caress. “You’ve said enough. I want to be with someone who doesn’t disappear the moment duty calls.”

Wonwoo takes a sharp breath. You can almost feel the unspoken accusations swirl between you.

“Is that really what you think of me?” Wonwoo's words sound almost bitter. “That I left without caring? That I would risk everything just to avoid you for the time being?”

“What else am I supposed to think, Wonwoo?” You snap back, your voice rising. You wish desperately for him to leave. If you talk about this any longer, you were going to break. “You left without a word, without confidence in me, and then waltzed back into my life expecting everything to be as it was! But people don’t just fucking stand around waiting-”

“-You have no idea what you’re saying, y/n.” Wonwoo’s voice is dangerously low now. He steps even closer and you finally register something in his hand. “Do you think I do all of this because it’s convenient? Because it’s an obligation?” he asks. It hurts to hear your words used against you. It hurts even more to hear the pure anger in his voice.

“Isn’t it, though?” you whisper, stepping back defensively, hands slipping out of his hold. “Wonwoo,” you murmur looking down at your feet briefly, “ the only reason we’re even speaking is because of a scandal. We are simply solutions to each other’s inconvenient situations! What part of that do you not get?” You slam a hand on your own chest. Your breaths come out as puffs of white in the air. You can feel your tears welling up in your eyes.

Wonwoo stares at you in disbelief, as if he can’t believe he’s hearing you right. His hands curl into fists.

The next words he utters are low and full of just pure fury (at you or himself, you’re not too sure). His next words almost punch all the breath out of you.

“If you think I’d waste my fucking time, my life, on anyone I didn’t want – on anyone who didn’t mean everything to me – then you never even knew me at all.”

His words hit you square in the face. It’s so vulnerable, the most emotional you’ve seen him, that it incites another spark in your chest. “But you’ve never been here, Wonwoo. You always leave! You’ve left once and you’ll keep on leaving.” Your own words are a desperate attempt to keep your walls up. You can feel your tears poke and prod and threaten to fall. You can hear your voice shake and your bottom lip tremble at your words. Actually, more of his words. You want to keep arguing. You want him to leave – leave you, leave the Capital, leave your life, but you desperately need him to stay – stay with you, stay in the Capital, stay in your life until you die.

Wonwoo shakes his head as if he doesn’t agree with you. “You can call it duty all you want, y/n. But it doesn’t change my heart. It doesn't change what I feel towards you. You think I really wouldn’t have stayed if I could help it? You think I’d willingly let someone else have what I’ve always needed more than my next breath?” Wonwoo’s hand comes up to caress your cold cheek, thumb rubbing your cheekbone.

“Don’t say that shit to me,” you whisper, glassy eyes gazing up at his. You can see the tears that are welling up near the corners of his eyes and if you didn’t have the last remaining thread of resolve left in you, you wouldn’t have kissed his tears away.

Your shattered heart jackhammers in your chest as Wonwoo stares into what feels like your soul. It makes you feel bare – naked, almost. “Y/n,” he whispers, his voice breaking, “I came back for you.”

You don’t make a move to leave his warmth, but you look up at him with your own air of defiance. There’s a confusing sort of wreath of emotions that circle your bruised heart, and the words escape you before you can stop them. “You’ve left before. And I would be a fool to not believe you’ll leave again.”

Wonwoo’s hand stills on your face and he looks so pained for a moment that you wonder if continuing your facade is really a good idea. If it’s better to just give in. “I left to protect what matters, y/n, you have to understand,” he almost begs, desperate for you to just know, “To protect you.”

You bite your cheek, a single tear falling from your eyes. It’s immediately rubbed away by Wonwoo’s thumb. “And what do you want me to do, Wonwoo?” you whisper, voice bordering on hysterics. “Wait around until you leave me? Again? Do you know the pain of your heart shattering when someone like that just up and leaves?”

A few more tears fall from your eyes. You can’t even help it anymore. You feel the tightness of your lungs come back again. You can feel yourself start to choke up on your own tears. You can feel yourself start to break down – unwind completely under the softly falling snow.

“No, no, no,” Wonwoo murmurs, cupping your face, brushing away all your tears. “Y/n please, I left because I had to. But now I’m here. I’m here, and I won’t leave,” he whispers, breath fanning over your lips.

“I’m convenient, Wonwoo,” you suddenly cry, tears streaming down your face. “You need a partner, not me!” You want to look away, run away, but Wonwoo’s caress on your jaw holds you still.

Wonwoo’s face contorts painfully with hurt. And you wonder if you have finally pushed him out. But then his jaw sets, like every time he is ready to argue in the royal court. Like every time he is ready to prove his point. “If I had wanted convenience, I’d have chosen anyone but you. This,” he gestured between you two, “is the furtherest thing from fucking easy.”

You open your mouth, but you can’t find the words to express anything you’re feeling. The pain, the hurt, the resolve you are trying desperately to keep up. Wonwoo watches you with such sharp eyes it sends you into another spiral of being flustered.

“I’m giving you my heart, y/n,” he murmurs. One look into his eyes tells you everything you need to know. “It’s terrifying – more than any battlefield I’ve seen,” he admits, “but for you? For you, I’d face any danger, any fear over and over again, even if it means standing in front of the love of my life, knowing you don’t believe me. Even if it means standing in front of the one person I would give up my life for, knowing she doesn’t want me like I want her.”

Your eyes blow wide and a stuttered gasp of a breath feels punched out of your stomach. For a moment, it seems deathly quiet – even the winds seem to soften around you two. And then memories of the nights of your sobs, of your broken heart, scattered into the smallest of shards on the floor, taunt you like a haunted nightmare, circling over and over again.

“Maybe you should have given it to someone who wouldn’t have questioned it,” you whisper, placing a hand over his. “Do you think your proclaimed love is enough, Wonwoo, to erase my pain? My memories? That you can come here and confess and it’ll fix just about everything?”

You know. You’re being overly critical. You’re being annoying, you’re being frustrating. You know he means every word he utters because he’s Jeon Wonwoo. If he didn’t mean it, he would have not even said it. But even you can’t help the words that flow out of you, fueled with bitterness and pettiness.

“No,” he says softly, interlocking your hands together. You almost pull away. “I don’t even expect forgiveness, Y/n. Hell, I don’t even deserve it. But I can’t keep pretending I don’t fucking love you. Like I don’t want you by my side for every passing hour. That I don’t want-” his voice breaks and you flinch in surprise when a single tear rolls down his cheek. “That I don’t love you ‘till my last breath.”

His words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating.

You shake your head, pulling away from his reach, frantically brushing through your hair. “This is unfair, Wonwoo. You can’t just- just come back and say that you love me.” You sound desperate even to your own ears. You will for Wonwoo to stop there. Please.

“It’s all I have, y/n,” he admits, voice cracking at your name. The way he utters your name, it carries such unrestrained emotion that it makes you shudder. “It’s all I’ve ever had.”

Your knees give out, and you sink into your skirts, arms caging your body close to your legs. You rock yourself back and forth gently, eyes trained on the white snow beneath your feet. “What am I supposed to do with that?” You whisper, more to yourself than to him, but it catches Wonwoo’s ears.

He kneels in the cold snow, brushing hair out of your face. “I’m willing to wait, y/n, you have to know. There is no one else. There never was and there never will be. And when you are ready to believe that – believe me – I’ll be here. Always. I’ll wait. Even if it takes fifty years. I’ll wait.” He tucks the strands of curled hair behind your ear, fingers lingering on your temple. Another hand rubs your shoulder. “And I’m sorry, y/n,” he continues. “I’m so sorry for leaving you by yourself for all those years. I really am.”

You can’t bear to look up because you can already feel two warm teardrops on the back of your hand that Wonwoo holds close to his face. Because you know that if you look up and see his desperate, dejected eyes, it’ll haunt you forever. Because if you look up and then match his expression to his vulnerable words, laced with such truth, you’ll break.

“I don’t know if I can, Wonwoo,” you finally murmur.

“That’s okay. I’ll wait,” he responds. His words are full of such conviction they almost reassure you.

“Don’t say that.”

“Y/n,” he laughs, tears falling down his face. “I’m not giving up on us.”

“You should!” you sob, burying your face into your palms. “Wonwoo, just give up on us! Please!” You don’t mean it. Not even one bit. But you say it because you can’t live through him leaving again. Because if, in the chance that he does, leave again, you don’t think you can bear it. You know your heart won’t be able to bear the brunt force of it.

Wonwoo shakes his head. You know he knows. Or at least can tell. “I can’t, y/n. Not when you mean so much to me. Not when it doesn’t feel like living when you’re not close to me – when you’re not next to me,” he replies. His voice is much calmer than yours and holds to it a sense of firmness in his decision, like nothing could convince him out of it. He pulls you up by your arms, holding you at arms-length, almost inspecting your face for something. Some emotion he may be losing in the heat of everything.

“Wonwoo, please. Let me just forget,” you murmur, nails biting into your palms.

Wonwoo shakes his head again, tilting your face up. He swallows. Your red eyes, swollen from tears, close briefly at his warm hand. “You know I can’t, y/n. You mean everything to me.”

“You’re being selfish.”

“Maybe. But you should be too.”

“Wonwoo…”

“Y/n, I’m not demanding an answer right now. I know the pain I’ve caused you. I know the-” Wonwoo stops suddenly when he sees you biting your lips, teeth clenching down hard on the flesh until you can feel a thin sheen of iron against your tongue. His brows furrow and his thumb gently pries your lip from your teeth, letting out a small sigh. “You don’t ever have to say anything. I just needed you to know. I need you to know how much I love you.”

Wonwoo ends with a certain sort of flourish you remember from when he would conclude a debate in the National Academy, or when he would argue with his father. It was with a conviction that he knew the other person could not argue against. And you couldn’t.

“Don’t do this to me,” you mutter, rubbing your eyes as if to stop the flow of tears. Your heart clenched and you could feel the cold start to seep in.

Wonwoo’s eyes softened at your tears. You stare down at your feet as his hands work to unbuckle the fur cloak from his shoulders. In the next second, your body is engulfed in a familiar sort of warmth and the scent of a more familiar cologne. He adjusts the cloak around your shivering frame. Warm fingers brush your tears off your skin and your hair from your eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, angel.”

Your breath hitches at the nickname. The nickname that took you three years to get over – to forget and partially forgive. The nickname that felt so wrong coming out of anyone else’s mouth. You look up, warm tears pooling in your eyes again. “Don’t call me that,” you whisper and you know he can hear the pure pain in your voice. “Don’t-” you hit his chest with your fist, though lightly, “fucking call me that,” you choke out. Your forehead rests on his chest, tears falling freely down your cheeks, chin, and onto the snow. You can feel the gentle pressure of Wonwoo’s chin on your head and the way his hesitant arms encircle your waist, pulling you closer to his embrace – pulling you closer to his comforting warmth.

Wonwoo presses his lips together, inhaling a sharp breath. “I’m sorry, y/n, I really am. You don’t have to answer,” he confesses, more desperate this time. “I’ll wait. I’ll wait and wait until you’re ready for me, whenever that is. And if you accept only for one day, that’s okay too.”

Wonwoo’s fingers fix the cloak around your shoulders and they falter when they brush gently against your empty neck. There is a pang of guilt when you realize it’s because of how you shove the necklace he had gifted you back into his hands on that night. But he doesn’t linger, opting to pull away.

“It’s all okay, y/n. It’s okay. And I’m sorry,” Wonwoo murmured one last time, before he pressed a fleeting kiss – gentle, warm, so him – against your forehead. Before he turns away and steps through the snow-covered walkway, back towards the warmth of the palace, leaving you with your own bubbling thoughts.

There is a tightening sensation in your heart that travels along the arteries and veins and seeps into your lungs, then the rest of your chest, until you find yourself slumped on a bench, tears soaking your handkerchief and sobs echoing through the otherwise quiet garden.

Approximately two days later, Joshua comes to visit you in your Capital estate, hands laden with gifts sent up from his wife who had gone down early to their country duchy.

Your parlor is warm, lit by the steady glow and crackle of the fire that dances within the ornate hearth. Darkened drapes are tied back, letting the minimal winter sun seep into the room. A soft atmosphere of silence wraps itself around the room, broken only by the soft clinks of your cups as you and Joshua both sip on the tea laid out in the tea table in front of you.

Joshua sits opposite you in a high-backed chair. His usual easy demeanor around you belies the sharpness of his attention. You can see it just from how his brows scrunch and his eyes dart from your face to your wringing hands in your lap. His coat is draped over the arm of his chair, leaving him only in a simple waistcoat. He cradles his own teacup with the same kind of quiet thoughtfulness that seems to define his entire being in times like this.

The tension only grows as you slowly get more anxious at your senior’s silence and Joshua grows more wary of your wandering eyes – how your gaze flickers to the flames and then to the ceiling and then back to your hands, never truly focusing on anything.

“Do you have anything to tell me?” Joshua asks, voice gentle but firm, how it’s always been with you. Sometimes, you wonder if he actually saw himself as more of your father than your older brother.

You hesitate to respond. Should you tell him? No, you want to argue. But technically, if Joshua was already asking you if you had anything to tell him, that meant that he already knew something happened, or he already knew what happened and wanted to hear it from you. Either way, it leaves you with no choice but to answer him.

“Why?” you choose to respond, setting your teacup down.

Joshua shrugs, stirring his tea. “Just a hunch,” he hums.

You’re quiet. And Joshua indulges in your voluntary silence. But only for a minute, as it has always been. Joshua Hong is only patient when he wants to be.

“Y/n, what happened between you and Wonwoo?” he finally asks, ripping the coarsely-placed bandage off of your wound. He leans forward, elbows on his knees.

You sigh, slumping down in your chair. Your hand pulls at your hair. “What didn’t happen,” you mutter.

Joshua sighs, tapping your foot. “Not an answer. Come on, y/n. I need you to tell me so that I can help you or something.”

You falter at his words. It was curious, really, how Joshua knew exactly the perfect time to come and visit you. How he knew exactly when you needed help.

You finally give in.

“He said he loves me,” you whisper. You cringe at your own words. They feel foreign leaving your own mouth, and maybe it’s because you haven’t even given yourself the time to wrap your own head around it. But in any sense, you say it.

“So he finally confessed,” Joshua muses, as if he already knew your little tidbit. You wouldn’t be surprised if he did, really. He had a knack of finding things out before you could properly process what was happening. But it does annoy you, just a little bit. It’s the same thing, you guess, as Seungcheol asking you to weekly afternoon teas to see if everything in your life is okay.

“If you put it that way,” you mutter, crossing your arms, eyes fluttering over to the window.

There is a thick sheet of silence that lands heavy between you two as Joshua chooses not to respond. Instead, he sets his cup down on the small table between you with deliberate care. He studies you for a long moment and for a second, you think you have biscuit crumbs on your chin or something.

“I feel like I can guess what you said to him,” Joshua finally says, leaning back on his chair.

You nod hesitantly. “I just-” you sigh, sinking further into the chair, “-I don’t want to be the convenient choice so that he can fulfil his obligations. What if he doesn’t choose me if he had the option?” you ask quietly. An edge of bitterness and underlying hurt seeps into your tone even though you try to mask it. And you know Joshua picks up on it too.

“If that’s what you believe,” Joshua says, voice low and deliberate it almost scares you, “then you don’t know him as well as you think.”

You blink at his words. The certainty in his words – almost like he knows because he’s talked it over with the person in question – throws you off. It’s rather unlike Joshua to frequently give relationship or love advice, seeing as how his own marriage came to fruition.

You’re about to retort when Joshua continues.

“Wonwoo’s never taken the easy path,” he says, “Not once. Not in the National Academy, not in society, not in the knight corps, and definitely not when it comes to you. Actually, the man probably takes the hardest route whenever it comes to you.” His words hang in the air, laden with something akin to a heavy truth that makes your chest tighten. No tears though, which is good, considering the considerable amount of tears you’ve accumulated over the past couple of days.

The glow of the firelight lends a warmth to Joshua’s face that contrasts with the intensity of his gaze. You want to desperately argue, to push back against the certainty of his words, but the sheer conviction in them, as well as Joshua’s rare sure relationship advice, has you basically grasping for words.

“He’s struggling too, Y/n.” His words are quiet but firm enough to pierce the silence.

You laugh, tears stuck in your throat. “Oh, I bet,” you mumble.

“The weight of duty, of everything, it’s heavier on him that anyone else realizes,” Joshua hums, pausing for a bit when he sees your frown, “But you can-”

Suddenly, the doors to your parlor swung open, followed by hurried half-yells of your estate staff asking the prince to “Please wait outside, your highness!”

Both your and Joshua’s heads whip towards the sound, the tense atmosphere now conveniently broken. When you turn towards the oak doors of your parlor, Mingyu stands in the doorway, his wide frame taking up the entire doorway. He looks rushed, almost distressed – hair sticking out of his fur hat, cloak lopsided on his shoulders.

Joshua opens his mouth to speak but Mingyu beats him to it.

“Oh thank god you’re here,” he breathes, ripping his hat off of his head as he bends forward, hands on his knees as he tries to collect himself.

You turn your wide eyes towards Joshua as if he can give you an answer. Joshua only shrugs, confusion marring the space between his eyes.

“Your highness, what is this about?” Joshua asks, standing up as Mingyu makes his way over to the long couch, collapsing on top of it.

Mingyu heaves in another breath. “He left,” he states.

“What?” your voice is sharp with annoyance. Really, the men in this kingdom need to learn how to talk in full sentences. How is anyone supposed to understand who “he” is when the speaker doesn’t clarify it with any proper noun? “Speak properly, Mingyu.”

Mingyu looks up from his position on the couch, arm thrown over his eyes. “Wonwoo, Y/n,” he sighs, turning over to face the back of the couch. “He was commissioned to the north. Again. He left at dawn yesterday, apparently.”

Mingyu’s words are like a bath of cold water that is thrown on you. They crash over you like an unwanted gasp of air. It threatens to break you. You can’t breathe and you don’t know why. Your body suddenly feels like it isn’t yours. You feel like your lungs are caving in themselves and you can feel your heart punching at your ribs, threatening to break the bones. You clutch at your chair, gasping in inhales of oxygen like you are a fish out of water. Like you were some sort of broken machine that needed fuel. Like you had just heard a world-ending news.

He was gone.

“Left?” you croak out and a gasp of air follows, which clearly worries both Joshua and Mingyu because both men either stand up or sit up, heads whipping towards your weak voice. You don’t even realize that you’re crying until Mingyu’s eyes blow wide and he’s hurrying over, dabbing your tears off with his handkerchief. You want to push him away – let yourself mingle in with another set of tears – but the only thing that you can think is that his cologne is too strong compared to Wonwoo’s. The only thing that you can think of, while your eyes drift towards the open-curtained windows and watch the thick snow fall down from the dark skies, is that Wonwoo left. Again. Wonwoo left you again. And he’ll have to ride through the thick snow of the Capital and then ride again through the thicker snow of the countryside, and then fight in the thickest snow of the north. That he’ll face another battlefield – a battlefield you knew, from Soonyoung’s letters – that he hated with all his being. That he’ll most likely get injured while fighting for the king, for the kingdom, for you, apparently. That he might-

“Oh my god,” you breathe, shooting up and out of your seat with a speed that scares both Mingyu and Joshua, who are staring at you like you’re going through a life-changing crisis. “Oh my god!” you choke out, steadying yourself with your chair. The three words just fall from your lips like a mantra as you pace back and forth through your parlor, pulling at the ends of your hair and biting your lips. And through everything – Mingyu glancing over at Joshua and Joshua trying to get Nai to bring you some chamomile tea – the only thought in your head is the singular worry that gnaws and teeths at your entire soul: what if he dies?

: ̗̀➛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴡɪɴᴇᴅ -- ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ @syluslittlecrows @gaslysainz @meowmeowminnie @luvjichang @peachytokki @nicoleparadas @haneulparadx @venuszaa @lilylikesthat @ppaia @ameliamirabela @tearsdntfall617

165 notes · View notes

binniesbooks · 10 months ago

Note

hi my fayebae~ since u said u loved the car clip of soobin, here’s one for u to write ur heart away!! (U can of course choose whether u wanna do it or not no pressure!! Im just sending since its at the top of my mind rn, ahh n im sorry for so many request i usually dont send anyt in but🥹i didnt think it would be this fun to see my request coming to life uk but i digress)

idk whether u would like this but:

bf!soobin x gf!brat!reader

they got into an argument and stuff but soobin who still loves his gf comes n picks her up after (cheerleading?prac of some sorts)

Otw home… reader gives the cold shoulder to soob, not talking thru out the entire journey? So soob decides to take a detour n drives to somewhere that doesnt have many ppl looking in the night.

They start talking n tried to resolve whatever their fighting abt, one thing led to another, well reader is giving him a bj!!(the rest of the smut is up to u!!)

inspired by that soob clip of course~ have fun love💗

REVVED UP EMOTIONS

SB 000 .F23 2024

wc 3.7k

pairings bf!Soobin x bratgf!reader

warnings oral sex, semi-public, unprotected sex, slight brat taming, being almost caught, pet names (+ anything that I missed)

faye's note this clip was on my mind 24/7. And after receiving it I got excited making this one out but I'm not sure if it turned out good because my mind was kinda occupied with thesis shit. Omfg. Anyways, I hope it isn't dry tho 😔

Conflict is an inevitable part of any relationship, be it familial, platonic, or romantic. Arguments can arise from misunderstandings, unmet expectations, or simply the simple things from daily life. Recently, you found yourself in a heated disagreement with Soobin, your boyfriend.

The sun hung low one afternoon, casting golden lights through the window. You were sprawled on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through your phone. Soobin on the other hand, who had just come home from a busy day at university, was busy, again, in the kitchen, occasional noises of clicks and clangs of utensils on pots and pans plus the opening and closing of the faucet can be heard.

You overheard him murmur "Yeah, dinner for two," as he clicked his tongue. You felt a strange pang of irritation swell within you. It wasn't about him or the meal he was preparing, it was you. You actually promised him you would help out, maybe even cook together, but here you were, scrolling on your phone.

You stood up as you trudged to the kitchen, arms crossed as you leaned on the sink. "You didn't have to do all this," you stood feigning nonchalance as you bit your cheek to not show the guilt you were feeling. "You could have asked me for help."

"Oh?" He looked at you with disappointment, "I thought you were busy checking social media," his blunt reply and harsh tone made your ears hot out of irritation. "I didn't want to interrupt your 'important' scrolling."

The sarcasm was too emphasized and it stung more than you expected. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Your eyebrows furrowed as you met with his gaze. "Nothing! I just thought maybe you'd care enough to have some initiative or something. We both agreed to share the chores. I was tired the whole day only to come back home without even eating a single thing." His voice raised with frustration as he threw down the spatula.

"I was going to help!" Your voice was quite high as you tried to cover how you abandoned your promise. "Oh yeah? I was out all day to finish my projects. And there you were scrolling through your phone." He said as he crumpled the apron he was wearing and threw it also on the table.

"You know what, Soobin? Maybe I don't always want to help! Maybe I want a day off too!" You felt the tension suffocating the air around you. Your heart raced but you're too afraid you're wrong.

"That's fucking selfish!" His voice rose, echoing in the confines of the kitchen. "You can't just say you want a break when we agreed to support each other!" He even added. "Fine! I guess we don't need any support then!" You turned on your heel as if fleeing away would help erase the hurtful things that had been said.

"Hey, y/n! Where are you going!" He called but you did not even take a glance. He called you multiple times but his voice just faded out as you were stomping your way to the bedroom.

That night, you didn't come out for dinner. Your mind was in a whirlwind of regret and stubborn pride. Soobin had a point, you were just lazing around that time, however, you don't want to accept that it was your fault. That same night, he didn't come into the room. Your shared bed feels so empty, but you can't just bring yourself to ask for an apology.

Later that morning, you tiptoed your way out. Still too early that your boyfriend was still sleeping, uncomfortably by the way, on the couch. You just grabbed bread and water and went out.

You two always ride his car to go to school. But this time you were determined not to ask for a simple apology and went out by yourself instead. And yes, you were planning to walk to school for your practice. However, some guy passed by and let you ride their car. Since you know the one who offered you a ride, you accepted the offer. It was Kai anyway, aside from being in Soobin's circle of friends, he was part of your cheerleading team.

"Why are you walking so early in the morning? Where's Soobin?" He asked out of curiosity.

"I don't know, maybe somewhere." You answered as you rolled your eyes, still being stubborn. "Are you two fighting?" Kai chuckled as he watched your actions while the traffic light was still red.

"We broke up." You nonchalantly remarked. Well, that was supposed to be a joke, and you never thought that Kai would actually believe those words.

"Woah shit! You what?" He was really startled at what you said as he covered his mouth while keeping the other on the wheel. You just laughed at him as you took the last bite of the bread.

Your whole Saturday went on like the usual cheerleading practice days. But since your mind is still in a whirlwind of pride, you couldn't focus. Causing you to crash multiple times while practicing. You were even scolded by your coach and instructors telling you that you looked like your mind flying or some sort. You just rolled your eyes at them whenever they turn their backs to you.

For that reason, you got hurt, earning yourself a few scratches here and there. You didn't even bother at all. Kai on the other hand, took the chance to treat your scratches. You're still not aware that he actually took your words this morning to heart and mind.

"It's just a scratch, Kai. No need to create a big fuss." You chuckled as he handed you a few bandages.

"Still, scratches can cause infection." He defended himself.

"Fine fine, you win." You sighed in defeat.

You two shared each other's company during lunch that day. You could even tell that many eyes are watching you -- no, most probably judging you at this point. Nonetheless, you just shrugged it off and enjoyed Kai's company instead. Not knowing that this could fuel some bigger fire. Fire that Kai holds, and fire that your boyfriend holds.

Since Soobin was not on the campus that day, he just stayed at home. He can't even contact you since you purposely left your phone. He was just cleaning all day. Just decluttering everything at home. He knows you're practicing today anyway. The only difference is that he usually accompanies you to school and waits for you until practice is done and brings you home, but now, he's just at home busying himself with the chores. He just planned to fetch you later this afternoon and treat you to some restaurant to make it up to you since he feels sorry about raising his voice at you.

"Let's wrap up here today." Your coach shouts as he reminds the assigned cleaners to clean the gymnasium before going home.

"Ugh! Cleaning this whole gymnasium sucks!" You complained, picking up the materials your team has used.

"Anyway, why are you still here? You're not on the list to clean today, right?" You were pertaining to the young boy tailing you. He smiled as he scratched the back of his head, "I want to offer you a ride home." His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Don't you have like, any other things to do?" You asked, counting the pompoms before storing them in the box.

"Don't have any." Kai shook his hand as he took the box from your hand and headed to the facility room.

As soon as you and the other were done cleaning, you immediately headed out, Kai insisted on carrying your cheerleading bag. Once again, eyes were gawking at the two of you. You can hear a few of them mumbling but you still ignored it.

Kai opened his car door to let you in. But before you could even step foot inside, someone spoke which made you stop in your tracks. "Where are you headed to?" You turn around to see Soobin as he brings his window down.

"O-oh Soobin hyung." Soobin nods at the younger boy to notice his existence, his elbow hanging at the open window.

You quickly retreat as you grab your bag from Kai. "I-i thought..." Kai stammered as he looked at you. "I was just messing with you Kai, it's not real." You sighed. "What did she say?" Soobin interrupted as he turned to you. You're just a millisecond late to cover Kai's mouth as the words slip out. "She said that you two broke up." Soobin snapped his head towards the younger, a smirk forming on his lips. "Did she?" Kai just nods, still clueless. "Get in," Soobin commanded over you. "I'll take her home, be safe, Kai," Soobin says as he closes the window, whistling.

The whole drive is deafening in silence. You can't hear anything except the faint music playing on the car radio.

"Wow, did we actually break up?" Soobin states with unbelief as he taps his fingers on the wheels.

You were still saying nothing. "Y/n, seriously, are you still mad at me? You didn't even eat last night." He sighed as he continuously threw you glances. Both of your hands were properly curled up in a ball above your thighs clutching your short skirt as you stared outside the window. Looking at whatever unpleasant view outside that seems interesting to you.

The once bright clouds turned darker. "Is it gonna rain? I thought I checked the weather news before I went out." Soobin whispers, changing the stations to listen to the news.

The raindrops started to fall on the car window, drizzling softly as it made the glass cold. "Grab my jacket in the backseat." Soobin talks to you again, but you're not even giving him a single glance.

Soobin messages his temple, "I wanted to take you to a restaurant tonight to make it up to you, but it looks like it's pouring really hard. I'm sorry y/n, just please talk to me." He's totally losing his patience at this point as if he's gonna burst again but tried his very best not to go over the top. He regretted raising his voice yesterday so much.

The once-familiar view of the road becomes foreign to your eyes. You turned to Soobin, looking at his unusual demeanor. If he'd been talking so much earlier, his lips were totally shut now. You wanted to speak and ask him where he was bringing you or what was wrong but you stopped yourself. Whatever will be, will be, you thought to yourself.

The rain started pouring harder, and the once busy road you were on looked empty now. Thunder clasps from far away making a rumbling sound. You try to rub your shoulder to create friction to keep your body warm. You're starting to feel cold and Soobin hasn't thrown you a glance nor commented anything at you.

He suddenly pulled up on the roadside, and the light from the lamp post dimly flickered inside the car.

"Not gonna lie, I felt like a dumb ass talking to a wall earlier." His eyes met yours for a while before you averted your gaze. He grabs his jacket and hands it to you, "Wear this, you must be cold. I just realized, your skirt is too short, and your tank top is too thin, at that." He eyes you up and down as you wear his jacket.

"This is fucking crazy." He mumbled as he pulled his hair.

"Y/n, baby, look, I'm really sorry for raising my voice at you, hm? I was just really tired last night." He gently placed his hand above yours on your thighs.

Your eyes were following a few cars passing by as if they were the most interesting thing in the world. You felt Soobin hold your face gently. "Baby, please look at me. I'm not used to this. You know me." Soobin's eyes were practically begging. He couldn't stand you giving him the cold shoulder.

The truth is you were just afraid. You're afraid to admit you had acted selfishly. Afraid of facing him after a petty argument over something so trivial.

"I just want you to talk to me," he caresses your cheeks, words so gentle and comforting, "I can't fix this if you won't talk to me."

Soobin pulls you in for a hug, warming up your heart. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, surrendering to him and putting down your stubborn pride. You mumbled a soft sorry as he gently rubbed your back. You let your arms move freely, as you return the hug to Soobin.

"Please don't do this again to me." He kissed your forehead. "I'm sorry for raising my voice, baby. I'm sorry for making you feel upset at me." Soobin's probably the sweetest guy you could ever ask for. He can make you feel loved and appreciated, but of course, you're just stubborn and bratty at times, which makes him wanna lose his temper.

Soobin pulls away, showering your face with a hundreds of kisses. You can't help but giggle at his actions."I didn't mean to shut you out." You mumbled with a pout. "You don't look sincere." Soobin commented which made you pout more. He chuckled as he pulled you in for a kiss.

The kiss felt soft and gentle. That's why you had no idea, why he was shoving his tongue inside your mouth. He bit your lip with a little harshness making you push him away. "Oww! What was that!" You complained. Soobin simply smirked at you. "I'm asking for an apology and forgiving you for one, but not the other issue." His smirk turns to a frown. "Soobin I can explain that..." Your heart began to race, thumping so hard you could feel it in your throat.

"Why don't we use that pretty little mouth of yours on something else good, yeah? Instead of giving people an opening to pounce on you." His eyes scream anger and lust at the same time.

"What do you mean?" You asked clueless. "What do I mean? You really want to hear the exact words?" Soobin taunted. "I don't get what you are saying." You shook your head. "I'm telling you that you just made an opening to let Kai pounce on you. Are you that dense, that you don't even know he likes you?" You were shocked at what Soobin just revealed to you. You opened your mouth to answer only for him to cut you off.

"Or don't tell me you wanted it all along?" He scoffs. "Soobin don't talk like that --" "Don't talk like what, doll? Aren't you the one who told him we're over?"

That's it, those words pushed you over the edge, switching your bratty side once more. "Okay, so what? What if I wanted it all along?" Your voice raised once more. "Kai is a good guy, plus he knows how to take care of someone he likes." You pushed Soobin's chest away from you. Soobin scoffed again, brushing his tongue inside his cheek.

"And I can tell --"

"Backseat. Or else --"

"Or else what? Huh? Are you gonna order me around again? Raise your voice over me again?" You taunt.

"I said backseat, you brat." He fixed his gaze on you and held your wrist.

His words are firm and strong which makes the hair on your neck stand up. He unbuckled his seatbelt and shifted the gear to park, leaving the car idle and the headlights on. You have no choice. You crawled your way to the backseat. you squeezed yourself to fit and pass by the center console. Soobin followed quickly, making his way through the front and back doors. As soon as he settled in the backseat, he ruffled his hair to whisk away some water from the rain.

Your eyes waver as you avert your gaze from him. His hand squeezed both your cheeks, "My patience is running low from your actions, doll. You're making it worse."

Soobin pulled you on his lap. You were almost covering him with how big his jacket you were wearing. His surname is written in big fonts.

He hiked up your skirt only to find out you had nothing underneath other than thin panties. Soobin scoffs, "Don't tell me you were gonna ride Kai's car with just this?" You bit your lip as you placed your hands on his shoulder when he started to rub you with your panties still on.

Soobin clearly knows how to make your knees weak. With just a simple touch and you're back to square one from being a brat. He pulled your panties off slowly without breaking the eye contact. His brows are still furrowed and you can still feel his anger.

"Let's see if you'd still want to ride his car after getting out of mine." He clicked his tongue and licked his finger, pushing two at the same time. Your mouth hung open as you squirm. "S-soob..." You can't talk straight, no, you don't wanna talk actually, but he has his ways to make you open your mouth. "How is it? Still wanna ride his car?" A sly smirk tugging on his lips. In which you replied with just a shake of your head.

"I'm close..." You whispered, biting your lips, watching how his fingers disappears and appears in your cunt. You shudder with the sensation, your high coming to you. But Soobin pulled his fingers out. You whined, hiding your face on his neck as you grind yourself above him.

Soobin's too focused on making you say the word sorry for the said issue. He did not even expect you'll act bratty once again after just apologizing for what happened yesterday.

He gripped your waist. "Stop moving or you'll not gonna cum for 1 week." Hearing this, you whine once more. You can't stand that punishment at least. But instead of getting the words out of your mouth, Soobin wasn't prepared for your action of apology.

You unzip his pants and slowly stroke him. Your face is still hidden in the crook of his neck. Planting soft kisses on his shoulder blade to his neck.

"Doll." His voice is warning yet you didn't budge, with only a small "please let me" coming out of your mouth.

His hand rubbed your back up and down, slipping them inside your top. Your skin is burning to his palm.

"What's with you, huh?" He asked, but he clearly knows you'd rather act like his little slut than let the five-letter word out of your pretty mouth.

You pulled back, squeezing your body once again on the small space between his legs. "Fuck-- just stop giving him signs -- ohh shit!" Soobin clearly shows his frustration at how he grips on the door. You gave him a few kitten licks and swirled your tongue on the tip of his cock making him jolt.

He looks down at you, meeting your eyes, "Fuck, is the word too much for you to say?" You took him whole the moment he spit those words making him thrust up a bit and lean back his head on the headrest.

"Ahh!" His breathy moans filled the car, making the glass foggy despite the rain and cold atmosphere outside. His hands tangled in your hair as you bobbed your head slowly.

You whimpered at how his cock pulsated on your tongue and how his tip kissed your throat. He gently caresses your cheeks as he holds them. You automatically leaned on his hand as you let him fuck your mouth.

His eyes were tightly closed. Lower lip trapped between his teeth. One hand on your cheek to hold you and the other firmly gripping the door to keep himself grounded.

"Baby fuck!" With one last thrust, he's cumming in your mouth. Draining himself on your wet and hot lips.

His heavy pants were the only thing that could be heard inside the car. Not until you hear a knock on the window. You quickly scrambled up your way to the seat as you sat properly, Soobin shoving his shirt down to cover his exposed length.

He opened the window slowly. "Is everything fine? You're hazard is switched on." A police officer said with an umbrella in hand, roaming his eyes inside the car. He even added that he was just passing by and noticed the car had switched on the hazard.

"I'm sure I didn't put the car on hazard though., must be when I got out.." Soobin mumbles, "But everything is fine, we just need to talk something out."

"Take care then, it's pouring hard." The officer apologized before going back to his car.

You looked at Soobin, fear evident on your face. You were doing things in a semi-public place but here you are, totally scared of getting caught. Soobin chuckled at you.

"Can you turn off the hazard light?" He appealed. You propped yourself on top of the center console to reach for the hazard button. But seems like some other button is getting pressed instead, as your hands retreat back to cover your mouth.

Soobin's tongue is licking your exposed cunt. Eating you out while you're still on the center console.

"S-soob, wait.." you tried your best to appeal to him but he did not budge. He continued shoving his tongue inside you. He then gently pulled you back to his lap, slowly sinking you down on his cock.

One of his hands lightly squeezes your neck, the other one pulling one of your hands back. He stopped you from covering your mouth as he continuously thrusts upward.

"Tight.. so tight..." He mumbles at your nape. "Pussy so good for me."

"M-more please." You quietly pleaded as you tried moving your hips. "Someone's eager to be filled." He commented back. "W-wanna be full of you, Soobin." You're feeling lightheaded at how he's squeezing your neck. He can't help but leave hickeys on your shoulder as he thrusts harder.

"I'm gonna get you pregnant at this point," he huffed. "D-don't care, w-want you," your words are slurred as you lean back on his chest.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" No other words just curses, was coming out of his mouth as he felt his cum being released.

You were totally breathless, your body slumped on him, his cock still twitching and pulsating inside your cunt. Soobin is totally worn out, dipping his head down on your shoulder.

"Let's stay like this for five minutes then we'll go home." He mumbled.

@binniesbooks 2024

#faye's library #soobin's books #soobin x reader #soobin smut #soobin x you #choi soobin x reader #choi soobin x you #choi soobin smut #soobin imagines #soobin scenarios #choi soobin imagines #choi soobin scenarios #txt smut #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts

323 notes · View notes

f0rs4k3nbyth3sp4wn · 9 days ago

Text

making a post about how the fandom characterises elliot bcs ts pmo icl 🥀🥀🥀

(small cw for mentioned attempted murder towards a child [fictional ofc]. but this is the forsaken fandom so i dont think most people will care. oh also this is a REALLY long post so. beware)

sooo im pretty new to the fandom but after having browsed almost every sfw 7n7 fic on ao3, its safe to say elliot's characterisation (or, well, mischaracterisation), is becoming a HUGE problem. a lot of people make him pissy around n7 and c00lkidd, which, to be fair, he has a right to be pissy! but the way they execute this is where things go wrong.

this is a more extreme example, but here's the gist of an au my friend found on tiktok (not linking for the creator's sake, which, speaking of, if you've seen this au and know the creator, please don't harass them. i mean i shouldn't have to say that but im still putting it out there):

honestly i agree with the last sentence he said, even i know this is bs even though i've only been a forsaken fan for like a week or smth 😭😭🥀🥀 to show you why, let me break down what we do know of how elliot's personality, how he feels about n7 and c00lkidd, and how he expresses it:

he is generally portrayed as a sweet and kind person, who always wants to help wherever he can.

he 'hates' n7 due to what c00lkidd did to the pizzeria (according to the fanmade wiki), though nothing has (canonically) ever been said about his feelings towards c00lkidd himself (to my knowledge)

he is not openly hostile towards n7, and has never canonically said anything 'mean' to his face, only acted passive aggressive (e.g. "...just get going").

i do disagree with his feelings towards n7 being 'hate' rather than just 'strongly dislike' (trust me, theyre VERY different things), but i digress. even if we were to say elliot hated n7, some people portray him as not even hating, but loathing him (this is an even bigger problem in pizzaburger fics/aus imo). if you want to write a complicated/negative relationship between two characters who are not your own, it's vital to know the difference between dislike, hate and loathe (as seen below).

(via langeek.co)

the reason i say elliot strongly dislikes n7 as opposed to hate is because hatred is often accompanied with a sense of hostility (while dislike is more avoidant, which fits elliot more imo when we look at their canon interactions). if you hate someone, you will not want to help them, and to be fair, i've read a handful of fics where elliot straight up refuses to give n7 pizza, or is at least hesitant. i dont think that's how elliot would behave. yes he is mad at n7 for not controlling his son, and has a grudge against him, but at his core, elliot is a kind guy. even if he wasn't, he'd never leave someone to die, no matter how temporary.

but continuing on the whole 'elliot loathes n7' dynamic, it becomes even more jarring when you apply it as an 'enemies to lovers' pizzaburger dynamic. even more so if you don't do the work to make it well paced. here are some tips on how you can do that:

pay heed to the rest of this post and do NOT make elliot too aggressive towards 007n7 in your fic. otherwise, it may feel too forced, especially if you don't want to go through the slowburn route. feel free to let the guy be passive aggressive though, just don't make him feel uncontrollable hatred every time he sees 07 (i prefer to think he feels manageable disdain, though i think you can tell by now).

on the other side of the coin, do NOT make n7 too pathetic. im all for him being a soggy wet cat, but at the end of the day, that's a grown ass man that was once very similar to c00lkidd. at the very least, i don't think he'd be crying left and right, considering this is a former terrorist, lol.

this is more me telling you guys to be creative than giving tips on pacing (since im not very creative myself, so i dont have many tips myself rn) but if you want to write the exact moment elliot began to like and respect n7, i don't really like the idea of n7 achieving that by bodyblocking for elliot?? like. it's not typically executed right bcs again. it often does what i advised against in the above two points. if you wanna do smth like that in your fic/comic, try comprimising by making it a clone block instead, and letting n7 be a REALLY good distractor like those aggressive n7 main. (i left this incomplete on accident when i posted this lol)

just overall make sure elliot is respectful to n7 during the late pining and post establishing the relationship stages!! it's perfectly fine if you want him to say 'mean' stuff to him that he doesnt mean (think of how siblings, friends, and again, sometimes partners, joke with each other. tough love or wtv), but don't make him have a hate boner for the guy lol. unless youre writing smut where there are actual hate boners involved, i aint getting involved in allat.

anyways, idk how to end this post off, so on a more positive note, go check out this pizzaburger yaoilicious peak rn !!! and feel free to add your own opinions, idm having a discussion as long as youre respectful, and am likely to add more to this post if you remind me of smth i might wanna say (im not the best at articulating myself lol) !!

oh and also i made an addition to this post too covering the other characters

#also i may have accidentally left some sentences incomplete. oops #patched these where i could but there r still some i mightve missed #spawn's testament #character analysis #elliot #forsaken elliot #forsaken #roblox forsaken #forsaken 007n7 #007n7 #forsaken c00lkidd #c00lkidd #f0rs4k3nbyth3sp4wn #pizzaburger #cw child death #tw child death #<- tagging those bcs of the aforementioned au

59 notes · View notes

yokumirumerafan · 1 month ago

Note

HIII I LOVE YOUR WRITING SO MUCH PLS DONT GO BALD!!

Anyway, Can I request Hashira x reader who is like a Greek goddess? Like the goddess of magic (thinking of Circe) but she doesn’t tell them until one day they are on a mission against a demon they’re having trouble defeating so she uses her powers to defeat them???

OKAY FIRST OF ALL—HELLOOOOOO ANGEL 💘😭 THANK U FOR THE LOVE I’M GIGGLING AND KICKING MY FEET RN (I’LL TRY NOT TO GO BALD I SWEAR 🧴🧼💇‍♀️)

SECOND OF ALL—YES YES YES ABSOLUTELY!!! GIVE ME THAT ✨ mystical divine goddess reader reveal moment ✨ I LIVE FOR THAT DRAMATIC UNMASKING

🔥 Rengoku Kyojuro

He always suspected something was… different about you. The way you moved, how you always seemed to know what was coming. But nothing prepared him for when the demon nearly incinerated them— And you stepped forward, your voice echoing with power as golden light crackled from your fingertips. You turned the demon into ash with one spoken word. He stares in awe as your divine glow fades. “…You’re not human,” he breathes. You smile softly. “No. I’m a goddess of magic.” “Ah… magnificent,” he grins, kneeling. “Then it is an honor to fight by your side.”

🌊 Giyuu Tomioka

He's silent, reserved—but he watches. He knows something’s up. But he doesn’t ask. Not until the demon fight goes south, and you stand in front of him, lifting your arms and commanding the winds like they obey you. The demon turns to stone under your magic. He doesn't speak. Just walks up beside you, eyes locked on yours. "...You lied." You sigh. "I didn’t lie. I just… didn’t say anything." “…Why?” “Because people fear what they don’t understand.” He tilts his head slightly. “I don’t fear you.” That’s all he says before he quietly begins following you again. Closer than before.

🪻 Mitsuri Kanroji

She’s in love with you already, so when she sees you practically float off the ground and shatter a demon with one flick of your hand, she's SCREAMING. "Y/N!!! YOU'RE SO COOL WHAT THE HECK?? YOU'RE A GODDESS???" Tears of joy, hands on your face. "You’re SOOO sparkly and glowy and pretty I can't—" You: "I’m literally the goddess of enchantment." Her: "EXACTLY THAT MAKES SO MUCH SENSE." Now she brags about you to everyone like you’re her magical divine girlfriend. Which you are.

🌪️ Sanemi Shinazugawa

He's already on edge from the mission, already pissed at the demon dodging everything. So when you calmly step in front of him, eyes glowing white, and turn the demon’s blood into burning vapor, He’s like: “WHAT THE FU—?!?!” Absolutely staring at you. You: "...Sanemi." Him: “You just—did you—WHAT THE HELL—" You: “I’m a goddess.” “…YEAH OBVIOUSLY???” Later, while patching up his wounds, he mutters, “Next time you could’ve warned me before you became a human nuke.”

🐍 Obanai Iguro

At first, he’s cautious of you. Not because he doesn’t like you—but because something about you feels… unknowable. Then he watches you summon divine chains from the earth and trap a demon mid-air while chanting in a language older than time. He doesn’t even blink. “You’re a goddess, aren’t you?” “…Yes.” He nods once. “Explains the glow. And the way Kaburamaru likes you more than me.” He’s now extra protective of you, and definitely carves a protective sigil you taught him onto his blade.

🌧️ Muichiro Tokito

He watches you float, shimmer, and incinerate the demon. Just… blank face. Then: “Oh… that makes sense.” You blink. “It does??” He shrugs. “Yeah. You’ve always felt… otherworldly.” You’re staring. He’s not even a little fazed. “Are you mad?” “No. I think it’s cool. Can you teach me sky magic?” He follows you around like a baby demigod in training now.

💪 Gyomei Himejima

He sensed your aura was… ancient. Sacred. He prayed beside you without even knowing why. So when you whisper a sacred incantation and a holy circle flares beneath the demon, swallowing it whole—he kneels beside you in reverence. “…You are divine,” he whispers. You lower your hands, tears in your eyes. “I didn’t want you to think I was evil.” He shakes his head. “I felt your kindness long before I saw your power.” He will never let anyone speak ill of you again.

🦋 Shinobu Kocho

She’s very curious about you. She’s always known something didn’t line up—how your wounds healed too fast, how your eyes shimmered under moonlight. But when you wave your hand and shatter a demon into dust mid-battle, she’s blinking. “Oh. I see.” “…That’s all?” “Well, I suppose the glowy aura and mystical cryptic behavior finally makes sense.” You expect fear—but she just smiles. “So, how do I get blessed by a goddess? Asking for a friend.”

IF YOU WANT THIS FOR THE KAMABOKO SQUAD OR EVEN UPPER MOONS OR MHA GUYS TOO??? JUST SAY THE WORD BAE 💅💗

#demon slayer x y/n #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer #demon slayer kimetsu no yaiba #kny x y/n #kny x you #kny x reader #kny #merafan #hashira x reader

50 notes · View notes

insomniactic-daydream · 10 months ago

Text

Really?- Bakugo x Reader

Bakugo x Support Course Shoto's Twin Sister Reader (Part 5)

<- (Previous Part 4)

Summary: Y/n and Bakugo being supportive love sick idiots. (I'm too lazy to write a summary rn)

"What is this shit? Why is the fabric weird?"

"Those are your gloves. They'll help you adjust to the seasonal changes. Warmer in the winter and even more sweat in these warmer temperatures.

It's made with metal thread produced by yours truly. That way, they dont wear out easily." you say while tidying up some screws.

Bakugo's questioning has been going on for the last few minutes. If you didn't know better, you'd think he's trying to take your place in the support course. You swear he's taking up all the oxygen in the unventilated shed; nothing but an open window.

"You spent time sewing this shit together after creating the thread?"

"I am the best, aren't I?" You say, looking up from the gauntlets to meet his eyes with a smirk. He quickly turns his head in another direction, avoiding being caught flustered.

"Tch, as if. I just didn't think you losers had to put together so much shit just for one hero's gear." He grumbles, taking on a new appreciation to support course people and workers.

"Well, now you know not to be cheap when it comes to your agency's gear in the future, right Number One?" You say before grabbing the gloves and one of his arms.

You slip his hands into the fingerless gloves; shockingly compliant. Meanwhile, Bakugo is wondering how the hell your hands are so soft given your job. One of the pros of having a lava quirk.

"Tch damn right, nerd. Now the hell are we doing now?" He says, eyeing Y/n's calm and zone in look on her face.

"Do you ever stop asking questions? We're assembling your shit together already. If anything too tight or loose, tell me, and I'll adjust it. " You say as he examines the gauntlets on his arms, opening and closing his fists.

"One of the rings for my ultimate blast is a bit snug. It's making harder to pull on to activate it." He says while Y/n grabs the defective gauntlet pulling out the ring.

Y/n also grabs his hand again while heating up the ring with her quirk and goes to the finger in question; which so happens to be his ring finger.

"Oi, what the hell do yo -" Bakugo says in fear for his finger to be charred off or 3rd degree burns at least. He pauses as he realizes the ring is also being cooled down with your ice quirk.

"What too soon for you to say yes?" you say through a chuckle, jokingly makes it seem she's proposing to him.

That's when Bakugo quirk goes off, earning a little harmless explosion to Y/n's face. Even Bakugo was not sure he meant to do that, but he quickly composed himself.

"You're an idiot." He says, rolling his eyes and his face away from you. You let out a giggle.

"What? If this this career doesn't work out for me I had to make sure I'm rich somehow." She says sarcastically.

"Your father is literally loaded, dumbass." He says to you; now chuckling at your stupid joke. Totally forgetting that you almost burned his finger off. (He's being overdramatic)

You were an idiot he thought. But something warm erupted in his chest, thinking about your unwavering confidence in him to be number one in the future.

You always refer to his goal as something you believe he can actually achieve. You don't criticize his personality or tell him it's impossible with an ego like his. You actually think he's going to be someone big someday.

And if he were honest with himself, he wouldn't mind if you're there when he does make his dream a reality.

"Hm, I guess you're right." You say laughing, and you help him reattach parts of the gauntlets.

"Besides, you're not half bad at this shit. I don't think you'll fail even if you tried." He grumbles softly, almost embarrassed he's complimenting you.

"Guess I proved myself to you, huh then number one?" You look up to make eye contact with him.

He stares back intensely. Like a trance, he can't shake off.

"I guess you did, idiot." He says softly. He admit he had his reservations about you, but you ended up proving him wrong in the such short duration of time you've known each other.

The room falls silent for a while. Nobody mentioned the moment that just happened between them. Too stubborn to say the obvious.

"So why the support course? And how come not your brother too?" Bakugo says, clearing his throat into a new conversation. Y/n, let's out a pondering hum.

"Hm, well, I did get my quirk a little later than him. I was always around my dad, but he only focused on training Shoto for the time being."

"I'd usually stay around the agency when I was younger while my mother took care of my siblings at home. That's how I ended being looked after by the agency's support crew." You say with a shrug.

The information made Bakugo uneasy. How come your mother didn't take care of you? But your speaking cut off his thoughts.

"From then, I already learned the basics. And so, even when my quirk came and my dad pushed me towards becoming a hero, I knew that I wanted to make support gear. And I wanted to be the best at it." You say with a smile as you adjust the newly fitted ring back into the now newly completed gauntlets.

"Well, if my gauntlets serve any proof, I'd say your smartass is already halfway there." Bakugo says wholeheartedly to you. Hoping his words gave you an ounce of confidence you've given him.

"Really?"

"Really"

"Guess I should charge you extra then, huh? I mean, I'm going to be in pretty high demand then."

"You know what. I take it back."

As if he wouldn't pay top dollar for you if that were the case.

(Part 6) ->

I literally cringed writing this. Idk why I can't write lovey stuff 😭

Tag List 💜: @queenriki7 @bumblebeebutter @mochimommy2002 @s3mis3m1 @your-mum3000 @juniper-july19 @finalgirlflunkie @sara4uuu @michiviv @romantasynerd05

Want to be on the Tag List? Click Here!

#x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #mha #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugo #bhna bakugo #mha bakugou #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x you

130 notes · View notes

all444miles · 2 years ago

Note

can you please do 42!miles with a baddie like a Megan type vibe? SHE HAS A PINK JEEP

💗💗💗💗

— SHE A BADDIE

— pairing: e42!miles x fem!black!reader — genre: fluff — summary: what its like for 42 miles to date a reader with a "baddie like megan" vibe. — a/n : i felt like i was a lil lazy writing this, sorry ! can yall tell i got excited abt the jeep n the attitude part.. its litch what kept me writing this whole thing 😭 also, a car creeper is those lil things u slide under to fix the underside of ur car — a/n 2: changed the way i start writin a jus a lil, petition for head over heels 42 miles supremacy !! + this was so fun.. like i was writing this n i was like "lemme be this when i grow up" LMAOOO so ty for the request anonnn, mwah and enjoy !!

MILES FALLS IN LOVE with you every second. like, honestly, just do anything, he's wrapped around your finger.

maybe he'll try and hide it, but you make him fold 24/7. you dont even have to do nothing.

it's just something about your energy, the way you dont give a damn about nothing, he just loves it. y'all are like beast boy and raven.

"mama, you killin' me right now." "hm? did i do somethin'?" "i love you so, so much. i swear, you make me weak." "aww, hun, I love you more." "yeah, keep dreamin'. now, lemme love on you."

hype man, hype man, HYPE MANN

when I say if you want to do anything he's here for it, he's here for it.

you wanna get your hair done? he's at your service.

you wanna go to the mall? he's already throwing you the keys to your jeep.

you wanna get your nails done? show him your options (he always likes the french tips, esp this.)

"Y'know Miles, i think this set ain't looking too good no more.." "You wanna get new nails?" "Mhm, wanna help me pick?" "'Course I do, let's see em."

does not care what you wear, he's always gonna say you look gorgeous. plus, he can fight. but, he's always got his hands on your waist. always.

you're your own girl, he knows that. he spoils you, yes, but he'll always let you do your own thing.

he can't explain it, but when you refer to him as "my man", or your anything, really, it does something to his heart.

yk when latto goes "ty to my man"? yeah, that's you.

"My nails? Yeah, my man helped me pick 'em."

you have attitude. Miles doesn't mind, he's a "yes ma'am" kind of guy, but if it's to him, hes gonna shut you down.

a lot of the times, you won't care, and it won't end in an argument, becuase he's still shutting you down regardless.

"Miles, you lost your shit or sum." "Amor, drop that tone f'me, aight?"

you are a party animal, and Miles? He'll just be in the back, watching you do your thing with your friends. If you ask him to dance with you though, he will for sure.

Will he throw money on you? Yes, yes he will. (Not sexual btw !)

Your jeep. He has his own car, but he honestly loves yours the best.

He helped you decorate it, all pretty and pink

He will happily get in your jeep while you blast Megan or Rihanna because c'mon now, who wouldnt?

I'm insistent he's good with mechanics, so he'll tune your car whenever you need him to, bryson tiller or tory lanez playing while he does so. (i'm losing my shit rn.)

"Cariño, ¿puedes pasarme esa llave inglesa? It's to ya left." (Baby, can you pass me that wrench?)

he'd say, sliding out from the car creeper under the hood of your pink jeep, sliding back in after you passed him the tool.

and after about 15 minutes, he'd come back out, putting a dirty cloth over his shoulder, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

its a sight to see: white tank top, slightly stained with grime from fixing your car; his favorite gold chain glistened in the sun, adorned with beaded glints of sweat from his neck.

"Aight, i think she's good, you can start her up if you wanna." "Yay! thank you for fixing my car, baby, I love youu."

you'd squeal, wrapping your arms around his neck to plant a kiss on his cheek, your pink tinted lip gloss staining his face.

"Ain't no problem princesa, I love you too."

likes, reblogs, comments and asks are always appreciated !

949 notes · View notes

shiftingparadise · 1 year ago

Note

I don’t know if your busy rn but there is a shortage in FEITAN x readers books and ya girl is dying. I know your inbox is like huge probably but anyways.. IF YOU DO TYSM AND IF YOU DONT TYSM FOR READING ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️😻😻😻🥲🥲🫶🫶🫶🫶

Sorry it took so long. I hope you like this :) In this story, Feitan is similar to my others works. So he isn’t particularly very kind in the beginning. I’m working on your requests now, so if you have one don’t be afraid to send me a message or to ask one! Keep in mind that I have a couple left to do, so I’m only asking for some patience :3.

If you enjoy my stories it would be really great if you could buy me a coffee with the link in my bio 😇. HOWEVER DON’T FEEL OBLIGED TO DO SO. I’m only saying this because someone did a week ago and it felt really nice 🥹. I really enjoy writing for you guys either way 🤍✨

PS: I wanted to write another part of this, let me know if I should :)

Warnings: smut and angst.

Word count: 3455

“Be careful, don’t let your heart fool you”, my father took another sip from his coffee, “You’ve got to be sure he isn’t after our money”. “How can you say something like that?”. “I only want what’s best for you. You know that”. “I know him. He would never do anything to hurt me”, you slowly stood up. For some reason, your father’s office never seemed so small before. “Fine”, my father sighed, “Invite him over for dinner”.

You closed your eyes, tears streaming down your cheeks as you remembered the conversation with your father. You didn’t know. You really didn’t. How could you know that he was a Spider? That he was only playing a part? Right, in hindsight everything did seem a little fishy. The way he was suddenly there when you needed a shoulder to cry on. Or the way his name didn’t seem to truly ‘fit’ him. Jacob. He didn’t look like a Jacob at all. How could you be this dumb? Life isn’t like the fairytales and you were an idiot to think it could be.

“Where is she?”.

You couldn’t help but shiver. That voice used to be so familiar. So warm and soft.

“Boss told us to keep her in here”, the blonde that stood in front of the door answered. “It’s nice in there, Fei. She has a nice bed and lots of books”, a misguidingly soft voice answered.

The girl seemed so sweet, with her big glasses and her soft eyes. You couldn’t understand how she could be part of a gang like this.

“I don’t care”, Feitan coldly replied before walking past his comrades.

Your stomach started to turn. You couldn’t look at him. You wanted to keep your memories clean from any stains; to remember him the way you knew him. Kind and soft-hearted.

“Look at me”. “No”, you softly answered as you kept your gaze locked on the ground. “I said look at me”, his hands roughly grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “I don’t want to”, you almost whispered as you tried not to cry. “Look at me”.

You flinched as you felt the tip of his knife against your cheek. The same place he used to kiss you before wishing you goodnight.

You looked up at him with glossy eyes, not daring to say anything. “Are you scared?”, his cold eyes pierced through your skull. “Yes”, you softly agreed while studying his face. He was nothing like the man you used to know.

His facial features were so cold and distant. As if he was frozen in ice for hundreds of years. You couldn’t see half of his face, as it was covered with the coat he was wearing. It was decorated with a skull, making him even more morbid.

“Good”, he roughly pulled away as he lowered his knife to your throat. “Why are you doing this?”, your chin high. “Why?”, he repeated the question while once again lowering his knife. Letting the cold metal rest just beneath your collarbone. Your breathing got heavier as fear’s grip tightened around your body.

You didn’t know he wasn’t the head of this organization, that this wasn’t his plan. To you, he was the man with all the answers. The one who planned this whole scheme.

“If you want money-“, you were cut short by the back of his hand. “Only speak when I tell you to”.

He wasn’t that tall, but the way he hit you made him seem like the devil. Even though you couldn’t see, you knew there was this cruel grin on his face. You could tell by the way his eyes narrowed.

“Too hard”, his thumb grazed over your cheek. “Or you’re just too fragile”, he lowered his collar to lick up the drop of blood on his thumb. “Don’t cry”, he kneeled before you, “We’re going to have a lot more fun than this”. “Fei?”, the sweet-looking girl suddenly stood next to him. “What, Shizuku?”, Feitan sighed before standing up again. “Boss said not to hurt her, remember?”, her finger resting on her lip. “Tsk”, he clicked his tongue before leaving. “Don’t worry”, the girl cheerfully smiled, “We only need some kind of code. I’m sure your father will give it to us soon”. “Code?”, your eyes widened, “H-he won’t give it!”, you hastily got up from the bed you were sitting on. “Huh? He won’t?”, the girl widened her eyes.

You knew your father. He would never risk the nation’s, no the world’s, safety. Not even for his own daughter.

“You’re after the code for the nuclear weapons, right?”. “I guess… I don’t remember to be honest”, she looked down at the ground. “Listen, my father will never give that code. J-just ask our president-“. “But only your father knows that code, since he’s head of security”, the girl happily smiled, causing you to shiver. “Yo, Shizu”, the blonde angrily yelled from the door. “Huh?”, she looked behind her. “Shut up before you tell her our whole plan”. “Oh right”, she giggled before leaving.

——

“Get the girl, Phinks”, Feitan coldly sighed from behind your door.

You tucked your knees even tighter to your chest. You didn’t know what was going to happen. Were they going to kill you? Torture you?

“Get up”, Phinks roughly grabbed your arm and pulled you from the bed. “Let go!”, you tried to struggle, to break free from his grip. “You want me to get Feitan?”, he gritted his teeth. A threat he didn’t have to make twice.

You hastily stopped struggling, now following him into the main room of the abandoned building. The stones underneath your feet felt exceptionally cold, and the nightgown you were wearing didn’t really help to keep you warm.

“She’s freezing”, a voice too soft now greeted your ears, “Put this on her”.

You looked up to a tall figure. His hair was pitch black and there was this kind of cross tattooed on his forehead. He was an exceptionally good-looking man, but somehow his skin was just as cold-looking as Feitan. It didn’t match his kind voice at all.

“Here”, Phinks threw the coat at your feet. “I said put it on”, the dark-haired man smiled, “She can’t put it on when her hands are tied, can she? “Tsk”, the blonde picked up the coat before throwing it over your shoulders.

You scanned the room. There were about 10 people in the room. Some of them just looked evil, but others looked as innocent as a child. Especially a blonde-haired guy with big, green eyes.

“Your father won’t give us the code. Do you-”, the soft voice broke through your thoughts. “Who are you?“.

“Huh?”, you froze in fear as Feitan’s knife was once again pressed to the soft skin of your neck. You didn’t see him move. It felt as if he had just teleported to you.

“Tsk”, his eyes found yours, “How dare you interrupt boss?”. “Come now, Feitan”, the man now walked towards you, stopping before you. Without any warning, his fingers glided over your cheek, “You couldn’t contain yourself before, but you have to now”. Feitan immediately stepped away from you, discontent hidden in his eyes. “Feitan has a hard time holding himself back from… Fun”, the man smiled, “But it seems he did his best with you. I rarely get to see a hostage without any cuts or broken fingers”. “Lucky me”, you sarcastically answered while holding eye contact. “Yes, but keep in mind that luck doesn’t last forever”, he chuckled. “I’m Chrollo. Head of the Spiders”, he walked back to the stairs he was sitting on earlier. “My father isn’t going to give up the code. Not even for me”. “Yes, he made that very clear”, Chrollo replied. “Let me go and I promise my father will give you a generous reward”, your heart racing. “We have more than enough money. Besides, we can’t let you go. You know all of our names. Well… you’ll get to know them”. “What does that mean?”, you took a step back. “Feitan wanted you as a reward during this mission. So whether we’ll get the code or not, you’re not leaving”, Chrollo’s eyes glittered in the dark. “I-I don’t want to”, you started to panic. “Don’t care”, Feitan’s voice was only fuel to your fear. “From now on, you belong to Feitan”, Chrollo signaled Phinks to free your hands. “Keep the coat. I don’t think Feitan cares if you’re cold. You’ll be at least warm that way”, Chrollo spoke as if Feitan wasn’t there. “Right”, Feitan smirked. “At least get her some proper clothing, Fei”, Chrollo coldly looked at his Spider before dismissing everyone.

——

“Here”, Feitan threw a couple of bags on your bed the next day. “Proper clothes”, he leaned against the door.

After Chrollo dismissed everyone, Feitan took you with him to the house he was currently living in. It was a big and luxurious house. It wasn’t really decorated with furniture, only the necessary things like a couch, a dinner table, some paintings on the wall… And the room you were staying in was just as empty. There was a bed, a luxurious bathroom, and a big, walk-in closet that was empty of course.

“Proper clothes?”, your brows pulled together as you pulled a dress out of one of the bags. “This is a Prada dress?”. “I want you to look pretty”, Feitan looked up at the ceiling. “I’ll get you clothes every week. They won’t last long anyway”, his eyes now darted to yours.

Your stomach turned. You could only imagine what he was going to do to you.

“Wear this one for now”, Feitan slowly walked to your bed before handing you another bag. “For dinner. Hired some chef”. “I’m not hungry”, you clenched your jaw. “I don’t care”, he once again grabbed your jaw, “You’ll do as I say. Got it?”, his lips hovering next to your ear. “I’ve been kind until now, haven’t I? I behaved, so you’ll behave too”.

You didn’t answer, you just nodded in response.

“Good. Now put it on”, he leaned back. “N-now?”, you looked up at him with fear in your eyes. “Yes, want to see your body one last time before I have fun with it”. “What do you mean?”, you tried to keep your voice steady. “Put it on”, his cold gaze let you know his patience was running thin.

With shaking hands, you pulled out the nightgown you were wearing from when Feitan kidnapped you. You weren’t wearing anything underneath it, but that didn’t faze you. Feitan had seen your body many times by now. He used to place kisses all over it, making you feel like no one ever had before.

“This one?”, you covered your breasts with your arm. “Yes”, he got closer. You pulled out a beautiful, black dress from the back.

It wasn’t especially short, but it wasn’t long either. The fabric ended just above your knees. It was a tight dress until your belly, where it opened up like a flower. It was a beautiful dress, no doubt about it.

“I’ll close it”, Feitan guided you to a mirror before his hands glided along your waist.

His touch didn’t seem rough at all. It felt just as before.

“You like it?”, he took a step back when he zipped up the dress for you. “Hm”, you nodded in agreement. “Dinner’s at 7”, he cleared his throat before leaving you again.

——

You couldn’t eat. There was this lump in your throat that made it feel like you’d throw up if any kind of food entered your mouth.

“I thought sushi was your favorite”, Feitan was sitting on the other end of the table. “It is”, you hastily picked up some food, fearing what might happen if you didn’t eat. “It’s really good”, your eyes widened.

You didn’t realize how much your body needed some kind of fuel. You didn’t eat for at least 2 days now, and you only realized now how hungry you truly were.

“One of the best sushi chefs”, Feitan looked at the kitchen behind him where the chef was preparing more food. He seemed in distress, probably because Feitan made sure he wouldn’t tell a soul you were with him.

After dinner, Feitan guided you back to your room.

“Can I go to sleep?”, you softly asked as you sat down on your bed. “Sleep?”, he tilted his head, “No, it’s time for me to have some fun”. “Fun?”, your breathing started to fasten. “Fun”, his eyes lit up before roughly grabbing your arm and pulling you to another room.

There was nothing in the room except for a chair and a bed. Without any warning, he threw you on the bed and tied your wrists to it.

“What are you going to do?”, your eyes already glossy. “Whatever I want”, a knife in his hand as he slowly crawled on top of you. “I’ve wanted to take you like this since the first time we met”, his nose taking in the scent of your hair. “You know how hard it is to hold back when you’re this pretty? It was almost hard for me to finish at times because you were so boring… Always begging me to kiss you, to take you slow, … I hated it”.

You didn’t answer. There was nothing for you to say. Even when he showed some kindness earlier, you should’ve prepared yourself for this.

He swiftly cut the straps of your dress with his knife, causing it to slide down just beneath your breasts. “Stay still”, his knife firmly pressed against your throat as he noticed you were starting to kick your legs. “Please”, tears streamed down your cheek as he licked up a drop of your blood. “Don’t worry, you’re going to like this”, he looked into your eyes before cupping your cheek, “I’ll be rough, but I won’t be a monster. I know you’re body and when it’s ready for me. Even though you won’t admit it, I know you’ve been craving my touch. I saw it earlier when you were undressing in front of me… Your legs were rubbing against each other when I zipped up your dress. You only do that when you want me”.

Yes. No. Maybe. You knew he was right. Earlier… You wanted him, but you tried to push those thoughts away as much as you could. He wasn’t the man you knew. He was a psychopath, how could you want someone like him?

“Now, stay still”, his nails dug into the soft flesh of your waist as he pulled up your dress with the other. “Feitan, please”, another tear was streaming down your cheek. “Say it. Tell me you want me to stop”, his knee pushed your legs open as his digits hovered over your most sensitive spot. “I’ll stop if you do”, a devilish smirk in his eyes.

But you didn’t want him to. You didn’t care if he was going to be rough, or if he was even going to hurt you. You wanted him.

“See?”, he chuckled at a lack of answer. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? You’ve never been this wet for me”, he softly bit on your shoulder. You closed your eyes as you were still trying to fight yourself. “I asked you a question”, his hand wrapped around your throat as he bit your shoulder again. Only harder this time. “S-shit”, you cried out in pain. “I’m going to cover you in bitemarks for ignoring my question”, he loosened his grip around your neck while his fingers slowly entered you. “Fuck”, you arched your back as he left bite marks on your body.

You couldn’t deny it any longer. He made you feel good, better than he ever did.

“Tsk”, Feitan frowned when you came undone around his fingers, “Wasn’t expecting you to enjoy this”. “I-I’m not”, you avoided his gaze as your cheeks turned red. “Liar”, he softly hummed while undressing himself.

Your eyes were glued to his body. Now it was clear why he never took off his shirt.

“Who did that to you?”, you quietly whispered as you noticed his scars. For a second, his eyes widened while his lips were slightly parted.

There was this short-lived moment in his mind where he wanted to let you in and where he wanted you to care for him. An unwilling memory of your arms wrapped around him flashed before his eyes.

“Shut up”, his eyes went dark again, “Don’t talk”.

Afraid of being enchanted by your warm voice again, he thought it better not to hear your voice at all.

He didn’t ask if you were ready for him. It was unnecessary. By now, your legs are already wrapped willingly around his waist. “Feitan”, your eyes closed as his forehead was pressed against yours. “Don’t”, Feitan grunted as he got even rougher, “I don’t want you to enjoy this”.

That was a lie. He wanted you to, more than anything. It wasn’t his intention for you to enjoy this, and he surely didn’t want to leave you so perfectly. In his mind, he wanted to hurt you, to make you bleed, just as he did with all those before you. That’s what he enjoyed. Torture. Not this. This wasn’t like him, and it made him mad but there was nothing he could do. He didn’t want to hurt you, more so, it would even make him feel bad about himself.

“Sorry”, your lips pressed against each other as a whisper left your chest. “Fuck”, he grunted in agitation.

He didn’t know what to do, but this didn’t feel right.

“Tell me”, he clenched his jaw at the realization of how soft he had gotten for you. “W-what?”, you looked to the side. “Tell me you want me, please”, his eyes were glued to a bitemark he left.

He couldn’t lie. The bruises looked so good on your body, but only because you enjoyed it. If he did something like that while you were crying, begging him to stop…

“I want you, Feitan”, your soft voice melted something inside him as if a fire was lit inside his heart. “Even now? Even when you see who I truly am?”.

“Even now”.

Without thinking twice, he cut the rope that was holding you down.

“Touch me. Like you used to”, he softly grabbed your wrist before placing your hand on the back of his head.

You obeyed as you softly tugged at his dark hair.

“I don’t want to take you slowly like I used to, Y/N”. “You don’t have to”, your legs tightened around his waist.

That was all he needed to hear. Without any hesitation, his lips crashed against yours.

“You feel so good”, your breathing got heavier as you could feel he was getting close. “Yeah?”, his voice low, “Want me to breed you?”. You hastily nodded as you could feel yourself getting closer to your own climax. “Really?”, he chuckled, “You never let me come inside you before. Always crying about being scared to get pregnant”. “P-please Feitan”, you arched your back. “Don’t worry. I’m going to fill you up this time, whether you want me to or not”.

Your legs now started to shake as you came undone around him.

“That’s it. Good girl”, Feitan grabbed your jaw, “Now look at me and beg”. “P-please Fei, want you to come inside me”. “Want me to put a baby in you? Making you mine forever?”. “P-please”.

Feitan couldn’t contain himself any longer. With heavy breaths and low grunts, he let his head rest against your shoulder.

“Never felt so good”, he slowly pulled out, before placing a soft kiss on the bitemark he left on your shoulder. “Hm”, you happily smiled.

He didn’t know why he decided to act cold again. Honestly, he hated himself for it, but there was something inside him. A feeling he never felt before. Was it fear? Was he scared that you were going to leave him? No. You couldn’t leave him. He kidnapped you and you had nowhere to go. It was something else. He knew you weren’t going to leave, but he was scared you were going to hate him for what he did. Or rather, for who he was. You didn’t know the real him.

“Don’t think this will happen again”, he coldly got up, “You won’t enjoy this next time”.

You lowered your eyes as you watched him put on his clothes.

“Can I-“.

“Go to your room and shower. I don’t care what you do for the rest of the night”, he clenched his jaw before leaving you alone.

266 notes · View notes

snzydarling · 18 days ago

Note

ooooo, prompts you say??~

knowing how much I love when someone requests one of my lil guys so I can write them in a fun situation, I'm gonna toss you a f/ukuzawa, aaaaaaand add to it a side of cat allergies +M/ori involvement

do with that as you will, you can choose if the M/ori involvement is minimal, antagonist, helpful, anything you want, just gives you a lil thing to work with~ <3 excited to see what you may cook up if you so choose to!!~

hello !!! you gave me this and i ran with it so hard. thank u for the ask and i def had a lot of fun with this,...... i hope u enjoy it too !!

Nothing Beyond my Grasp

fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs characters: Fukuzawa Yukichi, Mori Ougai cw: sneezing kink !! mess, vouyerism, implied character with kink notes: hi it is 3 am i am so tired goodnight. you guys are lucky imm too tired to be embarrased rn because this is the horniest thing ive written so far !!! its a little kinky. i really like to explore their dynamic in a kind of unconventional way. i dont know if alot of people know about fukuzawas ex-assassin stuff because it was never really directly stated in anything besideds the novel but thats !! why !! hes basically silent throughout this whole thing. in the novel it says he walks compltelty silently most of the time so i think thats such an unconcious habit and it also splays out through most of his life. enjoy. iam going to pass out now gutten night !!!!

Very quickly, Fukuzawa had turned into one of Mori’s favorite people to study. In his unique line of work, he met plenty of unusual people, but none quite like him. Fukuzawa was mysterious- nearly silent, prone to snarling when provoked, and reminded him altogether of a caged wild dog. Really, ‘Silver Wolf’ was the perfect name for him.

Earlier in the evening, Elise had dragged in a bedraggled-looking stray, and entirely susceptible to her, he allowed her to keep it until she got bored with it. Not that they had much choice, anyway- it had taken to whipping its tail about in the corner and hissing as soon as she released it. Mori found himself glancing at the time more often after that. This was a new chance to study Fukuzawa. How would he react? Would he open his heart to another stray? He already had one.

Ever habitual, punctual as a means of politeness, Fukuzawa swings the door to his humble office open as soon as the clock strikes 9 p.m. He looked weary, the combination of preparing to open his agency and body guard work clearly taking its toll. Mori liked to see it- it lowered his guard.

As Fukuzawa moved to his usual spot he passed the spot where the cat had chosen to reside, which took his closeness as a threat and started to hiss and swat. Mori honed in on Fukuzawa’s face, watching the softness in his eyes. He kneels down, palms open, posture soft.

Mori snorts as Fukuzawa slips a treat from his sleeve, holding it out in offering. He doesn’t expose his hands very often, so Mori studies them closely. Calloused from years of sword fighting, etched with fading scars and an array of scratches. Clearly, this is a hobby of his.

He watches as one hand slowly stretches the treat forwards as the other one seriously knucks the underside of his nose, pulling at a particularly long scar. Mori wants to know what its from, but he knows better than to ask. He would never receive an answer. Fukuzawa appears to be making some progress, as the cat starts slinking along nervously, gaining confidence, until Fukuawa twitches into himself. It hisses and jumps back, pressing into the wall as he does it again. The movement leaves Mori quirking an tebow. Fukuzawa moves in a way that is meticulous and calculated, and something so unintentional is novel. Is exhaustion getting to him that badly? The thought sends a shiver down his spine.

Regardless of whatever is weighing him down, Fukuzawa appears to be undeterred. He fully sits down, placing the treat on his lap, and fixes Mori with his usual cold stare. “Where did she come from?” he asks, sounding almost.. Concerned? It's hard to tell with him, and Mori’s not quite familiar enough to parse every micro-intonation, yet. He gives a lazy shrug. “Elise brought it in. Feel free to take it, I dont like dirty things.” He lets the implications hang in the air, relishing the way Fukuzawa’s brow furrows. Always so easy to push. He might not be the only source, he realizes, because he soon scrunches up the bridge of his nose too, and shutters into a raised hand, twice in succession, before sniffing and giving his head a small shake.

Suddenly, Mori realizes what happened the first time. He decides to stay silent, and

feigns interest in his work while watching Fukuzawa from the corner of his eye. He observes him as he tends to his nose repeatedly, staring off with a hazy kind of expression. He also bears witness to the stray bringing itself to Fukuzawa again, settling in his lap, and makes sure to note down the look of joy.

He chuckles at the absurdity of the scene in front of him. “Looks like you’ve got quite a way with strays.” he muses. Fukuzawa starts, apparently haven forgotten about him altogether. How irresponsible. “Are you going to manage to keep me safe like that?” He teases, tiring of this silent treatment. Fukuzawa scrubs at his nose again, answering with a curt “I’ll manage.” that’s a bit fuzzy around the edges. He doesn’t bother to bring up what they both know- Mori doesn’t need his protection.

He finds himself developing a particular interest in Fukuzawa’s nose, which has started to crease, and develop irritated redness around the rims. The abuse is certainly doing him no favors- he watches it be crushed against a palm when it starts to twitch. Fukuzawa even, almost meditative, breathing has started to stutter, just barely visible underneath all of his layers, but Mori knows better than to think he’ll get a show that easily. He’s going to have to work for it.

“Got a tickle?” Hw pried, not like he needed to confirm it. His response comes in a rough head-shake, and he rests his head in his hand, sighing. “Use your words, Fukuawa.” He chides. The man in question curls his lip, but obeys anyways, a breathy “No.” that catches in his throat. He presses another harsh knuckle to the side of his nose, eyelashes fluttering, and flinches into his hand again. A breath escapes this time, stuffy and unsatisfied, and Mori has to swallow down his delight. Fukuzawa is so easy to manipulate- he can’t help but try his luck.

“Really? You look awfully itchy, though. What's gotten into you?” Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t get a response, though the more accurate notion is that he can’t, because Fukuzawa jolts into his shoulder again.

“hH'EHSCHHh-!” it’s greater than any other sneeze Mori has heard out of him, desperate to break free. Fukuzawa’s whole face sparks with irritation, and he pinches the next one between his thumb and forefinger. It squelches with the pressure.

With another shuddering exhale, he glares at Mori. “Nothings wrong.” he declared, but with congestion thick in his throat, so it came out all wrong. Mori scoffs. “Use a tissue, atleast.” He doesn’t get a response, unless a ticklish, smothered cough counts.

Mori actually focuses on his work for a couple of minutes, and when he turns his attention back to Fukuzawa, he can’t contain his shock. His condition has considerably worsened. He’s mid sneezing fit, crushing release after release between pinched fingers, and a tear rolls down his cheek. He looks so utterly pathetic, heat starts to pool in Mori’s gut. Fukuzawa manages to quell the fit without a single noise leaking through, a rather impressive feat. He tends to his nose again, now a dark pink. When he angles his face just right, Mori can see wetness threatening to spill over.

All this abuse seems to do him more harm than good, because not even a minute after his previous attack is he hitching again, canine teeth catching the light, and choking down another volley. He’s not as lucky this time- sound starts to leak out between his fingertips, a preview of what is surely soon to come. Husky gasps and stuttery exhales announce the start and end of each sneeze, only agitating Fukuzawa more. He almost seems to growl as he pants for breath, scrubbing at his nose once again, like it’s offered him any relief thus far. Mori watches the skin crinkle and stretch. He frowns down at Fukuzawa, itchy and irritated and so extremely allergic. What a fool.

“You really shouldn’t stew in an allergen. Really, Fukuzawa, I thought you were smarter than that.” He bites his cheek, watching how the word alone is enough to make his breath catch again. Oh Fukuzawa, the master of self-control. He’s waging a war against his own nose, fighting tooth and nail to maintain his usual mask of indifference. It makes every quiver so much more noticable.

When he’s promptly ignored, Mori makes an effort to remove the mangy cat himself, but Fukuzawa quickly shifts back. The sudden movement breaks his concentration on wrestling control over himself, because he tears forward with a “eH'RSCHHh-oo!” What an incredible sound. So desperate and unrestrained. Mori wants to hear it again, wants to watch Fukuzawa hopelessly to himself, wants to pick apart every piece of it. And he’s always been one to make sure he gets what he wants.

Fukuzawa straightens his spine, face flush with irritation and perhaps a bit of embarrassment. He stares at Mori with a challenge in his expression, like he’s daring Mori to come after him. Mori’s not afraid of him, however, especially not in that state. He just needs to make him crack.

“I can’t believe you’re so willing to put up with such a tickle for a stray like that. Look at all of the fur, Fukuzawa. It’s all across your robes.” he’s smart enough to know what Mori’s doing, and make sure he knows it, but that means nothing. His breath still stutters. “It’s on your hands, too. You’ve been rubbing it all over your nose.” Mori clicks his tongue, scolding. “How careless.”’hiH-!” Fukuzawa’s eyes flutter closed, hands rising towards his face. The anticipation is almost too much.

“That must tickle, Fukuzawa. You look awfully itchy, like there’s fur in your nose.” That sends him over the edge. Mori’s stomach twists with anxiety. Fukuzawa takes in a ragged gasp, head tilted back towards the light, and gives Mori a glorious show.

“eH'RSCHHh-iewh! ‘RSZHHIh-! hiA'ESZHHUh-! hH’RSZHHh-oo!!” With each wretched sneeze, Fukuzawa is thrown further forward, bringing in more dander with every inhale. He’s hopeless to it, hands hovering uselessly, giving Mori a full view of the mess he’s made.

“e'ETSZHHh-! ‘ESCHHUh-! heH'RSZH-! ‘rRSZHHh-oo! hiH-! hiA'ETSCHh-!” They’re pitchy and vocal, unconstrainable. One particularly sonorus “ ‘RSCHHEUHh-!” sends the cat scampering off, and Mori almost purrs when its bushy tail runs directly under Fukuzawa’s nostrils. Oh, he's helpless.

“ hI'RSZHHh-! ‘ESCHHh-oo! hH'RSZHHEUHh-! ‘RSZHHih- hH'ESCHHh-oo! ‘DSCHHhih-!” He’s entirely doubled over now, and some small, still human part of Mori worries he might smother himself. He makes no motion to help. He never wants this to end, each release so pressure inducing. It’s simply too much.

All good things must come to an end, though, and Fukuzawa manages to wrangle himself under control. Raw, desperate sneezes are replaced by clipped stifles that still rock him forwards, and almost a full minute passes before he emerges, deeming himself out of the woods. Lord, he is wrecked. If Mori were a weaker man, his arousal would’ve been much more obvious. He manages to keep himself under control.

Fukuzawa’s face is flushed and swollen, his eyes red rimmed and eyelashes heavy with fat tears. Every panting breath he takes in has the slightest wheeze, so Mori takes pity on him and deicides to play his role as doctor. He makes short work of acquiring an anti-histimine, holding it out like a dog treat.

Fukuzawa doesn’t meet his eyes as he takes it, but hes polite enough to nod his thanks. He swallows it dry, throat clicking, and there’s silence once again until it breaks it with a snarling “‘RSZHHh-oo!” that escapes his clutches.

“Silver Wolf” was most certainly a fitting name.

#sneeze kink #sneeze #snz #sneeze fic #snz fic #sneezing #i am exhausted its like 4 am at this point #i was supposed to go to bed early wtf 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭#theres probably so many typos in this. dont tell me i dont want to know #i dont have msnt thoughts to share with you i just really like comparing Fukuzawa to a dog / wolf because he literally is #thats like his whole thing #also thank u so much for the req !!!@ i really had so much fun writing this it gave me an excuse to write out a concept ive had for a very #long time #i think the dynamic between these two is very interesting but its sooo hard to find fics abt it #because i fear im not a fan of fukumori #i have so many thoights about fuku but im too tired to share rhem #this is so random but what do hou guys listen to while you write???#bc i usually just listen to my reg playlist but it kind of. kills the mood #im tryna jack off why is radio head playing dafuq 😭😭😭😭#i need to be put down #goodnight #inhope hou ejjoy

21 notes · View notes