#and i very easily could’ve kept going

[rooniper]

Finally finished The Week Before today and I’m actively vibrating, like I honestly might post an entire essay about it sometime if I get to it because I already have two pages worth of notes and so many thoughts, there’s just so much to talk about

It’s just?? So good?? Like it has so much heart and soul put into it?? You can really tell the writers tried to flesh Phone Guy out, he’s such a fun point of view character (to be fair, I was already attached to him, but I bet if I knew nothing about him I’d feel very similarly about it). Coppelia is also just a really good addition, their interactions are so sweet and also surprisingly funny at times (no spoilers but there’s a specific high-tension scene at the very end of one of the routes in which the dialogue between them actually made me laugh out loud). It’s honestly just also funny in general, it’s got that FNAF absurdity humor down so perfectly, but also the more dramatic and/or sad scenes are also executed so well?? And and and

I’m just

[rmview]

they beg to be taken back, SKZ.

featuring — stray kids members x gn!reader ( masterlist )

summary — a reaction of how the stray kids boys realize they can’t live without you, and come to beg you for a second chance!

contents — angst, mentions of fights, possible reconciliation.

bang ♢ chan

bang chan had always been composed, the leader who held everyone together. but when you broke up with him, the cracks in his armor showed. he respected your decision and convinced himself that it was for the best, despite the emptiness growing unbearable.

he wasn’t himself since and the people around him began to notice. the usual spark in his eyes dimmed, and the weight of your absence felt suffocating. he replayed the last argument over and over in his head, agonizing over what he could’ve done differently. but as much as he respected your decision, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed to try, just one more time, to fight for what you both had.

it was late when he showed up at your doorstep, his hand hovering over the doorbell. when you answered, you were more than surprised to see him standing there, his shoulders slightly hunched as if he was carrying the weight of the world. his hair was disheveled, eyes rimmed red. he looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

“chan? what are you doing here?” the nickname slipped from your lips almost too easily and you suppressed the urge to recoil. being around him — being his, was too easy. even with the two months apart, one look into his eyes was all it took for everything to come rushing back.

“i… i needed to see you,” he said, his voice trembling slightly and his australian accent slightly thicker, which was a sign of his nervousness. “i know you said that it’s over, but i can’t accept it — not without trying to make things right.”

you felt something in your chest lurch, and for a few moments you were rendered speechless. a large part of you wanted to forget the fight and what lead up to it, but the smaller part of you kept reminding you of how alone he made you feel despite being together. “we’ve already talked about this. you need to let me go. i... i don’t want to go back to feeling the way i did.”

he shook his head, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. “i can’t just let you go,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “i know i messed up. i wasn’t there for you when you needed me most, i treated you like another responsibility, and i hate myself for it. but please, give me a chance to prove that i can do better. i can’t lose you like this.”

“chan…” you looked away, your heart breaking at the vulnerability in his voice. your own eyes blurred with tears and you tried to blink them away.

“i know i’m asking a lot,” he continued, taking a tentative step closer. his hands itched with the need to reach out for your waist; the feeling of your skin under his palms a muscle memory. “but i love you. i love you more than anything, and i can’t imagine my life without you in it. tell me what i need to do, and i’ll do it. just… don’t give up on us.”

his desperation was raw and unfiltered, and it was clear that he’d spent every waking moment thinking about this moment. whether you took him back or not, he was determined to fight for you until the very end.

felix ♢

felix was a wreck after the breakup. the ever-present sunshine in his personality dimmed, replaced by a quiet sadness that the others noticed but didn’t know how to fix. he replayed the moments leading up to your decision endlessly, wondering where he went wrong. no matter how hard he tried to respect your choice and acknowledge his mistakes, his heart refused to let it go.

one rainy evening, he found himself standing in the reception office of your workplace while soaked to the bone. he didn’t care that the receptionist was eyeing him in annoyance for dripping on the floors, or that he looked homeless from his red-rimmed eyes and masked face. when you finally made your way down after a call from your superiors, you were shocked.

“felix? what the hell?” you whisper-yelled, your voice laced with concern despite the shock as you grasped his arms to lead him to the bathrooms instead of the ac-blasting reception so he wouldn’t get sick.

“i had to see you,” he said, his voice trembling. both from the cold and his overwhelming feelings. “i couldn’t just… let it end like that.”

you sighed, grasping his freezing hands in yours and holding it under the hot air of the hand drier, not caring that you were in the men’s room. felix couldn’t care less either as he momentarily basked in the feeling of your soft hands in his after so long. “i know i hurt you, and i hate myself for it. but i can’t let you go without telling you how much you mean to me.”

“and you thought this was the smartest way to do it? by getting yourself sick?” you shook your head, trying to keep your emotions in check. he broke your heart, you tried to remind yourself to keep yourself steely. it didn’t work.

“i know i made mistakes,” he continued, his voice breaking as he sniffled and you avoided his gaze and chalked it up to the cold. “i wasn’t there for you the way i should have been. but you… you’re everything to me. you’re the reason i smile, the reason i wake up in the morning. please, tell me how to fix this.”

his vulnerability was heart-wrenching and you felt your own eyes blur through your silence. felix didn’t look away from you the entire time, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “i’ll do anything, anything to make things right. just… don’t walk away from me. from us.”

as the rain continued to pour outside, felix stood there, baring his soul to you. he wasn’t just asking for forgiveness — he was offering every piece of himself, hoping it would be enough to convince you to take him back.

lee ♢ know

lee know was stubborn by nature, and after the breakup, he tried to convince himself he didn’t need anyone. he put on a brave face around the others, burying himself in practice and work. taking on excess time to keep his mind off you worked for a while, but even then every time he went home to the empty silence of his apartment, your absence hit him like a freight train.

his members began to notice his stubbornness and attempt to dismiss your relationship, giving him the space he needed as they hoped he’d work through it. but it began to become clear he was taking the ostrich’s way out — burying his head in the sand and pretending everything was fine.

it took weeks for him to swallow his pride and realize he didn’t want to deal with the emptiness anymore. the fight was so stupid and you were the love of his life, so why weren’t you together right now?

he wasn’t one to beg, but losing you was something he slowly realized he couldn’t bear. and so one evening after heavy contemplation, he found himself standing outside your apartment door, clutching his phone in one hand and a small bouquet of your favorite flowers in the other.

when you opened the door, you paused and your eyes widened in surprise. your treacherous heart missed a beat and you attempted to school your expression to normal. “minho? what are you doing here?”

“i, uh, i needed to see you,” he said, his usual cool demeanor replaced with a hesitance you rarely saw.

your mind flashed with the hurtful words he threw at you during the argument and you crossed your arms, leaning against the doorframe. “i thought we agreed that separating was for the best.”

“maybe i thought so at first,” he admitted, his voice soft but firm. “but i don’t think i can do this anymore. i can’t pretend that i’m okay being without you because i’m not.”

“minho…” you started, looking away as you didn’t know what to say.

“i know i don’t say it enough,” he interrupted, his gaze dropping to the ground. “but i love you. i loved you then, and i love you now. and i hate that i let you go without fighting for you. i hate that i was so stupid.”

“you hurt me,” you said, a slight wobble in your voice that you attempted to mask with by clearing your throat softly. but the hurt in your eyes was hard to miss. “i can’t just forget that.”

“i know,” he said, stepping closer. he put the flowers down on the floor by your feet as he took your hands in his, his palms warm. “and i don’t expect you to. but i want to make it up to you. i’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust again. because i mean it when i say i won’t make the same mistakes again.”

he squeezed your palms softly, bringing your fingers up to his lips. “i know i’m not the best at showing how much you mean to me. but you do — more than anything. and if there’s even the smallest part of you that still feels the same way, please… give me another chance.”

it wasn’t easy for lee know to open up like this, but the thought of losing you for good outweighed his fear of vulnerability and hesitance. whether or not you decided to take him back, he was determined to show you just how much you meant to him.

hyun ♢ jin

hyunjin wasn’t one to wear his heart on his sleeve, but the breakup managed to shatter the carefully built walls around his emotions. he threw himself into his art and practice, hoping it would drown out the ache in his chest. but no matter how many brushstrokes he painted or routines he perfected, nothing could fill the void you’d left behind.

while hoping to take a walk on evening , hyunjin mindlessly ended up walking into your favorite park, the place where you’d spent countless nights talking about dreams and fears. as usual, you were there sitting on the same bench you’d share, a book on your lap but your mind and gaze were elsewhere.

hyunjin stood there for a few moments, unable to look away until your wandering gaze settled on him. you paused, startled to see him there, his usually confident posture replaced by a tentative nervousness as he slowly walked to you.

“hyunjin?” you looked up at him, unsure if you should address him in public since your relationship was over. he was dressed in black, a mask covering the bottom half of his face, but you recognized him immediately.

he hesitated for aa moment before he sat down beside you, a small bittersweet smile tugging at his lips even though you couldn’t see it. “i wasn’t sure you’d be here,” he admitted.

“i didn’t know you’d be here either,” you replied cautiously, fidgeting with your book in your lap. would you have come if you knew? maybe, maybe not.

he took a deep breath, his gaze locking onto you even though you wouldn’t look back at him. “i just... i needed to see you. i can’t keep pretending i’m okay with this when i’m not.”

“hyunjin, we’ve already talked about this…”

“i know,” he interrupted, his voice heavy with emotion. “but i can’t let it end like this. i know i hurt you really bad, and i hate myself for it every day. i thought i was protecting you from this life and me, but all i did was push you away.”

your fingers softly tightened around the book, trying to calm yourself against the raw emotion in his voice. “it’s not that simple.”

“i know it’s not,” he said, scooting slightly closer. he couldn’t take his eyes off you. you were so pretty. “but i love you. i’ve always loved you, even when i was too scared to show it. and if there’s even a small part of you that still cares about me and what we had, then please… let me try to fix this.”

his voice broke as he added, “i’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if i have to. just… don’t give up on us. not yet.”

you finally looked up at him and your breath hitched at the proximity. the vulnerability in hyunjin’s eyes was almost too much for you to bear. he wasn’t just asking for forgiveness — he was offering every piece of himself, hoping it would be enough to convince you to give him one last chance. he wouldn’t lose you again.

i.n ♢

jeongin had never experienced heartbreak like this before. the breakup ended up hitting him harder than he ever thought possible. he spent days replaying the fight you both had in his head, wondering how he could’ve done things differently. his hyungs tried their best to cheer him up, but their efforts only seemed to highlight the emptiness he felt without you.

you were his first relationship, his first kiss, his first love and the woman he thought he’d marry some day. he’d questioned his success as an idol, he’d question his talents — but the lifetime of your relationship was one thing he never had to question. so to have that one dream shattered was more than the average heartbreak. jeongin would probably never date again.

only nine days had passed since you left, and after those 200 hours, jeongin couldn’t take it anymore. he knew your schedule in and out, and he knew exactly where you’d be on a weekend evening at 5.

he showed up at your favorite café, the place where you’d spent countless afternoons together and took a seat at the very booth you’d always sit at, counting down the minutes to when you’ll show up.

so when you walked in and spotted him sitting at your usual table, his nervous smile and the familiar warmth in his eyes caught you off guard.

“jeongin?” you asked cautiously as you approached, looking around the almost empty area. “what are you doing here?”

he stood up quickly, his hands fidgeting as he spoke, wanting to reach out to you. “hi. i… i wasn’t sure if you’d come here today, but i had to take the chance.”

you hesitated, unsure of what to say. it had barely been over a week since your breakup. “what do you want?”

“i want to apologize,” he said earnestly, his voice quiet but steady. he had already made up his mind. “and to ask for another chance.”

“jeongin, we already talked about this,” you replied, shaking your head softly. the argument was still fresh in your mind and you didn’t plan to give in anytime soon. yet one look into his puppy-like eyes was all it took. damn.

“i know that,” he said quickly, his words tumbling out in a rush. “but i can’t just let it end the way it did. i know i hurt you, and i know i wasn’t the boyfriend you deserved, but i want to make it right. i need to make it right.”

you sighed, hesitantly sitting down across from him. “it’s not that easy.”

“i know it’s not,” jeongin said, his gaze earnest. he was not going to leave without you. “but i love you. and i’ll do whatever it takes to prove that to you. i’ve been thinking about everything i did wrong, and i promise, i’ll be better. just… don’t shut me out completely. you don’t have to take me back now, but know i’m not going to let this be the end of us.”

his voice softened as he added, “i know i’m asking for a lot, but please… let me show you how much you mean to me. even if it seems a little too late.”

you found yourself softening against your will. jeongin’s sincerity was palpable, and the quiet determination in his eyes made it clear that he wasn’t giving up on you. whether or not you decided to take him back, he was willing to do whatever it took to make amends.

han ♢

han had always been known for his bright energy, and the way he could light up a room with his laughter. but ever since the breakup, his spark was gone and it became glaringly obvious. the jokes came less frequently, and the music he created sounded hollow, even to him. he missed you, missed the comfort of your presence and the way you always seemed to understand him when no one else could.

his group members had tried to give him the time and space he needed, since your relationship was long-term and impactful. you had been by han’s side since before stray kids, and the loss of your presence in his life was something all 7 of them combined couldn’t match up to.

the moment han decided he couldn’t stay away any longer, he abandoned the practice session and rushed straight to your place without even thinking it through. the journey was a blur and his body ran on instinct until he was standing outside your door.

his hands fidgeted with the hem of his hoodie as he rehearsed what he wanted to say for a few minutes before knocking once he was semi-confident of what to say and had plastered a small nervous smile on his lips.

when you opened the door, his smile faltered at the sight of you. “hey,” he said softly, his voice tinged with hesitance, looking over the sight of you in your pajamas.

“han? what are you doing here?” you paused in shock, not expecting his presence out of all things.

“i… i couldn’t stay away,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to the ground. he forgot what he planned to say. “i know i don’t have any right to be here after what happened and what i said, but i needed to talk to you.”

you looked over his sweaty and disheveled appearance as if he ran here, and crossed your arms, looking away. “we already talked, han. what’s left to say?”

“a lot,” he said quickly, his voice trembling slightly — from being out of breath, or from the prospect of losing you, he wasn’t sure. “i know i messed up real bad. i know i didn’t always handle things the way i should’ve, but i can’t —” he paused, swallowing hard. “i can’t lose you.”

you sighed, trying to keep your composure. you knew his words were true. “you realize that now? after all that was said and done?”

“i know what i said,” he said, stepping closer. “but i need you to know how sorry i am. i didn’t realize how much i was taking you for granted until you were gone. and now… now i feel like i’m missing a part of myself. you, and what we had, none of that can ever be replaced. you were the one, and i was so stupid for letting you go like that.”

“han…”

“i’m not asking you to forgive me right now,” he continued, his voice cracking. “but i just want one chance to show you that i can be better. please, just give me that chance. i won’t screw up again.”

his vulnerability was raw and unguarded, and the tears welling up in his eyes mirrored the ache in your chest. his presence only made you realize what you were missing. han wasn’t one to beg, but for you, he’d put his pride aside if it meant that he could win you back.

seung ♢ min

seungmin prided himself on his ability to stay composed, but the breakup had shaken him to his core. he replayed your last conversation over and over, analyzing every word, every tone, trying to figure out where he’d gone wrong. the silence in his life without you was deafening, and no amount of logic could convince his heart to move on.

he knew he had no right to approach you or ask for forgiveness after his neglect, but damn was it hard to get past your absence in his daily life. meals, practice and sleeping alone felt void — like a puzzle piece was missing, leaving the actions feeling inadequate.

it took him a month to realize he couldn’t go on without you, weeks to decide how he was going to approach you, and another handful of days to work up the courage and find himself standing outside your door. his heart was pounding in his chest and his hands felt sweaty.

when you opened your front door, you were startled to see seungmin there, his usual calm demeanor replaced with an uncharacteristic hesitance and unease. “seungmin? what are you doing here?”

“i…” he hesitated, his eyes dropping to the floor as he suddenly felt a wave of unpreparedness. “i needed to talk to you.”

you were surprised but crossed your arms and kept your expression guarded, equally as hesitant. “we’ve already said everything that needed to be said. why now?”

“no,” he said firmly, meeting your gaze. a troubled look in his eyes. seungmin wasn’t sure if he felt like crying, or throwing up. “i didn’t say enough. i didn’t fight for you the way i should have, and i can’t let it end like this.”

“seungmin…” you frowned softly

“i know i made mistakes,” he interrupted, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “i know i wasn’t always there for you the way i should’ve been. but i love you. and i can’t just let you walk away without trying to make things right.”

you sighed, looking away. “it’s not that simple. you hurt me.”

“i know,” he said, his voice softening. “and i hate myself for it. but i want to make it up to you. i’ll do whatever it takes, no matter how long it takes. i just need you to give me a chance.”

when you didn’t respond immediately, he took a deep breath, his hands trembling slightly. “i’m not asking you to forget everything. i’m just asking for the chance to prove that i can be better—that i can be the person you deserve.”

the quiet determination in his voice was unlike anything you’d heard from him before. it was clear that seungmin wasn’t just asking for forgiveness—he was willing to fight for you, no matter how long it took.

chang ♢ bin

changbin wasn’t used to feeling helpless, but after the breakup, he felt like his world had been turned upside down. he threw himself into his music, trying to channel his emotions into lyrics, but even that didn’t offer the relief he was hoping for. the studio felt empty without you. his group mates tried to cheer him up, but nothing could replace your touch, the sound of your laugh or the way you’d encourage him after a long day.

it didn’t take long before he realized he couldn’t let you go. your presence couldn’t be replaced by practice or writing, and every heart wrenching feeling being poured into his file of unreleased songs. it had reached a point where he had gotten tired of the separation and ended up impulsively making his way to your apartment one evening.

changbin’s heart was pounding as he worked up the courage to knock, freezing in surprise when you suddenly opened the door in that purple shirt of yours that you always wore to grocery shop. he stared at you quietly for a few moments, watching how your expression shifted from surprise to guardedness.

“changbin? what are you doing here?” you spoke softly, your gaze flickering around the hall to make sure no neighbor was out.

he hesitated, feeling extremely unprepared despite replaying the conversation in his mind the whole ride here, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “i just needed to see you,” he said, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

“bin, we’ve already talked about this,” you began the nickname slipping too easily, but he shook his head.

“no, i need you to listen,” he said, his voice firm but he had to clear his throat to stay composed. “i know i messed up. really bad. i know i didn’t always handle things the way i should’ve, but i can’t lose you. i don’t know how to be without you.”

you sighed, fidgeting slightly as you looked over his disheveled hair and troubled expression. he wouldn’t meet your eyes either. “it’s not that simple, changbin. you can’t just show up after what happened and expect everything to be okay.”

“i know that,” he said, his dark eyes pleading as he ran his palm over his face. he wasn’t one to beg but if he left this without knowing you were his again, he didn’t know what he’d do. “but i’m willing to do whatever it takes to fix this. i’ll change. i’ll be better. just tell me what you need, and i’ll make it happen.”

you looked away, trying to maintain your resolve, but his words slowly chipped away at your defenses. he was the best you’d ever had, until he wasn’t. “why now, changbin? why couldn’t you do this before and how am i supposed to believe you’ve changed?”

“because i was scared,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, looking up at you as he reached out to grasp your hands in his. “i was scared of failing you, or of not being enough. but i realized i’m more scared of losing you forever. i wouldn’t be able to bear that.”

his voice trembled and he nearly found himself in tears, leaning his forehead against yours. “please, give me another chance. let me prove that i can be the person you deserve.”

notes: something about writing sad shit and horny shit really makes me tingle. anybody interested in an individual smut fic?

[yandere-daydreams]

Not-So-Scary Moments With The Yan. Genshin Boys (Sumeru + Fontaine Edition).

Characters: Alhaitham, Neuvillette, Kaveh, Tighnari, Cyno, and Wriothesley.

Word Count: 2.7k.

TW: Borderline Shitposting, Prolonged Imprisonment, Varying Levels of Emotional and Physical Abuse, Codependency, Mentions of Stalking, and Unhealthy Relationships.

Alhaitham

It took Alhaitham about ten minutes to drag himself out of bed, his staggered footsteps audible through the thin walls of his apartment.

It took twenty for him to haul himself through his morning routine – water running somewhere in the distance and porcelain clattering against marble countertops as he washed his face and tried to work some life into himself. Alhaitham usually wasn’t so lethargic, but he’d had a rough week. There’d been a sudden influx of paperwork for the Akademiya’s sole scribe, and every second he didn’t spend buried under new legislation and requests for increased budging was, instead, dedicated to one of his many personal research projects. By the time he’d gotten home last night, it’d been all he could do to make sure you hadn’t starved to death and drag himself to bed.

He usually would’ve kept you waiting for a few more minutes, but an agitated grunt marked an end to his normal patterns. In a moment, he was braced against the doorway to his own study, his eyes narrowed half-hearted towards where you sat in his leather-padded chair, your feet propped on his desk. There was an book open in your lap – one of his, something about metaphysics and ley line abnormalities and how both tied into the Inazuman politics. He eyed it wearily before speaking, his voice still deep with exhaustion. “Where did you put my hearing aids?”

His tone was accusatory, his irritation visible. You put on your sweetest smile. “Where did you put my novellas?” you signed, thinking for a moment before adding, “Bitch?”

“They aren’t ‘novellas’, they’re—” He cut himself off with a scoff. “They’re filth. I don’t want you rotting your brain with smut.”

“The plots are very—”

“The plots are half-baked excuses for paper-thin characters to fondle each other in locations you can tell the author didn’t take the time to properly research and—” His gaze flickered to you, his frown deepening. “Why are you smiling like that?”

“You’ve read them?”

There was a long beat of silence.

Finally, he let out a labored sigh. “The dozen or so I couldn’t be bothered to throw away are in a cabinet underneath the kitchen sink. It’s locked – the code is your birthday. Now, where are my aids?”

“You fell asleep with them on last night,” you said aloud, abandoning his glorified textbook and pushing yourself to your feet. His hand shot to the side of his head, finding the metallic cuff only slightly displaced by having spent the better half of the night on his head. As you passed him, you paused, pressing a kiss into the corner of his scowl and pretending to ignore the muffled groan he let out in response.

Neuvillette

Of all the sights you thought you might see after arriving in your wonderous new nation, the Iudex of Fontaine standing over your drained bathtub with a look of potent remorse written across his expression was not one of them.

You’d imagined yourself strolling through the walls of the Opera Epiclese in vivid detail, been able to picture exactly what you might’ve seen standing below the Tower of Ipsissimus or above the bottomless pit that was the entrance to the Fortress of Meropide, but even after you’d found yourself in the smothering care of Monsieur Neuvillette, you never would’ve been able to conjure this sight. He usually insisted that you bathe together, going so far as to have an in-ground tub that could’ve easily been mistaken for a hot spring installed in his (until recently neglected) personal residence to better indulge the habit. Thankfully, the trial he’d been presiding over had run long today, and you’d been able to save yourself an hour of his calloused hands running over your body, of his eyes burning into your skin with a nearly inhuman focus. You knew he’d be disappointed. Irate, even, depending on how his trial swung.

You hadn’t expected him to be so… sulky about it.

Half-lidded eyes, a slight pout tugging at the corner of his lips as he lingered idly in the doorway between your shared bedroom and the in-suite bathroom. Steam and silence laid heavy in the air – the latter you were eventually forced to break as you fiddled with the hem of your robe. “I’m sorry,” you muttered, hoping more to break the tension than to make him think you were genuinely apologetic. “It was getting late, and I didn’t know when you were coming home. I didn’t think you’d take it so personally.” When he didn’t respond, you braced yourself for the worst. “If you’re angry, please say so. I… I’d rather get this over with now, if it’s all the same to you.”

His expression softened. He let out an airy sigh and, with only a moment of hesitation, closed the space between you. “I’m not angry.” A pair of lean arms wrapped around your waist, his face soon buried in the crook of your neck. You heard him inhale, and did what you could to suppress the shudder that ran up your spine at the thought of him basking in your scent. “I’ve just been… looking forward to it, I suppose. Your taste relaxes me.”

Immediately, you went rigid. “My… taste?”

“Mhm.”

“Neuvillette,” you started, very slowly, giving your own mind time to catch up to the dread slowly building in the pit of your stomach. “Have you been drinking my bathwater?”

He was quiet for a not inconsiderable amount of time.

Finally, he pulled away from you just far enough to speak. “…no?”

For your own sake, you decided to believe him.

Kaveh

“Kaveh.”

“Not now, treasure.”

“Go to bed.”

“I will, in another hour.”

“You need to get some sleep.”

“I’ve already told you – I’m fine.” He narrowed his eyes, expression contorted by concentration. “Knight to B4.”

“Kaveh,” you repeated, leaning across the table. “You were showing me your blueprints.”

“Oh.” He blinked several times, looking over the sheet of blue paper marked with chalk drawings and near indecipherable hand-writing. “Were you impressed?”

Your frown irked, but you swallowed back your exasperation and pushed yourself to your feet. Slowly, you took him by the hand and, when he failed to protest, guided him out of his own seat and towards the room you were usually restrained to, when he wasn’t home. He’d kept himself awake for the past two nights, every moment of the past forty-eight hours devoted to finishing his proposal for a wealthy commissioner’s summer mansion before its upcoming deadline and, now that the coffee had been drained from his system and his adrenaline had been given time to fade, he was practically a shell of a man – all dark circles and hunched posture and disheveled blonde hair.

Sleep deprivation was, by far, the worst thing he could inflict on himself. At least he was happy after he drunk himself into oblivion. This was just depressing; as miserable for him as it was for you.

With a dutifulness you shouldn’t have had to show to your lover-turned-stalker-turned-captor, you brought him to his bed and watched as he collapsed onto it, what little strength he had to hold himself up immediately dissolving. With a sigh, a roll of your eyes, you turned to leave, but a hand lashed out from the crumpled heap and caught you by the wrist. “Stay with me?” His voice was muffled by layers of sheets and blankets, but clear enough. “Please?”

Usually, his bids for affection were met with bitter neutrality or, on your worse days, spiteful condensation. Usually, you would’ve torn yourself out of his hold and made sure he knew that he’d ruined any chance of living out his little domestic fantasy the second he decided his obsession was worth more than your happiness. Usually, you would’ve hated him that much more for daring to ask.

But, he could barely hold his eyes open and when you failed to immediately recoil, the sloppiest, most lovesick smile you’d ever seen plastered itself across his lips. It was his turn to pull you forward, this time; to drag you onto his bed and into his chest. With a satisfied sigh, he slotted his chin against the dip of your shoulder and draped his arms around your waist – an old position. A relic of better times you’d never been strong enough to completely dicard. “When it’s time to draw up the plans for our home,” he mumbled, only half-audible. “I won’t so much as breathe until its perfect.”

You opened your mouth, but didn’t say anything.

He’d already fallen asleep.

Tighnari

He glanced once at the thick packet of ink-marked parchment you’d slammed in front of him before looking back to you, his expression disparaging. “And this is supposed to be…?”

“A custody agreement,” you answered, grinning. “Alhaitham put it together during his last visit.”

“We don’t have any kids.”

“It’s for Collei. If I ever leave you,” and, to be clear, you would be leaving him, as soon as you figured out how to get away from a man who poisoned your tea whenever you so much as suggested entertaining a future that didn’t include him, “I want weekends and summers.”

“She’s nineteen.”

“Which is why we’re letting her pick who she wants to spend holidays with.” You tapped the front page with your knuckles. “Honestly, dear, if you weren’t going to so much as read the documents, we could’ve scheduled this for another day.”

His ears twitched, his tail sweeping across the floor in irritation. “Even if this was legally binding – which, by the way, something assembled by a scribe would not be – I would never give you weekends. That’d be too much travelling for a girl in her condition, and I don’t want her to feel like she comes from a broken home. Moreover, according to Regulation #531 as passed by the Grand Sage last year, you would have to get Collei’s signature before—”

“Check page twenty-seven.”

You watched him scowl as he thumbed through the pages. A second later, his ears flattened against his scalp, and he took to muttering under his breath. “Traitor.”

“If you don’t want your aggression towards the dependent party used against you in court, I’d suggest you sign on page four, seventeen, and thirty-two.”

You left his villa half an hour later with a with a new imprint of his fangs on the side of your throat and a signed document in-hand.

Cyno

“You have kidnapped me.”

“Technically, I was only—”

“You’ve blackmailed me, imprisoned me, and tortured me.”

“You can’t still be hung up on—”

“You’ve branded me with your name, forced me into your bed, and made me play out all your delusional, fucked-up fantasies—” You took a deep breath, pursed your lips. “—but if you show up to a black-tie event wearing that, it will be the worst thing you’ve ever done to me.”

He looked down, as if considering his attire for the first time. He was in his usual uniform – which was to say, shirtless and barefoot, his hair windblown and a fine layer of sand still coating what little he was wearing. You could only be thankful his polearm wasn’t slung across his back, but you knew he’d make it past the door without it. “The way I dress has never been a problem before.”

“There’s a difference between hunting down rouge scholars and going to a banquet being held by a literal god. Archons, Lesser Lord Kusanali herself might be there.” You gasped, dragged your hands over your face. “Everyone who’s ever gone to the Akademiya will absolutely be there.”

For all his many faults, he could never stand to see you in pain. There was a brief delay, a moment of unsure shuffling, then his arms were wrapping around you, his chest slotting against your back has he pulled you against him. “It’ll be alright,” he muttered, speaking into your shoulder. “If anyone so much as attempts to insult you—no, if anyone tries to talk to you at all, I’ll strike them down in the blink of an eyes.”

His comfort was stale, but you forced yourself to relax. At least enough to speak. “You know,” you mumbled, letting your hands drift to your temples. “Dehya was hired by an up-and-coming scholar, a few weeks ago. I’m not sure how long her contract was, but there’s a chance we’ll see her tonight.”

There was a beat of silence, then another.

“Cyno?”

“I’ll change.”

Wriothesley

You could hear him trudging up the metallic stairs to his office; his footsteps heavy enough to drown out the soft music flowing out of his century-old gramophone. His head emerged from the curving staircase, first – his hair somehow more disheveled than its usual state of barely-tamed chaos – then his chest, his tie undone and his collar terribly mangled, as if he’d spent all day indulging the worst of his nervous habits. He was baring his teeth, his pale cheeks flushed with anger and his eyes narrowed into a pointed glare. It wasn’t quite the reaction you’d hoped for (in your wildest dreams, he would’ve managed to sink his beloved fortress before he ever reached you), but it was close enough.

You moved to stand, to greet him with the warm embrace he usually demanded, but he was already in front of you, already pinning you to the back of the lounge you’d been splayed across with a single fist planted less than a hair’s width above your shoulder. “You,” he growled, leaning in close enough for his breath to fan over your skin. “Do you know how many journalistsI had to deal with today? They were everywhere. I couldn’t go a step without tripping over some— over some glorified tabloid.”

“So, your meeting with Monsieur Neuvillette went well?” His scowl deepened, and you let out your most faux innocent laugh – a chiming, bubbling thing he’d never been able to stand. “You shouldn’t scowl like that, love. All those photographers will have to find a new model if you manage to give yourself frown lines.”

He jolted, but forced himself to shut his eyes, to let out a long, ragged breath. When he did face you again, he’d regained a degree of his composure – just enough to meet your smile with his own tight-lipped grin, more teeth than anything. “I’ll let you off easy if you tell me how you did it now. Before I decide it’d be faster to strangle an explanation out of you.”

“I didn’t break any rules, if that’s what you’re worried about.” You paused, folded your hands over your lap. “It was all thanks to our great and benevolent duke. Contacting people outside of the fortress has gotten so much more efficient ever since you decided prisoners should be able to send letters without administrative vetting.”

He buckled visibly, his shoulders falling as he lean towards you, his face soon buried in the dip of your shoulder. “You’re gonna be the death of me, sweetheart.” There was a raspy chuckle, a hand on your thigh, squeezing just hard enough for his anger to shine through the playfulness of the gesture. “I think I’ve earned the rest of the day off, and I think you’ve earned—”

The door to his office swung open before he could finish, a masculine voice calling up from the voice below only a moment later. “Your grace, t-there’s a reporter here to see you! She says she’s been told not to leave until she speaks to your partner!”

“That’ll be Charlotte,” you half-sung. “She seemed like such a nice girl in her letters. It’d be a shame to keep her waiting.”

When he failed to answer, you brought up both hands and cupped his face, cooing as you used your thumbs to quirk the corners of his mouth upward.

“Just remember to smile for the camera this time, alright?”

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

P*rn ☆ 

Chapter 4, Raw, next question

Masterlist

Word count: 1.8 k

Sylus x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been following a spicy content creator by the name of Red Crow for some time now. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what would happen when he moves into the apartment next door.

Author's note: Here we go babes! I hope ya'll like it. I am going to be very busy this weekend and part of next week, so I'll leave ya'll with this for the upcoming few days. Lots of love <3

Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains sex, swear words, porn, smoking, intimate piercings, mentions of drugs, alcohol, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.

Mature content under the cut.

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It's not like you to forget about watching a Red Crow video, but it totally slipped your mind after Tara started suggesting different single guys to you. Seems like she's known Sylus for a while and isn't stoked about the idea of you liking him. For some reason, that gets you going even more. 

Sure, could be that he is a disturbed individual, but you figure it has more to do with his cold demeanor. It almost sounded like she was talking you out of talking to him again after her offer to give him your number. Almost like she suddenly remembered something. Could it be that she also knows about what he does? If that's the case, she's less innocent that you thought she was. 

Either way, she kept you busy until there was a knock at the door and you realized it was already 2 am. No wonder you had been getting sleepy. 'I'll get it,' you offer, you brain fried once more but this time the sleepiness is to blame. Tara giggles in response. 

You expected Kieran to come knocking so that Tara could drive him home. Instead, Sylus leans over you once more when you open the door, one hand on the top of the doorframe the other in his pocket. He's incredibly close, closer than one normally is when knocking on someone's door. Is he doing this on purpose?  

The smell of whiskey and cigarettes hang around him like a cloud, mixing in with his cologne to create the most intoxicating smell you've ever smelled. His shirt is a little more unbuttoned than it was before and there's a slight pink tint to his cheeks. You figure he's drunk or close to drunk. 

But then he speaks, and he sounds stone cold sober: 'Hey, can you tell Tara Kieran is sleeping over. He is in no state to move.' 

'What happened to “taking it easy”,' Tara shouts from the couch. Sylus stands up a little straighter, removing his hand from the doorframe, and looking over top of me to Tara on the couch. He grins slyly. 

'Nothing we haven't done before.' She hops off the couch and rushes over, looking slightly agitated. 

'Sylus, that can refer anywhere from a gross shot to LSD,' she snaps at him. He leans down over her like he just had with me. Her eyes widen ever so slightly, and it almost looks like her hair is puffing up like an angry cat. Suddenly, you understand why she might've wanted to curb your interest in Sylus but the teasing tone that slips from his lips so easily gets you fucking going. Without really noticing it, you bite your lip for no more than a second while your thighs rub together. 

He notices though. His eyes flicker over to you for just a second and his grin widens ever so slightly. 'No drugs. I quit that stuff. He's just very drunk.' Tara groans. 'You can check if you want.' 

'I will,' she snaps as she pushes past the two of you and quickly disappears into Sylus’ apartment. 

And suddenly, you are harshly reminded what happened the last time you and Sylus were alone. Reminded of that video that you still haven't fully watched. The first few seconds are engraved in your memory. Sylus, completely dressed with his hand slowly rubbing over the tent in his pants, low groans leaving his lips. 

When you look up at him again, you swear he knows exactly what's going on in your mind. There's that sly grin on his lips again. 'Having a fun night?' 

'Oh, fuck you,' you groan, and feel yourself puff up like Tara had as you cross your arms with an annoyed expression on your face. If he knows, you might as well cuss him out for it. He deserves as much, and he seems to like it as a rich laugh slips from his lips. 

He leans even closer, still towering over you with his eyes focused on yours. You feel your cheeks and ears heat up like you've just shoved your head against a space heather. 'You know who I am,' he states. You can almost feel your attitude melt like snow thrown on a fire as you nod.  

'You know what I do,' his voice is gravely, low, seductive. He's enjoying this. You nod again. No more snow, only fire. Fire in your loins and in your fucking ovaries. You are going to burst. He moves in even closer. 

'Use your words, sweetie.' One of his two signature pet names for his audience. Your panties are soaked, your blood is boiling, and your attitude is back. Because, if he keeps this going, you two will be down and dirty right here in your doorway. Ain't no way you're letting Tara see you in that state. 

'Back the fuck up before I jump your bones.' Maybe you should've just said the first part. His confidence wafers for a second before he realizes what you mean. He’s even closer now, his lips next to your ear, voice barely above a whisper. 

'Did you like what you did to me?' 

'Kieran is passed out,' Tara loudly announces before peaking her head around the corner. Before she can, Sylus moves back and crosses his arms, looking like he's bored out of his mind while you are bright red in the face. 'Sylus, help me get him in the car. We have plans tomorrow.' 

'Yes ma’am.' 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

3 am. The world outside is quiet, just like Sylus likes it. Kieran was a real pain to get in the car but at least he gets to listen to some records on his own now. Luke had left long before but Kieran always sticks. Sylus can only hope he'll be awake enough to walk into Tara's apartment when they get there. 

Today had been interesting to say the least. He hasn't been this risky in a long time, teasing someone who clearly knows who he is. Could be a very awkward situation in the future if she ever grows over her lust for him, but for now he's fine. This could be a fun little game between the two of them. No one else needs to know, but what if he just films his content after he's seen her. Like how he did today. 

Short conversation, make a video wearing what she saw him in, turn her on so he can listen to her sweet little moans pierce through the thin walls. He does need to keep his schedule though, otherwise it'd be too suspicious. On the other hand, no one would complain about an extra video occasionally. 

The soft thud of the needle bumping off his record pulls Sylus out of his trance. The room is suddenly awfully silent. Then, he hears it. 

The softest of whimpers. 

He turns off the record player and walks into his room curiously. The sound is coming from the air extractor fan in the bathroom, just as it had this afternoon. The shower isn't running and your noises sound farther away, so it's possible that you're in your bedroom with the bathroom door open. 

"Is she doing this on purpose," Sylus questions as he stands in the middle of his bathroom, listening to the sounds you make while his dick starts to strain against his pants. "Would she hear it if I did the same thing?" 

His curiosity quickly gets the better of him. Just for good measure, he quickly sets up his phone to record on top of the toilet reservoir and presses record. Then, he moves to lean against the sink cabinet, his head thrown back as he rubs over the fabric of his pants, just as he had this afternoon. 

He hears a particularly lewd moan and prays to the gods above his phone picked the sound up. His hand moves to his zipper and he undoes himself skillfully and fast. He takes his dick out of his boxers, not bothering to take his pants off. It's hard as a fucking rock and already leaking with just those little sounds. 

"What is this woman doing to me?"  

Lazily, he starts stroking his dick. Soft groans and moans slipping from his lips, suppressed in an attempt to still hear you through the vents. Then the prettiest picture slips into his mind. 

You, laying on your back in his bed, naked. Heels planted on his mattress, legs spread, hands lazily pulling on the hair on the back of his head. That beautiful blush on your cheeks, looking desperate and longing for release while he drives his length into you. The little sounds you make, so much louder when he's this close, so much more beautiful. Your eyes focused on him and only him. 

His hand starts moving faster, chocking his dick ever so slightly while his other hand grips the sink, knuckles turning white. An animalistic sound leaves his throat, a sound he's never made before. Something like a chocked growl. 

God, that image. He'd lean in closer, wrap his arms around your body to pull you closer, his lips exploring the expanse of your neck and shoulders while your nails leave trails on his back. One of his hands would leave your body, move to your little bud of nerves to help you reach ecstasy. 

Another growl leaves his throat, louder this time. He's getting so close after so little time. Is this really all because of you? Because some pretty girl showed interest in him? He's not sure, but the picture in his mind keeps getting more and more realistic. His eyes screw closed, head leaning forward now, his breathing heavy. 

He'd sit down on his heels, pull you onto his lap and hold you close to his chest, as close as humanly possible, while picking up the pace and drilling into you. Your pretty little moans would get louder, would morph into his name so beautifully strewn out on your tongue, barely recognizable to anyone but him. And you'd bite his collarbone. The pain and pleasure of the whole thing tipping him over the edge, his hands bruising your skin, serving you the same mixture to help you fall into the abyss with him. 

Hot ropes of cum lay on the tiles in front of Sylus while he tries to catch his breath. He doesn't hear your voice anymore, so you must be done as well. 

"What the hell just happened?" 

He steadies himself and grabs his phone from the toilet reservoir, stopping the recording. Before he can throw the thing to the side again, he gets a notification on his video from this afternoon. When he opens it, the name and profile picture look awfully familiar. It's you, there's no denying it. His lips pull into a grin when he reads your comment. 

"Raw, next question." 

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[aajjks]

Promise (m)

synopsis. Your boyfriend finds out a secret you’ve been keeping from him.

warnings. Yándéré, prégnáncy, tóxíc rélátíónshíp, ímménsé jéálóusý, cómplícátéd rélátíónshíp, côntróllíng jk, pósséssívénéss, dárk, flúff.

note. new manipulator in town LMAO.

You are a stupid lying cunt.

How could you even hide a such a big thing for him? Do you really underestimate him that much did you really think that he wouldn’t find out?

Jeon Jungkook is a man that cannot be underestimated, and you should’ve learned your lesson a long time ago. It’s been four months since that argument and he’s been really patient with you.

He let you go, even though you kept on rejecting his efforts to try to get you back… he doesn’t understand why you don’t want him back.

Yeah, he gets really jealous and sometimes those things that piss you off, and you need space from him, which he doesn’t blame me for, but at the same time, he doesn’t understand how you don’t get him.

He just loves you very much.

And he doesn’t want anyone flirting with you and when someone flirts with you, despite knowing that you are taken, he punches them in the jaw, breaks their face, and then you get angry at him for being violent.

It is a vicious cycle, he knows.

But people should know better than to test him when they know that you are taken by him. Why is it so hard to comprehend for anybody?

And why the fuck do you have to take the other persons aside all the time.

He has given you enough time, now it’s time you come back to him.

So he’s invited himself into your house with the spare key had he had, but he’s seeing right now, this new avatar of yours— nothing could’ve ever prepared him for this.

A baby bump.

“Y-You are pregnant yn…”

You step aside, allowing him in, but there’s a hesitation in your movements that he notices.

Once inside, he stands awkwardly near the door, watching you. His eyes scan you like he’s trying to piece together what’s been going on in your absence. Then he sees it.

Your shirt is loose and slightly stretched over your stomach. The curve is small, but it’s there. He freezes, his chest tightening as his gaze drops lower.

You’re pregnant…

It’s barely a few seconds, but it feels like an eternity before he speaks again, his voice barely above a whisper. “YN… what is that?”

You look down at your stomach, and the briefest flicker of hesitation crosses your face. You’ve been hiding it, hoping no one would notice. But Jungkook has always been able to read you better than anyone else. He steps forward, his eyes widening as the realization hits him like a freight train.

“You’re…” His words catch in his throat as he takes a step closer, then another. He reaches out, trembling slightly, like he’s afraid to touch you, but his hand finally lands on your stomach.

His fingers press lightly, almost too gently, as if waiting for you to pull away. “You’re pregnant?”

The word hangs in the air, a heavy, suffocating silence following it. You take a deep breath, but your words don’t come easily. “Jungkook, I—”

“No,” he interrupts, his voice dark, almost broken. He’s still standing too close to you, his hand still resting on your belly, as if he’s afraid to pull away. “You’re pregnant?”

Yes, he knocked you up.

He looks at you, his face a mix of disbelief and something darker. His jaw tightens, and his eyes begin to search yours as if looking for answers.

“You’re hiding it from me?” he asks, his voice dangerously soft. “You’ve been carrying my child and didn’t think I had a right to know?” His voice cracks with emotion. “Why didn’t you tell me, yn?”

There he goes playing the victim.

You snap, your anger rising as his words hit too close to home. “Tell you?” you scoff bitterly, stepping back from his touch. “You think I should’ve told you? After the way you’ve acted?”

You glare at him.

“Every time someone looks at me or even breathes in my direction, you’re out there fighting! Every damn time someone flirts with me or looks at me the wrong way, you act like the world is ending! Do you really think I want to deal with that, Jungkook? Do you think I need that in my life?”

His face falls, his jaw tightening, and he takes a step forward. “You think I fight because of jealousy?”

His voice is low, strained. “No, I fight because I don’t want anyone near you. You’re mine, yn. I’ve always wanted you. I can’t stand the thought of someone else touching you, looking at you like they have the right to.”

Why don’t you get it???!

You shake your head, frustration bubbling over. “You’re insane, Jungkook.”

Yeah he’s fucking NUTS.

“You’ve never trusted me, and you’ve never respected me! I don’t need you to fight for me. I need you to stop acting like a damn kid every time someone looks my way. I need you to grow up!”

His hand twitches at his side, like he’s about to grab you, but instead, his fingers curl into a fist, his anger evident.

“WHY DONT YOU FUCKIN GET IT YN????” He screams like in anger.

“You think this is easy for me? I see someone trying to get too close to you, and my first thought is you’re mine, don’t even think about it. That’s how it’s always been.”

“I don’t care about the rest of the world. I only care about you. I don’t care who looks at you—no one gets the right to. Not while you’re with me.”

Your eyes flash with rage. “You never let me breathe, Jungkook! You’re so obsessed with controlling everything, I can’t even be a person anymore without you over my shoulder, making sure no one looks at me. It’s suffocating. And now…” You glance down at your stomach, your heart pounding.

“Now you show up and want to control this too?”

Jungkook stands still, his gaze flickering between you and your stomach. His expression softens for a brief moment before it hardens again. “You think I’m controlling you?”

“I just want to protect you. Protect us. Do you understand? We’re going to be parents, yn. You’re not just mine in this moment. You’re carrying our child, and I’m not letting anyone take you away from me. Not ever.”

You stare at him, the anger still simmering beneath the surface, but something else bubbles up now too,

something more vulnerable.

“I didn’t know what to do, Jungkook. I didn’t want to feel like I was trapped. I didn’t want to be constantly under your watchful eye.”

Jungkook steps closer, his expression shifting from anger to something softer, almost desperate. “I’m not trying to trap you. I want us to have a future. Our baby is part of that future. You don’t have to do this alone.”

You cross your arms over your chest, not ready to give in. “You always say that, but your actions never match your words. You overwhelm me, Jungkook.”

He will never understand!

His voice lowers to a whisper as he steps even closer, his hand hesitating above your stomach, unsure whether you’ll allow it. “Please, let me be part of this. Let me be the one who helps. I’ll change, yn. For you. For our baby.”

Can he change?

For a moment, there’s silence, thick with the weight of everything between you. You’re not sure if he can change, but you’re not sure you want to walk away from him either. Your breath catches in your throat as his fingers finally touch your belly, a gentle caress that somehow feels like both a promise and a plea.

“I’ll protect you both. No one will ever hurt you again,” he murmurs, his voice soft now, as if he’s finally beginning to understand the gravity of what’s happening.

When you don’t respond, his tone gets more desperate.

“Please baby…”

You look up at him, eyes still angry, but now there’s something else there too. Something you can’t ignore.

“Promise me,” you whisper.

“I promise,” he says, his hand pressing against your bump, his eyes full of resolve. “I’ll never let anything or anyone take you from me again. You’re mine, yn. Always.”

Will he be able to keep his promise? He’s not sure.

[luveline]

hello lovely angel!! humbly requesting zombie!steve au, perhaps more of jealous steve? i love their dynamic so much💗 maybe someone is flirting with reader, and enter protective steve:)

thanks for requesting! fem, 2k

You tend to think of it in two weird halves. You love Steve, and you never would’ve known that without the end of the world, so things are okay. Sometimes you wonder if he ever could’ve loved you if he hadn’t been so close to you for so long, but he loves you in this insane capacity of softness that says otherwise. Like, soulmate style. 

It didn’t begin that way. Steve your reluctant guide, and you his unlikely saviour. You’d stopped him from dying at the very start of it all and he couldn’t leave you behind. And Steve, he’d been mean to you. He didn’t want to take care of you initially, but you’d grown to get along. You’d argue black and blue and he’d still rub your back at night. 

There are so many moments you’ve shared that make what you have all the more special. A hundred different memories from before you’d ever kissed. You think about it now, watching him across the firepit as he shows a young girl, Cassandra, how to braid her hair. 

The one that’s sticking today is when Steve got really bad food poisoning for the first time. When you’d known you were in love with him for a while, and when he’d stopped pretending he didn’t know. He’d been sick everywhere, on both your shoes, and you’d rubbed his back through everything.  

It was nice to take care of him. Nicer that night when you’d shared a bed and he’d hugged you half to death. 

He has no idea how much he means to you, or how much those moments with him kept you going when you were all alone. You’re lucky now to have found community, but those stolen hours in bed with him hugging him and getting to be his support, you wouldn’t have made it here without them. 

“Hey.” 

You look up as a man sits down. A boy, a man —what do you call twenty somethings? You don’t feel like a woman most of the time, but you are. 

“Hi,” you say. 

“I’m Jamison.” 

“You’re Eddie’s friend, right?” 

“Who, Munson?” Jamison makes a kidding face, a disgusted scrunch of his eyebrows that falls away to more friendly fondness. “Yeah, we go back. You’re Eddie’s friend too, right? I saw you guys taking out some laundry a few days ago.” 

Jamison is handsome. He has tan skin, short hair, and a crooked nose. His smile is disarming. If you hadn’t fallen in love with the handsomest guy around, you might feel nervous under his gaze. 

Time spent ugly under Steve’s reverent handling makes you confident. You genuinely feel prettier knowing Steve loves you, and it makes it easier to be yourself with strangers. 

“Eddie’s awesome,” you say easily. “I thought he was gonna kill me when we first met, but he’s too nice.” 

“Nice, really?” 

Jamison is casual, as people go. You wonder what his motivations are for talking to you at first, but as conversation stretches, littered with the cracking pops of the fireplace and brief pauses of surprisingly comfortable silence, you realise he’s just talking. Maybe he’s lonely. You know how that feels. 

He tells you that he and Eddie had been in a rock band together before the apocalypse. You’d known to some extent that Eddie was in a band, but Jamison tells you all the details you’d been missing. They were called Corroded Coffin, four members, Eddie played guitar and Jamison thought he was pretty fucking good at it, actually. 

“I don’t think we would’ve been, like, Metallica. But we could’ve been good. We were gonna make a record.” 

You smoke sympathetically. “I bet you could’ve been.” 

“What were you doing? Before all this?” 

“I honestly barely remember,” you say quietly. Your life before Steve is a blur, and it’s painful, too. “Things are harder now, I know that. I wish every day that we could go back to how things were, you know, I miss TV and grocery stores and my family.” You lick your lips. “I wish things were different, but somehow, I think I like my life now. I have stuff to do. Is that crazy?” 

“It’s not crazy. Everything fucking sucks,” —you both laugh— “but that’s not crazy. I’m lucky, I still have my dad, and my friends. There’s purpose in being here.” 

You nod emphatically, just once. “Exactly.” 

You have purpose, now. You get to be a friend, a girlfriend, a confidente. You take care of people. 

It all comes back to Steve, at the end of the day. Would you change the world if it meant never having met him? 

Nope. 

You glance across the fire for him, but he’s not there. 

You put your arm behind your back and bend, looking for him. 

“Looking for someone?” Jamison asks. 

You deflate with relief when you spot him standing near the gaggle of tents about fifty feet away. He’s looking at you from over Robin’s shoulder. You wave, and he waves back with a big smile. 

Something seems a little wrong. 

“Steve,” you explain. 

“He’s your boyfriend, yeah? Eddie told me you’ve been together since the start.” 

You don’t bother correcting him. He might not mean together as how you’re thinking it. “Yeah, that’s him. Have you met him?” 

“Kind of. We all thought he was a huge dick, back then.” 

“He sort of was,” you say. “I mean, we all had our own stuff going on. I get that I’m biased, but he’s my favourite person I’ve ever met. He’s so kind, I don’t think I could describe it to you or anyone just how much he cares about people. I wouldn’t be here without him, and… I don’t know, I’m not saying you’re wrong, but if you ever wanted to meet him again, he’s amazing. He’s a great friend. He’s so fucking funny, he makes me laugh every day.” 

“He’s sort of giving me the stink eye,” Jamison says. 

You wave your hand weakly. “He has raging jealousy issues.” 

“Shit, am I getting you in trouble?” 

“No, never!” you say, tempted to laugh. “He doesn’t get mad at me for stuff like that. He’s normal, I promise. Just sensitive.”

You tell Jamison that it was nice talking to him because it really was, but you’ve been missing Steve for hours already and you need to get back to him before you go totally bonkers. 

He’s sitting on the floor in the tent. The weather has been beautiful lately, you could sleep under the stars if you weren’t scared of being zombie charcuterie. Steve has stripped down to just his jeans and socks, no t-shirt or shoes to be seen. He has his sketchbook splayed open on his thigh, but he abandons it the moment you kneel down. 

“Hey,” you say. 

Steve folds his book closed, pencil between its pages. “Hi. Have I told you lately how beautiful you are?” 

You shuffle in to take his hand. Clumsy touches, his fingers warm and a tad clammy between yours. “You told me yesterday that I have a smile like an angel. I know you were kidding, but I still felt it.” 

“I wasn’t kidding,” he says, wrinkling his nose with a smile. “You think every compliment is a joke.” 

“Don’t make me laugh so much, then.” 

He squeezes your fingers gently. “Sorry I didn’t introduce myself to Jamison. Just, I knew him already from school. And he did not like me.” 

“That’s okay. He seemed nice, I think you’d get along if you met now.” You kick your shoes off and crawl as close to him as you can get. He looks up at you, but you look down at his lap. “What are you drawing?” 

“I was just trying to touch up that landscape I did of the river,” he says, a sheepishness to him as he opens his sketchbook. 

You read it with affection, trace lines and hatchings in awe. “Steve, I really wish you had time and space to do this stuff properly. Not that you aren’t doing it properly, just, I know you could make something just as beautiful as this with paint.” You slide to be sitting properly, putting you both at the same height, so you can meet his eyes as you continue. “Did you know what you wanted to do, when you were finishing school? Did you ever think about art?” 

“I thought about it.” His lips quirk. “Mostly about how my dad would’ve kicked me out if I said something that stupid.” 

“It’s not stupid.” 

“I know.” 

That would’ve been a nice life. You and Steve living together, with a basement for his paintings, or a garage turned studio. You’d read books together every night like you do now, and you’d scrub paint smudges off of his cheek. 

You love him so much it must give you an aura. 

“I’ve got nothing to worry about, huh?” he asks softly. 

You drift in, tipping your head back for a kiss you don’t take. “I don’t know, Steve, Jamison used to be in a rock band.” 

He scoffs in disgust. You think it might be a mixture of anger at Jamison and himself. “Who wants to date a rockstar?” 

“I might’ve.” 

You’re teasing, of course, smiling as your kiss draws nearer, and nearer. 

“Well, I can be a rockstar,” he says quietly, warmth of his breath on your lips. “Just give me a chance to get there.” 

You brush the tip of your nose against his and hold your breath. “That’s okay,” you say, letting it rush out of you in a huff, your excitement to be kissed too much to bear, “I like my guys all mixed up. Preferably good at track, and swimming, but with a soft side. Kind of guy who fills a sketchbook up with my face.” 

Steve lists to the side. Your lips are so close, you can feel the phantom of them against yours as he moves in. “It’s not just your face… it’s your hands, your arms… your everything–”

He cuts his own explanation off with a soft kiss. That softness swiftly hardens, turns rough, ten long seconds of sweetness before his hands coming up behind your head and he’s pressing inward, deepening the kiss, and giving you little room to breathe. 

You have no intention of dating any rockstars, but his jealous streak has nothing but upsides for you. Steve knows that his jealousy over the innocuous is his own problem, his own insecurity that he’s working on, and while you sympathise with him (after all, haven’t you yourself worried he’d find someone else he liked more?), you have to confess to enjoying the edge to his kissing. 

You make a pleased, humoured sound as he breathes you in like you’re a drug he’s been waiting for. He gets sloppier, and you can’t help pulling away to laugh. 

“What?” he asks, thumbing at your cheek in a soft juxtaposition. “Sorry, am I being a dick?” 

“No, it’s fine. Kiss me how you want to.” 

Steve kisses your cheek softly. “He knows you have a boyfriend, right?” 

“He knows.” 

Steve hums like he’s smiling and nudges your nose with his, until you part your lips, and he wades in for another dose. 

[honeybrucie]

A flourishing Future

Overwhelmed with the response from this au!! I truly enjoy writing it whenever I have a spare moment. I feel so inspired and hope you enjoy this and all that comes! requests are open! word count: 1k+ warnings: a little sad, but very sweet

Alfred had every right to be panicked.

For this one day, all he had to do was ensure that Master Wayne’s girls were kept safe within the grounds. Forget the upkeep of the housework, the paperwork, or any errands needed to be run. On this one day, he had to ensure the comfort and wellbeing of Mrs Wayne and the newly-arrived Miss Wayne. It hadn’t even been 3 hours, let alone a day, and he had failed.

Bruce was not going to be happy.

“Keep them safe. Keep them warm - and keep them happy.” Bruce had repeated as the butler had ushered him out of the door. Something about a meeting that couldn’t wait, meaning that Bruce would be influencing a firing or two of whoever made him leave his family.

Now Alfred was sure he would be first on the list.

“Mrs Wayne?! Miss- where-? Mrs Wayne?” He had been calling for 15 minutes, checking every room to no avail. You and your 6 day old daughter had vanished.

Meanwhile, you’d decided that without Bruce being around to all but keep you captive in the north wing of the manor, you'd make a break for the walled garden. You needed peace, some fresh air, and for your sweet girl to take her first glances at the flowers her father had planted for her. (Not himself, of course, but the gardener. Bruce Wayne already had a habit that got his hands plenty dirty).

You are so busy showing your child the pink posies, scarlet carnations, and the tangled strands of ivy that have already started to sweep the wall easily seen from her own nursery, that you lose track of the time.

Alfred is all but sweating when he finds you.

Master Bruce had been due home shortly, and the butler’s relief in finding you and your daughter snuggled together on the bench dedicated to Bruce’s parents, could not be exaggerated. You’d thrown on one of Bruce’s sweatshirts over your silk nightdress, and bundled your daughter in the very blankets your husband himself had been swaddled in all those years ago, a grey letter “W” stitched into the corner of the plush material. Bruce had never thought to keep such items when he was a young man who lived alone in the manor, who was bitter and hardened within his heart.

He’s eternally grateful that Alfred did.

“Mrs Wayne!” Alfred gasps. “You’ve given me a heart attack - you should be grateful it’s warm enough and that Master Bruce hasn’t returned-”

“I think they would’ve loved her, right?” your words halt him in body and mind. “She makes Bruce so happy, makes us all so deliciously happy. I wish they could’ve met her. I wish I could have, too. I always do.”

No more words are shared between you and Alfred. Instead as you share a look of bittersweet understanding. His wishes to see his master become happy had come true, and now he wished more than anything that he was serving three generations of the Wayne family within one home, watching them all grow together. To witness everything that they had deserved.

Bruce introducing you to his parents. His mother’s initial concern. His father’s careful words of understanding as he’d watch his son fall fast and fall hard. Reassurance from both parents when you’d had your first argument and he was terrified to lose you. Family dinners and laughter and trips to the local orphanages and hospitals to each do your part in bringing one more piece of joy to the city.

Bruce picking out a ring with his mother. A celebration held in the manor for the Wayne heir’s engagement to his beautiful fiancée. Wedding pearls gifted to you as “something borrowed” from Martha on your wedding day. Joyful and teary expressions as you’d tell them that they would finally be grandparents. Bruce’s father sitting him down with a whisky, earnestly telling his son how proud he was of the legacy he would continue, and that stepping up to be a father would be the most honourable thing he could ever do. Martha planning your baby shower. Bruce leaving the Regency room with a sleepy newborn to show his antsy mother and father the newest member of the Wayne family.

You were right, Alfred thought. Mr and Mrs Wayne would’ve adored your daughter, and loved you wholeheartedly as their own.

Life could be a cruel beast.

“Please, both of you should come inside. Master Bruce will be home, and none of us need the telling off.”

With that, the three of you start to head inside, Alfred being sure to wrap his coat over your shoulders, and enquiring after his youngest charge, who by now is fast asleep due to lungfuls of fresh air and the stories you’ve told her about her Grandfather and Grandmother.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Bruce finds the two of you safely tucked away in the north wing library, relieved that you are both safe and well. Before he can comment on how seeing you both again was a sight for his sore eyes, you look up from your book and smile gently. In one arm you hold his baby girl, while you read from a book decorated with swirls and vines. A fairy tale, most likely.

If he notices the gravel on your slippers, or the pink petals caught on the edge of his daughter’s blanket, then he doesn’t mention it.

“My girls.” He whispers with a soft grin, before making 4 large strides to the loveseat you have rearranged into a warm nest. A soft kiss is pressed to your lips and the book is quickly forgotten, reaching the floor with a soft thump. “My love” he whispers tenderly as he gazes at you in full adoration, heart soaring as you mirror his actions. He reaches for his angel within the blankets brings her close to his chest, whispering to her as softly as the wind that brushes oh-so-gently past the petals of the rose bush you’d admired earlier.

“My sweet girl. Daddy’s never leaving you and your Mother again.”

Life may have been cruel to the Wayne family those many years ago, but now new life was breaking through. And Alfred would have the honour of witnessing it all.

[starrdream]

Unsatisfied apology

Anakin Skywalker x f!reader summary: Anakin wants to make up... includes: not really smut but it's talked about and implied, whiny Anakin, make up sex, fast finishing, no orgasm

Your ex has fucked just about any girl that would let him in hopes of getting over you. As if your friends reminding you constantly wasn’t enough, anyone passing by his room could hear clearly. News flash, it didn’t help him one bit.

Though, the rumor that he still wasn’t over you did feed your ego.

One night, you were mindlessly revising for some tests you had later that week when a knock disturbed you. 

“Baby, please open the door. I need to talk to you.” The whiny yet familiar voice still made your heart skip a beat. Or two.

He must be drunk. You thought.

“What?” You huff as you open the door. Not only were you met with a completely sober Anakin, you were met with a crying one too.

Tears streaked down his rosy cheeks, eyes puffy and red. Who knows how long he was crying for.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, voice laced with concern.

“Can we talk?” He sniffles.

“Yeah” You blurted out before you could even think twice.

Opening the door further, you let him in. Ankin takes a seat on your bed and waits for you to join him.

The second you sat down he started ranting about everything.

“Baby I missed you so much…”

“I fucked up really bad, I know.”

“You’re all I ever think about.”

“I’ll never be over you.”

“I’ve been awful since the day we broke up.”

“No other girl compares to you..”

“Please..Give me another chance, my love.”

He pleaded and whined, all while still sobbing. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t considering it. Just one look at those blue eyes was enough to tear down any kind of resistance you’ve built over time.

“Please baby.” He begged. “Nobody is as good to me as you are. I’m so sorry” He whined, staring at you through teary eyes.

“I don’t know Ani..” You sighed, shoulders slumping.

“But you’re thinking about it.” He straightened up, a hint of excitement in his voice. “Please” He breaks off into a sob. “Let me make it up to you.”

With that, he pushes you down on the bed gently, climbing on top of you.

“Ani-” You try to protest, placing your hand on his upper arm. Unfortunately your voice comes out as a desperate whimper more than anything else, only urging him on.

“I’m so sorry for how I treated you baby” He mumbles, slipping your shirt off. He continues mumbling incoherent words that are interrupted by sobs and hiccups as he undresses you.

“Please say you forgive me..” He stares right into your eyes as he palms himself through his pants before slipping them down to free his rock hard cock.

God knows how long that was there.

“O-okay, I forgive you” You mumble, trying not to laugh at how childish he looks.

“You’re just saying that.” He pouts, sobbing again.

The next 5, 6 minutes of your life were the most confusing ones ever. 

Anakin is borderline desperate and his movements are jerky and uncoordinated. He's ground against your thigh like a puppy for at least 3 minutes before finally pushing his erection into your warmth.

He is good in bed, but this? If you didn’t know any better you could’ve easily brushed him off as a virgin.

He's whining and whimpering with every shallow thrust, his entire body shaking with the force of his sobs.

Obviously, he did NOT make you finish before he did. He didn’t make you finish at all. The second he spilled inside of you, he collapsed on top of you while breathing heavily.

Upon realizing you were still very much unsatisfied he cried again.

"I'm sorry..I'm so sorry baby. I'm sorry.." He kept mumbling over and over for another 5 minutes through his soft cries.

Shoulders shaking, face going numb as he cuddled you. The tight hold he had on you while crying loosened overtime as he fell asleep.

[elllisaaa]

no nut november - han jisung (5th to lose)

-> pairing : han x fem!reader

-> words count : 5k

-> genre : smut, ennemies-to-lovers

-> warnings : switch!han swearing, teasing, dirty talk, praising, protected sex, oral (f. and m. receiving), face sitting, deep throathing, masturbation (m. and f.), use of 'good girl' and 'baby boy', marking, hair pulling, begging, a little bit of angst because han and y/n are dumb + the way i'm depicting jisung does not represent him, it's only a work of fiction

-> 18+ content bellow, minors dni

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> masterlist | skz masterlist | no nut november

“- Are you serious !?”

Your smirk widened as you heard his annoyed voice ringing in the room. He must have found out that you finished Felix’s cookie. But Felix was your best friend, you didn’t like Han and you were hungry. Logical conclusion : you ate them regardless. The door of your room swung open as Jisung bursted into it, visibly furious. You turned around in your chair, your eyes falling in his angry ones immediately. 

“- Serious about what ?

- Please ! I know you’re dumb but not that much.”

And your smile told it all : you knew very well what he was talking about, but pretending you didn’t and irritating him even more was always entertaining. 

“- Oh ! The cookies, is that it ?

- Yes, that’s it ! 

- Well, how could’ve I known that you wanted one ? 

- You could’ve been nice, for once in your life ?

- Towards you ? Never !

- I hate you.”

Jisung didn’t give you the time to answer but you didn’t mind, you just watched him storming out of your room, bragging about how much of a bitch you were. 

“- I hate you too, don’t worry !”

You heard a door slamming somewhere in the apartment, and you laughed quietly at the noise, happy to have angered him to the point he left once again. It was either him or you who ran away from your arguments, but it was always about silly things like these cookies. You preferred to avoid serious subjects. It was safer, because you knew yourself, and you thus knew you were capable of saying the wrong thing very easily. The only thing you allowed yourself to do in his presence was fighting and teasing him, because you knew that he was attracted to you as much as you were to him. 

In the first place, you weren’t seeing him as anything but a talented guy. You became trainees almost at the same time, and he was so much better than you at everything. He was good at dancing, singing, rapping, and composing music. Everything he did was immediately incredible, just because it was him. You weren’t bad, not at all, but having this as your goal to reach and surpass was overwhelming and putting pressure on you. On top of that, Jisung had a good personality. He was kind, funny and a good friend. He even tried to help you a few times, but all you had in mind was that he was your rival, your enemy. So, you pushed him away, not seeing the disappointment in his eyes everytime you did. 

And little by little, your frustration of not being able to do at least as good as him started to become hate, until the point there was no going back, until the point the only thing holding you back from saying it all to him was your career. Jisung must have sensed your hostility, because he started to look at you from afar, he stopped trying to talk to you and you felt relieved somehow - you couldn’t have carried on with this behavior if he kept being so gentle with you. 

The thing was that you couldn’t help being attracted to him, even after all your arguments, after all that jealousy. With time, it all faded to end up in a bittersweet habit that you didn’t want to break, afraid that it would shatter the only relationship that you had with him. You weren’t jealous anymore, but you didn’t know how to act around him, other than arguing for the most stupid things. 

__________________________________________________________________________________

“- Felix !”

You jumped in your friend’s arms, happy to see him after this exhausting night. You liked to see other people, but award shows were always nerve wracking for you. Your favorite part of it was just starting : the after party. Felix guided you to a table where he poured you a drink that you definitely needed and deserved after all the hard work you put in to win this award. As you were talking with him, you let your eyes wander around the room until they landed on Jisung. 

He must have felt your gaze on him because he turned to you, his eyes fixed on yours. Your smile widened when he looked down, checking out your outfit. When he glanced at you again, you felt like a fire had started to burn into your stomach. He always had that effect on you, raising up something you didn’t want to think about. What you wanted to think about right now was your plan. 

Your plan was to make him surrender. Felix had told you about their stupid bet once, when he was a little drunk with you, and you decided to take advantage of it, you decided to make Han lose. If there was only one thing about him that you knew, it’s that he was as attracted to you as you were to him. You tried almost everything you could to bring him to the edge. But you didn’t get any reactions out of him, which was really starting to irritate you. 

So, tonight was the night. If you got nothing from him this time too, you would give up. And maybe it would help you to move on from him, finally. Deep inside, you really hoped he would react, because you didn’t want to stop seeing him, teasing him, fighting with him. It was the good part of each one of your days, you didn’t want it to stop. 

And you didn’t stop, spending the whole night touching him even when it wasn’t necessary, staying close to him even if you didn’t address a word to him, teasing him even if he seemed more and more tense as time passed by. But it wasn’t like you were exactly calm yourself, on the contrary. You drank, and drank, and drank to relax, until the point you were a bit tipsy. You were less anxious, but the control you had over your words worsened too quickly. You would have to stop with alcohol if you wanted to keep a little dignity. 

And as you laughed one more time at one of Jeongin’s joke, you landed your hand on Jisung’s arm, feeling a shiver running on his bare skin. He got rid of his stage outfit, instead wearing black tight jeans and a white shirt tucked inside, making his waist look so slutty you practically drooled at the sight. Suddenly, your wrist was trapped inside the iron grip of his fingers, leaving you no other choice than to follow him when he excused himself, pulling you with him to the hallway, slamming the door shut behind the two of you.   

“- What do you think you’re doing ?”

He was breathing heavily, as if he was holding back from saying or doing something - and you hoped it was from fucking you right there. You smiled innocently under his lustful gaze, trying not to seem too excited by the whole situation. 

“- I didn’t do anything Jisung… What do you think I’m doing ?”

Han took a step towards you, checking you out without an ounce of shame. Why should he after all ? You did that too many times to count, couldn’t really hold it against him now. 

“- I think you’re trying to make me lose. It’s all about that bet, isn’t it ? Wanted to see me fall apart since the first day.

- And ? Did it work ?”

You watched closely when he licked his lips, wondering what he could do to your body with that exact same tongue. He took another step towards you, and another, until his face was only inches away from yours. 

“- You want to see how much ?

- Yes.”

Your voice came out shaky, but Jisung didn’t seem to mind since he took your face into his hands, lowering his lips to the point they were almost touching yours. He took a second or two, taking in your whole face as if he wanted to remember it forever. But quickly, everything that wasn’t his lips on yours left your mind : the moment he kissed you, the world got blurred. 

Han’s hands found their way to your hips, gripping on them to keep you as close to him as possible. You ran your fingers through his hair, opening your mouth gladly when you felt his tongue licking your lips, moaning when he deepened the kisses. You felt your back hit the wall behind you, and Jisung’s body pressing into yours. You smiled lightly when his erection pressed up against your thigh. All you did was for that exact moment, for the moment he’ll finally give up. 

Without a word, you pushed him away from you just enough for you to get on your knees, your hands searching for his belt immediately. But Jisung stopped you just as quickly, putting his hands on yours. Your eyes fell into his, absolutely loving what you saw. It was what you wanted all along, seeing how much he wanted you. He was out of breath, his cheeks were bright red, his hair were messy thanks to your hands and his gaze was shining with envy. He was just so hot, without even trying. 

“- We shouldn’t do that… 

- What ? You’re gonna tell me you don’t want me to suck your dick ?”

You distinctly saw him shallow, his eyes wandered all around the corridor before they came back to you. 

“- I just don’t want you to be seen loving it so much.”

His fucking smirk was back, and you never thought you’ll like it this much one day. But you did. And as his hands left yours, you came back to your previous activity, unbuckling his belt and sliding his clothes just enough to free his cock. You stuck your tongue out, licking just his tip playfully, and then all along his dick. 

“- Hurry up, we can’t get caught.”

You chuckled lightly ; of course he didn’t want to admit that he was just craving your touch. But he wasn’t totally wrong. You were in a hallway, and even if it was late and that the probability of someone walking on you was very low, maybe it could happen. And to be honest, you were excited by this idea, by someone seeing how desperate Jisung was for you, that he needed you to the point he couldn’t hold back until you were alone - ignoring the fact that you offered that. 

Maybe he was desperate, but you were eager to please him too, to finally feel him and taste him. You took his cock in your mouth little by little, relaxing your throat with slow moves of your head. When your nose touched his pubis, you could tell Jisung was really lost in his pleasure. His eyes were closed, his head thrown back, and his mouth was hanging open, letting out whimpers and pleas. 

“- I swear if you don’t start to move I’m going to lose my mind…”

Jisung could have easily taken your hair and made you move himself, but he was so putty in your hands his body wasn’t responding anymore. You grabbed his thighs for support - and not because you wanted to touch them, not at all - then, you finally started to bob your head. You heard Han whine loudly, biting his lower lip immediately to prevent any other sound to escape his mouth.

“- S-Shit ! You’re too good at that…”

Maybe you would have responded, if your mouth wasn’t full. One of his hand flew to your hair, gripping on them tightly when you hollowed your cheeks and twirled your tongue around his cock. He was hitting the back of your throat with each move you’d make, and you could sense that he was holding back from fucking your mouth, you could feel his dick twitching. But you didn’t want him to restrain himself. No. You wanted him to completely let go, completely give in to you. So you sucked him harder. 

“- F-Fuck ! Don’t stop… Please.”

You let his cock fall out of your mouth, licking on it a few times before glancing back at him. He looked fucked out already, and you liked it too much for your own good. 

“- No need to beg for it baby… Serve yourself.”

His dick was back in your mouth before he could say a single word, a moan escaping his lips instead. Jisung let out another obscenity before he started to thrust into your mouth slowly, not wanting to hurt you at first, but he quickly lost control at how tight your throat felt around him. Your eyes filled up with tears as he started fucking your mouth faster, roughly, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care when he was seemingly on the edge of his climax.  

Han knew he had to stop. He should have stopped before cumming, he would’ve still participated in the bet. However, he couldn't. He couldn’t stop himself, he couldn’t stop you. He was dreaming about this for too long to stop now. All he wanted was to shoot his load down your throat and then bury his face in your pussy for hours. 

“- Oh God ! I-I can’t… I- Fuck, baby !”

You felt his cock twitch in your mouth once again, and then his hot cum landed directly in your throat, leaving you no other choice but to swallow it, moaning too when you finally tasted him. Some of his seed spilled out of your mouth, dripping on your chin and then on the floor, but your mind was focused on how sweet Jisung’s voice was sounding, whimpering your name as you licked him clean. He seemed to definitely lose it when you gathered the cum resting on your chin on your thumb, sucking on it right after. 

When you got back on your feets, your knees were aching, and your jaw too. But it was worth it, especially when you saw Han trying to recompose himself by arranging his hair, trying to look unbothered but you could see his hands shaking. Were you in a better state ? Not really since your panties were soaked in your arousal, sticking to your cunt. And you knew by the way he had gripped your hair that they were probably too messy to only look like you two had another argument. 

“- Y/N ?”

You were about to head back inside after arranging your hairstyle a bit, trying to not let him see how shaken you were by what had just happened. You put on a mask of confidence before turning to look at him, finding Han buried in a state of nervousness you’ve never seen him into before. He had always been that cocky guy around you, full of himself as if he knew the effect he had on you, not that anxious boy scratching the back of his neck and barely looking at you.

“- What ? 

- Do… Do you want to come with me to the hotel ? I didn’t even had the chance to show you how well I can use that tongue…”

If he had let you see a vulnerable side of him, it disappeared quickly, only to let you contemplate that smug smile of his. You sighed, holding back your own smile to spread across your face. Wasn’t that what you waited for ? 

“- You’ll have to make it worth it baby.”

He tried no to show how much this nickname was affecting him, or how turned on your smirk was getting him already. You had certainly noticed at this point, but he had always been admirative of your ability to act like nothing happened even when you should have been crying. Like this time when you performed for your monthly evaluations with a broken ankle, smiling at the jury as if you weren’t dying on the inside. Or like right now, as you were jocking around with Felix and San, as if he wasn’t fucking your throat minutes ago. Jisung would never say it out loud, but he had dreamt about this since the first time his eyes crossed yours in the rehearsal room, years ago. 

______________

You stumbled across his room, not even remembering how you made it to the door, the only thing crossing your mind being his hands trying to unzip your dress, and yours unbuckling his belt for the second time tonight. You pushed on his shoulders, forcing him to sit on the edge of the bed and getting rid of your dress yourself under his hungry gaze. Jisung’s eyes were wide open, watching closely as the piece of clothing fell to the floor, pooling at your feets. 

He tried to say something, but his throat was dry, and he could only look as you straddled him. His body seemed to understand what was happening only when you leaned in to kiss him again, your tongue entering his mouth easily. His hands wandered on your skin, moaning when he felt your warmth under his touch and your fingers running through his hair. 

“- You’re so gorgeous… I need more baby, please…”

You took a handful of his hair and pulled his head back, earning some incoherent whines from him. 

“- You need what ? You need to be more specific, baby boy.”

It only made him moan some more as you started grinding against his bulge. The fact that he was still fully dressed while you were only wearing your underwear turned him on. You should’ve been the one feeling small and vulnerable, but here you were, teasing him, having control, and Han loved it. 

“- I need you to touch me… Please, please…”

Your smile softened when you heard him beg. It was what you had always dreamt of - of having Han Jisung on his knees for you. 

“- But didn’t you promise to show me how well you could use your tongue ? 

- Yes ! Yes, I’ll eat you out, I just want to be good for you…”

There was something so wrong about seeing this proper and talented guy so desperate for you, and only you. But it was also so exciting, you didn’t think about it twice before throwing away your panties and pushing him to lay down on the mattress. And when Jisung saw you crawling until you straddled his face this time, he felt like his heart would come out of his chest from how fast it was beating. 

“- You’ll better not make me regret coming here baby.”

Maybe he would have responded, if his mouth wasn’t full of your pussy. You lowered yourself on his tongue, moaning when he started to lick your clit. You kept yourself up on your knees, not wanting to suffocate him, but his hands gripped your thighs, pushing you entirely on his face, not giving a fuck about if he could still breath or not. He just wanted to dive in your cunt forever, to taste you for hours, to stay between your thighs for as long as you’ll allow him to.  

“- That’s it Hannie, feels so good…”

You grabbed his hair again, pressing his face harder against your wetness, getting him to moan so loudly you thought he was coming. Jisung licked your slit, tasting your sweet juice again and again, knowing he’d never get tired of it. His tongue flicked against your bundle of nerves harshly, feeling your thighs tense under his fingers. Your moans were making him dizzy, and he was so hard he thought he could come undone just from your savor and your praises. 

“- So great with that tongue, you didn’t lie… Now make me cum, I can’t wait to feel you in me…”

Han didn’t need you to tell him twice before he pushed his tongue past your walls, his nose rubbing against your clit. You threw your head back as waves of pleasure washed over you, grinding on his face shamelessly and crying out his name over and over, until it felt too much. Your legs were trembling as you slowly got off from him, allowing him to finally sit up.  

He was as breathless as you, his lips and chin were covered in your arousal, his eyes were glistening, and you didn’t know if it was from tears or just excitement. You stared at each other for a few seconds, without saying a word, before his hoarse voice came out.

“- Let me fuck you… Please…”

You bit your lips, your eyes focusing solely on his lips for a moment, before you leaned in to kiss him again. This was enough of an answer for Jisung, and this time, everything coming near to demanding was only a memory as he grabbed your breast over your bra roughly. You moaned in the kiss, and he took advantage of it to rub his tongue against yours messily, saliva dripping down your chin. 

He didn’t stop kissing you when he took off your underwear, nor when he pinned you against the bed, only letting your mouth go to get rid of his own clothes. He threw them away quickly, not caring where they landed as your hands ran his chest up and down, biting your bottom lip as he also got rid of his pants and underwear. You couldn’t lie to yourself when it came to him : he was looking like a greek god, naked under the moonlight. 

“- Fuck me Jisung. I want you to ruin me.”

His eyes darkened, if that was even possible, but you didn’t get the chance to admire that as he dived in again to kiss you passionately, moaning in each other's mouth, teeth clashing and tongues dancing together. You felt his hands caressing your knee before spreading them open with a strength you didn’t think he’d have. Another whine escaped your lips at the images running in your mind from this newfound information.

“- Please, tell me you have a condom or I might go crazy.”

You smiled, and pushed him away just enough to grab your bag abandoned on the floor next to the bed, searching in a little side pocket to hand him a condom, trying not to get distracted by his hands grabbing your ass cheeks. 

“- I’m surprised you don’t have one.

- Sorry, didn't expect a little brat to suck my dick tonight.”

You chuckled at his mumbled words, pulling on his hair to bring back his lips on yours. Jisung tried to focus on it all at once : getting the condom on, kissing you, and not fainting. He seemed all confident and composed, but his hands were shaking from anticipation and nervousness as they landed on your thighs again. He knew you were the type to get a new guy every week just for fun, you had so much more experience than him, what if he ended up embarrassing himself ? 

“- If you don’t fuck me right now, I might go crazy.”

Your whiny voice - as much as you tried to sound composed - made him come back to reality. And the moment he pushed his cock past your folds, the moment he felt your wetness engulfing him, the moment he heard your desperate moans for more of his dick, his brain deactivated definitely. Han hissed when he finally filled you up fully, nuzzling his head in the crook of your neck as he started moving, holding your legs up, allowing him to thrust deeper each time. 

“- Fuck… You feel so good, so wet and tight just for me… It is just for me right ?”

He didn’t know where this possessiveness was coming from, nor did you, but judging by the way you clenched around him as he whispered the words against your sensitive skin, it wasn’t really bothering you. But you didn’t answer, focused on the way his cock was hitting all the right places already, making it hard for you to contain your noises. Until a hard thrust of his hips made you cry out his name.

“- F-Fuck Jisung ! Keep going…

- Answer baby, is this all for me ?”

Another thrust that made you see stars behind your closed eyes - a vain attempt to hold yourself back from moaning at each one of his moves. He kissed the skin of your neck slowly at first, quickly turning into sucking, biting and marking you. You had a stage tomorrow, and it was obvious that it would leave purple marks on your skin. But at this exact moment you couldn’t care less about it. 

“- Yes, yes, just for you !”

Han groaned loudly before he stood up on his knee, wrapping your legs around his waist and his hands gripping on your body as he started to pound into you, making your back arch and your mouth hang open, an incoherent mix between pleas, his name and animalistic sounds coming out. Trying to keep some sanity, you grabbed the sheets beneath you, looking up at Jisung between your legs : sweats was glistening on his skin, moans falling from his lips with every little clench of your cunt around him

“- That’s my good girl… Shit ! Letting me use her sweet pussy like that, screaming only my name. Only mine.

- Yeah ! Y-Yes… Only yours Ji !”

Your grip on the sheets wasn’t enough. You needed more. You needed him. 

“- More.”

It took no more than a word from you to get him. The weight of his body soon crushed you into the mattress, the skin-to-skin contact making you whimper. You immediately ran one of your hands through his hair, the other one resting on his back, needing to feel more of him. He came back to your neck, attacking the other side this time as the speed of his thrusts increased. Your nails dug into the skin of his back when he hit your g-spot again, making you clench so hard around him he thought you were cumming. 

“- God, I’m not gonna last long if you keep doing that princess… 

- Don’t care, I want your cum all over me.”

A loud moan escaped his mouth before you felt him pull out of your dripping cunt, jerking himself off right away. The loss of his dick was soon replaced by two of your own fingers pushing into your pussy, circling your clit as you watched him fall apart in front of your eyes. 

“- Oh fuck ! Shit, shit, shit… I-”

Another loud moan interrupted him as his hot cum landed on your stomach and breast, some even ending up on your chin. His blissed out face and little whines as he slowly stopped moving his hand just did it for you, cumming hard around your own fingers, missing the look of wonder Han threw at you when you came, rubbing your thighs gently to help you come back to reality. 

You didn’t know how much time passed by like this, next thing you knew was that you were in Jisung’s arms, legs tangled, and your face buried in his chest. Your eyes opened with difficulty, blinded by the light of the bright sun coming from the window - you didn’t really care about closing the curtains last night. With almost as much struggle, you managed to get out of his embrace, heading to the bathroom with your clothes from yesterday that you picked up on the floor. 

As soon as you saw your reflection in the mirror, you gasped. If last night, you enjoyed his mouth on your neck, you were regretting it now that you saw how many hickeys he left on your skin, and how dark they were. You couldn’t ask the stylist to give you something else since the outfits of your group had already been selected. You sighed while thinking about what you’ll need to do to convince the staff so they would cover this up with makeup. 

“- Couldn’t keep his mouth shut, as always.

- I won’t apologize for this, everyone should know you’re mine”

You turned around quickly, finding Jisung landing against the door frame of the bathroom, his fucking smirk back on his lips as you tried to process what he had just said. Your heart fluttered, but you couldn’t do that. It was too complicated. So you just decided to brush it off, and focused on taking off your makeup that was smeared around your eyes instead - keeping your hands busy to keep your mind busy too.

“- Stop with that. I’m not yours.”

You saw his smile drop in the mirror, and it suddenly felt like a heavy burden was weighing on your shoulders, like it was getting harder to breathe. 

“- I- Fuck… I can’t keep this up anymore Y/N. 

- What are you talking about ?”

Maybe playing dumb would allow you to ditch this conversation. You were not ready. Not ready to admit what you were feeling, and not ready to accept that he was maybe feeling the same way. 

“- I’m talking about us, about… About this whole fucked up relationship, because I know for a fact that you don’t hate me, and I can’t bring myself to hate you either. I’m tired of lying and always pretending that I don’t want to be near you when this is all I dream about. I don’t know what you want, but I’m pretty sure that I want you all for myself.”

From the way he was talking, from the anger and sadness that was pouring out of his words, you knew that it came from his heart, that he had been holding back for a long time. And maybe you did too. Because you slowly turned to look at him again, head down and playing with his fingers restlessly. 

“- I… It’s way too complicated Jisung, and you know it.”

Suddenly, his eyes were fixed in yours again, and you were only inches away from each other’s body. It seemed as if his gaze was burning with fire, as if he was struggling to keep himself together. 

“- I don’t give a fuck about that ! I don’t give a fuck about the stupid shit you find complicated ! Because you know that it is not impossible, you know it. I just want you. That’s as simple as that.”

You breathed heavily as he calmed down quickly, coming back to his previous state of anxiety. You didn’t dare to say a word, afraid to hurt him once again when all you really wanted was to hold him.

“- Please, just say something.”

You felt your eyes well up with tears as you hugged him tight, his arms immediately wrapping around you, as if it was where you should be. Your plan was not to get there, but now that his fingers were stroking your hair gently, and that his intoxicating scent was surrounding you, were you really regretting it ? 

“- Maybe… Maybe I want you all for myself too, and… Maybe we can try.”

Both of you will need a long and serious talk, but Han’s smile as he buried his face in your hair and your heart fluttering when he did so was enough of an explanation for now. And as he took you back to the bed, caressing your skin tenderly, the bet was long forgotten. 

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my works.

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[maybefae]

What Creature Would Your Person Be?

Pile 1 - Pile 2 - Pile 3

Remember, this is a general reading and it may not resonate for everyone or completely. Tarot is a tool to help guide but you are responsible for your actions and life, you choose your path.

Tips!

|Pile 1

Tarot: Ten of Pentacles, The Hierophant, The Emperor, Four of Cups, Three of Swords, King of Cups, The Hanged Man, Ten of Cups, The Empress, Queen of Cups (bottom of the deck)

Oracle: The Skunk and Magnolia (protection), The Finch and Peach (romance), The Hawk and Thistle (graceful persistence)

This was a very allusive energy and it feels like it belongs to the sea. But my first thought was a male selkie as soon as I pulled the cards, which honestly makes sense why the energy is so slippery and allusive. Another creature could be a male siren. And male sirens exist in myths but were phased out during the 5th century for some reason.  Male selkies have been in legends and operate a little differently than their female counterparts (from what I know/heard). For those not looking for a male partner, adapt this to your liking. I just tell the messages how I receive them.

Selkies can be put in the same realm of sirens but I know them to be completely different. Selkies derive from Celtic and Norse legends and we really only hear of the female counterparts, yet male selkies exist. (One of my favorite movies is The Secret of Roan Inish and it is a story with a selkie in it.) Beautiful in their human forms, they naturally lure in humans from the land because they can easily seduce us and the humans try to steal their seal hide so that the selkie can stay with the human forever. Only once the selkie finds their seal skin, which the human had hid, can they go back home to the sea. Male selkies, from what I have heard, can roam both the land and sea freely, unlike the females who stick to the sea. And they aren’t a malevolent creature and do have a sense of familial responsibility. Which is why I naturally got “selkie” when looking at your cards. Your person being a siren wouldn’t make sense with the cards and it would teeter on your person being more loose with their love. Some stories say that to call in a male selkie, a woman must shed seven tears into the sea. And usually this comes from the woman missing and longing for their fisherman partner that is at sea. They usually target unhappy women.

To combine the legend with your dynamic with your partner, I think your person comes in after a heartbreak from your end and there could’ve been a null on your love life for a while, years even. There is an energy of almost giving up on love but you really hadn’t, there was a pause because of the hurt and because you developed a fear of putting your love into someone else when it could be all for nothing. But under all that, there is that intense longing. The hope that someone will be brought into your life and confirm that to love and be loved isn’t all for nothing. And I love how they gave me a water creature for your person because he comes in as the King of Cups to your Queen of Cups. Your person is so full of love and matches the love you have so there isn’t a one-sided dynamic. You also have The Emperor and Empress so there is a strong emphasis on being a really good pair for each other. And you both want commitment and have the same vision of what you want with each other and for your future together. There is a strong emphasis on family but I’m getting that family could look different for everyone. You could just want a family that is only the both of you since you’ve never had someone stable to come home to before or it could just be you two and your pets or children could be in the picture. Whatever it is, it’s your person’s top priority and they do everything for that. Nothing is more important. 

They would be someone to willingly give you their seal hide because they love you that much. I also kept getting the imagery of sea otters. How they use rocks to crack open shells, scallop shells, and how they hold hands when they sleep in the water together so they don’t lose each other. My sister mentioned something after this thought, and she didn’t know I brought up sea otters in this reading, but apparently the rocks can be passed down through the otter’s family. Take this message how it resonates.

|Pile 2

Tarot: Temperance, Nine of Wands, Ten of Pentacles, Ace of Wands, Five of Cups, The Hanged Man, Death King of Swords, Queen of Pentacles (bottom of the deck)

Oracle: The Bee and Pomegranate (productivity), The Caiman and Poppy (dreams), The Dragonfly and Pansy (balance)

I knew I was gonna get a dragon through one of the piles. Your person made themselves known even before pile 1. Before I even pulled your cards, I had the feeling of the air element. Dragons, for me, are a very well-rounded creature when it comes to all the elements. They are a creature that can rule it all. There are many, MANY stories of dragons and I can’t and won’t pinpoint an exact variation of dragon. But I will tell you what I’m seeing based on messages.

Your person, in regards to dragon traits, is very hardworking and gathers as much financial wealth as possible. They don’t really spend it either, like it kinda sits and racks up interest so they gain even more money. The classic image of a dragon that lays amongst all the gold and jewels and treasure. And they could encounter a lot of people that want to wiggle their way into your person’s life to get to all that wealth. People may say that they are selfish and greedy when your person’s boundaries get slammed down on these people’s greedy hands. They have extremely strong boundaries and they don’t have a lot of people around them. They keep a very strict few people around that they trust, to the point where they don’t even keep family around I don’t think. They worked hard to achieve what they did and they aren’t just gonna give it away to anything or anyone. There is a familial wound that they have around money and I can’t move past their shield to get the exact story, it will be something only you will be able to hear. 

I want to also preface by saying that they aren’t heartless. Dragons love very passionately, loyally, and protectively. They are someone that has waited for the spark in regards to finding a lover and that person that they ultimately get to share their love with is you, pile 2. And you aren’t an object of possession, but you get clumped in with their riches in importance. There is a strong territorial feeling when it comes to you but it’s more protective, not at all toxic. They are going to spoil you and support you in anything you want to do - they want to be successful together. You can do whatever you want as long as they get to love you. There’s a feeling of turning a dragon into a dog, kinda like “scary dog privileges.” 

I don’t know any stories of dragons only being able to communicate through dreams but I keep getting that message. I don’t know if your only encounters with them, so far, is only through your dreams. I think they are actively communicating to you through your dreams and you may not realize because you could be someone that forgets their dreams as soon as you wake up or they come though VERY cryptically.

If your person is male, they have a very big build. For some, this could be a “dad bod” but for others, they are very strong and have an active build to them. If they have a female figure, she’s more curvy with bigger breasts and wider hips, kinda the definition of a woman. Very handsome and beautiful.  18+ Warning: Your person, if they have male genitalia, is very well-endowed. We all know the stories of dragons having two members, like their reptilian counterparts.

I also heard the song Crimson and Clover.

|Pile 3

Tarot: Death, Ten of Swords , Six of  Wands, Two of Swords , Nine of Cups , The Devil, Seven of Pentacles , Page of Wands , Knight of Pentacles, Ace of  Cups (Bottom of the deck)

Oracle: The Snail and Huckleberry (trust in the invisible), The Opossum and Peony (bashfulness), The Quail and Gooseberry (anticipation), The Antelope and Wheat (nourishment)

Hmm, pile 3. I knew I was going to get a pile that has a more “dark” creature. And I personally don’t feel like your person takes on the original, dark and evil characteristics of these creatures. As someone that kinda romanticizes creatures like this, as I have OCs that take on some of these creatures, I believe your person wants to be seen as those characteristics I give these creatures when making my original characters. I just wanted to warn you before I get into the reading.

Now, your person could be a couple different creatures! But they are a creature that inherently “feeds” off a person.

Personally, demons don’t exist to me. Demons usually can be characterized by their trickster energy, which I closely align with fae folk. Your person could be coming through as an unseelie fae, succubi, a vampire, or a grim reaper/death. AGAIN, I want to preface this by saying your person isn’t aligning with the “evil” traits of these creatures. Your person is picking out traits that align with them, which I am going to get to.

Your person has an intense energy (I say as I get a little dizzy) and only a select few can handle this energy. Your person is very used to being solitary. This could be the pile that is looking for a more…temporary and fun partner. They like to have fun, they can seduce very easily, and they are extremely attractive. They can show you a good time. Or they could’ve had their share of temporary lovers in the past, not looking for anything serious, and when they get to you, they are more ready to settle down. Their skills of seduction, passion, and intimacy carry into your relationship and they become more geared towards you. 

They will be good at breaking down your insecurities and drawing out your deepest darkest desires and fantasies, for sure. They feed off passion as much as they give it, so once they get you to be as passionate as them, you could probably have them hooked for life since there's a continuous source of energy. An eternal battery, if you will. I’m getting Gomez and Morticia Addams. I think your lover is SO different from what you’re used to and you have only dreamt of a partner like this, like they are a deepest and darkest desire themselves, so you might not know what to do with them at first. They will definitely make you a little shy and speechless, especially since they are a little unpredictable in the best way. There could be a little anxiety but more excitement/anticipation. They feel like a guilty pleasure to you. I’m getting someone biting their bottom lip at the thought of this person. They feel like the dark character that a main character ends up being with instead of the blond character they start with. 

If this person does end up setting off red alerts to you, then I do suggest staying away from them. For some of you, I am getting that this is someone you SHOULD NOT get close to, at all. This isn’t your person.

Dividers: @inklore

[merowkittie]

request: “Ні!!

Im not sure if your taking requests for writing, but if you are I was wondering if you could do a Wolverine and Deadpool x S/O who is very strong but doesn't look it?

If that makes sense...

Like the S/O is very sweet and shorter than them. But she is a total powerhouse! She can easily lift extremely heavy things, or can punch really hard.

Like even harder or stronger than the them!”

@klerns-birdie

thank you for your request! since i did write something similar to this before, i tried to switch it up as best as i can, sorry it’s a bit short =]!

warnings: none / not proofread =,]

wade testing your strength:

“holy shit, peanut! that actually hurt!” wade whined and held his bicep, looking at the blossoming bruise forming, only for it to disappear in a minute.

huffing, you rolled your eyes and kissed your teeth.

prior to you punching your boyfriend in his huge biceps, he was continuously bothering you. literally riling you up because in his words,

“it just turns me on whenever you or logan are angry.”

which prompted a glare from said man, and a scoff from you since you were pretty well tempered and only got angry on missions really. so he kept poking at your arms, tickling your neck, play fighting your legs, and when he LICKED your cheek, all mercy went out of the window.

so you reeled your arm and in a flash brought it down into his arm. logan applauded you for it, saying a gruff, “atta girl.”

usually, you’d let wade or logan do whatever! you truly didn’t mind, it’s just sometimes the constant nagging (as much as you love him) gets a bit too much!

“what happened to my sweetheart??” wade asked, putting your hair that’s fallen in your face behind your ear.

“still here.. just stop bothering me so much. we can cuddle if that’s what you want?” you looked up at him, and he swore he could’ve died at that moment.

you looked so sincere and adorable with huge eyes looking up at him, and a hand tugging on his shirt.

he folded instantly into your side, mumbling a little sorry even though he didn’t really mean it.

logan also testing your strength:

unfortunately this wasn’t your fault! compared to these two hunks, you’re tiny. so of course you’re going to struggle to sleep at night with wades heavy leg and arm strewn across you.

but what really tied the knot here was the fact that logan slowly started to lay on top of you. logan, who’s skeleton was made out of metal. metal that was HEAVY.

so as soon as half of him fell on top of you, squirming as quietly and gently as you could, you tried to squeeze out of that position.

and honestly, it was working until logan threw his own arm over you to secure you in the spot you found yourself in.

both men were knocked out in dreamland, where you wanted to be but couldn’t because of the weight on top of you. at the point, you wouldn’t be surprised if you died due to lack of airflow or something!

calling for help wasn’t even a liable option because blind al would be sleeping by now since it’s damn near 1AM, wade is knocked out drooling on your neck, and logan… he sleeps like someone’s grandfather!

there was one last option, but you didn’t think you were that strong for it..

as best as you could, you turned a bit in logan’s grasp and began to pick him up as much as you could to put him to the side. you literally didn’t understand how a person could be THAT heavy. but given the fact he is basically made of adamantium that obviously explains it.

but jesus… cuddles with him just end up deadly!

after a huff and one more push, logan was off of you and you silently cheered and clapped your hands together in praise. he groaned on the side, as much as he is a heavy sleeper, he always knows when you or wade are trying to slip out of bed or move around which disrupts his sleep and causes him to wake up and glare very very menacingly at you.

"bub?" he grunted as he turned back to you, squinting in the dark.

a sheepish smile made it's way to your face and you mouthed a sorry at him. "you kind of heavy y'know.."

he just rolled his eyes at you, and wrapped an arm around your waist, cuddling up to you like a cat.

with a sigh you just thanked whoever above for your mutation because as much as it's hot to suffocate under a sexy man, no.

the end is a bit abrupt.. sorryz!! hope you enjoyed <3

[frost-queen]

Bodyguarded // part 2 (Reader!Grimes x Daryl Dixon)

Requested by: @deansapplepie, Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly @denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury,  @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn, @strangerthingslover69, @ankhmutes, @yoowhatthefuck, @sseleniaa

Summary: Daryl and you bond more, but Shane can't seem to stop bothering you. His power act over your playing out. With your brother haven risen from the dead will Shane take a step back? [series]

“Keep your hand steady.” – Daryl said as his fingers trailed over yours. You were looking at him as he noticed it. With a gentle nudge against your chin, he turned your head. – “Eyes forwards.” – he stated. You nodded willingly trying to supress a smile. You kept your focus to the front as Daryl’s hand went under yours, supporting the gun in your hand.

He neared as you felt his body close in on you. His cheek close to yours. He moved his hand to the top of the gun. – “Try looking for a steady aim.” – he informed you. His hand let go of the gun, pointing at the overly big target up ahead. Seeing how it had set it up made you snort loud. – “What?” – Daryl asked confused with furrowed brows.

You lowered the gun, turning more towards him as you had to break it to him. – “Oh Daryl.” – you began with a breathless laugh. – “What?” – Daryl repeated. You swayed your arm over his shoulder pulling him closer to you. – “My brother is a cop. I know how to shoot sweetheart.” – you confessed with a dazzling smile. – “I mean was…” – you corrected yourself letting your arm fall from around him. – “How come you don’t have a gun?” – Daryl questioned loudly. Finding it very odd. You could’ve easily been an asset in keeping walkers at bay.

You took a deep sigh. – “Well you know Shane. He doesn’t like me holding a gun.” – you told him. Daryl took a deep annoyed sigh. – “But you can always teach me if you like?” – you proposed having rested your hand on his chest. – “It’s no fun now.” – Daryl answered bothered. You grabbed him by his shirt, pulling him nose to nose with you. – “We can always make it fun.” – you replied teasingly. Daryl grabbed your face, pushing your head a bit back.

“Why don’t you show me how you shoot. Sweetheart.” – he added teasingly. Before you could utter another word he spun you around. Pushing you a bit forwards by a push on your bottom. Looking over your shoulder, you gave him a soft glare. Daryl leaned back, chuckling. – “I need to know you’ve got my back.” – he said jokingly. You turned back raising the gun. Bang. Bang. Bang. Three shots were fired in the bag.

You stepped aside to show Daryl. Daryl looked surprised seeing how you had shot the three bullets in a way they looked like a triangle shape was matched in the bag. – “Do I get a reward now?” – you questioned. – “Not bad.” – Daryl responded nearing you. Playfully you shoved Daryl away acting as if it annoyed you. Daryl chuckled grabbing you from behind. Wrapping his arms around you.

His body pressed against your back as his head rested on your shoulder. – “I expect a higher praise from you.” – you said chuckling. Daryl left a tender kiss on your shoulder. – “Or you could continue that.” – you said making Daryl lift his head up with a smirk. He left another tender kiss on your shoulder. Following on to kiss your neck tenderly. Kissing his way up as you tilted your head to the side.

You turned around tapping your lips invitingly. Daryl quirked his eyebrow up. – “Now you are over-doing it Y/n.” – he said turning his head away. You could only stare at him shockingly. Daryl’s lips curled up into a smile as he grabbed a hold of you, kissing you full on the lips.

Daryl and you parted as he nudged you to walk. The two of you made you way back to the others. – “What’s Shane’s deal with you anyways?” – he asked. – “You tell me! I have no idea why he is being such an ass towards me.” – you explained half shouting out the words. – “I hate how he acts towards Carl.” – you continued. – “Like he never had a dad? Honestly Shane is a mystery to me. It’s not like I knew him very well before all this, but now… it seems like he is meddling a bit too much in my family’s life.” – you told Daryl who was listening tentatively.

You sighed loud. Daryl and you emerged from the woods coming back to camp. Dale stood on the caravan, waving at Daryl. – “Duty calls.” – Daryl said to you. You watched him go all smiling. Then you gasped loud feeling the gun being pulled aggressively out of your hands.

“Where did you steal this?” – Shane called out holding the gun up. You had turned around in shock, startled by his sudden closeness to you. – “I didn’t…” – you answered still half in shock. – “Don’t lie to me! You stole this bloody gun. Do you think you are brave enough to shoot it?” – he mocked causing a scene. Noticing how everyone at camp was looking your way. – “You think this is a kid’s toy?” – Shane called out waving the gun around. - “Shane!” – Lori snapped at him, eyeing the curious eyes around him and you.

Shane looked all smug. – “If you want to play guns, we’ll play guns Y/n!” – he grabbed you by the back of your neck, pushing your head down. – “Auntie Y/n!” – Carl shouted out as Lori held him back. – “No Carl! She needs to taught a lesson.” – Shane shouted at him. – “Shane!” – you cried out in agony trying to get his grip off you. Shane saw Daryl storm over, making him aim the gun at him.

“No more protecting her.” – he told him clear. Daryl stopped with a glare. – “I didn’t steal it!” – you called out trying to reason with him. – “Liar!” – Shane yelled at you, pulling a bit at your hair. – “Shane let her go.” – Carol said calmly. – “Shane… Shane…” – Carol kept trying to ask for his attention wanting to tone his temper down.

“Look at Carl.” – she said gesturing at Carl. Shane turned his head seeing how Lori held Carl tight. His cheeks stained with tears. His lips pouting as it hurt his little heart to see Shane hurt you like that. – “Please…” – Carol begged. Shane inhaled deeply through his nose. Suddenly aiming the gun at your head. – “No!” – Carl cried out leaping forwards as Lori had to hold him tighter. Daryl wanted to rush over as Shane stopped him.

“I’ll fire if you come near Dixon!” – he shouted making Daryl stop mid-track. – “Shane put the gun down!” – Lori said loudly hoping she could talk him out of it. You were panting, feeling the tip of the gun press against the back of your head. Bend over you felt your blood go for your head. Shane’s hand still on your neck. – “Not so talkative are we now?” – Shane said to you. Carl was crying his eyes out.

“Are… are you really going to shoot me in front of Carl?” – you breathed out. Daryl tried taking a step closer but Shane was on to him. It made Daryl clench his jaw. – “Shane!” – Lori snapped at him. Shane looked up to her seeing how angry she was looking at him. He started to chuckle slowly removing the gun from against your head. – “I was just playing.” – he said holding the gun up.

The moment you didn’t feel his grip on you anymore, you ran off. Tears in your eyes as this was too much. Shane had crossed a line. Hard. – “Y/n!” – Daryl called out running after you. Lori let go of Carl walking over to Shane. – “It was just a joke.” – he told her chuckling. Lori slapped him across the face. – “A damn cruel one!” – she answered angry. You kept running tears running down your cheek. Never did you think Shane was capable of actually holding a gun up to your head.

The seriousness in his voice frightened you. For a moment you really did think he was going to shoot you in front of everyone. – “Y/n!” – Daryl panted out having come after you. He had followed you into the woods. You weren’t listening to him, wondering off too far. – “Y/n!” – Daryl repeated loud quickening up his pace. The tears were running down your face making you sob breathlessly.  You called it out when two arms wrapped around you.

Stopping your mindless running. – “Y/n! Y/n stop.” – Daryl said holding you tight as you tried freeing yourself from him. Sobbing loud you eased down feeling worn out. The energy left your body making you sunk through your knees. Daryl went down with you, keeping you in his arms. Turning your face a bit, you pressed it against his arm, crying your eyes out.

He comforted you, remaining silent as he knew cursing at Shane wouldn’t do you any good now. It took you a lot of effort to get back to camp. You didn’t want to be there knowing Shane was there. Also the fact that everyone had seen it made it even more uncomfortable. You decided to go to the lake sitting by the water.

“Auntie Y/n!” – Carl cried out making you turn your head. He came running over as you got up. His body slammed against yours, arms going round you. He was sobbing loud as you soothed him. – “I’m okay Carl.” – you told him, knowing how frightened he must have been. Carl hugged you tighter, pressing his cheek against your stomach. That night slept Carl in your tent. Partly because you didn’t want to be alone and because he wanted to protect you.

The next morning you all got startled at Glenn honking loud. He had been out for a run, only having returned now. Glenn got out of the car all happy and relieved. Everyone made their way over to him to greet him as it had been a few days since they saw him. You kept your distance a bit, gulping when you noticed Shane coming to stand beside you. – “One day there will be no one around to protect you.” – he said to you. It made you swallow frightened. – “What is your deal against me Shane?” – you asked boldly having enough of his power plays.

He turned his posture more to you taking a deep breath. – “Your attitude!” – he made clear. – “My attitude?” – you repeated confused. You turned more to Shane as well, standing in front of him. You stared at him feeling there was more to it. – “Do… do you feel threatened by me?” – you asked him. Shane laughed mockingly. – “You are NOTHING to me!” – he made clear with a deadly stare. Agitated you wanted to shove him. Shane grabbed a hold of your wrist, twisting it to the side.

“Shane?” – both of you heard clear. It made the two of you look to the side. Your eyes widening. – “Rick?” – you gasped out in shock. Carl was clinging onto him. His other arm around Lori. – “Y/n!” – Rick said relieved as he removed himself from Lori and Carl. Shane let go of your arm aggressively. Rick had seen it making him go up to Shane. – “Why were your hands on my sister?” – he asked calmly but with a soft glare.

Shane puffed loud walking off. Rick stood stunned and baffled at Shane’s behaviour. – “Rick?” – you said again touching his shoulder. Touching him made it all real. Rick turned to you with a relieved smile. The two of you embraced strongly. – “I thought you were dead.” – you told him. – “So did I.” – he answered.

He pulled away touching your face. – “How I am glad to see you alive and well sister.” – he told you making you smile between your tears. A surprise touch made you squeal soft. Carl having wrapped his arms around the both of you. – “Now we are a family again.” – he said happily. – “Yeah we are.” – Rick answered rubbing his hand through his hair. Lori glanced over to Shane seeing how jealous he looked. He brushed it off by walking off the minute he saw the meaning of Lori’s eyes.  

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

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!  

[scoutswritingcorner]

Hello! Thoroughly enjoying your writings!! Deeeelish!! You are fantastically talented and we are so lucky as a fandom to have you!

What if during the battle between Adam and Alastor the reader jumped in front of Alastor and took the hit instead. Up until this point Alastor couldn’t put his finger on his feelings for the reader but seeing them badly hurt, and protecting him clicks it all into place.

Thank you for entertaining the thought!!

Fight For Me

Alastor x GN!Reader

TW: Blood, Alastor being angry.

A/N: YOU ARE SO NICE IMMA CRY- IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO GET OUT!

It wasn’t supposed to end up like this, you were supposed to be fighting the executioners with the others. You weren’t supposed to be up here with him and fighting this no good first man. As he collected you in his arms seeing the gash that ran from your stomach to your chest made his smile falter, he had already lost his microphone and now here he was about to permanently lose you. He couldn’t let that happen. Not yet. 

He ignored Adam as his shadows curled around the both of you and allowed him to quickly travel to his destroyed tower. Why would you protect him? He cursed himself as he ripped your shirt open, he was much more of gentleman than this but your fucking afterlife was on the line. Why did he care?  He snapped his fingers as his shadow slid a medical kit across the room, you were out cold so this could go easier, his shadow danced across the walls as he started to wipe as much blood as he could away. Tears stung at his eyes as his smile became tighter, threatening to pull at the hidden stitching. 

Throwing his jacket off to the side as it felt restricting, He could easily finish you off right now. Why does he care? As he carefully stitched the scar back up, he kept glancing up at your face, your heart beat was slowing down and it scared him. You better not fucking die on him, he couldn’t lose you not right now.  He’d tear Heaven down just to make sure you were safe and next to him, but why was he feeling this way? No one got him feeling..like this. He was scared. You are scaring him, get out of his head. Finishing up the last stitch he carefully draped his jacket over your body as he used his own legs as your pillow, he needed to keep your head propped up just in case.  PLEASE- Get up, you’re scaring him. You need to show him you're okay.

He doesn’t know how long he sat there but as soon as your eyes opened he felt a rush of relief wash over him, you were okay. His clawed hands cradled your face with a softness that was foreign to him as his lips pulled into a sneer, “What in the fuck were you thinking? Protecting me from a powerful blast such as that?!” He snarled, he didn’t mean to be so venomous but being scared was foreign to him. He didn’t like being vulnerable and yet he felt safe around you, he wanted to comfort and cradle you close after every day. You didn’t answer him just staring up into his ruby red eyes, “Answer me, damn it. Why? I could’ve taken the hit.” He continued as tears pricked and stung at his eyes. You were strong, yes, very strong. But he couldn’t lose you, he didn’t want to lose you. He hated this feeling. 

“Because..I’m in love with you, Al..” You whispered out and the truth set upon him like the sun's last ray of light. He was in love with you as well.  His sneer vanished as he leaned down closing his eyes as his forehead touched yours and he sobbed like he was a little boy who scraped his knee and ran home to his Mama. His clawed hands carefully caressing your cheeks trying to burn the feeling into his memory, “I love you..” the words fell out of his mouth as if he was back in the hospital watching his Mama slowly slip away. “I love you.”  He repeated this time with much more confidence but he was still apprehensive. 

“I love you, Alastor.” The words came out easy for you and he envied it but the way your gentle and soft hands cupped his made his undead heart skip a beat. But he didn’t need to be scared anymore, he had you with him. “Don’t pull that silly stunt again.”

A/N: THE AMOUNT OF TIMES I CRIED IS UNBELIEVABLE

[inthelibrarybtw]

back to shore | r.c

RAFE MASTERLIST

pairing: bsfb!rafe x kook!reader

summary: A few hours could define anything and he wasn't going to let go that easily. He couldn't give up that easily, whatever the outcome was going to be, he was going to be there. Maybe the waves were going to be kind this time and allow him to bring you back. To bring his home back. part two of this.

word count: 3.9k

content: cursing, angst, inaccurate weather/ocean talk, Christian faith, prayer mentioned, talks of death, loss of a parent, CPR, medical terms may not be 100% accurate, crying, trauma.

authors note: I teared up again but this time it was for different reasons. I hope it makes sense I'm very tired, so excuse me.

Rafe returned to where the Coast Guard and the police had settled on the beach. It was around 2 AM, and he had decided he would go back home, grab his boat, and then look for you. He didn’t care if he died from exhaustion; he needed to know he at least did everything he could to find you. 

He was acting impulsively, but he also needed to be cautious. What if he found you? You would need medical attention. So, he went to tell Shoupe what he was going to do. Shoupe knew better than to try to reason with Rafe in this situation, so he gave him a radio to communicate with them just in case. 

As he drove back to his house, he felt the need to cry one more time. Your things were in his car just as you had left them, but you weren’t there. He took a deep, shaky breath and left your things right where you left them because you would come back and move them if you wanted. You were coming back. You had to come back. 

He got into his boat, and before he could even get the keys into the ignition, he cried one more time. “Please let her be alive… please.” 

He took another deep breath, wiped his tears, and drove away. He started close to where the police had already checked. But they could’ve missed you, so he checked again. He kept listening to the radio; he didn’t care because none of the words coming out were “we see something” or “we found her.” 

He stopped for a few minutes to gather himself. He was starting to feel desperate. Very desperate. It was supposed to be just a nice day at the beach, but nothing went as planned. It was like the world was playing him a cruel joke, laughing in his face because he took too long to ask you to be his girlfriend. If he had just asked earlier, he would’ve enjoyed more time with you as his girl. And now you were still his girl because you were alive. You had to be alive, or he was going to lose all sense of living. 

He wished he was joking or exaggerating. That statement was loaded, but you were everything he never thought he was missing. You were his reason to smile, to keep going; he would do anything for you. Anything but live without you, because a life without you was nothing. You had always been there; maybe he found you annoying when you were kids, but that was then. He was little; all the girls were annoying to him.

He loved you. He had always loved you; it took him a while to get there, but he eventually did. He didn’t know a life without you. He didn’t remember when you were born, but he knew he was two when you and Sarah were born. Some pictures proved it—pictures in which he was sitting between two baby girls: Sarah and you. Your mom and his mom were best friends, so, of course, having baby girls a month apart was the dream—best friends birthing best friends. At first, it was just a little joke, but it became a reality.

So yes, maybe there had been a time when he didn’t have you, but to be fair, he couldn’t even recall those times. He remembered meeting Sarah, vaguely, but he remembered. He recalled more when he was four and two little girls were babbling and running around, taking his toys. Or when he was eight and two six-year-olds wouldn’t let him be at peace. Or when he was ten, at a birthday party to which you had also been invited. You gave him his gift and a small hug that your mom had made you give him, but it made him blush, so he just left. He also remembered going to at least one homecoming with you in high school. Sarah had begged him to invite you because she was dating Topper, and she wanted to have her best friend close by just in case something happened, so he did. By this point, you two had started talking more, so he didn’t need much convincing. 

Again, Rafe didn’t know a life without you, even if he tried to remember those first two years of his life. You were there as a baby, toddler, kid, pre-teen, teen, and adult. He never wanted to know a life without you, so he prayed again and again, pleading with God to please keep you alive or bring you back to life. He needed to hear you one more time, to see you one more time. He just needed time. He just needed you.

He thought back to his mom. Losing her felt much like what he was feeling right now. He had been 19 when she died in a car crash, a drunk driver. He hated remembering that moment. He couldn’t lose the only person who had stood by him during that time, because now, who would be there for him? He would break. He wouldn’t be the same, and he didn’t think he would survive. Losing his mom had caused enough pain. He didn’t need to lose the love of his life too. That would be too much pain for someone to endure. 

He would love to have his mom at that moment. She would’ve gone with him in that boat. She would be there with him, looking for him. Maybe she was. He always told him that his mom was always looking out for him, keeping an eye on him, and helping from heaven. Because that’s where she had gone—heaven. Where else would his mom go? The best mother in the world, in his world, had to have gone to heaven. He wiped his tears again. Thinking back to his mom was not helping at all. He just wanted to cry more because it hurt. And it scared him to have to deal with another loss.

“Please, Mom, help me out here… She believed you were always with me, so I will believe. Help me, help her.” Lost in all his thoughts and talking to himself, he didn’t notice when he had gotten so far from where he had originally started.

—

You were coming in and out of consciousness. You didn’t know what time it was. Water kept hitting your legs. You were shivering. It was extremely cold. You remembered wanting to move, scream, and pee; maybe you had done it. Or had it been a dream? You didn’t recall. Everything was blurring together. You had dreamed of Rafe, your friends, and your family. That was the only thing you knew for sure. In the dream, it was a warm Christmas. Hot cocoa and cuddling with Rafe. Gifts, parties. New Year's. Fireworks—bright and loud.  

A flash.  

Light.  

Has that happened? Or had that just been your brain playing games with you? Had that flash come from somewhere, or was it part of your memories, and were you hallucinating? You wanted to move to check, but you felt heavy. It hurt to breathe, but you still did it, opening your eyes. Again, just rocks, water, and the sky.  

A light. A flashlight, to be more specific. With whatever energy you had left, you were going to try to scream or make some noise in hopes of being found, even if it meant dying. At least someone would find you.

—

Rafe pulled out his flashlight to illuminate the area further. There were many rocks, and the water was a bit calmer there, but it was still pushing the boat to the right. He kept directing the flashlight at the rocks.  

A splash. Not a water-hitting-the-rocks splash. An intentional one.  

A noise. An animal? It didn’t sound like one; it was a peculiar noise. He tried to see where those sounds were coming from. A small but strong wave hit his boat and pushed him further to the right.  

Another splash. Another noise.  

—

The light on your face. 

You scrunch your face, and you hit the rock where you were sitting once more. 

—

He pointed his flashlight at the source of the noise.  

Another splash.  

Time stood still, yet he reacted and brought his boat as close as he could. He got off the boat. The water was freezing, but he didn’t care. He needed to get to you, to ensure he wasn’t imagining you there, and to help you. God, he needed to make sure you were okay.  

You felt a surge of strength. Adrenaline, maybe. You tried to move, but your body felt numb from the freezing water you had been in for hours. In any other circumstance, you would make a joke about being left to marinate, but right then, you needed to reach for him.  

He got to your side and didn’t speak; he just reached for you, and you could swear your body sensed it before your brain could register that Rafe was there, and it was real. It was real because the pain was there, the numbness was there, and it was too cold for this to be a dream.  

He had no idea how he did it, but he got you to the boat. He felt your cold body against him and your arms wrap around his neck as he lifted you. He didn’t understand why you weren’t shivering anymore; you were freezing. Once in the boat, it was as if your body knew you were safe again, and you collapsed.  

Rafe’s eyes widened, and he grabbed the radio Shoupe had given him.  

“Found her,” he said in a shaky voice, “She—she collapsed, she…”

"Copy, we are sending people to your location."

He didn’t remember ever giving them the location, but at that moment, he didn’t care how they knew. The important thing was that they knew and they were coming. He got close to you again, softly tapping your cheeks. 

“Princess, wake up for me, please. Y/N, come on, baby, wake up.” He checked your pulse; it was weak. “No, no, no, you’re not doing this to me. Come on, pretty girl, wake up.”

You were breathing slowly, and your heartbeat was slow and weak, but it was there. He wrapped a towel he had in the boat around you to try and warm you up. The paramedics arrived quickly, starting to stabilize you and checking for major injuries. They removed the towel to use insulation blankets and placed an ambu bag over your face to help you oxygenate better.

Rafe didn’t hear anything they were saying; he was focused on you. One of the paramedics drove his boat back because he was not leaving your side. He wasn’t even processing what was happening. The only thing he heard was that you were alive, had some degree of hypothermia, and needed urgent medical attention.

He held your hand the entire ride back to the beach, throughout the ambulance ride, and only let go once you reached the hospital. They had also given him an insulation blanket, and one of the nurses brought him scrubs to wear as dry clothes. They were rolling you away on the gurney when your vitals started dropping. Rafe felt as if his heart had dropped to his feet.

After intubation and warm IV fluids, you were stable. You had some internal injuries—a concussion, some bruising, and water in your lungs—but with proper oxygenation and medication, you were going to be okay. The cut on your hand from the rock was cleaned and stitched up. Only two stitches were needed. What was more concerning was your body temperature, so they were working on warming you up so you could regain consciousness. But the most important thing was that you were alive.

After Rafe changed into dry, warm scrubs a nurse took him to your room. Seeing you with all the tubes and connected to different machines broke his heart. You were back, but it still didn’t feel like you were. He knew it was you; he recognized his girl, but this was just half of who you truly were. He was still worried for you because you hadn’t woken up. He needed to hear you, see your eyes again, to be able to breathe in peace once more.

—

Your parents had arrived, and the doctor filled them in on what had happened. Rafe hadn’t been made aware of your parents' arrival. When the doctor called him out, he reluctantly let go of your hand, but he knew your parents needed some time alone with you. When he stepped out of the room, he was met with the embrace of your mother. 

“Thank you for saving my baby girl,” she said, her voice a bit choked. Rafe didn’t feel like he had saved you; he felt like he had failed you by allowing this to happen. “You found her and she’s safe again,” your mother said, holding back her sobs. 

“I…” Rafe trailed off, unsure of what he wanted to share or say to your mom. It had been too much in a very short time. He was tired, both physically and emotionally. He needed to sleep; maybe he wasn’t completely aware of it, but his body was. 

“We can stay with her; go rest. She needs you to be well-rested.” Your mom squeezed his hand, letting him know it was okay. He just nodded before walking back to his car. He hugged your parents goodbye and made his way to his vehicle. 

One more time, he turned to see your things on the passenger seat. You were coming back to pick them up. This time it was certain; he didn’t know how soon, but it was going to be soon. He hoped it would happen soon.

—

Rafe got back home. How? He doesn’t remember, but he returned in one piece. When he entered his room, he saw something he had forgotten was there: a necklace, your necklace. Well… you were yet to know it was yours. After dinner, he planned to take you back to his place and give you that necklace. You had always told everyone that you wanted an initial necklace, but only if it came from the right guy. You had also mentioned that you wanted to receive it the day you got engaged to ensure it was a forever thing. Rafe knew he wasn’t proposing, at least not yet, but the necklace was a promise that he would propose someday.

The necklace was his promise to you: to love you forever, to stand beside you, and to eventually make it a forever thing. It was a promise that he not only wanted you as a girlfriend but also as his wife. He wanted to grow old with you and experience life by your side. There was no other person he wanted or needed. So whenever you decided to wake up, he would be there waiting for you, necklace in hand.

—

Three days. Three long days had gone by, and you were still not waking up. The doctor had said it was normal; your body needed to rest from all it had gone through, so it was just a waiting game now. Rafe was struggling with his lack of patience, while your mother kept reminding him that you were okay and doing better. You no longer had a tube down your throat to help you breathe; you had a cannula to maintain oxygenation, an IV to provide fluids, medication, and anything your body might need.

Rafe had gone back home after spending the morning with you. He kept busy with things when he received a call. Your mom was calling him, he picked up immediately.  

“She’s awake and asking for you.”  

He forgot how to breathe at that moment. You were awake and asking for him. You had finally woken up. You were okay. His vision blurred, and he smiled.  

“I’m going right now,” he said before ending the call. He grabbed everything he needed and ran to his car.

The ride to the hospital was something else. He was probably going to get a few speeding tickets, but he didn’t care; in fact, he was happy to pay the fines. Nothing could ruin this moment for him. You were awake and asking for him, so everything else was not important. Even in all the chaos, he bought you food and flowers. You had to be hungry.

He ran as much as he could, and as much as the nurses let him to get to your room. When he stepped in, it was as if time stood still. Your eyes met his, and you were faced with the very blue eyes you had fallen for; this time, they were as watery as yours. 

You both smiled and cried. Your mom grabbed the things he had brought and placed them on the table next to the hospital bed; afterward, she left the room so you two could have a moment. He didn’t waste time and sat on the edge of the bed to hug you. One hand rested on your back, and the other cradled your head, while your arms rested on his shoulders and were looped around his neck.

“Princess…” he said in a shaky voice. “You gave me the biggest scare of my life.” He pulled back and cupped your face. You held onto his wrists. “You’re here… you’re back.” You just nodded and gave him a sad smile.  

“I thought I was going to…” You couldn’t finish your sentence because you broke down. “I was so scared.” With that, Rafe broke. He held onto you as you both sobbed. He kissed the top of your head over and over again to comfort you.

“You’re safe, baby… I’ve got you; just let it out,” he rubbed your back in circles.  

“I didn’t want to die… I didn’t want to leave everyone. I was scared,” you said between sobs. “I—” he cut you off gently.  

“Baby… breathe with me. Can you do that? I need you to breathe,” he waited for you to mimic him, and when you finally did, he had you do it again and again until you were breathing better. “There you go…” he cupped your face again.  

“Are you okay?”  

“Baby, you are the one in the hospital bed; I should be asking that,” he chuckled softly. “Now that you’re awake, I’m good. How are you feeling?”  

“I’m alive…” you said in disbelief.  

“Yes, you are; thank God you are,” he said with so much emotion, and you nodded.  

“Yeah… He kept me alive, and then you found me…”  

“Yes, He did… He kept you safe just like I prayed for,” he confessed before kissing your forehead. “Fuck… I thought I lost you…” he said, trying not to cry again. “I can breathe again now that you’re back.”

—

That afternoon, he spent it with you, holding your hand, helping you eat, and just keeping you company. You still needed a lot of rest to recover from what had probably been the worst experience of your life. While you were sleeping, he pulled out the little velvet box that contained the necklace. He didn’t want to wait any longer; he had waited enough, but he also knew this wasn’t the best moment.  

“Hope this is not how you’re proposing,” you said as you began to wake up from your nap.  

“Hey there…” he said with a soft smile as he gently brushed away a strand of hair from your forehead. “Not proposing yet, princess, but I do want to give you something…”  

“Yeah?” you asked in a whisper, adjusting the bed to see him more comfortably.  

“Yeah… I can’t wait any longer. You have no idea how much I regret not asking you to be my girlfriend months… hell, years ago. I almost lost you, and we just started this. Y/N… I love you, and I know you know that, but I will keep saying it for the rest of my life. I love you with all I am, and I always will. I have loved you since before I knew what love was, but you are the only person I want to share the good and the bad with. I want us to grow old together, to fight, laugh, cry, and enjoy every little thing life throws at us.” He paused. “I’m not proposing yet, but I will. Eventually, I will, but this…”

He opened the velvet box, revealing the necklace inside. The letter "R" in the center made your heart melt, and you smiled, wanting to cry again but for different reasons. “Rafe, this is…”

“I know you said you wanted this the day of the engagement, but this is my promise to you that I will do it. In the meantime, you will wear this not because I own you, but because I know you and I love you, and I don’t want you to ever forget or doubt it.” You smiled and cried at the same time.

“I love you so much, Rafe,” you paused to take a breath. “I will never stop loving you; you are the best thing that has ever happened.”

With that, he kissed you ever so gently, scared he might break you. When he pulled back, he wiped the tears that had fallen down your cheeks. He smiled at you and helped you put on the necklace.

The journey to that moment had been anything but perfect, but both of you felt at peace again. Maybe the beach would never be your happy place again, maybe you would eventually walk by, but you would never set foot near the water again. Rafe would never let you go somewhere if you didn’t feel like going anymore, and this rule also applied to him.

He couldn’t risk it, not anymore. He needed you to be alive and safe, and he needed to be there for you. He was scared of losing you, but he was equally scared of not being there to protect you if you ever needed him.

 You were back, and he was going to make sure you never went away again. You were his home, and he was yours. He would never leave your side, and you would never leave his. The connection you two had was beyond comprehension. Your parents were shocked at how easy it was for you to do all the physical therapy when Rafe was around, and how easy it was for you to fall asleep when he was there. All the nightmares of that day at the beach were gone every time he slept next to you. He always said you were everything he never knew he needed, but it was the same for you; you never thought you needed someone like him until you couldn’t picture a life without him. 

Life without him was not life for you, and life for him without you was not life. This chance you had gotten to keep on living, you were not going to take it for granted. It was not just about Rafe; it was about the people you loved and about your hopes and dreams. So whatever was in your future, besides a life with Rafe, you were going to enjoy it, good and bad, surrounded by your people.

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[baby-yongbok]

I Promise

Han Jisung x Reader

▹Genre: Angst - the type that makes you shed a tear

▹Summary: Jisung finally realizes what he's been putting you through and he vows to fix it.

▹Word Count: 1.8k

▹Warnings: Description of a panic attack

▹This One shot was Inspired by the song Til u say i go by NIve

✧ Masterlist ✧

“Stop saying that. Stop saying that this isn’t working, why are you giving up so easily?” The vase of wilted roses on the dining table shook as Jisung’s tightly closed fists banged lightly against the mahogany. You feel something like the roses in front of you, what was once a beautiful and vibrant gift from the lover sitting across from you is now a wilted reminder of what once was. You’re tired, burnt-out.

“You think this is easy for me? This is the hardest thing that I’ve ever had to do but I’ve had more than enough time to think about this. I’ve had more than enough lonely nights to know that I am sick and tired of this desolate feeling in my chest.” You rise to your feet quicker than you intended, you turn away from the man in front of you as tears well up at your waterline. 

“I’m doing what I can, you know that I’m doing what I can. You knew how this would go, you knew that I’d be busy, that my schedule would be packed. I promised you that I’d come home when I can and I have kept that promise -”

“ - you’ve been at the dorms more than you’ve been in this kitchen. You’ve slept there more than you have ever slept here, I’m sure that you have more clothes in your closet there than you do here, so are you really keeping your promise?” The exasperated sigh that falls from Jisungs lips as your feet lead you through the threshold leading to the living room is all the answer you need.

“You’re not being very fair. You know how busy it’s been, I only just got back to Seoul today, we’ve been all over the place, I’ve been all over the place.” He stares at you from the same threshold that you crossed moments ago. “I wasn’t aware that you felt so…”

His wide eyes meet your glassy ones as you allow the tears that you’ve been holding back to spill over your puffy lids like a glass filled to the brim. He steps towards you and with each pitter patter of his bare feet against the hardwood you feel that overflowing glass inching closer to the edge of shattering.

“Tell me.” You allow him to cup your cheek, the rough pad of his thumb wipes a stray tear as he continues to whisper. “Tell me everything that you’ve been keeping in there.” 

His other hand rests over your heart for just a second before the palm finds a home against your other cheek. You can feel his faint trembling against you and it’s only now that you notice the erratic pattern of his breathing. 

“Do you know how long the nights feel when I’m in that big bed all by myself?” Your lids flutter shut at the sound of your own whisper and you can feel it all coming up, word vomit with an untitled emotion, it's right at the back of your throat. Too thick to swallow. “I’ve stopped making the bed at this point, I stopped buying groceries to accommodate your presence because you’re never at the dinner table anymore.” 

Your voice starts to settle into a steady yell as you continue but you can’t stop it. Everything's coming up at once. All of the nights sleeping alone, all of the tears you’ve shed, all of the times you’ve needed the support of a partner that is never there, that can rarely ever pick up the phone. It all comes pouring out in shouting syllables that leave Jisung stumbling back with tears of his own trailing down his cheeks. 

“I called you, I called you last week and I needed you, I needed to hear your voice but all I heard was your voicemail. I didn’t even get a text from you that night, I waited hours for you to call me back. I waited and I waited but there was nothing and here we are six days later and you still haven’t asked me why I called.” You choke on your own shout as you take an inhale so sharp that it could’ve cut your larynx. Your throat tightens at the memory of last week. You sat in front of your phone for as long as you could just waiting, just hoping that Jisung would return your call but he never did. You waited and waited until the face that reminds you of him everyday pulled you out of your haze. 

Just as you fall to your knees in a choked sob that very face emerges from the dimly lit threshold, Jisung hears the tiny footsteps and swiftly shields your body from her line of sight.

“Mommy, why you cry again?” You sob harder at the sound of her small curious voice. This is all enough to break Jisung, the anxiety in his chest is quickly boiling over into self hatred. The palpable pain lingering in the air is all the proof that he needed to know that you’re right, he didn’t keep his promise. “Appa, is mommy okay?” 

“Mommy is- mommy is going to be alright. Appa is trying to fix it, okay?” The brown hair girl hugged her stuffed animal closer to her chest as she took a step towards her father. Jisung was fighting for his life as he did his best to hold back the sob that was rattling against his ribs.

“Come on, let's go back to bed so that I can help mommy, okay?” Jisung’s voice is barely above a whisper but it was enough for the little one in front of him to agree as she held her arms out towards him. He scooped his daughter up and held her close as he made his way down the dimly lit hallway, leaving you and your sorrows to seep into the dark wood beneath your knees. He could nearly hear the heavy tears spilling onto the flooring, he’s sure that the residue of your deep despondency will stain the flooring. His heart aches with sadness and regret as it all sinks in and he swears that what ‘s left of his resolve breaks when his daughter grabs him by his face and kisses the tip of his nose. A sweet whisper leaving her lips as her hopeful words loomed over his head. 

“Please fix momma.” That’s when he knew that he would never be able to make things right. Once he heard the latch catch on your daughter's bedroom door the latch holding the emotion trapped in his chest broke open and he sobbed so violently that it made no sound. All that he could hear was panicked ringing as he sunk to the ground and hung his head. His tears soaked into the soft denim of his jeans as all of your words echoed through his head. 

His breath caught in his throat and his hands raked through his hair aggressively until they grabbed at the roots and pulled as hard as they could. Time seemed to slow down as he realized what’s been happening. While he’s out in his own world the one that he built with you is crumbling. He got too comfortable, he allowed a thick frost to cover his lens and when he couldn’t see through them anymore he filled in the blanks with the answers that he wanted. He told himself that you were fine, that you’ll understand and that he was barely even missed. That frost was so thick, so blinding that he fooled himself into hurting you. 

“Han.” Your hoarse panicked tone is what snaps him out of his thoughts. He blinks a couple of times, trying his best to clear his blurred vision and concentrate. “Jisung, breathe, please.”

It’s only then that he notices the burning in his chest, he sucks in a harsh breath but it’s not enough. He coughs before trying again, the feeling of your soft hands rubbing against his clothed thighs grounds him quicker than he could manage to do by himself. Before he can fill his lungs completely his arms are around your waist. He pulls you into him as he rests against the pale painted wall of the hallway, you wrap your arms around his neck, holding him against your chest as he struggles to regulate his breathing.

“I’m so -”

“- I know, Ji.” He takes a deep inhale and your soft scent makes his muscles tense before relaxing a bit too much. He’s missed this, he’s missed you. 

“I- I know that I hurt you. I haven’t been here for either of you but if you please, just please give me a chance to fix this. I’ll take time off, I’ll adjust my schedules and I’ll come home no matter the time. I’m sorry, I’m sorry that I’ve been so absent I didn’t think that-”

“And what happens when you run out of days off? We’ll be a happy family for a month or two and then I'll be sleeping alone again?” He pulls away from you, watery eyes staring into yours with so much sincerity, so much passion. 

“I won’t leave you alone again, I’ll do what I can, I’ll do more than they let me. I’ll find a way, if you just let me stay, if you let me try again I promise that I will make up for this pain for the next million years, Jagi, please.”

“Ji...Jisung if this doesn’t work then -”

“Then I’ll leave, I’ll pack my stuff and I’ll give you anything that you need to live a comfortable life without me but that won’t happen. If you give me this chance I will stay by your side until you tell me to leave. I’ll stand by you every day until you scream and yell and beg me to go but please give me the chance to fix what I’ve done.” 

“You can’t promise me that everything will change.” Your eyes wander down his frame, a forlorn glint in your eyes. Jisung’s hand takes its familiar position on your cheek, pulling your attention back to him as he takes a rigid breath.

“I can and I will.” His eyes search yours as he tries to grasp onto the hope that’s flying away from you. Maybe he’s making a promise that’s bigger than himself, maybe he can’t do it, maybe he can’t fix you and he’ll break his daughter's heart but he has to try. He has to.

He leans into you and you welcome the feeling of his exhale clashing with yours, his blushed lips brush against your soft ones before he presses the softest kiss to them. It’s loving, it’s hopeful, it’s Jisung and you’ve missed it. You’ve missed him. He whispers against your lips between kisses, his words are airy and desperate but he means them and they mean everything to you.

“I promise.”

[pedgito]

MILLER'S GIRL ✎ SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter Two: Delusions of Fantasy

Chapter Summary: Settling into the semester, you find yourself in an unsuspecting position with your professor, meetings that shouldn't feel so secret but do and an assignment that may change the course of things for the better...or much worse. [5k]

[student/teacher relationship, age gap, no outbreak, power dynamic]

Chapter Warnings: 18+, fem!reader, professor!joel miller (his teacher persona is v different from outside of the classroom, so if he seems slightly ooc....close your eyes), dom!joel, sub!reader, reader is a little obsessed with joel (and delusional), mentions of infidelity (not by joel), sarah doesn't exist here, background tess x joel, inappropriate relationships/actions, talks of literature and lots of random writing topics, more dream smut that translates into writing, gratuitous descriptions of mr. miller's body and personality, joel is conspicuously toeing the line of lusting after a student while reader is very obvious, some unspoken sexual tension

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You weren’t sure when days would begin to blur, pulling all-nighters to finish assignments that you kept putting off until the absolute last minute. But, the small coffee shop on the edge of campus has become your pseudo-home, early mornings and occasional nights when you need the extra energy boost or focus. 

There was a perfect little nook in the corner of the coffee shop that was hidden behind a wall. A small alcove that was usually empty—at least, it was when you tried to use it. And you find yourself there on a lonely night, crisp autumn air biting at your skin as you slip into the coffee shop. It’s mostly empty at this hour and you order your usual drink of choice before you’re slipping around the corner with your coffee in hand, startled by the sight before you.

“Oh, shit—Mr. Miller—” You stammer, stepping back awkwardly as you almost run into his arm that is flipping a pen between his fingers, his gaze flicking up to you curiously.

He’s just as surprised to see you here, but ultimately, it makes more sense in retrospect.

He had a house, an office (both here on campus and at home), but he preferred a place like this, surrounded by the smell of coffee and the gentle ambience. He could’ve gone home to Tess and gave up grading and preparing assignments, but that didn’t sound appealing either. He finds the more he’s in Tess’s presence, the worse his thoughts wonder.

That maybe escaping to the coffee shop would push you from his mind, but here you were, in the flesh, and Joel couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

He offers a curt nod, polite. Part of him expects you to just…go away. But, he has the idea that he’s probably taking up your usual study spot. Before he entertains the idea of leaving, you take a seat silently in the chair across from him, holding up your hand.

“No, it’s fine—you don’t have to leave or anything.” You tell him assuredly, opening up your laptop as you settle into your spot, eyes connecting with his over the edges of your screen, his expression looking a little more jaded than your own.

You were exhausted, but he was exhausted and upset. You couldn’t be sure at what, but there was the glaring fact that he was here, nearing midnight, when he could easily be at home. You didn’t question it though, finding that if you wanted to, you could wear him down enough to talk.

“So,” After a long stretch of silence and his silent typing away at his keyboard and you still staring at a mostly blank screen, knowing you wouldn’t be able to get much work done with him around, thoughts and eyes wondering curiously, “I read those books you suggested.”

Ah, right. The email he’d sent on a whim. A lapse of judgment after the fact, seeing how it could be misconstrued, knowing it could be viewed as inappropriate.

The thoughts he was having were inappropriate, but even then, he knew he would never entertain it. And shit, you’re still looking at him, expecting some type of answer.

“Did you enjoy them?” He asks simply, no elaboration or asking for much.

 Just a simple yes or no.

There’s an angst that settles in your gut over his acknowledgment of the email, nodding quietly.

You had, truthfully. It was a few poem books he said were his favorites, and you could see where your interests intertwined, finding that the tone in the poems he enjoys reading is what you also enjoy reading.

Angst, dread, intense feeling that was hard to ignore.

And truthfully, Mr. Miller was impossible to ignore.

“I read them the other night,” You add, pulling up a half-finished assignment from your English course, “you’ve got…good taste.”

Joel chuckles quietly at that, easing slightly in his seat. Part of him was worried, even if his intentions were in the right place, that things may be misconstrued. He breaths out a sigh of relief he didn’t realize he was holding in.

“I figured you’d enjoy them.” He smirks slightly.

You feel your cunt clenching at the subtlety, crossing one leg over the other as you find a hauty comparison to his words, thought flashing through your mind.

You’d gone to bed with the words of the poems on your mind that night, but the voice wasn’t lacking in tone or voiceless—in fact, it was his voice. His words as he pumped one, two, and then three fingers into you over his desk, hands clenched into his shirt as you held onto him like a lifeline, only surfacing back to reality just as you were about to come.

But, he didn’t need to know that.

And you didn’t need to know how desperate he fucked himself into a lonely fist when he was pent up from work (which was more often than not, lately) with the image of you on his mind.

He’s never had thoughts like this and he can’t comprehend why—part of him wants to blame Tess and her choices and the stress it has put on his marriage. But, Joel has been checked out for a while and this, even though only in the confines of his mind, feels like an even worse betrayal.

“You should send me more.” A soft sip on your coffee as you stare flirtatiously over the rim of your cup—cool it, you tell yourself. But, it doesn’t work.

There’s a small twitch in his face, the deepest hint of a smile saying—yeah, I’ll challenge that—but it quickly fades. 

“Just…if you want to,” You add, playing things subtly, carefully, “if that’s okay?”

Joel knows he shouldn’t entertain the idea, but he sees the genuineness in your expression, beyond his attraction toward you. You had a desire to write and share and feel—he could respect that. He nods slightly, pressing his laptop closed and gathering his things slowly.

“Alright—give me a couple days,” Joel bargains, “Anything you prefer?”

You shake your head innocently, wishing he would recommend his own literature. You wanted to see how deep his ego ran, if he had the nerve to be so bold. “Anything you like, I’m sure I’ll enjoy it too.”

It was an understatement.

And the accidental coffee shop mishap doesn’t end there. In fact, it quickly grows out of control, beyond your own intention—this was natural, no coaxing needed.

–

Joel hated how much he craved your presence outside of work, in this stupid fucking coffee shop—but like his dependency to schedule and caffeine, he finds you become a normal occurrence and it throws him out of wack when you’re not around.

Luckily, you never strayed. You were there every night, even early mornings when he had to take a retirement for the night—you didn’t need to pry, you knew. He’d twist a nervous hand around his wrist that slowly trailed to his ring finger, fingers flexing anxiously. He had to be home, he didn’t want more problems. Even if this was somehow helping him work through his inhibitions, he still had a responsibility.

And Joel knows the time he’s spending with you could be misconstrued, but he does it out of a genuineness to further your interest and desire into literature if anything. He’s met with many students after hours—though, not to this extent. And always within the grounds of school, either in the classroom or his assigned office, nothing beyond the border of allowing a personal connection.

He was bending rules for you and he couldn’t help it.

There’s so much you learn in the short month or so that this drags on—Joel likes black coffee, no add-ins or sweet touches. He fidgets a lot, fingers constantly twisting at the watch on his wrist or scratching at his slowly regrowing stubble when he had just shaven a day or two prior—you start to notice the small blank patches in his beard because of it.

He seems so unsuspecting and normal—maybe that was what drew you in. You couldn’t really pinpoint it anymore. There was a point where the secret admiring morphed into open admiration and maybe Joel should’ve stopped it there. But, it made him feel good.

It made him feel wanted. And that was his first real mistake he made with you.

Allowing it.

It never breached anything inappropriate, but he’d notice when you would track the movement of his hands, rubbing over his face or neck in exhaustion, arms stretching over the back of his head after a long period of sitting down, hunched over in the small sanctuary you two had constantly found yourself in.

Mr. Miller was fair in that he never helped you with his assignments. He wasn’t there to give you a leg up or help you out in that regard, he knew you were capable. Competent. But, he fed your desire for him and literature by asking about your own interests and melding them his own, curating your time together in the small cafe with topics you could both find yourself getting lost in.

It was easy to lose track of time with him. And very irresponsible.

Joel does notice your longing glances and subtle twitches in your face when he does certaIn things, moving his body in a way that accentuates his strong form—he wasn’t toned necessarily, but he was broad, large, and he wasn’t amiss to how his own shirt clung to his body or how well-tailored his slacks were. He liked things to fit well. And you appreciated that so much.

But, beyond your own disappointment, things never cross that line.

He never makes a comment or threads the line of touching you, his hands always aware of their placement around you—and maybe he was just being respectful and was terrified to lose his job, but you can see the flex of his fingers when you remove your sweater or lean in to close to him, his eyes dragging along the slope of your neck, nostrils flaring in response at how comfortable enough you feel to just lean in.

He’s foolish to think this wouldn’t mean anything to you, but he allows that thought to stray from his mind and continues, too attached to these meet-ups like they were his own form of free therapy, beyond the dreadful marriage counseling he was going through.

It wasn’t working, but this was.

And he thinks that it is partly because it’s you and not Tess.

In fact, he knows it’s you.

The emails continue for weeks, days upon days of trading back responses and links—and really, everything is telling him to stop. Everything.

The guilt. The fear. The anger.

Yet, he never tries.

-

Joel can feel you breaking out of your shell little by little, more engaged in the group setting of the classroom the more time he’s spent with you one on one. He doesn’t want to initiate a responsibility in it, but he can since the familiarity and comfort when you speak–even if it's mostly directed at him.

Truthfully, you didn’t have a problem speaking in front of the class, but if it filled Mr. Miller with a sort of pride, you weren’t going to deny that.

You try to ignore the way he speaks your name, calls on you and beckons you to speak with a raise of his eyebrows, arms crossed firmly over his chest–and your eyes draw to his stomach, following along the soft slope and over his groin and you see his thighs tense as he crosses his legs too, one gently over the other as he leaned against his desk.

You smirk slightly, feigning a look of innocence as your eyes drag to his face, answering his question mindlessly—something about how to capture dialogue properly and even Joel can see that you’re not fully there, mind elsewhere.

It wasn’t hard to surmise where, but he ignored it. For now.

But, it wasn’t until the day was nearing the end of your class, head buried in your laptop as you copied your handwritten notes down into a document for later, knowing absently that he was perusing around the room but trying to ignore his lingering presence every time he glanced over at you.

His hands surround your chair before he announces himself, flimsy plastic creaking underneath his grip.

“Mr. Miller.” You address pleasantly, typing idly away at your keyboard.

He speaks your name gently, a reverence in his tone that allures fondness, a smile creeping on his lips. 

“Any questions?” He asks curiously, brow furrowing in confusion, “On the assignment—“

He points blindly to the board, eyes still locked on you as your head turns toward the board, down at your notes, then back at him.

“I mean—not really?” You sound unsure, “Write something fantasy, make it interesting—“

He can feel your interest waning, seeming rather nonchalant about the topic, like it would be an absolute breeze and wasn’t worth the wasted energy. But, he’s challenging you.

To what, you weren’t sure.

Joel clears his throat, grip tightening on the back of your chair as he leaned over subtly, chest crowding around the back of your head, examine the notes you did have type out before his eyes dragging back toward you, and you can’t ignore his gaze, chin turning up toward him and your eyes soften as they connect with his.

“But, specifically—dreams.” He clarifies, “Sometimes your best ideas can come to you in a dream—so think of it as journaling them but, expanding…bringing it to life.”

Dreams…

You’ve had enough of them in preceding weeks to last you a lifetime, all including him.

“Bringing it to life…” You echo his words, mincing the words on your tongue as the idea flusters your mind, a small nod from Joel in response.

Of course, he had no idea the extent of how deep your mind wandered, but his words were edging too close for comfort, like he had the faintest idea.

There’s a brief moment of self awareness as his eyes drag to your lips, tongue dampening them as you soothe the chapped skin, nodding absently.

“I think—I think I understand what you’re saying.”

Mr. Miller smiles then, whether fake or not you couldn’t tell, “Good—feel free to, uh—“

Email him.

You see him hesitate to force the words out, chuckle awkwardly as he leans away, breaking the built up tension between you both.

“Yeah, yep.” You laugh softly, infectiously as you turn your attention back toward your laptop, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Thank you, Mr. Miller.”

He pats your shoulder softly and squeezes, the only point of contact he ever allows himself, never letting his touch linger or stray because he knows—if he broke that point of contact and wandered elsewhere, he wasn’t sure he could stop.

-

You tap mindlessly at the edge of your keyboard, laptop resting wobbly in your propped up legs, start to type a word before quick erasing. Mind flicking through baseless and boring ideas, wondering how easily you could muster up a fake dream and amaze Mr. Miller with your lackluster writing skills—just lie, it wasn’t that hard.

You feel your mind wandering then, head hung back against your pillow as you stare at your ceiling, his expression etched into the back of your mind, eyes wandering along the dip in your cupid’s bow and the less than subtle lick of your lips that you offered in return. 

This couldn’t all be in your head.

You sigh, heavy and thick, but the soft ding of a notification on your laptop pulls your attention.

On the other end, Joel sits anxiously at his desk, foot tapping insistently against the hardwood floor, still fully dressed from work sans his tie that laid slack on his desk.

It wasn’t even a fully drafted email, rather a precursor to beginnings of an improper, but casual conversation. He tried to keep an open line of communication with all of his students, but when you don’t show up at the coffee shop that night, too burdened with the idea of just what you were going to write—he worries. 

‘Are things coming along? Didn’t catch you at the cafe tonight.’

You stare blankly, unsure how to respond.

It felt…odd, starting a conversation over email.

Of course, you didn’t have any other means of communication, so this is what Joel was forced to devolve too, tapping nervously as he awaited your response.

‘Having trouble actually—any suggestions?’

Part of you craves to hear his voice—and selfishly, he does too. And Joel knows the moment he offers the information up, he’s going to regret it. But, he does.

The house was empty, thankfully. Tess was working later than usual and Joel couldn’t be bothered with the semantics, finding himself straying further and further from this bed every night. His office was his new sanctuary, bad back be damned—he would choose the couch over a bed with her, knowing she still judged him for the choices she made.

A phone number is attached to the email that follows, ‘I’m free, if you want to talk through it.’

Your heart desynced from its usual rhythm for a brief moment, nearly fleeing your body if you hadn’t felt it so deeply in your chest. You couldn’t—this…it couldn’t be all in your head.

You quickly type the number into your contacts, hovering for far too many minutes over the call button, wondering if it mattered how you looked—if he would judge. You didn’t appear much different, but you were in your own comforts, vulnerable. And as much as he appeared here in your dreams, the reality of him being this close was startling.

You bite thoughtfully at your bottom lip as you prop your phone against the screen of your laptop, a blank document open behind the calling screen as you went through with your hesitation and attempt to connect the call, chin resting against your fist as you waited, eyes wandering aimlessly around the room.

When the familiar tone blares of the call going through and Joel is suddenly appearing on screen, you’re not sure why you followed through with this in the first place—even if he was the one who insisted it by offering up the information.

He looks slightly more disheveled across the screen, still dressed in the outfit you saw him in earlier, his tie gone, a button or two undone, and he’s definitely allowed his fingers to run through his usually quaffed hair, a curl falling freely over his forehead, his phone seemingly propped up in a similar manner as you can see most his upper body that wasn’t hidden by his desk.

“So, what’s the issue?”

He jumps right in, which isn’t surprising.

You feel the sense of familiarity in your usual conversations, like you were almost there in the room with him—you couldn’t imagine how exhausted you looked or seem currently, but you push the thought from your mind and hoped it didn’t cross his, that he wasn’t harping on your similarly disheveled appearance in his mind.

He seemed as if he genuinely wanted to help.

You hated it, wishing he wouldn’t drag things out.

If he wanted you, he could have you.

Instead, it felt like he wanted to—or rather needed to keep you at a distance, just out of reach for his own good rather than yours.

“Just…wondering, I guess.” You look down briefly, feeling his curiosity through the screen as you pick at a frayed thread in your blanket. “How—how detailed are you asking?”

“I mean, it doesn’t have to be so loud that it feels like…too much?” Joel feels like he may not be making complete sense, but he tries. “Do you have a few dreams you remember well that you feel the need to jot down, that you can morph it into something tangible?”

The way he speaks so eloquently, even beyond the guise of his profession, never gets old. Maybe it is a habit he’s formed, speaking and teaching for so many years that he can’t force himself out of that mode—but maybe he was also allowing it to be a barrier, that if he let his guard down too much that you might sneak in and find a way to pick at him and allow yourself to get comfortable.

He couldn’t do…comfortable. But, this—this he could manage. It allowed for a clear divide between student and teacher. Professional and casual, even if he didn’t hand out his phone number to people so willingly. 

“Um…yeah,” You nod slightly, mind filtering through the filthy thoughts of him over you, breathing a deep satiating desire for relief into your body, lips on your body, fingers buried deep inside of you, bringing you right near the precipice before you’re being ripped away from the glorious fantasy, “there’s a few, I guess.”

“Do you wanna share?” His eyebrows raise inquisitively, his hand disappearing off screen to bring a clear glass to his lips, half-filled with a dark brown liquid.

Tequila, maybe? Whiskey? 

His lips curl around the edge of the and he sips, ice clanking inside of the glass as he awaits your response.

You shake your head hesitantly, smiling slightly, “I think the whole point is to surprise you, right?”

He chuckles softly, “I suppose.”

“Maybe…some vague advice, if you have any?”

Joel sets the glass against the desk a few inches off screen, thinking quietly. Eyebrows furrowing deep as he contemplates. Hard.

“Don’t hold back,” He starts, staring mindlessly off into the distance as he speaks, “be—be authentic and try not to limit yourself.”

“So, no sparing any details?” You ask teasingly and he smirks at your playful tone.

“Why would you do that?” He asks unknowingly of the thoughts on your mind, “You’re a beautiful writer, don’t discredit yourself.”

It tugs at something deep inside of you, a subtle frown forming on your face as you nod in response. “Thank you…”

“Hey,” There’s a gentle utterance of your name that has your eyes connecting fiercely across the screen, “I mean that.”

You’re silent, at a loss for words. It wasn’t for lack of knowing what to say, but how to say something—how to extend your appreciation. But, you figure that may translate better through writing, brewing over the idea in your head.

“Mr. Miller—“ Your mind lingers on unspoken words and thoughts, begging to be spoken, but the faint creak of a door in the background on his end has you both shooting to attention, a shared understanding as he scrambles slightly.

“If you run into any road blocks, just send me a message, okay?”

You nod, cut off by his sudden eagerness to end the call—feeling you just got caught doing something horrible, a shunning on the horizon.

You sleep that night with a fresh revelation on your mind, smothered by the feeling of special treatment that Mr. Miller was offering, wholly committed to your own delusion and it fuels and stokes that fire effortlessly. And the vivid scenes of your dream flow onto the page the following morning in perfect detail:

It starts off innocent, a bland tale of forbidden love or…something thereof, playing at the idea that this wasn’t supposed to be. Two parrying forces that yearn for the other but can’t find the courage to jump or take that leap—full of dread and hesitance and intensifying that idea. 

Until, there’s a major implode of tension.

A sudden snap on the male character that resembles Joel so much it is unsettling, down to the subtle mannerisms as he takes in the characters appearance and words throughout, slowly describing yourself in a way that isn’t…obvious. But, it is heavily implied. 

There’s a sudden confession of desire, not love, but a definite yearning that is mostly mutual, leading into a fantasy of filth. Debauchery personified in a way that feels inappropriate to write for a college assignment but is therapeutic for your mind.

His hands wander with a restrain that reads as worried—unsure of what the other character expects, but the moment your lips connect all bets are off, clothes rapidly disappearing amongst the confines of the male’s vaguely described quarters, laid over a flat surface. His bed or his desk, the detail is omitted, but he crowds dream you in and devours, capturing your mouth in another heated kiss, hands wasting no time as they slip over your cunt, beyond the sacred barrier of your underwear and inside of you like he’s done this a million times before.

In your mind, he had. But, that was beyond the point.

His fingers work you over expertly, your own hands wandering over his strong frame, biceps flexing underneath your touch as you describe a distinct feeling of stubble as he decends and you feel the texture against the inside of your thighs, underwear disappearing at some point you can’t remember before his mouth is latching into your cunt without hesitation, feeling the warmth of his mouth so vividly it almost startled you awake at the time, the distinctness of his voice echoing in your mind, biting your lip to stifle your desperate moans.

“Don’t hold back.” He echoes, a distinct line of dialogue that sticks out in your mind as you type it into the document, feeling your inside twist and clench at the fleeting memory of his voice.

You come against his mouth with a shout, fingers twisting into his horrible disheveled hair, just long enough that you can secure a good grip before you’re pulling him upright, tasting the slick of yourself on your tongue as you kiss him.

It’s all a dream, after all. 

You take your own liberties, playing up the descriptions in a way that feels sinful, but you do it anyway. You finished the assignment in a few hours despite the ability to extend it over a few days, not bothering to wait as the idea was still fresh in your mind as you typed it out.

You don’t even hesitate to send the assignment once it is finished, fully confident in your abilities and Joel’s echoing encouragement.

It may have been the best thing you’ve ever written.

-

Joel is blissfully unaware of the debauchery awaiting him in his inbox, busying himself with the endless list of divorce attorneys in the state, wondering if he should really go through with this—ending his marriage, starting anew and cutting ties with Tess. He isn’t sure, really.

He isn’t positive about anything in his life anymore. 

He sips gingerly at the steaming cup of coffee, his second of the night as he switches between his browser and a separate page of assignments he was concocting for the rest of the semester, specifically tailoring some around your own interests. He couldn’t explain why he was putting the effort in, why there was genuine concern—but he wanted you to succeed, if anything.

You don’t see him at first, he wasn’t hidden away in your usual spot, but he’s tucked away in a quiet corner near the back of the cafe, and you almost decide to ignore him and give him the space he seems like he craved, wondering if he had already read through your essay, but he nods at you subtly when he catches your gaze, a quick look up from his computer as you grabbed your coffee order from the barista.

Come here, he beckons silently.

You cross a single arm over your chest and press the lid of the cup to your lips and sip, gentle are careful steps progressing his way as you stop, hip pressing against the edge of the table. He looks at you, friendly and innocent, like he hadn’t offered up his phone number without precautions or asking, handing out the final line of connection that sealed the deal for you. This wasn’t just…help. It had to be more.

“J–Mr. Miller,” You catch yourself, finding his first name almost slipping from your lips, too close for comfort but he doesn’t seem to catch it, “reading through the assignments?”

You’re curious, but silently hoping he hasn’t crossed yours yet. Or, if he had, wondering if he was calling you over for that very reason—he wouldn’t express his thoughts in the coffee shop though, he couldn’t. If he lies, you can’t see through it.

“Uh, not yet, giving that a couple days,” He shakes his head, closing out of the browsers and shutting his laptop, “sit?”

He’s extending the invitation, hand gesturing toward the empty seat.

You bite back the smile that creeps on your face and take a seat, pulling at the sweater that covers your body, the cold chill creeping into the cafe as the bells to the entrance ring.

“Did you ever figure out what you were struggling with?” Joel asks curiously, still painfully in teacher mode, much to your dismay, “I didn’t hear from you, so…”

“Oh, um,” There’s an excited fluttering in your tummy, hesitant to debrief him on the details, but you nod, “yeah—just took a little bit of thought and the words started flowing.”

“Well, that’s good,” He offers politely, “I’m glad I could help—if…if I did.”

“Of course,” You smile more confidently, “You always do.”

If he only knew.

His eyebrows furrowing subconsciously, staring at his watch as the numbers creeped closer to midnight, his mind heavy with thought he wouldn’t speak out loud. So, you ask.

“Are you okay?” You utter softly, knowing it was the instance either of you have ever made the effort to ask—through countless meet-ups and secret conversation, feeling a need to keep it all hushed—it never occurred to you until you’re saying the words out loud. “You seem…irritated.”

Joel laughs bitterly, a soft chuckle that radiates in his chest. “Who isn’t?” He challenges, seeing the familiar look cross your own face, “Sorry—that’s—”

Joel looks away briefly, feeling that confiding you was a line he couldn’t cross, even though he’s blurred just about every other one in existence. 

“I don’t mean to pry,” You shrug, “but I figure—it doesn’t hurt to ask?”

He’s withholding and you can see it, clock it in the way he checks his phone screen—a few missed calls and a text but you can’t read out anything other than the name. Tess.

Tess Miller. Got it.

“Did you get your assignment turned in then?” He asks curiously.

You nod shyly, twirling the cup slowly on the table, eyes drawn away from him despite how starkly he glared at you, hands cupped in his lap underneath the table. If you scooted closer your knees would knock together and you fight the urge to do so.

Joel notices the way you curl inward, a subconscious act that always denotes something simmering beneath the surface with you. He was used to your forwardness, your inability to respect personal space to a degree that…didn’t necessarily bother him in the way that it should. And he hates how his cock twitches at the sight of you glancing away, intimidated by his eye contact for once in the few months he’s gotten to know you.

There’s a creeping thought edging its way into his mind, an urge to force your wandering gaze on him, coax you into trusting him, wondering just how easy it would be for you to comply with his will, if it would take any fight on your part at all.

“Good, I’m excited to read it.” Joel replies honestly, a genuine smile finding its way onto his face, “I’m always lookin’ forward to what your mind thinks up.”

He may be asking for more than he bargains for with that.

“Well, I’ll see you on Monday then?” You confirm, feeling the need for a quick escape, things getting entirely too close for comfort, “Hopefully with a perfect score?”

Joel smirks knowingly, “Don’t get ahead of yourself now.” He teases.

Unfortunately, you were yards if not miles ahead. 

Beyond saving.

And Joel had no idea.